#i know it's been building up a little bit!

[unriding]

PROTECTING YOU FROM A CREEP. ft. endo & togame (separate)

in which a persistent pursuer doesn’t quite get the hint … that is, until they come face to face with your boyfriend. potential warning for implied stalking ( not by the characters ). f!reader.

sfw. similar to headcanons from my previous blog, but is not a repost!

As if any unwarranted looks your direction could ever go unnoticed by Endo.

He’s pegged you as the type of person to be much too trusting of everyone you come across since day one, now even more so from the way you didn’t even bother to question the reason behind why Endo would suddenly want to pick you up from work (though.. had he known that your shifts were adjusted to wrap up at 11 PM, he certainly would have started doing so much, much earlier).

He decides to wait just outside the back entrance of your building, clock on his phone reading 10:58 PM. It doesn’t take him long to note that the street lights in this specific lot are dim, and the area itself is practically empty. Nothing out of the ordinary considering the time, but it’s definitely not the ideal place he would like for you to be walking alone in the middle of the night.

It’s not like Endo himself is immune to your cute face or your endearing personality either, but — everything about this just rubs him the wrong way.

That stranger that only visits your work when he knows you’re working. According to your coworkers, he’s got his hands on your full schedule for the month. How that would even be possible is beyond him, your coworkers, and your own comprehension. Apparently nobody had told him your hours, but in the end, he got the information from somewhere.

He thinks this has been going on for much longer than you’ve let on.

A sudden set of footsteps catches his attention, though they’re not as heavy as he imagined they would be. The new moon tonight makes it difficult for Endo to see clearly, but from what he’s able to make out — he’s smaller than him, at least.

Not that he would have a hard time with someone who happened to outsize him.

He almost says something. He certainly would have, without a doubt, but you’ve always had a thing or two to say about him ‘starting unnecessary fights.’

So he waits. He waits and watches as the man in the hood looks as if he’s about to open his mouth to say something, but changes his mind upon noticing Endo beside the door.

Specifically, the infamous infinity on his neck. The tattoo that anyone in Makochi could recognize in a single glance — one that spells death for whoever is foolish enough to bother him, let alone his girl.

The man freezes in place. The new boyfriend you’ve been talking about was him?

Perhaps Endo’s reputation as one of the strongest still stands even years after high school has passed — especially now, with the way the stranger stares at him, completely dumbstruck.

Something bordering sadistic in Endo bubbles inside his chest. He can’t help it — not when he knows that had he not decided to come to pick you up, you would have been alone with him by now.

And now that he’s seen him up close, he doesn’t like him one bit.

“Ah, here to pick her up?” Endo cocks his head to the side. “That’d be my job, don’t you think?”

“W-Who?” He stammers, eyes narrowing into his best attempt at a glare despite the tremble of his lip. “I don’t know anyone here, man.”

He almost laughs. “Well, don’t leave so soon,” he makes his way towards him, circles him like a wolf stalks his next prey.

“What’re you doing lurking at her work place like this?” Endo stops when he’s just beside him, ‘Frank’ only a couple inches from him now, “ya little punk?”

“I’m here for the trash. I can come back tomorrow—”

“Really now..” Endo leans in, almost laughing when he retreats backwards. “Because I thought you looked awfully familiar. You’re not that guy who got a hold of my girl’s work schedule, did ya?”

His eyes go wide. “N..n—”

“Cuz a nice girl like that’s already got a boyfriend,” he checks his watch, bored. 11:01. You’d probably be double checking your things by now. “Ah.”

“Unless you’d like for her to see you passed out on the floor, of course. We could arrange that.”

“Wouldn’t you like that, you mutt?”

You really, really should have taken up Togame’s offer to pick you up.

He’s always laughed at your glare, much to your annoyance. Presses a fingertip to the skin between your brows with an amused grin, reminding that you that “such a harsh look only looks cute when it’s you, y’know.”

Only, he’s nowhere in sight and this time, you truly hope your glare doesn’t come across as cute. Your back roughly bumps into the wall with your last step away from your pursuer, hand flying up to flash your phone’s messages his way — “my favorite turtle” clear across the top of the screen.

“My boyfriend’s really big and scary, just so you know,” your voice falters, panic flashing across your eyes for a moment. “And he’s on his way. I told him all about you.”

He smiles, and a chill runs down your spine.

“Did you now? Well, he doesn’t know you like I do,” he sneers, slowly moving to close the distance between the two of you. “I could treat you better. You know I could. Just give me another chance, and I’ll prove it.”

You shake your head as hard as you can. “I said you aren’t my type,” your voice comes out quieter this time, hoping the volume masks at least some of the fear, “a lot of times. And I have a boyfriend.”

It doesn’t faze him. If anything, you think he looks amused by your efforts to turn him down.

“Did you think I didn’t know that, silly girl?” He’s closer now, enough to stretch his hand out and nearly reach you, “I really, really like girls like you. I don’t care… about your little boyfriend….”

Your eyes slam shut, back pressed against the wall and your hands hugging your purse to your chest — tightly, as if something so small could still potentially shield you from him. “Well he’s gonna b-be here, so—”

Togame. Where is Togame? Your heart pounds a thousand beats a second, eyes clenched shut harder than ever before, and you wait—

But his hand never reaches you.

There’s only a brief noise of surprise from your pursuer before it turns into something resembling pain, and your eyes flutter open.

“Jo..!”

You quickly note the faint trace of sweat along his temples, as if he had frantically searched every corner of the town before finding you. It doesn’t take you much longer to note the furrow of his brows next — the way he always does when he’s angry.

“Got yourself in a real interesting situation while I was on my way, did you now?” Togame’s grip tightens on his wrist, and he winces. His eyes flicker towards you, taking a second to make sure you’re not hurt.

He sighs in relief when you appear unharmed — aside from the slight tremble of your hands, of course, but no visible injuries. Lucky for him, he thinks, or he would have had to ask you to leave the scene.

Which leaves one thing.

“Hey… you,” the look in his eyes darkens, “what do you think you’re doing bothering her like that?”

“Cornering her against the wall …. and what was that? Tell me….” Togame lets go of his wrist, only to grab a fistful of his shirt. “Exactly what you were planning to do while I was away.”

[omgiamwish]

Snowmen and Such

@mp100secretspirit Here is my present for @smoarchok! I hope you enjoy it <3

About 1800 words of pure fluff. Read below, or on Ao3

Shigeo rests his arms on the wooden railing, leaning his weight against it and letting it hold him. Snowflakes fall in big clumps to join the expanse of white already carpeting the landscape. The sky is a soft gray, as far as he can see, and the light is dim despite only being late morning. Except for the soft static of snowflakes landing, the whole world is quiet.

“Hey!” Tome-san’s voice pierces the silence, but it’s not at all unwelcome. He turns to her as she joins him. “You forgot your earmuffs in the room.”

“Oh.” He takes them from her with a smile and puts them on. He hadn’t noticed how cold his ears had gotten. “Thank you, Tome-san.”

“What’re you doing out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to… to watch the snow, I guess.” He looks back to it, eyes catching on individual flakes in their descent. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much at once. It’s really pretty.”

“Reigen-san said it snowed on the company trip you all went on last year…”

“Not this much. I’m glad I decided to come after all.”

Tome-san leans on the railing next to him. “Even though they didn’t even need you?”

Shigeo considers that. “Maybe even more because of that. And it was nice that Shishou asked if I wanted to come this time, instead of just… expecting I would.”

They watch the snow in silence for a long moment. Shigeo imagines laying down in it and letting the falling snow cover him. How long would it take? Until he was just another lump or indent in the frozen landscape? Although, as peaceful as it sounds, he probably wouldn’t like having that much snow on his face.

Tome-san thumps him on his back, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I feel like building a snowman. Wanna help?”

“Oh. Yeah!”

They leave the sanctuary of the porch and wade out into the snow. It’s only a few seconds before Tome-san gives up making her own path and walks in Shigeo’s footsteps. He doesn’t blame her; the snow is knee deep, making every step effortful. By the time they get to the flat area of what might be a lawn in warmer weather, Shigeo is breathing heavily and verging on lightheadedness. He flops onto his back like he’d imagined doing only minutes earlier.

“Hey.” Tome-san kicks his shoe. “You’re not giving up already, are you?”

“No,” Shigeo wheezes, staring at the sky and blinking hard when a snowflake lands in his eye. “I’m just… resting.”

“You’re not slacking off in your club, are you?” She kicks his shoe a few more times. He moves to kick back and she steps out of range. “Letting Sagawa do all the work?”

“I placed twelfth in this year’s marathon, you know.”

“And then you slacked off so hard, you lost a year’s progress in like. Two months. I see, I see.”

“No,” Shigeo protests, laughing. He sits up and brushes snow off his face.

Tome kneels down and starts packing together a snowball. It takes her a few tries before it stops falling apart when she tries to roll it and she laughs in triumph when she finally gets something bigger than a baseball.

Shigeo watches her push the ball around, packing snow onto the sides to keep it a little more even. He picks up some snow and tries to pack a ball of his own. It takes him a lot longer to get it rolling than it took Tome-san, and by the time he has a ball as big as his head, she’s already got a second ball of about the same size.

“Hey Mob-kun!” she calls a bit later. “Come stack these for me! Oh, and bring that over, too. That can be the head!”

Shigeo picks up the ball he’d been working on and walks over to Tome-san, taking the path she’d made with her work.

The first ball she’d made comes all the way up their hips, and the second is maybe about half that size. Shigeo puts down his own comparatively meager sized snowball and tries to lift the smaller of Tome-san’s. It takes him a few tries to get a good grip and then for the next few moments, his entire focus is on Not Dropping It. He clutches it to his chest. Leans back to distribute the weight. Staggers the few steps to his goal. Heaves it into place and holds onto the whole thing for a few seconds to make sure it won’t fall as soon as he lets go.

Then he collapses back into the snow.

Tome-san kicks his shoe.

“That was kind of impressive actually. I thought for sure you were going to use your powers. You should definitely use them for the next one, though.”

“Next… one?” Shigeo pants. Snowflakes tickle his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I want to see how big of a snowman we can make.” He hears Tome-san move around and the crunch of snow. “This one isn’t even as tall as me.”

Shigeo huffs a laugh. For awhile, he just listens to her pushing snow around. Then he sits up and looks at the snowman they’ve already made. Tome-san put the head on and packed snow into the places where the snowballs meet. It looks kind of lopsided and lumpy, stained with dirt and grass, not at all like the perfect white spheres you see in cartoons.

He kind of likes it.

Tome-san is making some weird noises, though, so he stands up and walks over to where she’s pushing ineffectually at a… very large snowball.

“Do you need help?”

“Come over and help me push!”

“With my powers?” Shigeo rests a hand on the ball. It’s about the same size as the bottom one of the complete snowman.

“No, that’s cheating.” She shifts around, digging her shoulder into it, shoes slipping on uncovered grass. “You have to- have to roll them naturally, or it doesn’t count.”

“But it’s okay to use psychic powers to stack them?”

Tome-san glares at him. “Are you going to help or not?”

He kneels beside her and braces himself against the packed snow. On three, they push together. It rolls over easily. The next few rolls are progressively less easy. They keep at it until, even with their combined efforts, they can’t get it to move.

Panting for air, they lean against the snowball, legs sprawled out before them. Shigeo is half sweaty, half freezing. Tome-san opens the top of her coat, so he expects she feels about the same.

“Do you… do you think… we can make the next one… just as big?”

Shigeo laughs, a stuttering, breathy thing.

They cannot, in fact, get the next one as big.

They get close, though, and Tome-san directs Shigeo to stack the two extremely large snowballs next to the first snowman. She rolls a third snowball for the head, no bigger than the head of the other. It sets Shigeo off to giggling.

“Wait, hold on. Look, look.” Tome-san pulls off a glove and digs her thumb into packed snow, drawing the shape of a tie on each snowman torso. “It’s-” She wheezes through laughter. “It’s Reigen-san and Serizawa-san.”

Shigeo makes an embarrassingly high-pitched noise. Shaking with renewed laughter, he packs together a snowball and places it at the feet of the snowmen. “D- Dimple,” he explains.

They both collapse into laughter, Tome-san howling with it.

“What’re you kids laughing at?”

Shishou approaches, walking in the trench of their foot prints that the still-falling snow had been working to cover and thus far only softened the edges of. Ritsu trails a few meters behind.

“Well, I guess those are some funny looking snowmen. Why is that one so much more shitty than the other though?”

“That one’s you, Shishou.”

Tome-san, who had almost regained composure, bursts into laughing again. Dimple pops into visibility to join her, and even Ritsu barks a laugh. Reigen-shishou gapes at him, baffled, or maybe betrayed, but Shigeo just grins, unrepentant.

“What the hell. Who’s the other one, then?”

“Serizawa-san, of course,” Tome-san answers, fighting giggles.

“And Dimple,” Shigeo adds, nudging said snowball with his foot.

“Hey,” Dimple complains, without heat.

“That’s kind of cute, actually,” Reigen-shishou decides.

“Nobody asked you,” Dimple mutters.

“But if you kids are getting up to this kind of stuff, you’re definitely in the mood for a snowball fight, yeah?”

Tome-san raises her eyebrows, then looks to Shigeo. He tilts his head, considering. “I don’t know Shishou, Tome-san and I are kind of tired.”

“Nonsense.” Reigen-shishou scoops some snow from the ground and starts packing it. “You kids need to lighten up. How often have you seen such great snowball weather?” He pulls back his arm, clearly aiming at Shigeo. “It’d be a shame to waste-”

A snowball hits Reigen-shishou in the head, disintegrating into a white halo. He stumbles forward with a shriek, almost face-planting in as-of-yet untouched snow.

“What’s wrong, Reigen-san,” Ritsu calls, gathering another handful of snow. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Reigen-shishou whips around and throws the snowball he’d intended for Shigeo at Ritsu. Ritsu doesn’t need to dodge the poorly aimed throw and doesn’t bother to. The next two snowballs hit Reigen-shishou in the chest, despite his attempts to dodge.

“Mob, Tome-chan, help me out here.”

Three snowballs hit Reigen-shishou at once.

Tome-san laughs. Her laugh cuts off into a shriek when a snowball hits her chest, right where her coat is still open.

“Mob, what the hell!”

She lunges toward him, scooping up snow to let loose over his head. He scrambles away, flinging loose snow behind him. He'd opened his own coat a bit, in the last efforts of making the snowmen, and she wastes no time in tackling him and shoving snow down his shirt.

They keep that up for awhile, shoving snow into each others faces and hair and clothes. Making to get up and run away, only to slip on the snowy ground or be tugged back down with the lightest pull. It’s Tome-san who finally calls a halt, breathing too heavily to laugh, but still smiling.

“That- that’s enough. It’s way too cold to keep doing this. Let’s go in.”

Despite her words, she doesn’t make any move to get up from where she’s sprawled in the snow. Shigeo doesn’t either, only rolling a bit to the side to get out of her personal space.

“Are you alright, Nii-san?” Ritsu calls.

“Mm.” Shigeo looks around. “Did Shishou go inside already?”

“Yeah.” Ritsu smirks. Then he steps closer holding out his hand. “We should, too. Your clothes are wet, and you’ll get sick if you stay in them too long.”

Shigeo takes Ritsu’s hand, accepting his help up. Tome-san stands by herself, brushing snow off her clothes. Dimple hovers around their heads, commenting on the fight. Together, they head inside to the warmth of the building, Serizawa-san’s questions, and Reigen-shishou’s complaining. Shigeo can’t stop smiling.

[wszczebrzyszynie]

can i hear more about the story & world building of your space mining characters it intrigues me so dearly

thats so sweet. im very happy to hear that! well its a bit hard to explain as it has started as an au for hermitcraft s8 + the life series but me and @makowcy (who co-created this au with me) liked it so much we wanted to make it its own thing? so that it wouldnt be tied to the source material, as we both drifted away from the original series a bit in the past year. So story wise i cannot say anything in much detail as were still unsure about what stays and what gets changed (we havent even thought out all the name changes and design changes yet). if you are really curious there is a year old now au explanation post with the plot timeline and other things that is our baseline, though it might get confusing without knowing the characters? it also might not because space mining always was heavily oc-fied. well any way the general timeline is pretty accurate to what we still have in mind, other things not so much. Well Either Way i did went a bit more in depth into the worldbuilding under the read more! hope its readable

First things first i need to say that its space fantasy, not really a sci fi, because there is very little logical science in it? its not meant to be scientifically accurate in any way; while it started as alternative history, we decided it woudlve been better if it were a differently working world entirely - its similar enough to think its alternative history at first, but the more you know the more you realize its something else! familiar and based on our reality but giving me more freedom and room to be vague

In short: people were able to colonize space in 60s or 70s, taking the cold war-like era divide of the world to the outerspace. the entire story is set about 120+ years after that, in a far away galaxy, in the former eastern colonies, about 20 years or so after the fall of the empire, and the setting is generally based on pre- and early post-1989 Poland (the fall of polish peoples republic and the transformation era); its a poor, heavily corrupted part of the galaxy. Its not really lawless, but it could as well be. but its also very cowboy bebop-y, with more fun retrofuturistic elements and the general bounty hunting aspect of it. bounty hunting itself can be "centralized" (done by the police force) or done by individual, unaffiliated bounty hunters and bounty hunting groups; though everything is in a very grey area. The only other life in the universe has been discovered fairly recently; an unassuming rock-like structure, long dead in its most commonly found form, and more fungi alike when alive. Its hidden deep under different planets surface, and is considered to be the most important discovery of recent era, becoming the most sought-after item in the galaxy, despite how little is still known about it and its potential uses

In more... long; because of the crushing debt towards what can be called "the west" (in a political sense; its space, and even though people have left earth behind, that terminology is still in use) and, hm, interesting politics (introduction of capitalism in a socialist state), the poverty was the highest its been since the post-war, which, mixed with poor politics on many sectors and the terror, ultimately causes the fall of what has been up to that point considered simply "eastern colonies" (i imagine the name to be simple; Srebro or Srebro-Kolonia (Silver/Silver-Colony), as mining is an important aspect of space colonization), creating a new space-state (now called -Kraj (country), not colony, though its unofficial names are many); generally considered "lawless" (though it isnt) and corrupted, whose society was left feeling mostly disillusioned, and who has given up. While the circumstances are very much based on real polish history, in the world space mining there was no real... fanfare, no feeling of winning, because i imagine that worlds space to be... generally "slow and cold" - changes happen slowly, and everything is so vast and big, it takes so much time to organise and even send information, that everything is just kind of... made to be slighly disfunctional all the time. Well either way it all paints a picture of the general society both holding a grudge towards and being wary of the govnerment (past and current), and the west, and everyone else; the feeling of being cheated is everpresent, but life goes on, even if it isnt great, and everyone has to adapt to it.

Its no coincidence that mining is even in the name; it became something culturally important, a meaningful pillar not only of the space-world as a whole, but of this silver state especially. Its kind of bound to happen when its such a big and important sector. Thats also why a lot of the characters, both minor and major, were or are miners, or worked in the industry (the main character is, after all, a mining engineer by education). Its a dangerous job, but also something people take natural pride in.

there are different "levels" to space mining - not all mining colonies and stations are equal (in difficulty, in gear needed, in safety - both because of the planets, but due to inside factors as well; the rise of workplace injury, money cuts, loopholes and pay inequality all predate the fall of the old colony. the politics really were poor), so not all miners experiences are the same, especially since the discovery of whats commonly called in the story a "gwiazdnica" (its normal name being Staryt or more english suited Starite); a rock-like structure in its dead form (and a more plant, maybe fungi-like when alive, though thats a bit of a secret). its very... well hidden, deep inside planets and moons, and very hard to extract, requiring special gear (small mining mechs! the only usage of mechs in the world is for mining). it has been the only living organism found in space. Its... usefulness is still unclear - the giant interest in it lies mostly in its sheer uniqueness as well another living organism, but also in its beautiful appearnance. It looks like the starry sky itself, hence the name.

Since there is no real plant life in space (its either ice, sand, or rock when it comes to "livable" ones) and no natural source of oxygen, people live under domes - some small, more "temporary", usually tied to mining or research work, some giant, almost self sustainable, interconnected on the planets surface. They all can look very different depending on the planet, reason for its construction, age, and all the other factors; some more fleshed-out ones are what me and Aku simply call "sad" ("the orchard"; home planet to some of the characters, known for its giant orchard domes, and therefore the fruits. quite a beautiful place! though that is definitely not its actual name), the "old rosa", (known mostly for its size and its many domes; lots of people live there, and its filled with communal housing - the panelaks, blocks, plattenbau, whatever to call it. Few characters live there! right side of the picture below), the living planet (left side of the picture below; a very important setting in the story. Its an unspecified desert planet, with its only notable construction being an old, long abandoned and very small mining station with a broken dome. It would make it generally unlivable without many costly repairs, if it wasnt for the fact that it naturally has thin but breathable air due to it actually being a starite planet), and, obviously, the earth - similar to ours, but different, the origin of human race, and the planet left behind. Its often talked by spacians in past forms, even though its still alive and there are still people on it (many of them in the character cast as well!); earthians generally tend to recognize each other because of the accent, as space colonies have generally standardized language (think esperanto, or interslavic; a constructed, invented language, typical to the eastern colonies, with little deviations in phonetics; mostly in vocabulary), as well as through one another, as earthians are generally very community-oriented.

Due to the lack of natural plant life, and as a "cultural leftover" from the early days of space colonization, when space travel was still new, scary and extremely hard, people living in space have a different diet from those raised on earth; it mostly consists of various (and i do mean various) pickled foods and dishes made from them, sweet sour and spicy, mushrooms, vegetables like potatoes and beets, and as for meat - mostly pork and poultry.

Some people live on spaceships and space stations instead - either beause of work, lifestyle, or circumstance. Living like this can be a lifelong choice or something temporary, though it is something that requires a lot of work and maintance - i mentioned before that space is "slow and cold", and that coldness factor is an especially dangerous one. Its different from coldness as just a temperature feeling or a state - in the world of space mining, "coldness" is more like an energy, a mass, something more tangible and everpersent, that slowly breaks everything down, including the ships and stations. It feels like it "sinks" into the objects and people, and that coldness takes some getting used to. These space stations are usually pretty well maintained and pretty self sufficient, often being tied to mining industry again, as some on-planet stations arent suitable for living and proper colony creation. Id say the most important characters to the story live on the space ships? Including the main character (space ship below). though that thing is more like... living in the car kind of thing.

Another big and important part of the general culture and life is the "bounty hunting" - as before it predates the fall of the colonies, and exists in two forms, the "centralized" (done by police force) and the independent, individual (done by, well, individuals, and independent bounty hunting groups). Its obviously a political tool, especially with the corruption, though it really can pay well sometimes, and some people do make it their main job. That bounty hunting is an all-universe thing, very much not specific to former eastern colonies. Its generally hard to become a bounty hunter, as it requires a lot of knowledge and work and gear maintance, so the centralized form is much more common. On a similar note - a lot of criminal characters are called "terrorists", even though not all of them have commited actual acts of terrorism. its a political tool again

Well thats a bit long. almost 2k words! hope its all understandable. I tried to keep it to the most interesting/important parts, so there are few things i havent mentioned, especially ones that are less important to the world and more to the story itself. Well either way. peace and love

[tealvenetianmask]

What does Stolas think about Blitz stealing things?

He knows at very least that Blitz stole the grimoire from him when they met as adults. Jury's still out on the childhood interaction, but I think Stolas is smart enough that he must know-- at least somewhere in the back of his mind.

But one thing about utterly romanticizing someone, and having lots of time to build up a fantasy version of them without interacting much, is that you can ignore the things you'd rather not think about and pay attention to what makes your imagination soar. Stolas can think about the way Blitz touches him, about laughing together and how Blitz brought joy and hope into his life at times when he needed it the most. And if the circumstances were less than ideal? Well, he'd rather not think too hard about that- the other bits are what matter.

When Stolas first pitches the full moon deal to Blitz, he says he's been "allowing" Blitz to use the grimoire. It's a power play (you can only use it until I decide to take it back), but it's also a way to rewrite what happened between them.

In Sinsmas, living day to day with Blitz, experiencing his routine and habits and problems, Stolas can't as easily pretend that the . . . less shiny . . . aspects of who Blitz is don't exist.

So . . . I know this is played as a cute joke. And it totally is. But it's also a situation where Stolas has to knowingly be complicit in stealing something with Blitz. Something that he used to be able to ignore that Blitz did.

Stolas tries to play it off as "oh, people do this when they don't have money, right?"

And Blitz corrects him- Nope! This isn't a poor people thing. This is a Blitz thing. Your mischievous, scrappy, fantasy boyfriend does in fact steal things when it's convenient, and he enjoys it too.

It makes this moment at the end hit a bit differently, doesn't it?

Stolas doesn't say it warmly or with a smile. He comes off as a little judgmental in this moment actually.

Now there's obviously plenty else on Stolas's mind at this point, but I think that at least symbolically, this tells us that Stolas is starting to acknowledge and accept that life with Blitz is not a fantasy. That yes, Blitz steals things. And yes, Stolas knows under everything that Blitz came into his life by stealing from him.

And... well? He goes on to vent to Blitz about the all consuming worry that Via is gone from his life. He dances with Blitz after this, and Blitz is still able to make him laugh. There's plenty of hope for them, stealing and all. (They should probably talk about it at some point though.)

Anyway, it's an interesting bit of character development that wasn't front and center in the episode, but it's worth noticing.

[uconnwbbcrashout]

last winter break

chapter ii: “haven’t seen you since last winter break”

paige x azzi

word count: 3.1k

content: underage drinking (again, i do not condone), swearing, angst, and perhaps a bit of fluff (?)

chapter list: here

author’s notes: i heard there were a few requests for a second chapter...here you go! also shoutout to the anon who gave me an idea for this chapter. you’ll know who you are when you get to that part. :) enjoy!

Winter 2021-2022

Moving across the country for the first time—alone—is absolutely terrifying.

Basketball has taken Azzi to faraway places—from East to West coast with her AAU team, to different countries for FIBA tournaments. Hell, she’s even been to Maryland more times than she can count, having visited there as soon as they offered her a scholarship in the sixth grade.

Even so, she wasn’t prepared for how isolating it would feel when she first got there. How much she’d miss her family even though they came out to help her move. How lonely it would feel in the dorms when she opted to move in a few weeks ahead of most of her teammates. How she’d wish she hadn’t taken all the little things about her home for granted.

For a while there, it was just her, a stack of books, an empty apartment, and her endless thoughts.

Then—finally—things had started to fall into place. Roommates moving in. Practices starting up. Early morning lifts in the weight room. Team bonding activities in the summer. Back-to-school parties. New friendships filling up her time.

All of it, culminating into something she hadn’t felt so deeply in a very long time—genuine happiness.

She was finding herself again. Finding her place on the team, in the world. Sure, it took her a little while to get her shot back, to build up that chemistry with a new team. But things were finally starting to look up.

And even though she was sidelined for the moment—her recurring foot injury deciding to become a problem again—she was still happy, still grateful that it wasn’t something worse. That it wasn’t anything like what she experienced two years ago.

After all of the chaos and turmoil and just overall mess from the past few years, she felt like she could finally breathe.

There was, of course, just one little spot in heart that she couldn’t quite fill.

But she didn't expect that to ever fully go away.

*****

She’s clearing out her locker, grabbing the last of her things after the team’s dominant win over Coppin State, when she sees a pair of sneakers fly into the locker next to her.

“Thank God for this break,” she hears Diamond mutter before flopping down into the chair in front of her locker. “I need to catch up on at least three months’ worth of sleep.”

Azzi chuckles at that, shoving a pair of her own sneakers into her bag. “I hear you.”

“You guys all goin’ home for Christmas?” Diamond asks the few players still lingering in the locker room. There are a few nods and murmurs of affirmation around the room. Diamond turns to Azzi, poking at her arm. “And back to Minnesota for you?”

Azzi bobs her head. “Yeah, I’m flying out tomorrow. Gonna see my family and stuff. Should be a good time.” She thinks for a second, folding a warmup shirt. “Some guy from high school is having a house party, I think. Might stop there if my old teammates are going.”

Diamond taps her chin, seeming to think her answer over. Then she’s smirking, pushing at Azzi’s arm again. “Your girl gonna be there?” she teases.

Azzi’s face flushes. She hears Angel snicker from the other side of the room and hurls a pair of socks at her. “Not my girl,” Azzi mumbles, ducking her head into her locker.

“Huh?” Diamond says, the smirk not leaving her face. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said she’s not my girl. Exes, remember?” Azzi sighs, not ready to have this conversation with her roommate again.

Especially not in front of the rest of the team.

“Mhm,” Diamond hums, disbelief in her voice. “She gonna be there?”

Azzi drags a hand down her face. “Oh my God, I don’t know. He said anyone in the neighborhood could go. How would I know if she’s going?”

Diamond puts her hands up in surrender. “Hey, I was just asking. I mean clearly you still care about her,” she adds, nodding her chin behind where Azzi is standing. Azzi follows her movements, her eyes settling on the lanyard hanging from a hook in her locker. The well-worn keychain there, "PAIGE+AZZI" spelled out in pink and purple bracelet beads. A gift Paige had given her some five years ago, back before either of them understood that their love for the other went far beyond just friendship.

She wants to deny it. She’s done so much to get over her. Went on an entire journey of rediscovering herself this past year.

She’s moved on, she thinks. As much as she feels like she possibly can.

Paige was more than just a girlfriend, though, and more than just a best friend. She was her person. For so much of her life. There’s no point in denying that.

There’ll always be a little corner of her soul, a little box reserved for all the memories of Paige that she can’t quite let go of.

And maybe that’s okay.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Azzi brushes her off, and Diamond, thankfully, leaves it at that.

*****

Azzi regrets going to this party before she even walks through the front door. For one, the thought of willingly spending time with people she went to high school with sounds absolutely awful. Yeah, it’ll be good to see her old teammates, but she can live happily without seeing most of the other people here again. It’s also fucking freezing, as per usual for Minnesota in late December.

And then, when she finally gets there, she nearly gets tackled by some Hopkins jock running with a football across the front lawn. She rolls her eyes as she weaves her way past three people in varying states of drunkenness laying across the front porch.

When she pushes through the front door, a few of her teammates are upon her almost immediately, pulling her into side hugs and patting her on the back. One of them pushes a drink into her hand and takes her hand, leading her to where the rest of the team is standing in the living room. And then there’s even more hugs, even more smiles, even more catching up to do and, okay, maybe this isn’t all so bad.

She’s so caught up in talking and sharing stories that she hardly has a chance to survey her surroundings, to really take in the scene around her. Her eyes roam around the room, from the mass of bodies moving with the music to the ornate chandelier hanging above them all.

Then she’s searching harder, her eyes scanning for a familiar form.

She spots her almost immediately. It’s hard not to, actually, with the mob of people surrounding her. People begging for autographs, asking for pictures, talking her ear off. People she’s sure that Paige barely recognizes, suddenly trying to attach themselves at the hip.

Sometimes Azzi forgets that her ex is bigger than just a local celebrity now.

Those piercing eyes, always so perceptive to Azzi’s movements, flit about the room, before finally landing on her.

Azzi turns away, downs the rest of her drink, and tries desperately to lose herself in the story her teammate is telling the group.

When she looks up again, Paige’s burning stare is still locked onto her.

This is going to be a long night.

*****

It’s some hours and many drinks later when she feels Taylor jab an elbow into her side, and she moves her hand to swat it away. “Ow, what the hell was that for?”

Taylor winces and moves her arm back quickly. “Sorry, I just…” she trails off, exhaling heavily. She cocks her head toward the far side of the room. “How long are you gonna pretend like you don’t see her staring at you?”

Azzi glances up at the corner of the room that her eyes have been drifting to all night, her brown eyes locking with blue ones. She swirls the ice around in the cup in her hands and takes a long drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Azzi, come on. You’re so obvious with it.”

“Am not.”

Taylor’s shaking her shoulder then. “Yes, you are. Why don’t you just go talk to her or something?”

Azzi laughs incredulously. “You want me to go talk to her. My ex. The one who broke up with me.”

“Oh my god, I’m not saying you have to go kiss her or something,” Taylor sighs. Azzi feels her face get hot. “Look, it’s been a year since the last time you saw her, right? I dunno, maybe things will be chill now. Just go say ‘hi’ or something. You obviously want to.”

“I second that,” Kelis pipes up from beside her, and Azzi glares daggers in her direction.

“Me too, actually,” someone else adds.

“Yeah, why not?”

“I think it’s a great idea.”

“I think she wants to talk to you, too, Azzi.”

“Just go do it, come on!”

What is it with my teammates and not understanding that striking up a conversation with my ex is an absolutely terrible idea?

Azzi opens her mouth to protest, ready to defend herself, but she catches sight of Paige in her periphery again and the words die on her tongue.

This is insane, she thinks. This is an insane thing to do.

“You guys are actually the worst,” she mutters, but even still, she finds herself slipping out of the circle, striding across the room toward the far corner. She rolls her eyes at the sounds of laughter and clapping coming from her old teammates behind her.

Azzi’s palms start to feel sweaty as she steps closer, and she tries to wipe them off on her jeans. She walks past a set of speakers, the thumping bass rattling her brain around inside her skull. She squeezes past the throngs of bodies mingling about the room, tries not to trip over her own feet anytime she catches a glimpse of familiar baby blue eyes.

She finally pushes past the edge of the crowd, where there’s nothing separating the two of them besides a few feet of empty space.

Paige is leaning against the wall, crutches propped up under her arms, a plastic cup in one hand and her phone open in the other. She’s alone, Azzi realizes, the group around her having dissipated at some point in the night.

She has a UConn bomber jacket and sweats on, her usual air of coolness about her. Azzi watches her click her phone off and slide it into her pocket. She slowly, agonizingly drags her eyes up over Azzi’s figure, her eyes lingering on the sliver of skin showing above her waist. Spends a moment spent too long on her belly button piercing, before finally locking her eyes onto Azzi’s own.

Fires ignite across Azzi’s skin, scorching her. It’s mystifying how Paige can get her feeling this hot just by looking at her.

Paige is silent, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth, clearly waiting for Azzi to do something.

Azzi takes in a shaky breath.

“Hi, Paige.”

“Hey, Azzi,” Paige replies, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. She feels Paige’s gaze on her again, moving lazily downward before stopping at the floor.

There’s a light tap on the front of her boot, Paige’s foot pushing gently against her own. “How’s the foot?”

“Not so fucking great,” she admits, lifting some of her weight off the injured foot in question. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, her hand is reaching out and tapping softly against the brace on Paige’s leg, her knuckles brushing against the cotton of her sweatpants. “How’s the knee?”

“Not so fuckin’ great,” Paige repeats back, a small smirk on her face. “Bein' injured sucks, man.”

Azzi chuckles at that. “Tell me about it, P.” Paige’s smile only grows wider, and Azzi has to look away for a second before her heart actually beats out of her chest.

Paige coughs and Azzi watches intently as she pulls at her earlobe.

“So...how’s that Maryland life been treatin’ you so far?”

Azzi rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t really know—I’ve only played four games.”

Paige clicks her tongue. “Fair point. Still, you gotta have somethin’ you can tell me.”

“It’s…intense,” she pauses, reflecting on the past few months. “It’s tough, but it’s really rewarding, you know? Diamond’s one of my roommates and she’s been helping me memorize all the plays. And Shyanne’s been pretty fun to hang out with, too.”

“I’m happy for you, Az,” Paige replies, her focus drifting to the ground.

“Thanks. It’s always nice to make new friends, right? The whole team is pretty tight-knit.”

It takes Paige a beat too long to respond.

“Noticed you and Angel been gettin’ pretty close,” Paige mutters, so quietly that Azzi isn’t quite sure she’s hearing things correctly.

Azzi raises an eyebrow at that. “Reese? What do you mean?”

Paige shrugs, the skin around her thumbnail suddenly requiring the utmost attention. “I’on know. You guys just seem close is all.”

'Close'? What the hell is she talking about?

“I don’t understand.”

Azzi cannot for the life of her figure out what Paige is getting at. Sure, Angel is her friend. She more or less took Azzi under her wing, was one of the first people at Maryland who helped her figure out her place on the team. They hung out sometimes, recorded a couple TikToks, posted some pictures together, whatever.

What was the problem with that?

Azzi looks at Paige again, really looks at her this time, scanning her face for anything that can give away what she’s thinking.

She finds it—in the unhinging of her jaw, the narrowing of her eyes, the creasing of her brow, the refusal to make eye contact.

Oh.

Paige is jealous.

Azzi has no idea what to do with this information. Has no clue whether she should be infuriated or amused by this whole situation. Has to remind herself for what feels like the hundredth time that Paige was the one who broke up with her.

What the hell does Paige have to be jealous about?

An uncomfortable silence stretches between them then, just the reverberating bass and the rumbling crowd behind them filling the air.

Paige shrugs again. “She’s pretty,” Paige mumbles.

“What are you saying?” Azzi asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not saying anything. I just—,” she runs a hand through her hair, tipping her head back against the wall. Azzi trails her eyes over the muscles in her neck, wishing—not for the first time—that Paige wasn’t so effortlessly, undeniably attractive.

Focus, Azzi.

Paige rolls her neck around and drops her gaze back to Azzi. She shakes her head. “It’s, like, chill if there’s somethin’ there or whatever.”

There's no way this is happening right now.

Azzi wants to laugh. Instead, she brings a hand up to rub at her temples. “I—You know she doesn’t swing that way, P. What’s the point of even bringing this up?”

Paige shrugs for a third time, and Azzi is actually going to lose it if she does it one more time. “Just, like, if there is someone, it’s fine, you know?”

“I don’t need your permission to date other people, Paige.”

“Who said that you did?”

“You, apparently.”

“Not at all what I said, but 'kay.”

“It was implied.”

“Literally wasn’t.”

“Whatever. I just—I don’t need your input, P.”

“I know.”

“Then why does it seem to matter to you?”

“Fuck, Azzi.” Paige pinches at the bridge of her nose, her eyes screwed shut. “I’on wanna fight every time we see each other. Look, I’m sorry. I really am. Can we just drop it?”

Azzi hates how fast she caves at the pained look on Paige’s face. “Fine,” she relents, uncrossing her arms.

“Thank you.”

But Azzi isn’t quite finished, her tongue feeling loose and her lips moving freely. “You’re actually so confusing. It’s infuriating. You know that, right?”

Paige’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Huh?”

Azzi finds herself taking a step closer into Paige’s space, the scent of her cologne filling up her lungs, threatening to suffocate her. “You’re confusing. First, you breakup with me,” Azzi sticks out a finger to start counting on her hands. “You tell me, ‘Azzi, things just aren’t gonna work out.’ Then you text me, nonstop, for months—‘Azzi, I fucked up. Azzi, I’m sorry. Azzi, I miss you.’ Then you tell my mom that you wanna see me again over break. Then you try to tell me I’m making a mistake by not going to UConn.” Paige opens her mouth like she’s going to protest, but Azzi continues on, “No, lemme finish this. You try to get me to go to UConn. Then you try to act like you know what’s good for me. And now you’re jealous that I’m making friends who aren’t you, jealous at the possibility of someone having me the way you did? And all the while I just know that you’ve been seeing other people. Does that make any fucking sense to you?”

Paige releases the inside of her cheek from between her teeth, exhales upwards, fluttering the few loose strands of her hair that have fallen around her face. “No, Azzi. It doesn’t,” she admits.

Azzi’s eyes feel a little wet, but she wills herself to make it through what she wants to say.

Against her better judgment, she steps forward again, reaches down, gently holds Paige’s hand in her own. She’s close enough to hear Paige’s breath hitch when she links their fingers together. “I miss you, too, sometimes,” she confesses, tracing her eyes over their hands, intertwined between them. “Even though you drive me a little insane some days, I miss you.” She smiles wistfully. “But I’m just, fuck, I’m not there yet, alright? I’m not ready to try to be friends—or whatever—again.” She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth before releasing it. “Do you understand that?”

She feels Paige squeeze her hand. “I gotcha, Azzi. I hear you.”

“I’m not saying ‘never,’” she clarifies. “I've got things to work out, feelings to sort through, people to meet, new things to see. I just need a little more time.”

“Hey, it’s alright. Do whatever you need to do, ‘kay?” Paige reassures, flashing her a tentative smile. Azzi notices a glossiness in her eyes, too.

“Thank you, P.”

“’Course. Imma be there, whatever you decide you want,” Paige adds.

Azzi breathes out, a pressure lifting from her shoulders, one that was more overbearing than she realized.

Paige squeezes her hand again, willing Azzi to look back up at her. Azzi almost gasps at the sincerity she finds etched across her face.

“I’d wait as long as you asked me to, Az.”

[icallhimjoey]

eddie?! 👀 did you say EDDIE?!?! 👀👀👀👀

i DID say eddie! i had a tiny idea that fit the version of eddie ive written before (and the only version of eddie ive written before) and so... here we are. i am: so sorry. Wordcount: 6.6K

---

Let’s Go Home

(find all other parts of this story here)

“Let’s go get him.”

You sound very determined for someone completely unsure of how to handle the situation. It’s difficult to watch someone so deeply unhappy struggle with parts of their past they can’t seem to get a grip on.

“I… what?” two wet, red-rimmed eyes stare back at you. Confused. A little annoyed.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie doesn’t get it. Frowns, entirely unsure of who you’re talking about.

“Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…” he looks so tired.

“I know we don’t need to.”

It always happened when the days got a little shorter. When the nights got colder and Christmas loomed. When happy, wholesome family moments would be advertised all over the world, and it all became glaringly obvious – once again – how that was something Eddie never got to be a part of when he was little. Not until Wayne took him in and tried his best to make the holidays special in his own way.

No matter how hard Wayne tried, though, the bitter aftertaste of abandonment and loneliness was impossible to get rid of.

Eddie would never admit this to Wayne, but celebrating Christmas just the two of them felt just as pathetic and lonely as it had done when he lived with his parents still.

Different.

Definitely not as traumatizing, which was good.

But still dreary, and sad, with a lot of playing pretend that he was okay and happy and fine.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

That’s not Wayne’s fault, Eddie knows, and he feels like a shitty person because Wayne always tried his best. Did what he could. It just never quite worked.

Christmas would roll around, and Eddie would get depressed.

That’s just what happened.

Eddie would slip into sadness, scary thoughts intruding happy places they weren’t allowed to settle into, but he’d not yet learnt how to tell them to fuck off. To leave him alone. Didn’t know how to get the uninvited guests out of his house, and felt powerless as he watched them settle into his living room. Nothing he could do about it.

Somber, pensive moments would slowly stretch until they covered most of the day. Mornings were the happiest, still. He’d wake up after falling asleep eventually, never managing to slip into dreams before 3 AM, and for a moment, he’d forget. The short amount of sleep would have him tired enough to not remember the reality of his life for a second, and in those moments, it would just be you in bed with him and that would be the only thing in existence.

It’s awful to feel reality set into someone’s body mid-hug.

You wish you knew how to keep it out.

Over the years Eddie had learnt he had to vocalize his feelings. His thoughts. Knew that a burden shared was a burden halved, but knowing things in theory didn’t make them easier in practice.

“What can I do? Let me help.” You’d whisper, and Eddie was lucky you’d known each other for so long. There were no worried questions of are you okay, or a concerned soft hey what’s wrong.

You know he’s not okay, and you know what’s wrong.

“You, here. That’s all you need to do.” Eddie would murmur and he’d pull you in to hold you for a short while. And sometimes, that would temporarily fix him.

There is part of Eddie that honestly thinks if he doesn’t think about it, that it’ll be okay.

If he ignores it for long enough, it might go away by itself.

He’s lucky that sometimes, it does.

He pretends that the foundation of shit that he’d been given for his life hasn’t got all the cracks in. The house he has tried to build on top might shake a bit in the wind, but he can convince himself that the strong support beams that have been put in place will make sure the whole thing doesn’t collapse.

But it’s getting closer and closer to Christmas, and he’s sinking deeper and deeper into everything that’s dark, and cold, and uncomfortable, and painful, and scary.

Everything is designed to make people feel happy around this time of year, and he’s in LA where the sun shines all year long and it doesn’t even really get cold at all. Not like it gets cold in Hawkins. The days don’t really get that much shorter, and he can go outside in a T-shirt and be fine. But maybe that’s precisely the problem right now; there’s no quick get inside the house, and no let me warm your hands up for you.

The comfort of a frozen nose that get nuzzled back to life is unattainable in LA.

“Can you go to another meeting? Would that help, do you think?” you silently ask him one evening, hidden under the covers and too tired to stay awake for much longer, even though you know Eddie’s wide awake next to you. He’ll toss and turn for a couple more hours after you’ve drifted off.

“Yea, of course. I should.” Eddie is quick to reply, but you know he doesn’t want to.

Talking about his addiction with strangers when he’s trying his best to pretend it’s not there will just make things worse, he thinks. Logically, he knows it probably won’t, but there’s always that fear.

“Can I join you?”

You feel how Eddie shifts in bed, probably to take a look at you, but your eyes are closed and you’re about to fall asleep. This isn’t the time to fall into a conversation in which he asks you why on earth you would want to hear a lot of people you don’t know talk about a lot of drastic measures you don’t need to know people let themselves be pushed to sometimes.

So instead, you feel a kiss press to your temple, and he whispers, “Sure you can.”

At first, Eddie doesn’t say much in the meeting you join him for. You mostly listen to issues other people bring forward, and try to think of things you’d do if Eddie was the person speaking. If he was the one with all of those problems. How would you help?

How would you fix it?

When a kind, soft-spoken voice asks if there’s anyone new who wants to share, a lot of eyes fall on you, and you shift in your seat. Sit up a little. Feel Eddie squeeze your hand in his which could have meant, it’s okay, you can tell people why you’re here, but instead it means, I got this.

Eddie talks.

Tells everyone about how he feels like he’s deep in a depression and that he doesn’t really know how to get out of the dark pit he’s fallen into.

How it feels like he’s five years old and stuck in a small dark room, and he’s feeling all over the walls but can’t locate the light switch, and the longer he’s looking, the more he starts feeling claustrophobic in there.

You make the mistake of asking him if he can call out for help.

“Have you tried asking? Maybe someone else can turn the light on for you…”

Eddie breaks down, elbows on his knees, face hidden from the group as he looks at the wooden floor boards through his tears.

It’s not your fault.

Eddie doesn’t expect you to understand the feeling of being so utterly helpless and alone that he knows there’s no use in even trying to call for help.

No one would’ve answered.

You scoot your seat closer to his, and lean into his side as you wrap an arm around his back, fingers curling around his shoulder. It’s nice. He needs it. He also knows there’s thirteen pairs of eyes on him and he doesn’t know how to tell you that no matter how hard you’ll try, you won’t be able to actually fix anything.

“Let me turn the light on. Let Steve, or let Wayne– Robin… we can all help turn the light on. We’ll fly Wayne out, Robin too, and anyone else that you want. They can all move in, we have the space for it. Just… please, let us turn the light on, Eddie…”

It’s the fucking sweetest thing he’s ever heard, but he can reach for the light himself now. He can find it in the dark, and he can turn it on. The problem is that it doesn’t make a fucking difference.

Turning a light on now doesn’t change anything about his past.

Eddie gets asked if he has anything more to share. He sniffs and wipes his face with both his hands before he sits up and leans back and says, “Thank you, but um, no. I don’t. It’s this time of year, I guess. I know it’ll pass.”

You hold hands, fingers intertwined, as you listen to everyone else share more of their own personal issues, and when you leave Eddie puts his arm around you and pulls you close to kiss the side of your face. He tells you that he loves you, that he’s glad that he came, and he thanks you for coming with him.

You can see in his eyes that none of it helped.

Eddie lets himself sink deeper and all you can really do is be there for him. Be there when he wakes up and be there when he goes to sleep. You give him the gift of routine. Of healthy meals. Of pleasant walks outside. Long showers after.

It helps.

But it doesn’t fix anything.

You try your best at damage control. Talk to Steve. Call Wayne a lot.

And it helps.

But about two weeks later, Eddie starts isolating.

He had never isolated before.

Not like this.

He’s in his home studio, hyperfocussing on four seconds of a song he’s working on, and when you interrupt to tell him you’re going to go to bed, he says he’ll come up in a minute. He just needs to figure this bit out. “I’m so close, I can taste it.” Eddie smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and for a moment you think Eddie’s going to let you listen to his work in progress. He always asks for your opinion, but this time he doesn’t. He just looks at you with a smile that’s just there for reassurance until you leave him alone.

At 5 AM you get woken up by Steve, who softly says, “You need to come downstairs…” and leads the way for you.

“I got up to pee, and the bathroom is right above the studio…”

You find Eddie in the exact same spot, going over the exact same four seconds of music.

He looks like he’s being tortured, barely able to keep his eyes open. When you gently pry the guitar from his hands, his breathing changes, and you think if he would have had the energy to sob, he would have cried like a child.

“Let’s go to bed, Eddie.”

Eddie lets you take him upstairs, but then locks himself in the bathroom and when you ask if he can let you in, all you can hear are soft sniffles whilst the shower runs.

It’s then that you decide.

Something is different this time around.

Something deeper has bubbled up, and you know whatever you are doing here, in LA, to help him simply will not be enough.

You establish a plan and pull out two suitcases that you place onto your bed. You’re going to pack your bags and you’re going to go get him.

It’s clearly necessary.

Eddie is no longer letting you comfort him and you’re scared that the next step is going to be a relapse.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go get him.”

“I–… what?”

Eddie hasn’t slept, and his unwashed hair is wet from the shower he’s sat in for a while, and you’re very calmly and methodically folding clothes into a suitcase. You might as well be speaking in a different language right now.

“Yea. Come on. Let’s go. We’re packing our bags and we’re going to go pick him up and bring him back here.”

Eddie slowly moves to sit down on the bed, and he looks at what you’re doing for a moment before he sighs and softly says, “Steve’s already here… and Wayne is coming here for Christmas, we don’t need to–…”

He stops speaking when he sees your slight smile.

“I know we don’t need to.” You say and Eddie doesn’t like how you look at him with so much care in your eyes. He doesn’t think he deserves it.

Doesn’t deserve you.

“Do you want to bring both of your black hoodies?” you then ask, not giving him a chance to question what’s happening, and so he just goes, “Yea… yea, sure.” before he lets himself fall backwards onto the mattress where he shuts his eyes.

You let Eddie sleep for as long as sleep will hold him. Pack up both suitcases and let Steve help you book travel back home.

“Do you want to come?” you ask when Steve is on the phone to a travel agent. He is listening to the woman who’s reading him back information he’s just given her, so he can’t answer you, but he reaches out and holds your hand whilst you listen to him book two tickets to Indiana.

When he gets off the phone he reaches for your other hand as well and says, “I’ll watch the house.”

You give him a slight frown. “You know he’d love you to come with us… Wayne says Hawkins is covered in snow. We could watch Christmas films in the trailer… get Robin and run across Lover’s Lake again… or, call Dustin and, I don’t know, Eddie could challenge him to a snow ball fight and they could play–”

“Dustin’s 26 years old.”

“Yea...” you frown at Steve. “So?” you sound desperate.

Steve huffs a laugh as he rubs his thumbs over your hands. He grimaces a little before he says, “No offense, but… he doesn’t need us out there. Of course you’ve got to go with him, but every other person is going to be one too many.”

And Steve’s right.

The next day, Steve joins you outside as you’re about to leave. He hugs Eddie for a long time by the trunk of the car, and you know they’re softly talking to each other. You can only see Eddie’s back, and Steve’s face is hidden by all of Eddie’s curls, but suddenly you can hear Eddie laugh before he pokes Steve in the side.

You get hugged next.

Eddie doesn’t sleep on the flight. Just stares out the window and gets lost in thought. You know he’s not entirely sure of why you’re taking him back to Hawkins, but he’s also not asked about it again.

When your rental car stops in front of Wayne’s trailer, you turn the engine off and sit in silence for a moment as you both just… look at it. It’s four in the afternoon, but it’s getting dark outside already.

Forest Hills.

A surprisingly large lot of land that holds about twenty-four sporadically placed trailers; some of them neatly lined up, others facing whichever way. Wayne’s trailer was one of those ones, placed diagonally to the road, surrounded by dry grass for most of the year which was now hidden by a thick layer of snow.

Momentarily, everything about the image that you’re looking at looks like it’s 1987. Maybe 1988. You can easily envision a younger version of yourself running up to that same front door, it swinging open before you could even get up the steps, Eddie bursting through just to throw you over his shoulder and haul you inside.

“We’re here...” you break the silence, stating the obvious, and find Eddie’s hand to squeeze.

It’s a little silly, but it looks like he’s scared.

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“Wayne?”

Eddie turns to look at you, slightly confused because, yea who the fuck else?

“Yea. I called Wayne.”

You watch how Eddie takes a breath. Watch that information settle within him.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

And Eddie does. Doesn’t want to do anything without you, ever.

But he takes a shaky breath and says, “I’ll come get you in a second.” before he opens the door and gets out of the car.

Footsteps crunch in the snow, and you watch Eddie, hands in pockets, rush up the steps to what used to be the trailer that he lived in with his uncle. The trailer that he found home in when he was about seven years old and Wayne had decided that his bedroom could actually be Eddie’s bedroom instead for a while.

A while turned into fifteen years in the blink of an eye.

You watch Eddie hug Wayne through the window. It’s another long embrace, but this one doesn’t part with boyish grins and jabbing fingers. Instead, you can see how Eddie goes limp in Wayne’s arms a little, and when he goes to pull back, Wayne just… holds on.

Just a little longer.

It feels a little wrong to be watching them like this, chin perched on the steering wheel, fingers hidden in your sleeves. It feels especially invasive when you see how when they eventually part, the first thing both men do is bring their sleeves to their faces to dry what has become wet.

Then, Eddie steps away. Slowly walks towards the room that used to be his bedroom, and he goes alone.

Good, you think.

That’s good.

Wayne didn’t understand at first, when you told him over the phone. That you were coming over for a strange, but important visit. But this was good.

It takes a while.

Your fingers start to lose their feeling a little as you wait in the car, but it’s fine. You are not the priority right now.

When Eddie eventually emerges from the trailer, you get out of the car, and wait for him to call for you. A, come on. Come inside. It’s fucking freezing out here.

Instead, you get silence. Eddie doesn’t stop walking to wave you over.

He makes his way all the way over to where you’re stood next to the car, and then, he hesitates for a moment.

Eddie can’t look you in the eye.

“Everything okay?”

You know it’s not.

“He um…” Eddie starts, voice trembling. “He’s not here.”

“What?”

Eddie moves closer to place a kiss to your temple, eyes looking away, over the top of the car, across the trailer park. “He’s not here. I didn’t find him.”

Eddie steps around you and gets into the passenger seat, and for a moment, you stand with both shoes in slush whilst you try to think of what to do next. When you look back at the trailer, you catch Wayne through he window. Gives you a smile and a wave.

For a moment you contemplate running over, up those same steps, to ask what happened inside. Maybe Wayne has answers to questions you keep asking yourself.

Before you can, Eddie roars the engine back to life.

You give Wayne a wave back from where you’re stood and round the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You can talk to Wayne later.

Back inside the car, you put your seatbelt on and look at Eddie for a moment. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift, and he’s biting his lip as he stares into space.

“If he’s not here…” you start pensively.

“It’s quite the drive.” Eddie answers, unmoving.

“We have the time.”

“I don’t think we’d make it back here before midnight.”

“Hey,”

Eddie turns his head to look at you.

“We have time.” You repeat yourself and place your hand on the back of his head where you softly scratch your fingers into his hair. “You good to drive?”

You don’t get an answer. Instead, Eddie puts the car in reverse and starts backing out. Just before he’s about to fully leave Forest Hills Trailer Park, he stops the car, even though there’s no traffic to wait for.

“I can drive if you want me to–”

“N-no, that’s not it. I can drive, but I…”

Eddie stares. Looks at his hands and just sits in silence, going through it. Then suddenly, he takes his seatbelt off, opens his door and quickly says, “I’ll be right back.” and he runs.

Left in a car with a running engine and a wide open door, you turn in your seat to watch Eddie’s breath leave him in white clouds as he runs back to the trailer, back up the steps, back inside. You’re too far away to see in the windows now.

It only takes a minute.

When he comes back, jogs down those steps in the snow, he looks a little lighter somehow. Like running back towards the car is a little easier.

Eddie gets back in the car, and he’s all loud inhales and rough exhales, hands rubbing together because it’s cold and he just ran through the snow, but then he looks at you as he puts on his seatbelt and he smiles.

There’s tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Had to tell him it’s okay. That I’m okay.”

Somehow, Eddie is beaming and solemn at the same time, but you’re happy that something has changed a little. That he seems to get it. You sink into your seat a bit more when Eddie pulls onto the road and starts heading south.

Eddie told you once, years ago, that he used to live in a motel before he came to Hawkins. How that’s all his parents could afford, and even then, they were always fighting with the front desk about money. Always late on payments.

It was just one big room, and even though it was just him, his mother and sometimes his dad, there were always people in their room. Strangers. Friends, his mother would tell him. Sometimes she’d even tell him, this is your Uncle Frank, and Eddie would be forced to shake the hand of a man he had never seen before and would never see again.

Eddie spent a lot of his early childhood confused.

He spent a lot of his childhood hiding.

Afraid.

Alone.

He wouldn’t ever trust anyone. People told him one thing and then they would laugh together and they would do something else.

Adults were evil, and yet the world was made so that adults were the ones that had to look after him. That made the decisions. That told him, go play outside, even if rain was coming down hard, and Eddie would have no other choice but to listen. To do as he was told.

He was only a little kid.

When Eddie was seven years old, he got kicked out of the room at eight in the morning and got told to not come back until they were ‘ready for him’.

Like he knew what that meant.

No one had told him how to tell time.

Eddie didn’t go to school.

But he knew that being sent outside meant that he had to go find his own entertainment for a while, and so he did.

Eddie was seven years old when he came back around lunch time with skinned knees and grass stains in his shorts, and there was commotion.

Lots of people.

People in uniforms.

A cop car.

A kind woman who asked him if he had lost his way. If she could help him get home. Eddie had just smiled and said, no thanks, and had tried to hide in the spot where he always hid. Adults were not to be trusted, Eddie knew. No matter how kind they looked.

Eddie was seven years old when he got pulled from his safe space, his little hiding spot, kicking and screaming, and got brought over to Wayne’s trailer. He’d never been back to that motel room again. Had never even gotten close.

The sun has fully set by the time you pull up outside of an old, run down motel that looks like it should’ve been torn down ages ago. Most windows are boarded up, paint on the walls is chipping and what used to be a light-up sign has been torn down.

It’s a dump.

Just trying to imagine someone growing up here has you choking up.

Little four-year-old Eddie running around these grounds? In dirty clothes too big for his body because nobody was feeding him right? Being exposed to things no child should ever be exposed to, simply because his bedroom was also the only room they had?

Before you can let it make you cry, you hear a faint chuckle beside you.

It’s small and weak, but it’s a chuckle none the less.

“I remember this place much bigger,” he says, like it’s funny. “There’s only like… seven rooms.” Eddie counts.

You’re momentarily unsure if coming here was a good idea. If facing this reality of his past is going to be doing him any good. If it won’t just break him down even more. But then Eddie turns to look at you and says, “Come, let me show you.”

Eddie visiting the place where he spent the first few years of his life turns into him giving you a surprisingly pleasant tour of the grounds. He recounts the other people that lived there, the rooms he wasn’t allowed into. How there used to be a soda machine here, and how sometimes the older kids would ask him to get them some cans for free, because his arms were small and skinny enough to just sneak them out the bottom.

It’s easy to skim the surface of this place like this.

To make it about showing you around instead of sinking down past the layers of self-protection that would have him walking around here with wobbly legs.

Yea.

This is easier. Better.

All of the doors are locked, but it doesn’t take much more than a good shove of a shoulder for the locks to give way. For the wood of the doorframes to splinter.

“Entering the Forest Hills way.” Eddie grins, and you suppress a smile. It’s a lie. Forest Hills is full of all honest, all hard-working people. But, it’s still a trailer park, and thus, the joke is funny.

Without much care, Eddie easily manages to open every door he comes across. It’s dark everywhere you go, none of the lights work, but the streetlights out front provide you with plenty of it, and your eyes quickly adjust.

Eddie shows you the laundry. Breaks into a little back office. A supply closet. Some other motel rooms - some that had semi-permanent guests staying there too, just like he used to be one. And some that would have overnight guests that didn’t know about the draft that would make the door slam so hard, you’d lose your fingers if they got caught in between.

It’s almost joyful, how Eddie talks about his memories. He hasn’t got many, he was so young, but every time he comes across something he remembers, he seems pleasantly surprised at his brain’s ability to bring it all back to him.

But then, when you eventually stop outside room number five, he pauses.

Stops.

Stares at the doorknob.

You can feel how his entire demeanor changes, and even though it’s painful to witness, you know that this is why you came here. This is the whole reason you drove all the way out here.

Eddie takes a good, deep breath but doesn’t move otherwise. Just keeps his eyes locked on a rusty old doorknob to a locked door of a room that probably looks exactly like all the other ones Eddie had already shown you.

“Is this where you lived?” you ask, doing your best to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. You don’t want to scare him off. Don’t want to trigger something.

Eddie nods, a barely-there up and down movement of his head, and then he goes for the doorhandle, rattles it weakly.

Keeps staring at it.

“Door’s locked.” He croaks, like that had been a problem for any of the other doors.

But it does make sense.

You understand that the person who opened up all those other doors was Eddie in his thirties, showing you around.

The person staring at the doorknob now, was Eddie as a child.

Afraid to go inside, unsure of what he was going to find there.

Not strong enough.

Maybe only just tall enough to even reach.

But, you were strong.

You had witnessed how a little force had gone a long way with these locks, and after giving Eddie a second to maybe ask for help, because God, you really wanted him to realize he could just ask for help, he doesn’t ask for shit, and you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Before Eddie even registers you taking a few steps back to get a running start, the wood of the door has already split from the blow of your shoulder.

“Oh my G–” Eddie jumps, both arms reaching out to grab at you and to pull you close. He makes sure he holds you where you ran into the door, large palm cupping over the curve of your shoulder, and he rubs the skin there. Which helps, because, you’re not really hiding the fact that Jesus fuck that fucking hurt very well.  

Despite the sting, there’s a moment where you both see the humor in what just happened, and looking at each other, you both let huffs of laughter escape you.

“Are you crazy? What you do that for, huh?” Eddie pretend scolds.

You shrug, “Forest Hills way.”  

The comedic relief is so welcome, but it’s short-lived. You see from up close how Eddie’s expression drops. He goes from looking at his insane girlfriend with all the love he’s got for her spilling from his eyes, to looking over your head into the dark room where he used to live, and it all slips away.

You wait by the door.

Want Eddie to do this alone because you think it’ll be better that way.

You also truly don’t know what to do, so it feels a little safer to just… wait outside. You wouldn’t know how to help anyway.

Just like when you were outside of Wayne’s trailer, it feels a little invasive to look at Eddie as he silently takes slow steps inside and looks around. At the same time, you can’t really look away. If he’s going to break down and fall to his knees, you want to be there within a second to pick him back up.

Eddie trails slow fingers along a dresser.

Takes careful steps towards a nightstand of which he opens and then closes the drawer.

��Huh…” he comments. Looks around the full room again, sees it in different light as he stands in another corner, the lights from outside showing him different parts of the room.

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before he steps back out, and he looks… confused.

Surprised, maybe. A little dumbfounded.

He gives the room another glance, and then turns to find you watching him in silence.

“This is really weird,” Eddie comments, both eyebrows raised.

“Yea? How so?”

“I don’t know… it’s different. It’s not like I remember. I think… I don’t know, I think my mind made this room the most terrible place ever in the world, but it’s just… it’s just a room. There’s nothing…” Eddie twirls on the spot, “Yea, it’s just a room. Nothing’s… nothing is scary.”

You swallow audibly, and hesitate before you speak.

“It’s not scary.” Eddie concludes again before you can say anything, and he raises both shoulders at you in a long shrug, like he’s trying to convince you that it’s all right.

You’re not the one who needs convincing though.

“Is, um…” you start, and you clear your throat, entirely unsure of how Eddie is going to react to your question.

After visiting Wayne, you think he gets it now.

He gets why you took him back to Indiana.

Eddie has let his eyes fall on a weird piece of wall art he doesn’t remember, something that maybe they added to the room after his parents had been kicked out, and he’d been taken away to go live somewhere safer.

“Is he here?”

“Huh?”

“Is he in here, somewhere?”

It takes a moment of Eddie looking at you before he fully registers what you’re talking about.

His gaze drifts towards the closet next to the bathroom door.

It’s shut. Both bifold doors closed.

Eddie stalls for a moment, and then he raises an arm to open one of the doors before he drops it by his side again.

The closet’s empty.

It seemingly comes from nowhere, the way your lips suddenly quiver. How your eyes well up with tears so quickly. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to remain silent; this isn’t about you.

Eddie is slowly taking it all in, looks around the inside of the closet. The stains in the carpet. The peeling wallpaper. The mismatched hangers, a couple plastic ones amongst a couple more wire ones. And then he looks up and finds the the little yellowed piece of string that hangs down from way up high.

He reaches up and pulls it.

An audible click is heard.

Nothing changes though.

No light springs on.

Eddie pulls it again. Softly smiles. Pulls it a couple more times.

Click, click.

Click, click.

Nothing happens.

You’re about to burst with a violent sob when you see how Eddie, entirely in his own thoughts, inside of his own memories, slowly steps into the closet and closes the door behind him.

You hear the clicking of the light a couple more times, and need to step away.  

It’s too much.

The visuals of a tiny little malnourished Eddie hiding in a closet unable to reach the string of the light in there is going to make you hyperventilate if you’re not careful, so you have to take a walk.

It’s fucking freezing but hot tears trail down your cheeks as you hurry back to your rental car.

It doesn’t take much longer for Eddie to step outside, leaving the place where he spent the first few years of his life. His long legs carry him over to you quickly.

You can tell that he’s holding back sobs until he’s close enough to crash himself into you.

Arms wrap so tightly, they almost hurt. Bodies wrack with silent sobs until deep breaths calm the both of you down.

It takes a good while.

Eddie is first to pull back, and whilst cupping your face, both his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes in a bid to rid you of your tears, he manages to squeak, “Found him.”

“Yea?” you ask wetly. Hopeful.

This is why you came out here.

To find the small version of Eddie who, even as a toddler, knew that calling out for help was a waste of time because the calls would go unanswered.

To take him home.

“Turned on the–” Eddie throat closes up before he can even say it.

“Turned on the light for him?” you finish for him, and he just nods as he presses his lips together to keep them from wobbling.

Eddie goes in for another hug, hides his face in the side of your neck and grounds himself there.

You can feel how he’s actively trying to steady his own breathing.

It works, eventually.

“Did you…” you start, still holding him, but falter for a moment.

“Did I what?” Eddie asks, sniffing loudly, pulling back after you nudge your nose into his hair.

“Did you take him with you?”

It’s such a silly question. Eddie can’t help the smile that carefully plays at the corner of his mouth, and his eyebrows scrunch up as he looks down at you. He can dissect the question that pops up in the back of his brain for the fourth time today another time. How can he even begin to figure out why he deserves someone like you in his life?

“I did.” He confirms, and you let the breath you were holding escape you in a shudder.

He doesn’t think he deserves you.

“Good.” you smile, and maybe things are starting to look up, a little. Maybe the universe is slowly starting to make amends with Eddie. Is starting to apologize for all the shit it put little Eddie through in this godforsaken place no one should spend more than a single night at.

“Let’s take him home then.”

Eddie cries.

Thought he was done, but he’s not.

He lets you press kisses to the skin just underneath his eyes as he closes them.

He lets you open the car door and help him into the passenger’s seat.

Lets you drive all the way back to Wayne’s whilst he cries, because this is the second time little Eddie makes this trip, from the motel to Forest Hills. But this time he’s not scared.

He knows he’s going to go to a better place.

A safer place.

To a person who will try his very best hand at proper damage control. Who’s got a nice trailer, and a room that will get turned into his own bedroom three days into his stay.

To a person who will join Eddie in the closet for those first few nights. Who will just bring him food in there, have their dinner hidden away together, and who won’t force him out.

Who will play silly games with him in there, until the trips to the bathroom feel safe enough to do on his own.

There’s never other people in the trailer.

Just them.

Safe.

Eddie cries as he remembers more. Thought he had forgotten almost everything, but he remembers so much. He can’t talk about anything yet. Not now. His voice won’t let him. But that’s okay. You’ve got the radio on and need to focus on the road, and you’re taking him back to Wayne, and all he really wants to do is sleep.

And you just drive, and hold Eddie’s hand as he clings to you, and this is good.

It’s good.

Little Eddie deserves the fucking world.

You think so.

And you know of a handful of people who would wholeheartedly agree.

Slowly, you think Eddie might start to understand where you’re coming from.

He was never okay and happy and fine.

Still isn’t okay and happy and fine.

But the light has been switched on.

There’s light now.

He might one day be okay and happy and fine, and that’s something that before today was the most difficult thing to grasp.

“We’re taking you home, kiddo. I got you.” Eddie whispers, soft enough so only he can hear it over the engine and the music coming from the radio.

“Let’s go home.”

---

The Taglisted

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Add yourself

[admirationandromantics]

Reading Material

This was not a request, sorry, but I have been a bit overwhelmed lately, so will not post as much as usual. Anyways, this story is based on the thought of Josh finding out about the sexy smutty book you're reading, and basically how he would react. Hope you like it!

Word count: 1,1k (unedited)

I open the book, resuming on the page I left off. Luckily for me, the cover of it is quite discrete. At the same time, the sex-scenes weren’t many. The book overall is interesting, and has a good plot, but those types of scenes last for at least two chapters in one sitting, so I have to be careful when I read them. Who knows who might be peeking. The only person who usually does is Ashley, but she’s in another room with Chris and Matt, talking about some series or movie she recently watched.

I make myself comfortable on the sofa, knees coming up, tightly pressed together. The page turns, tension building up as the main characters get into it once again. My eyes are glued to the ink, failing to see the shadow behind me. I take it all in, imagining it in my head as they do their thing. What kind of position is that? I turn a page back, trying to make sense of it. One leg there, arms around his torso. Before I can understand it all, a hand comes down, taking a firm grip on the top of the book, snatching it out of my fingers. I yelp at the suddenness, turning quickly while trying to grab it back. 

“Hey!” 

“What do we have here?”

Josh takes a few steps back as I stand up and walk around the furniture. He smiles, turning back a few pages to see the start. I run at him, but he easily dodges my attempt, using one of his hands to push me away. 

“I swear to God, Josh, give it back!” 

“Never knew you had such porn-fantasies” 

“You looked when there was that type of chapter, it’s a good book” 

“Hold up, things just got interesting” he continues, a smirk plastered on his lips as his eyes roll over the lines. I try one more time to snatch it back, but fail again. He starts running to the hallway, and I sigh loudly as I follow. This man will not go tell the others, I’ll make sure of that. 

“Don’t you dare!” I yell, turning the corner in the dark room. As I do, an arm captures me. He slams me against the wall, grabbing both of my wrists in one hand, holding them over my head. 

“I’m not done reading” he teases, eyes capturing mine before going back to the open book. I wiggle, hoping to get out of his grasp. Just as I’m about to make it, his fingers tightens, body pushing mine into the wall, using his legs and upper body strength. 

“Josh, I will literally kill you!” He laughs, gaze going over my form beneath him. 

“Sure you will, oh and look at that” he continues, tongue going over his lips. 

“What?” 

“We’re in the exact same position as those in your little fantasy” 

I can help the blush that spreads on my cheeks, face heating up as he draws himself closer. The other guys are two rooms away, talking loudly and unaware of the situation I’ve put myself in. I feel my breathing get uneven and heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly in response to him. He does the same, the smirk gone and replaced by a small surprised expression. Mouth slightly open, hot air being blown onto my face. I gaze into his eyes, lids low as he shifts his stare from my eyes to my lips, and then up to my eyes again. I can only describe it as a silent request, a question about the next part. I give a small nod, and he comes closer, noses brushing against each other. 

Before I can comprehend what’s happening, he changes positions. He turns us around, making him go against the wall with my back against his chest. I gasp, feeling the pressure on my wrists as he holds them tightly to my side, his muscular arm trapping me on him. Face buries itself in my hair, mouth making its way to my ear. He lifts the book in front of me, forcing my face forward to look at the page. 

“Read this passage out loud” he whispers, lips touching my ear. His fingers graze over the text, guiding me to the relevant sentences. I take a breath, sinking into him, head leaning back on his shoulder. He smells like oranges and bark, a comforting combination. 

“Come on, do it” he teases, using his head to move mine to the side. He starts kissing down my neck, small kisses and bites, not hurting. I look down on the text again, reading every word out loud between gasps of air from how he’s working on me. 

“I crave your tender touches, I want to feel all of you on top of me as I explore every part of your body with my mouth” I whisper. He lets go of my wrists, letting both my arms fall to the side. I don’t move away from him, but instead let his hand wander up my stomach, settling on one of my breasts. 

“Now read the next line” 

I look down again, his thumb caressing the paper, still holding the book firm. 

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it” 

He groans in my ear, chest heaving against my back, moving my body as well. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Matt asks, and we both jump away from one another. I look up embarrassingly, while Josh just stares with his mouth wide open. 

“What are you doing?” 

I’m about to stutter a reply, but Josh beats me to it, putting on his jokester-face and waving the book. 

“Just some light reading” 

“Really?” 

Matt comes closer, snatching the book from his hands. My instincts get the better of me and I yell out a loud “no” while trying to get it back. He holds the book high while reading, one hand holding me back. 

“Damn, this is some nasty stuff y'all” 

Josh looks down, tomato-red blush covering his cheeks. I keep persisting, wanting to get the book back. Bad enough that two of my friends saw this today. 

“Guys! You’ll not believe what I found these two horny fuckers reading together!” he yells to the other room, starting to make his way there. Josh and I give each other a look. This cannot be happening. We scream out protests, and Matt turns around in shock, starting to run when he sees us coming. This is not just a game anymore, we need to get that book back.

[jackles-whore]

Peircing - D.Winchester x f!Reader

Summary: Dean discovers y/n has some peircings

Authors Note: I wrote this a while ago

Warnings: Smut, fingering, nipple sucking, peircings (I think that's it, please let me know if there's more)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

“Dean, I- why does it matter if I keep my shirt on during sex? You only need access to my pussy, and you get that” I mumbled as Dean asked me again why I refused to take off my shirt off during sex.

“Uh, because boobs are the best and I love you” He scoffed, pulling me against his chest so my back pressed against him.

“Well, in the past I’ve had a few…bad reactions” I mumbled, looking to the ground.

He turned me around in one swift motion, his hands gripping my hips as he trapped me between him and the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes darkened.

“Like, guys didn’t exactly like them… they want pure little things” I mumbled, not wanting to say it.

A look of confusion crossed his features. He didn’t know that as soon as I was old enough I got my nipples pierced and every guy I’d been with since had thought I was pure until they saw my little accessories. I’d start leaving my bra or shirt on during sex having grown ashamed of them, but a part of me still liked them and refused to take them out unless they needed to be cleaned or to switch the jewellery.

“Baby, I promise I’ve seen it all. Yours are perfect, I just know it” He said reassuringly, one hand snaking up my side to cup my boob but I stopped him.

“Dean- I’ve been broken up with over this,” I said.

“Well, clearly those guys don’t know what they lost. I promise I won't leave you over your boobs baby. I love boobs, please show me” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss under my jaw.

“Fine but you say one bad thing and I’m gone” I said sternly.

“Show me"

I slowly lifted my shirt over my head, my breasts now exposed. Dean’s eyes widened in shock as he saw the little metal balls on the sides of my nipples.

“That’s the problem in your relationships?” He mumbled, cupping my right breast and running circles with his thumb over my pierced nipple.

“Yes,” I sucked in a breath as I felt my nipples harden under his touch.

He flicked his gaze to my eyes and licked his lips, looking at my boobs again then my eyes with a pleading look. I nodded slowly, knowing what he wanted to do. He lifted me and sat me on the counter in one swift motion and his mouth was immediately attached to my nipple, swirling around the nipple and piercing with his tongue while his hand toyed with my other free nipple. My back arched into his touch as my head slowly fell back, my hands tangling in his short hair.

“Dean” I mumbled as a shaky breath escaped my lips.

“Mmm” He hummed against my chest, pulling away and moving to the other nipple.

“Fuck-” I whispered.

“You’re so sexy baby” He mumbled against my chest, trailing kisses over my chest.

His free hand dipped into my pants, feeling me through my panties, a soft moan escaping my lips. He slowly pushed my panties to the side as he sunk a single finger inside of me. My head fell and rested on his shoulder, his mouth still attached to my nipple, as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of me, his thumb resting on my clit and rubbing slow circles over it sending shivers up my spine.

“Fuck Dean- Just like that” I moaned, biting his shoulder softly as he curled his finger hitting my g-spot.

I could feel the knot building and slowly tightening. Closer and closer but not close enough.

He added a second finger, stretching me out, circling my clit and curling into my G-spot. The coil tightened into a tight not.

“Fuck- God Dean- I’m close- I’m gonna-” I bit down on his shoulder again as I clenched down in his fingers and came all over them.

He slowly pumped his fingers, helping me down from my high and pulling away from my nipples.

“Your shirt is coming off during sex from now on” He mumbled before pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

Thank you @jasvtsc for the free seperaters ❤️

[quarterlifekitty]

More Porn-Rot soap? maybe hes in so deep that you put restrictions on the mans devices so he cant see porn in an attempt to ween him off but it backfires and hes got reader doing the nastiest shit to satiate his needs until she gives up and gives him his porn back

yea by nastiest shit i mean like nasty nasty, piss, feet, wtv tf your little sick brain comes up with :3

cw: piss, foot fetish

You know what I’m thinking? Being a member of the 141, you and Soap aren’t an item yet. You just get off of a really long leave— like three months, maybe, and suddenly go deep into covert op. Close quarters, no contact with the outside world whatsoever— they don’t even have books or journals with them.

And someone got a little too used to being able to whip out his phone and jack off to whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he’s always fancied you. Maybe he watches a few actresses you happen to resemble, you are his type, after all.

At first he tries to be subtle. You’ve made camp and need to go off for a piss? He’s the first to volunteer to come with you to watch your back. You took a bit of a fall? Shoes and socks off, he needs to check and see if you got a sprain.

You’ve changed in front of him before plenty of times— you’re teammates. But he’s never been this hard up for a nut before while around you. Makes a man start to act up. Makes him act unwise.

Eventually you catch on that he’s being a bit cagey, and strange, but just around you. So you take him somewhere quiet to talk— wondering if you did something to change the relationship.

That’s when he comes clean. That’s when he starts begging. Just to see a little more. Just a bit. Just enough to give him some fantasy fuel so he can get this out of his system. And at first? It’s so easy. He’s so deprived that he barely needs to see anything.

But the tolerance builds quickly. And you gave this man an inch— so he’s about ready to take a mile. Begging you to face him and spread your legs when you piss. Then begging you to let him wipe you clean. Then begging to clean you with his mouth. Just a taste— promise. It’s always just with Johnny, but that’s never where it ends.

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Chapter 3: From Ruins

It was hard for Silco to not fidget and be uncomfortable at the prospect of letting his daughter and his old life go, it was understandable for the man who tried desperately to have it all to let go of all that he built. Of the one whom he loved. And he was cold, trying to find his way in the dark, walking way ahead of you so the light of your waning candle can't illuminate his way. In a way it was commendable, his determination in healing and rebuilding on his own, but it was also way too reminiscent of your own refusals at each and every proposals for help. You two were two sides of the same coins, one frigid and sharp, the other searing yet soft, and no matter how clipped his words could be the understanding you had of him only grew, and so did the care. At first it had been because he was a Zaunite, but as he shared your life it came to be because you genuinely wanted him to finally own something, build something, that would remain. Something that'd make him happy. Because underneath the wit, the short sentences, the cold shoulder, the narrowed eyes, the tense face and the semi permanent snarl, you could see a glimpse of the man he could be.

It was always for simple things like dinner ready for you after work, your appartment cleaned in your absence, a glass of alcohol and a cigarette set on the table on longer days, and when you woke up in the mornings your body was always covered in a blanket. You didn't know whether it was to appologize for his words and behavior, to show he did want to change or out of gratitude for you respecting his boundaries and saving him, but you'd wager it was a little bit of everything. So in kind, you'd take time to get his shimmer when it ran out, made him breakfast, always were patient when you saw him struggling with kindness, and always respected his need for a certain distance unless he approached you first. It was a song and dance you were used to in a way, most of the Undercity were hurt and fearful, and befriending any of them could prove complex, it was something you even did with yourself. Struggling to be kind, to rest, to respect and even appreciate yourself was a sad truth you had to live on the daily although you were more than happy to give that treatment to others, Silco struggled with both and so the dance was that much slower. More like careful steps approaching a small animal that a waltz.

But as the second month of his presence in your life passed, as his body was done healing, you found yourself not minding the pace. You didn't know whether you could earn his friendship or not, yet you knew that he was warming up to you from how he came downstairs to eat with you in the mornings and evenings instead of eating alone, because his voice echoed more often from within your quaint home. No matter if his tone was the same no nonsense drawl, he spoke more and it's all that mattered. But you could see that he was getting antsy, the books you had in your bookshelf almost all read, the appartment cleaned all too often and you found him switching from the armchairs to the couch, the kitchen, the bed and pace himself into the floor. So you decided that since he wished to stay you could introduce him to a more productive way to spend his days.

"Silco, I was thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself." His rumbling words make you scoff.

"Very funny mister One Eyed Wonder. Anyways, I've noticed you were going a bit stir crazy, so I was wondering if you'd like to come to work with me. An extra pair of hands would be more than welcome."

And it was true, having to prepare everything in advance all the time yet still have to move to get the necessary materials as you soldered, chiselled, hammered, smelted and more, was time consuming along with the deliveries and taking care of the counter. You knew about Silco being an ex miner from words on the streets as a child, describing the leaders of a new revolutionary movement as "diggers", yet one of them being as thin as a sheet of aluminum. As the movement grew and so did its influence, Silco was no longer seen as a "dirty little thing" but as a stubborn, determined, infinitely clever, agile, fast and deceptively strong man, using his body frame to overtake any enemy undermining him. You guessed that he should have retained a bit of his strength, if not from his past, to keep himself ready for a fight that could happen at any moment.

"And what would you have me do exactly?"

"Take orders, help me deliver them, look at the ledgers, it would help me to have all of my focus on smithing and i'd be able to make stuff quicker and better. At least consider it, it would do you good to get out of here and do something."

"You'd have me work with people? You do know that if anyone of my previous..." He pauses. " ...collegues..." The word is said with bitter disdain. "Discovers I'm here, they'll come to wreak havoc."

That was indeed a possibility, the Chem Barons sniffing his trail from a whisper in the street and coming to get him, for good this time. But if that happened you knew that their goons would have nothing against you, barely trained buffoons with an empty brain the lot of them, that much you knew from fighting them. And Zaunite pride, thank Janna for it, would prevent them from trying anything like mercenaries for someone like Silco. Because although he had lost his empire, he was still more astute and way more intelligent than them, and he was still strong, that much was guessed from his grabs on your throat and hands when he had first woken up, and that had been when he was at his weakest so you couldn't fathom your strength now. Plus your little hole in the wall community was loyal beyond expectation, you knew that they'd understand and welcome him if he pulled his weight.

"I know, but I also know that they'd still be too scared of you even after your fall from grace." You reach inside your pocket and pull an eyepatch, a leather triangle doubled with some soft fabric on the inside while one long string escaped its upper right side and the bottom angle to be tied around his head. "I'm no seamstress but I made you this at work during lunch"

He hums in surprise, this teal eye growing darker as his lid falls to cover half of it. He inspects it, hands brushing the leather and strings, caressing the inside of the eyepatch and bending the item to test its durability.

"Do you think me that unsightly?" His voice clips.

"No. I'm just scared the heat and fumes would make your eye hurt. I know you kept your eye out as a symbol and a method of intimidation but you have no need for it anymore, you can prioritise comfort over your façade Silco."

You sigh and lean yourself on your elbows and smile a little bit with a tilt of your head.

"Plus the eyepatch would make you look rugged in my opinion." You huff out a laugh. "Beware the tall blacksmith's assistant, they say if you take away the leather covering him, his gaze will steal your soul." You muse teasingly while wiggling your fingers, your first attempt at such a quip leaving you slightly nervous at how he would take it.

But instead of the scraping of the chair and his retreating form upstairs like you expected, you see silco put on the eyepatch, a scoff shaking his chest. And after properly tying the knot behind his face, he slides a hand through the crown of his head, placing strands that had fallen out of their usual slick back in their original place.

"Maybe so. But the grey flesh would still scare people away."

"I don't think so. Everyone's got scars here Silco, no matter how they look or if they're visible at all." You reassure softly, smile growing at seeing him don your contraption. "Plus makeup would melt in the heat, trust me I've tried. It would look patchy and horrible after a good half hour."

He nods, his hand brushing through his hair again. His good eye narrowing once more in thought. His old clothes had been discarded, the blood ruining them, he was wearing some clothes you that had been given by your landlord, his oldest son growing much taller than this before he moved out. They were simple and classic Zaunite fashion. High waisted black cargo pants with a thigh harness on his right leg, combat boots, a cropped maroon turtleneck sweater that missed its left sleeve and showed part of his stomach, a fingerless glove covering the rest of his arm up until half way through the bicep. The covered arm also harboring a fingerless glove yet only wrist high, his chest adorned with a harness that surrounded his ribs and upper stomach in two belts with a strap on each side stretched vertically to reach the lower belt behind him, passing through the upper one. He had a cropped leather jacket draped over the back of the chair he sat in, it closed with belts and the collar was a similar maroon to his shirt. All in all, he looked less like a Piltovan like before and more like a classic Zaunite, if anything the new clothes fit him even more, made him look younger. It was as if you had gotten a glimpse of Silco's younger self without needing to look into the past. Dark hair peppering with streaks of silver at the temples and a few on the crown of his head, the eyepatch hiding the fire and ash of his left eye, the few wrinkles, his eyebags and the marred side of his face in a discolored, fleshy gray were the only clue of his age being any different.

And they looked good on him if you said so yourself. And so you did.

"You don't look half bad for an old grump." At least in a way that wouldn't feel like pity or a slight to him.

"You're one to talk, you reek of sweat and look like a drowned Sump rat." You chuckle at that and tilt your head "touché" escaping your lips to agree with the man, but you feel your technique has worked. His shoulders were a little more relaxed, a little taller, as he crossed his legs, a cigarette now held between his lips as he slid the packet to you.

"So when would you have me come in?"

"When do you want to come?"

He hums pensively, lighter flicking to let the flame nip at the end of the cylinder held in his mouth, a deep inhale following as you take a cigarette of your own and light it aswell.

"Tomorrow?"

"It works for me." You exhale, a ring of smoke floating above you as you tilt your head back. "Thanks for the meal by the way."

He didn't seem like he ate much, but after two months together you realized that he probably didn't have much time for it aswell as sleep, and the meals and rest he got here were the best he had gotten in years. His natural coldness melting down to a simple façade and letting you think about the wonders of a stressless life. Now your own was not stress free at all, so many hurdles with orders, missing materials, broken equipment, plus the deliveries, rent, and people always asking for you to fix things at their homes and prices for materials always climbing. But you know that Silco had the weight of the entire city of Zaun on his back as the leader of the Chem Barons, but also of his own territory, and shimmer creation and export, aswell as god knows how many other schemes along with the constant target on his back and a child. He probably hadn't known a real meal or night of sleep since forever, and you're glad that the metaphorical new him indulged in those, enjoying larger meals and longer nights. And you don't know how or why, but he cooked pretty well for a cantankerous old man, but then again he did have a daughter. Which made you smile at the thought of him preparing meals for a small blue haired girl, the kid sitting near him and talking his ear off or humming as he cooked.

"What are you smiling about, pet?"

"Ew. Never call me that again." You make a face and snort out a laugh. "And nothing, just happy you're less of a grouchy fossil."

"I'll choke you in your sleep."

"That's underhanded." You lean forward on the table, eyes gleaming. "Coward."

"Pissant."

You act offended and look at his narrowed eye, shining in something you could almost call mirth. "I thought you were a gentleman!"

"We've both established that man is gone. Plus I'm just calling it how I see it." His lips stretch from their usual natural sneer, a small cocky smirk adorning his face. "You're a pissant, so I call you as such. What else should I refer you as?"

"Your hero, your knight in shining armor, the Sump queen..." You list jokingly and he rolls his eye, legs uncrossing as he stubs out his cigarette before he stands up, sauntering to the stairs as he always does when he goes to rest. "Night, Silco."

He hums back, a hand lifts in a lazy wave as he climbs up the stairs and you roll your shoulders, lazily smoking the remnant of your own tobacco, the taste and smell relaxing you. The rest of the night is a blur then, a shower, and throwing yourself on your couch, your back groaning aswell as the furniture, two months in a row of this sleeping arrangement was wrecking your back but the man did deserve rest. A revolutionary from his teens to his...how old even was he? "Maybe I'll ask him one day" you think to yourself, curling up on your side away from the window. You disliked sleep, you wished you didn't, but your nights were always filled with the smell, taste and sight of blood, the loud cheering, the monochrome colors cut by splatters of red. Your head was your own personal hell, custom made to welcome you in your sleep or whenever silence struck you, your mind slipping down the slippery slope. It was always an experience, falling asleep. Your apprehension kept you from sleeping, nerves thrumming with stress and fear yet your body sinking into whatever it was you were sleeping on because of exhaustion. Yet you needed to sleep, and you did, only a handful of hours, no more than five each night since as long as you could remember. You take a deep breath, sending the thoughts away, eyes now screwed shut to try to fall asleep as soon as you can.

Faces flashing with cockiness, then fear, then horror, then nothing if a face was left at all, hands raw and stained with blood, your own or theirs you didn't know anymore, everybody looked the same on the inside after all. But sometimes you wondered if you did, or if a void was left behind, maybe everything was rotten? It would explain why you were such a mess inside. A sigh racks through you as you try to empty your mind again. Tomorrow you would bring Silco to the shop and he would help, that was something to look forward to. It meant there would be less silence, and more clients if you two worked well enough. It also meant Silco would be back out in the world, and maybe in danger, although you want to hope it wouldn't happen but you never know in Zaun. Would he like the people there? Would the people like him, forgive him for his past actions? They had taken you in, bloodied and frenzied, and gave you a home, but would they extend the same kindness to someone as infamous as him? Would they see he's trying?

As your thoughts spiral once again, you don't hear deliberate footsteps walking towards you, then there was a small sigh and warmth that ripped apart every thought swarming your head. And as silly as it was, that simple feeling, no matter what it was, brought enough calm to your mind for you to fall asleep. Later waking up with a startle, a gasp slicing through the silence like a cleaver through meat, you realize a blanket is layered on top of you, the neon lights of Zaun illuminating your living room slightly through the window alcove showing how neatly you were tucked in. You wrap the blanket around you and waddle to the kitchen, preparing coffee and taking the full pot with you to the pillowy seat nestled in the window's arch, a sort of couch that you used every morning when nightmares shook you awake. That's all you do each morning before Silco wakes up, it's all you've always done since you escaped really, forced to bear the heavy silence spurring on your thoughts, jumpstarting your spiralling as you tried and failed to keep yourself from disassociating.

"You're up early." You startle and almost punch Silco

"I always am." You sigh, looking one last time to the neon lit city and its claustrophobic rocky walls and ceiling before staring at the man behind you, turning as you do. "Coffee?" You point to the pot sitting with you in the alcove and he nods, leaving for the kitchen and coming back with a mug in hand. The same one he's been using since you two got into your new rhythm of life, which was about to change again today.

"Do you get any sleep at all?" He asks, nodding in thanks at his now full cup, your legs curling under me so he can sit down, you shrug, your heavy eyes finding his teal one, still covered in the eyepatch.

"Slept with it?"

"Yes, it's quite comfortable and it gives me more peace of mind knowing I won't scratch my eye with the pillow or sheets in my sleep."

You sigh in understanding. "I should've made it a long time ago then. Sorry Silco."

He hums, hand softly flicking the air in a lazy "don't worry" wave. He looks outside, his eye softening just a moment before he takes a sip of lukewarm coffee, sitting up and walking to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. You look at him confused, breakfast was usually the meal you prepared but he seemed almost adamant to make it as you shuffle to the kitchen.

"Silco, just go sit, breakfast's my turn."

"Not anymore. Go get ready, you look nothing short of dreary."

"Ouch." You mumble, bringing the blanket closer you you and narrowing your eyes at him before shuffling upstairs, changing into your clothes for the day, discarding your pyjamas in the bathroom as you brush your hair and splash some cold water on your face. Breakfast was ready by the time you came back to the living room, folding the blanket to put it over one of your armchairs before walking to the kitchen. Breakfast went by quickly and soon you were walking to the shop with Silco in tow, the man observing the houses, shops and alleys you passed, the few rare people out at that time nodding their greetings at you two, eyes narrowing inquisitively at Silco. You explain that you waking up this early was almost a blessing in your job, it left you time to get the hearth to the right temperature and check your tools and material in peace before the clients arrived. He quickly followed your orders, making lists of everything you pointed towards, carrying boxes back and forth in the shop, forge and in the back.

When the clock struck 8 a.m you opened the metallic blinds outside and flipped the little "open" sign, getting immediately back to work and working with metal and flames to create strong tools and appliances, fixing broken parts and objects. With Silco at the front you had to yell over the top of your incessant tinkering to explain that he was your new assistant, the man introducing himself politely to everyone in flurries of progressively more annoyed words.

"Good day sir/ma'am, I'm Silco. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Everytime the question of who he was resounded again you couldn't help but giggle at the tensing of his body before he took a deep breath and introduced himself yet again, the man glaring at you before going back to taking orders. You left him in the shop to buy your lunch, letting him get some alone time after a busy morning.

"You're a madwoman. Genuinely. Silco? I thought you were more clever than that." These words were repeated to you in every way, shape and form as you walked to your favourite stall while surrounded by a group of people, and sighing you turn to Oleg, a miner working in the deepest recesses of the fissures.

"Listen, I know it seems like a bad idea but he was a dying man, I saved him and told him that since he lost everything he might as well do something better of his life. And he is doing just that, so I don't get why you're getting on my case when all of you have done the same to me." The little crowd of clients following you stopped as you glare in their direction. You know it was somewhat different for Silco, yet it was the same. The only thing separating you was the fame you harbored when you started your new life. "You saw a girl with blood and flesh clinging to her hands like seafoam to the shore and you took her in with open arms. I'm not asking you to trust him immediately, it would be hypocritical knowing how infamous he was, but by Janna give him a chance like you did for me! He was who he was but he lost it all, he is the Eye of Zaun no more, he's just Silco and he's a Zaunite like all of us."

Your hand rakes through your hair as you expell out a sigh, your words ringing through the now silent street. Your steps taking you away from the group as sound found its way back little by little, people nodding at you but what you saw wasn't a greeting, it was the subtle sign of respect accorded from one trencher to another when they did something right by the book. It was a symbol that had you preening as you went back to the shop with a warm bag in hand hanging from the crook of your elbow.

The bell rang as you entered, walking towards the back where Silco was, leaning his elbows on the table as he sat on a chair, one hand holding his hand up as his eyes looked over your ledger, his eyepatch discarded on the side.

"Food's here." His eyes drag lazily to you before closing the book, straightening up on his seat while you get to your own, placing the hot meal on the table. "How did the morning go, are you holding up alright?"

"It's more...social, than I'm used to." He sighs and thanks you for the meal, taking a couple of bites before his eyes drag back to you and his good eyebrow raises.

"Are you?" He must be referring to your thrumming body, shaken by your swiftly bouncing leg. "Sorry" is uttered softly and he shakes his head in dismissal.

"I'm f-" His eyes narrow and you huff, shovelling some food in your mouth to calm down, taking your time to chew. "Alright, alright don't get on my ass. Janna. Just a few people buzzing around me uncomfortably as I went to the market."

"It was about me wasn't it." His voice was softer, his eyes looking at you invitingly, coaxing an answer out of you as you nod. He looks to the side, his bites getting slower as he thinks. "If it's too much of a hass-"

"Shut it." His face snaps to you as if you'd slap him, face confused and nearly offended. "You're not a hassle Silco, I've made that clear. They've taken me in, of all people, so you shouldn't be that big of a deal either, infamous or not." Is mumbled before you knock back your drink, finishing the rest of your meal. "You're doing your best, that's all I'm asking. And if it ain't enough for them, then they'll have to wait. End of story."

He huffs, the closest thing you could get to a laugh from him as his eyes glimmer in the neon light, the teal ice melting and the orange flames flickering when he looked at you. A small smile grew on your face and your shoulders slumped after a deep breath, your eyes enough to tell Silco that it'd all be alright.

"We both knew people wouldn't necessarily accept you, I gave them a push towards the right way and now they're gonna have to see the truth for what it is. What use is there to dig a deeper grave for a dead man?" You add as you retrieve the containers, throwing them in the trash before washing your hands.

"And you'd let them think you a bad person just because you've taken me in? For as long as it takes for them to accept me if they even do?" His voice calls out from behind, getting closer as he leans on the small counter next to the sink, next to you.

You hum, nodding softly while you wipe your hands. "Who says I'm a good person Silco?" You pat him on the shoulder, the contact making his body stiff from tension as you walk back to the door, flipping the sign yet again to open for the afternoon.

The rest of the afternoon was spent similarly with Silco working up front with the customers and you slaving away in the forge, quipping in whenever you could. Silco didn't look quite as bothered to introduce himself as he was this morning, and although he was tense you could only guess it was from the amount of people he talked to. Your shop provided for anyone that needed it from miners to contractors, doctors, and even children and parents. Not only from your hole in the wall but from the surrounding neighborhoods aswell, people coming from near and afar for a good service at a reasonable price, your honesty and hard work earning you a loyal clientelle. And as days passed the tense looks and whispers exchanged at Silco's presence at the register, sat down pouring over orders and ledgers, finally starting to make space for longer greetings, a few "how are you"s and weather talks before getting to business. Your week being based off of the workers' schedules Sundays and Mondays were your days off, Tuesdays to Fridays were in the shop and Saturdays were delivery days. The first one Silco was a part of was barely spent explaining at all, the man knowing the Undercity's Entresol, Fringes and Sump levels quite well from his youth, albeit you did show him a few safe enough alleyways to cut through. When you had to deliver a couple of steel toe guards to the mines he did ask to be left out, and you complied, knowing better than to shove someone back in a place with so much meaning so early on in their healing process.

Silco's help in the shop reflected in the work you did, you could focus more on your craft and thus make and fix pieces faster and better than before, the man dealing with numbers and orders quite masterfully. Saturdays were spent split apart after the second week, delivering quicker and more efficiently so you could bow out earlier. The clients whether at the shop or in their own homes began warming up to him, striking up amicable conversations in the streets and at the shop; and he warmed up to them too his voice lacking the bite it had at first, the social situations no longer bothering him and even being welcomed by him. At home the rhythm was pretty much the same, you cooked in the mornings, he did at night, you'd share a smoke and a drink and then head to sleep after a shower. But it was comfortable, almost homely, and your talks now were more than a couple of exchanged sentences like they used to be but more like full fledged, hours long conversations. And so with the responsibilities shared between the both of you, you could finally plan your little sabotages again, taking infos as you passed in the streets with your ears focused on as many conversations as you could, same in the shop although the noise you made in the forge made it harder for you to listen in.

Shimmer production had been stopped, that much you knew, yet you heard Margot stormed the warehouses and started redistributing the liquid at the highest price, capitalizing on Silco's death. You would have bet on Smeegle doing that sort of thing, but he died. After the whole fiasco, the remaining four barons had fought over who would get which share of the pie; but Renni had die on a terrorist attempt at the newly made Councilor Memorial in Piltover and Smeech was apparently killed by Jinx, if what the rumors said was true. Which left only Margot and Chross from the old regime. Margot had apparently suffered great losses due to the grey appearing back in her HQ, but dealt with those losses quite well by balancing them with heavy profits at her brothels. Chross himself had been rather silent, you saw his men sometimes during deliveries, listening as you passed by. The man was rounding up troops to take as much of Zaun as he could before new Chem Barons could rise to the top, although it seems like a few already were making their way there. One in particular named Renata Glasc, one of the rare Zaunites to harbor a last name. While you couldn't do much to thwart Chross, especially since his men were one of your best sources of information, you definitely could for Margot and it would definitely help you for Silco's treatment.

An injection could only dampen the pain and stop the rotting for so long before the metabolism flushed it out, a day to be exact. So you would have to look into that, while you weren't a scientist, Samira could help and in exchange for new material and tools that you could provide. The shimmer shipments would come in the last part of your plan though, as you needed to set a few things up beforehand. Margot's manpower had been divided between the losses in the gang wars, the losses due to the grey, and the remainder of her people either working or moving said shipments. But you were only one woman, so everyday after Silco turned in for the night, you'd nurse another drink, smoke escaping your lips as you took a drag from yet another cigarette as you mulled over plans, the map of Zaun stretched before you and your unoccupied hand scribbling on a notebook. And every night you'd get little sleep, as much as when Silco was not present in your life, but you still woke up with a blanket laid on top of you while wondering how the man even did it everytime like clockwork.

You disliked having to hide it from him, priding yourself in honesty will do that to you, but you decided to keep up the lie just a bit longer as he got used to living here as his new self, refusing to burden him with your own fights. The first night you left, you had rushed through the sewer systems to listen in to a meeting, a smoke bomb covering sights as you took out each member present, taking the plans that were laid on the table. The second night was soon after, hurrying on the roofs to interrogate a handful of women that had been very cooperative once you had mentioned ruining their faces, the bread winner in women working in the environment they did. And slowly you made Margot panic, more members placed at what she thought were important outposts, until the shimmer warehouses were a reachable goal for a "one woman army" such as yourself, leading your revolution silently against those who didn't give a care about their fellow Zaunites.

"Where are you always going so late?" Makes you tense slightly, and as you turn towards Silco's voice you see him leaning against the table and you sigh.

"Don't sneak up on me, please." A hand is ran over your face tiredly.

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't keep things from me." He almost growls, his voice dark and so were his eyes. You knew it was because he felt betrayed, and you felt bad for lying to him, you really did. But he was a man who worked towards a revolution in his life only to have it be taken from his hands violently each time, you didn't want to worry him or bring back memories he's rather forget. It felt silly, protecting this battle hardened, intelligent veteran of a man from things that could hurt him in any way, but you couldn't help it. Just like you couldn't help yourself in trying to help Zaun in every small way you can, or even Silco by getting enough shimmer to last him longer and maybe even begin to try and find him an antidote. It was just hard to hide or to reveal because you both prized loyalty and honesty, but you also knew he would feel like you're taking pity on him and get angry whether at you or himself.

"I don't have much time for myself anymore, so I just take a walk. I can't sleep usually, so I thought that instead of being restless at home I could just tire myself out." You sit next to him. "I'm as used to this as you are Silco, but I wasn't given the time to breathe until now. Which is partly thanks to you and your hard work, thank you for that."

He tilts his head to look at you and nods, seemingly letting go of the subject. "Do you have a dagger?"

Your head turns, gaze catching his and a small smile softens your face as you shake your head and he sighs, reaching to the band on his thigh and retrieving his own.

"If you're going out, at least don't be stupid." That would be the closest to "stay safe" but you'd take it, the words dripping with much more care than you'd expect from him. But then again, in this new life of his that he is building up from ruins of his past, you were his only constant aswell as the one who saved him. Now whether he acted like this simply out of gratefulness or out of a true need to connect, you didn't know, and it was more than okay.

Weighing the dagger in your hand for a moment you pocket it with a small "thanks" and nudge Silco with your shoulder teasingly.

"I'll stay safe and sound, don't you worry. Don't sleep too late, okay?" You utter softly, beginning to walk towards the door.

"Hypocrite." He scoffs.

"Fossil." You throw back, looking over your shoulder as he scoffs, walking away from the table with a nonchalant wave as his goodnight.

And with that you were out, heading towards the warehouse where all the shimmer had been transferred, your little stunt making sure that they put all the stock in one place, the cold air of Zaun nipping at your skin as the neon lights provided ample lighting and enough shadows to hide. As you arrive you know that your preparation hasn't been in vain, there are much less goons than there should be in such an important spot. So silently you make your way around, analyzing the rounds they made, the unsuspecting women going down one by one, quickly and silently with each of your punches. Once the outside was cleared you dragged the bodies out of sight and slipped in, the inside was much more protected and it could be a problem. So you retrieve a bolt from your pocket, throwing it away from you in a blind spot that would allow you to take out some of the lackeys. Once they bite at the bait you slip between cases filled with shimmer containers and rid yourself of the handful of them. This warehouse was not a big one, enough to accomodate what was left of Silco's shimmer stocks after stopping production and destroying part of his supply, some of the rest having been pillaged in his absence. That meant that it was easier to take the goons down but also that there weren't many hiding spots or enough space to keep yourself safe in case you got ambushed or found out. You hide between cases as another group comes in to check on their comrades and make quick work of them too. Sliding behind a handful that was posted around an exit you catch one, dragging her back in the shadows as you constrict her throat, using the alert when her collegues couldn't find her to slip behind each of them and continue your silent takeover. No more groups were left, all the bodies now piled and hidden away in the shadows as you place small handmade bombs made of old metal sheets, nuts and bolts, and some explosives given to you by miners, around each corner. Around nine of them were now placed, the radius of one explosion being enough to detonate the ones next to it who would detonate the rest. But as you opened a crate, ready to pocket as much shimmer as you could before you ran you heard noises. Four last group of lackeys had remained, switching after a certain amount of time with one of those which you had beaten so they could rest. The calm contentment of a job well done replaced by panicked annoyance.

The one thing you wished would not happen, happened.

The ambushers were quick to recover from the shock of seeing you and rushed to you, possibilities of escape gone as you fight your way through a horde of very angry, leather clad women. Whips were flailing you, clawed fingers dug in your skin, but you fought back with punches and kicks strong enough to break bone and bites that had your jaw aching and their blood spilling. Your brutality was wore than they could handle, using their whips to drag them to you, their sharp nails digging into their own flesh after a well place attack. But no matter how strong you were, it was one woman against two dozen and the sheer number made up for their lack of battle intelligence. The last three pinning you to the ground by the legs and shoulders as one was straddling you, beating your face black and blue, letting the torture continue. As your vision darkens, blood filling your mouth and nose at the relentless assault, you remember the metal object in your pocket. So you act as if you were putting up a fight, fidgetting as your hand inched closer to your pocket, spotty vision getting spottier, breathing getting harder. But then your hand grazes the dagger and with a flick all was over. The woman above you choking on her blood as she held her neck, the one at your legs kicked after she releases her hold a bit out of surprise, and the one holding your shoulders stabbed in the head. Getting up you inch closer and drop to your knees, straddling the lackey left stunned, and run the dagger in the middle of her forehead, the poor girl twitching before everything goes silent. Ripping the weapon away from were the blade was currently stuck you fell backwards, wiping it on your jacket from all the blood before shoving it back in your pocket as you took deep gulps of air.

Your vision was coming back but you knew that you looked like a mess without even seeing it, expecting bruises, hand shaped marks, claw marks and whip burns aswell as a black eye. Your nose was definitely broken, but all your teeth seemed to be intact, even through your bloodied mouth, your tongue and cheeks were chewed and needed care though, just as the rest of your body did.

So with a groan you slowly got up, deciding not to overstay in case a new group of lackeys appeared out of nowhere. Pocketing as much shimmer as possible you shove some in your coat, in your pants, even in your shoes and shirt, before pulling the pin on the center bomb. After a good twenty seconds, you are close enough to hear the first explosion and all of those that followed but far enough to not get hit, the bright burning orange turning purple from the shimmer, ground rattling at the force. Your form retreating in the shadows of alleyways as voices shouted at the noise and burst of bright light, limping out of the area as fast as you can without hurting yourself more than necessary. Although it was hard when your whole body felt like it was drowning in a vat of acid and your spine was turned into powder, you still dragged yourself home, silently yet heavily climping up the stairs, walking drunk on pain as you fumble with your keys.

You close and lock the door as softly as possible and move to the table, taking out all the shimmer vials within your clothes, dropping your coat on the chair before you drag yourself to the bathroom for a very painful yet deserved shower. Barely standing up you look at your reflection on the condensation covered mirror. " I look like death" you think scoffing before putting on your underwear you reach for your kit, the same one that had helped you keep Silco alive four months ago. And coming out of the warm bathroom you begin to drag yourself to the alcove.

"I see your walk has gone well."

"Shit."

There he was on the couch to your left, arms draped over the back of the seat, his legs crossed, the orange eye glowing angrily in the dark just like the tip of the cigarette he took drags off ever so often. You sigh, continuing your walk there, tensing in pain at each step, each breath, a wheeze escaping you as you sit in the pillowy alcove, refusing to look at or talk to Silco out of shame. And just as you opened the heavy chest to begin treating your wounds, two frigid, porcelain like hands catch your wrists. Silco sat down next to you, back to the window and began perusing through your medical material, pulling out bandages, ointment, hydrogen peroxyde and a cloth.

"Don't move." He commands, calm yet louder than thunder, dark and gravelly. He moves to the kitchen where you see him prepare a basin, and boiling water, cutting it with cold water in the basin before taking it aswell as another cloth and walking back. The cloth was wrung and as you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion, he moved it to your face. You took the hint and closed your eyes, appreciating the very hot towel's feeling on your bloated and bruised face.

"It helps with bruising, stimulates blood flow." You nod, too ashamed to voice anything. Rustling is heard and your left forearm burns, he was caring for your wounds. "You lied."

"I did." You say finally, unable to appologize as you knew you probably broke what little trust he had towards you.

"Explain everything. Do not gloss over any detail." His voice is low, grip strong against your hurt body, but you nod. Explaining everything in great detail, from how you've started your acts of rebellion up until tonight. You wanted the old Silco dead, wanted the last of his empire to crumble so he could be free. You needed the shimmer to help soothe his pain, needed to thwart any Chem baron's plan to take over Zaun after his death. Your voice growing angry and frustrated as you get into a rant.

"They're self-righteous, narcissistic, power hungry freaks that just prove to the Pilties we are what they see us as. They steal from the mouths, hands and soils of their own people for Janna's sake! It's disgusting, and it is even more so because of how profitable it is to them. They do just like Piltovan nobles, councilors and scientists do to us, and because of them we're reduced to even less than we were before. So I fight, I fight against those who betrayed us, whether it is the city of progress or our own flesh and blood."

His grip got softer as you talked, the stinging of the hydrogen peroxide soothed by the slow gentleness of his touch.

"I want Zaun to belong to the Zaunites. The ones that die for simply existing here, the ones that work their ass off to provide for their families and themselves while the sycophantic, self-absorbed, self-important monstrous Barons and Piltovans profit off of their suffering. But I'm only one woman, so I plan and I plan to create small annoyances that could or could not be great setbacks in their plans. I do that because I believe in the dream you once had, but I don't believe in the violence and manipulation you used to get to the point you were at before. So I fight like a Zaunite, I think like a Zaunite, I follow the Zaunite code and I help my people day in and day out no matter in how, no matter what. And their gratefulness is why I still fight even if things seem impossible."

You take a deep breath, shaking as tears escape your eyes from beneath the hot towel.

"Janna, I just want to be free! You leave a prison to get in a bigger and crueller one, it's not fair! And no matter how much you crawl and grovel, no matter how much you climb and fight, you always end up at the same spot because of those disgusting...fucking monsters! And it's all a goddamn game of monopoly to them as if we weren't the ones paying the price of their foolishness." Your breath is heavy, chest moving up and down in anger before the cloth is ripped from your eyes, face held between long fingers by the chin.

"And yet you still fight?" You nod, your eyes finding his and not finding them angry, it was something deeper, sadder. He was looking both at you and through you, like a ghost of the past was breathing down your neck. "And do you think what you're doing is good?"

"I told you, I'm not a good person."

"That wasn't what I asked." His grip on your chin tightens momentarily to bring you out of your spiral.

"I do what I believe is good." You sigh deeply, back relaxing against the alcove. "I know the lackeys are most likely people doing this to save themselves or their families. It doesn't feel any better to kill them, even if it gets easier. But they work for someone evil, and by proxy they do evil things, so I get rid of them. I do the same with enforcers. I know I can't save Zaun, even if I desperately wish I could. I just help provide our people respite, and that's all that matters to me."

He nods pensively, hand leaving your chin to continue wrapping you up. Dipping the towel in the hot water again before placing it on your face.

"You say you aren't a good person, but your morals are more sound than mine have been in over a decade. There is no pure good in this world, and although there is some evil most of what exists is colored in shades of grey."

His hands brush against your clavicle, a silent question. You nod and stinging begins from your chest at is ministrations.

"I had forgotten that the normalcy of these shades of grey didn't make you any more righteous. And from someone like you, I became who I am...who I was. Blinded by rage at the world against what they did to our people, and to me. Your kindness is a form of rebellion in itself in a world where many end up like me." His voice is soft, almost barely a whisper as pain surges from your stomach area, the stinging from hydrogen peroxide burning your flesh. "The people here like you, you're honest, you work hard, you're gentle. That's more than what any of us are usually given. Revolution is never done without blood, even if you feel guilty remember that, at the very least, you care for the other trenchers unless proven unworthy and never hurt an innocent."

Your fists clench and so does your jaw, lips pulled downward in a weak snear.

"You don't know that."

"Did you want to?" You shake your head, leaning backwards after because of the searing migraine crushing your head. "Were you forced to?" You hesitate, yet nod slowly, the hands wrapping up your middle tucking the bandage neatly. "Many of us end up killing at least once out of necessity. If you were forced into a cycle of violence where that necessity became a daily occurence, who can fault you for fighting for your life? You did not chose to be there, your opponents most likely did. They lost, you lived. That's all there is to it."

His hands touch your waist and twist softly, you obey his silent demand, your back now facing him.

"Where are you from?"

"The Sump." What the rough mumble you managed to let out.

"Keradon?" The name of your old handler had you grabbing your crossed legs, nodding grimly. "Were you the one who killed the poor bastard?" Another nod, one of your hand picking the towel on your face and throwing it in the basin, rubbing your face afterwards. "He organized fights to the deaths, and you were just a kid, you had no say in this. You're no monster, look behind you and you'll see what a true monster is."

You shiver, exhaustion and anguish eating away at the last of your energy as pain rattled your body, delicately manipulated in Silco's hands.

"You did good tonight. Just like it seems you've done good in the past decade. You're strong, and what you do is good, but do not play the hero."

"You were one, once."

"We both know that time has passed long ago." The last of your wounds are covered and cared for and after feeling a shift behind you, you're suddenly lifted, the blanket from your armchair wrapped around you as Silco carries you up the stairs. Careful as he places you on the bed, he goes to leave afterwards before your hands grab at his, his teal eye widening in confusion as his eyebrow furrows.

"Not to me."

His head tilts in question, his body coming to sit next to your laying form.

"I think you're still a hero." Your eyes find his, blurry gaze drowned in teal currents before being consumed by orange flames as you smile as much as your bruised cheeks allowed you to.

"Everyone gets lost at some point, the most important is that you come back home."

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Taglist: @vicurious28 @midromiell @zorosleftmantit101 @anthy-j-ander @agathasslutt

[winchesterwild78]

The Art of Not Saying "I Love You"

Master List

Characters: Soldier Boy, Ben x Reader, other characters from The Boys

Warnings: Angst, Ben-cause he’s a warning all by himself, language,

A/N: Sometimes I get my best ideas as I’m falling asleep at night. This one came to me last night as I laid in bed. This one is kind of an enemies to lovers. This is the first chapter of a few, not sure how many yet. You never know with me. 😂  This chapter is laying the groundwork for the story, so nothing too bad, yet. 

I do not own the rights to the characters in this story. This does not follow The Boys timeline, and is a work of fiction.

All work is my own, please don’t take it or use it without permission. Reblogs and Likes are always welcome.

Written and edited fast, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

Sitting on the sidewalk with just my phone, wallet and the clothes on my back I cried. My apartment building is now glowing bright orange and red as the firefighters fought the 3 alarm fire. 

My whole world, every possession, was gone in an instant. The fire started a few floors down and of course the sprinkler system was faulty. When we had to evacuate I grabbed what I could carry and took off. 

Sitting on the sidewalk I called the only person I could think of, Butcher. 

“Oi, love. How are you?” A whimper leaving my lips. “Love, what’s wrong?” “It’s gone Butcher, my whole life. Everything is gone.” “What happened?” “There was a fire. The building is gone.” “I’m on my way, love.” 

A few minutes later I looked up and saw Butcher, Annie and Huey climb out of the van. Butcher came over to me and pulled me into his strong arms. 

I collapsed and cried. He lifted me up and carried me back to the van. “Come on love, you’re coming home with us.” I just nodded. 

Walking into the apartment with the three of them I was greeted by Kimiko, Frenchie and MM. At the table I saw Soldier Boy doing a line of coke. 

I tried to look away, but his presence was demanding, even across the room. As he lifted his head and sniffed he made eye contact with me. A little white powder still on his nose. 

I bit my lip and finally looked away when Frenchie called my name. “Mon coeur, let’s get you cleaned up.” I nodded and followed him to the bathroom. 

I could hear Ben’s booming voice through the wall, “I see you picked up another stray, Butcher. Where’d you find this one?” “Shut it, you cunt. She is family and her place just burned down. She’s staying.”

I wasn’t related to Butcher by blood, but he had always been like a protective uncle to me. My boyfriend Tom was intimidated by him at first. So bad he wouldn’t sleep with me. Butcher thought it was hilarious, me not so much. 

Frenchie came back into the bathroom and handed me some clean clothes. An oversized shirt, I was sure was Butchers, and a pair of sweatpants. I thanked him and after he left I jumped in the shower. 

I let the water wash over my body and wash away the ash, smoke and tears as they fell. A few minutes later I was clean, my heart still aching, but I was okay. I survived and the stuff can be replaced. 

Walking into the living room I noticed the apartment was quiet. I found a note on my purse from Butcher.

Y/N,

Ran to get some food. Annie and Huey went shopping for you. Try to relax and we will be back soon. Ben is still there but he’s probably under some woman by now. 

-B

I chuckled at the last line. “Something funny, doll?” The deep voice from behind me sent a shiver down my spine. I turned and was inches from Soldier Boy. His smell, the heat coming from him, was intoxicating. I swallowed hard, “Oh, um, just Butcher.” I bit my lip.

His eyes scanned my body and I felt my heart rate skyrocket. He knew it too, as evident by the smirk on his face. “You okay there doll? You seem a little…flustered.” 

I nodded, “Yeah, this is just my first time meeting you, Soldier Boy.” “Ben, call me Ben.” I nodded, but couldn’t speak. 

He was now inches from me. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. The thoughts swirling in my head and the feeling of his breath on me made me dizzy. 

I tried to step back but stumbled. His strong hands caught me and my body instantly responded to his touch.

I would let him take me right here. God he’s gorgeous and his hands. Damn. What the hell is wrong with me? 

The shrill sound of my phone shattered the silence and pulled me out of my thoughts. My breath hitched as he let go of me with a smirk. 

I grabbed my phone as he sat down at the table to roll and light a joint. I answered the phone. “Hey, Tom. Yeah, I’m okay. No, it’s a total loss. Oh, I’m staying with Butcher and the team. Yes I’m sure. Sure, I can’t wait to see you. Okay, bye.” 

I hung up and saw Ben sitting at the table pretending like he wasn’t listening to my conversation. 

“So, who’s Tom?” He asked, breaking the silence. “Oh, um, he’s my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for a few months now.” He just nodded, but I noticed his jaw got tight. 

About an hour later Butcher, Annie and Huey were back. Annie and Huey bought me some things for the room I was going to be staying in. It was a spare room since Huey and Annie moved in together. 

I was making the bed when I heard a knock on my door. “Hey Y/N, Tom’s here.” Annie smiled. I nodded and walked into the living room. Tom knew everyone except Ben. He was still sitting at the table brooding. 

“Hey baby. I’m so glad you’re okay.” Tom said as he pulled me into a hug and kiss. “You know everyone here except Ben.” I nodded towards the man child pouting in the corner. 

“Ben, this is Tom. Tom, this is Ben, Soldier Boy.” Tom extended his hand to shake Ben’s. Ben put out his hand and took Tom’s hard. He winced in pain and Ben smirked. “Nice to meet you Tom.” Tom pulled his hand back, shaking it, “Yeah, um, you too.” 

I furrowed my brow at Ben. He just smirked. “Come on Tom, let me show you to my room.” I shot Ben a look and I swear I saw pain reflect back.

We walked into my room and I closed the door behind us. As soon as I did, Tom’s lips and hands were on my body. “God I missed you. I’m so glad you’re okay.” I smiled against his lips. 

We fell onto the bed and Tom explored every inch of my body, making me forget about the past 24 hours. 

As we laid in each other’s arms Tom seemed a little off. “Babe, are you okay?” “Yeah, I just don’t know what Ben’s problem is.” “Babe, he’s like that with everyone. Don’t take it personally.” He nodded and pulled me closer to his side. “What do you say to you and I going out tonight. Dinner, dancing, or a movie. Whatever you want.” “I’d love that.” I kissed his lips. 

He started to get up, “Great, I’ll pick you up at about 7.” I was a little confused, “What? You’re not staying?” 

Tom was getting dressed, leaned down, kissed my lips, “No, I have something I have to do before tonight. I’ll be back at 7.” I nodded, feeling a slight pang in my chest. “Okay. See you then.” 

He finished getting dressed and left the room, closing the door behind him. I laid in bed for a few minutes. A little hurt. Tom seemed to swing by for a little bit and then be gone. We always went out or stayed at my place and he never spent the night. Anytime I questioned him he said it was because his roommates were weird about having people over. I understood that, because I had a roommate that didn’t want anyone in the place but us. 

I climbed out of bed, got dressed and went to the living room. “Hey Y/N. I saw Tom left. Everything okay?” Annie asked. “Oh yeah, he had some things to take care of before we go out tonight. Which reminds me, Annie do you think you could take me shopping? I have nothing to wear out tonight.” She smiled and nodded, “Yep I sure can.” 

“Great, I’ll be ready in about 10 minutes.” I said as I went back to my room. Walking down the hallway I walked past Ben’s room. He was in there with the door slightly cracked. I couldn’t help but notice he was standing beside the bed and was grunting. My cheeks flushed red when I realized what he was doing. 

My heart rate picked up and I walked to my room. A few minutes later he appeared at my door with a smirk on his face, “Like what you saw, doll?” My eyes flicked to his, blood filled my cheeks and I rolled my eyes, “No, Ben, and I’d appreciate it if you’d close your door if you’re going to do that. I don’t want to see or hear you.” He stepped closer to me, “Aww why not. I had to endure hearing you and Tom in here earlier. Sounded like he couldn’t satisfy you. Want me to help you out, maybe relieve some of that tension.” 

“What?! Ben, get the hell out of my room. You’re a pig, and for your information Tom can satisfy me.” His smug grin spread on his face and he stepped closer, “You sure about that doll? That man definitely didn’t hit that sweet spot. Want to know how I know?” 

“You’re delusional, Ben.” He stepped even closer, my heart beating wildly in my chest, “I know because I can hear how your heart reacts to me and how it reacted to him. Plus I didn’t hear you cum.” 

My eyes went wide, “What the fuck, Ben! Get out!” I pushed against his firm chest. Trying to push him out of the room. He grabbed my wrist, turned me and pinned me against the wall. His lips ghosting over my neck. “Ben..” My breath quickened and my pulse grew faster.

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear, your lips pleading for me, and your heart beating loudly. Not to mention the arousal I smell between your legs.” I leaned my head back against the wall, moving to the side as his hot breath fell over my neck. I couldn’t help but moan. 

He was right, my body was responding to him, better than it did to Tom. His lips inches from my pulse point, placing a soft kiss to my neck he smirked as I whimpered, then he pulled away. 

He let my hands go and walked out of my room. I stood in a haze. What the hell just happened? Why am I so turned on by him!?

“Y/N, are you ready to go?” I heard Annie call from the hall. I cleared my throat, “Um, yeah.” 

I walked past Ben’s room and saw him sitting on his bed with a joint and a smirk on his face. Bastard. 

Annie and I came back a few hours later with some new clothes for me and I started getting ready to go out with Tom. I still couldn’t shake the feeling I had when Ben touched me. 

I showered and got ready. I wore some jeans, a nice top and some low heeled boots. Annie helped with my hair and make up. 

Walking into the living room where Tom was waiting with Butcher and Huey I smiled softly at him, “Ready to go?” “Yeah, let’s go.” He smiled. “You look beautiful, love.” Butcher said. “Yeah, Y/N. You look great.” Huey agreed. I noticed Ben sitting on the couch, he glanced over then looked away. He cleared his throat and I saw a slight smirk on his lips. 

I grabbed my purse and Tom and I headed out. “So, where to?” “I heard about this really good Italian restaurant a few towns over. I figured there and maybe we could go catch a movie.” I nodded and climbed in his car. 

When I climbed in I thought I smelled perfume, but it was gone just as quickly as I smelled it. There was a woman who walked by as I got in, so I figured it was her. 

He took my hand in his and we drove. Arriving at the restaurant about 30 minutes later, he took me by the hand and led me in. We sat down and ordered food. 

“So how long do you plan on living at Butcher’s?” He asked. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess until I can find another place. Butcher hasn’t put a time limit on it, why?” “I just don’t trust Ben. He seems like he could be a problem.” I touched his hand, “Tom, trust me. He’s not going to be a problem. Besides, I have Butcher and everyone else. They’ll keep him in line.” 

He nodded, “Still, I think the sooner you get out of there the better. Especially for our relationship.” That confused me, “What’s my living arrangement have to do with our relationship? I’m not sleeping with any of them. Why does it matter who my roommates are?” 

“It doesn’t, let’s just drop it and enjoy tonight.” I nodded, but felt something was off. 

Later that night, after dinner, the movie and a few drinks, we stumbled back into the apartment. I was a little tipsy. “Shh we have to be quiet. Everyone’s asleep.” I giggled. “Okay, lightweight. Let’s get to your room.” Tom said as he helped me to my room. As we walked past Ben’s room I noticed the door was closed. My mind instantly went to this afternoon and I felt myself getting aroused. 

As soon as we got to my room I started kissing Tom. The lines between him and Ben in my mind began to blur and I started seeing Ben instead. 

Tom, taking full advantage of my tipsy, aroused state began to undress and so did I. 

“Mmm baby, I need you, please.” I whined as my body ached to be touched. Before too long we were in the middle of yet another session of louder than usual sex. 

Ben laid in his bed, trying to block out the noise. He was getting more pissed with every moan, every squeak of the bed. He growled in frustration as he climbed out of bed. 

I was on top of Tom and his hands cupping my breasts as the bedroom door swung open. “Can you two please shut the fuck up!” I gasped and grabbed the blanket. “Ben, what the fuck! You don’t just barge into someone’s room you fucking asshole.” 

Tom had pushed me off of him at this point, “Ben you need to leave her room, now.” 

Ben smirked, stepping closer, “And what are you going to do about it pretty boy?” I jumped out of the bed with the sheet wrapped around me and got in between them, “Guys, come on. Please. Ben, leave, now! Tom, please let it go.” 

“Hell no! This is what I warned you about. You know what, I’m out of here.” I grabbed his arm, “Tom, no, wait. Let me get my stuff and we can go back to your place.” “Y/N, I already told you we can’t. My roommates don’t like other people there.” 

Ben looked between the two of us and his eyes flashed with something I didn’t quite understand. He left the room without another word. Tom got dressed and left too. 

I sat on my bed, confused, and lonely. Then I was pissed. I was still covered with the sheet and walked to Ben’s room. I knocked. 

“Come in, Y/N.” I pushed open his door and saw him sitting on the bed looking defeated. Venom dripped from my mouth, “Ben, how dare you barge into my room when I’m having sex with my boyfriend. Who the hell do you think you are? How would you like it if I barged in here when you had one of your many women?” 

He smirked, “Oh that would be a dream come true.” He stood and walked over to me, “Why don’t we do that.” I rolled my eyes in disgust, “Fuck you, Ben! For the rest of the time I’m here don’t fucking talk to me or look at me. I’m not your friend, girlfriend or whatever you have twisted in your mind. You stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours.” 

Without another word I turned on my heels and walked back into my room. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was angry, but then regret washed over me. Did I really not want him in my life?

The tears that pricked my eyes fell fast and hot on my face. 

I crawled in my bed and cried. Tom left, he didn’t want me at his place. The more I thought about it the more concerned I got. I’d never been to his house. What was he hiding? 

I shook my head, no stop it! Tom cares about me. This is just all the crap going on with Ben.

A little while later I woke up to the sounds of giggles and moans. I tried to ignore it, but it grew louder. I grabbed my clothes and walked into the kitchen to get a drink. 

I could still hear the sounds and knew it was Ben and his latest flavor of the night. As I walked past his room his door swung open and he stood there with a towel around his waist. His toned chest covered in sweat and his hair messed up. 

I saw the woman in his bed, looking completely fucked out and a pang of jealousy ripped through my body. 

“Want to join us, doll?” I scoffed and walked to my room. 

“Go to hell Ben.” I pushed past him and went back to my room. I need to find a new place soon. I can’t live here with him. He’s such an ass.

The next few days the tension in the apartment was suffocating. I spent most of my time between work and looking for a new place. Tom refused to come over and things were strained between us. My focus right now was finding a new place. 

Ben was in and out, a different girl every day and he drowned the rest of his issues in coke and whiskey. Tonight was no different except he brought home two girls. 

I put my headphones on and tried to drown them out. It worked for the most part. I messaged Tom. Desperately wanting to go out but he said he was busy and wasn’t going to be able to chat tonight. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. 

I finally fell asleep around 2am. My alarm blaring at 7 to wake me up for work. I went to work, sitting at my desk and tried to block out the sounds coming from Ben’s room and the feeling that there was a wedge growing between Tom and I. 

“Hey, Y/N. Do you want to grab some lunch?” My co-worker Connie asked me. “Oh, no. Not today. I brought my lunch and I’m gonna keep looking for a place to live. Thanks though.” She nodded and left.

I sat at my desk looking through listings and nothing seemed to work. It was either too expensive or just right but not in a great neighborhood. 

Ben was out walking, headed towards Vought Tower when he spotted Tom. He scoffed when he saw him. “Pussy.” He mumbled under his breath. Then he saw it. The thing that sent him into a rage, Tom was walking hand in hand with another woman. Ben crossed the street and approached Tom. “Tom, hey man. What’s going on?” Ben stood towering over Tom with his Soldier Boy suit on. The woman with Tom looked starstruck. “Bben, what are you doing here?” Tom stuttered out. “Tom honey, you never told me you knew Soldier Boy.” 

Ben smiled at her, “Well hello there doll, you can call me Ben. So, how do you know our boy Tom here?” “I’m Vicky, his wife. It’s so nice to meet you.” 

Ben made eye contact with Tom, “Oh, I didn’t know you were married. It’s so nice to meet you too Vicky. How long have y'all been married?” “Yesterday was our 10th anniversary.” Ben scoffed, “10 years, wow. Any rugrats?” Tom looked pale. Ben was seething with anger.

“Yeah, we have a little boy who is 5 and (she placed her hand on her belly) we have another one on the way.” Ben’s jaw clenched, “Wow, congratulations. Well let me let you two get back to whatever you were doing. It was nice meeting you, and I’ll see you later Tom.” 

As Ben walked away his heart broke for me, but he was full of anger. How the hell was he going to tell me about this?

“Hey, Ben, wait up a sec.” Ben heard Tom. “Ben, please don’t tell Y/N. This would break her heart.” “You expect me to keep this from her? That you’re married and have 2 fucking kids?! Fuck you! You tell her or I will.” Tom knew Ben was serious. “Fine, I’ll tell her.” Tom relented. Ben got inches from him, “You better or I will.” 

With that Ben was gone. The weight of what he just found hanging on him. Would you believe him or dismiss him? He sighed heavily. He knew what he had to do. Fuck Tom.  

Later that night the apartment was quiet. You got home from work and everyone was gone, except for Ben. He was sitting on his bed when you walked past. 

You half expected to see a woman laying in the bed, but he was alone. He looked sober too. I walked to my room, removed my shoes. 

Ben stood at my door for a second and cleared his throat. I looked up at him and saw his normally hard, stoic eyes soft and sad. “Hey.” He said softly. “Ben, what can I help you with?” “I was hoping we could talk.” I walked around the room and started packing my stuff.

“I don’t see how talking is going to make a difference. Besides, I'll be out of your way in a few minutes.” His eyes went wide, “What? Did you find a place?” I shook my head, “No, I’m going to stay in a hotel. That way we can stay clear of each other. I can’t keep living like this, Ben. You’re obviously not happy with me being here and Tom won’t come visit me since that night you barged in here.” 

Ben’s heart clenched in his chest. Tom hadn’t told you yet. Ben reached his hand out and cupped my face, “Y/N, please don’t go. I have to tell you something.” I leaned into his touch, my heart raced in my chest. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I ran into Tom today. He was with someone.” I looked at Ben. His voice was soft and calm, but tinged with sadness. “What? Who?” “He was with his wife. They have a 5 year old son and she’s pregnant.” 

I gasped, “What?! Ben, that’s not funny. Why would you say that?” “Doll it’s true. Her name is Vicky and they’ve been married 10 years.” 

I stumbled backwards, “I…I’ve got to go.” I grabbed my stuff and left. The tears fell fast and heavy. Was he telling the truth? What reason would he possibly have to lie to me? Fuck! 

I checked into my hotel and turned off my phone and just cried. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t expecting a wife and children. I just needed to figure out how to handle this and of course a place to live. 

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[bokutosbabe]

for your new event may i suggest chigiri and for the emojis i pick 🫐 🍰

of course!

a chigiri hyoma blueberry cake slice :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'll build a wall

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — chigiri hyoma x gn! reader, gn! reader, chigiri is a little shit, very anxious reader, lowkey they hate each other for a bit, cuddling, open ending ( but it is meant to be happy :) )

♡ synopsis — you wouldn't say you hate chigiri hyoma...you just hated you had to share a living space with him

You didn’t know what was worse—the fact that you’d been paired with Chigiri Hyoma for the marriage simulation program or the fact that he seemed so unbothered about it.

While you were stressing over the details, pacing back and forth with the program’s rules in hand, he leaned against the doorframe of your shared apartment, arms crossed, wearing a faintly amused expression.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, his soft voice carrying an easy confidence that only made you feel more flustered.

“I’m not overthinking anything!” you shot back. “This is a month-long program. We have to work together, pretend we’re married, and follow all these rules. It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

Chigiri raised an eyebrow. “It’s fake. It’s not that deep.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered. “You’re not the one who has to deal with you.”

That earned you a small smirk. “I could say the same thing.”

You two hadn't even gotten the chance to look around the rest of the apartment yet.

What else could go wrong?

“Are you kidding me?”

Your voice echoed in the small bedroom as you stared at the lone bed sitting innocently in the center of the room. It wasn’t even a queen—it was a full-sized bed, barely big enough for two people to sleep without constantly bumping into each other.

Chigiri stood beside you, one hand resting on the doorframe as he tilted his head, examining the room. “Guess they weren’t joking about fostering intimacy,” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

“This can’t be real,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. You spun around to face him, pointing at the bed like it had personally offended you. “There’s no way we’re sharing that.”

Chigiri raised an eyebrow, his expression unbothered as usual. “Do you see another option? Unless you’re volunteering to sleep on the floor.”

You shot him a glare. “Why don’t you sleep on the floor?”

He smirked faintly. “I don’t think that’s what the program had in mind. Besides, it’s just sleeping. Don’t tell me you’re scared of cooties or something.”

Your face burned. “I’m not scared of anything! I just think it’s… inappropriate.”

“We’re pretending to be married,” he pointed out. “This isn’t exactly the time to be hung up on personal space.”

You crossed your arms, still glaring at the bed like you could will it to magically split in two. “Fine. But you stay on your side, and I mean it.”

Chigiri held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, boss.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of unpacking and adjusting to the reality of your shared living situation. The apartment was small but cozy, with a kitchenette, a tiny dining area, and a living room that doubled as a study space.

Chigiri moved through it all with the same effortless grace he always seemed to have, while you tried your best not to let his calm demeanor get under your skin.

By the time night rolled around, you were too tired to argue anymore.

You stood awkwardly by the bed, clutching a spare blanket you’d found in the closet. “Okay, so… I’ll take this side, and you take that side. And no crossing the line.”

“What line?” Chigiri asked, clearly amused.

You grabbed a pillow and placed it lengthwise down the middle of the bed. “This line.”

He chuckled softly. “Alright, if it makes you feel better.”

The first night was… tense.

You lay on your side of the bed, clutching the blanket like it was your last line of defense. Chigiri was on the opposite side, facing away from you, his breathing steady and even.

You tried to relax, but the awareness of his presence was impossible to ignore. The bed wasn’t big enough to create a proper distance, and every shift he made sent a ripple through the mattress.

“Relax,” he said suddenly, his voice low in the dark. “You’re not going to fall off the edge.”

“I’m not tense,” you lied.

“Sure,” he said, a hint of laughter in his tone. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” you muttered, closing your eyes and willing sleep to come quickly.

The next morning, you woke up to the unfamiliar sensation of warmth.

Blinking groggily, you realized with a start that you were no longer on your side of the bed. Somehow, during the night, you had shifted closer to the middle—and so had Chigiri.

Your face was inches away from his, his soft, even breathing brushing against your cheek. One of his arms was draped casually over your waist, and his hair, always silky and perfectly styled, was slightly mussed from sleep.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

How did this happen?

You froze, unsure of what to do. If you moved, you’d wake him up. If you stayed still, you’d have to endure the way your cheeks burned as you became increasingly aware of how close you were.

Before you could make a decision, Chigiri stirred, his eyelashes fluttering as he slowly opened his eyes.

For a moment, he looked at you, his expression soft with lingering sleep. Then his eyes widened slightly, and he pulled back, sitting up with a startled look.

“Uh… morning,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Morning,” you said, your voice higher than usual.

There was a long, awkward pause as you both avoided each other’s eyes.

“I guess we, uh, move a lot in our sleep,” he said finally, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, must be,” you said quickly, sitting up and throwing the blanket off yourself. “Anyway, let’s forget this ever happened.”

Chigiri gave a small smile, his usual composure returning. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

But as you went about your morning routine, you couldn’t shake the memory of how natural it had felt—waking up next to him, the warmth of his arm around you. And from the way Chigiri glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking, you had a feeling he was thinking the same thing.

From that morning onward, the dynamic between you began to shift. There was a newfound warmth in Chigiri’s actions—a softening of the sharp edges you had initially bristled against.

And as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself no longer dreading the nights.

You still started on opposite sides of the bed, but more often than not, you’d wake up tangled together, neither of you pulling away.

By the end of the simulation, the lines between what was fake and what was real had blurred beyond recognition. And when Chigiri looked at you during the final presentation, his gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite name, you realized you didn’t want it to end.

“I learned that sometimes, the best partnerships come from the most unexpected places,” he said, his voice steady but soft. “And that trust is built, not given—but when it’s there, it’s worth everything.”

His words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. And as you left the program hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

this was such a late night write session

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[4rlekino]

omg giving turbo!ken a titjob????!?!?!!!??!!!! and reader has pierced tits 😝😝(just got my titties pierced yesterday)

➤ re: CONGRATS ON UR TITS!! i hope they're healing nicelyy. im rlly so sorry for getting to this late. i wanted to make this proper even as a lil drabble bc i love ur mind for this

lose ur cool ' takakura "okarun" ken

cws. 18+ NSFW MDNI. okarun x fem!reader. aged up characters. human to turbo ken. established relationship. porn w/ some plot ig. piercings (nipples, tongue). groping. tiddy fucking/boobjob. use of babe/baby. 1.2k words. no beta we die like men.

his hands were still fidgeting with the hem of your tank top as he sat behind you, his fingers trembling a little. he's still looking down at the imprint of the barbells under the fabric, hoping you wouldn't feel the heavy gaze he's had on them ever since he arrived at the front door.

for the past hour, ken had been constantly tearing his eyes away from the piercings sticking up underneath your shirt to focus on your face. he hated feeling like a pervert, he genuinely wasn't that kind of guy, but it was you doing it on purpose. everything from pressing your arms together to emphasize your cleavage, to looking back at him as you climbed the stairs to let him see your tits bounce.

ken wasn't going to last long unless he addressed what you wanted him to give attention to.

"so, um... when'd you get the idea for these?" his hands had just barely gone under the hem, limiting themselves to the skin of your stomach.

"a couple weeks ago," you said with a slight smirk. its definitely been a little more than that. ken just hadn't the mind to notice until now.

lightly, his breath brushes up against your neck. he adjusts the way he sits behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his back in your pillows while you leaned back into his chest.

he's still staring, unable to look away since questions kept buzzing into his mind. "did they... hurt?"

"nah," you jest.

"r-really? they look like they do..." he muttered, the implications of him staring hitting a second after. "i mean, 'cause it's a piercing, y'know? needles, and uh, all that."

you chuckled and adjust your top by the straps, your tits bouncing with the slight lift. "maybe a lil' bit before, but it's all good now."

you don't see it, but your boyfriend squeezes his eyes shut as he grumbles, frustrated with what he knows is purposeful teasing. he wanted to ask if your shirt needed to be this tight but he bit his tongue.

"ken, baby, what's wrong? i promise they're not as bad as they look." you said, leaning back against him some more to get comfy. your hand reaches up the side of his face, pushing him close until your lips press to his cheek. "you don't like 'em?"

ken flushes, his skin growing feverish to your affection. then his throat suddenly dries and his eyes dart around, trying to look anywhere but there as he's stammering out a response.

"they're—" he tears his eyes away again. "they're alright, it's just—"

"you don't think it looks good on me?" you jut your lips out in a slight pout.

"i didn't say that..."

"then just tell me," you coaxed. your hands smooth over his, and flinch a little when the pads of your fingers smooth over the back of his hands before gently grasping, guiding them upwards until they graze the underside of your chest.

"hey, c-come on. you already know what i think of it," ken mumbles, trying his best to be still respectful, even if your tits were resting in his palm. "it's honestly..."

his words trail off when you guide him to cup your breasts, encouraging him to touch you more. as you turn your head, your lips graze his soft jawline and ghost over the shape.

"ken," you spoke softly, still trying to coax the words out of him.

you lower your hands and he gives you an experimental squeeze, kneading the soft mounds in his hand with building confidence. in response, you moaned, the sound both a natural reaction and a deliberate act.

your breath hitches when he squeezes you again, this time a little harder as his body twitches behind you.

"...it's fucking hot." he says it low and rough, his breath warmly fanning the side of your neck.

another gasp slips past your lips when his palms feel colder against your skin, his skin now greyer when you finally register the change in his voice. you could now feel the slight growth of his body behind you, a symptom of his yōkai transformation.

his hands grope your tits with much more need. ken was still a little wary of your semi-fresh piercing, but he pulls the hem of your top up to grope you skin to skin.

"you're gonna piss me off one day, babe." he drawls.

ken doesn't know if he should thank who or what put this into your head, but he knew no one else had anything to do with this other than you, because your pretty little head was just full of nasty ideas.

riling him up — turning him on — was just your thing. the human side of him couldn't handle you sometimes. you were just too much, too hot, too... intoxicating. it was like a siren was pulling that fervent side out, the desires somehow manifesting that form.

"you just love showing off, huh?" he prods. "pushin' your tits up, makin' them bounce in my face? you're really asking for it."

by now, his strength lets him switch your positions easily. he was straddled over you, close to your chest, thrusting his dick between your tits with your mouth open and your tongue stuck out to receive the tip. the wet muscle was previously pierced as well, the metal ball shining in the center like the third piece to a trio with the two piercings through your nipples.

you keep your hands to your tits, pressing them together tightly as your cleavage was slicked with spit. ken's hands were over yours, the romantic in him still making its way out even as he's doing something as dirty as fucking your breasts.

he mumbles a few words under his breath, he sound of his voice resonating deeply in his throat and making it unintelligible.

"harder, ken." you coaxed, putting on your best 'fuck me' face. "think i look pretty like this?"

his eyes roll from the pleasure, speaking with the hem of his shirt caught between his teeth. "mhm... beautiful, gorgeous thing." a moan slips out and he wishes he could come down and kiss you. "you don't know what you're doin' to me, i swear."

you peek up at him through your lashes, the praise making you giggle and smile. you gather a little more spit on your tongue and let it drip down into your cleavage, the dallop landing on his tip and adding it to the wetness.

he sucked in a sharp breath before slowing his pace, savoring the feel of your slicked skin around him.

"fuck, babe," he groans. his shirt falls from his teeth and he tilts his head back, the next words catching in his throat when he finishes all over you.

the milky white spurts paint your chest as he continues to rut into your cleavage, the desperate urge still tiring itself out as ken's form gradually depletes, his skin gaining its warmth and his hair receding to its cropped, curly locks.

"shit..." he hisses, sensitive but still slowly thrusting his dick between your tits, watching himself fuck his cum into your cleavage until he's rode out his high.

[butchdiaz]

tagged by @iinryer to do a 2024 fic roundup but i'm adding my videos in too because. uh. its fun to look back! and i want to!

MARCH

american teenager (36s)

my first ever commission! for my best friend bia! to this day i hear do what you want (do more!) everytime i listen to this song.

APRIL

arms (1:02)

this was for seti. and it hurt.

good luck babe! (1:11)

literally never felt euphoria the same since the week of bi buck when i made this. changed the timeline. (although i was so euphoric and excited to post that i cropped in a rush and left a little white line in one of the shots and it pisses me off massively to this day. yes im a virgo thanks for asking)

to open up my arms and give it all to you (2.5k)

my little buck coming out to chris fic with hints of buddie <3 bi buck got me writing again after months of literal Nothing. god bless

one of your girls (3:09)

kirby's vision went OFF. so proud of this one like. its gotta be one of my favs and i feel like it became a bit of a butchdiaz classic which makes me so happy :D

MAY

kill her freak out (1:33)

this video is my little baby. ohhh samia. ouaagh eddie.

scared of my guitar (2:23)

shoutout to the way the dialogue syncs up in this one. rly satisfying to me hehehe. honestly didn't think i'd like this one as much as i do but she hits hard

promise (1:15)

love when people commission me to edit songs im already currently obsessing over yay!!!!!

JUNE

happy to be here (2:16)

julien baker. eddie diaz. aka abby had a mental breakdown making this one.

closed hands, full of friends (45s)

this was my first time editing a song i had Never heard beforehand! 3 cheers for finding new music!!

JULY

l'amour de ma vie (3:26)

ok not to toot my own horn but. this one is good. i feel like i really told a story u know. and about now is when i started to play around with fun/more intricate text ooh ooooh

a burning hill (1:01)

this prompt was designed in a lab to kill me specifically. i wanted to do the whole song originally but i like. could not go on.

my ego dies at the end (2:49)

i reallyyyy like this one. long edits my beloved! i love to build to something. i rewatch this one often tbh. jensen mcrae is everythinggg

AUGUST

north star (2:16)

again, had never heard this song b4 i got this prompt and it got me obsessed with this searows album. this edit makes me feel all soft. rly loved incorporating fleabag into it bc like. fleabag for life. shoutout summerofbuddie for the inspo

feels like (58s)

this song has been on my buddie playlist(s) forever so i was So excited to get this prompt. it was so fun to make something. not depressing and just like. fluffy. fun fact i hand drew all the hearts for this in ps and they were such a pain to work with but i really love how it turned out cause i'd never done anything like that before :')

pink balloon (2:29)

finally made a proper buck amv. after so many eddie ones it was actually nice to switch it up. felt re-inspired! also always so inspired by samia ugh. i am an eddiegirl literally to my bones tho so this was both v hard and v fun to make.

SEPTEMBER

"i want a divorce" / "it was a date" (2:19)

the buckshannon parallels ouuugughhh. this was one of those ones that haunted me so persistently i literally was forced to make it. saw hanna's post and then blacked out and i was posting this.

had a feeling i could be someone (3k)

+

leave tonight or live and die this way (1.1k)

dyke buddie!!!!!!!! these fics are sooooo near and dear to my heart. i love to make everyone wlw! i love to project my butchness onto my fav characters! wrote these so fast (for me) like writing has Never flown out of me like that. i was possessed by the spirit of lesbianism. and. GOD. the response to these fics also makes me want to cry daily. the beautiful art that was created?????? for me and my little fic?????????? i actually can't believe it i love you guys so much. lesbians forever and ever and ever.

did it to myself (1:11)

another one of my favs. i think it slaps so hard tbh. i tried a lot of new stuff and it was so FUN. orla's music is so much fun to edit to i need to do another one of her songs asap.

afraid of heights (2:46)

boygenius wrote this for my friend buck buckley. got entirely consumed by this one. thank u han for being my buckafraidofheights warrior for life <3

headlock (2:23)

i love buck but i remember coming back to making an eddie amv and breathing a sigh of relief. i just Get him. its so easy. this one's underrated i think oop it kinda slaps

OCTOBER

savior complex (3:16)

this one was a rly good challenge and idek why. super happy with how it turned out though i like watching it back

NOVEMBER

funeral bell (2:54)

the buck thesis statement. to me. and such a crazy unique process. loved working w kaitlin on this one and sending her 10 million drafts (she rly got a behind the scenes tour yall and it was not pretty). this was an absolute BEAST to make despite it not even being that complicated. i think i just cared so much about making it perfect for my dear friend who trusted me with her visions and inspiration and that made it all the more special!

you get your dreams for free (14.8k)

drunk cuddling!!!!!!!! my longest fic i've posted to date and i fully thought i was never gonna finish it. i abandoned this last YEAR but im SO glad i came back to it and most of the reason for that is because of the absolutely lovely responses to my earlier fics this year <3 literally hilarious to me that i originally wanted to post this on halloween 2023. abby. abby no.

surrender my heart! (1:30)

post-confessions euphoria + a carly rae jepsen prompt? i was literally in heaven. SURRENDER UR HEART EDDIEEEEEEEEE

DECEMBER

every place leads back to your place (2.1k)

music inspires me soooo much (looks up at this post. no way right.) so i absolutely loved writing based off a song! and a chappell song nonetheless!! so fun to twist a breakup song around to fit Them. i particularly love the kiss in this one <3

oldie's station (3:17)

phew we're almost there! this one is recent but lowkey it feels like another classic to me already. i really really like it. making it felt like cooking a three course meal and watching it kinda feels like eating one :D (thank god) (i spent so many hours in that kitchen)

letter to god (1974) (2:27)

+

letter to god (1983) (1:52)

putting these together bc they are sister songs and sister videos. first time in my life i've worked on two videos at once. it was fun because they kind of grew together and influenced each other very directly. not fun because i ran out of space and my laptop crashed. several times. these felt rly indulgent and raw. kind of shocking to me how perfect both songs feel for both of them. had a lot of fun messing with the voice/video filters to try and place these in their respective eras bc im obsessed with that aspect of the songs. halsey's artistry is crazy yall if u havent listened to her newest album GO. NOW.

the rush of slumber party kissing (3.2k)

posted this literally yesterday lol. also my first time writing smut. somehow. scary! but i did giggle all the way through writing this tbh. when buddie reveal their true nature as silly teenage girls >>>>>>>>>>

SPECIAL SHOUTOUT

fleabag au wip, who saw the light of day again this year. she could be finished in six months or six more years, but she Will be finished. im determined!

<3

ok if u read all that uh. wow congrats fhdhhdh im gonna get sappy for JUST A SEC now cause uh. im actually blown away by the support and love and appreciation this fandom has shown me this past year. you guys have given me so much confidence in my skills as both an editor and a writer and you also quite literally helped me pay my rent. by making videos about gay firefighters. its actually kind of mind blowing to me how lucky i am and i never want to take that for granted <3

to anyone who has commissioned me, or sent me a prompt, or left a comment on a fic, or a tag on a video, or sent me a kind ask, or subscribed to me, or followed me, or reblogged anything of mine this year: thank you.

im so grateful for this little community and all the friends and connections i have made through our collective insanity over a procedural drama on abc (neé fox). yall rock so hard.

<3

tagging @userbuddie @chronicowboy @confessionseddie @try-set-me-on-fire @userautumn @lovelettered @exhuastedpigeon @sibylsleaves @saryasy @team-118 @lemmeaskthedevil @eddiebabygirldiaz if u wanna do any sort of yearly roundup!

[orleans-jester]

“I am feeling pretty jolly,” Figaro admitted. Seeing their father was bittersweet but there was a lot of good to take away from that. He was watching over them. And he was proud. The ghosts of their Merry Men friends stuck around. There wasn’t much reason to not be jolly.

“I think I’d make a sick Larry,” Figaro hummed as they careened the bus down the mountain road. “Hey Iorek, you wanna be Gary?”

The bear let out a sound that sounded half-whine, half yawn. Figaro looked over their shoulder at him.

“Mrs. Puff? You want to be Mrs goddamn Puff?” They said, with wide eyes. “Damn. I didn’t know you wanted to go for sex appeal. Let’s fuckin do it.”

They nodded, not having much of an opinion either way of whether Livvy was still going to be active in their lives or not. “Hey, she’s alive though, that’s something,” They said. Not a lot of people were these days. “So there’s a chance that you’ll be able to see her again.”

Looking on the bright side wasn’t always their forte but when it came to Will? Goddamn, they really wanted him to be happy. Even if it was with someone like Livvy. That girl had made him smile, while also being frustrating at the same time. Messy - but at least he was showing his teeth.

“You’re right about that, I miss meeting people,” Figaro said, eyes on the road, their voice actually being serious. “Nothing against our friends obviously but - yeah. Variety in the spice of life and we’re not getting that. I’m growing sick of paprika, I want some chile.”

They didn’t mean this romantically, obviously, but they were a social being. There was nothing shy about Figaro. They’d just pop in and make themselves at home, that’s how they made a lot of their friends. And either they gott rejected, or they were invited in as if they had always been there. Meeting Flotsam, as if they had been instant best friends the moment that they met. The high school cafeteria table where they sat, despite not really talking to Arthur and Lance, boom, as if they had been sitting together since kindergarden. And then inviting Willem over to live with them despite only having spoken for a couple of days. They tested that chemistry with a lot of people. And now there wasn’t anyone to pop up on.

Figaro agreed though. Willem did need a certain kind of chaos in his life. “Maybe she’ll surprise ya one day,” They offered. Granted, it seemed HIGHLY unlikely that Delta was ever going to invite in someone like Livvy, a human that didn’t offer that much to her at all. Not without killing her or something similar. But regardless. Stranger things have happened.

They chuckled as they heard Willem sing and joined in with the tune. “-in the closet, that’s Hansel, he’s a bit shy so don’t scream too much!”

They parked up by the playground and looked out the windshield at the building. This area didn’t get much upkeep in Feral. Willem was the only one who really ever came to it. Old blood - once a bright red but now a brick-brown, blended into the walls, and a few bodies still lay around, decomposing. Figaro grabbed the Dragon-Fruit Little Tree air freshener from the mirror and wrapped it around their wrist. “Man, I hate the smell of the dead in the morning,” They sighed.

The bodies didn’t smell too much. It was mostly just bones and a bit of ooze. Being left out in the elements like the sun and the rain definitely had their effects. But they took a big whiff of the air freshener before daring to step outside.

It was still dark, the sky only lightening slightly, as they approached the building. It seemed so desolate. It didn’t need the Frank and Delta treatment to be spooky. “Why am I getting REC vibes? Quarantine? I wish I had a machete.”

That’s when they spotted something glistening. “Oh hey, a dead cop. Oooooh, hey, a dead cop’s gun!” They said, going towards it and took it out of the corpse’s fingerbones. “Now we’re going Resident Evil, baby. Let’s go hang out with some cool dolls.”

He even obliged. "Oh person, my person. I love you, my person. Oh jolly person." He laughed as he watched Smalls literally bounce their way back to the bus because of course they would.

Maybe Willem wasn't completely disappointed either that he wasn't going to visit the dolls alone. It had always been an alone activity and it felt nice to get to share that. Maybe it wouldn't feel so sad this way? It always felt sad even though the dolls themselves made him happy. Willem liked their sappy side. It made him feel less alien like his feelings were out of place. He was going to soak it up while the mood was there.

"You and that SpongeBob." He laughed remembering some swimwear they once wore on vacation as he finished up rubbing baby wipes on his face. Good times. "Larry's all yours."

He kept looking up into the mirror worried he'd missed something but finally settled back into his seat for the ride. A casual glance up here or there would prove he still had it in his sort-slightly vain pirate head anyway.

"Okay cool...and riiiiiight." The memory actually made him laugh. "Me either." He was hardly on Livy's radar until he tried to be. He didn't even want to be at first.

So, he'd toss out a "turn here" and a "right" or "go left at the stop" off and on just in case Figaro wasn't sure along the way.

Still, in came a question that maybe he should have been ready for but wasn't.

"Nah. Not since I last mentioned...." His voice hung like he wanted to say more. It came out sadder than he meant for it to. He didn't mean to be so transparent.

It was a simple question with a simple answer. Sure. But it was easy to jump to the next questions. Did he want to hear from her? Did his tone answer that question without having to ask it of himself? Did he still know it was probably for the better? Yeah. Did he miss her anyway? Fuck yeah.

So, was he going to pirate up and admit it even though he didn't have to?

"Aye, I miss her. I really messed that one up, Smalls. I know she was a prat but fuck it all. Who's not?"

To ward off his uncomfortable feeling he looked in the mirror again and messed with his hair. Her prattiness just came so close to aligning so perfectly with his it was hard not to think about it when nothing else filled the void.

"Or maybe I'm just lonely? I don't know. Because there's just so many people in Feral to meet." He said sarcastically. "Prattiness is better than loneliness? I admit I was feeling pretty shitty till Geppetto showed up."

He was surrounded by personalities in Funkytown so obviously it was romantic connection, a heart string he longed for.

"Yes, I know we can leave now." He interjected as if cutting off the first obvious he could think of to his own argument. "But my dolls. My work. I don't know. I need- I need- I need a homebody who likes adventures too. Somebody who gets it. I still miss her chaos. I'm a person who needs a certain amount of chaos, Smalls."

He shrugged because he didn't know how to explain that was the one thing he couldn't quite get through to Livy not that Smalls even asked for any of this. Hell, he couldn't even manage to get it through Piper's head. No one took him seriously. Crazy he could handle. A shady past he could handle. He was down for colorful. Heck, that's what he wanted just not at the expense of his dolls. Someone had to just get it. Get Funkytown. How to find that person? He wasn't sure. Maybe they didn't exist. Maybe he wasn't meant to be taken seriously and that thought just broke his heart as they drove.

He pointed at a stop sign. "To the left."

He half laughed when he realized what he said and said it a couple more times like the song, "To the left, to the left." Then went- "No-no. Not left there. I was just singing." Then had to start laughing.

"It's that complex up there. The building sort of by the playground."

[skvaderarts]

I bet Viktor's birthday gets overshadowed during the holidays every year, so hear's a fic about a time that didn't happen. Happy Birthday, Viktor!

Seasonally Affected:

Summary: Word Count 5K

Upon returning to the lab after a few days off for the holidays, Jayce realizes that Viktor never left and missed the festivities. Horrified by this revelation, he resolves to give him a taste of the holiday he spent alone for the sake of progressing their shared dream of bringing Hextech to the masses. And there's only one way he knows how to do that: A birthday celebration he'll never forget.

Set later the same year that they met, I thought it would be fun to explore a time when they were still figuring everything out and developing some of the bad and good habits they would carry with them over the years. This is actually my first Arcane fic so hello Jayvik community!

Seasonally Affected

Note: A quick thank you to Moss (WickedCrescent) on Bluesky for giving me the inspiration for this. I didn’t think my first-ever Arcane fanfic would be a Christmas/birthday one-shot, but here we are! Sorry it’s arriving after the holiday. Happy birthday, Viktor!

—

The roads that led to upper Piltover had glazed over days ago, ice and snow settling into the cobbled streets and blanketing every surface available with a sturdy coating of sparkling white. Everything was frosted over from the highest windows to the roofs at the lower edges of the district. A chill clung to the wind. Just cold enough to cause anyone who ventured outside to second guess their reasons for doing so, but not to stop them entirely.

Cold had been a touchy subject for Jayce for years now. Ever since that day in the snowy mountains with his mother, he’d quaked just that little bit harder in the face of winter’s grip. But, in that same breath, he acknowledged the formative effect that it had on his life. What it had nearly taken from him it had returned in different ways. 

The chill of cold air made his skin tingle all the more, but it also reminded him of the day he’d witnessed magic with his very own eyes. The day he’d received a tantalizing glimpse into the Arcane. The day an unknown stranger possessing power and gifts too vast for his mind to comprehend had materialized from the storm itself and whisked his mother and him to safety. Not a single word had been exchanged between them, and yet, he’d given the young boy everything. The rune that he now wore around his wrist serving as his compass, his life’s motivation and calling, and more recently, someone he dared call a friend. And a friend who shared that same passion for the potential good their shared dream could do.

He wouldn’t complain about the cold. Not now. Not when it had brought such warmth into his life.

Slipping through the front door of the main building to the campus, he was greeted with an array of holiday decorations. Brillant silvers and blues, reds and golds adorned the walls, windows, and even the ceiling as banners draped down from above and helped contribute a festive flare to the already ornate building. He had to be one of the only people there, especially at such a late hour. They’d officially closed the place to the public over the holiday, so people would start to filter back in during the next day or so. It was open to faculty, but few were taking up the opportunity to work over the holidays. 

Most people were at home with their friends and families, spending time with their loved ones. Opening gifts with their children and making treasured memories to look back on later. Something he’d just done himself, actually. But before he settled in for more holiday fun, there was something he needed to take care of. Something that had been bugging him ever since he’d left two days prior. He would grab a few things and then return home to run a few experiments in his downtime between the seasons' festivities. Nothing too illegal and certainly not dangerous. Then his mind could relax. 

Maybe. Probably not.

The office they currently shared was temporary. Renovations were underway to provide something more… reinforced for some of their more delicate experiments. So in the meantime, they’d been focusing on medium-scale projects and prototypes and getting their ideas down on paper. Having a concrete base to work with. Something that sounded dull on paper but they both genuinely enjoyed it. The room might be small, but it worked, and that was all that mattered for their purposes.

That being said, the building had a nice view of the city and the bay. Of the Undercity. The place where his office mate hailed from. The place that drove him towards their shared dream of progress and helping the downtrodden. A place so inhospitable to outsiders that he’d stuck out like a sore thumb the one time he’d ventured down there. They’d needed materials from there since his last trip, but he’d been talked out of going himself. His partner insisted he go instead. That he knew the place better. And he believed him but he just…

He hoped they could do something to help sooner rather than later. If the little taste of the place he’d received during his singular trip below was any inkling of the general quality of life down there, then it was a land rife with a need for the benefits of Hextech.

Everything seemed to keep pulling him in a thousand different directions, so many of which seemed to be headed way from what they hoped to accomplish together. He felt more popular than ever these days. Ever since the Distinguished Innovators Competition a few months back, they’d been inundated with requests for meetings and offers for deals of various sorts with seemingly every person who was of even marginal importance in Piltover. Well, Jayce had been, to be more specific. He’d observed that the general public was as eager to recognize the existence of his newfound partner as said partner was about speaking publicly again. Jayce had barely kept it together, but at least he’d been able to speak…

For all his strengths, he’d found Viktor’s one weakness. Public speaking.

They’d gotten a few words out of him, but they’d had to turn up the microphone initially to be able to hear him. The sudden volume adjustment had startled him more, stunning him for a moment before he’d shaken off the nerves and finished his portion of the speech. He’d then handed the microphone back to Jayce with grace and proceeded to conceal his eternal screaming for the rest of the presentation, something he’d done an admirable job at. From a distance, at least.

Jayce hoped that he’d be able to help him with that in the coming year. He was just better at explaining certain things than he was, and his contributions wouldn’t be ignored. Not if he had anything to say about it. He might’ve come up with the concept of Hextech, but it wouldn’t exist without both of them. They were its parents in a sense. Jayce had been stumped for a while before Viktor had come along, and he’d cracked it so fast. Almost as though it were something they’d been destined to create together. Something they needed to bring to fruition with their combined passion for innovation and prosperity. A sense of responsibility for others so tangible that they could not deny it. They had the answers within their grasp. Now they only needed to work out the details.

Approaching the door Jayce unlocked it and pushed it open. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light as he stepped in and closed the door, but as soon as they did, the first thing he noticed was the chalkboard. It spanned the back wall on one side of the room. The side of the room that had ended up being Viktor’s. 

It was full. Spiraling lines and complex diagrams. Algorithms and equations that would stump some of the greatest mathematicians of their time containing symbols both conventional and magical that would cause the average bystander to blank. Several sections were circled in different colors of chalk with lines denoting their importance. A few were linked together by rows of lines in an attempt to reconcile what importance they might have to the system as it stood as a whole. It was as intriguing to behold as it had to be time-consuming to work out.

It seemed that the same thing that had been keeping him up at night had been on Viktor’s mind, too.

Turning to face the built-in desk at the far side of the room, Jayce was greeted with a sight he half expected to see after being greeted by that chalkboard but still slightly hoped he wouldn’t. Viktor was slumped over the desk, still working something out and seemingly just out of it enough to have not noticed that he’d entered the room. Initially. He straightened up the instant that he started to make his way over to that side of the room, taking the arm he’d been sleeping on and using it to prop himself up before rubbing his face with both of his hands and then running them back through his hair, visibly trying to shake off his lack of sleep. He’d probably just dozed off not that long ago.

“Jayce. I didn’t notice you came in. Your holiday was pleasant, I presume?”

He certainly sounded like a man who’d been asleep at his desk, that was for certain. Slightly groggy but otherwise himself. Perhaps that was because he always seemed to be that way these days; costing on an insufficient amount of sleep. Wiling away the hours working on some new advancement. And it showed. The breakneck pace that Hextech was advancing at was something that no one person could ever hope to achieve alone. Not with any sense of realism. But together they’d made great progress. Jayce just couldn't hope but notice that a good portion of that progress came at the expense of his partner’s sleep. No matter how early he came in Viktor always beat him there. And he was starting to come to the sobering realization that was because he never went home.

Even over the holidays.

“It’s been great so far. You should swing by. I’m sure my mom would love to see you.” Jayce responded, not immediately leading into the elephant in the room. He would ask him about the equation later unless he went there first. But the offer was genuine, just like everything else about him. About both of them. He’d love to talk him into coming over and spending a little time away from it all, even if it was something they both loved so dearly. “You… haven’t been here the entire time, have you?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, adjusting his neck by tilting it from side to side. He blinked slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. “There was so much to be done.”

It was the truth, plain and simple. And yet.

“It’s late. Maybe get some rest and come back tomorrow?” Jayce said with a pleasant air that disguised his growing concern for his friend’s lack of meaningful sleep. He leaned against the desk next to him, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder as he spoke just that little bit softer. “The deadline for the reports is still a while off. We have plenty of time. And I know that chair has to feel harder than the floor right about now.”

“It has for a while now, yes,” Viktor admitted, splitting his attention between trying to speak with him and trying to recall what he’d been working on before he’d dozed off. He wasn’t going to argue against that point. Sometimes it felt like he entered a sort of fugue state sometimes when he started crunching numbers. Time just stopped becoming a factor, even if he could feel the passage of time taking its toll nonetheless. He didn’t budge though. Didn’t move to stand. Didn’t even consider grabbing his cane and doing something about that. Continuing to play catch up with himself. On some subconscious level, they both knew he needed to walk away from this for a while and revisit it with a fresh mind, the the itch to keep going and ignore the consequences of pushing his upper limits was there. He was so close to figuring this out. Just a little more time… 

Something occurred to Jayce at that moment. Dawning on him out of the blue as he realized he was losing the battle he’d barely started to get Viktor to just go home for a few hours and get some rest.

“Wait… Isn’t your birthday tomorrow? I remember prying that out of you a while back. Right after the holiday, right?”

Probably something else about him that was overshadowed by something bigger.

Viktor stopped writing and looked up, a mixture of confusion with a twinge of annoyance on his face. He seemed to wonder where the question had suddenly come from but didn’t say as much, instead focusing on his work again. “What day is it?”

Jayce gave him a strange look. Had he really been here so long that he’d forgotten the date? Did he even know what day of the week it was? How long had he been there before the winter recess had even begun? “Um, the 28th. For a few more hours, at least.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize that. I think I’ve been sitting here a little longer than I expected.” He ran his palms down his face again, inhaling deeply at the sensation his tired eyelids felt as he did so. They tingled, bordering on sore. “The formulation still needs so much work…”

“It looks fantastic so far. And you can tell me all about it. First thing tomorrow.” 

Viktor sighed. He didn’t give him a yes or a no. Instead, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, grasping his cane as he let out a tired sigh. It wasn’t directed at Jayce. He genuinely just needed to sleep. Jayce was right about that. No matter how many times he stared at the blueprints he’d been working on they weren’t going to make more sense. He needed to reset. Then they could work on this together. Something to look forward to.

Little did Viktor know that Jayce wouldn’t actually be leaving. At least, not for long. Jayce had something in mind. He just needed him to leave first.

“Great, I’ll lock up behind you. What I came here for can wait a few more hours.” Jayce wasn’t a gifted liar by any means, but perhaps if he just remained calm that wouldn’t matter.

Nodding in agreement the pair headed to the door. Jayce waited for Viktor to grab his own coat, never having taken his own off before exiting the room and locking everything up behind them. They were probably the only ones here, and now the building would go quiet. Just for a little while.

Making their way down the floors that let out to the main street, Jayce resolved to walk Viktor home. He didn’t need to ask. It was just one of those things that his partner sometimes let him do. It wasn’t any hardship on his part. Viktor didn’t live far from the lab, and Jayce didn’t live far from him. On the same block, in fact. Call it convenience or happenstance, either explanation applied. And yet they never met up outside of office hours. Work-life balance was a fine art and they were both failing at it, it seemed.

They continued along together, chatting quietly more in an effort to stay awake than anything else. Although he was nowhere near the level of sleep-deprived that Viktor was, Jayce still had to admit to being a little tired himself. It had been a long but enjoyable day, and with what he had planned taken into consideration he got the impression that tomorrow would be another flavor of the same. He hoped.

It didn’t take them long to reach Viktor’s residence. Both of their personal residences resided within an area filled with lush green gardens and trees, the leaves of which were mostly gone save for a few evergreens. Typical of that region of Piltover, and yet so extravagant in comparison to some other parts of time if only for how established they were. How settled the whole place felt. It was quiet as the snow began to fall again, soon to cover their tracks. They needed to go their separate ways. The sun had already set and Jayce was running out of time.

“Goodnight, Jayce.” He’d beaten him to the punch this time around. Perhaps he was just too tired for a long goodbye. He hoped the walkover had drained him enough to make him go straight to bed and not sit up for another hour or two fiddling with something where he’d inevitably doze off in an uncomfortable position, but he’d done all he could for now. Viktor could take care of himself. He just hoped he chose to this time around instead of pushing himself too hard. A bad habit they both shared.

Goodnight, Viktor.” He didn’t know why they lingered there after saying their goodbyes, but they did. Even if only for a minute standing several yards apart at different elevations all together, Jayce on the street level and Viktor above him in a rare case of being taller than him. It was the front stoop doing all the legwork, but still. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to look up at his shorter companion.

The tired man gave him a small, tired smile accompanied by a single wave before going through the door and closing it behind himself. It clicked behind him and then everything was silent again, save for a gust of wind through the trees that settled as soon as it started. Jayce stood there for a moment, contemplating his next move as he gripped his coat just a little tighter. He would walk to the end of the street, just in case. And then he would go from there.

His first stop as soon as he left Viktor’s potential line of sight was the markets. What few were still open would suffice. For what he had planned he didn’t need to be anything complicated-

Yes, it did.

Jayce wasn’t a man to do things by half measures, at least not intentionally. He liked to think so, anyway. And this was something it shouldn’t be hard to get right. At least on paper. He didn’t know how Viktor would react to being surprised since he’d never attempted to surprise him before, but he hoped he liked it. He really did.

As always, shopping for anything during the holidays took twice as long as he assumed it would, but the hardest part was getting everything back to the lab without his arms giving up the ghost. He resolved to make two trips; one for decorations and one to find something, anything to give him that he might like. 

“But what could that even be” He wondered to himself as he looked around, hoping that something might catch his eye at one of the last stalls that were still open at such an advanced hour. And surprisingly enough, something managed to.

A diminutive little cactus. 

It was a prickly little thing, indelicate but with an undeniable sense of interest and nuance. Ever so slightly lopsided, perhaps a result of unideal growing conditions that had rendered it undesirable to others who might have picked it. Nothing that couldn’t be helped along a better path if given a chance. Still a unique and beautiful thing, especially if someone was willing to put in the work to nurture it a little. And yet somehow still blooming in the dead of winter. At night, no less. 

It reminded him of someone.

It was perfect.

Jayce returned to the office, just a little too excited before remembering that he still had to decorate. House Talis red and gold were too festive to pass up for something like this. He didn’t even think about it at the time. He just picked the colors and went from there. And as the first and second hours flew by and in a haze of movement he gradually slowed down. The need to sleep, even if only for a little while, became too powerful to ignore. All the hard parts were done. He’d tackled them first. He just had a handful of little touches to add here and there and it would be as close to perfect as it could be given what he had on hand.

Opting to take a break for a little while, he sat down in his own chair at the desk opposite to Viktor’s and before long he dozed off. When he awoke he immediately noticed the passage of time. It was faint, but he could see the morning light reflecting off the waters of the bay, far off in the distance. It had been a few hours at least. He had a few things to see to before the sun reached any higher in the sky.

Dragging himself to his feet he opted to fix something to drink. It was cold out still. The perfect weather for Sweetmilk. He knew his friend loved the stuff, so he made sure to top off the supplies required to make it wherever it dwindled. Now if he could just remember how much sugar he was supposed to put in it. Was it two scoops? Two scoops. Surely. That was something he would normally remember, but it seemed that his inadequate sleeping hours had put him in something of a haze. He’d shake it off eventually. He had a long day ahead of him.

With the drinks prepared but still too hot to drink, he sat both mugs down on the desk and then sat down himself, right where he’d been a few short minutes earlier.

Perhaps he could rest his eyes for a few more minutes. And maybe a few dozen more after that. Dawn had barely broken, after all. There was no way that-

Suddenly the click of something beyond the door became perceptible. It was faint, but he knew that sound anywhere. As if the essence of one of the crystals they’d been working on had been suffused into his very veins, he found himself wide awake. He sidestepped the chair as he stood to avoid getting tangled in it before going to adjust the lights. Well, to light a few additional candles that he’d procured to make the room less dark on such a gloomy day, but the point still stood.

Moments later the door unlocked and Viktor entered their shared space, immediately doing a noticeable doubletake at the state of the lab. From the ceiling above them to the surface of their long, shared desk, no surface had been left untouched. Jayce had evidently found notable satisfaction in placing things here and there to spruce up the place. But the most notable feature by far was the tree he’d taken the time to set up.

It was taller than Jayce was, something that had made maneuvering it into place something of a challenge, but when had he ever backed down from one of those anyway?

Viktor walked around the space silently taking in everything, his expression hard to read. He seemed genuinely baffled that his companion had gone to such lengths. What had possessed him to do such a thing so suddenly?

“Jayce where did the tree-”

“Surprise!” He interrupted, approaching him and handing him one of the two mugs he’d prepared as the shorter of the two shrugged out of this winter coat, draping it over the back of his chair. He turned around, a certain glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. Or perhaps it was the decorations. Who was to say? He didn’t look annoyed or dissatisfied, and that was a good start as far as Jayce was concerned.

“Happy birthday! I figured since you missed all the celebrations by being here we couldn’t miss today, too.”

Viktor stared at him incredulously, accepting the mug. The warmth was pleasant to his cold hands in the same way that the warmth of the room itself was pleasant to behold. Or perhaps that was an effect of standing near Jayce. He did exude a certain comforting warmth. Like a walking blanket.

“It’s not a big deal, Jayce. You didn’t have to go to such trouble.”

“I know you think that, but I thought,” He wasn’t sure quite how to express what was on his mind, so he decided to just spit it out. “I feel like our lives have changed so much in the last couple of months. That we’ve really gotten to know each other. We both work so hard on our shared dream- you especially lately. I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t forget about you despite everything else that’s been taking up our time.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly to one side. It was barely perceptible, just like the humbled little smile that crossed his face before he decided to indulge in his drink. Once he was done, he looked up again, as amused as he was oddly touched by the gesture. Never once in a million years had he expected someone to do something this kind for him. This thoughtful. Jayce was something special. Truly.

Setting his now empty mug down, Jayce walked over with a small box, offering to hold the cup for his lab partner as he regarded the bow with a look of disbelief. He looked like it was the first time he’d ever been given. Maybe it was. “I don’t know if they bother with this sort of thing where you’re from, but still. Maybe we can make it our yearly tradition?” 

If not somewhat reluctantly, he took the box, lifting the decorated lid and beholding the tiny potted plant within. It was a showy thing, the kind of box that opened on all four sides when you removed the lid, falling open in his hand. A sparkle of something so pure in his eyes that it rendered him breathless for an instant. It reminded Jayce of the night they’d had their breakthrough with Hextech, the two of them drifting joyfully among their possibilities that were not fathomable when the two of them faced them together. 

He’d picked the right gift. He could tell.

Stepping away to set the delicate little thing down in front of the window that sat at the heart of their space, Viktor then retreated to his coat and seemed to search for something before withdrawing the scarf that he’d worn over that day. A new one, by the looks of it. Or, at least one Jayce had never seen before. He leaned his cane against the desk for a moment and then folded the garment carefully before extending his hand to Jayce.

“Here. Maybe your neck won’t be as cold.” He said, gently placing the now folded garment into Jayce’s hand. Jayce, understandably, was surprised by the gesture. He’d seemed to like that scarf quite a bit and it was very nicely made. Knitted delicately in shades that matched both of their clothing due to their propensity to wear matching colors. It was such a rarity that Viktor bought new things for himself like this… 

“Viktor I-” He started to protest but then thought better of himself. Why had he ever thought that this would be a one-sided exchange? That wasn’t how it worked with Viktor and it never would be. Returning kindness with kindness was simply who they were. It was why they were here. What brought them together and kept them close. “Thank you, Viktor.”

Nodding, Viktor’s eyes had drifted over towards the end of his own desk, noticing for the first time that Jayce had seemingly brought them breakfast. Lunch? Food. The name of the meal didn’t matter when you worked hours this atypical. But the sentiment did and he appreciated the gesture. “Thank you, Jayce.”

He tried to shrug it off as being no big deal but the flush in his face and the pleased look on his face told on him more than he realized. A look that was replaced a moment later by a yawn. Perhaps drinking a hot drink in a cozy room on a snowy day was not a good way to stay awake, after all. He blinked, his eyes watering slightly as he tried to play off his tiredness despite the rate at which it was catching up with him. Maybe it was time to sit down for a moment and just rest. Something that he did without giving it much thought.

“Eh. Maybe you should get some sleep?” He looked almost too happy to have the chance to throw that one back at him so soon. Still, the statement was genuine and held truth. They were like the sun and the moon fighting the tide. Two forces forever in flux but balanced all the same. They’d get back on the same schedule with one another. Eventually. “I have plenty to do to keep myself busy.”

The taller of the two shook his head and settled into his desk chair, leaning his arm against the desk and his head against his arm. He closed his eyes and let out a yawn, nodding. “I need maybe thirty minutes and then I’ll be right with you.”

Viktor didn’t confirm or disapprove of his request in any way. He would let thirty minutes turn into sixty and then sixty into one hundred and twenty with no intention of waking him from his slumber. Maybe they both needed more sleep while they could get it.

He would let him sleep in. He’d more than earned it through sentimentality alone. Maybe by then Viktor’s own work would make sense to him again.

Jayce never explained where all the scarves came from as the years passed, and the collection of strange cactuses and succulents that seemed to gradually spring up from nowhere grew ever larger in what little window space they had at the lab until one day Viktor finally took them home with him; only to come back the next day and find a new one on his desk with no explanation. A leafy green thing with thick spines and colored tips. Hardy and resilient but never lacking in beauty. Jayce was sure he’d seen him smile as he held the pot up, placing it in the window where it stood the best chance of survival. 

That thing never managed to die. 

He had such a way with plants.

Maybe one of these days he’d get him to come over for the holidays, after all.

—

Well, THIS got tooth rottingly sentimental, didn’t it lol? I really hope it was decent. I’ve never written anything Arcane-related before so phew! Writing dialogue between these two is a fun challenge. I have more in store since I keep receiving requests. I have two AUs that I’m cooking up, so check out my Tumblr and my Bluesky if you want more in-depth info on that. The links are in my bio. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know if it was any good. You have a great holiday season, everyone! Thanks again for reading! Have a great day.