#i might as well go in an unexpected direction for the week 3 fic

[bratzkoo]

merging arrangements | wonwoo pt. 3

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: chaebol heir! wonwoo x chaebol heiress!/ nurse! reader Genre: angst, fluff, smut Rating: NC-17 Word count: 4k~ Warnings/note: for my Anna, my beautiful nurse. No smut scene here but I'll keep the rating NC-17. I'm sorry for rushing the fic but I'm planning on taking a break for a while and want to queue up as many fics as i can so my blog will update even if i'm technically on hiatus.

summary: Jeon Wonwoo's been smitten with you for years, as the two of you enter an arranged marriage, he hopes you'll feel the same.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys , @gyubakeries , @childish-fear

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The Seoul skyline glittered in the early evening light as Wonwoo stood at the window of his office, a tumbler of whiskey untouched in his hand. The past few weeks since returning from his honeymoon with Y/N had been a whirlwind of business meetings, family dinners, and stolen moments with his new wife. Yet despite the growing comfort between them, Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Y/N seemed distracted lately, her smiles not quite reaching her eyes.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Come in," he called, turning to see Mingyu enter, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," Mingyu said, fidgeting with his tie. "Got a minute? There's something I need to talk to you about."

Wonwoo nodded, gesturing to the plush leather chairs in the corner of his office. As they sat, he noticed the tension in his friend's shoulders, the way Mingyu's eyes darted around the room, avoiding direct contact.

"What's going on, Mingyu? You look like you're about to confess to a crime," Wonwoo joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mingyu let out a strained laugh. "Not a crime, exactly, but... well, it's complicated." He took a deep breath, then blurted out, "I'm married. To Ela. We've been married for six months."

The words hung in the air between them. Wonwoo blinked, trying to process the information. "Married? To Dr. Ela? But... how? When?"

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Wonwoo recognized as a sign of his friend's agitation. "It happened fast. We've been dating for a while, and when her father started pressuring her to consider an arranged marriage with some businessman's son, we just... we couldn't bear the thought of being separated. So we eloped."

"Six months ago," Wonwoo repeated, his mind racing. "That was right before..."

"Right before your engagement to Y/N was announced," Mingyu finished. "I wanted to tell you, but with everything happening so fast with your marriage, and the merger... it never seemed like the right time."

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, trying to reconcile this new information with what he thought he knew about his best friend. "Does anyone else know?"

Mingyu shook his head. "Just Y/N. Ela told her recently. We've been keeping it quiet because of Ela's family. Her father... he wouldn't approve of her marrying someone who isn't from old money."

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Wonwoo. Here he was, in an arranged marriage that was slowly evolving into something real, while his best friend had secretly married for love and was forced to hide it.

"Why tell me now?" Wonwoo asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

Mingyu's expression softened. "Because you're my best friend, Wonwoo. And because... well, I've seen how things are developing between you and Y/N. I thought maybe, if you knew about Ela and me, it might give you hope. That love can grow in unexpected places."

Wonwoo felt a warmth spread through his chest at Mingyu's words. Despite the shock of the revelation, he couldn't help but feel happy for his friend. "I'm glad you told me," he said softly. "And I'm happy for you, truly. But Mingyu, you can't keep living like this. Hiding your marriage, sneaking around... it's not fair to either of you."

Mingyu nodded, looking relieved to have finally shared his secret. "I know. We're working on a plan. Ela's making a name for herself at the hospital, building her own reputation separate from her family. Once she's more established, we're hoping her father might be more accepting."

As they continued to talk, Mingyu sharing stories of his secret romance and married life, Wonwoo found himself reflecting on his own relationship with Y/N. They had started as strangers, brought together by family obligations and business interests. But now, weeks into their marriage, he was beginning to see glimpses of something deeper, something that made his heart race and his palms sweat like a schoolboy with his first crush.

Later that evening, as Wonwoo made his way home, his mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Mingyu's revelation. He entered the apartment he shared with Y/N, calling out a greeting as he removed his shoes.

"In here," Y/N's voice came from the living room. Wonwoo followed the sound, finding her curled up on the couch with a medical journal. The sight of her, glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back in a messy bun, made his heart skip a beat.

"How was your day?" he asked, loosening his tie as he sat beside her.

Y/N marked her place in the journal and set it aside. "Busy. There was a multi-car pileup on the highway, so the ER was chaos for most of the afternoon." She rubbed her temples, and Wonwoo resisted the urge to pull her into his arms. They were still navigating the boundaries of their physical affection outside of the bedroom.

"Sounds stressful," he said instead. "Have you eaten? I could order something in."

Y/N shook her head. "I grabbed something at the hospital. But thank you." She paused, studying his face. "Is everything okay? You look... preoccupied."

Wonwoo debated for a moment whether to share Mingyu's secret, but decided against it. It wasn't his story to tell. "Just a long day," he said with a small smile. "How about we watch one of those medical dramas you like? I could use a good laugh at their inaccuracies."

Y/N chuckled, the sound warming Wonwoo from the inside out. "Alright, but don't blame me when you start yelling at the TV about improper CPR techniques."

As they settled in to watch, Wonwoo couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable this felt. Sitting with Y/N, laughing at the ridiculous plot twists of the drama, occasionally brushing hands as they reached for the snacks between them. It wasn't the passionate romance of Mingyu and Ela's secret marriage, but it was something. Something real, something growing.

Little did Wonwoo know, the peace of this moment was about to be shattered by revelations that would shake the very foundation of their budding relationship.

---

The next day found Y/N in the break room of the hospital, her head in her hands as she tried to make sense of the turmoil in her heart. The door opened, and she looked up to see Alexys and Ela enter, deep in conversation.

"I'm telling you, that new resident is a disaster waiting to happen," Alexys was saying. "I swear, if he mixes up another blood sample, I'm going to— Y/N? Are you okay?"

Y/N tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "I'm fine, just... thinking."

Ela, ever perceptive, sat down beside her. "Thinking about what? You look like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

The concern in her friends' eyes broke something in Y/N. Before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out. "I think I still have feelings for Seung-cheol."

The silence that followed her confession was deafening. Alexys, who had been reaching for a cup of coffee, froze mid-motion. Ela's eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise.

"But... but you're married," Alexys sputtered, finally finding her voice. "To Wonwoo. Tall, handsome, ridiculously rich Wonwoo. Who, might I add, looks at you like you hung the moon and stars."

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands again. "I know, I know. God, don't you think I know that? It's just... Seung-cheol and I, we have history. And being around him every day, seeing him care for patients, remembering all the plans we used to make..."

"Oh, Y/N," Ela said softly, rubbing soothing circles on her friend's back. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Since the wedding, I think," Y/N admitted. "Maybe even before. I thought it would go away, that once I got to know Wonwoo better, these feelings for Seung-cheol would fade. And they have, in a way. Wonwoo is... he's wonderful. Kind, supportive, everything I never expected in an arranged marriage. But then Seung-cheol will do something, say something, and it all comes rushing back."

Alexys, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly exploded. "Are you kidding me right now? Y/N, do you have any idea how complicated this is? You're married! To a chaebol heir! Your families have merged companies! And now you're telling us you have feelings for the guy from ward?"

"Paid department," Y/N corrected weakly, but Alexys wasn't finished.

"Whatever! The point is, this isn't some drama where you can just follow your heart and everything works out. There are real consequences here. For you, for Wonwoo, for both your families. Not to mention poor Seung-cheol, who's probably been pining away this whole time thinking he missed his chance."

Ela shot Alexys a warning look. "What Alexys is trying to say, in her uniquely tactless way, is that this is a very delicate situation. Y/N, have you talked to Wonwoo about any of this?"

Y/N shook her head, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "How can I? We're just starting to build something real. If I tell him I have feelings for someone else... it would destroy him. And probably end our marriage before it's really begun."

"Okay, okay, let's all take a deep breath," Ela said, ever the voice of reason. "Y/N, you need to really think about what you want here. Are these feelings for Seung-cheol just nostalgia for what might have been? Or are they something deeper?"

"I don't know," Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. "That's the problem. I don't know what I feel anymore."

Alexys, who had been pacing the break room, suddenly stopped. "Oh my god," she said, her voice rising in pitch. "Oh my god. This is insane. We're in the middle of a real-life love triangle. A married love triangle. With chaebols and secret feelings and... oh my god, I think I'm having a panic attack."

"You're having a panic attack?" Y/N said incredulously. "I'm the one living this nightmare!"

"Ladies, please," Ela interjected, but her own composure was starting to crack. "We need to stay calm and— oh, who am I kidding? This is a disaster. Y/N, how did we end up here? First Mingyu and I with our secret marriage, and now you with your secret feelings, and... oh god, is this karma? Is the universe punishing us for all those times we sneaked extra pudding cups from the cafeteria?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Y/N couldn't help but let out a watery laugh. "I'm pretty sure the universe has bigger concerns than stolen pudding cups, Ela."

"You'd be surprised," Alexys muttered. "Those things are like gold around here." She took a deep breath, visibly trying to collect herself. "Okay, so let me get this straight. You're married to Wonwoo, who you're starting to have real feelings for, but you also have lingering feelings for Seung-cheol, who you've known longer and had a connection with before your arranged marriage. Meanwhile, Ela here is secretly married to Wonwoo's best friend, which adds a whole other layer of complication to this mess. Did I miss anything?"

"Just the part where both our families are expecting an heir to secure the company merger," Y/N added glumly.

"Right, because this situation needed more pressure," Alexys said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Anything else? Any other bombs you want to drop? Maybe you're secretly a long-lost princess or something?"

Y/N shook her head, a hysterical giggle bubbling up in her throat. "No, I think that about covers it."

The three friends looked at each other, the full weight of the situation settling over them. Then, as if on cue, they all burst into laughter. It wasn't happy laughter, but rather the kind that comes when a situation is so absurd, so overwhelming, that the only response left is to laugh or cry.

"Oh god," Ela gasped between giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"I have no idea," Y/N admitted, her own laughter subsiding into hiccups. "I just... I needed to tell someone. To get it off my chest before I exploded."

Alexys, who had slid down the wall to sit on the floor, shook her head in disbelief. "Well, consider it thoroughly off your chest and splattered all over this break room. Seriously, Y/N, only you could turn an arranged marriage into a K-drama worthy love triangle."

"It's not like I planned this," Y/N protested weakly.

"Of course not," Ela soothed. "But Y/N, you know you're going to have to make a decision eventually, right? You can't keep going on like this, torn between Wonwoo and Seung-cheol. It's not fair to either of them, and it's certainly not fair to you."

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of her friend's words. "I know. I just... I need time to sort out my feelings. To figure out what's real and what's just... nostalgia or fear or whatever this is."

"Well, you've got us," Alexys said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Whatever you decide, whatever happens, we've got your back. Even if I think you're certifiably insane for getting yourself into this situation in the first place."

"Thanks, I think," Y/N said dryly. She looked at her friends, feeling a rush of affection for these women who were willing to weather this storm with her. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."

"Probably make much more sensible life choices," Ela quipped, earning a weak smile from Y/N.

As the three friends sat in the break room, the gravity of Y/N's confession settling around them like a heavy blanket, none of them noticed the shadow that passed by the partially open door. None of them saw Wonwoo, who had come to surprise Y/N with lunch, freeze in his tracks at the sound of his wife's voice. And none of them saw the play of emotions across his face – shock, hurt, confusion, and finally, a deep, aching sadness – as he quietly backed away from the door, Y/N's words echoing in his mind.

"I think I still have feelings for Seung-cheol."

The lunch in Wonwoo's hand suddenly felt like a lead weight. He turned and walked away, his mind reeling, his heart breaking with every step. The truth had been unveiled, but at what cost?

---

Wonwoo found himself wandering the streets of Seoul, the bustling city a blur around him as Y/N's words played on repeat in his mind. He had come to the hospital on a whim, wanting to surprise Y/N with lunch from her favorite café. Now, he wished he had never set foot in the place.

He replayed every interaction he'd had with Y/N since their wedding, searching for signs he might have missed. Had her smiles been forced? Her laughter hollow? Had every tender moment between them been a lie?

No, he decided. Whatever Y/N's feelings for Seung-cheol, Wonwoo couldn't believe that everything between them had been false. He had seen the genuine surprise in her eyes when he supported her career, felt the real warmth in her embrace when they lay together at night. There was something there, something real growing between them. But was it enough to overcome her history with Seung-cheol?

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the city, Wonwoo found himself in a small park. He sat heavily on a bench, his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do with this information? Confront Y/N? Pretend he had never heard? The thought of facing her, of seeing the guilt in her eyes when she realized he knew, made his stomach churn.

"Wonwoo-ssi? Are you alright?"

The voice startled him, and he looked up to see Seung-cheol standing before him, concern etched on his features. For a moment, Wonwoo felt a surge of irrational anger. This was the man his wife had feelings for, the one who might steal her away. But as quickly as it came, the anger faded, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

"Seung-cheol-ssi," Wonwoo acknowledged, straightening up. He gestured to the empty space beside him. "Please, sit."

Seung-cheol hesitated for a moment before taking a seat, maintaining a respectful distance. An awkward silence fell between them, the air heavy with unspoken words and shared history.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Seung-cheol finally said, his voice carefully neutral. "Is everything okay? You looked... troubled."

Wonwoo let out a bitter laugh. "Troubled. Yes, I suppose that's one way to put it." He turned to look at Seung-cheol, really look at him. This was the man Y/N had history with, the one who still held a piece of her heart. Wonwoo searched his face, trying to see what Y/N saw.

"Can I ask you something, Seung-cheol-ssi?" Wonwoo said abruptly.

Seung-cheol nodded, a wary look in his eyes. "Of course."

"Did you love her? Before... before our marriage was arranged. Did you love Y/N?"

The question hung in the air between them, charged with emotion. Seung-cheol's eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flashing across his face – surprise, pain, regret.

"I... yes," Seung-cheol admitted softly. "I did. I do. But Wonwoo-ssi, you have to understand, I never—"

Wonwoo held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I just... I needed to know." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I heard Y/N talking to her friends today. She still has feelings for you."

Seung-cheol's sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the quiet park. "Wonwoo-ssi, I... I don't know what to say. I never meant to come between you and Y/N. When your marriage was announced, I stepped back. I've tried to be respectful, to maintain proper boundaries."

"I know," Wonwoo said, surprising himself with the lack of anger in his voice. "I've seen how you interact with her at the hospital. You've been... a good friend to her. A support."

"She's an amazing woman," Seung-cheol said softly. "Brilliant, compassionate. Any man would be lucky to have her love."

Wonwoo nodded, feeling a strange mix of pride and pain at Seung-cheol's words. "She is. And that's why... that's why I can't just let her go without a fight."

Seung-cheol looked at him, surprise evident in his expression. "What do you mean?"

Wonwoo took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "The truth is, Seung-cheol-ssi, I've been in love with Y/N for years. Long before our marriage was arranged. I fell for her at a charity gala years ago, watching her passionately discuss her dreams of becoming a nurse. Her determination, her compassion... I was captivated from that moment on."

Seung-cheol's eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting this revelation.

Wonwoo continued, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "When our families arranged this marriage, I thought it was a dream come true. A chance to finally be close to her, to build a life together. But I never wanted it to be just a business arrangement. These past weeks, getting to know her, seeing all the sides of her I'd only imagined before... it's only made me fall deeper in love with her."

The admission hung in the air between them, a challenge and a confession all at once.

"So what now?" Seung-cheol asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo stood, brushing off his pants. "Now, I go home to my wife. I fight for our marriage, for the love that I've carried for years and that I hope can grow between us. And you... you respect her choice, whatever that may be."

Seung-cheol nodded slowly, standing as well. "For what it's worth, Wonwoo-ssi, I think you're a good man. Y/N is lucky to have you."

"Thank you," Wonwoo said, extending his hand. Seung-cheol took it, the handshake firm and respectful. As they parted ways, Wonwoo felt a strange sense of clarity. The path ahead wouldn't be easy, but he knew what he had to do.

When Wonwoo arrived home, the apartment was dark and quiet. For a moment, he thought Y/N might not be home, but then he saw a sliver of light under the bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, he made his way down the hallway, each step feeling heavier than the last.

He knocked softly before entering. Y/N was sitting on the bed, still in her scrubs, her hair a mess as if she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly. She looked up as he entered, and Wonwoo's heart clenched at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes.

"Wonwoo," she said, her voice hoarse. "Where have you been? I was worried."

He moved to sit beside her on the bed, maintaining a small distance between them. "I'm sorry. I needed some time to think."

Y/N nodded, twisting her hands in her lap. "Wonwoo, there's something I need to tell you. I—"

"I know," he interrupted gently. "About your feelings for Seung-cheol. I overheard you talking to Alexys and Ela at the hospital today."

Y/N's sharp intake of breath was loud in the quiet room. "Oh god," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Wonwoo, I'm so sorry. I never meant... I didn't want you to find out like this."

Wonwoo reached out, taking her hand in his. "I know. And I'm not angry, Y/N. I'm hurt, yes. Confused. But not angry."

"You should be," Y/N said, a sob breaking free. "I'm a terrible wife. We're just starting to build something real, and I'm ruining it with these... these lingering feelings."

Wonwoo squeezed her hand, waiting until she met his gaze. "You're not a terrible wife, Y/N. You're human. We entered this marriage as strangers, with our own histories, our own emotional baggage. It's natural that there would be... complications."

Y/N stared at him, disbelief written across her features. "How can you be so understanding? I just admitted to having feelings for another man."

"Because I love you," Wonwoo said simply, the words falling from his lips with surprising ease. "I'm in love with you, Y/N. And I believe that what we're building together is worth fighting for."

Y/N's breath caught, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "Wonwoo, I... I don't know what to say. I care for you, deeply. What's growing between us, it's real and beautiful and I don't want to lose it. But these feelings for Seung-cheol, they're confusing everything."

Wonwoo nodded, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "I know. And I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. I'm not giving you an ultimatum. What I'm saying is... I'm here. I'm committed to us, to our marriage. And I'm willing to work through this, together, if you are."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. When she opened them, Wonwoo saw a mix of gratitude, affection, and determination in their depths. "I want to try," she whispered. "I want to work through this. With you."

Wonwoo felt a weight lift from his chest at her words. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she cried, her tears soaking into his shirt. They had a long road ahead of them, full of difficult conversations and emotional hurdles. But as he held his wife, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, Wonwoo felt a spark of hope.

Their marriage may have started as an arrangement, but it had become something more. Something worth fighting for. And fight they would, together, against all odds.

As the night deepened around them, Wonwoo and Y/N remained entwined, the first truthful words of their new chapter hanging in the air between them. The truths had been unveiled, painful and raw. But with those truths came the possibility of a deeper understanding, a stronger bond.

The future was uncertain, but for now, they had this moment. This honesty. This chance to build something real from the ashes of their arranged beginning.

And for now, that was enough.

[uozlulu]

Anyway, sucks to be that anon but y'all have a weird little fic where I explore things like what costume Armand might wear to an onstage vivisection coming to you on Friday

[percahliaweek]

FAQ '24

What tag should I use?

#percahliaweek is our designated tag - you can @ us @percahliaweek so we can reblog your contribution on the corresponding day.

Where are the prompts?

Ah, seems this has escaped containment then. You can find them HERE!

Will you be doing anything on Twitter/other social media?

We considered it! However, as other social media sites have proven unreliable (especially lately), we'll be hosting the event only on Tumblr. However, you're welcome to post your work wherever you like! Just understand that without a Tumblr post we can't exactly RB your entry.

Can I do _ for the event?

Yes. Yep. That too. Seriously, so long as it focuses on Perc'ahlia (and is appropriately tagged to avoid spoiling people), you can do it. Cosplay, inspired recipes, beadwork, podfic, go wild! Well, with the caveat that no hateful content will be permitted - don't use a joyous event to rain on someone else's parade or promote hatespeech, alright?

Is NSFW content allowed?

Given the ship in question and just how canonically horny they are for eachother - yes! However, we request that you tag this content as #nsfw and use the appropriate content filter on it. If posting in the Discord server, keep it to the 18+ chat. Be mindful of potential minors in fandom space + people browsing content in public.

I want to participate but haven't watched Campaign 1!

We welcome fans of The Legend of Vox Machina with open arms. As a result, it's requested that campaign fans do their best to avoid spoiling show fans for anything beyond what Season 2 has shown (Umbrasyl's defeat). That means late Campaign 1, the oneshots and any mention of them in other campaigns should be tagged as #cr1 spoilers (using just this tag for simplicity). Show fans, if you want to remain unspoiled, I recommend you block this on Tumblr and mute spoilery channels in the server.

Wait - what might get spoiled for me here?

The #cr1 spoilers tag should broadly cover anything TLOVM hasn't yet, but do note that Percival and Vex'ahlia pop up in Campaign 3 and so some fics might contain mild spoilers for the events of that campaign and the decades between their epilogue and now.

Is there an AO3 collection for the fanfics?

Yes! HERE it is, ready and waiting for your fics! If interested in last year's fics (which definitely deserve some love), you can find them over HERE!

Does my submission have to fit one of the prompts?

That would be ideal, yes! Anything freeform should be posted on Day 5 for Free/Random prompts. But fitting the prompt can be very loose - maybe you just use the word as a motif, or you take it in an entirely unexpected direction. We want to encourage creativity and fun more than anything else.

I don't know what to do for the Free/Random day!

We have a few recommendations (we are unaffiliated with the websites linked): Random page of the Encyclopedia Exandria Random word generator OTP prompt generator AU generator Ghost’s Spell prompts [roll 2d20?] Wild Magic Surge table Life events table If you've made prompt lists and would not mind them being featured here, reach out!

How did you choose the prompts?

Prompts were selected by a combination of admin discussion and voting in our Discord server to try and ensure a good mix of evocative prompts (we see y'all voting disproportionately for the Scars prompt! We see it!).

Where can I find last year's prompts?

You can find the list and links to individual tags HERE. Given last year was our first year, we unfortunately didn't think to tag Day 1 until after the fact (we'll need to go and clean that up).

Why late September?

On September 29th, 2016, the Critical Role episode 'Passed Through Fire' aired, which features an iconic Perc'ahlia moment (no spoilers for show fans!). Following Burr's poll last year on which scene is most iconic for the pairing, we decided to have the week celebrate the anniversary of that episode. And, with TLOVM S3 airing the next week, who knows - we might get the animated version to go with it soon! ;3

Is it okay if I only do one prompt?

This event is intended to be relaxed and fun - one entry, or seven, or fourteen, however many you want! We've tried to announce the event earlier this year, to allow for more time for everyone to work on their entries, so please don't feel pressured to do them all the week of. And if you can't finish on time, there's no pressure: late submissions will still be RB'd and added to the AO3 collection. Mind you, after a month or two we might stop checking the blog and tag regularly, so your best bet is to @ us or post in the Discord server!

A Discord server?

We have set up a little server for this event on Discord, mostly to hang out with other Perc'ahlia fans and motivate eachother to work on our respective projects. The current link is HERE - let us know if it's not working!

Who is hosting this?

At the moment the users running this blog are @burr-ell, @blorbologist, @crithaus, @essayofthoughts and @rightpastnowhere! If you have any questions or concerns (i.e. we didn't see your post and missed RBing it :c) please let us know!

Any more questions? Feel free to send in an ask and we'll do our best to answer in a timely manner!

[cactusspatz]

December recs

Whew, I read a lot of fic in December! My Yuletide recs are here and here, and I winnowed down the rest of them to a mere ten recs.

Click on for Batman, Murderbot, and Goblin Emperor fics!

BATMAN

The Time Before by @cdelphiki

One moment, Red Hood was fighting with Black Mask, listening to the idiot go on about how he'd murder Jason long before he'd become a problem. The next… Jason was ten years in the past, nine-years-old, and fending for himself on the streets of Gotham. Bruce might not know about Jason yet in the timeline, but Batman was the only one who could protect him against Black Mask. If only Jason didn't hate him so much…

Excellent time travel fic!

this kind of weather by r_astra / @heyy-its-skip

Jason’s at school when his mom dies, and that’s the only reason any of it happens. If he’d been home, if he’d been with her, he would’ve been in the wind before anyone else even knew. Even if they looked, no one ever would’ve found him. He’d have taken to the sewers if that’s what it took, man-eating crocodile guy and all.

I love Jason in this, and his friendship with Stephanie, and the identity secrets.

seventeen going under by @bonerot19

"Where's your pops?" Terry shouted down the sidewalk. "Dunno," Jason said. "Haven't seen him in a week. I stopped goin' lookin' for him a long time ago." Hell, Jason was happy with the man's absence. Maybe it would stick, this time. "He owes me fifty bucks." Terry, closer to Jason now, was still shouting. Jason spun around and started walking backwards. "What'a'ya know," he said. "Me too." AU where Jason is seventeen, his parents are alive, he works nights at a convenience store, and everything is about to go to shit.

Loosely inspired by this kind of weather (in that Jason's parents survived longer) but much heavier on the angst and h/c. I'm loving the WIP sequel as well!

coconut and aloe by merils (Tim/Kon)

Tim still doesn’t sit. “I washed it like three times, but my hair still smells like vinegar and death,” he says, and gazes intently into Kon’s eyes. …Ah. Now Kon gets it. “Tim, buddy,” he says, amusement bubbling up in his chest, because apparently Tim can’t just ask like a normal person. It’s stupidly endearing. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Soft and sensual and sweet.

MURDERBOT

An Unexpected Quarter by @ilovedthestars

Murderbot is captured by the company, with no one to come to its rescue. Help comes from somewhere it doesn’t expect.

Aimed directly at my id, and a great outsider POV. On a similar theme, I also enjoyed Salvage or Repair by the same author.

words left behind by torpidgilliver

"How do you stand it?" Dr. Gurathin's tone is slow and even when he asks, "Stand what?" SecUnit 3 shares its feelings with someone who might understand.

Beautiful exploration of Three's grief, and a lovely look at Gurathin's life.

Terrible Tactical Strategy by audreycritter

Three is behaving oddly. There's a surprisingly ordinary explanation, it's just that the explanation isn't fun for anyone.

In which Three has feelings about media in an entirely new direction, and a mini breakdown. Achy but kind.

Un/Safe by John_lzhc

Ayda Mensah was in her office cubby, reviewing the last of the council dispatches, when she received an urgent assistance request from Secunit. That… had never happened before. Murderbot has a close encounter of a 3-year-old kind. It is not impressed.

*cackles* Look, Murderbot is so competent that I just can't resist stories where it panics in social situations.

GOBLIN EMPEROR

The Search for Marneise Amalo by Sphragis

"Before we may attend to the truly important aims of our account, we must address a matter that we had rather not. Were it not for the prurient curiosity of the worst kind of people, we would not deign even to introduce the following subject. As we are obliged to speak, we shall keep the point brief: Pel-Thenhior was not marnis. The accusation was always and only vicious rumor." On the (in)ability of love to find expression in the historical record.

Gorgeous fic using historical research (letters, academic writing, and video/interview) to explore the edges of Thara and Iana's relationship and future. Creative and wonderful.

[supermanshield]

superbat fic where theyre trying to wrangle everyones busy schedule? jl meetings, galas, someones birthday dinner, someones recital, theres a lot to account for lol

Oh anon, you know this is my favourite trope for superbat! <3 Thank you for the ask and sorry it took a while, but here it is. And I really let myself go, didn't count the words but it's way more than 100.

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

"Tonight?"

"I can't, Damian's teacher wants to speak to me. Again." Bruce sighed and flicked through the calendar on his phone. Almost every day was completely filled with appointments, meetings, league meetings, monitor duty, patrol time. Hmm... "How about Saturday morning?"

"I go running with Lois, you know that. And you probably won't be awake, anyway."

"You could just... start without me."

"Bruce!" The people at the table next to them looked up. Clark shut his mouth and sat back, embarrassed. Bruce went back to his phone. Clark still carried around a paper agenda, for some reason, and flicked through that.

"Saturday evening is Cass' ballet recital...."

"We definitely can't miss that," Clark confirmed. Bruce shook his head in agreement.

"Sunday you've got the annual Zenith Awards and Gala. Hmm."

Clark groaned. "I wouldn’t mind missing that one. Or sneak out during. I don't need to hear Luthor talk all evening."

"As one of the nominees? Clark, no. I'll be there to cheer you on, and protect you from the big bad Lex by talking over him."

Clark chuckled. "You're the best." His face lit up. "Oh. So after, we could sneak out together..."

"Won't do. It'll be too late by then.” He lowered his voice. “and I'll have to go straight to patrol."

"And Monday I've got a late monitor shift. Tuesday Dick's coming over for dinner, Wednesday..."

"Board meeting, you know that."

Clark nodded. "Right. Thursday I promised to help Jon... up north," he said, indicating the direction of the fortress with his eyebrows. He sat back, defeated, staring at his agenda. "So that's it, no time at all this week? Not even a little gap somewhere? I can be quick."

"And that's not always a good thing, Kent." Clark almost choked on his coffee. If he could. "And this is not even counting any..." Bruce looked over at the other table, lowered his volume so only Clark could hear. "Any of the unexpected things we deal with." Clark nodded solemnly, and leaned over the table closer to Bruce. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Supervillains could visit, or break out, or natural disasters could occur. They were used to dropping everything at a moment's notice when they were needed. It was the rest of their lives that were so busy. 

"This was to be expected with four full-time jobs and 9 children between us," Bruce concluded, leaning over the table as well, meeting Clark halfway to put his glasses back on his face.

"I can't believe it's come to this already. We have to plan our sex time."

"If you call it sex time again, we might not have to plan it at all anymore, Clark."

Clark couldn't hold back a laugh at that. He brushed some hair out of Bruce's face. His mouth was curved in a genuine smile, a smirk he usually only saw in the bedroom. He still couldn't believe they had finally gotten together, and he was so happy with Bruce in his life, but it was hard sometimes, to keep meeting halfway and around their schedules, between battles and fights and missions, and daily life.

Bruce perked up suddenly, eyes opening wide. "Clark," he said. "What are we doing?"

Clark frowned. "A date? Just two regular guys on a date?"

"And what could we be doing."

A lightbulb came on in Clark's head, but he wasn't convinced yet. "Hey, a date is important too. I don't want our relationship to only consist of quickies in the broom closet."

"I agree," Bruce said hastily, and it warmed Clark's heart. "But we just established that you won't get any of me for at least a week, so I choose sex. Right now. We still have an hour." He stared intently into Clark’s eyes.

"Okay." Clark took a sip of the coffee that they were about to abandon, and held up one finger. "But only if you stay in bed with me after."

“Fine,” Bruce grumbled, but the skip in his heartbeat was unmistakable. 

Bruce paid for their coffees quickly, while Clark waited with his jacket by the door. As they left the little café, he could hear the couple that had sat next to them talking over their food.

“Ahh, young love,” the woman mused.

“Dear, those guys were at least in their forties.”

“You have no sense of romance, Derrick.” 

Clark smiled, jogging after Bruce into the alleyway to take him home.

[wannabesewcrafty]

Crushing It (Part 3)

Fandom: Debris (TV)

Notes: Concluding this AU fic from a prompt via @dailyau. Tagging @fluffbruary because it’s fluff! (Will go back and add links to the previous parts!)

Finola couldn’t find her green sweater. She had searched her room twice for it to no avail. Her next stop was Dee Dee’s room. Her little sister had called out that she was going to take a shower. Finola could be in and out with Dee being none the wiser. But when she approached her sister’s door, she heard Dee’s voice as she talked on the phone.

“The Spring Fling has come and gone. You better show up.” There was a pause while Dee Dee listened to a reply. “Well, that’s a step in the right direction.” Another pause. “Yes. Today. After school.” She snorted. “I’ve given you everything you need. Wait…”

Finola drew back and held her breath.

“I thought I heard something. I’d better go. Bye.”

Finola waited a moment before deciding to knock on her door. “Dee Dee? Are you decent?”

The younger girl flung open her door. “Yeah. I…changed my mind about the shower.”

“Okay.” When Dee Dee didn’t share anything else, Finola decided to pretend she hadn’t overheard anything. Confronting Dee Dee would probably make them both miserable and late for school.

“Have you seen my green sweater?” she asked instead.

“Um, I think Dad threw it in the wash.”

Finola pulled her lips back into a grimace. She hurried to her father’s bedroom and found a laundry basket of clothes. Her sweater sat on top of the pile. She gave it a delicate sniff. It hadn’t been laundered yet. Breathing a sigh of relief, she rescued it from the basket. Next week was her turn to do the laundry, so she would wash it then.

She hurried back to her room with her find and picked out a gray sweatshirt to wear to school instead. She had just finished slipping it on over her head when she heard Dee Dee’s footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Fi, the bus is coming! Let’s go!”

Exhaling an annoyed sigh, Finola followed her sister downstairs to meet their school bus.

-*-*-

At school, Finola could barely concentrate on her classes. The partial phone conversation she had overheard that morning played through her mind.

Something was going on with her little sister, and it would be happening after school. But when, exactly, and where? And, she thought, with who?

When the final dismissal bell rang, she jockeyed to be among the first students to leave the building. If she could catch Dee Dee and talk to her, or just keep an eye on her until—

“Hey! Finola!”

She started at the familiar but very unexpected sound of Bryan’s voice. She looked in the direction of the student parking lot to her right. He stood next to his black motorcycle parked in a visitor space near the front of the school. He waved an arm over his head in greeting.

Her worry over Dee Dee overshadowed her pleasure at seeing him, but she went over to him anyway. “Bryan, hi.”

He immediately saw that something was troubling her. “Something wrong?” he asked, his own expression sobering.

“It’s Dee Dee,” she admitted. “She might be in some trouble.”

“What?”

Quickly, she explained what she had learned that morning. “I thought I could catch her…” she added, her voice trailing off as her eyes scanned the departing students.

She felt Bryan lay a hand on her arm, drawing her attention back to him.

“Finola, can we talk?”

She opened her mouth, ready to point out that this wasn’t the best time, but something in his eyes told her not to refuse him. She simply nodded.

-*-*-

They sat down on the curb in the shadow of one of the classroom buildings. Bryan was silent for a moment before he began.

“Dee Dee’s not in any trouble,” he assured her. “I was the person she was on the phone with this morning.”

Finola’s lips parted in surprise. “You?”

He held up a hand. “Let me finish. It’s…why I’m here. She was…egging me on, to put it politely.”

Jones nodded. Now that her fear and anxiety had abated somewhat, she did wonder what Bryan was doing at her school.

“I was going to ask you if I could give you a ride home today. But, seeing what you’ve gone through, I’ll just get to it.” He took a deep breath. “I heard that your senior prom is coming up. Would you…would you be interested in going with me?”

She could only stare at him while he fidgeted under her silence.

“The school year is almost over,” he continued. “I’m not going to be Dee Dee’s tutor for much longer, so, we figured it was now or never.”

“‘We?’” she echoed.

He put a hand to the back of his head while a rueful smile crossed his face. “Your sister’s a perceptive person,” he explained. “She could tell I had a crush on you.”

Finola heard her blood roaring in her ears. She felt light-headed. Was this real?

She thought again of Dee Dee’s remarks on the phone in light of this new revelation that Bryan had provided. It made her smile, and then chuckle, which soon became a fit of giggles.

After a few minutes, she got herself back under control, and she laid a hand on Bryan’s shoulder to steady herself.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he pointed out.

“Yes,” she replied. “I would love to go to prom with you. And, yes, I would be glad if you could give me a ride home.” She studied the happy, relieved grin that broke out across his face before adding more gently, “And, yes, I’ve been crushing on you too.”

He smiled softly at that before reaching inside his leather jacket and pulling out two white slips of paper. “I’m really glad to hear you say all that because I bought the prom tickets yesterday.”

“Ah. Was that ‘the step in the right direction?’”

“Well, I think we both know that Dee Dee is a smart young woman.”

She replaced her hand on his shoulder with her cheek as she leaned into him, and she felt him put an arm around her as the shadows lengthened on the ground before them.

-*-*-

Back at her house, Dee Dee was fixing sandwiches for dinner when she got a text from Bryan. It was a selfie of him sitting on his motorcycle with her sister behind him, both of them grinning. The photo was accompanied by two words. “Mission accomplished.”

She smiled to herself and began assembling a third sandwich.

[eddie-sweetheart]

🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Four 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

🏕 Chapters List

Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in a completely different direction.

Warnings • Cursing, possible mentions and/or depictions of violence, sexually suggestive language. Having no idea where this is going myself, you’ll need to be 18+ to read this fic just in case!

Chapter notes • Finally!!! I'm sorry for the delay, but it's been a crazy week and I kept coming up with new scenes that I wanted to include sooo this one needed some extra time! Hope you like it and hope it makes sense lol happy reading lovelies ✨

Chapter word count: 7.9k

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Someone wise once said that mornings are for coffee and contemplation. Add a little bit of extra sleep and that’s the heavenly combination you’d usually be craving as soon as the alarm rings, especially on school days. But not today, apparently.

Last night, after the hike in the summer heat drained you of most of your energies, you drifted to sleep almost immediately after dinner, the sounds of crickets chirping and Robin’s low chatter lulling you into unconsciousness. It was a long, dark, and peaceful sleep, without any kinds of dreams - none that you remember anyways, now that the warm sunlight welcomes you back into another morning at camp.

It must be quite early, because you can still hear Robin’s soft snoring and deep breaths below you as you roll in the white cotton sheets and turn towards the window across the room. You can’t see the sky from where you’re lying, but judging from the light that is growing warmer and more intense by the minute, it’s clearly going to be another hot, sunny day.

You check the wristwatch that you keep hanging on the frame of the bed, and find out that it’s 7 am. Breakfast won’t be ready until 8:30, so you decide to wait a little longer in bed, your legs now free from the sheets and leaning against the old wooden wall of the cabin. A solitary sun ray travels across the room and reaches you, drawing a glimmering streak on your pj top as speckles of dust twirl in its light. 

You check your watch again: 7:03. 

You don’t know why, but you really can’t stay still for much longer - your body refuses to lie down and something inside you feels impatient, and fluttery. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept so well and soundly that you’ve completely recharged your energies, but what’s sure is that today you’re feeling more excited than usual to get up, live the day, do things… see people. 

It almost clicks right there and then, when a small smile cracks through your lips while you play with the dusty air with one of your hands, making it pass back and forth through the glimpse of sunlight hovering above your bed. But, somehow, the excitement suddenly turns into some kind of uncomfortable bitterness, which makes you drop your hand on the mattress with a sigh.

After a few more restless minutes, you shake the feeling off and decide to get up early, for once. Mr. Smithson is surely at the Headquarters already, so you might get this chance to talk to him about Tim and Jason Carver’s brother - a topic that, now that you think about it, it’s better to be addressed as low-key as possible. 

Being as silent as you can (stealthy like a ninja, Steve would say), you climb down your bed, get dressed, quickly scribble a note for Robin to tell her that you’ve gone out and that you’ll see her at breakfast, and you finally sneak out of the cabin. 

The camp is silent, except for the relaxing sounds of nature. You realize that you’ve likely never experienced it with this amount of calm and peace, not even at night - there’s always someone sneaking around, a small cabin reunion or a bonfire going on. But now that it’s early morning and everyone is still asleep, it really feels like a wellness retreat from the chaos and loudness of urban life. 

You stroll straight towards the Headquarters, enjoying the warm air and the freshness of the shadows cast by the trees. As you pass by Steve’s cabin, you throw an unintentional glance at the window, noticing nothing else but darkness. 

Before heading to the meeting room, you stop a minute or two by the lake, your gaze getting lost in the vibrating green leaves reflected on its calm surface. As you graze the refreshingly cold water with the tip of your fingers, you decide in favor of asking Robin to go on a swim later today, maybe during your afternoon break. 

Snap. 

You turn around at the sudden noise coming from behind you, almost losing your balance and ending up with one foot in the water. You’re not scared, not like two nights ago when you found Eddie near the kitchen - but you’re startled nonetheless, so you take a look around. However, as you scan the space between the cabins and the grove surrounding the camp, nothing’s to be seen. So, you decide, it was probably a squirrel or a bird.

You check your watch once again and it’s not long now before everyone wakes up for breakfast, so you need to hurry if you want to catch Mr. Smithson alone. Before leaving, you try to shake some water off your wet tennis shoe, but there’s not much you can do - the damage is done now, so you’ll have to walk around with a soggy foot and let it dry in the sun later.

Trying to ignore the discomfort, you make your way towards the meeting room at the back of the Headquarters. You’re about to knock when the door swings open to reveal a chirpy Mrs. Janet.

“Oh, hello y/n” she exclaims, looking at you with a pleased expression of surprise, “quite the early birds today, are we?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Janet” you greet her back with a smile, “Yeah, I figured I could get up a bit earlier to have a chat with Mr. Smithson”

“Please, do come in, y/n” the director’s voice rises from behind the cook, “There’s still some time before we're being summoned into the dining room by the delicious smell of Mrs. Janet’s pancakes”.

Mrs. Janet happily scoffs as she moves to the side to let you in. “See you later, then, Richard” she exclaims, leaving the door ajar as she heads next door. 

“So” Mr. Smithson addresses you as he shuffles a pile of papers and files together, sitting at the table in the middle of the room. “What can I do for you, y/n?”

You sit down across from him and tell him everything about Tim and Peter Carver, suggesting that it might be useful to move the latter to another cabin. 

Mr. Smithson listens to you attentively, with his hands folded on the table and his head occasionally nodding when he agrees with you. When you’re done talking, he lifts his gaze up towards the ceiling, thinking. 

“I’ll talk to the rest of the staff about this” he finally decides, looking back at you with a smile, “so we can decide together the best course of action. In the meantime, thank you for telling me - you did the right thing, as we want to keep this camp a safe space for everyone. Now” he concludes, throwing a glance at the clock on the wall, “I believe it’s time for pancakes. You can go, I’ll catch up soon”. 

You nod in agreement, matching his smile as you get up and thank him before heading towards the door, which is still slightly open from when Mrs. Janet left. As you step outside, you suddenly remember that you didn’t mention the black vines and the hole in the ground to Mr. Smithson. But, as you move to go back inside, a familiar voice gets your attention. 

“Didn’t know you were a snitch”. 

You turn towards the sound, which is coming from your left, and find Patrick leaning against the outer wall of the meeting room, between the window and the door. You’re startled for a second, but as you realize it’s him your expression hardens. 

“I don’t see how what I do or say is any of your business” you state, crossing your arms on your chest. You’re feeling the resentment bubbling up inside you as you speak.

“Fair point” Patrick scoffs, cocking one eyebrow up in disdain. “I guess it’s not my business that you’re hanging out with freaks now, either”

The clear reference to Eddie makes your cheeks turn red with anger. He’s probably used to being called a freak, and he might even joke about it - but you remember the hint of self-deprecation when he mentioned all the names he’s been called, and even if he’s brave enough to claim them and turn them into titles to exorcise their original meaning, it doesn’t mean that you’ll let your ex insult him for free. 

“Could say the same thing about you” you talk back to Patrick, “but I’m not out there ambushing you to wine about your new friends”.

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t visit them at night, y/n” Patrick blurts out, taking a step towards you. “I saw you, earlier, coming from Munson’s cabin. What were you looking for in the lake, huh? Your lost dignity?”

You’re so taken aback at his blatantly misplaced accusations that you’re left speechless, but you snap back into reality as soon as he grabs you by an arm and drags you behind the corner of the building. You know he did it to avoid Mr. Smithson - who's now coming out of the meeting room to head to the kitchen - but it does nothing but enrage you even more.

“Don’t you dare touch me again” you hiss at him, “and don’t even try to pull that bullshit on me. If your stupid little jock brain didn’t notice, all cabins are on the same two paths, so, hello? I just walked in front of Harrington’s. But I’m not going to explain myself to you any further - and for god’s sake, stop. stalking. me.” you conclude, taking a breath.

Patrick blushes violently, his mouth hanging open as he realizes just how pathetic he sounds. You know he’ll never be like Jason, because all it took was a little resistance to his attempts at bullying to make him crumble like a sandcastle.

In the meantime, campers have started to emerge from their cabins, as it’s finally time for breakfast. You can see them right around the corner, grouping in front of the Headquarters porch - and, among them, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wavy shag.

“Y/n” Patrick addresses you, his tone hard and arrogant once again, but with a new hint of insecurity in it. “You really should think twice about who hang out with”.

You bring your eyes back to him, your gaze icy as you stare at his face. “Yeah, try telling that to yourself” you reply, firmly putting an end to the conversation. Then, you move to walk past him, just to find his hand tight around your arm once again.

“I mean it, y/n” Patrick whispers in your ear, his voice almost trembling as he squeezes you hard.

A little farther away, Eddie notices you struggling against Patrick’s grip. Your eyes lock with his for a second, and you see him taking a few steps in your direction. At the realization of what might occur, you shrug Patrick’s off of you, giving up on talking back or blurting out a remark - you just want to get out of there without anyone else getting involved.

You move quickly towards the Headquarters, passing by Eddie. You really don’t feel like explaining what has happened, so you just give him a small smile and a wave and steer clear of him. He softly smiles back and watches you walk away.

— 🏕 —

“Come on, it’s definitely not freezing!” Steve exclaims, watching Robin retreat on the pier after dipping the tip of her toes in Lovers Lake’s waters. 

It’s early in the afternoon and, even if it’s still the beginning of June, it already feels like full-on summer. Popsicles melt at the speed of light, birds and squirrels hide in the cool shadow of the trees until sunset, campers only play sports in the early hours of the morning, ditching them for quieter board or card games when the sun is at its highest point in the sky - and, of course, as soon as any counselor has a slot of free time, they use it to find some much needed refreshment in the cold waters of the lake.

And that’s exactly what you and Robin planned on doing now, after spending the whole morning getting hand cramps while making friendship bracelets with a group of camper girls. You actually didn’t mind the activity, as you loved trying different shapes and motives with the colorful threads; you even made one for yourself, pink and light green with tiny white flowers, matching Robin’s light blue one. However, the idea of taking a swim and getting rid of the never-ending, always-flowing sweat pearling on your exposed skin and giving a break to your tired fingers really felt like an alternative worth pursuing. 

Robin definitely agreed - at least until you reached the shore of the lake after lunch, beach towel in hand and swimsuit on, and tested the water. It was then that Robin absolutely changed her mind, striding towards the pier to the tune of “I’m not going to get a congestion, not today”.

You trailed behind her with a roll of your eyes and a smile, guessing that persuading her to get in the lake with you would be easier after some basking in the sun. It was still you, however, the one sitting with your legs dangling in the fresh water when Steve Harrington swam towards you from the shore. Miraculously, he had the same free time break as you, so he has now joined your mission to convince Robin to be brave and dive in - with scarce success, indeed.

“Nope” Robin protests, sitting back on her towel, drops of sweat on her forehead betraying her need for refreshment. “I’m not risking it, not yet. I’m not fully trusting your first aid skills in case my stomach freezes and I get cramps and drown” she blurts out at Steve, looking at you with raised eyebrows to find some support.

You sigh affectionately, leaning back from your own seat to pat her knee. “Take your time, Robin” you tell her, before removing your sunglasses and placing them next to her, away from the edge of the pier, “But I’m going in, if you don’t mind”.

“As you wish, dingus” she exclaims, turning her body to lay on her stomach. “Just let me know what you’d like to write on your tombstone” she adds with a smirk as you get up and take a deep breath before diving in.

The sudden cold takes your breath away as you float underwater, the bubbles from your dive fizzling around you. For a few seconds, time slows down and you enjoy the peaceful feeling of being suspended in the dark water - then, with a kick of your feet, you emerge back on the surface, the sun warming your face as you wipe your eyes and open them again. 

“Is it that bad?” Steve eagerly asks you, swimming closer in case you need some help - being less salty than the sea, it’s slightly harder to stay afloat in lake water, but you’re okay. 

You can’t help but shiver for a second, earning a victorious “Ah-ha!” From Robin. “Actually” you address her, “it’s a bit of a shock at first, but you get used to it in a second”. 

You hang out like that for a while, chatting in the water as Steve occasionally displays his swimming skills, earning approving (and slightly mocking) claps from both you and Robin. He shakes his hair every time he re-emerges, lake water droplets shooting in your direction and causing Robin to yell at him to “stop acting like a damn puppy”. 

After a while, though, even Robin surrenders to the heat. After a painfully slow ritual consisting of dipping one single body part at a time in the lake, she finally joins you in the water - still refusing to admit that it’s quite a manageable temperature. 

“So, besides hiking, sports and making friendship bracelets, what else are we going to do all summer?” Steve asks, passing one hand through his wet but still incredibly good looking hair. 

You and Robin exchange a look, not knowing where to start with the list. 

“Well” Robin begins, “there are cooking classes, painting lessons, board game nights… if the projector is still working after Gareth crashed into it last year, we might do a couple of outdoor movie nights as well”. 

“And, if you’re lucky, don’t forget hike number two and three” you chip in, “be sure that you’ll know every single flower and leaf on that path by the time September comes”. 

“You always take the same route?” Steve asks, “you’ve never gone on a different one?”

“We tried asking the director last year” Robin replies, kicking her feet in the water, “but he said it’s better to stay on the trail we counselors know best, just in case something happens. And guess what? Nothing ever happens”. 

Your mind flashes back to the image of the dark roots and the hole in the ground. You figure that, since you completely forgot to mention it to Mr. Smithson, you could maybe tell Robin and Steve and see if they believe it’s something worth sharing. 

“Well, I actually noticed something yesterday” you begin, Steve's and Robin’s eyes now on you. “Eddie and I were walking back when I tripped on a root. I checked it out and it led us to a sort of… hole? In the ground? It wasn’t properly a cave, but it was big enough to fit a small kid. And there were black, slimy vines coming out of it - I’ve never seen anything like that, and I’ve passed by that spot enough times, for sure”. 

Robin hums as she ponders on your words, while Steve’s expression grows more curious and his face gets almost imperceptibly paler. 

“Black vines?” He asks you, his voice slightly trembling, “with slime on them?” 

“Something like that, yes” you reply, wondering if he knows more about it. “Why, have you seen them too?”

Steve shakes his head, his gaze lingering in the bright blue sky. “Mmmh, nope, didn’t notice” he replies, grazing the surface of the water with the palm of his hands, “Was that the spot before the path running downhill to the lake?”

“Yeah, exactly”, you confirm with a sure nod.

Water drops run down Steve’s forehead as he passes a hand through his hair. “Weird” he says, “I was there last night and I didn’t see anything. Maybe it was too dark-“

“What the hell were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?” Robin interrupts him, splashing him in the face.

Steve turns to her, color coming back to his cheeks. “I was taking a walk” he replies, almost too casually.

“Alone?” Robin echoes him, eyes narrowed with curiosity.

“Uh, no, actually” Steve coughs, “I was with Tammy Thompson”.

Robin’s eyes widen visibly as she turns towards you. “See? I told you” she almost yells, punching the water to underline her annoyance.

“What?” Steve exclaims, dropping his hands in frustration.

“Oh, nothing, Steve” Robin replies, a full-on fake smile plastered on her face, “But you can call me Cassandra from now on”.

“Who’s Cassandra?” Steve asks you with a confused look, “Do I know her?”

You’re refraining from exploding into a heartfelt laugh at their exchange, but you manage to stay serious even when Robin mutters out a stressed “Jesus”.

“Sorry to break it to you, Steve” you tell him, patting his shoulder, “but she’s a mythological lady. You can’t date her”.

“But you still have Tammy Thompson, if you need to spend the night with someone” Robin chips in, “if you haven’t already - spent the night with her, I mean”.

Steve scoffs, splashing some water in her direction. “I’m not like that” he talks back, “I’m a gentleman. I would never impose myself on someone I barely know. We just talked, walked around a bit-“

“Exchanged some saliva” Robin interjects under her breath, a smirk appearing on her lips at Steve’s frustration. Her growing amusement is a clear sign that she’s already gotten over the initial blow.

“…and that’s it” Steve remarks, “I walked her to her cabin and I went back to mine. Because I’m a responsible guy, and I didn’t want to be late”.

“That’s a good boy” Robin jokes, pushing him slightly, but making him smile a little. “So your secret for staying this handsome is getting lots of beauty sleep, uh?”

“I wish” Steve replies with a sigh. “I actually slept like shit because I had to endure Munson’s flashlight all night. When I came back he was scribbling something into a notebook and he might as well have fallen asleep at dawn, because I had to drag him out of bed or he’d have missed breakfast”.

At the mention of Eddie, your attention peaks.

“Did you see what he was writing?” You ask Steve, tiny waves of water rippling around you as you swim towards the pier - the sun is starting to lower on the horizon and the water is now cold, rather than refreshing. 

“Honestly, I didn’t even try” Steve replies, following you and athletically lifting himself up on the wooden platform. “It’s not like it’s any of my business, you know? And maybe he wasn’t even writing, he could have been doodling or whatever”.

“Maybe he keeps a diary” Robin suggests, grabbing your hand as you help her up. 

“Could be” Steve observes, “even if I don’t see what could possibly be so interesting that he has to write about it all night”.

“Maybe it was music” you suggest, throwing your towel around your shivering shoulders. “He’s in a band, you know”.

Steve and Robin both look at you, eyebrows up in surprise. 

“And how would you know that?” Robin asks. 

You shrug casually. “We talked a bit” you reply as you start walking back towards the cabins. The others follow quickly after you. 

“Talked like Steve talked to Tammy?” Robin elbows you, her question followed by an annoyed scoff from Steve. 

“Ew, Robin" you instinctively reply, “of course not”. 

Robin puts her hands up in defense. “Okay, sorry for suggesting that you may like someone - you know it’s not a crime, right?” She observes, throwing one arm around your shoulders, “I mean, it’s not like I trust your taste in guys that much, but you’re the one who always tries to convince me that he’s such a good guy-"

You throw her a burning glare that makes the words die in her mouth, but you can’t stop the knowing smirk that has just formed on her lips. 

“You could ask him tonight” Steve suggests once you reach his cabin. You throw a quick glance in its direction and realize that it’s empty - and you don’t know if you feel relieved or disappointed. 

“What do you mean?” You ask Steve as your mind goes back to his suggestion, your hands tightening the towel around your body as a light gust of wind makes its way through the trees. 

Steve crosses his arms on his chest, tilting his head as he speaks again. “About what he was writing. You could ask him tonight at the bonfire”. 

You still can’t follow, so you turn to Robin with an inquisitive look - but her shaking head reveals that she has no clue as well. 

“Oh, yeah right, I haven’t told you” Steve adds once he’s met by your confused eyes. “Jeff told me they’re planning to have a bonfire night” he explains, “it was that other guy’s idea - Gareth, I think he’s called. Munson will be there too, and when they came to our cabin to plan it, Jeff invited me. He said that I could bring you two as well and that there will be booze, so I figured why not”. 

“How come you’ve just got here and you’re already making more social connections than us?” Robin asks him, “Thanks for the invite, though. I’m bringing marshmallows” she adds as she begins walking away, brushing past Steve with a shake of her head. 

You move to follow her, but you don’t leave before sticking a finger at Steve. “I’m coming, but I’m not asking him anything” you specify, eager to make it clear that you have no interest in meddling with Eddie’s business - and, privacy, for all that you know. 

Steve puts his hands up, not a care in the world. “As you wish, y/n”. 

— 🏕 —

The lively and vibrant mood of Camp Lovers Lake doesn’t disappear during the night - instead, it transforms into a different kind of atmosphere. 

As you and Robin sneak out of your cabin, flashlights still turned off in your hands, you can’t help but smile at your surroundings, apparently calm and peaceful as a dreamless night, but secretly awake with young life. Everyone is supposed to be asleep, but here and there little flashes of light glitter in the dark, peaking from half-drawn curtains and ajar wooden doors. Every now and then, a faint giggle echoes through the trees, followed by the rustling of leaves as pairs of tennis shoes tiptoe on the shadowy edge of the two paths running through the cabins.

You perfectly know that campers are sneaking around and meeting in each other’s cabin, some of them occasionally wandering in the closer areas of the grove around camp. But you haven’t always been a counselor, of course: you remember your own camper days so well that, with an unspoken understanding with the rest of the team, you let them be - knowing that they are perfectly aware of the consequences of getting caught or lost (and surely no camper wants to be either) while you’re ready to step in if necessary. After all, you’re sneaking around as well - but this time with a six-pack under your arm, which you very innocently smuggled among your clothes when you were packing, thankfully without your mother noticing.

Robin’s elbow gently nudges your side and brings your attention to the now completely dark Headquarters, standing wide and wooden at the end of the empty trail in front of you. You two have been crouching behind a tree for some time, waiting for the official lights-out that has just occurred - followed like clockwork by the chirpy chattering of the director and the rest of the staff, who are now closing the main door of the building before heading towards their own separate rooms at the back of camp. Apparently, they’ve been hanging after hours as well - probably sipping on that badly hidden Scotch you’ve spotted behind the oil cans in the kitchen.

“You’ve wanted to wait here and now I’m all cranky” Robin whispers under her breath, “at least pay attention - they’re gone”.

“Tell me how we were supposed to spot the lights going off from our room” you remark as you straighten up, peaking behind the tree to check if the road is clear.

Robin attempts to speak, but ends up opting for a grunt as you gently grab her wrist and make her follow you into the dark. You walk silently towards the Headquarters, turning right towards the bathrooms when you reach the end of the path.

Next to the separate wooden structure that hides the camp showers, three intermittent flashes of light announce Steve’s presence. Being the gentleman that he is, he suggested Jeff and the others go ahead and start setting up the fire while he waited for you - a very gallant gesture that also allowed him to take a few extra minutes to complete his hair routine. 

As soon as you and Robin spot him, you close the distance between you and him with a few more steps, until you’re all grouped up at the edge of the woods.

“Ten sharp - perfect timing” Steve announces, his eyes briefly glancing at his wristwatch as he spins the flashlight in his other hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yup. We’ll lead the way” Robin enthusiastically replies, quickly throwing and catching in the air a bag of marshmallows before opening it and picking one to nibble at while you walk. 

“Jeff told me the spot is on the shore - are we going in the right direction?” Steve hesitates as he realizes that you’re moving towards the trees and bushes across from the Headquarters.

“Dear Steve” Robin addresses him, her grin shining in the night as she turns her head around to face him, “do I really need to remind you that it’s not the first time we’re heading to a secret bonfire, so we’re going to take the shortcut counselors have been using for years to reach the only spot near the lake that is not visible from camp so that no one notices that we’re setting up an illegal fire?”

You let out a small chuckle as you catch Steve’s surrendering look in the flashlight gleam, wondering what he would say if he knew that yes, you and Robin have taken that path before, but just to find some privacy and silence to read or chat without anyone interrupting - and that this was, actually, your first time at a secret bonfire, too. 

Not that you and Robin didn’t have friends at camp. You knew basically everyone and often participated in counselor-only events like horror movie nights or board game tournaments in the meeting room. But you’d never formed a closer group of friends, an inner circle to share other kinds of experiences with - like adventures that weren’t exactly allowed or performed in the daylight, such as late-night swimming or, indeed, lakeside bonfires. 

It was mostly because you and Robin got along so well and had known each for such a long time that you enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s, cracking inner jokes or laughing at shared memories. But it was also hard to get closer to others (campers first and counselors later) when every friendship circle was, by now, clearly defined. It was a bit like school, to be honest.

That’s why you've brought the six-pack with you this year: together with Robin, you've made the decision to expand your duo a little, and alcohol seemed like the perfect excuse to do so. Sure, hanging out with Steve Harrington this much wasn’t exactly what you expected - even if he was inexplicably close to your brother Dustin, you’d never shared more than a few words and greetings with him and he’d always looked a bit too much on the popular side for you. But, since he seems to be a well-fitting addition to your small group, you guess that he can count as a new friend. He is, after all, a nice dude.

While you reflect on this, you keep walking in the dark, making your way through the vegetation that has been running uphill for the last few minutes.

“Got it” Robin exclaims after a while, grabbing a tree branch for support as she lowers herself to climb down a small crag on the side of the path, back towards the lake. 

Through the now sparse woods, you catch a glimpse of bright red light and you overhear laughter and chatter. You’ve finally reached the bonfire spot and, as you reach out to grab the same tree branch Robin has just used, your heart skips a little beat - which, for now, you blame on the excitement of doing something new and forbidden. 

“Need help there?” Steve proposes, holding out his hand for you to take, but you’re already down with Robin. “Okay, then” Steve shrugs, shaking his head at the rejection as he climbs down and catches up with you. 

You scramble through the last few bushes and finally get back into the open air. This side of the lake looks like a little cove: the shore curves softly towards the hill at your back, creating a short but thick strip of sand and pebbles that’s blocked at its sides by big rocks scattered with wild plants. 

You can’t see the few permanent lights of camp from here, which means two things essentially: first, your group and the fire that’s blazing in the middle of the cove can’t be seen, either; second, as your gaze lifts up to the pitch black sky, a myriad of glittering stars invade your eyes, making your head spin with their beauty and multitude as you walk towards the trio waiting for you around the bonfire.  

“Hey guys! You made it!” the boy that must be Jeff exclaims, welcoming you as soon as he spots you. When he speaks, two other figures turn away from the fire and in your direction, revealing Gareth and Eddie with a beer in their hands.

You timidly wave at them and your heart unexpectedly skips a beat once again. Gareth waves back with a warm and kind smile, a slight contrast to his very metal and not-so-summer-camp look: a black and red checkered shirt with ripped sleeves, layered over a Black Sabbath t-shirt. You’ve never seen him without the camp uniform, so it takes you aback a little bit - but not as much as seeing Eddie does. 

He’s standing tall against the red light of the fire, a black and worn-out leather jacket draped on his broad shoulders, shielding him from the cool breeze that’s rustling his long curls. Underneath the jacket, you catch a glimpse of a t-shirt with a devilish logo on it, the thin cotton clinging to his abdomen and tucked into his jeans. A denim vest adorned with multiple pins and patches completes the look, somehow making him look even taller and broader. 

He looks like the ultimate version of himself, one that makes him feel more confident and in his element, and it’s showing - in his stance, in the way his head slightly tilts while taking a sip of his beer, in the way his fingers drum on the glass of the bottle, which tinkles against the steel of his rings. For the first time since you’ve known him a few days ago, you clearly realize how good he looks. Especially when he throws you one of his upside-down grins to return your wave. 

“Yeah man, thanks for the invite” Steve replies to Jeff’s greeting, snapping you back into the moment as he high-fives and fist-bumps him like they’ve known each other for years. 

Both Eddie and Robin look at the exchange with eyebrows raised and a surprised look, before glancing at each other inquisitively. 

Steve mouths a curious “what?” in their direction as you all step closer to the fire, taking a seat on random rocks and battered trunks that the guys have placed around the flames. 

Your six-pack is placed near the water, so that the slow, cold waves refresh the cans with their constant flow; three more beers from another pack are handed to you by Gareth and Robin’s marshmallows get stuck on thin branches that Jeff collected from the woods, ready to burn and sizzle on the fire. 

You’re sitting on a tree trunk next to Steve and, after a while, you end up discussing animatedly with him and Gareth about the best movie of the year - a match that has come down to Steve’s choice, Back To The Future, and yours and Gareth’s pick, the upcoming The Goonies. 

“How can you vote for a movie that you haven’t even seen yet?” Steve’s exclaiming, but you distractedly miss Gareth’s heated remark as you throw a casual glance at Eddie. 

He’s sitting on a flat rock to your left, so you can only see his side profile. The flames of the bonfire cast flashes of red and orange on his face, in a dancing game of shadows and light that enhances his features. He’s talking with Jeff and Robin about music and guitar brands, his hands fiddling with a pack of cigarettes. Your eyes follow his fingers and the glittering reflection of the fire on his multiple rings as he extracts one and places it between his lips. His eyebrows shoot up as he laughs at something Robin says, lips jerking up in a smirk that shows the brown tip of the cigarette between his white teeth.

You unconsciously match his smirk with a small smile of your own as he bows his head a little to light the cigarette, the tiny flame flickering for a few seconds in his deep brown eyes. As he lifts his head back up, wavy hair bouncing at the side of his face, their chocolate irises turn to meet yours for a brief instant - making you blush in the dark as you snap back to Steve and Gareth’s conversation. 

“If you put it like this” Gareth is saying, “then I’ll go for Cat’s Eye”. 

Steve firmly shakes his head as he takes a bite of his burnt marshmallow, chasing it with a sip of beer. “Never heard of that one” he states as he gulps the mix. 

“Are you crazy?” Gavin sighs, “Three Stephen King stories and Drew Barrymore? That’s the recipe for the perfect horror movie”. 

Steve shrugs. “Not a big fan of horror, to be honest” he replies. “Not my genre. It’s not even that scary most of the time”. 

“I bet you couldn’t go through a full horror movie, though” you joke, nudging Steve's side and causing him to look down at you with a defiant look. 

“Try me” he simply states, causing you to roll your eyes with a scoff. 

“It’s not like we have a VHS player and a tv at hand right now” you reply, sipping on the last of your beer. 

Gareth chips in with a mischievous smile, nodding towards Steve. “I think I might have just the right alternative. Hey, Eddie” he exclaims, causing his friend, Jeff and Robin to turn towards you. “Why don’t you tell Harrington about Creel House?”.

An owl hoots in the background as Eddie stares at Gareth with a questioning look, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth. “Like, right now? Why?”

“Y/n here said Harrington wouldn’t last through a horror movie” Gareth explains, throwing you a complicit wink, “so let’s give him a chance to prove her wrong. If there’s something as scary as a horror film, that’s our very own, real-life haunted house”. 

“There’s a haunted house in Hawkins?” Robin curiously wonders as she stuffs her mouth with a couple more marshmallows.

Jeff looks at her in surprise. “You’ve really never heard of it?” He asks, his eyes darting between her, Steve and you just to be met by hesitant denial from every direction.

“Alright then, ladies and gentlemen” Eddie sighs, putting out the half-smoked cigarette, “let me present to you a story of satanic worship, ritual sacrifice… and murder. Told to you as my own uncle Wayne told it to me” he theatrically declares, placing his now empty bottle of beer on the ground as everyone huddles closer to the fire - and to each other. Which means that now you can feel the thick denim of Eddie’s jeans brush lightly against your skin, as his knee grazes your leg for a second.

“Imagine Hawkins back in 1959” Eddie begins, his voice lowering and almost becoming one with the crackling of the fire, the chirping of the crickets in the woods behind you and the soft sound of the water washing up on the shore of the lake. “Everything all tidy and clean, front yards perfectly well kept, people always dressed up with their best clothes. A very nice place, quiet and neat - and very beautiful new houses popping up at every corner and at the end of every cul-de-sac. A small town paradise, you could say”.

You listen attentively to his every word, the lilt in his voice and the ever-changing movements of his hands capturing you in the story. 

“One day, a new family comes to the delightful, safe haven of Hawkins - Mr. Victor Creel, with his wife Virginia and his little kids Henry and Alice. They’ve just bought a beautiful house, and it’s huuuge. There are rooms everywhere, and they settle in nicely. But-“ Eddie continues, his index finger shooting up as he speaks, “something is not quite right. After a month or two, one dreadful night changes everything: possessed by a sudden, maddening rage, Victor Creel slashes his whole family - not even the kids make it out alive. When the police arrive, they find them in the entrance hall and oooh boy, that’s a dreadful scene: every bone in their body is broken and twisted, their faces frozen in a cry of horror… and their eyes are gone in a pool of blood”.

As he suddenly roars those last words, he lifts up his arms and covers each one of his eyes with one hand. Across from you, Robin gasps loudly, causing Jeff and Gareth to snicker under their breath. Next to you, Steve seems quite unfazed.

“The official version of the event that the police came up with is that he lost his mind, just like that” Eddie says with a snap of his fingers as he picks up the story again, his sing-song tone back to normal. “So that is why he’s locked up into Pennhurst, where they are still studying his case today. However, some suggest a different story - and one of them is Victor Creel himself”.

“That’s my favorite part” Gareth chips in, popping another bottle of beer open as Eddie resumes speaking, the flames of the bonfire glittering in his eyes.

“Mr. Creel claims that his family was killed by an evil, vengeful demon” Eddie reveals, nodding as Robin whispers a soft no way. “He says that he tried to call an exorcist, but it didn’t help. So, the demon got even angrier and killed his lovely kids and wife, sparing him as a form of punishment. So, what is the truth? Did he attempt to summon a spirit and it turned wrong? Did he make a pact with the devil and didn’t respect his terms? Was he just a crazy psychopath always one step away from murder? No one will ever know” Eddie concludes, his gaze going over the astonished audience with satisfaction.

“What’s even crazier, though” Gareth steps in, addressing a still unimpressed Steve, “is that the old house is still standing. And some people swear that sometimes, when you pass by it on the street after sunset, you can see flickering lights coming from its broken windows. Even if no one’s been living there for years”.

“Well, that’s strange” you observe, a shiver involuntary running down your spine - probably due more to Eddie’s storytelling skills than to the actual story. 

Steve shrugs in response. “I’ve seen stranger things” he replies, his voice apparently calm - but you catch the way in which, at the mention of the flickering lights, he tightens his grasp on a piece of wood sticking out from the trunk where you’re sitting.

“Well done, Steve Harrington! You’ve passed the test” Robin jokes, throwing a piece of candy at Steve - which he manages to avoid with a swift movement of his head.

“Was that really necessary?” He questions her, pointing at the marshmallow on the ground as they start bickering under the amused looks of Jeff and Gareth.

A gentle nudge on your leg makes your head turn.

“Scared?” Eddie simply asks you, the light from his tilted smile reaching his eyes as they set on yours. His knee doesn’t move: it keeps leaning against your thigh, and even if it’s just a tiny contact spot you can still feel the heat of his body warming you up.

“It was creepy, I’ll give you that” you reply, the thought of him being so close to you weirdly stuck in the back of your mind. “But I think the scared one was actually Robin” you add, nodding towards her - who’s still arguing with Steve about the stickiness of marshmallows.

Eddie follows your gaze and lets out a soft chuckle at the sight of your friends, then quickly turns his attention back to you. This time, however, he’s staring at your exposed legs.

“Oh, but I see chills” he observes with a knowing smirk as he notices the tiny bumps on your skin. “That’s a pretty obvious sign, y’know?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Munson” you jokingly retort, this time nudging him with your leg, “they’re from the cold”. 

It could have sounded like a blatant excuse, but it’s gotten quite chilly since you first arrived at the bonfire spot - so, yes, now you’re shivering slightly and wishing you’d brought more than a cotton sweatshirt to camp. It also doesn’t help that the fire is significantly milder, its flames almost reduced to a cluster of burning embers.

After a while, indeed, everyone starts feeling the drop in the temperature too - and as soon as the first yawns start interrupting your conversations, you realize it’s probably time to head back.

So, once you’ve made sure that the bonfire is completely extinguished, with Gareth even throwing a handful of sand and some lake water on the burnt wood, you start heading back towards the trail that leads to camp. 

If coming down from the downhill that led to the shore was relatively easy, climbing back up to get to the woods is definitely harder. Eddie and Gareth go first, grabbing random branches to get some leverage and push themselves up; Steve and Jeff, instead, stay behind to let watch yours and Robin’s back. 

You take a few steps ahead, Eddie and Gareth looking down on you and reaching out with their hands. “I think I can make it” you say, closing your fist on a thick branch and sticking a foot in the steep ground in front of you. You manage to lift yourself up and almost make it to them - but as you’re about to put your other foot to the top, the branch suddenly snaps, making you gasp in shock.

You don’t fall back, though. A hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, swiftly pulling you up and making you crash into something soft - which, you soon realize, is Eddie’s chest. 

“Got ya” he says, letting you free of his grasp once he’s made sure you’re steady on your feet. Caught in surprise, you instantly take a step back - but the feeling of the softness of his body beneath the cotton of his shirt is burned on the palm of your hands.

“Thanks” you mutter, stepping aside to let Robin come up and mentally scolding yourself for being, once again, way too clumsy. And, also, desperately wondering why you’re blushing so violently. 

Thankfully, though, it’s too dark for anyone to notice; and as you all make your way back to your cabins, the night grows even more pitch black. Until, a few hours later, the first slivers of faint yellow light start lingering over the horizon.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist •  @meaganjm @emwhite1 @juggernort @final-girllll @mermemerald @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @stardustworlds @eddiesbirdie @carolineesnell

[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[infernal-fire]

Just The Benefits (1/2)

Pairings: dark!Steve x you

Warnings: smut, slight overstimulation, dark!Steve, dark!Nomad!Steve

Later in the series: noncon, breeding kink, slight degradation kink, slight praise kink, mentioned dark!Tony, dark!Bucky

Please do not interact with this blog if you are under 18. Your media consumption is your responsibility. 

Summary: Y/N wanted the benefits and nothing more. That was the agreement… right? Steve decides it’s not enough.

Word Count: 1600

A/N: This is my first ever fic! I’m really hoping you’ll enjoy this but I also appreciate all feedback <3 I’m planning a second instalment for the fic, which will be longer than this one. I’m out here pretending like someone is going to read this. 

Nomad!Steve is the most attractive Steve and you can talk to a wall if you disagree. 

(This GIF does not belong to me)

It was convenient. The idea of no strings attached was that it was always supposed to be easy and mutually beneficial. You were enjoying the life of an Avenger and there’s no need to add anything to the mix. 

That’s how you found yourself under Steve’s mercy every week. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel anything for him but right now, all you could think about was making sure you didn’t tap out from his girth. 

You were bent over his king-size bed, stuffed full of his cock. He cooed praises into your ears and took on a languid pace. He pressed your head down with one arm, wiping your tears on the sheets, wrapping the other around your waist. His cock was moving in and out of you like a piston, making a squelching noise that your loud moaning drowned out. 

“Sweetheart, I’m going to speed up” he moaned, and you whimpered in response. His speed had you lurching forward on every thrust, the room reverberating with the sound of skin slapping. 

His cock repeatedly battered your cervix, which was becoming more sensitive by the second. You cried out as your eyes crossed and your muscles went limp, the crashing waves of your orgasm possessing you. 

“That’s it, baby, cream my cock. I’m so close.” his grunts filled your ears as he leaned over you. The hand that was holding your head made its way to your neck and he pulled you up flush against him while the other hand began toying with your engorged clit. You were full-on crying from the overstimulation now; he hadn’t slowed down since you came. You were on your tippy-toes, trying to alleviate the pressure on your abused cunt. 

After a few more thrusts, he pushed in one last time and squeezed your body before giving you some experimental thrusts. He pulled out and held your almost-passed-out frame by the hips and lifted you onto the bed. 

“Jesus Y/N was I too rough?” You weakly shook your head as you closed your eyes and held his hand. He tucked you into his sheets, tossed the condom across the room and rounded the bed, settling beside you. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you mumbled. 

He paused as if he were pondering what he was going to say. In reality, he began taking in your naked, tired form that looked unreal yet ethereal on his bed. With your back to Steve, you had no idea he was feasting on the sight in front of him. 

“What is it?” the slight raspiness of your voice alluded to your exhaustion. 

“I don’t want to be friends with benefits anymore.”

You turned around to face him and propped yourself up on your elbow. The surprise of his statement was overriding your body’s pleas to sleep.

“Did I… do something?” You were honestly unsure of what to say.

He paused again. “It’s not enough for me. I know we came into this saying no strings attached but I care way too much for you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. Steve took your silence as a cue to continue. 

“I think I love you. No, I-I know I love you. I want the whole thing with you, not just sex. I’m tired of pretending I’m okay with just sex. You know, I had feelings for you before you agreed to this. I had a feeling you might not say yes to a serious relationship so I proposed this arrangement.”

His speech initially started with uncertainty but as he spoke, he became sure of himself. He was sure you would agree. You two were perfect together and there was no denying it in Steve’s mind. 

You got out of bed and began rummaging through the clothes strewn on the ground.

“I cannot believe you asked me to do this with your feelings involved. That was very manipulative and…” you trailed off. Did you want this? No. He messed with you. You affirmed it to yourself and picked up the rest of your clothes. “You were manipulative and this isn’t going to happen anymore. I told you I didn’t want a relationship to cloud my judgement with my missions.” 

“Where are you going?” he began getting out bed, panic slightly evident in his voice.

You weren’t going to cry. But you were slightly hurt that he had a hidden agenda and that you were too stupid to not notice it. You turned to leave before he gripped your forearm. 

“I know you’re angry, but you want this too.” He towered over you. The unexpected calm in his voice was unsettling. 

“You’re scaring me, please let go.” He let you break out of his hold. 

“FRIDAY, lock my doors and don’t open unless I say so,” he commanded.

He was beginning to chip at your resolve but you were determined to not show it. You glared at him again instead. 

“FRIDAY, contact Tony and tell him Cap locked me in his room.”

He stared at you and stared back. Under the façade of toughness, you were crumbling and scared out of your mind. You didn’t want to stay and find out why he locked the door. What could he do when the entire team would question your whereabouts the next day?

The seconds stretched on before he finally spoke again. “You’re making a mistake. You want this.”

“Tony has overridden your request, Steve. Y/N, the door is now unlocked.” FRIDAY called out. 

You turned and speed-walked out of the room, not turning back to look at Steve who was now lowly chuckling to himself. 

He wondered if you really thought this was the end of this conversation. 

You turned to your missions to help you cope with the loss of one of your best friendships. You give men a little bit of space in your life and they think you owe them the world. Worst of all, you should’ve seen this coming. Little touches, smiles that always reached his eyes and hugs that lasted a little longer they should. Not mentioning walking you to your room after training, making your breakfast and taking special care of you after a particularly difficult mission. You were truly a fool for not realizing it sooner.

Everyone is scared of something, even the Avengers. For you, it was this new side of Steve. You weren’t even sure how to act around him anymore. The relationship was on the low and not many people knew about it; Bucky knew for sure, and now, Tony must have an idea as well. Tony didn’t ask you why Cap locked you in your room. That should have been the first red flag that your teammates weren’t on your side. 

You proceeded as if things were normal around Steve and he did too. There was no reason not to, right? He just acted out because of the rejection, you thought to yourself.

All the Avengers sitting down for dinner was a rare occurrence, but this particular Friday, there was a crowd in the dining room of the compound. 

You were happy today. Your paperwork had been a breeze and you had a good weekend planned for yourself. Around the table, Tony, Rhodey, Thor were bickering, Clint and Nat were silently observing while Steve and Bucky were engrossed in a private conversation of their own. 

“After dinner, we should play a game” Sam piped up through a mouthful. Clint snickered to himself and Sam continued.

“I’m serious, we should play truth or dare… something like that. I barely know anything about you guys, minus things like your favourite way to take a target out.”

“I think it should stay that way” Nat slightly grinned and continued eating. 

“Honestly, I agree, I feel like I know nothing about you guys,” you commented, wiping your mouth and clearing your empty plate. Tony grabbed it for you and made his way to the sink. “I wasn’t aware that we were in high school. But tell you what; hide and seek would be interesting with this crowd.” Tony contemplated before finishing his thought: “Barnes and Romanoff should try to find us. That would be a kicker.”

“That sounds a lot better than truth or dare. I’m game” Nat said before getting and stretching. Bucky quietly chuckled and everyone began to clean up the table. 

“So this is really happening?” Rhodey laughed as everyone made their way to the living room. 

Bucky and Nat stood in front of everyone and negotiated rules. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how blessed you were to be a part of something so amazing.

“Okay then, 5 minutes to hide and 30 minutes to be found. If you’re found you have to do their paperwork for a week.” Clint finalized and everyone nodded.

“Alright, off you go,” Nat said before settling into a couch, observing everyone that scrambled off. 

Thor looked lost, unsure where to go. He rarely stayed at the compound. You pointed him in the direction of the gym before racing past and making your way to your spot. There was a supply closet that you had a feeling Nat wouldn’t bother checking. Bucky knew of it, but you had a back-up escape route in mind if he decided to look there. You got to the closet and silently slipped in before sliding the door closed and settling into the corner. After a few minutes, you heard light footsteps that became louder. It hadn’t been 5 minutes yet. Whoever was coming to your spot, you were prepared to tell them to buzz off before the closet door opened to reveal Steve. 

He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tagging some people I want to be friends with 🥺

@smutsonian @imanuglywombat @nastybuckybarnes @candy-and-writing @speechlessxx @mariessecretfantasies​ @mypoisonedvine​ @harryspet​ @nsfwsebbie​ @cherienymphe​ @imdarkinme​ @ironlady1993​ @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ @sherrybaby14​ @mcudarklibrary​

[thatslikely]

Seeker - D.M.

Seeker- Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (unspecified house but not slytherin) 

Warnings: none! just lots of fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: This is my first ever fic!  I hope I potray Draco accurately!  Feel free to D.M. me for any requests or anything like that.  I’d also really love feedback, positive or negative.  Special thanks to my friend Ocean, who is an amazing author and editor <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name - Y/L/N is Your Last Name - Y/H is Your House

----

Draco Malfoy.

Anyone who has ever graced the steps of Hogwarts during his reign is bound to have heard the name.  The poor first years hear about the hexing of their friends after so much as glancing at his striking blond hair.  The second year Quidditch players hear about his skill and precision on a broom.  Even the O.W.L.s-stressed fifth years hear of his (almost) unparalleled smarts.  

You, of course, heard all these things too.  You’d seen firsthand his occasional ruthlessness.  There was no doubt in your mind he was a force to be reckoned with.  You never let his daunting image intrude your thoughts, however.  He would never have a reason to bother you; so why should you care what he did?

That all seemed true until Quidditch results came back for your house.  Your eyes scanned over names on the list until you saw your name next to the title of Seeker.  You were thrilled to be on the team.  You worked so hard over the summer, waking up at dawn to fly laps around the lush forests by your home.  

After everyone in the common room was informed of your new title, they all congratulated you for what seemed like hours.  They all chanted “Y/N!” at the top of their lungs or gave you encouraging pats on the back.  After a while of sober celebration, someone finally managed to sneak in a few bottles of Firewhiskey.  You eagerly downed a shot or two before your head started to feel fuzzy.  The music and chatter of the party seemed to make your head pound, and you decided you needed some fresh air to clear your head.  

The moment you stepped out of the bustling common room, you felt way better.  Your whole body calmed, releasing the tension you didn’t know you had.  While you could still very well feel the effects of the Firewhiskey, you felt clear enough to walk all the way to the Owlery.  

The Owlery had always been a place of comfort for you.  You had never owned an owl for yourself, instead opting for an adorable black cat, but something about the flying creatures comforted you.  Maybe it was their piercing yellow eyes or their fluffy feathers that seemed to stick out in any direction, or maybe just because they remind you of whenever your mother’s owl brings sweet letters at breakfast every month.  

The air tonight was chilly, but you were simply grateful that it was too early in the year for snow because whenever Hogwarts was covered in soft white blankets, the steps up to the Owlery were dangerously icy.  Thankfully, the only things on the steps were your boots and the occasional fluttering orange leaf.  

Once you reached the top, you breathed a sigh of relief.  The thoughts of you becoming the new Seeker came back to you and you were able to celebrate a little bit again.  Before you could fully imagine yourself flying around the Quidditch pitch in search of the shiny Golden Snitch, you were interrupted suddenly by none other than Draco Malfoy’s taunting words.  

“Well, well, well.  Who do we have here?  Y/L/N?”

You froze.  In all the times you had been to the Owlery at night, this was the first time you had company.  And his company at that.  His voice seemed strong and almost amused.  Before you could give him a response, he kept going.

“You’re the new Y/H Seeker, aren’t you?  Maybe this year I’ll have some actual competition, though I doubt it.”

You felt your face heat up in rage, a feeling you rarely expressed.  The Firewhiskey must’ve brought it out of me, you thought with a sigh.  You knew you wouldn’t want to say something you’d regret, especially to your new Slytherin rival.  

“I think you might be pleasantly surprised, Malfoy.  I’ve been training all summer.”

Draco didn’t deserve to know that you had been practicing all summer, and the summer before that, but you inexplicably felt the need to prove yourself to him.  He always seemed to be one step ahead of you, though.

“And I’ve been training for Quidditch since I could walk, Y/N.  You’re not special.”

His comment stung a little.  But you knew you deserved to be Seeker, and you could prove that to him next match.  

“What brings you up here so late anyways?”

“That, Y/L/N, is none of your concern.  I could, however, ask you the same thing.”

“Just getting away from the crowd is all.  The Common Room’s loud as all hell.”  Why did you tell him that?  He didn’t need to know anything about you or your common room.  

Draco pulled up the sleeve of his black blazer, presumably looking at his watch.  You didn’t notice how Draco’s platinum blond hair shined so handsomely in the moonlight until he pushed himself off of the wall he was so casually leaning on to walk towards you.  

“It’s past curfew, Y/N.  I could so easily tell my Slytherin prefects that I found you out so late at night, especially after a loud night in the Common Room…”  The smirk on his face as he looked up into your eyes was so charming but mischievous.  

“You wouldn’t da-” you muttered, before quickly getting cut off.

“I won’t tell them, though, only because I plan on crushing you next game.  The look on your face as I hold the Snitch will be priceless.”

You desperately tried to find some way to rebut what he said, but his words it seemed, took the air from your lungs.  You watched him, stunned, as he casually handed a black envelope to what you assumed was his owl.  As the owl flew out of the window and into the pitch-black sky, he walked towards the doorway, which you happened to still be standing in.  

He purposely brushed your shoulder as he walked past you and down the stairs. Without even looking back, he simply said, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You stood there, almost breathless.  That had quite possibly been the strangest and most unexpected interaction you’ve ever had.  You’d always seen Draco as some stereotypical bully, but you never realized how truly witty and quick-on-his-feet he was.  He would be a tough opponent, both on the field and off.

----

Quidditch practice these past few weeks has been very tiring but helpful.  Every time you mounted your broom it made you feel that much more confident, which was good because you needed as much of that as you could get if you wanted to even stand a chance against Draco.  By the time the first match came around, you felt as though you could easily beat the green-jerseyed players.  

The practice room pep-talk before the game was finally the moment your confidence was cemented.  As your captain stood on the bench, yelling and inspiring, you were on top of the world.  You could see Malfoy zooming on his broom far behind you as you reached for the Snitch, its shiny metal now covered up with your worn leather gloves.  You could hear the crowd cheering your name as Draco sat in awe of you.  

That daydream was short-lived however when everyone got up from the benches to grab their brooms and fly into the stadium.  As you proudly mounted your broom, a sudden spike of anxiety hit your chest.  Of all the times nerves had to hit, did it have to be two seconds before the match began?

The stadium was filled to the brim with students from each of the four houses. The large pillars of red, yellow, blue, and green emitted cheers as your team glided on the field, doing a fun formation along with it.  Not long after, the green and silver-clad team swooped onto the field.  They flew around the oval-shaped pitch in the shape of a very coordinated V.  It was more intimidating than you’d like to admit.

As the Slytherins settled down and hovered in the air, ready for the match to start, you saw Malfoy send you an intimidating glare. You rolled your eyes in return before the referee shouted a loud, “brooms up!”

With those simple two words, you darted off towards the top of the pitch.  You gripped the broom as if your life depended on it, which it might.  Your eyes scanned the field for any signs of the snitch before you saw a flash of blonde next to you.  

“Scared, Y/L/N?”  Draco spat, clearly trying to tease you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  You smirked, your gaze reaching his enticing silver eyes.  He cocked his eyebrow at you, playfully, before you sped off, the air from the tail of your broom blowing his pale locks over his eyes.  

The Golden Snitch had caught your eye while you hovered up with Malfoy, and now you surely had the advantage.  You were mere feet away from the golden snitch, with the blonde Seeker trailing behind you.  The crowd sat captivated, wondering who would reach the snitch first.  Just as your fingers brushed the golden sphere, it shot straight up, out of your grasp.  You both wasted no time shooting upwards on your brooms.  He was now at your side, both your arms reached up to the sky.

Suddenly, you felt the metal of the snitch in the palm of your gloves.  But you also felt something else, and you almost fell off your broom at the sight of Draco’s fingers intertwined with yours, both of your palms wrapped around the snitch.  

Without hesitation, you both recoiled from each other, your interwoven hands breaking apart, which sent the snitch flying.  Your face got red and hot with embarrassment, and by the expression and color of Draco’s face, he felt the same.  He managed to mime himself gagging before he swooped in the opposite direction in search of the snitch once again.

----

As you stepped through the painting guarding your common room, you could already hear the screams and cheers.  Some people chanted your name, some people talked about the highlights from the match, and there was loud music blaring in the background.  Your close victory that afternoon definitely produced some happy house-mates.  

You weren’t in much of partying mood tonight though.  The match had worn you out, and you were ready to lay down.  You did have a lot to think about, after all.  The way you and Draco’s hands fit together perfectly around the snitch, or the way his face contorted into a frown when the Slytherins accepted defeat.  Or even the way, when your team picked you up in celebration,, a smile pricked at the sides of his mouth, barely noticeable.

You didn’t know why you couldn’t get Draco out of your mind.  You guys were rivals, but the way his image played back in your mind, you didn’t feel hatred.  You didn’t feel a big success by proving what he said in the Owlery wrong.  

You finally came to the conclusion that maybe it was because you thought he was handsome.  Just a little bit, of course.  The way his blonde hair blew in the wind was attractive, sure, but you didn’t like him or anything.  You’d never even talked to him before the night at the Owlery.  He was just the Slytherin Seeker, as you were just the Y/H Seeker to him.  Simple.

Except, you didn’t know that he also thought the same about you.  The way you smiled in victory after his (very close) loss made it sting just a little bit less.  The disapproving stares from his fellow green-wearing peers didn't hurt his pride as much when he remembered you two’s hands together around the snitch.

It’s only because she’s my rival, he thought to himself, but he couldn’t even fool himself with that lie.  All he really knew was, he had to talk to you tomorrow.

----

“Congrats on the win yesterday, Y/N.  But don’t think next time I won’t hesitate to push you off that cheap broom of yours.”  Draco spat.  He never really had a way with words, especially with people he took interest in.  He really did try to make it as nice as he could.

You merely smirked at his comment as you sat down at your table in the Great Hall.  “It’s okay, Draco.  I know you just can't accept that you got beat.”  He huffed a bit at your comment, but his expression quickly changed to that of a sarcastic smile.

He reached across the table and grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice, much to your surprise.  Just as quickly, he sat down next to you.  You finally got a good look, and smell, of him for the first time.  His silver eyes and blonde hair looked as alluring as ever, and he smelled really good, like green apples and cologne.  

Just as you were about to ask why he decided to sit with you, of all people, he stated, “It’s rude to stare, you know?”

“Sorry, it’s just weird seeing someone in those green robes of yours sitting at our table.”  You replied sheepishly, snapping out of your trance.  

He only let out a small chuckle before grabbing a green apple from the middle of the table.  He gave it a small toss before looking back at you.  You glanced into his eyes, which apparently you like to get lost in, but you couldn’t read what emotion ran through them.  

“Why did you decide to sit here, by the way?  Don’t you have some first years to hex?” You asked, partially defensive and partially curious.  

Your friends, and some other fellow house-mates, all watched in anticipation for his response, but instead he said, “If my prescence bothers you that much, I can just go back to my table.  My ego won’t be too hurt.”  He gave his signature smirk at the end of the sentence, clearly not taking it seriously.

“I didn’t mean it like that, okay?  I don’t mind the Slytherin prince sitting at our table for one day.  Two may be pushing it.”  He didn’t answer your question though, about why he wanted to sit here.  It did seem a little odd, but you weren’t complaining.  

“Very funny.  Well, I’m afraid I can’t stay much longer.  I have more pressing matters, like preparing to absolutely crush you next Quidditch match.”

He left just as fast as he had come, still grasping the green apple in his hand.  Once he was back to his throne at the Slytherin table, you glanced down to where he was previously sitting, only to find a shiny black envelope resting on the bench.  It had your initials written down in silver ink, the same shade as his eyes.  You quickly shoved it beneath your robes, so your friends wouldn’t see.

Once you were safely out of the field of vision of the Great Hall, you broke the emerald green seal of the envelope.  You pulled out a crisp, white piece of parchment.  Your eyes read the inked black text, which read:

That’s strange, you thought, he’s top of the class for potions.  Why would he need my notes?  You quickly brushed it off as you just overthinking.  Clearly, he only sat at our table and wrote me this letter because of stupid Potions class.  Right?  

I need your Potions notes from last class.  Meet me at the astronomy tower at 11.  

D.M.  

Eleven o’clock came around faster than you expected, and you were rushing out of your dorm in order to make it.  Luckily all your dormmates were still up, gossiping the night away.  Much to your surprise, they didn’t question where you were going, besides knowing that you had to give a friend some homework.  You didn’t blame them, it did seem like a lame way to spend your after-curfew hours. 

By the time you had finally gotten to the top, Draco stood with his back to you, his chisled hands holding onto the cold railing.  You walked up to him quietly, your Potions homework fluttering in the wind.  His eyes weren’t focused on you or your notes though; instead they were pointed at the crystal-clear sky.  The moonlight bounced magnificently off of his platinum blonde hair once again, just like it did at the Owlery.  

The air was colder than it was last time you had seen him against the inky-black sky, and you started to shiver.  All you wanted was to be back within the walls of your cozy dorm.  You let a signaling cough emerge from your throat as you leaned against the rail.  

Instead of asking about the Potions notes, he asked, “Aren’t you cold?  Why didn’t you bring a jacket?”  

His eyes still seemed glued to the shining stars, but you did notice his hand sliding down the rail, closer to you.  Your eyebrows furrowed as you grumbled, “Yes.  I’m freezing!”  

He let out a small chuckle as a response before his eyes finally moved to you.  “I’ll only be a minute… unless you want to stay longer.”  

Despite the uncomfortably cold temperature outside, you felt your cheeks get warmer.  You kept telling yourself it was only because he did seem a bit good-looking tonight, dressed in his signature black turtleneck, with a matching long black peacoat on top.  Suddenly, the cold didn’t feel so bad.

“Likely, Malfoy.  Here’s the Potions notes you asked for.”  You slowly handed over the ruffled papers.  For a second you thought you saw a look of confusion flash onto his face, but a small grateful smile covered it up almost instantly.  

You continued to shiver, and your nose started turning pink.  Draco almost felt bad for dragging you up here, for the Potions notes of course, so he sent an enticing offer your way.

“You look absolutely miserable, Y/N.  I think if we can sneak into the kitchens, I could make you some tea.  Though I do expect a favor from you in return, of course.”  

Your eyes lit up at the idea of a warm cup of tea, especially made by none other than Draco Malfoy, who was supposed to be your Quidditch rival.  Even you couldn’t come up with an excuse about enjoying his company this time.  

----

Draco stood one of the many kitchen counters, swirling an ornate sliver spoon in your warm tea.  Once it was stirred to his satisfaction, he handed the steaming cup to you with a warm and genuine smile, one rarely seen by anyone.  You smiled back thankfully, before taking a large sip.  The tea tasted nearly perfect, which surprised you.  Someone who was raised with house elves doing everything for them had made a delicious tea.  

“I must say, I’m impressed, Draco.  I never pegged you to be a tea expert.”

“What can I say?  I’m a man of many talents.”  His sarcastic and slightly cocky attitude was back once again, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.  

After the evidence of your late-night tea making had been erased, he leaned against the counter, a content smile on the corners of his lips.  Your shivering was long gone, replaced by a cozy warmth from the tea.  

Comfortable silence filled the room for many minutes before he simply said, “You know, Y/N, I’d like to get to know you better.  I don’t think we have to be Quidditch rivals, off the field at least.”

“I feel the same.  Though don’t get your feelings hurt when I absolutely beat you again.”

“I bet I could get the snitch years before you, with my eyes closed!”

“Like you did the other day, right?”  He put up a sarcasticly angry face on, but you could see the fire of determination in his eyes.  He really would try to get you next match.  But you would never let him.

After a night full of talking with the dashing Slytherin, you soon grew too tired to continue.  The tea must’ve made you extra sleepy because soon enough you could barely think straight.  You held onto poor Draco for dear life as he carefully walked you back to your common room.  

He put on his classic face of annoyance, but underneath you saw that his mind was filled with nothing but admiration.  As you finally reached the painting, you withdrew your hand from his shoulder.  Since you were so sleepy, he thought you wouldnt notice the loving look on his face as you walked through the doorway.  You waved him goodnight.

“Night, love.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” he smiled.

And that was the start of something wonderful.

You can read Part 2 here!

[babytortie]

unexpected

unexpected. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

a/n: this was requested by anon - love ur recent stanley fic! was wondering if you’re cool with doing a smut for him? (aged up of course!) if you’re comfortable, could you make the reader more dominant in bed/stanley being more submissive? perhaps and enemies to lovers, hate sex type. other than that, any plot line is just fine.

* hope this lives up to your expectations! tyty for requesting this one.

summary: in which stanley and reader argue worse than richie runs his trashmouth. after burning some pent-up tension one day, the two take a turn for the better and become more than just enemies.

warnings: s m u t. some fluff at end. <3

contains: enemies to lovers, degrading, hair tugging, harsh kisses w/ slight blood, mild orgasm denial, praises, rough and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 18+ in this one-shot.

~ 3.4k words.

you twirled a strand of hair between your fingers, a magazine placed on your lap, and beverly's head rested on your shoulder, looking at the pages with you.

it was the summer and the group was all back home on break from college. the loser's wanted to hang out and all eight of you were at bill's house right now. on various couch cushions and seats in the living room. his parents were away for the night and the seven brought clothes to stay at his just in case it got a bit late.

"oh, do you think he's hotter? or him?" bev asked, leaning in closer to point at the page. it was some magazine about the hottest actors of the year, achievement wise. though some hot men that were in it was currently grabbing beverly's, well, and your attention too. you glanced down at the page, slightly comparing both actors and voiced, "definitely him."

the guys overheard this and rolled their eyes. they were taking turns playing on bill’s newest nintendo sixty-four. on the floor below you, sat the four a few feet away, this was because they wanted to be scooted closer to the television. even though it was perfectly fine to put their backs against the couch. typical males.

you worried for their eyesight, especially richie’s, since right now he and bill were battling on some game you didn’t know the name of while being too close to the screen. eddie was on a chair next to the couch and sat by you, wheezing as he watched how close of a tie it was between them. mike and stanley were sitting on the floor with them on either side, cheering on who they wanted to win.

this was while ben sat on the other side of bev and read some book that just came out earlier this week. a quarter of ben’s focus was on his hand. it was resting on beverly’s thigh and drawing small, mindless shapes in content. the two were newly dating after pinning on each other for forever.

"i think we should play would you rather!" mike turned his head and suggested after hearing your conversation with the red head. bill had just died on the game causing richie to jump up and cheer while blowing out the other three's ear drums.

ben closed his book and sat up straighter. he took a glimpse over at beverly to see what her decision was. eddie hesitantly agreed when you and bev nodded. “s-sure!” bill got up and pulled stan with him.

one weekend about four years ago when the denbrough’s were home and bill had the group of losers over, they noticed how you all squished on the seats in the living room. surprising bill with an extra couch a month after this, they were able to successfully squeeze it into the room and push it against the other wall.

the four others started to pile on the other couch a few feet away from the three of you and eddie who still sat on the single chair next to you. beverly pulled her head up and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “be nice to stanley please.”

knowing it wasn’t funny, looking at her anyway with a confused expression, you lied. "stanley who?" she immediately turned her neck back at you, probably receiving some whiplash and raised an eyebrow to challenge you.

"i'm serious y/n." beverly laughed dryly. you sighed and replied a short agreeable response. “alright bev, as long as he doesn’t start it, then i won’t do anything.” after, you zipped your lips and threw an imaginary lock in the direction behind eddie.

she smiled at you in thanks and then you two turned towards the room, noticing everyone was ready. “b-being as it w-was mike’s id-dea, he can g-go first.” bill announced while glancing around the room.

mike nodded and turned to the one who still wore coke-bottle glasses years later. “richie, would you rather never wear underwear again or never wear socks again?”

ben and bill stifled a laugh, already knowing what his response was going to be. eddie rolled his eyes as richie answered, “underwear since i go commando sometimes anyway.”

you put your finger in your mouth, pretending that you were about to throw up and mike shook his head at richie. you turned to your right and left, seeing eddie’s and beverly’s disgusted faces.

”okay, eddie spaghetti.” he paused. the seven of you looked at eds, who had already put his hand over his face in annoyance. you and beverly laughed when the shorter boy muttered, “here we go.” richie smirked and continued. “would you rather, accidently send a nude to your boss or your parents? and by parents i mean your mom and i.”

he rolled his eyes, “absolutely not richie. my mom would never get with you and i would die of embarrassment if it were sonia. she’d probably kidnap and lock me in my old room, never to be seen again. probably boss.”

eddie turned to you after the group cackled of laughter, especially richie at the response he was given. the two of you currently shared a science class together in college and the asthmatic based some of his question off of this. "alright y/n, would u rather hook up with one of football players or with mr. jackson down at the science lab?”

you placed the palm of your hand on your cheek, into a thinking position and replied. "well, i kind of answered that question at last weekend’s party?" beverly jumped up at this and gasped. "no way! with which one?"

"i don’t kiss and tell." you smirked. the others gagged at that. “ah okay, i see. that’s where you went when we couldn’t find you again.” ben commented. stanley had been a bit quiet during the conversation and decided to speak up. adding to this, while looking at you pointedly. "you kind of just did tell and admitted at the fact that you sucked off some guy.”

you weren’t usually the type to get flustered during conversations like this. instead owning it as if you weren’t bothered. this helped you avoid any teasing or any richie’s usual jokes. "at least i'm getting some!" muttering in stanley’s direction.

"i swear if you guys argue for one more minute, i'm going to shoot myself. go y/n. it’s your turn." mike spoke up in between you and stanley, trying to get the game rolling again.

you smiled, feeling a little eager at the next question. you looked at the curly haired sitting across the room from you. the others groaned knowing you were about to pick on him in some kind of way. "uris. for the rest of your sex life, would you rather be the top or bottom?”

he blinked in your direction, probably wanting to smack you for the inappropriate question. “depends, is it with anyone specific?” you looked down sheepishly, then back up. is this a trick question? i mean sometimes you did find stanley a little bit too attractive. “do you want it to be?” deciding to quip back with equal attitude, you asked.

the group looked between the two of you while waiting for a response from uris. the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. letting out a scoff in return, he looked at you in the eyes and glared. speaking in a low tone, you almost didn’t hear him. "uh, i don’t know.”

"what do you mean? you don’t know?" richie snickered.

bill, beverly, ben, and mike started to get the picture together. eddie figured it out just a second before them, when you burst out giggling. before you could stop from helping yourself, you let out a harsh jab. “oh shit, that explains why you’re always so uptight! maybe you should unbutton some of that polo? might help so you aren’t choking on all that innocence."

that only made matters worse, the last pin in place to set him off. stanley angrily spewed some words under his breath. only catching your name, you figured it was most likely something badly about you. quickly getting up from his spot, his curls bounced up and down when he rushed upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

the others watched him disappear from the top step sadly and looked back at you with the look. you had the decency to look a bit guilty, an awkward grimace on your face. "uh, why are you all looking at me like that?"

eddie leaned over to elbow you and gave his puppy dog eyes in pleading. you sighed but started getting up anyway. you laced your hands together in front of your stomach, nerves a bit jittery at being in a room alone with him. "well, to state my case we were all having that kind of discussion! if he wasn't such a prude..." you trailed off.

ben got up, patting your shoulder. "we all know this but stanley is sensitive about these kinds of things. go apologize while we're on break now and we’ll get some drinks going."

you nodded and turned back around, starting towards the stairs and walked up slowly. richie decided this was a good time to be the loud trashmouth that he is and shouted. "it was nice knowing you, y/n!"

shaking your head, you reached the last step and rounded the corner. hearing a slap noise, you assumed tozier was probably getting hit on the back of his head. a moment later a "beep beep" came from mike and you let out a small laugh in relief that they had your back against the loud mouth.

strolling down the hallway, you spotted the second guest bedroom door closed and decided to knock on it. stan heard a faint knock and got up from the bed to open it, seeing y/n he groaned. "oh, it's just you."

you ignored his disappointed comment and bit your lip. looking up and down to observe his new look. he must have just changed. wearing a regular light blue t-shirt and grey sweats. you shook your head and looked up to see his grin, catching you in the act of checking him out.

rolling your eyes in response, like he usually did and walking around him, you closed the bedroom door shut after stepping inside. you grabbed a handful of stanley’s shirt and pushed him against the back of the door. more like he allowed you to do this but you were definitely in control of the situation.

you leaned in towards him and swiped the back of your thumb over his bottom lip to test his reaction. when he didn’t swat your hand away, you went on the tip of your toes and brushed his lips against yours.

stanley gasped into your mouth and deciding to use this as an opportunity, you placed the tip of your tongue on the bottom of his lip. right before you could actually do this, he apparently read your mind and left his mouth open purposely. you wanted to slap him.

nonetheless, he allowed you total access. surprising him on purpose, you shoved your tongue in his mouth. wishfully thinking about how you wanted to somehow choke him with it. he grabbed both sides of your shoulders and scooted you closer, clashing his teeth with yours. not wanting to let up the control he tried to grab, you grasped the back of his neck tightly and felt light-headed. sensing wetness pooling between your thighs from enjoying this too much, you cursed to yourself.

a small moan escaped out from your lips and as if it was his fault, you nipped his bottom lip. you tried to quickly get rid the thought of ever giving into stanley uris. he hissed sharply, tasting slight blood from the nick. uris mumbled. "bitch."

this angered you more. pulling away from his lips, you put on a fake smile. moving in a bit closer to mess with the collar of his shirt, you tugged on it roughly, your face still close with his. "ready to not be a virgin anymore, virgin?" you retorted.

he smirked, "as long as i'm not one anymore, i don't care who it's with. even someone like you." he emphasized in a nasty tone. you pulled the shirt up over his head and uttered out. "shut the hell up." stan hummed happily after his shirt was pulled up to see that you were glaring from his reply. the two of you heard loud steps down the hall by the stairs, so you placed a finger over his mouth.

after a moment later, you heard what you assumed was someone in the bathroom, closing door the shut. letting out a breath not realizing you were holding it, stanley took this as a distraction to slip your finger into his mouth. you gasped, eyes widening, "what the hell!"

pulling your hand back, you spoke and stared in his eyes to let him know just how serious you were. "here's how it's going to go if you want to get laid, uris. we're doing this my way. don't play around anymore and definitely don’t talk too much so i can picture literally anyone other than you."

stanley looked into your eyes, searching for any hints of a lie from your remark. when he saw your eyes looking clearly back into his, he sighed in defeat. not letting it show, he grinned nastily. ”fine by me, y/l/n.”

"now, bird-boy are you sure you can handle this?" you stated more than questioned, an eyebrow quirked up. you held onto the top of his sweats with an eyebrow quirked up. he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together so hard he hoped they wouldn't crack. "fuck you y/n."

“no, that’s what i’ll be doing to you.” disagreeing and putting your palm over him. “what do we have here?” you asked out loud, in general all snarky. he let out an annoyed noise when he felt you tease fingertips across his hard length. so, in retaliation, he grabbed your wrist and pushed the palm of your hand harder onto him.

you gasped at how big he was. you tried to cover the surprise, a ‘tsk, tsk’ falling from your lips. not letting go quickly enough stanley noticed this and smirked at you. frowning, you murmured. "ever heard of patience? such a bad boy."

uris let out a small, quiet groan from feeling your hands come off of him. which was something you caught and figured having teased him enough, you put your hands around the waistband of his pants. tugging them off along with his boxers. afterwards you pushed him down onto the bed and before he could do anything, you quickly made work of your shirt. pulling it over your head and unclipping your bra as well.

he put a hand through his curls, smoothing them out from the fall when he fell into the comforter. watching you, he could feel himself hardening painfully. he felt needy and done with the wait. pulling your wrist closer he pleaded. “come on, hurry. please y/n.”

”fine, you’ve waited long enough like a good little boy.” stanley flushed at your approving compliment and tried to hide it, looking down. you saw this when you moved to sit on top of him and smiled. grabbing his chin lightly, you tilted his head back up. while looking into his light brown eyes, you held his wrist and tugged his hand so it laid over on top your breast.

stanley’s breath hitched and you moved inwards toward his neck. your warm breath was touching his skin, feeling cheeks reddening more. uris felt, palmed, and squeezed a little as you sucked small hickeys on his neck. not to dark but enough to be just visible if one were close up.

kissing his cheek and tilting back up, he dropped his hand and you happened to see his cheeks and neck all red. the quick switch of his attitude still shocked you to the core. ”are you sorry for calling me a bad name, baby?” he ignored your comment like a brat and kissed the inside of your wrist. you melted a little in his touch before going back to the task at hand.

you slowly let out of his grasp to unbuckle the belt and unbutton your shorts. you shimmied out of them and wanting to hurry up, you just moved your panties to the side and out of the way. pumping him a few times, you started to align him to your center. before you moved down onto him, you placed your hand on his cheeks in a sweet gesture and silently asked for reassurance. he nodded and you slowly slid down into him, both of you letting out small moans. “feel so good.” you muttered.

stilled for a moment, you let yourself adjust to his length and him to the feel. your hips went back up and you moved in forward, kissing him again. it slowly turned into a sloppy make out when you slammed your hips back down again. his tongue shoved in your mouth when you gasped in pleasure. after you found a rhythm you babbled on and on about how stanley was doing so good for you.

"i need you to put your fingers on my clit and rub." you said softly but still in a demanding tone. directing his hand exactly where you wanted it, you nodded when he looked at you again. his fingers moved quickly, drawing out an orgasm that you felt nearing.

lacing your fingers through his curly hair. stanley let out a loud moan as you tugged the locks. "now for the sake of you being able to cum, i'm going to ask again. are you sorry my baby boy?" he really didn't want to have to see the satisfactory in your face if he apologized. though, after a small moment went by, he realized that you weren't joking.

he let out a small, almost incoherent whine. pleading you with his big hazel eyes, "i-i'm sorry y/n. so sorry, c-can i cum please?" stanley would have never thought he'd be the submissive type but he found himself melting at your praises, quite easily. he liked letting you have some control and for once being able to sit back.

you smirked at him and let go. patting his cheek in almost a mocking way. "awe such a good boy but i think you can wait another minute." his eyes widened and you placed your hands back up onto his chest, steadying your balance before moving your hips back up and down repeatedly and harshly against his. he moaned when you kept going back down on his cock. feeling his pelvis right up against your very sensitive bundle of nerves, you squirmed.

stanley smirked, feeling you tighten around him. knowing you were close was a relief. constantly feeling so good on him made him hard and straining inside of you. tears prickling in the back of his eyes and wanting to cum so badly was difficult. uris felt not wanting to disobey you was more important as he patiently waited. pushing harder on your clit is what caused you to unravel, tightening completely around him. "oh fuck! s-such a good boy. cum with me now."

he came so hard, the hardest ever. which wasn't much to go off on, from the obvious conversation before. feeling euphoria, you rode through your high and his, milking every last drop of cum. you started to feel shaky. before your hips gave out, you placed one last kiss on his slightly darkening hickey.

after you fell on the bed next to him, he pulled you close. you turned your head in his embrace, eyes widening. you knew without a doubt they looked like they were probably about to fall out of the sockets. assuming even bigger eyes then richie's usual ones due to his glasses.

uris pursed his lips, kissing the top of your forehead before he could overthink it. “we need to talk. y/n/n." you tried to open your mouth, but closed it again. stanley used your nickname, he has never used it before. you were in disbelief, frozen, and unable to say a word. he rescued you and spoke up again. "you know i don't hate you, right?"

you swallowed feeling like a brick was falling from your shoulders and nodded. "i don't hate you either stan. this is not what i was expecting though to make up." you giggled causing him to chime in. the awkwardness was finally settled but you paused and asked nervously. "do you think we're worse than eddie and richie?"

he shook his head, not even needing to think on it and responded sweetly. "no, we're okay now and i have a feeling that richie will tease eddie even after we're all dead."

you laughed together once more, agreeing with stan’s opinion which would probably be a proven fact one day. "that's true. poor eddie!" snuggling closer into his back and finally, truly feeling at peace.

© babytortie on tumblr + wattpad.

[spartanguard]

lakeside lovin’

Summary: Emma and Killian. On a dock. By a lake. Loving each other. *swoon* 

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SWEETEST RED VELVET CUPCAKE IN THE WORLD, @xpumpkindumplingx​!!!!!!!!!! One of these years, we’ll actually be able to celebrate in person, but until then, let me just say it’s been such a joy to become your friend through this fandom and our adventures in Chicago and Mackinac have been among my favorites <3 HAVE THE MOST LOVELY BIRTHDAY, A!!!

this fic was partly inspired by said Mackinac adventure, but mostly by A’s appreciation of guys in gray sweatpants ;) it’s modern AU, established relationship, but not any particular universe; just some romance on the water. Hope you enjoy it!!

rated M | 1.3k words | AO3

Emma sat on the edge of the dock, dipping her toes into the icy water. It had been a bit of a hike, driving out to Mary Margaret’s family cabin on Lake Huron all the way from Boston, but it had turned out to be so worth it: a week with just their friends, in a gorgeous cottage by a huge lake with deep, crystal blue water.

She took another sip from her can of hard cider and leaned back. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the drive back tomorrow, even if it meant they got to stop at that great grilled cheese place in Cleveland, but this had been a perfect vacation—just what she needed to rest and recharge before returning to her not-exactly-relaxing life.

For now, though, she was going to enjoy her drink and watch the changing colors of the sky as the sun set behind her. The sounds of laughter and crackling fire were filtering down from closer to the house, and she’d head up there in a bit, but she was enjoying her solitude for the moment.

“Might I join you, love?”

Well, she had been. But this interruption was welcome.

He didn’t wait for an answer as he came to stand next to her, nudging her hand with his long toes. She turned to look, and what caught her eyes first was a familiar, faded, favorite pair of gray sweatpants; as she scanned higher, she noticed that was all he wore, and his chest hair was still sticking to his lightly tanned skin as he air-dried from a shower. At the top, she was greeted by Killian’s signature crooked grin, dimples cutting into his freshly trimmed scruff, and a wild mop of dark hair that threatened to hang into his eyes, the blue of which rivaled the lake.

“Always,” she finally replied.

He first set his beer down next to her, then used his hand to help himself take a seat on her left; he hadn’t put his prosthesis back on his left wrist after his shower, evidently, which was good—he was usually self conscious about his scars, but seeing him so relaxed about it was nice. 

He didn’t say anything once he sat, just enjoyed the tranquility of the water with her, punctuated by sips from his drink. Eventually, she put her head on his shoulder, savoring the feel of his warm skin under her cheek. When he finished his beer, he wrapped an arm around her to pull her closer as the sun continued its descent, and stars began to become visible overhead. She knew the sky would be bright orange when they left in the morning, especially as the sun rose out of the lake, but for now, it was still that navy-indigo color of twilight.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

And then his fingers brushed their way up her side, against the skin under the edge of her tshirt.

So her kisses moved north, along his neck and against his sharp jaw.

Before she knew it, she was straddling his cotton-clad lap, sharing languid kisses as her hands gripped his strong shoulders, anchoring her in place. She couldn’t help but press her hips against him; he just had that effect on her. And, thanks to his well-worn selection in pants, she knew the feeling was mutual—could feel the growing hardness in those sweats through her own thin leggings.

She pulled away just enough to shimmy those down her legs, biting back a gasp at the cooling night air on her skin (particularly where she was wet and wanting). And she was ready for him to do the same—she could see the outline of his arousal quite easily through the gray fabric—but he wrapped his blunted left arm around her waist and his fingers reached for her core. 

She was hardly going to complain about this delay—especially once his talented digits brushed against her entrance, then again inside. She arched into it as she found his lips again, and each pass of his fingers through her sex found her getting more and more keyed up, sweat breaking out on her skin in spite of the chill in the air.

He had her nearing the edge, almost to the point of pure bliss, but then eased back before she could cross that threshold. She was almost disappointed, but then he was shifting under her, carefully moving his own pants away to let his cock (finally) spring free.

Wordlessly, in a well-rehearsed motion, she sank down onto his erection; there was something extra thrilling about knowing their friends weren’t all that far away—the din of conversation just reached their ears—and yet, they were down here having a private moment. 

He started to talk but she silenced him with her mouth, not wanting to break the quiet spell that had fallen on them. Instead, she began to move, drawing a low moan from him that vibrated all through her, spurring her on.

Thank god the dock was stable, otherwise she might fear for its structural integrity as she continued; she was worried enough about splinters in sensitive areas, given the way Killian was somehow meeting her press for press. It didn’t take long to get where she’d been earlier and past it, each stroke of his generous length against her inner walls bringer her nearer and nearer to her undoing.

Killian’s breathing grew more erratic under her, his movements more stuttered; he was close, too—but not as close as her. She tried to slow down so they could come together, but he wasn’t having it. “Let go,” he whispered in a raspy voice—and she did.

Now it was his turn to quiet her with a kiss, lest she shout out in rapture as she finally climaxed, letting the ebbing waves of pleasure finally crash over her. He continued to move under until he, too, reached his peak, pulsing inside her.

Neither made an effort to separate as they came down; if anything, they moved closer, he wrapping his arms around her tighter and her nestling her head into his neck, taking a deep whiff of him—the clean scent of his body wash paired with his spicy natural musk (it was her favorite smell, and the fresh lake air was a close second). 

“I love you,” she sighed, once her breath came back to her.

“I love you too, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “And how would you feel about round two?”

“Mm, yes please,” she said.

Still holding her close, he propped himself on his left arm to roll them over onto her back—

—but misjudged, or forgot which way he was rolling, because suddenly they were both splashing into the cold water of the lake. It was unexpected and disorienting and definitely put a damper on what they were about to continue to do.

“Love, are you alright?” Killian asked, panicked, when Emma finally broke the surface; at least the water was fairly shallow, but still deep (and cold) enough to drown any other plans. 

“Y-yeah,” she answered, pushing her hair out of her face as she waded back to him as quick as she could (which wasn’t fast enough). “Th-that d-dn’t work out-t,” she stammered. 

“Fraid not; I’m sorry,” he said, hugging her close to try to warm her. “Let’s get up to the fire,” he directed.

There was a ladder, thankfully, so getting out of the water wasn’t an issue. There would surely be questions from their friends when they got back to the house—or maybe not; it wasn’t hard to guess what they were up to. And the dusty path that lay ahead was bound to be agony on their bare feet.

But once they had changed into dry clothes and were cuddled close under a blanket, under the stars, she didn’t care. How could she, when she had the most perfect man, in the most perfect spot—and he was wearing another perfect pair of sweats?

[mysticpetals]

Farewell, sunshine

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Jake × f!mc (Syianne)

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: angst, a sprinkle of fluff

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 4.9k (oof)

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: All Jake ever wanted was to find his sister and protect the person who had helped him more than anyone. Only, he slowly began to realise that bringing Syianne into this had caused more harm than good.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: mentions of blood, physical attack, violence, hospitals, medical coma, panic attack.

𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨: Anonymous asked: 5. “Wake up! Please wake up.” MC and Jake finally get to meet for the first time, but everything is heavily dipped in angst. 😂 Also I adore your writing and keep up the good work!

Anonymous asked: Can you give us the most angsty jealous filled over protective short with Jake x MC i want all the ANGST to be seeping out of my screen

@mnrangera asked: Here's a nice angsty scenario for you: MC is in Duskwood continuing their investigation but is caught out in town after dark. They are on the phone with Jake when they are attacked by the Man Without a Face like Jessie was.

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨: I know this has been LOOOOONG overdue and I apologise for the wait. Thank you to all my followers for being patient, especially those who sent the requests in. I hope the long wait is worth it and you enjoy it. Also, please read the warnings before proceeding, I don't want any of you to be triggered by something I wrote. There may be inaccuracies in how I progressed medical conditions and general working of the hospitals so I apologise for that. Please do not repost or translate this fic anywhere else!! I'm literally begging you, please don't ruin my hard work like this. I would love if I could get some sort of feedback, whether it be reblogs or comments or just anon asks. I've tried to improve my writing and I hope it shows a little in this. This is my Christmas and New Year present all wrapped in one! I hope you all have a great 2021 <3

It was a cold, winter evening with the sky painted in a plethora of warm colors and Jake felt like finally things were going his way.

He, along with Syianne, had been working tirelessly for the past few weeks to find out what happened to Hannah. They had faced a lot of challenges along the way, with cryptic diary entries and threats directed towards them and their loved ones, but still, they'd prevailed and spent every ounce of free time, getting more information about Hannah's perpetrator.

They finally had the facts about what happened the day she was kidnapped and only the identity of the criminal was hidden. Syianne had suggested that she should go to Duskwood to try and find the last puzzle piece, to which Jake had been a little apprehensive. She argued that the rest of the group had already been through enough, with getting stalked and receiving threats and insisted that she should be the one to carry out her search in secret.

She never once asked for him to come along because she knew how dangerous it would be for him and she didn't want him to get caught. Jake was instantly warmed by the thought that someone cared so much about him, to think of his well being first.

So that night, as she called him to update him on her findings and plan after she went to Duskwood, he found himself speaking his thoughts impulsively.

"What if I came too?"

There was silence on the other end and Jake thought he might have overstepped or made it weird but she answered before he could stammer an apology.

"I'd like that. But only if you're comfortable and safe."

She told him to ruminate on it for a while and bid him goodnight. Jake thought about whether it was a logical thing to do. If Syianne planned to go undercover, he couldn't very well let her go into the lion's den alone. So he made up his mind and texted Syianne to let her know.

Jake [10:46 pm]

I'll come to Duskwood too.

Is it okay if we don't meet straight away?

I...I don't think I'm ready yet.

Syianne [10:47 pm]

I was lowkey hoping you'd say that ahaha

And of course! Take as much time as you need :)

That night, he slept with a smile on his face, excitement churning in his stomach.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

Syianne was looking forward to her trip to Duskwood.

She knew it was a potentially dangerous situation and she was only going there to investigate but knowing that Jake might be there too, sent a spark of thrill through her body. They had been speaking non-stop for the past few weeks and she really liked talking to him. His answers to questions about him or his life were adorably confusing and Syianne realized that she really wanted to get to know him, be his friend or possibly something more, if their flirty banter was anything to go by.

Her bag contained all the essentials she could need, along with a sketchbook and pencils to use in case of boredom. She couldn't leave Matrix with any of her friends as they were either busy or allergic to cats so her only option was to take her along.

She had never booked a flight so fast. Knowing she would have to take a car from the airport to the rest of the way to Duskwood did nothing to damper her excitement. She couldn't wait to meet everyone once they found Hannah, some more so than the others.

The trip was nothing eventful, just a lot of travelling and it made Syianne a little tired but the idea of meeting her friends and finally putting a stop to all this madness, made her keep going. She wouldn't admit it if you asked her but she was looking forward to possibly seeing Jake as well. She knew he might not be comfortable enough to meet her yet and she completely respected that, but the thought still lingered.

She checked in to the only hotel Duskwood had, not meeting the receptionist's - Lilly's - eyes and was eternally grateful that she had only leaked her number and not her photo in that video. It would have been much more difficult to move about Duskwood, if that were the case.

The room they had was pretty basic, but not too bad for a few nights. Matrix prowled around the room, getting herself comfortable in the new environment while Syianne slowly unpacked the few clothes and necessities she brought.

In the corner of her mind, there was the thought that Jake might be staying at this hotel too and that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. But she was a woman of her word and would wait until Jake was ready and would not try to look for him.

She had a mission here and she wanted to be damn sure that that's what she would be focusing on and save Hannah.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

Jake was supposed to be in Duskwood about two nights ago.

He had encountered some issues with removing his tracks from the internet, as well as trying to find a safe way to drive to Duskwood without exposing himself. Working as a hacker did have some benefits and finally he managed to find a guy who made him three fake number plates that he would interchange every once in a while, so his whereabouts couldn't be traced.

He had let Syianne know of the unexpected delay but to his surprise, she was enjoying herself in Duskwood. She had told him that Jessy gave her a virtual tour of the town once and she was excited to explore all those places in person. She talked to him at night, describing the beauty of the small town and Jake felt himself growing wistful, wondering what they could do together if he had been there. But then again, hadn't he said that he wouldn't show himself right now? He was cautious - just as he had been all his life - but something about Syianne just made him want to let his guard down, to just be selfish for once.

He had no time to think further on it because finally, all the preparations and precautionary measures were done and he could drive to Duskwood. He couldn't leave Glitch at home because he had attachment issues and couldn't go without Jake for a long period of time. So he ushered him into his carrier and told him he could claw all the wood he wanted when they reached their destination and Glitch meowed in agreement. He had always been a smart cat, after all.

Changing the number plates every hour was exhausting, especially when he didn't do much manual work but he endured it, if it meant he was one step closer to finding his sister.

When he finally reached Duskwood, he was in awe of how normal it looked, how silent; how someone who didn't know that a girl had been kidnapped would think of this place as the perfect getaway. But he knew better, didn't he? This town held dark secrets, secrets that people weren't willing to acknowledge and he was going to expose them for what they were, no matter what it took.

Signing into the Duskwood hotel was as awkward as he imagined it to be, his half sister having no idea who he was and looking at his dark, baggy clothes suspiciously. He wasn't blaming her, he would have probably done the same if a strange man came out of nowhere to stay in Duskwood of all places. Lilly gave him a tight smile as he picked up his bag and key and made way to his room.

Syianne had texted him earlier that day that she would be checking out the lake in the evening, where Jessy was attacked. Jake was against it from the start but he should have known how stubborn she could be and eventually, he had to agree but only on the condition that she stays on video call with him the whole time. Syianne was evidently bewildered by his request, judging by the way she kept writing and erasing her reply but after a while, she managed to ask if he would be comfortable with that. Jake's heart warmed at her considerate words, never really having anyone who would care about his emotions, he was always surprised when Syianne said something like that. He replied that he would just turn off his camera or point it at the lamp or something but he had to be sure about her safety.

And that's why, he was sitting with his phone in front of him in the evening, camera turned off as he watched her fondly, pointing out the strange birds she saw.

"Ah, I wish you were here! The lake is so pretty this time and the light from sunset is reflecting off the water and it makes an amazing view," she said, voice breathy with the exertion of walking for a while and a tone of awe towards the scene in front of her.

"That's sufficient sightseeing, don't you think?" Her voice suddenly took a serious note and Jake straightened up in his chair. He was afraid but couldn't say anything. He had already agreed to let her go with a condition and he feared if he asked her to not investigate, she would probably end the call and keep looking for clues by herself. At least on the phone, he could look at her surroundings and made sure no one sneaked up on her.

"If you say so," he said half-heartedly, glancing at the surroundings behind her as she narrowed her eyes at his dismissive tone.

The next twenty minutes were spent with Syianne looking around the lake and Jake looking over her shoulder virtually. She had scouted the edge and went a little deeper into the forest, looking for a car, a boat, a mask - anything, really - but the search had proved to be futile so far. Everything was as peaceful as ever, no signs of any disturbance and it made Jake a little antsy. Nothing was ever this perfect.

"Well, since we can't find anything here, I think you should come back. It's getting late," Jake said, looking at the already darkened sky. It was an ominous red color and Jake was getting more and more worried as people left the lakeside.

Syianne frowned but didn't argue and that made him sigh in relief.

"Yeah, you're right. No use trying to find something that isn't there," she said and started walking again.

"Wait, you walked here? Didn't you bring your car?" Jake asked and she shook her head.

"Nope, I wanted to enjoy Duskwood and being in a car wouldn't have helped," she smiled at the camera and Jake let out an almost inaudible sigh. Why couldn't she care about her safety a little more? She was going to give him grey hair before he reached his thirties, that was for sure.

As he began to reply to her, he caught movement from the left side of the screen and instantly grabbed his phone, expanding the background.

There was a silhouette of a hand.

"Syianne, run!" He shouted, as the figure's arm came into view and she looked back in surprise before starting to sprint, the camera shaking from her movements.

Jake scrambled to get his car keys, not bothering with what he was wearing and ran towards the hotel parking, getting into his car and connecting the GPS to his phone, all the while listening to Syianne's panting breaths as she ran away from the man without a face.

Getting her location was no problem for him and he just hoped he would arrive there on time.

"Jake, I'm scared. I'm hiding behind a big building and I think he went on ahead," she whispered, voice shaky and trembling and Jake's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he glanced over at his phone to watch her looking around herself in a panic.

Five more minutes and he would reach her location. Jake had never been more thankful that Duskwood was a small town and the hotel wasn't so far away from the lake.

"I'm coming, Syianne. Just a little while more and we'll go back together."

"Okay, I think I'm safe for now," she said. There was a sound of slow careful footsteps as Syianne came out from behind the building.

The abrupt sound of a gasp almost made him lose control of the steering wheel and he increased his speed as he heard what sounded like a scuffle. Syianne had probably dropped her phone because it only showed the dark sky and sounds of her struggling against her attacker.

"No! Let–"

Jake let out a harsh breath, jaw tightening as he heard Syianne's scream. He drove straight for a bit and turned the next corner and saw the man trying once again to restrain her. His eyes saw red and he honked and honked like it was nobody's business, speeding towards them.

The man without a face seemed to have realised that someone was coming to help as he pushed Syianne roughly into the wall and ran away towards the forest. As much as Jake wanted to go after him, Syianne was his first priority and he quickly got out of the car, dashing towards her crumpled form, lying on the ground.

He fumbled with his phone, calling the local police and asking for an ambulance, his body shaking all the while, as he knelt down next to Syianne.

He felt tears welling in her eyes as he looked at her battered form and realised that she was bleeding.

"Syianne?" He spoke in a scared voice.

"Syianne!" He said more forcefully, repeatedly patting her face in hope she'll look at him but her eyes were still glassy and unfocused as if she couldn't comprehend anything.

"I'm...so sorry. I…" her voice trailed off as she struggled to breathe and Jake cried, seeing her in so much pain, when he couldn't do anything except wait for the ambulance to arrive.

After a moment, Syianne's eyes fluttered closed and Jake's panic rose to new heights.

"No, no, no! Wake up! Please wake up!" He shouted and begged but she didn't respond to his calls.

His hand was soaked in her blood from where he was applying pressure on the wound at her side. The blood hadn't stopped flowing and Jake was worried that she was losing too much, too soon.

"What do I do? What do I do?" He muttered to himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins, with only one thought in his head – to save her.

He heard sirens in the distance and was relieved to know that help was coming. He pushed up the fallen hood of his jacket up on his head and looked at Syianne for any signs of consciousness. Her breaths were shallow and eyes still closed.

Soon enough, paramedics rushed to the scene and immediately started tending to Syianne's wounds. Jake felt as if he was just a spectator, not being able to do anything but watch. Someone came up to him and started asking him questions, about how he found her, who he was to her and if he knew anything about the attack. He answered all the questions as carefully as he could, giving a fake name, because he still wasn't sure if the police department was in league with the kidnapper or not.

As soon as he was done with the questioning, a paramedic approached him, letting him know that they were taking Syianne to the hospital and he would have to come there for a bit of paperwork. Jake hesitated and said he'd drive there in his own car and the paramedic nodded in response and left.

He got in his car and put his head in his hands, shaking at the unfortunate turn of events. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Syianne was just going to check out the lake and then surprise her friends the next day by telling them she'd be here for a few days and enjoy Duskwood together.

Jake was even thinking of meeting her in person and telling her that she had changed his life for the better. But his cowardice, his meticulous nature to not let anyone know who he was or where he was might have cost Syianne her life tonight. Even thinking about it had tears pooling in his eyes and he took a deep breath to bite back the sobs that were threatening to break once again.

He felt guilty, so so guilty and couldn't bring himself to start the car. He was pretty sure that if – no when – Syianne woke up, she would want nothing to do with the man who put her life in danger. With that thought rooted in his mind, he opened his phone and with trembling hands, sent Jessy a text about Syianne's accident. He received a reply almost immediately.

Jessy [8:46 pm]

What?

How did she come here?

You know what? If she's not okay, I'm going to hunt you down and make you pay.

Jake had no trouble believing she was telling the truth. All he wanted to do was help and now everything was falling apart. Taking a deep but shaky breath, he started the car but instead of going to the hospital, he turned towards the hotel.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

Jessy had no trouble believing that the hacker was telling the truth. His texts were frantic and he practically begged her to go to the hospital to see Syianne. She had no idea how she got here, but hearing that she got attacked, just like she was, was enough to make her worry and drive to the hospital, after letting Cleo know. She figured that the rest of them deserved to know too.

She rushed to the front desk, breathless and worried, and one of the nurses told Jessy that the doctors were with Syianne and she'd have to wait until they were done to know how she was.

After some time of relentless pacing, Cleo arrived and Jessy filled her in on everything that the hacker told her, which wasn't much, but it gave them a good idea of what had happened. Cleo said that she hadn't told anyone else yet and that they should do so as soon as the doctors had an update on Syianne's condition.

About an hour later, a nurse came upto Jessy and Cleo, asking if they knew Syianne and upon their confirmation, led them to the room she was kept in. They weren't allowed to enter yet as the doctors were still in the room, but Jessy gasped when she saw Syianne's scratched up face, with bandages covering her head.

"Oh my gosh." Cleo breathed and Jessy felt a rush of sorrow as she averted her eyes.

The doctors after completing their examination, told them that Syianne was stabbed in the side but luckily it didn't puncture anything important and they closed up the wound to allow it to heal. What was more concerning, was the fact that she was hit on the back of her head.

"She most likely suffered from a concussion, in which case, it is of the utmost importance that the patient doesn't fall asleep," the doctor said and Jessy and Cleo looked at each other uneasily.

"But Syianne fell asleep…" Jessy began and the doctor gave her an apologetic smile.

"That's right. She was unconscious when she was brought here. The superficial wounds are taken care of, we just don't know when she'll wake up."

Both of them were too stunned to say anything and a call for the doctor from one of the nurses broke them out of their stupor.

"So, she's in a coma?" Cleo asked.

The doctor hesitated before answering.

"Essentially, yes. But we can't know for sure without further observation. If the injury isn't severe she'll wake up soon, we just have to monitor her constantly and look for any changes." He then walked off when his pager went off, most likely to see another patient.

"Don't worry, Jessy. She'll wake up soon," Cleo said, placing a hand on her shoulder, as they looked into Syianne's room, seeing her sleeping peacefully, as if nothing was wrong and she was just taking a nap.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

As soon as she got home from the hospital, Jessy sent out a row of furious texts to the hacker, clouded by her anger and hopelessness. In her head, it was all his fault that Syianne was twittering between life and death. He was the one who asked her to come to Duskwood without letting any of them know, which caused her to be in such a terrible condition.

Everything was crumbling.

They were a tight knit group, always there for each other but when did it turn into a nightmare, Jessy didn't know. Emotion overtook her and she suddenly collapsed against the wall, keeping a hand on her mouth to muffle her sobs, and cried.

She cried for Hannah, who she had no idea whether she was alive or not. She cried for Syianne, who had become such a great friend to her. Most importantly, she cried for her relationship with everyone, that was slowly but surely, withering away.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

Jake had been pacing in his hotel room ever since getting back, waiting on a word from Jessy. Glitch watched him with big eyes, as he stubbed his on the bedside and cursed. Sighing in defeat, Jake realised that it won't do any good to worry himself to death, but that didn't mean that his mind didn't drift off to the earlier scene.

Syianne lying on the ground. Blood pooled around her.

He shook his head in frustration, trying to get that image out of his head but to no success. Glitch, sensing that something was wrong, strolled towards him, rubbing and purring against his legs. Jake softened at seeing his efforts to calm him and he picked Glitch up, moving to lay down on the bed. He petted him, smiling at the way the cat burrowed himself further against Jake, curling his tail around his wrist.

After a few peaceful moments of cuddling, Jake's phone lit up with a text, which had him scrambling to grab it from the bedside. Glitch meowed in protest but Jake was too wound up to notice.

Jessy [10:25 pm]

She's in a coma

They don't know when she'll wake up

Jake felt all breath leave him as he read Jessy's text. He didn't know what to think, what to do, what he could do. Jessy didn't give him a chance to respond.

Jessy [10:26 pm]

Don't contact any of us ever again

I don't want to find Hannah this way…which leads to everyone else getting hurt

Please leave Syianne out of this

Saying her mind, Jessy went offline again. Jake took a shaky breath, trying to ground himself. Syianne might never make up.

No, he told himself.

He couldn't think like that. He knew she'd wake up, it might take a little time but she will. Because if she didn't, Jake wouldn't be able to live with himself.

He got another text from Lilly, saying she was sorry that it happened but he couldn't bring himself to write back. His mind was empty, body numb to everything around him and he was cursing himself for being so careless.

If he hadn't been so selfish, if only he didn't put all of this on her, if he had just reached on time, if, if, if.

That's all he thought of, as tears continuously trailed down his cheeks, an arm covering his eyes, the only thing on his mind being Syianne, just as it had been ever since he started talking to her.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

The next day, Jake found himself holding a large flower bouquet and walking to Duskwood hospital's reception. He was trembling, scared out of his mind but he just had to see Syianne. So, he had braved his anxiety and was now standing in front of the receptionist, who looked at the abnormally large bouquet in his hands and raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat.

"I'm here to see Syianne King, she was admitted here yesterday."

The receptionist's gaze sharpened as she looked him over and he partially hid behind the flowers.

"Only family members are allowed to visit," she spoke slowly and Jake bit his lip in frustration.

"I'm her fiance," he said and before the surprised receptionist could say anything, he continued, "I drove here as soon as I got the call but they wouldn't tell me what happened. Only that Syianne had been in an accident and I needed to get here as soon as I could and I—" he cut himself off, shuffling nervously and wiping away the tears that had managed to escape from his eyes.

The receptionist softened, seeing his genuine sorrow and care for his fiance and warmed her voice.

"Of course, I'm sorry for what happened. She's in room 309, third floor. The elevator is down the hall," she pointed and Jake thanked her profusely before walking ahead.

Him being Syianne's fiance might have been fake but everything he had felt was the truth and he felt overwhelmed now that he was here. Should he see her? Did he even deserve to see her after he put her in danger? Thoughts like this plagued his mind all the way to Syianne's room and they only stopped when he saw '309' written in bold letters on a grey coloured door.

His breath stuttered in his chest. He was second guessing his presence in the hospital, thinking whether he shouldn't have come. He stood in front of the door for about ten minutes, contemplating but when the nurses started giving him suspicious looks, he swallowed thickly and with shaky hands, opened the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for the utter despair and helplessness he felt, as he saw Syianne's motionless form on the bed, breathing as if she was just sleeping and would wake up any minute. But he knew that wasn't the truth.

She was here and it was his fault.

For the longest time, he just sat on a chair beside her bed and just looked at her. His eyes traced every injury, every bruise that was visible and he felt sick, blaming himself for letting it happen. She was still sleeping and suddenly, it just got too much.

There was too much light, too much beeping, the walls were too white, the flowers in his hands digging into his skin and he got up hastily, dropping the bouquet and backed into the furthest corner of the room.

His breath was coming in short bursts, it hurt to breath, to think, to stay upright—!

His legs gave from under him and he slid down, back against the wall, shaking hands coming up to wipe the wetness on his face.

He didn't even realise he had been crying.

His vision was a blur of dark shapes and in a distinct corner of his head that was still sane, he thought of what Syianne would have done had she been awake. He was sure she would kneel down in front of him and take his hands, running her thumbs against the back of his hands to calm him.

'Breathe slowly, Jake. Deep breaths with me, come on,' he heard her in his head and tried to slow down, breathing harshly at first but after a few minutes, his vision cleared and his breathing stabled to an acceptable rate.

His whole body shook with the sheer suddenness of the panic attack and he slowly tried to get up, holding onto the wall as a support as his gaze, once again, landed on the bed and it's occupant.

All at once, his head cleared and he knew what to do.

Snatching a sheet of paper from the notepad lying near her chart, Jake penned his thoughts, all his anguish, and his apologies on it. Not once did his hand shake as he wrote the note and not once did his mind waver from the decision he had made. At last, when he had said everything he wanted to, he put the pen down and glanced at Syianne's peaceful face.

His throat closed up but he swallowed once to make sure he didn't cry. No, Jake had no time for tears. It was his fault that this happened in the first place, so it was his responsibility that he would make it right.

He didn't know when she would wake but whenever it might be, Jake had everything he wanted to say, already written for her.

He bent down towards her and placed the softest of kisses against her forehead, knowing that it would be the only time he would ever get to do it.

She did not open her eyes and Jake stepped back with a miniscule tilt of his lips.

Yes, he would make everything right.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Edge is heading back into work, but since when do his days ever go smoothly?

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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It was entirely too soon for him to be returning to work by Edge’s measure. Two days off after a kidnapping was a paltry concession and he would have preferred at least working from home for the rest of the week. The Embassy wasn’t particularly far from New New Home, but depending on traffic and stoplights, it could take nearly half an hour to drive between them, not including the time it took to get to his car.

Time enough for so many things to go wrong and for Stretch to be alone when it did.

But despite his preference, two mornings after he’d brought Stretch home, Edge was pulling into the Embassy parking lot and ignoring the shouts of the protestors on the other side of the street as he walked in, though he didn’t extend his cane until he was inside the front entrance.

The issue at hand was not with his employment. Stretch was the one all but pushing him out their front door and he’d done so with a massive spew of words coupled with wild gestures, all of which boiled down to him not needing a babysitter while he was at home.

Edge didn’t have the soul to argue with him about it, particularly since he was right. There were already enough new violations of his boundaries, and past experience taught that he would start to chafe under them soon enough. Perhaps it was already beginning; exhausted as he was, he’d still slept restlessly the night before and while Stretch often tossed and turned, this time it was enough to disturb Edge’s own sleep, his subconscious crying out that this was not a familiar level of thrashing.

He’d still been in bed when Edge left though not asleep, muttering something about heading down to his lab to check on his experiments. Edge hoped that he did; if he could get absorbed in his own version of mad science, it would be a good distraction for the day, one that was very much needed. Red was supposed to stop by at some point about the bodyguard assignment and while Edge asked his brother to wait for him to get home, there was no telling if he would. If he deemed Edge’s presence unnecessary, Red would do as he liked and to hell with waiting for his brother.

With that in mind, Edge’s plan was to work as swiftly as he could today without sacrificing accuracy so that he could leave on time, perhaps even early, in an effort to thwart anything Red might attempt for his own amusements. But as so often happened, plans had a way of changing and in very unexpected ways.

When he’d arrived at the Embassy that morning, he’d been hyperaware of the stares that followed behind him from the moment he came through the door. From the security guard at his station to the interns to the janitors, eyes and whispers lingered in his wake. Whatever hopes he’d had for discretion about the kidnapping incident were quickly dismissed; it was obviously the talk of the office though no one was bold enough to confront him about it directly. As Red often said, ‘the only way to keep a secret is if ya kill the guy who told ya’ and considering how many witnesses were at the bar that night when Stretch and Jeff were taken, that option was not exactly feasible, if it ever was.

The local news was plastered with stories, some sticking with the one provided by the Embassy and others filled with wild speculations. Monsters were hardly immune to gossip and Stretch often featured on both sides of the rumor equation.

As for his usual partner in crime, Jeff was taking the week off and Antwan with him, and while Edge could appreciate the urge to get back to some form of normalcy, he couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy to think the two of them were probably curled in bed together sleeping while he was fending off the glares of his co-workers.

He deliberately kept his limping pace normal on his way to his office, refusing to give the gossip any further fuel. That worked well enough until he went inside. Janice was already at her desk and she looked up when he entered, her long ears swiveling in his direction and her pink nose twitching as she gave him a narrow look.

He wondered if she was disappointed in him for coming in today. The thought made him want to look away from her direct gaze and he forced himself not to, saying crisply, “Good morning.”

But perhaps he was only projecting his own troubled thoughts because Janice only replied with a certain gentle concern, “Good morning. How is Stretch doing?”

Yes, the gossip traveled quickly, indeed. Edge hesitated, then said with cautious honesty, “He’s doing better.”

She nodded and didn’t press. Absently, she reached out to straighten the picture frame on her desk of her two children. Edge understood the impulse. “If you need anything, either of you, please do let me know.”

“I will,” Edge said. He meant it. Somehow in the past year their relationship had gone from a strictly working one to something akin to friends, a change that came about right around the time he’d married Stretch. Another way his love had changed his life for the better.

Still, it was a relief for her expression to change in a flash from motherly concern to businesslike briskness. “I’ve already emailed your agenda for the day, nothing particularly robust, but you do have a meeting in an hour with Toriel.”

“Toriel.” Edge blinked in surprise. Technically, Toriel didn’t work for the Embassy in a similar way to Stretch. She acted as Frisk’s guardian, and while she certainly handled things she likely shouldn’t at her own discretion, they were the diplomat, not her. What could she want to discuss that she couldn’t have come to their home?

He set his laptop case down and dug out his phone, opening the email app and scrolled to his daily agenda to scan the list. The schedule said only, ‘Meeting with Toriel, 10am’ and gave no clues. “Did she happen to say what it was about?”

Janice shook her head. “I’m afraid not, she only contacted and asked for an appointment. I couldn’t think of a reason not to, so I gave her the first available timeslot.” Her voice uplifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“Of course you should,” Edge said, belatedly, “I’m perfectly willing to talk with her. I’m simply confused as to why.”

Janice offered him a faint smile and raised eyebrows. “I suppose in an hour you’ll find out.”

“I suppose I will,” Edge sighed. He picked up his laptop and headed into his office, already considering whether to brave the gauntlet again for a cup of coffee or to relinquish is pride and ask Janice to retrieve one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any surprises and a meeting with the former Queen would likely offer them, in spades.

~~*~~

If there was one thing to appreciate about meeting with Toriel, it was her promptness. At precisely 9:59 am Janice buzzed him that she’d arrived.

Edge took a moment to drain the last of the lukewarm coffee from his cup, brought to him by Janice without any prompting from him, further proof of what an excellent assistant she was. He saved the document he was working on before he replied, “Send her in.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when his door opened, Toriel’s bulk filling the entryway. She had to duck her head to fit through the entrance, barely missing bumping her horns on the trim.

“Please, come in,” Edge said. He ignored his cane where it leaned against the side of his chair and instead walked cautiously as he came around it. He gestured to the sofa rather than the chairs at his desk; Toriel was not a small Monster, but his office was designed for visits with everyone, up to and including Asgore himself.

“Thank you,” Toriel said. Her voice was soft enough that it seemed one should strain to hear it, and yet it still carried clearly through the room. She seated herself where he’d indicated, folding her lightly furred hands into her lap.

Edge hadn’t spent a great deal of time with Toriel outside of Embassy functions and the few times he’d traveled along with the diplomats. Even then, he’d kept a cautious distance from her. Despite the small glasses perched on her muzzle, her soft purple dress and motherly cardigan she wore, as a Boss Monster, there was a certain aura of power that she carried that no casual outfit could stifle. Her status might be simply as Frisk’s guardian, but even Humans couldn’t fail to notice it. Adding in that Edge had no basis of comparison with her counterpart in Underfell, put simply, she made him faintly uncomfortable, despite the common interest in puns she shared with several members of his family.

“Would you like a drink?” He barely caught himself before asking if she’d care for tea, already knowing the answer to that. She and Stretch should be closer friends, they could bond over their mutual dislike of the King. “Water? Fruit juice?”

“Water would be lovely,” Toriel said. The words were merely polite, he sincerely doubted she’d come here for refreshments.

From the small fridge in the corner, he retrieved a bottle of water. He set it on a coaster rather than hand it to her and took the seat across from her, folding his hands into his lap in an unconscious mirror of hers. “What can I do for you?” Edge asked.

Without preamble, Toriel said, “You saved my child’s life, and mine.”

That was far from any topic he’d expected she wanted to discuss. If anything, he’d supposed she might wish for more personal information regarding the kidnapping and rather than trusting the gossips, she’d gone to a reliable source. That she might want to talk about their last meeting hadn’t even occurred to him.

The incident in California was not so long ago and yet, despite his lingering scars, the event itself had mostly left his mind. Yes, it was traumatic and yes, he’d certainly be feeling the aftereffects for some time. But it wasn’t his way to linger over such things; it happened, it was over, and now there was only to move onto introducing new safeguards to keep such a thing from happening again.

He considered Toriel’s statement with care before offering cautiously, “Anything I could do to keep you and your child safe, I was willing to offer.”

“I’m sure you were, and are.” Toriel’s eyes were a shade of red unlike his own eye lights. In a way, they were more like Red’s and his way of seeing things deeper than should be possible. “And I am willing to offer my own gift for that kindness. I’ve noticed your leg is still troubling you.”

Edge struggled against shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself not to look down at the leg in question. He was wearing the brace today as he always did in the office, not because he thought he particularly needed it, but due to his suspicions that Janice would discreetly tattle to Stretch if he didn’t. It was a tradeoff for leaving their strictly business relationship behind. “It’s healing, it simply takes time.”

“Indeed,” Toriel inclined her head in agreement. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow it. It wouldn’t begin to pay my debt to you but—”

“Your Highness,” Edge interrupted gently, “you don’t owe me anything. I’m well aware that you saved my life after the explosion.”

“I’m no longer the Queen, Toriel is fine,” Her interruption was less gentle and for one who claimed no title, her tone made him want to straighten his spine and come to attention, a habit he’d thought gone along with Underfell. “And your life wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t saved mine.”

“Toriel,” Edge said deliberately, “if you’re offering to heal me, I have a doctor, they’ve done as much with healing magic as they can.”

“I’m sure they have. Which is why I’m offering. My skills are somewhat more…” she hesitated, settling on, “Robust, than other Monsters.”

As a Boss Monster, that was surely true, and Edge couldn’t help considering it.

She’d used her magic on him before, and while that was an emergency, he could hardly protest her doing it again. And what she was offering was gift unlike any other. The opportunity to be healed, to be able to return to his normal activities was tempting to be sure, but what irritated more was his brother keeping him at arm’s-length during the kidnapping. If he’d been more capable, if his leg wasn’t slowing him down, would Red have forced him to stay home instead of allowing him to provide some real assistance? There was no way to tell now, but if he could keep it from happening in the future…?

But Edge also knew that things that seemed too good to be true often were and that there was little in life that came without some sort of price attached. He’d gotten such a gift from the Angel already, if one believed in such things, in the love given to him by Stretch. Asking for more seemed greedy.

Toriel only waited serenely, perhaps understanding his inner turmoil.

“There’s no chance this could have a negative effect,” Edge said slowly. “I’ve made a great deal of progress already, I won't have it set back."

“None at all,” Toriel assured him. “I wouldn’t offer if there was even a chance.” She shifted in her seat, briefly looking away as if his bookcases had suddenly caught her interest. “I would have offered sooner but you must understand, this sort of healing is very draining. If it got out I could do this, Monsters would be lining up at my door, begging for treatment.” She shook her head, her mouth pulling downward unhappily, and suddenly she seemed older and weary. “I can only do as much as I can.”

“I understand.” He did. It was the same reason they’d chosen to keep Monsters’ ability to heal from the Humans. There were limits to the care anyone could provide. Still, his immediate impulse to agree warred with his cautious reluctance. “Then why now?”

“Why not now?” Toriel countered. She spread her empty hands in something like a plea. “I can’t heal every Monster, but what point is it for me to have these gifts if I can’t use them to help someone who was injured by helping me? I owe you a debt, Edge, and I mean to pay it.”

The steel in her voice resonated and the determined need to repay a debt was certainly something he could understand. Edge straightened and inclined his head formally, “I accept your offer.”

A smile lit Toriel’s face and that melancholy fell away as she clapped her hands together like a child rather than the powerful, centuries-old Monster that she was. “Wonderful! Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Edge said, surprised. He’d expected her to need to make some preparations, perhaps arrange for a secret meeting someplace out of the way and not well watched. If there was such a place when one considered his brother.

But Toriel only nodded. “Oh, yes. It won’t take long.”

She rose from the sofa and crouched down next to him. A bit nonplussed, he helped her unbuckle the splint and remove it, and as always, there was a slight, uncomfortable twinge with its support gone. Worse was the awkward intimacy in the way she settled her hands on his leg, even over his trousers, her fingers shifting into precise positions as she closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

Edge had been healed before, too many times to count. Rarely in Underfell, healing there was usually scoffed at and often considered a weakness as it was a difficult skill for those with LV. But in this universe, Stretch, Blue, even Toriel herself had healed him in the past, little wounds mostly, except for California.

He hadn’t been in a position to pay attention the last time she’d used her magic on him, drifting in and out of consciousness, but here there was nothing to distract him. Her magical signature was a deft one, not the brusque force of his brother or familiar honeyed languidness of Stretch or even Blue, who managed to somehow be both forceful and nearly timid at the same time. The greenness of healing came at a delicate trickle at first, seeking and finding the places in his leg that still ached with cunning skill, sinking in. In tiny increments, that trickle became a flood, and then a torrent, and the sensation was indescribable. Not pain, that was far too simple a word, but the deep power that carried healing into his leg and further, seeking out his very essence. Edge shied away instinctively as it sought out his soul, trying to escape that implacable, almost ethereal touch, but it didn’t invade or violate, only swirled briefly through his ribcage in a sort of greeting before returning to the task at hand, or rather, at leg, before it slowly withdrew into empty nothingness.

Edge opened his sockets, hardly aware of closing them, to see Toriel closing her own eyes as she wobbled on her feet, sinking back to sit on the floor with her legs tucked under her and her skirt demurely covering them.

“Your Highness,” Edge said in concern. He reached for her automatically, hesitating before touching her. Even though his gloves he could still feel the aura of roused magic surrounding her.

She opened her eyes. “Toriel,” she corrected with a slight smile, waving his hands away. She retrieved the bottle of water from the table, opening it and taking a long drink, then sighed out, “I’m fine. How are you?”

In answer, Edge stood, striding across the room and back again. The lingering weakness and frustrating ache of the past weeks were entirely gone. The urge to tests his limits was strong and he wondered giddily what anyone would make of it if they caught him racing up and down the stairwell with his coattails flapping behind him.

As if reading his thoughts and perhaps she was to some extent, they wouldn’t be difficult to guess, Toriel cautioned, “I suggest you wear the brace for a little longer. It might keep the curious from asking questions.”

Edge was about to agree, then amended it, “I won’t lie to Stretch. If he asks.”

To his surprise, Toriel let out of a peal of soft laughter and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll know the moment he sees you.”

That he hadn’t expected and Edge could only stare at her, aghast, “What?

Her smile turned incredulous. "You have my magic clinging to you, do you truly think he won't notice? Papyrus of all people?"

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that and he wished he'd known before he agreed. Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn’t it, and that was a meal he’d have to swallow when it came to the table.

Belatedly, he realized Toriel was attempting to climb up from the floor and he hastily leaned down to help. Her weight was easily triple his own but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet.

“Well!” Toriel said with a soft sigh as she dusted off her dress. “I’ll leave you to your duties, then. I need to get back to Frisk, they have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister of Japan, and I wanted to brush up on the agenda.”

“Yes, of course, your—Toriel,” Edge correctly hastily. He couldn’t help flexing his knee again, still giddy with the pain-free movement of the joint. “Thank you, Toriel. This means a great deal to me, past simply healing.” She’d already turned to the door and paused, turning back to him.

There was a certain familiar impishness to her smile as she said, “If you truly wanted to thank me, you could try calling me Tori.”

In answer, Edge only bowed deeply to her and said, sincerely, “I’m afraid the attempt would be too much for me and might undo all the damage you healed. I would hate to be the cause of ruining all your hard work.”

Her soft laughter washed over him in a gentle wave and she shook her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” Her amused expression shifted to seriousness, “And Edge? Anything I could do to help you, I was willing to offer.”

Edge inclined his head in wry acknowledgement and with a last smile, she went out the door, leaving him alone in his office. Alone with his leg in perfect working condition and itching to be used.

A jog up the stairs might be out of the question, but there was no reason he couldn’t walk down to get another cup of coffee. With the brace on for now, and by next week? Perhaps he could risk going without, at least in the morning, if the stares died down by then. Time would tell.

He sat down to strap the blasted thing back on, its lack of necessity making it all the more annoying.

Soon, he told himself, soon.

Despite the events of the past few days, Edge felt lighter than he had in weeks. He only hoped Stretch’s reaction would be as pleased as his own.

Once the brace was properly on, Edge retrieved his cup from his desk and went down the hallway to the breakroom to fill it, giving Janice’s curious glance a sedate nod and careful to keep his steps slow and measured so as to not rouse any suspicions.

On the leg brace he would concede, an annoying necessity to be sure. But the cane? That, he left behind.

tbc

[fanfics-of-marvel]

Tony dies and Natasha is devastating by her boyfriend’s death until he comes back as an angel with beautiful wings. I keep things simple so your creativity isn’t withheld. Love your work!

Hello @chuckshurleyfucks

Remember me? You sent me this really great prompt so long ago and I am really sorry this comes after so much time! :( I don’t have much time to write and often I’m away from tumblr for some time. But I told myself that I’ll finish each and every request in my inbox NO MATTER WHAT and I fianlly had the chance to write yours. :)

I really hope it resembles what you desired to read and I can only hope it was worth the wait!

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REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Release date: 21/04/21

Pairing: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Tony dies in an accident and Natasha is devastated. After the funeral, however, she has an unexpected meeting with him.

Words count: 3 139

A/N: I guess I could call it a magical AU :)

Warnings: None, maybe a little bit of angst

Requests | Masterlist

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

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“Tony Stark was a great man,” Rhody’s voice echoed in the capacious room in the Avengers Headquarters. “Despite being Tony Stark”.

Laughter rose among the attendants. Natasha smiled, too. For the first smile since the accident.

A picture of Tony himself filled the giant screen behind Rhody. He turned around and looked at his best friend. Nobody could see but his eyes were watery. Rhody turned back to the crowd.

“Is it me or was his head actually this size?” he said as he pointed at the enormous photo of Tony projected on the wall.

Everyone laughed again. Even louder than before. Natasha’s smile was even bigger.

‘Oh, it was,’ she thought to herself.

After the ceremony was over Natasha retired to their room. She closed the door behind her and leaned upon its massive structure. She stared at the empty bed with an even emptier gaze. It looked bigger now.

Natasha waddled to the wardrobe. She pushed the door and walked inside an even bigger room. The lights turned on automatically. It was Tony and Natasha’s private wardrobe. She walked to the hangers holding Tony’s suits. Natasha slowly slid her hand upon one of them and closed her eyes. She pictured her loved one in it on Wanda and Vision’s wedding. He was smiling, he was laughing, life was flowing through his veins.

‘Congratulations,’ he had said hugging the newlywed couple.

‘Thank you, Mr. Stark’, Vision had replied. ‘Perhaps, sir, now it is your turn,’ he had added nodding towards Natasha.

Tony had looked at his girlfriend across the garden with twinkling eyes. ‘Perhaps, it is,’ he had whispered heard only by the bride and groom.

Natasha opened her eyes and a tear slid down her face. Her skin was still moist from all the preceding crying. She let the tear flow down freely. Its final destination was on her bosoms.

Natasha walked towards another suit. She held it with both her hands and shove her face at it. She took a deep breath and breathed in the leftover aroma from Tony’s perfume. He wore this suit just a week ago. As Natasha sniffed the fabrics she could hear Tony speaking.

“All just for you, my love,” he said while unfolding the blindfold upon Natasha’s eyes.

“Tony,” she gasped at the view of the beautifully decorated gazebo in the garden surrounded by flowers and burning candles.

It was a hot summer night. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the flowers. The discreet light of the candles provided perfect view of the stars above them. Crickets played a lovely concerto.

“Tonight it’s just you and me,” Tony said with tenderness and he literally meant it for the waiters were a few droids from his Iron Legion.

The night was going as planned and Tony knew there was only one final thing missing to make it perfect.

“Nat,” he said holding Natasha’s hands. “There is something I want to ask you. But you need to close your eyes.”

Natasha curved her lips in a smile and closed her eyes. She suspected what was to follow but it still took her by surprise.

“You can open them now,” Tony said with noticeable nervousness in his voice.

Natasha opened her eyes and a specific reflected light crossed her eyes. She looked down and saw the most beautiful diamond upon a ring. Her eyes met with Tony’s. They were sparkling even brighter than the diamond.

“Nat, will you marry me?”

Natasha sobbed. She had taken the ring box out of the internal pocket of the suit jacket. She opened it and looked at the ring. It seemed even more beautiful now. Out of fear not to lose it she kept it there safe during their final mission.

Natasha let it all out. The most gruesome sound exited her. Tears were falling down her face. She leaned towards the wall and slowly slid down. She was panting. The memory was too strong, too vibrant. She laid down completely squeezing the ring box at her chest. She closed her eyes and heard the bombarding again.

Two days ago Tony and Natasha were on what seemed to be nothing more than a routine mission. There was a minor terrorist attack just outside the city in which a small group of people threw grenades and shot at the nearby houses, stores, and cars. Agents of Tony and Natasha’s class weren’t needed at all but Tony had a thing against terrorists, so he couldn’t miss destroying some more. Natasha had joined him in the last moment. She always said he needed her back up, especially on the ground. Besides, she loved watching her future husband kicking ass in his latest Iron Man suit.

Natasha was smiling playfully as she observed Tony far up in the sky threatening the puny terrorists on the ground. His voice could be heard loud and clear even down there thanks to a special technology which he had recently developed. The three men seemed terrified and were yelling some words in Arabic, their arms were in the air and they dropped their weapons.

‘Easy peasy’, everyone thought at this view. The S.H.E.I.L.D. agents were looking at Tony with admiration wishing they had what he had and hoping that someday they’d possess at least half of Tony’s authority.

Natasha was smiling smugly and was already packing her ‘toys’ which she obviously wouldn’t need during this mission when she heard it. Loud thundering sounds coming from very near. She quickly looked around trying to figure out where did the sound come from. But before she managed to make a full turn the wave from the explosions threw her few meters behind. For a moment sand and dirt fell all over her face. A high-pitched noise rang in her ears. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, the world around her was spinning.

An impenetrable fog of sand and dust surrounded Natasha. The only thing she could perceive was the distant thunders of bombing and shooting. Except that it wasn’t distant. It was right there, so very close to her but her hearing was impaired. So when she heard that raw gruesome sound of metal hitting the ground hard she hadn’t whatsoever realized it was Tony himself. Natasha closed her eyes and felt completely senseless.

When she finally opened her eyes the world was still spinning but the high-pitched sound was getting weaker. Natasha couldn’t know how long she’d been on the ground unconscious.

‘Ambush,’ she thought to herself as she groaned trying to get up. Her legs were really unstable but somehow she managed to remain standing.

“Tony,” she tried to speak but barely any sound came out of her lips.

The sound of the bombing had seized. Now she could hear some distant noise of people screaming and could distinguish silhouettes running around.

“Tony!” Natasha shouted as loud as she could. The sound was still very quiet but she started to regain her senses.

The more Natasha walked towards those people, the better she could hear and see. The fog was clearing up and everything hitherto shapeless started to fall into pieces.

“Agent Romanoff, are you alright?” Natasha noticed a fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What happened? Where’s Tony?”

“There was an ambush, ma’am,” the man continued speaking. “After those three terrorists seemed to be surrendering there was whole artillery that appeared out of the blue hiding underneath enormous canvases that had perfectly blended with the landscape. They hit us unexpectedly, ma’am. They threw bombs, grenades and every hellish explosive you can think of,” the man stopped talking as if there was something more which he just didn’t want to say.

“Well, where’s Tony, then?” Natasha was persistent. There was no getting out of this.

The man sighed. The dust had almost completely settled, so Natasha could see his face quite clearly. There was something bad written in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, agent Romanoff,” the man finally said pointing away in a direction to her right.

Natasha followed his finger and with terror noticed the Iron Man suit lying on the ground in a little crater.

“Tony!” Natasha shouted and ran towards him.

Due to the shock from the explosions her legs and balance were still compromised, so she tripped and fell two times until she managed to get to Tony. He was lying on his back but from the traces of the impact it was clear that he hadn’t fallen that way and had been moved from the agents.

A paramedic was examining him as Natasha walked near. Her facial expression and eyes showed fear. The strongest fear she had ever felt in her entire life. Abruptly, her whole body started trembling, she couldn’t catch breath and tears flew down her face.

Tony was lying in his forcefully opened Iron Man suit covered in blood and bruises. She could barely recognize his face which seemed twisted now. The suit had absorbed part of the impact but he had fallen from a great height.

The paramedic was looking down shaking his head. A defibrillator lied near him obviously recently used. His colleague took a deep breath and then Natasha heard the worst words in her entire life.

“Time of death,” said the second paramedic and looked at his watch. “1:03 p.m.”

“No!” Natasha screeched so loudly that the two paramedics jumped startled. They hadn’t noticed her presence beforehand.

She gathered a whole lot of looks from other agents, as well. Some of which were also still unaware of the tragedy.

“Tony,” Natasha barely made a sound as she fell on her knees next to his dead body. Tears were falling down her face and she could barely breathe.

The two paramedics discreetly recoiled. They had to take care of the body but also knew they had to give Natasha a moment.

She gently placed her hands upon his distorted face. His blood was already drying but his skin was still warm. So warm as if he was still alive. Could it be that the paramedics were wrong? Natasha slowly slid her right hand and felt his carotid. No pulse.

Why had they given up? Natasha examined more of Tony’s body. There were noticeable fractures on his chest and abdomen. He definitely had broken ribs and most likely suffered from a punctured lung for his chest was purple and bloody. Some of the blood upon his face had surely flowed from his mouth.

There was no doubt. Tony Stark was dead and the tries of the paramedics had been unsuccessful.

“Agent Romanoff,” the paramedic spoke. “I’m really sorry but we need to take the body. It’s the protocol,” he paused for a moment. “You can see his body again at the mortuary.”

Natasha knew the protocol very well. She had followed it a little too many times with fellow agents. And she always kept in mind she might have to follow it with Tony, as well. Or he with her. She had always hoped for the latter one. As cruel as it sounded to prefer to cause Tony such pain she hoped she’d never have to live it herself because she would be the dead one.

“Goodbye, Tony,” Natasha quietly said and kissed his forehead.

Then she got up and walked away. She heard the team preparing to take his body. She kept on walking and never looked back.

Natasha looked at the ring. It dispersed the light from the ceiling so beautifully that the entire wardrobe was shining bright. She hadn’t put it on ever since she took it off for their final mission together.

With trembling hands Natasha took the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. She was much calmer now. The tears upon her face had started drying. She remembered about the dinner on which he proposed to her. A smile appeared on her face. It was sad that Tony was gone but it was a virtue to have had him in her life.

“Natasha,” a barely perceptible sound.

Natasha looked up and around her. She thought she heard a noise but assumed it was nothing.

“Natasha,” there was it again. This time a little louder.

“Who’s in there?” she asked confused and a little concerned. Nobody else had access to their bedroom. “Rhody, is that you?” she got up and walked towards the wardrobe’s door. The sound seemed to be coming from the bedroom.

“Natasha,” this time she heard it more clearly.

She stopped sharply right at the door. The voice sounded like Tony’s. Her eyes got watery and her breathing stopped for a moment. Could it be?

“Nat,” he said again this time very clearly. “It’s me.”

There was a very bright white light coming from the bedroom. Natasha slowly walked out of the wardrobe. She gasped and dropped the ring box.

Tony was floating in the air just above their bed bathed with beautiful heavenly light. He was dressed in all white and behind him there were big beautiful angel wings. Even though Tony was being Tony Natasha had always known that he was just like this on the inside – a beautiful angel.

“Tony?” she said with trembling voice.

“Hello, my love.” Tony spoke with a tender and soothing voice.

Natasha’s lower lip trembled. She never thought she’d see him again.

“Tony? Is that really you?” she asked with a hoarse voice.

“Yes, my love. It’s me,” Tony replied with a gentle smile.

Natasha shook her head. This all must have been an illusion. She assumed it was the shock and all of the emotions from the past week which were playing with her mind. Or perhaps she had fallen asleep in the wardrobe.

“Come here,” Tony said as he floated down and stepped on the floor facing her. He outstretched his hands and gently placed them at the sides of her face.

Natasha shuddered at the touch. It felt so real. She lifted her hands as well. Tony’s face was warm again.

He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. Natasha’s knees felt weaker.

“How is this possible?” Natasha asked after Tony moved away.

“The ring,” Tony said as he took her hand in his. “It’s a very special stone. It’s connected to my soul.”

Natasha gasped. How?

“More magical things than Doctor Strange exist on this world,” Tony said wittily. “And I got my hands on this,” he pointed at the stone upon the ring. “As long as you wear it I will always know where you are, I will always feel you, and I will always be your guardian angel.”

“I want you back, Tony,” Natasha said with hope.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Nat,” a bitter smile.

Not the reply she wanted to hear.

“But I will always be with you,” Tony said gently fondling her cheek. “I will be a barely perceptible presence. Always there next to you, just one breath away. You might sometimes spot me with the corner of your eye. But you will never be able to see me,” tears fell down Natasha’s face. “You will always be showered in my heavenly light. And you will always be protected by my angel wings,” Tony held her left hand. “As long as you wear the ring,” he smiled softly.

Natasha looked down at her hand gently placed in Tony’s. His skin was so warm, so alive. She had to check. Her right hand slid upon his wrist. Her fingers found the spot.

Nothing.

Tony had no pulse.

“Oh, my love,” Tony whispered softly.

Natasha’s whole body was trembling. Her hand did another check-up.

Strong lively heart rate. Slightly accelerated.

“If I take my pulse away will I be able to be with you?” she stammered in tears.

“Oh, Nat,” Tony sighed. “Great things await you. The world needs your protection.”

“The world needs your protection.”

Tony fondled her face again. “The only one who needs my protection is you.”

“But I want you here with me,” Natasha burst into tears. “Next to me, all of the time. Fighting beside me, kissing me, loving me,” she was falling apart. “Please, Tony,” Natasha wrapped her arms around him and shove her face at his chest weeping.

Tony placed his hands on Natasha’s head as his wings surrounded her. Natasha calmed down in an instant. She felt completely relaxed and balanced. There was warmness and peace.

Natasha placed her ear next to Tony’s chest. But it was an empty chest. There was no treasure for her in there.

“Nat, stop searching for my heart here,” Tony said. “You know it’s there,” he placed his fingers upon her chest. “I gave it to you long time ago. And it’s where it will always be.”

Natasha felt warmness in her chest. For a moment it seemed like there were two hearts beating as one. She smiled gazing into Tony’s eyes. She didn’t want this moment to end.

“Now you need some sleep,” Tony said and holding Natasha’s hand he pulled her towards the bed.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. That means time not spent with you,” Natasha objected.

“Shhh, my love,” Tony gently placed his finger upon her lips. “I’ll be right next to you.”

He laid down on one side and his angel wing was spread on the bed. Natasha joined him and lied upon it. He embraced her with his arms and then with his wings. It took her seconds to fall asleep perfectly calm and relaxed feeling completely protected for the first time in her life.

When Natasha woke up the next morning she was alone on the bed. There was no trace of Tony. She looked at her left hand. The ring was there reflecting the light just as beautifully. She wondered about last night. Did it all happen or was it a dream? She assumed it was the latter and got out of bed. She had fallen asleep with clothes on and smutched make-up. She needed a shower.

Just as Natasha was about to walk in the bathroom she spotted a barely perceptible presence with the corner of her eye. She turned around startled but didn’t see anybody. Her breathing quickened. She rubbed her eyes assuming it was sleepiness and tiredness.

When Natasha calmed down she could swore she felt somebody else’s breath at the side of her face. She felt calm and relaxed. There was a warm feeling surrounding her. She slid her hands at the sides of her arms sinking in the feeling and closed her eyes. Her right hand touched her chest. Two hearts beating as one.

Natasha smiled. She opened her eyes and stared into the nothingness in front of her. There was something she could spot with the corner of her eye. A barely perceptible presence watching over her as her guardian angel.

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[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Paperwork

 Part 3 of the Reba au. Pat one and part two.

Summary: The weekend comes and Janus deals with paperwork, one-night stands, and meeting his ex-husband's new boyfriend. 

A/N: So I went on a vacation to see @forever-forgotten-angel and took a break from writing. But I'm back and writing! Special thanks as always to @amazon-me-bitches and my qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this fic! And now, without further ado, my fic.

~

When Janus woke up on Friday things seemed almost normal. He dropped Emile and Remy off at school, Patton agreed to pick them up. Virgil had ridden with Thomas, which meant that Janus didn’t have to worry about any pickups today. That was good, considering he was working late. He had a trial coming up in two weeks, a factory worker who’d been injured on the job due to company negligence of machinery. Janus had been happy to take the case. 

 Of course, it meant that he wasn’t leaving the office until 8 PM. Janus yawned as he left the office, ready to get home and sleep. It would be lovely. A full night’s worth of sleep and then the weekend. Not that he wouldn’t be working of course. But his home office was far superior to the one he had at work. Maybe he’d take the boys out for a picnic if he had time. That would be nice. Emile had been wanting to go to the park and see the ducks before it got too cold. They could feed the ducks.

Janus was interrupted from his thoughts by a loud clang. He reached for his pepper spray, better safe than sorry. There were clangs, seeming to come from a dumpster next to the parking lot. It was most likely a raccoon but Janus wasn’t taking any chances. He began quickly walking to his car, eyes trained on the dumpster the whole time. He was halfway to his car when the source of the noises showed itself.

 Janus prided himself on his eloquent speech but all he could find it in himself to say was, “What?”. Brilliant Janus, just brilliant. 

 It was a person, taller than Janus. They had dark curly hair from what Janus could see, and a mustache as well. They held a possum in their arms. Janus blinked, “What did I tell you about running off Tallulah? You’re not going to find any tasty treats in a law office’s dumpster. We have to go to taco bell for that. The only thing you’ll find in there is paper, office supplies, and-”, they looked up and made eye contact with Janus, “And the sexiest man alive.”

They’d ran up to Janus before he had a chance to react, “Hello sexy. Are you a lawyer? Because it’s illegal for someone to be as sexy as you are.”

 “Sorry about that. I tend to get over-excited.”, they offered a hand out to shake, “I’m Remus. He/him pronouns.”

“Janus.”, he found himself saying, “He/him pronouns. What exactly were you doing in the dumpster?”

“How dare you insinuate that Tallulah is merely a pet. She is my baby.” 

 “Oh! Tallulah here thought she could get snacks in that dumpster over there so I had to get her out.”, he held up the possum in his arms.

“Right. And Tallulah is your pet?”

 “Well, it appears your baby wants to eat office supplies.”, Janus reached out to pet the possum in question,  scritching her ears. He smiled as she leaned into the touch. He smiled at the sight.

 “Believe me she doesn’t want that. I’ll take her to taco bell. She enjoys their burritos. You’re more than welcome to join if you want?”, it was a stupid idea. They’d just met, Remus was a total stranger. He could be a serial killer for all Jan knew.

 Message sent to Patton at 8:23 PM.

 “Hey Pat, don’t wait up for me. I’m gonna get take out on the way home. Make sure Remy’s homework is done before he plays on the Switch.”

 ~

Taco Bell, Janus thought, was best enjoyed at night. They’d gotten fast food and now sat out in the parking lot, a feast of fast food laid out before them. He watched as Tallulah happily ate her promised bean burrito. It was nice, relaxing even. Janus smiled as he watched, “So how does one end up with a pet possum?”

Remus grinned, “I birthed her from my womb.”, seeing Janus’ unamused expression he turned serious, “I rescue animals. She was rescued from an exotic pet dealer. She can’t be rehabilitated into the wild, unfortunately.”

“I see. She’s very sweet.”, Janus continued petting the possum in question, “So what do you do with your time? Besides rescue possums and climb into dumpsters of course." 

 “I’m a midwife actually.”, Remus grinned. Janus looked over to where he had unhinged his jaw to deepthroat his burrito like a snake. He waited for Remus to finish before speaking. 

 “A midwife?”

 Remus nodded, “Yeah. I make bank. Which is nice cause it means I can foster lots of animals.”, he continued deepthroating the burrito.

 Well, that was unexpected. Janus stared at the man in front of him delivering babies and truthfully he couldn’t picture it. Remus seemed more like the type of person to go into a job that didn’t involve babies. He seemed more likely to own a demolition derby, “You don’t seem like the type. Can I ask a dumb question?”

 “Sure.”

 “Well, it’s not a question. I just didn’t know men could be midwives.”

 “It shocks a lot of people actually. Most people don’t think women would be comfortable working with me.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true.”

 “I work with trans men mostly. Having a trans midwife is reassuring. I know what they’re going through. And sometimes cis midwives can be judgy.”

“You’re trans?”

 “Is he?”

 “Yep.”

“Well then.”, Janus took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully, “My son’s pregnant.”

 “Yeah. It’s been super stressful because he’s 17.”, Janus sighed, “How much would it cost for you to work with us? Any resources would be helpful.”

 “For you? I’ll do it for free. I know all too well what it’s like to be a pregnant teen. And I think you’re cute.”, he winked and Janus felt his face warm in a way he hadn’t felt in years. 

 “You- you got pregnant as a teen?”, he forced himself to get out. Remus nodded and for a brief second Janus thought he saw a tear in his eye. 

 “Yeah but I miscarried. Lack of resources and all. So now I make sure that no one else has to go through what I went through.”

 Message sent to Patton at 11 PM

 “That’s amazing. You have to let me pay you though.”

“I told you, helping a cutie like you out is payment enough.”, he leaned forward, “I wouldn’t mind a kiss though. That is, if you’re agreeable?”, Remus leaned forward and Janus could smell his cologne. The warm, spicy, citrus scent drove him wild. It was like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring at the abyss below. And Janus was happy to fall.

 Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be back late.

 ~

Patton Picani-Hart had never been a morning person. Sure, he wanted to be; but late nights at the restaurant and his sleep schedule meant that he had trouble pulling himself out of bed in the morning. It also meant he could barely function without at least three cups of coffee. He was currently standing in front of the coffee maker, staring at it as if he could will the coffee to brew faster. 

 It had been a long night. Janus had to work late, which meant it was up to Patton to pick up Emile and Remy from school and drive them home. Luckily Virgil and Thomas had agreed to watch them because then he had to rush back to the restaurant for the dinner shift. He got back by 11 to all of the kids asleep and leftover greek food waiting for him. He’d been so tired that he’d eaten the food and fallen asleep immediately, never seeing the message he had from Janus.

 He hadn’t seen it until the morning when he awoke to Emile sitting on his chest asking for food. A quick check of his phone revealed it was 9 am and Janus had stayed out all night. So Patton did the only thing he could do; he got dressed and went downstairs to make breakfast.  Six breakfast burritos later, and he was beginning to wonder where Janus was. Clearly, he’d had a good night if he was gone for this long. At least he hoped it was good. Regardless, it was good for Janus to start exploring romance again if he was ready. Hopefully, the relationship would be good for him. He couldn’t wait to hear the details. 

 Patton was considering calling him when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. Janus walked through the door. His hair stuck out in multiple directions, his suit was unkempt, and Patton could see multiple hickeys on his chest. It had been a good night after all. He handed him a cup of coffee, “Good morning. Looks like you had a good night.”

 Janus blushed and Patton knew exactly how good of a night he’d had. He grinned as he watched the man in question try to come up with an excuse, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”, his ex may have had a silver tongue, but that all went away when he was flustered. 

 “I’m not mad. You seem to forget that we’re separated, soon to be divorced. Going out is healthy.”, Patton handed him a plate of food with a smile, “So who is he?”

 “His name is Remus and we met last night. He’s nice. I invited him over for dinner Tuesday night.”, Patton frowned. Having a one-night stand was one thing, heck dating was fine. But bringing this guy around the kids after one date didn’t seem like the best idea. 

 “I support you dating Jan, but don’t think you should date a little bit longer before bringing him home. Virgil won’t mind but it might confuse Emile and Remy.”, it was the truth. The boys would be confused if Janus introduced them to a new boyfriend and then it didn’t work out. Best to wait until it was serious. That was what Patton had done.

 Janus blinked as if it was a new idea to him. “Pat, I’m not introducing him as my boyfriend. He’s a midwife. I invited him over to meet Virge. I thought it might be a good idea to have a midwife as well as an OBGYN.” 

 Patton sighed in relief; he didn’t want to sound like a jealous ex, especially when he’d been the one to ask for the divorce. This Remus coming over as a midwife was different though. And it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry if the kids would be confused. Speaking of the kids, Emile ran in at that moment, practically bouncing in his shoes, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

 ~

 Janus smiled at their youngest, picking him up and balancing him on his hip, “Yep. How about you go get your brothers and then we can eat.”, Emile nodded and ran off as fast as he could. Janus nodded and went to leave the kitchen, “I should go change.”

Pat nodded, a thought coming to him, “Virgil wanted to come to help me prep for lunch rush today at the restaurant. Could you pick him up before the dinner rush? I don’t want to stress him.”, Janus nodded before leaving, leaving Patton alone to wonder what this Remus was like.

Janus hummed as he drove to Pat’s. He’d spent most of the day in the office today, getting caught up on his paperwork. He’d promised to take the boys to the park tomorrow for a picnic, which meant he had to get it all done today. Thomas had luckily agreed to watch Remy and Emile once Pat and Virgil left to prep for the day, giving Janus ample time to work. 

 Soon 5 o’clock came around and Janus was leaving to go pick up Virgil. He was sure that Virgil would be ready to go home. Janus had seen just how busy the restaurant could get during the dinner rush. Virgil may have wanted to be a chef, but he wasn’t ready for that. Especially right now.

 He pulled up behind the restaurant, parking in the employee parking lot. Inside he could see the kitchen was a flurry of work, prepping as much as possible before it got truly busy. Waving to the kitchen staff, Janus headed to the back office where he knew Patton would be finishing paperwork before he went to go work in the kitchen. Virgil would most likely be in there with him. Only he didn’t see Virgil when he entered the office. 

 Patton stood in front of his desk, kissing an unfamiliar man as if his life depended on it. Janus blinked before realizing this must be the Logan he’d heard about. He quickly realized he was staring and, unsure of what to do, coughed to announce his presence. Patton jumped and turned around, Logan blushing and looking down. 

 “Janus, hey, what are you doing here?”, Patton looked flustered, like they weren’t divorced, “This is Logan, I told you about him.”, behind him, Logan nodded, still blushing too much to properly speak.

 “Nice to meet you, I’m here to pick up Virgil. I said I’d be here at 5, remember?”

 Pat’s eyes went wide, “Is it 5 already? I need to go get started in the kitchen.”, he moved away from Logan and ran to put on his chef’s coat, “Virgil was taking inventory in the fridge. Janus nodded and left the office, hearing Logan saying he should get going as he left.

 He did in fact find Virgil in the freezer, stocking ingredients and taking note of what was low. Upon seeing his dad he handed the list to a cook before standing up to leave. They got to the car, Virgil getting in, and Janus was about to when he heard someone call his name.

 Logan stood in front of him, looking made together and not at all how he looked when Janus had seen him earlier, “Yes?” 

 Logan took a deep breath before speaking, “I just wanted to apologize that we had to meet like that. I wanted to meet you and the kids properly, not having you walk in on me kissing Patton goodbye.”, Janus nodded in understanding.

 “It’s fine. Patton and I were separated before you two started dating. Just treat him right. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about him. He has a good heart and I don’t want to see that heart broken.”

 “I never want to hurt him.”

 “Then we’ll have no issue. Goodbye then.”, Janus got in the car, giving the man a wave before driving off. He turned to Virgil, who was listening to music next to him, giving him a tap on the shoulder.

 Virgil looked up at him, taking off his headphones before speaking, “What’s up?”

 “How does Indian sound for dinner?”, Virgil nodded and Janus set off to get take out. There was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, “Virgil, you don’t mind if your father and I date again, right? I mean date people that aren’t each other.”

 Virgil shrugged, “It doesn’t bother me. You two are getting a divorce, dating seems to make sense. And I know you’ll both always be here for me and Remy and Emile.”, Janus nodded, comfortable in the fact that he knew at least one of his kids was ok with him dating.

~

A/N: We finally meet Remus and Logan. All that's left is Roman, who will be in the next part.

 Disclaimer: Possums are not pets, they are wild animals. Furthermore, I do not know their diet but I'm taco bell isn't part of it. Tallulah is a magical possum and real-life rules do not apply to her. Do not inbox me saying possums don't eat bean burritos. 

Besides that, I'm taking prompts for this verse, so if you have prompts send them in! I'd love to see your hcs for this au. And as always, if you like this fic, leave a comment. Thank you for reading!