#i wasn’t gonna post it but was encouraged to finish it so.. might as well post as it is rn

[gaydexvocaloid]

miku miku wip ^_^

[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels (let's exchange the experience) 4/?

Part 3 | AO3

Notes: We're back with more bodyswapping shenaningans, and an added round of basketball this time! This chapter turned into quite a lengthy one, so I hope y'all enjoy.

“So, uh…what exactly are we planning to tell the sheepies here when I fail the strength check and completely destroy my image as Steve Harrington, basketball star?” Eddie asked. 

He was back in the driver’s seat of the Beemer, parked out front at the Sinclair’s place while Lucas and Erica changed into whatever constituted more basketball court appropriate attire inside. Once the kids had finished up at the arcade, they’d headed straight over, Nancy being a total star and agreeing to chauffeur Dustin home before heading back to the Wheelers. …Something that was probably all for the best, really. Eddie was still pretty steamed at those two for the way they’d acted towards Steve–him as Steve, anyway–and he wasn’t quite sure what might have come spilling out of his mouth, if he got half a second with either of them alone. 

“...The strength check?” Steve repeated, face scrunching up with confusion.

“Oh, uh…if I roll a Nat 1 on any athletic feats I’m expected to pull off. Which, let’s face it. I’m probably going to.” When Steve’s expression failed to clear, Eddie explained, “D1 as in, you know…D&D.”

“Ohhh,” Steve breathed out in realization. His brow remained pinched, though, a sliver of tongue flicking out to trace his bottom lip as he clearly processed this new information. “Right, so like. D20 is winning the championship, which makes D1 basically…what, completely blowing the game before you've even made it to half time?”

“...Stevie, man, you know me well enough by now to know I don't have a single fucking clue how to answer that.”

Steve flapped a hand at him, blowing out a dismissive psst through his teeth. 

“You're not gonna blow it, dude. Alright? You've got me here, Hawkins very own former basketball co-captain, to talk you through it. Plus, I mean,” he gave Eddie’s hip what was presumably meant to be an encouraging couple of slaps, “you've also got the added bonus of having my muscle memory on your side. All-star combination, no chance you can miss.”

Eddie shook his head with a sarcastic chuckle. “Oh, ye of way too much faith. Need I remind you, dear Steven, I couldn't even catch the keys you threw at me this morning. Where exactly were all those stellar jock reflexes of yours then?”

“Huh. That’s a good point. But maybe it's like, uh…what do they call it? Mind over matter!” Steve snapped his fingers triumphantly, face lighting up. “All you need to do is just, you know…move the goal post on your expectations a little bit. Because there's no way I couldn't have made that catch. But you didn't think you could do it, and then you didn't. So just…I don’t know, tell the voice in your head that says you can't to knock it off, and then you'll have it in no time.”

He could feel the corner of his mouth twitching upwards, an endeared smile blooming across his face no matter how hard he tried to resist. “Harrington…did you just give me a pep talk?”

“I mean, I'm kinda like your coach now, dude. Hate to break it to you, but pep talks come with the territory.” Then Steve let out a quick sigh, running a hand up and over Eddie’s hair–he was getting a lot better already at remembering to dodge snagging his fingers in the curls. “Look, Eds, you can’t miss this. Alright? It’s…seriously really important to Lucas. I know you hate sports, or whatever, but–just give it a chance, yeah? You never know. Maybe it won’t be as terrible as you think.” 

“I don’t hate them,” Eddie protested defensively.

Steve’s only response was to cock an eyebrow, sending Eddie a single skeptical and devastatingly sardonic look.

And…yeah, okay. That was fair. It’d only been a few hours ago that he’d reacted to Steve using his mouth to spew sports lingo with all the horror of someone being given a wet willy. 

“I don’t!” he insisted more vehemently.

And, evidence to the contrary, it was true. Sure, sports weren’t his thing, but he sure as shit didn’t hate them. How could he, when it was something Steve was so passionate about? 

“I just–fuck, I just really don’t get it, man. It’s kinda like–you with D&D, if that makes sense? You don’t loathe it or anything, sure, but it’s not exactly like you’re rushing out to try it either. I mean, yours truly can’t even talk you into sitting in on one session of our campaign.” 

Shit. Eddie hadn’t quite meant to just–blurt out how he was feeling about the whole situation that way. But he’d always been crap at wearing his emotions anywhere other than right on his sleeve, like they were the latest patch adorned to his battle jacket. 

And the truth was, it really did sting, a little, that maybe Steve just…couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when it came to the things Eddie was interested in. Even more so, he guessed, because that didn’t seem much like the Steve Eddie had gotten to know over the past month or so. 

He saw the lengths Steve was willing to go for his friends–literally to hell and back. A silly D&D session should be nothing, in comparison. 

But then, if that was the case–why wasn’t Steve willing to even drop in and just watch the Hellfire Club play?

Strained silence fell over the car. When Eddie glanced over at him, Steve was shuffling guiltily in his seat. 

“I wasn’t trying to be an ass, man. I just–shit,” he sucked in a breath, feeling off-balance, “you wanna clue me in on exactly what’s going on in your head over there, big boy?”

“...I have tried it,” Steve admitted with an apologetic wince, “with Erica.”

Eddie’s response was automatic–he clutched his chest, as if Steve had delivered a fatal blow. 

…To be fair, the shock of the statement did kinda make him feel like he’d been suddenly mortally wounded. 

“Steven! The sheer…betrayal!” he gasped out. “How could you forsake me in this way?”

“Hey, dude, come on, I didn’t even really know you when I played before!” 

“And yet, you haven’t joined in on a single game since. For shame,” Eddie tsked, falling back on theatrics to cover up any trace of real disappointment he felt. 

“Listen, I’m telling you, I had no choice! According to Erica, she didn’t have enough ‘nerdy’ friends to talk into playing. And, Eddie, it was so obvious she was feeling down about it. You know what Erica’s usually like, she doesn’t let any of us in on what’s eating her. So, me and Robin and Dustin, we all agreed to run like a…like a one shot? Is that what they’re called? With her.”

The hurt from before faded some, melting like snow at the inescapable warmth that bubbled up in Eddie’s chest. Doing it for Lady Erica–that was certainly a cause he could get behind. And of course it had been cheering up the youngest Sinclair that convinced Steve to join–what could be more par for the course, when it came to Hawkins’ babysitter extraordinaire? 

“Yeah, man,” Eddie reassured him. “One shots are what you call it when you plan a game that only lasts for a single session.”

“That’s the one, then,” Steve huffed out a sheepish laugh. “To be honest, I sort of blew at it, dude. There’s just like…a ton of math to keep track of? Which, you might have noticed from all the questions, not exactly great at that. And then there’s so much other little shit to remember on top of it. Erica roasted me to hell and back afterwards. Totally worth it, though, seeing what a blast she had.” 

“Shit, man, I can only fucking imagine. She’s a savage, when she wants to be.” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, “Did you have any fun with it, Harrington?” 

“I mean…yeah, it was a pretty good time. Not my favorite thing in the world, or anything, but not bad. But it wasn’t, like. A serious game, you know? Not like the stuff you do.”

Eddie rocked back and forth in his seat, drumming a mindless rhythm against the steering wheel, taking it in. “And you wouldn’t be into that? Something that felt…more hardcore?”

Steve hummed, noncommittal. “I mean…I guess not? You, and the other guys, and the little numbskulls…Hellfire is like, your thing, yeah? I don’t want to mess that up for you guys, and I’m pretty sure I’d just slow shit way down for everybody. Besides, after what happened today, I think it’s pretty safe to say–Dustin and Mike don’t really have the patience for that. Not during a ‘real’ game, or whatever. I’ve got a feeling Gareth and Jeff and Frankie wouldn’t exactly love having me there, either.”

…Steve had him there. This morning had definitely opened Eddie’s eyes to at least one clear source of Steve’s reluctance to play. 

“I wouldn’t let any of the guys get away with that shit, the kind of stuff Henderson and Wheeler tried to pull today. You know that, right? The usual sort of good-natured ribbing, sure, but…not acting like total jackasses to you, or anybody,” he scoffed, a low, disparaging sound, at the mere thought. He dared those little shits to even try it. “Hell, it wouldn’t even help them out in the long run, anyway. At the end of the day, D&D is all about working together with your party, not tearing each other down or turning on each other.”

“Yeah, but…how much fun would you really have, dealing with some guy who’s barely got a clue what’s going on gumming up the works?” The thin smile Steve sent him was knowing, a total gotcha!

“For starters, the same logic as your pep talk? Totally applies here. No way in hell you’re gonna ruin things just by joining in, dude. Besides…can’t exactly remember ever having a bad time when you were around, Stevie.” 

Steve softened at that, eyes going warm and fond. And though they weren’t as pretty as the golden-flecked hazel ones Eddie was used to staring into, the lightness in them made them shine just that little bit brighter, looking like Steve’s all the same. 

“Okay, Eds,” he relented. “Do this for Lucas, and I promise I’ll play with you and the Hellfire guys. At least one time.” 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, good sir.” 

Spitting into his palm, Eddie thrust out his hand to shake.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Steve murmured…but then, did the same, sealing the deal with the time-honored binding agent of their mixed saliva.

They shook once, and Eddie didn’t quite manage to bite back his cackle when, as soon as their hands parted, Steve’s face crinkled into a disgusted grimace.  

“Ew,” he intoned flatly.

“It’s your spit,” Eddie pointed out, still snickering.

“Yeah, and? What difference does that make? Still gross, dude.”

With the clear intent to wipe his palm clean, Steve reached for the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans. 

“Not the bandana!” he shouted before Steve managed to free it. “You can’t sully that, man. It completes the whole look.”

With a roll of his eyes, Steve shrugged and then drug his hand down one leg of the black denim he was wearing instead. Then, for good measure, he grabbed Eddie’s wrist and repeated the motion–still on Eddie’s jeans. 

Before Eddie could protest, Steve cut him off with a quick, “Your idea, dude…so. Your clothes are the ones that get to suffer for it.”

“I mean, to be honest? That whole thing was totally for show. I was already planning on joining in on your sports games for Sinclair anyway. Otherwise, why the hell would I even be here? But, since you offered an exchange…” he shot Steve a toothy grin, “the contract is now legally binding.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, looking entirely nonplussed. “Whatever you say, Eds.”

Eddie gave a full-body shimmy at the thought, unable to contain his excitement. “You’re gonna totally fucking love it, Stevie! I promise. Hell, I’ll make a one-shot campaign just for you.”

That got Steve’s face to snap back to him, blinking over with wide, startled eyes. Eddie still didn’t quite see the Bambi comparison his friend sometimes liked to make, but…now with this fresh outsider’s perspective, he could admit that his eyes did look kind of ridiculously, comically large sometimes.

“Seriously? So you’d actually…what, come up with a whole new idea just for me?”

“Of course I would, man! I want you to, you know. Actually enjoy yourself?”

Eddie didn’t quite get the chance to parse it, the complicated series of expressions Steve seemed to cycle through at that–because the kids were already back, Erica’s demanding yank on the door handle shattering the moment. 

As they climbed inside, he made a show of mimicking Steve’s customary scolding with a quiet, Watch it, watch it. If he practiced it enough, surely he’d hone that particular brand of babysitter instinct Steve had until it became reflex. 

Steve’s gaze stayed settled on him all the while, as they began shuffling onward to the next stage of their latest adventure. He could feel it, heavy and lingering, even if Steve’s eyes flitted away quickly every time he tried to catch him at it. 

But he had seen it anyway, in the seconds before Steve twisted away to stare out the car window. That familiar, quiet look of concentration, scrunching up Steve’s nose and drawing one corner of his mouth downwards into a half-frown. 

Eddie’s cheeks heated slightly–damn blush–at the scrutiny, the knowledge that Steve had been studying him. 

Because the look on his face? 

Despite the topsy-turvy nature of their entire situation, it was like Steve was some part of Eddie for the very first time. 

—

“Is he really gonna play basketball with you and Lucas?”

As soon as they had made it through the Harrington’s front door, Steve had chirped out I’ve got it! and headed straight for the laundry room, on a mission to grab them both something to wear. The clear pep in his step made it obvious he was looking forward to hitting the pavement, or whatever the hell it was called, and managed to quell at least a little of the dread Eddie was valiantly trying to tamp down. What could he say? He’d always found Steve’s enthusiasm infectious like that.  

“Don’t know what you want me to say here, La–Erica,” Eddie shrugged, managing to choke off the instinct to call her by her D&D title. “But, uh…yeah. He totally is.”

Clearly, this answer was deemed unsatisfactory, given the way Erica somehow managed to squint even harder up at him. “I thought the nerds were being stupid before, but now I gotta ask…you two lose a bet?”

Holding up his hand in a three-finger salute, Eddie vowed, “I swear on Dustin’s mother’s life that there was no bet.” 

Sure, the gesture was a little empty, given there was no way in hell he would have ever been a Boy Scout. But Eddie was pretty sure Steve had been, and that had to count for something, right? He’d search the house later if he got the chance, try to come up with some photographic proof.

Now that he thought about it, though, maybe he shouldn’t have been arguing so strongly against the possibility of a bet. He wondered if he and Steve should have jumped on that explanation when they first had a chance. Might have helped to dodge some of this suspicion, or at the very least kept him from having to deal with Erica’s stink eye now. 

“But I thought Eddie hated all that ‘stupid jock stuff,’” Lucas said quietly. There were obvious echoes in the phrasing, words Sinclair wouldn’t have used himself. Instead, he was clearly parroting one of Eddie’s many tirades on the subject. “He says it turns people to the dark side. Like…what happened with Jason.”

Shame coursed through Eddie, powerful as a tidal wave. As if it hadn’t already been painfully obvious all day, here it was, staring him right in the face all over again. The reality that he was at least partially to blame for that particular sense of division among the party. 

Eddie had had to sit by and be dismissed by Dustin all day, just because Steve hadn’t taken the same sort of obsessive interest in nerdy stuff as the rest of the group had. And that was from Steve’s own pseudo-little brother, someone Eddie knew deep down loved Steve fiercely, with everything he had. 

There was no question about it–Eddie’s speeches, his dogmatic loyalty to his interests, the chip on his shoulder that he’d carried throughout high school had all helped, in some way, to fan the flames of that. 

And, sure, Eddie had his reasons to hate the Jasons of the world–reasons that had certainly turned out to be well-founded. But he was learning his lesson all over again. While the Munson Doctrine had been put into place for his and his friends’ protection, as he’d already suspected, it was in desperate need of that major overhaul. For certain parts of it in particular. 

Like his blanket view on all high school athletics, for example. The attitude he’d held of total derision was what got him to say shit like Lucas attending his high school basketball championship game was succumbing to the dark side. 

Because, when it came down to it…wasn’t that just Eddie’s way of trying to force Lucas into a box, get him to conform to a set of rules Eddie had already prescribed for guys like him? Which, if it was, would mean what Eddie had done completely violated the heart of the Munson Doctrine. 

A true sign that, despite his best intentions, Eddie had ended up wielding his own personal code like a weapon, and that weapon had collateral damage. With it, he had hurt the Lucases of the world, the Steves–people who didn’t, at heart, deserve it. Who Eddie had never intended to deal damage to. 

“Eddie’s kinda a dumbass,” Eddie couldn’t help but blurt. 

Lucas eyed him warily, while Erica’s eyes flashed dangerously, like she was at the ready to jump to his defense. Though it touched Eddie’s heart, at the moment, he definitely didn’t need her to take up her weapons in his honor. 

Between his pride and his own personal defense mechanisms, he knew he could be plenty slow on the uptake at times. But when it came to his friends and the stuff that actually mattered, Eddie was always willing to concede when he was the one who’d fucked up.

“Specifically about this sort of thing, I mean. Take me, for example,” he gestured to himself, to Steve. “I’m sure as shit not anything like that son of a bitch Carver, am I?”

“But…you used to be,” Lucas said hesitantly, the pain of the statement writ on his face. Evidence plain and simple that he was struggling with the idea of it, and that he didn’t want to have to hurt Steve by saying so out loud.

And…yeah, Eddie would like to have a word with whoever kept feeding that line to the kids. To anybody, really. Even if the culprit turned out to be Steve himself.

“Yeah, well, rumors of my evil reign of terror have been greatly over-exaggerated. King Steve? Was honestly…not so bad. A little bitchy, sure, but trust me, I didn’t hold a candle to some of those other guys. In fact,” he held up a triumphant finger, his own personal aha! as he laid out the evidence and made his case, “Eddie once told me that Hagan and Carver backed down from doing some of their usual heinous shit because they were worried word was gonna get back to me about it, and they knew I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Really?” Lucas asked, a trace of hope in his voice.

Eddie laid a hand over his heart, sincere. 

“You have my word, Sinclair. Or…Eddie’s word, if you wanna get technical about it. And he’s uh…shit.” As he gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes darted to Lucas’s like a skittish crow, sheepish but serious. “Look, he’s really sorry, dude. That he made the guys play during your championship game. A man shouldn’t have to face being deserted by his party during the important stuff.”

“You’re damn right, he shouldn’t,” Erica chimed in, her voice a low, furious undertone. Despite her willingness to defend him earlier, her loyalty to her brother clearly took top spot, true and steadfast. He was pretty surprised she hadn’t razed him to the ground over it already. 

“He actually said that to you?” Lucas asked. That hope was still there, but a shadow of skepticism had now bled into his expression. 

It made Eddie feel a little sick, knowing he had put that look there. Had helped make Lucas question himself, potentially come to see something he loved as…tainted. The very same thing people had been doing to Eddie his entire life.

All he could do was try to make up for it now. 

“He totally did, man. And he’s gonna say it to you too, soon enough. I promise you that.”

“Why?” Lucas raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a grim sort of challenge in his posture. “Are you gonna make him?”

Some part of Eddie wanted to laugh–only because that was so like Steve, and he and the kids both knew it. Sticking up for them. Getting the people around him to follow his lead, to try and right their wrongs and make amends. It was a total Mom move, even if Steve would claim he was just doing his best to keep them from making the same mistakes he had.

Eddie knew, though, that this moment was too serious to make light of.

“Nah. Nah, dude, I’ve just–got a feeling. Eddie and me, we, uh…know each other pretty well by now, so. Call it intuition.”

“Guess you must have rolled a good perception check, if you’re so sure,” Lucas joked, the defensiveness starting to drain out of him. 

The way he said it didn’t chafe, not like Dustin and Mike’s earlier dismissals had. Eddie could feel the difference–Lucas was inviting Steve in on the joke, even if he knew he didn’t totally understand it. Would have been willing to explain it, Eddie bet, if Steve asked. 

Which only made it all the more clear, that trying to balance both, navigate between two different spheres–at the end of the day, that was the way to go about things. Find a happy medium, where no one felt like they had to choose sides, be wholly one way or the other. Eddie’d have to remember to make that a pillar of the new and improved Munson Doctrine. 

After all, he’d much rather break down boxes than just build new ones. 

“I guess, something like that,” Eddie shrugged, trying to adopt that air of easy nonchalance Steve had, about not understanding every little miniscule reference the group made.

“Well, sounds to me like something, or somebody, got through to him.” Cocking her head in the direction Steve had disappeared, Erica eyed Eddie knowingly. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

No sooner had she spoken the words than Steve popped back into the living room, as though he’d been summoned. 

“Think fast,” he called, tossing a balled up pair of shorts and shirt directly at Eddie’s chest. 

Scrambling, Eddie managed to clap one arm against his body, quick enough that he just kept the garments from hitting the floor. 

Realizing what he’d done, he pumped his free hand into the air in a triumphant fist on reflex. Steve grinned, sending him two thumbs up. 

Lucas looked back and forth between them, the smile he wore caught somewhere between amused and puzzled. 

Erica, on the other hand, only rolled her eyes, showing absolutely no signs of confusion. “Okay, enough of all this mushy shit. Can you two hurry the hell up? At this rate, I’ll be as old as you by the time Lucas finally gets to practice.”

Mushy shit? Steve mouthed to Eddie. He shook his head quickly, Steve’s answering shrug saying he was willing to put a pin in it for now. There’d be plenty of time to explain all of that to him later. 

“You heard the lady,” Eddie gestured for Steve to lead the way. 

The sudden smirk that curled over Steve’s lips could only spell trouble. 

“...Race you!” The words were barely out of his mouth before he was off like a shot, headed straight for the Harrington’s staircase. 

“Har–Ha!–Munson, you shameless fucking cheat!” Eddie crowed, sprinting after him. 

Accustomed as he was to being a mess of uncoordinated, gangly limbs, Steve’s broader chest and thick legs still made him feel a bit like he was shambling, propelled forward by his own weight. At least they were basically the same height, so his equilibrium wasn’t completely fucked. He’d have probably ended up sprawled out on the floor, otherwise. 

And even with the cognitive dissonance, there was no doubt that he was faster, in Steve’s body. But, really, it was the sudden boost in upper body strength that actually sealed the deal for him. 

Because once he’d caught up enough to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and bodily dragged him down a few steps–Steve crying out, Oh, seriously? Fuck you, dude! even as he laughed, bright and unselfconscious–Eddie found himself scrambling the rest of the way up the stairs and, for once in his life, actually finishing a race in first place. 

Maybe he could pull this off after all. 

—

Staring up at the basket on the Hawkins public courts he hadn’t even known existed before today, Eddie swallowed hard, ready to retract any earlier statements he’d made about being confident. 

After their chase up the stairs, they’d changed quickly together in Steve’s room. It was probably a good thing that Steve had been there, in hindsight, a deterrent from Eddie letting his eyes linger on all the bare, golden skin he found himself exposing yet again. 

The problem, of course, was that Steve’s Hawkins High gym uniform left very little to the imagination–the thin gray t-shirt hugging his chest in all the right places, those green athletic shorts impossibly short. Eddie had spent the entire drive out here doing his best not to get distracted by the fact that Steve’s thick, fuzzy thighs were right there, teasing at the periphery of his vision, lest he pop a boner which said tiny shorts would do absolutely nothing to hide. 

Steve was dressed all but identically–though the swim team shirt he’d procured for himself had the sleeves cut off, showcasing every inch of ink sprawled up Eddie’s arms. He kind of couldn’t get over how pale his own legs looked, vulnerable for once to the sizzling, midday sun. 

As soon as they were out of the car, Steve had scooped up the basketball he’d brought along and jogged over to the courts with all the eagerness of a very large, very overenthusiastic golden retriever. By the time Eddie had finally made his way out onto the blacktop, he was already idly–dribbling? fuck, that had to be right, Eddie was almost sure of it–his way down to the nearest basket. 

And even though the borrowed athletic shorts were a bit too baggy, in that moment, Eddie’s body looked uncomfortably natural there, surrounded by balls and hoops on all sides. There was a fluidity in the way Steve moved, a confidence that seemed to override Eddie’s utter lack of athleticism or coordination, more than making up for any of missing skills he’d adamantly refused to help develop over the years. With Steve in control, “Eddie Munson” appeared to the unknowing eye like someone who could actually belong here.

He had no idea how to feel about that. 

When Eddie glanced around, he found Lucas clearly getting ready to join them. But before he had the chance to sprint away from the bleachers where Erica was settling down watch, Steve cupped one hand around his mouth and waved him off with the other, shouting, “Just stand over there for now, Sinclair! That way you’ll have the best view. Steve’s gonna kill two birds with one stone–give you a refresher while, you know, actually teaching me the moves for the first time.”

Ball still clutched in his hands, he then pivoted on his heel, facing the target with his back to Eddie. 

The movement made Eddie freeze in his tracks, the sheer uncertainty about what came next enough to leave him staring, wide-eyed and uncomprehending, at the back of his own head. Steve had had the foresight to pull his hair up and out of the way with one of the seemingly innumerable clips Robin had abandoned at the Harringtons’ place before they’d headed out. Fully caught up in that out of body feeling, Eddie couldn’t help but notice his neck was already starting to go pink from the sun. 

Several long, agonizing beats passed, until finally Steve glanced over his shoulder at him and made a coaxing, come hither motion with his hand. 

“Come on, man. Don’t just leave me hanging. Get your ass in here.”

Despite his hesitance, Eddie shuffled forward, gnawing his bottom lip as reluctance weighed down his every step. 

Once he was within earshot, he hissed out, “Uh, need I remind you…while I may currently be running around in this top-of-the-line athletic bod of yours, Stevie, your knowledge of the arcane rituals of high school sports definitely didn’t stick around. As we’ve established, I don’t know jack shit about basketball.”

Steve scoffed. 

“I know that, Eds. What do you take me for? I’m not an idiot.” Before Eddie had the chance to argue that he would never say that, he was already barrelling on. “Why do you think I told the kid to stay over there? I’ll tell you what to say, step-by-step, while you ‘show’ me how to do it. Then, all you have to do is relay it to Lucas. Easy peasy.” 

Right. Eddie was pretty damn certain things weren't going to be nearly as breezy as Steve made it sound. But, he had already committed, and that was a central part of Eddie’s whole post-brush-with-death pact that he’d made with himself–doing his best not to run out on things. 

“Jesus Christ. Yeah, alright, Harrington. You’ve got me, I’m your eager Padawan. Teach me how to teach you all about those balls and laundry baskets.” 

Pleasure rippled through him when the quip managed to get a snort out of Steve, clearly taking it for the joke it was meant to be. 

“Well, first of all, you’re gonna need to get a lot closer to me than that, dude. How the hell else are you supposed to, you know…actually ‘coach’ me on how to line up a shot?”

While he did as instructed and crossed the distance between them, Eddie still kept a healthy amount of space between them. The look Steve sent him this time was amused, and he shook his head like Eddie was being ridiculous. 

“Seriously, Eds, press up against me. It’s not like I’ve got cooties–not any that aren’t literally yours, at least–and I swear I don’t bite.” The smirk that curled at his lips was all casual, confident Harrington charm, and Eddie found it a little disconcerting his face could even make that expression. “Not too much, anyway, or so I’ve been told.”

Eddie was pretty sure he had a dream like this, once, though without the basketball and with Steve decidedly in his own body at the time. So…nothing like this, not really, but the words were still enough to send a tingle through Eddie from his now perfectly coiffed head to his Nike-clad toe. 

There was probably something decidedly demented about feeling a surge of heat at the sound of his own teasingly suggestive voice. But he had always been weird, proudly so, and there was really no time at present to have a full-blown crisis about it. He could save all that for…later. 

“Shit, man, talk a guy into it, why don’t you,” he muttered. His mouth was running away with him, as always, but in his defense any sense of self-preservation or impulse control he’d had swiftly left the building the moment his chest connected with Steve’s back. 

This close, a few of his own stray flyaways tickled the end of his nose. A mix of cigarette smoke, the off-brand shampoo Wayne got down at Melvald’s, and the Harrington’s expensive laundry detergent wafted through the air, like a perfect blend of him and Steve together. His brain short-circuited a little, not quite sure how to process that particular combination and the hazy feeling it stirred in him. 

“Just watch,” Steve boasted, confident grin still in place. Warmth built between them, seeping beneath the thin gray cotton of their t-shirts, and Eddie was hyperaware of every line and plane of his body against Steve’s as Steve shifted on the balls of his feet. “I’ll convert you into a sports fan in no time.”

What he was doing right now was plenty persuasive, although Eddie didn’t say that. 

“Bold words, big boy, but you can certainly try,” he taunted, though the ways his hands still hovered uncertainly at Steve’s sides undermined any of his brazenness.

“Put your hands on my shoulders for now,” Steve said. So he dutifully laid them in place, marveling, not for the first time, at how big Steve’s hands really were, engulfing Eddie’s own bony frame easily. “I’m gonna get ready to take the shot the wrong way, then I’ll just tell you how to fix it for me. Okay?”

“Totally, man. Don’t leave me in suspense.”

Steve clutched the ball with both his palms, spread about equal distance from the center, and then lifted it over his head as if he was about to shoot. Which looked…completely fine from where Eddie was standing, no different from the dozens of times he’d seen jocks do it when he’d actually managed to make it to gym class. Evidently, though, there was some vital component of a proper battle stance that he was totally eluding him. 

“Dominant hand’s the shooting hand, and then the other’s the one that does all the guiding. You’re a righty, yeah? Which means my right hand should be placed center, fingers spread around the pump, and then my left goes on the side to help line up the shot,” Steve kept his hands in place, though he did squeeze the ball gently, indicating which he meant as he spoke. “You got all that? Lucas should know this, but it doesn’t hurt to get the reminder once in a while, keep him from getting sloppy.”

“Uh…yeah, I think so,” Eddie said, the unsteady waver in his words making Steve’s voice pitch a bit higher than usual. 

Sliding his hands over Steve’s arms, he readjusted his grip accordingly. Steve’s ring-clad knuckles felt cool, engulfed beneath the warm, broad palms he was now sporting, and Eddie couldn’t help but note the way Steve’s fingers spanned out past his former reach. 

“So, uh…dominant hand right down the middle, Munson. Then just put those other magic fingers to the side, and bam! Guide her on home. Got that, champ?” Eddie’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his mouth spreading wide and curling with amusement as he tapped into a facsimile of Steve’s ‘Dad’ voice worthy of Leave It to Beaver, if he did say so himself. 

Even as he kept his body pliant, letting Eddie position him accordingly, Steve craned his neck just enough to make sure Eddie caught his eye roll. 

“I do not sound like that,” he muttered pointedly from the side of his mouth. 

“You keep telling yourself that, Stevie boy.” Eddie gave Steve a clap on the back that would look encouraging from a distance. The touchy part of jock culture, at least, was something he could get behind, the one thing that he felt completely natural imitating. 

Next, apparently, before he could just go ahead and throw that silly ass ball, they needed to work on ‘Eddie’s’ stance. That particular step involved a lot of Eddie getting handsy with Steve’s hips, adjusting and readjusting to make sure his feet were pointed straight at the goal post thingy. 

After that, Steve made him literally curve over his back to allegedly make sure that he was bent correctly. His exact words, and Eddie found himself unbelievably happy Steve was turned away from him, couldn’t catch the way Steve’s apparently hair-trigger blush spread over his face at the images that particular suggestion conjured in Eddie’s mind. He’d always suspected sports could get ridiculously horny–the one real point in their favor, honestly, all those sweaty dudes rubbing up against each other–but he was getting an up close and personal education on just how right he had been now. 

“Have we finally positioned my body to suit you, good sir?” Eddie asked, amused, fingers trailing over the small of Steve’s back as he pulled his hand away. 

The smirk was in place again as Steve sent him a quick, there-and-you’ll-miss-it wink. “Watch this.”

With a bounce and a controlled flick of his wrist, Steve tossed the ball. It arced through the air, circling the top of the basket for one long, breathless moment…and then dropped through the net. 

From the sidelines, both Lucas and Erica went wild, whooping and hollering in celebration. 

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” Eddie gasped, hand clapping down on the top of his head in complete shock. “Holy shit, man, look at that! Congratu-fucking-lations, you actually did it!”

Steve spun to face him, his grin giddy as he clapped his hands on Eddie’s shoulders and gave him a triumphant little shake. “We did that, dude! That was all you, just–with some training and, you know, a little bit of a helping hand.” 

“Eddie! Dude, you made a three pointer on your first try!” Lucas crowed, voice echoing from the sheer volume of his excitement. 

At Eddie’s questioning look, Steve scuffed his Rebok along the white line painted over the asphalt. “Three point line. What, you think I was gonna miss out on my chance to see what you could actually do with a little time and effort?” Eyes flitting back to the basket, his smile mellowed, turning into something wistful yet pleased. “I may have had a shitty senior year, but–guess I make a pretty damn good coach, after all.” 

Eddie found himself surprisingly chuffed, and he couldn’t quite tell who he felt more pleased for–himself, or Steve. “Damn right you do, Harrington. Best basketball co-captain Hawkins High has ever seen.”

Steve cocked a surprised eyebrow at him. “You actually remembered that I was co-captain?”

Eddie answered with a half-shrug, tossing Steve’s words from earlier in the day back at him with ease. “Hey. I totally do listen when you talk, Harrington.”

Dropping a hand on Eddie’s bicep, Steve gave him a squeeze, a show of what Eddie immediately recognized was brief, silent gratitude. Then, he leaned in to lock eyes with him, tone going serious. “Alrighty, dude. You survived round one. Ready to keep listening to me talk about defense and how to block the other guys on the team from making a perfect shot just like that one?”

“Hell yeah, I am,” he slapped Steve’s hand, completing the high five offered to him. “Let’s do it!” 

—

This time around, Eddie did his best to repeat Steve’s instructions verbatim, goofing around less since this was definitely advice Lucas would need. Steve, for his part, waited until after Eddie had described a maneuver to follow his instructions–putting on the perfect display of cluelessness, like he had had no idea what to do until “Steve” told him.

Unfortunately, blocking was, in Eddie’s opinion, turning out to be way less exciting than shooting practice had been. For one, part of the lesson was learning the right amount of distance to keep between yourself and the other jocks to properly screw up their gameplay…which meant, of course, that Eddie wasn’t getting the same opportunity to drape himself all over Steve as he had before. 

For another, it required way more actual athleticism on Eddie’s part. As the pseudo-coach, he had to try to keep Steve from stealing away the ball–which meant, of course, that he had to have control of that wiley rubber sphere in the first place. That in and of itself proved to be a pretty Herculean task. 

His first few attempts were fumbling at best, complete with heckling from the sidelines about how he must be rusty from not going up against a real competitor lately (Lucas) and getting too rickety for basketball, old man (Erica).

By now, Eddie was well used to the kids and their mouthy ways, and he had certainly never pretended to be anything less than a disaster when it came to feats that required coordination. But–he also actually didn’t want to fuck things up, this time. 

The pressure mounted, and he felt more like an unwieldy seventh grader than the 20–now 19–something he actually was, all knees and elbows after his growth spurt, head ringing after getting pegged with a baseball during a game he definitely wasn’t paying attention to. An entire chorus of doubts started clamoring loudly inside him, making him curse colorfully when he somehow managed to bounce the ball straight into Steve’s hands.

“It’s just like I said before, Eds,” Steve’s voice, quiet and steady, cut through the static of jeering voices that sounded an awful lot like some nightmarish mish-mash of Jason Carver and his dear old dad mixed together. “Don’t overthink it, okay? You’ve got this.” 

With a nod and a deep breath, he did his best to push everything to the back burner and get out of his own head. 

Which, shockingly enough…turned out to work pretty well. It helped, of course, that he’d just had to “teach” Steve to dribble the ball, so he’d gotten a crash course on what to do only minutes before. Between that and Steve’s coaxing, Eddie finally found something like a rhythm, muscle memory making up for what he no doubt lacked in anything resembling good form.

Once that hurdle was behind them, their practice run started going along pretty swimmingly. That was, of course, until…their eagle-eyed audience decided to interject again.

“What the hell are you two talking about over there?” Erica called out, clearly having cottoned on to the fact that, between lessons, they were exchanging way more than just Eddie’s shouted instructions. 

Eddie had to hand it to her, the girl was consistent in her dogged need to understand anything and everything around her–and about as subtle as a mallet to the face when it came to her methods of finding out. 

But, Steve stayed quick on his feet, same as he’d been since the moment they got out here. 

“Hey, I gotta keep Harrington on his toes, right? I mean, what’s any good game without, like…a little smack talk.” 

That, at least, was one thing Eddie could admit that basketball and D&D totally had in common. The physical stuff might have eluded him, but verbal sparring? Now, that he could get behind. 

“Besides,” one corner of Steve’s mouth quirked upward into a confident smirk, “wouldn’t want him getting too comfortable.”

As if to demonstrate his point, Steve perfectly executed the block they had just gone over and stole the ball from Eddie, letting out a breathless laugh as he swiveled around him and headed straight for the basket. 

Eddie released an extremely undignified squawk as he went after Steve, comforting himself with the knowledge that the kids would only hear Steve making such a ridiculous sound. He had to get his revenge where he could take it–especially when his attempt to repeat the action was to no avail, their shoulders jostling together but Steve ultimately sinking the ball into the goal with a triumphant woo-hoo!

“I’m onto you, Harrington,” Eddie pointed at him in accusation, though the gesture was somewhat undermined when he had to bend over and clasp one knee, panting, “you’re having way too much fun with this, aren’t you? Turning me into some kind of basketball prodigy.”

Steve’s answering smile was so wide, it put Eddie’s dimples on full display. 

“Look, dude–don’t be mad just because I’ve figured out how to use this body in ways you haven’t. It’s not my fault you’ve got all this hidden potential, and I’m just tapping into it.” Subtle though it might have been, Eddie didn’t miss the way Steve’s hand ran over the inside of his–Eddie’s–bicep, flexing his arm and then squeezing the muscle there. “You know, I think you totally could have had a shot at making the team if you’d wanted to.”

“Yeah, uh…let’s not get delusional here, Harrington.”

“I’m serious,” Steve cocked an eyebrow, lifting his chin in what might have been an invitation, or a challenge. “What? You mean you wouldn’t want to play for my team?”

Even though Eddie was pretty sure Steve couldn’t possibly realize the implications such a question carried, he still felt a sizzle of heat run through him, and one that had absolutely nothing to do with the scorching sun. 

“Right now I’m pretty sure I’m gunning to join Sinclair’s team. At least he hasn’t been using my body for nefarious purposes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t love to show off. But when I do it, just with a different set of skills, suddenly I’m the bad guy.”

“That you are,” Catching Steve around the neck, Eddie pulled him into a headlock, ruffling his own shaggy mane. Steve’s instinctive Not the hair, man! had Eddie letting him go with a laugh. “Whaddya say?” he nodded to the benches. “Have we taught the young grasshopper all we know?”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Not sure what bugs have got to do with it, but…yeah, I’d say that should do it. Ready as we’re gonna be, all things considered.” Sliding the ball into the crook of his elbow, he clapped his hands together. “Come on, Sinclair, get a move on! You’re up, man.”

“Go on. Show them you mean business, Lucas!” Erica chanted as she lightly shoved her brother’s shoulder, encouraging and cajoling all at once. 

With a quick cheer, Lucas trotted out onto the court to finally join them.

“Alright, buddy,” Steve clapped a hand on the younger teen’s back. “You ready to help me show Harrington how it’s done?”

“Absolutely!” Lucas beamed, clearly pleased by “Eddie’s” sudden show of enthusiasm. “You know, you’re…kinda a lot better than I thought you’d be? No offense.”

“None taken. I mean, what can I say?” he shrugged, faux-modest, though the megawatt grin on his face said otherwise. “Turns out…I’m a total natural.”

“Hey, wait a minute, guys. That is seriously so not fair. How come you two get to gang up on me, huh?” Eddie whined, giving his best approximation of the fatal Harrington pout. 

Steve, apparently, was immune. 

“Sorry, Stevie, you know how it is,” he slung an arm around Lucas’s shoulders in a show of camaraderie. “Us underdogs gotta stick together. Right, Sinclair?”

Eddie huffed, imitating Steve’s signature pfft. “What are you talking about, man? Sinclair’s a total jock, plays for the Tigers and everything. If anything, that means he should be on my team.”

“Aww, guys, knock it off,” Lucas chided, though he was clearly enjoying having them bicker over him, grinning from ear-to-ear. Then, his eyes took on a particularly mischievous glint. “You know how us kids hate it when Mom and Dad fight.” 

“Oh my God, dude! Leave the smart ass comments to Henderson, yeah?” 

“For that alone, I should rescind your invitation to fight at my side, Sinclair!”

Lucas snickered. “Anyway, I’m a nerd and a jock, remember? That means I should get to decide, right? And I gotta side with Eddie on this one.” Turning to Eddie, he gave him an apologetic shrug. “Nothing personal. It just…wouldn’t be right, making him go up against the both of us when he just learned how to play today. You know?” 

“Good man, good man,” Steve chirped. “Right you are, Sinclair. That wouldn’t be cool to do to a newbie like me.” 

Cheater, Eddie mouthed as Lucas trotted ahead of them towards the basket, ready to start the game. 

Steve only laughed, taunting him with one of those infuriatingly teasing little waves. Then he was jogging off, too, easily tapping into that speed Eddie usually reserved for running from mean-spirited meatheads and cops. 

“First to ten wins!” he shouted, smoothly passing the ball to Lucas. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie muttered, struggling to catch up to them. Too slow, he watched in horror as the younger teen sank the ball in an easy slam dunk, Steve flinging his arms into the air with a triumphant Great going, Sinclair!

This was high school PE all over again. One second into his first basketball game, and somehow Eddie was already falling behind. 

—

It was not, for all his initial concerns, quite as dire as PE. 

He did have cause for alarm–but only at first. Steve and Lucas had been out here together for months now, and even if Lucas wasn’t aware of the reason for it, it became pretty obvious that Steve knew all his tells. The pair of them worked together seamlessly, egging each other on, and Steve’s almost sixth sense for when Lucas was open meant they stacked up three points collectively in what felt like the bat of an eye. 

But, as Eddie quickly learned, forming two entirely distinct ‘teams’ wasn’t all that practical, at least not when there were a grand total of three people in play. Because while Lucas and Steve might have started out the game in a loosely-defined team up against him, the boundaries of that quickly dissolved…right around the time that Lucas passed the ball straight to Eddie. 

Distracted by the certainty he was moment’s away from falling another point behind, at the time Eddie had barely had a chance to register that the sound of Sinclair’s voice shouting Steve! Steve! was directed at him. Not before that flash of orange came hurtling towards him, at least. 

But when the ball hit him square in the chest, he actually caught it, the same miracle from the laundry incident somehow managing to play out twice in one day. The only thing that saved him in the aftermath from a determined Steve Harrington barrelling straight for him was the fact that he’d already spent a lifetime running away.

“Sinclair!” Steve cried out in disbelief, slinging one hand emphatically through the air as Eddie’s toss whooshed into the net. The other, of course, came to rest petulantly on his hip. “Come on, dude, what the hell was that?!” 

“Sorry, man.” Out of all the kids–short of El or Will, at least–Lucas’s guileless smile and innocent shrug always managed to look the most convincing, and now was no exception. “What did you want me to do? Just up and betray my coach completely? No way I could ever do that.”

“Well, whaddya know? Jock solidarity saves the day!” Even though that was a string of words he’d also never thought that he would say out loud, Eddie couldn’t help but cackle, grin wide and toothy enough to do the Cheshire Cat proud. “You snooze you lose, Munson!”

He watched as Steve’s jaw clenched, the determined smirk that settled onto his face suggesting that they were all in big trouble. 

“Oh, it is so on!”

After that, allegiances shifted at the drop of a hat, the causes varying from perceived slights like a foul or a fake out, or simply when one of their merry band of players spotted a weakness and saw an opening to take advantage of. Mostly, they each just kept track of their own individual scores, cheering each other on or booing wildly depending entirely upon whose side they happened to be on in that particular moment. 

And while Steve and Lucas might have started out at an advantage, Eddie was quick to catch up. His aim was undeniably kinda shoddy, but scoring came to him pretty much the exact same way that dribbling had–the less he thought about it, the better he was. It was a little disconcerting, that going into autopilot seemed to activate some of Steve’s body’s latent athletic abilities, like a sleeper agent that had been triggered by the right code phrase. The whole thing felt very sci-fi, as if Eddie had gone to sleep and been transformed overnight into the bionic man, with new robotic implementations that could do all sorts of things he never dreamed of before. 

…Which really wasn’t too far off the genre mark, considering conscious-swapping or whatever the hell it was that had happened to them read like a story straight from the stack of pulpy Weird Tales comics Eddie kept stashed under his bed. 

The clear and very deliberate performance Steve was giving didn’t exactly hinder Eddie’s gains, either. While he kept up the appearance of some of the skills he had already cultivated for Eddie, maintaining that image of being surprisingly-good-at-this-for-his-first-time, Eddie noticed Steve fudging things a bit more than he had during their practice. 

Like letting Lucas easily steal the ball away from him before sending a quick wink Eddie’s way. 

Or missing a shot that was practically guaranteed because he tripped over his own feet at the last second, in keeping with Eddie’s trademark klutziness. 

(Although in that last example, Eddie’s body might have actually been to blame. It was kind of hard to tell, from the outside looking in.) 

Whenever Steve–or Lucas, for that matter–did something right, however, Eddie was quick with his praise. Staying in-character, he knew, meant tapping into that same air of confident yet peppy and supportive co-captain Steve had shown himself to be all afternoon.

So when Steve managed what looked like a particularly complicated shot from the three point line, Eddie instantly crowed, “Holy shit, Eds. With moves like that, you’re gonna make me jealous!”

The redness already spilling across Eddie’s pale skin had crept all the way up to his exposed ears, then, and he honestly couldn’t tell if Steve was flushing from the heat or the way Eddie was laying it on so thick. Given Steve’s only answer was to duck his head and knock his shoulder gently against Eddie’s with a quiet Shut up! all he really knew was that he’d say whatever it took to get that kind of reaction out of Steve again.  

Soon after, Lucas had pulled off basically the same move, mimicking Steve exactly–clearly, the kid had been paying attention. 

“Nice one, Sinclair! No way in hell that coach of yours won’t have you off the bench for good in no time.” 

That had earned him a subtle ‘ok’ sign from Steve, clearly pleased that Eddie had managed to use some of their whispered, crash course basketball terminology correctly in a sentence. 

Eddie scored a couple more points himself, and so by the time Steve successfully went in for his next one, he couldn’t resist getting a little cocky and teasing. 

“You can thank my excellent coaching skills for that.” And, because he wasn’t above playing dirty, he punctuated the statement by giving Steve a quick swat on the ass, morbidly curious to see if the color on his ears would deepen. 

…It did, as it turned out, though Steve was quick to recover.

“Uh–yeah, yeah. Clearly you were born to teach, Harrington.” Though he tacked on an eye roll and a put-upon tone, Eddie hadn’t miss the way Steve preened a little after he had said it. 

“Fuck yeah I was!” Snapping his fingers, Eddie shot one of Steve’s dorky finger guns in his direction. “And don’t you forget it.”

The game stayed fast flowing, the points ever changing. One moment, Steve was at 7, Lucas 6, and Eddie trailed behind at 5. But soon Eddie found himself tied for first after two lucky shots in a row. He couldn’t sit easy for long, though, what with Lucas making a sudden comeback to pull ahead of them both. On and on they went, steadily climbing their way towards that winning score, neck and neck all the time. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly Hellfire, but looking at it as one-to-one combat, its very own system of HP and Ability Scores included and all, he could admit that he was starting to see the appeal. 

…In more ways than one. 

Because unfortunately for Eddie, his little problem from earlier, the one he’d promised himself he’d put a pin in, hadn’t just evaporated once the real game started. Sure, there wasn’t quite as much skin-to-skin contact as there had been in the practice run, but, as it turned out, basketball wasn’t exactly an at-an-arms-length kind of sport. Which meant that Steve was there, more often than not, hovering at Eddie’s back to–usually successfully–block his shots. 

And Eddie was probably a very, very sick man. 

Because the sight of his jock best friend, all sweaty and grinning and glowing with it as he, Jesus H. Christ, pressed right up against him–well. That was enough to leave Eddie riled up and breathless, excited in a not at all sports-appropriate way…despite the fact that Steve was currently running around in his body. 

And, sure, okay, so he regularly popped boners when he saw Steve in this state. But that was different, because that was Steve–lovely, Adonis-like Steve, with his swooping perfect hair and gorgeous hazel eyes and stupidly muscled calves. 

…But, then again, so was this. 

Eddie saw it, in the competitive gleam in Steve’s eyes, the way he kept licking his lips in concentration each and every time he and Eddie squared off. It was there every time Lucas scored a basket, and Steve’s face instantly lit up with naked delight. In every whoop and shout and excited clap of his hands as he cheered them all on, or chant of hustle, hustle, hustle when he felt one of them was lagging behind. Hell, even when he was doing a dorky little victory dance and Eddie had to literally tackle Steve to stop him from embarrassing him and sullying his reputation even further, it was still all he could see. 

He might be hidden behind Eddie's pale skin, disheveled hair, and too wide eyes–but every tic, every word, every silly little gesture made it all too obvious that that was still undeniably Steve, shining out underneath. 

Great, Eddie was probably going to give his own heart a boner next.

So it was really no wonder when it gave a flip, the next time Steve decided to direct some of that earnest, positive attention his way.

“Alright, let’s go, let’s go,” Steve chanted.

He was doing a masterful job of playing keep away between Eddie and the goal. Despite their difference in stature, his chest felt as firm as a wall every time Eddie’s shoulder knocked against it, trying and failing to dodge him. And the sparkle in Steve’s eye, which Eddie caught when he turned to shield the ball from being stolen away like a bounty in the night, made it clear that he wasn’t the only one having fun with their roughhousing. 

“That’s it,” Steve said, half-goading, half-encouraging. “Show me what you got, Harrington.”

“Oh, just you wait. You ain’t seen nothing yet, Munson.”

At the last second, Eddie feinted to the left, swiveling around him and just managing to toss the ball through the net. He wasn’t even going to give Steve’s superhuman physique credit for that one–the fake out was all him, years of evading schoolyard bullies and learning to lean into his own natural noodle-like motions taking over. 

“Check me out!” he hollered, resisting the urge to tack on a Take that, you silly orange sphere!

And despite the fact that Eddie had just outpaced him, Steve was all smiles. “Yeah, you know, you’re looking pretty good out there, champ.” 

Though the last word was tacked on mockingly, clearly a jab at Eddie’s imitation from earlier, the rest of the statement came out in a low, warm tone. That, coupled with the private, pleased look he was sending him, was enough to make a flash of heat run through Eddie, his blood pumping in all the wrong ways. 

Grasping for hair that wasn’t there to chew on, he stuttered out, “I’m, uh–gonna take five real quick.”

Then, with a final jab of his thumb, Eddie scampered off the court, suddenly glad for the bright, mid-afternoon sun to explain away his flush. 

Besides, it wasn’t as if it wasn’t partially to blame. Even in Steve’s body, which was certainly more equipped than Eddie’s would have been to handle all the running and jumping and throwing even practice basketball apparently required, he still found himself winded and panting. So much so he was a tiny bit grateful for the excuse for a water break, as he guzzled from the bottle Erica handed to him.

When he flopped down onto the bench beside her, wiping away the sweat that had gathered at his hairline with the back of his hand, Erica sent him a smug, knowing look. 

“I’m onto you, you know.”

Eddie froze mid-sip, like a deer in the headlights. The soothing cold liquid–which he’d been gulping down like it was the Elixir of Life–now betrayed him, nearly choking him to death. 

“You’re, uh…” he managed to squeak out, hoping the coughing fit would serve as explanation enough for his change in tone. He had to bite his tongue to prevent the shit shit shit that threatened to spill from his lips. “What is it you’re onto now, exactly?”

There, that sounded suitably baffled and low-key exasperated, Steve-like on all fronts. Not suspicious at all. 

If someone could just let his frantic, speeding pulse know that, then he’d be really cooking with gas.

Leaning into him conspiratorially, the perfect posture for sharing secrets, Erica said in a low undertone, “Don’t tell anybody I said this, but it was kinda cute, what you did back there.”

Now, Eddie was totally lost. “Pray tell, what was cute, Baby Sinclair?”

Her face screwed up in an over-the-top display of disgust. “Ew, nevermind, I take it back. You two have been spending way too much time together. Don't ever call me that again.”

Grinning at her dramatics despite himself, Eddie pointed out, “That still doesn't answer my question…Erica.”

Rolling her eyes, letting her exasperation be known, she exclaimed, “I meant the way you memorized all that stuff about Gauntlet to impress Eddie!”

She hadn’t tacked an actual duh onto the end, but he could read between the lines well enough to know it was heavily implied. 

The good news was–one crisis, and the big one at that, had been truly and firmly averted. Clearly, Erica still thought she was talking to Steve. 

The bad news, of course, came from the fact that she wasn’t…and that it definitely had not been Steve, rambling away back at the arcade. No, that had all been Eddie’s own screw up, his inability to keep his mouth shut when it came to his passions getting in the way and threatening to blow their cover. 

So, whatever point Erica was trying to make now–and already, Eddie suspected he might have a sinking suspicion just what that point was–the evidence was stacked against her, even though she didn’t know it.

“But you don't have to try so damn hard, you know. Look.”

Eddie followed Erica's nod to where Steve was currently playing keep away with Lucas, his smile bright and carefree. He was in his element, happy. When he looked like that, Eddie couldn't even remotely pretend to be annoyed at Steve for using his body for jock purposes. 

“Clearly, he likes you.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she accepted the truth of it as easily as the sky being blue and Hawkins being overrun by monsters on an annual basis.  

An overwhelming surge of affection swelled in him for the tiny, badass girl beside him. He was touched by the nonchalance of it, the way she was discussing her babysitters, two guys, possibly having crushes on each other without so much as batting an eye. 

Enough so that, just for a second, he let himself get lost in the moment. “That so? I mean…you really think he does?”

“Damn straight. You think Eddie would play sports for just anybody?” she cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. 

And well…what the hell could Eddie say to that, other than to agree? He knew firsthand just how true it was, that he wouldn’t be out here for just anybody, especially before today. 

“Nah. No way in hell he would. But it's…kinda a tad more complicated than that.”

Because, stepping back to reality, those were all the signs that Eddie liked Steve, scrambled and distorted by their current situation. How Steve felt about him–he honestly still had no firm idea on that. 

Plus, at present, there were far too many confusing layers to try and unpack it all. Least of all here, with Erica Sinclair–no matter how uncannily insightful she might be for her age.

“Look, we’re just, uh…” Eddie searched for the phrasing Robin was always throwing around, whenever people questioned why she and Steve weren’t dating despite being practically psychically linked, “capital P platonic friends. Nothing more than that, okay? Pinkie swear.”

He extended a little finger to her, ready to seal the deal, but Erica ignored it with a dismissive psst.

“Yeah, right,” she said flatly, “Tell that to the sickening moon eyes you get every time he's around.”

“What the hell, man? There are no moon eyes!” Eddie protested, sounding suitably Steve-levels of scandalized, mostly because…well. He was sure as all hell that he would have noticed them if there had been!

“Boys,” Erica shook her head, sounding both resigned and disappointed, “so stupid.”

“Shit, no one's arguing with that,” he agreed readily. “But, uh…you think we can keep this little chat between us? I mean–it’s not exactly the sorta thing you wanna go around spouting off here, in Hawkins. You know what I’m saying?”

Because as much as it touched him that Erica clearly didn’t care one way or the other, and he certainly wasn’t looking to discourage that–he still wanted to make sure she exercised some caution. For them, for the party, for herself. Eddie knew from experience…not everyone took as kindly to that sort of talk as he did. 

“I know that. Think I’d just go blabbing your business all over town to anybody but you two? No,” she mimed locking her lips shut and throwing away the key. “I’m like Fort Knox, and don’t you forget it.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I didn’t think you would, it’s just–maybe, uh. Don't even mention it to me later on. ‘Kay?”

“You are so weird,” Erica informed him, blunt as ever.

“Oh, trust me, you don’t even know the half of it.” He bit his bottom lip, not quite able to tamp down on his wry half-smile. She was talking to the Freak of Hawkins High after all. He’d heard way worse. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'll keep your little secret. But I reserve the right to say I told you so. And,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, “don't say I never did anything for you.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Eddie gave her a mock salute, which earned him her exhausted, withering side eye. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Hey, Steve!” He looked up to find Steve doing his best to block Lucas’s next shot, moving around the court with all the grace and swiftness of a dancer. “You wanna help me out here, dude, or what?”

Eddie popped up, bouncing down from the bleachers in a single, smooth jump. “Duty calls!”

Trotting back out towards the court, he watched the two of them face off, Lucas dribbling closer and closer to his target. 

“Get him, Lucas!” Erica heckled, loud enough the sound of her voice reverberated in his wake. 

And it seemed Lucas was about to do just that–until Steve twisted, clearly going for the same maneuver he’d used to sneak away the ball from Eddie earlier. Eddie’s breath caught, anticipation thrumming through him as he waited for Steve’s inevitable victory. 

…Except then Steve let out a pained shout, crumbling in on himself and just barely managing not to hit the pavement. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” Eddie’s heart was in his throat. He had never been so happy to have an added burst of speed in his life, all but flinging himself across the court to get to Steve. “Jesus Christ, Jesus H. Christ!”

With Lucas so close, he was already stooped over and speaking in a soft voice by the time Eddie skidded to a halt beside them. “Eddie? Hey, man, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Steve hissed, waving them both off on instinct–the Harrington hero complex, back at it again. “Or, okay…maybe fine’s being a little bit generous here.”

He caught Eddie’s eyes, then, sending him a look of concern mixed with the slightest hint of accusation. Which was pretty rich, considering how willing Steve had been to brush it all off just a minute ago, until it caught up with him just whose pain he was actually currently dealing with.  

“Uh, yeah, you’re–not looking so hot there, buddy.” There was a joke in there somewhere, about how Steve wasn’t exactly his usual handsome self, but he was clearly hurting too much to catch it. …Not that Eddie was sure he would have taken it too kindly if he had. “Here, Eddie, man, let me help you out.”

He rushed to catch Steve on the opposite side from the one he was favoring, helping to support his weight. 

“Anything I can do?” Lucas asked, hovering nervously, the corners of his mouth tugged down into a concerned frown. 

“No, I’m alright. I’m alright,” Steve repeated, a variation on his refrain from before, like saying it enough times would make it so. “Harrington’s got me.”

He didn’t quite tack on the flirtatious Don’t ya, big boy? from the RV, but the memory of it echoed between them nonetheless. 

“That I do.” Eddie gave Lucas a nod. “Go on ahead, Sinclair. We’ll be right behind you.”

While Lucas hesitantly led the way, Steve sent Eddie a feeble smile, his teeth still gritted in pain as he leaned into him heavily. “...Thanks.”

Guilt raged inside him, both at the simple fact that Steve was now having to deal with his body’s bullshit, and that he hadn’t thought to tell him to be on the lookout for the warning signs that things were about to go sideways. 

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” Then he added in a low undertone. “Least I can do…especially since it’s my fault in the first place.” 

“Come on, dude, don’t do that,” Steve chided automatically. Shooting a look in Lucas’s direction, his next words came out hushed. “...But we’re totally gonna talk about the fact that you’ve been hiding this from all of us later.” 

“‘Hiding’ is such a strong word.”

Steve’s expression went completely deadpan.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing if you were in my shoes? No way, man. I know you too damn well for that, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m in them now.” He inclined his head towards where he was slowly shuffling Eddie’s Reeboks over the blacktop. “And from where I’m standing, I feel pretty confident saying you definitely should have told us.”

“Funny, that didn’t exactly sound like a denial of your own tendency towards knightly stoicism, good sir.” 

“In English, please, Eds. You can’t seriously expect me to translate your nerdy talk when my side hurts like hell.”

Eddie winced, the guilt back in full force. “Shit, sorry. What I’m saying is…nowhere in there did I hear you say you’d tell me, or Robin, or the kids if you got in a bad way. In fact, all evidence points to the contrary.”

“...That’s not the point.” 

“Kinda is, sweetheart.”

The endearment was one Eddie usually reserved for when he was feeling bold enough to indulge in a little playful flirtation, but in that moment it had just sort of…slipped out. 

Steve didn’t seem to mind it, though, given he didn’t so much as stiffen, instead staying firmly burrowed into Eddie’s side. Then again, the pain was probably acting as a powerful distraction. 

Once they finally made their way to the bleachers and back within earshot of the kids, Steve murmured, “We’re so not done with this.” A promise and a threat, all rolled up into one.

“Rest now, man. There’ll be plenty of time to scold me later.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Steve did as instructed. He winced while Eddie helped ease him down into a sitting position, and Eddie couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath alongside him, as if the pang had shot through them both. 

“What happened?” Erica demanded. She was standing up fully in the bleachers now, the annoyance radiating off of her betraying just how worried she really was. 

“A taste of karma, probably,” Eddie joked, trying to inject a bit of levity into the tenseness that had settled all around them. “After years of badmouthing, isn’t it only natural basketball would turn the tables and try to eliminate him, finally seek its long-awaited revenge?” 

Lucas and Steve both sent him wide-eyed looks, a mixture of horror and guilt on their faces, but Erica only snorted. 

“See? She thought it was funny.”

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s a psycho,” Lucas accused glibly. Erica stuck out her tongue in reply, the pair of them momentarily diverted, just like he’d hoped they would be. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just–went a little too hard, too fast. That’s all,” Steve assured them, before adding pointedly, “After everything, it’s pretty clear I’ve still got some healing to do. Which…duh. Plus it wouldn’t, like, kill me to take it a little easier on myself.”

Lucas cringed in sympathy nonetheless. “Sorry your first game didn’t exactly go like we planned.”

Eddie was intimately familiar with Steve’s blank, hiding-the-pain expression, so he recognized it easily on his own face. Still, Steve managed to muster up a stiff smile for the kid. 

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Sinclair. Chin up. Comes with the territory, right? It’s not like it was your fault…or anybody’s, really.” His eyes deliberately darted to meet Eddie’s. “It’s just…one of those things, you know?”

“Does this mean you’re not gonna wanna play with us anymore?” The words came out of Lucas in a rush, his eyes flitting guiltily between Steve and Eddie, then back again. 

In spite of Steve’s reassurances, it was clear he was still trying to shoulder some of the burden. Alongside that, though, Eddie thought he heard just a touch of disappointment. 

Steve turned to gaze up at Eddie, chewing on his bottom lip. He could see that same sense of hesitancy reflected in wide brown eyes. 

“Aww, you can’t run out on us now, Eds. You promised you were trying to turn over a new leaf here,” Eddie wheedled, batting his eyelashes. 

It was a move straight out of the “Harrington Charm” handbook, one Steve had jokingly pulled plenty of times before, whenever he wanted to twist Eddie’s arm on something. 

(And so what if Eddie caved to it basically each and every time? He was only human.) 

“Once you’re back at full fighting shape…you gotta come back. Right? After all, can’t let all those hidden talents go to waste, now can we?”

Matching expressions of giddy relief bloomed over both Lucas and Steve’s faces, bright enough to warm even the deepest cockles of Eddie’s once sports-hating heart. 

“Of course I can’t,” Steve snapped a finger in Lucas’s direction. “So you better keep up the practice, Sinclair. I want you in tip-top shape for our rematch.”

Lucas nodded eagerly. “You got it!”

In the past couple of hours, Steve had probably done more to convince Lucas of Eddie’s sincerity when it came to that future apology than he had managed on his own in months. For that, he’d be eternally grateful.

“Can’t believe the two of you managed to turn Eddie Munson of all people into a sports fan,” Erica said drily, though Eddie caught the knowing twinkle in her eye. 

“I mean, it was only a matter of time before I turned to the, uh,” Steve’s brow wrinkled briefly before his face lit up, finally landing on the reference he was searching for, “the light side of the force.”

Star Wars, that was the one area of nerd culture where he could–usually–be counted on. 

“Think that near fall might have rattled you more than we thought,” Eddie ribbed good-naturedly. “Next thing you know, you’ll be denouncing your life of delinquency and D&D and joining up with one of those sports club thingies down at the YMCA.” 

Steve’s grin was wicked. “Hey, I already know I look good in these shorts. Maybe I could pull off a jersey, too.”

Eddie flushed as Steve’s fingers pinched the edge of said tiny basketball shorts, skirting so close to dark leg hair and pale skin he could almost feel it, like the phantom of a touch. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hurry up and get you home, basketball star.”

With a nod, Steve sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing while he prepared to stand. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold your horses there, Munson.” Eddie dropped a hand on each of his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. He gave Steve a quick, assessing look. 

Then he nodded once, resolved. 

“What?” Steve asked, glancing around himself in confusion. “What is it? Knock it off, dude, you’re starting to freak me o–” 

Unceremoniously, Eddie scooped him up and into his arms. 

Steve let out a yelp in protest as he rose into the air, arms coming up to wrap instinctively around Eddie’s neck and cling onto him tightly. “Oh my God, oh my God! If you drop me, man, I swear to God–”

Careful of Steve’s now sensitive side, Eddie gave his arms a subtle flex, “With these muscles? Fat chance, dude. Besides, you’re precious cargo. I swear not to harm so much as a single shaggy hair on your head.” 

Up close, the redness on the tips of his ears really was something. Eddie would have to remember that for later, make sure to drag his wild mane over more than just his face whenever he got embarrassed. 

Lucas groaned, faking a gag. “Seriously, guys? Not in front of the children.” 

Beside him, however, Erica looked positively gleeful. 

It was Eddie’s turn to feel that tell-tale flame of heat creeping over his face, for being quite that obvious. At least the eldest Sinclair was just playing it off as more of the ‘Mom and Dad’ routine he’d accused them of earlier. 

Determined not to appear more flustered than he already did, he gave the pair of them a quick jerk of his head. “Move out, troops.”

Fortunately, they started heading towards the car with little fanfare, the peanut gallery for once falling blissfully silent. 

As Eddie fell into step behind them, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to keep an even pace, even with Steve in tow. He knew he was a bit gangly, sure, but he wasn’t exactly a small guy. So, honestly, it came as a shock, just how light his body felt in Steve’s strong arms. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Steve started, tone furtive, “you know you really don’t have to do this.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Eddie clucked his tongue. “Au contraire, my good man. Lest we forget, post-bat attack, you were the one who literally held my guts in.” 

The pale skin of the face Steve was currently wearing went even paler, and not because Eddie had done anything as thoughtless as accidentally jostle him. “Jesus, Eds, don’t remind me.”

“All I’m saying is, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to return the favor, after something like that. So, shush, Harrington. Sit back, relax, and…I don’t know. Maybe try to enjoy the ride?”

And though Steve did grumble out a few more half-hearted protests, he also seemed to melt more solidly into Eddie’s hold after that. For all his insistence that Eddie should be doing a better job looking after himself, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since Steve let someone take care of him like this. 

So when Steve finally let go enough to rest his head against Eddie’s chest, a warm weight above the steady beat of Eddie’s borrowed heart, he quietly resolved to take on that mantle for himself, always be at the ready to catch Steve if he fell. 

If I accidentally missed anybody on the taglist, or you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Taglist: @tinytalkingtina @sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @lingeringmirth @eriquin

@grimweathers @too-efn-old-to-be-here @stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness @highkingpenny

[wutheringmights]

Commentary for latest CTB chapter???👀👀👀👀

Thank you! You guys are as prompt as ever. Unfortunately, I needed a few days to get my thoughts together (and honestly would have taken even longer if I wasn't going out of town this weekend).

I kinda struggled a bit to have Important Thoughts about this chapter (I have been so tired all week), but I did my best.

(Triggering content from the chapter are discussed below).

I’ve mentioned many times already that I suffered from a massive bout of writer’s block during this chapter; and it’s a bit hard to pinpoint what exactly caused it. 

On one hand, I think the last chapter was just so much that I may have burnt myself out on an emotional level. Usually, a week or two off is all I need to fix it, but I also had a lot of personal responsibilities that took up all of my bandwidth. 

And, frankly, there’s a part of me that is a little freaked out that I’ve been working on this story for so long, and that I might not be able to finish it within my self-imposed deadline (if I have to see CTB’s 4th birthday, I am gonna lose it). That’s not to say that I don’t enjoy writing CTB or that I feel pressured to keep going; I just felt exhausted and overwhelmed by how much of my life I’ve sunk into a story that not only refuses to end in a timely manner, but that I can’t share with anyone I know in real life. 

My burnout required a few months' rest to get over, but that’s not to say I didn’t try to work on this chapter that entire time. 

So I actually started this chapter back in April, right after I published STP. I wrote this opening scene of Link ruminating over the past and got stuck trying to transition to him being found. I got so stuck that I ended up bouncing over to the present-day section, where I got stuck in a new and novel way (which I’ll talk about more later). 

That means that everything else in the past I wrote the day before posting. On one hand, I was raring to go and I felt really good getting all those words onto paper. It did a lot for my ego. On the other, I really wish I took more time to revise a lot of this. I think the pacing overall is really strong, but there’s a few ideas I threw out into the story that I really wish I lingered on. 

For example, I mention that Link’s physical abuse was a relatively short stretch of time compared to how significant it is. Him being violent towards the engineer feels like it went on forever and forever, but it only lasted about 4 months. I like this detail so much because it helps to illustrate how even short-term abuse has lifelong effects on people. If I lingered on this chapter a bit more, I would have found more ways to ruminate on it. 

I almost had Ayane discover Link in his house. I ended up changing it to Jakucho since, as much as Ayane likes Link, she would not care enough to go check up on him.  

For the longest time, I imagined Link’s room at the Miyashita estate to be the same as the one he was held prisoner in post-Kakariko Well. But I ended up stating in that chapter that the room was located in a part of the house he had never seen before. So Link’s room was changed from a formal guest room to a study.

In universe, this is so that he’s encouraged to read books and is easily within Jakucho’s reach.

I personally got a hearty chuckle out of Link being denied chopsticks by default; he’s probably very good at using them in the present, but during this time he’s probably really shit at it. Real white boy behavior. 

If I gave myself more time to work on this section, I would have played around with the idea of him being haunted by an imaginary engineer, just as he had been haunted by an imaginary version of his old self on the way to the Kakariko Well. I don’t know if I would have committed to it, though. On one hand, it would have been a cool way to illustrate his inner thoughts. On the other, it implies a mental break I don’t think he’s experiencing. 

On a similar note, I worry that this chapter wasn’t that effective because it was way less (for a lack of better words) dramatic than the past few “Link Has A Breakdown” chapters have been?

Let me explain. So nearly every time Link has been under emotional duress before this, I’ve played with the prose to show how his reality is being warped. Take chapter 24 for example. Link gets stuck on the engineer leaving him, so the passage of time in that chapter becomes unclear-- both in him not realizing how quickly time is passing and him constantly going back to the day he realized the engineer was gone for good. The prose is written in a way that conveys that reality has broken. It’s very melodramatic. 

But for this chapter, reality is firm. Link’s mind has cleared enough to see what happened in the past clearly. The prose can’t dramatically screw with perception because that’s not what’s happening. The passage of time and the depiction of reality has to be crystal clear. 

So despite making these long, semi-experimental passages one of my signature moves, I couldn’t use it here without actively detracting from the story. On one hand, a more grounded chapter effectively shows how this breakdown is different. On the other, it’s a little basic. 

I have a bit of a problem where past!Ayane is a bit too similar in personality to Linkle. Ayane in the present day is supposed to be a cool teenager who is probably a bit of a mean girl at school-- the kind that will grow out of it the moment she leaves for college. But I wanted to show her entering this stage of life in the past, so she’s less bratty and more troublemaking.

Speaking of which, any reference to Ayane “going through a phase” is supposed to refer to her becoming a moody teenager. I didn’t realize until literally yesterday that it might come off as her family being transphobic. They’re supportive of her being a girl; they just get fed up with how much of a kid she is. 

The point of the chapter that made me start tearing up in the coffee shop is when Ayane got mad at Link for destroying the journal. I’ve been that kid who understands cognitively that a parent in your life is not well but still struggled with what that meant on an emotional level. Her family definitely explained to her that Link isn’t well and etc, but that can be kinda abstract for kids to really understand. So when the mental illness causes him to react badly, it seems to her that he is hurting her because he does not care about her. 

And there are a whole slew of issues you can explore with that idea alone, like how culpable is Link for his actions when he is unwell but still the adult? I’ve already started exploring bits of it with the child’s relationship with Link and the engineer. But exploring this idea from a different perspective (the child and his fucked up emotional issues vs Ayane’s normal preteen perspective) is always interesting. 

Link impulsively trying to kill himself was not in my original plan for the chapter, but after everything... yeah, he would try. This might have something to do with an episode of You’re Wrong About I was listening to work last week where they talked about the percentage of suicides that are impulsive decisions versus premeditated.

(Of course, today I listened to the episode on copycat suicides and now I am very nervous about this chapter being used as an instruction manuel)

I was going to have his attempt be to freeze to death outside, but then I thought of the obi belt, and I really could not resist alluding back to the hanging scene in chapter 13

It ended up being a good transition into a scene I’ve wanted to do for a while now: Ayane’s mom asking him to continue acting like Ayane’s older brother. 

I originally wanted that moment back when their friendship was just starting out, but decided to toss it to his depression arc to act as a moment of encouragement for him. What I didn’t expect was to stumble into this scene being both a way to talk him out of suicide, as well as him realizing he’s a shitty brother. I’m a terrible brother is a monumental realization for him, and I stumbled into it by accident. 

I was tempted to remove Ayane’s mother from this scene and put Jakucho here instead. But Jakucho would never ask Link to play an older brother role. Plus, I like the idea that a random, near-stranger accidentally talked him down without realizing what they were doing. 

And of course, having Ayane’s mother talk helps to develop the Miyashita family dynamic and give a better idea as to why Shigeo is estranged. 

Ayane’s mother also has a very tiny appearance earlier in the story-- chapter 9, when we meet Jakucho for the first time. Granted, I think I only referred to her as Impa’s sister. 

I also stumbled accidentally into the moment with the koi fish and using them as a symbol for perseverance. I really like that scene. I almost named the chapter “The Koi Pond” in its honor. 

I also admit that until fairly recently, I also didn’t know fish could live in frozen water. 

I went back and forth about whether I wanted to make a big moment at the beginning of the chapter about Link going non-verbal, or if I should let it build up slowly; I ended up going with the latter.

I didn’t want to make his non-verbalness the center of his issues when it’s just a consequence of his depression. He’s not depressed and non-verbal. He’s non-verbal because he’s depressed. So waiting until the second half of this section to address it homely drove home that this is only a symptom of a larger issue. 

This chapter also gave me the opportunity to address my sign language headcanon; it’s standard taught in school, but not in a way where everyone is actually good at it. It’s like learning Spanish in elementary school; you grow up remembering a few phrases and words, but never actually become bilingual. 

I like the way the bell motif is used in this chapter. In the past, Proxi’s bells are a sign that things are going to get better. In the present, the Castle Town bells signal that things are about to get a whole lot worse. 

But, yes! After all this time, Proxi is finally here. Hopefully the long wait for her introduction/return will be worth while.

For the present day:

Remember how I said my writer’s block struck for this part of the chapter as well? I solved it in the dumbest way possible. 

One of my big issues was that I didn’t know how to string everything that I needed to get done into a cohesive chapter (because if the chapter isn’t good, then I would have wasted so much of my time on a story that isn’t good, and etc.). My solution was to write a flat draft with only the stuff needed to move the plot forward (talking to Ganondorf, getting on the boat, etc), and then do revisions where I added character moments.

Except, I did character moments by the character. So I would spent a week adding scenes about Spirit, then another about Time, and so on. I said in this post that I turned a 5k draft into a 12k draft. Yikes. 

Because I wrote the chapter like this, I think the pacing is not great. The dinner scene and the post-Midlink gossiping was originally one scene, which I split into two to accommodate other character stuff. But I also think this is one of the most well-balanced chapters in terms of how many characters got a moment to shine. 

I’m really enjoying how much you all enjoy Ganondorf. I think nearly every comment on the chapter so far has mentioned him. I almost regret keeping him in the Zora’s Domain right now, but have no fear. He will be back. 

I am endlessly amused by this moment when Warriors realizes he has to talk to Spirit again, and he thinks “Spirit. / Fucking Spirit.” Is he cursing him out, or is he remembering... you know...

I mentioned a long time ago that one of the issues I had to fix when starting this chapter was finding something for the rest of the Chain to do in this final act. I figured out what their deal is, and a lot of tiny moments in this chapter is the set-up for that.

In a similar vein, I feel like I lost the thread on Time for a hot while there. I really had to mull over what his problem is, how he was going to respond, and how I can show Time responding near Warriors so that the reader can know. I’ve never had this much difficulty writing him-- or characters in general-- before. Hence, my on-going battle against writer’s block.

Another amusing moment that only I think it funny: Spirit lifting Warriors up by the scruff of his neck to haul into the alley way, like he’s an old cat. Honestly, I should write more jokes based around Spirit being strong enough to lift Warriors now.

Now that I think about it, I have a scene in my head where Warriors bitches so much while traveling that Spirit just throws him over his shoulder and carries him like a sack of rice. Is it out of character for both of them? Yeah, but we can imagine it happens in the AU where they are friends.

I have been wanting to provide some form of a resolution for Midna and Twilight for so long, but there hasn’t been a good moment to make them talk-- or at least, a moment where they can talk while Warriors is nearby to listen.

I really enjoy striking a comparison between how Midna and Twilight hashed everything out versus the bullshit Warriors got up to last chapter, especially because Midna and Twilight’s solution was to just give up. It’s not going to work out ever, so they might as well enjoy themselves now.

I love MidLink so much, but part of that love is in how it 100% would not work out between them. As Midna says, they would hate each other in a year. But they keep trying anyway because they love each other right now and that’s what matters. 

Speaking of which, Midna’s “we’ll hate each other in a year” line is a reference to the Greta Gerwig Little Women movie. I love that movie so much, enough that I can forgive Timothy Chamalet for being in it. He has a scene where his proposal is met with basically the same sentiment from Saoirse Ronan’s character. 

Tiny little headcanon: Skyloft’s theater style is very similar to ancient Greek theater, with heavy use of masks and choruses. That’s why he mimics holding a mask when performing Twilight’s line for Lana.

His line was originally something Twilight actually said, but then I went in a revised the MidLink scene and got rid of it. I kept Sky’s mocking of it because I thought it was more realistic.

I won’t say much about what the boys talked about post-confession scene, except to point out that they were kept up by the noise, they might have an idea of the timing of when everything went down during the Hot Mess

I’m glad everyone found my joke about always going to Wild’s era funny lol

Chateau Milk (aka: alcoholic milk beverages) is a tiny little world building detail I have been dying to do for ages. I wanted to use any scene of milk-drinking to shove in a joke about Hyrule being intensely lactose intolerant (he’s immune to all bad food except dairy), but I couldn’t squeeze it it. 

The ribbon kinda got a disproportionate role considering how briefly I referenced Spirit losing it last chapter. 

The reason Warriors was sharing a room with Four was so that I could finally do a follow-up on the Four Swords stuff I started forever ago, but it has once more been punted off to another chapter. Maybe one day...

By the time I got to this second conversation with Time, I was feeling much better about how I was writing him. Between this and his earlier appearance, this is definitely the stronger moment. 

I also deeply amused by Ganondorf and Lincoln have to pretend to be very bitchy with each other in order to not seem like they were married. I wanted to write a scene where Ganondorf argues that Lincoln needs to show him the proper request so that Lincoln would have an excuse to kiss his hand, but I ended up not having the energy or will power to go back in and add it. 

Spirit is so not used to anyone having a genuine interest in his senses that Sky’s question totally caught him off guard. Thank god Sky is the type of person who would ask because I got a good moment to clarify more of the limits of Spirit’s senses-- mainly, that a lot of the info he gets is so contextual that most of it is nonsense to him

To clarify, Spirit’s senses freak out people outside of his era. In New Hyrule, where the idea is a bit more common place, it’s considered rude to ask just as its rude to tell people what you sense. Lokomo customs, and all that.

I didn’t plan on having Spirit cut his hair, but I was deep in the throes of writer’s block and felt like I needed to write about Spirit doing something a little insane to respike my interest. Cutting off your hair because the guy you hated saved your ribbon fitted the bill nicely.

(Nonetheless-- RIP Spirit’s long hair. You were much beloved)

Spirit and Lana’s relationship has always been very underbaked on my part. I didn’t do a lot with them at the beginning of the story, and I haven’t done much with it now (or even much with Lana in general). Here is a vague attempt to salvage my mistakes. If I could ever revise the whole of CTB (I will never), this would be one of the things I would improve

Oh God... the Nephus stuff...

Like, I knew this was going to happen. What I worry about is whether it feels cheap to just have a character go back on their word like that. It’s realistic, if only because Warriors’s deal was really shitty. But on the other, it’s not very satisfying for the reader. You want the characters to have complex reasons for everything. I’m not sure that this qualifies. 

And this applies to all of the war stuff this chapter. Did Nephus lie about not wanting the Triforce? Whatever the answer is now, it’s not going to be satisfying. 

I know I said previously that Lincoln had no suspicions as to what happened during the Hot Mess. Well, I lied. Guy had it figured out fairly early on and only needed the opportunity to ask.

I just hope this scene with him and Spirit shows how Lincoln can be Warriors’s dad. Warriors is his mother’s son, but some of his insanity is from his father. 

Also we’ll pretend Lincoln has had that arm tattoo this entire time. The tattoo is not plot relevant, but it’s important to me.

Legend’s “it’s always the fucking Triforce” speech is my favorite Legend line in a chapter.

On a subconscious level, I was basing Castle Town on Boston. Why? I have no good reason. Just felt right. 

I really wish I managed to get us to Castle Town any time before this part of the story, if only to explore all the various neighborhood ideas I have. I managed to squeeze in the Gerudo neighborhood, but I have more thoughts on neighborhoods for the Zora, Goron, Rito, and even regular-old humans. 

I’m going to tell you right now that the girl in the graveyard is not plot relevant. I had a whole thing about the grave being a memorial for all the heroes across the eras and her praying to the memorial for a new hero that I just never got around to explaining

“Shines with humility” is another line that deeply amused me. Like, buddy. That is not how humility works.  

The Master Sword rejecting Warriors is supposed to feel very fitting and very unfair, all at once. I wanted people to understand why he’s lost the right to use her while still being frustrated that he was still being punished. I wanted this to be another opportunity for complex feelings. I don’t think the scene hit the right way, but that’s alright.

There was a point of time where I was plotting this half of the story when I realized I could use the Triforce scar idea that I had previously abandoned. I like the idea and the scene a lot, but I wonder if it feels forced? Like the whole story bent over backwards to make my silly idea possible. Let me know if this feels like a natural conclusion, or if I messed up somehow. 

That being said, this whole scene where Warriors and Spirit were cutting the Triforce into his hand was a lot of fun to write. Nothing breaks writer’s block like writing an insane character dynamic. 

I feel like I should talk more about themes and what this means for them, but you have eyes. You probably get the point by now. Instead, I will inform you that I did try to read that section to my writing friends, who all agreed that they did not have enough context to understand what the fuck was going on. And, yeah. That’s fair. 

I really wish I waxed more poetry about Warriors reentering the public eye. I did not have enough willpower to revise the hell out of that scene. However, I love the ending bit with Warriors asking Hyrule to make sure he gets the scar. 

One last thing-- I really should have done a revision because an important plot element may have gotten lost in it. I won’t say what, but hopefully it won’t cause problems down the road. 

And that’s the chapter! I feel like I didn’t have a lot to talk about this chapter, despite taking a near-week to write up all my thoughts. Next one should hopefully come sooner, but note that I still have a few more weekend trips and real life responsibilities to handle. My life is not settling down again until the beginning of October. 

I really want to emphasize that my bitching about my writer’s block and the source of it is not something I really need sympathy for, and it’s really not something encouragement is going to fix on it’s own. I appreciate the thought, but a lot of my issues right now just require some self-reflection on my part. I don’t want anyone feeling forced to drop a nice word or feel worried I’ll drop the story without it; I’ll still dedicated to finishing CTB. I just need some time (and to stop hanging out with my extended family). 

In other news, my friend offered to bind CTB into a book for me. Well, books. She knew the word count going in, but I have heard many complaints about how long CTB is. Apparently, it’s 6 volumes so far. Some volumes only have two chapters. When I told her I updated last Sunday, I saw the light leave her eyes. I love her dearly, and I will find a way to pay her back for this. 

[analiavs]

The PhotoShoot

Something I wrote a few months ago but I’m not gonna finish it so I might as well post it :P

Summary: Niki will do any photoshoot as long as he gets paid, but he can’t lie seeing Remy like this was cathartic

Niki POV, Wren x Remy, humiliation, incomplete

Niki just wanted to do his job. It kept the heat off him. And yes, it was almost unbearable to look Remy’s victims in the eyes as they put on whatever deranged show the man desired, but that’s what he had to do to get by. At the end of the day, a contract was a contract. He repressed any emotion as much as possible during those shoots.

But he couldn’t lie, seeing Remy like this did give him a sadistic sort of vindication. He almost teased him, but held his tongue. Watching Remy try to pull down the cow-print skirt while desperately looking anywhere but him was enough.

A cow-print tube top, skirt, and thigh highs. Even a bell collar. They had really committed to the look. The man accompanying him, Wren, in a crimson tailored suit laughed when he noticed.

“I was tempted to keep him all to myself, but you know a bet’s a bet.” He winked at him.

“I really want to get my money's worth for these pictures, so if he needs any directions give them to him. But once he gets into it he probably won’t need any encouragement.” Wren laughed. Obviously the humiliation was the point, but he just nodded demurely. If he antagonized Remy now, he’d have to pay for it later.

Though, Wren could trust his five thousand dollars were well spent. He did wonder what kind of bet it would take for Remy to debase himself on camera.

“Shut-up!” Remy snapped back at Wren, who just laughed.

“Now Remy, you know cows can’t talk.” He laughed, before grabbing Remy by his hair. “What do cows say?” He asked, an edge to his voice. Visibly shaken Remy squeaked out a moo. And Wren released him.

So even someone like Remy could find themselves at the bottom of some fucked up hierarchy. It was a tantalizing fantasy, to be the one holding the leash for once, but just as quickly as it consumed him he repressed it. It was time for business after all.

“Ok, Mr. Wren-“

“Wren is fine Niki.” The way he said his name had the promise of a bet in it. He refocused and cleared his throat before continuing.

“Wren, you requested solo and couples shots right? Will there be several outfits or just this one? And will you be his partner for today?”

“Just one outfit and me today. My little cow can take the biggest bulls, but I want to keep him all to myself today.”

“Wren!” Remy spoke up again, sounding scandalized. Wren grabbed him by the waist and methodologically spanked him ten times before muttering.

“What do cows say? I wouldn’t want these photos to end up circulating. But my fingers might slip if I have to keep repeating myself.” Remy immediately pressed himself against Wren like he was begging, moos shooting out of his mouth in desperation. Wren’s smile once Remy broke unsettled him. But it seemed he was placated for now.

“Like I was saying, this little cow can’t produce very much milk but he always does his best to make the real bulls feel good. Can’t keep himself off of them. So we made him an official position and we wanna show what kind of services he has to offer.” So it was a roleplay thing too. He could work with that.

“Well sir, I have some wonderful poses that will really help your adverts pop. All the studs will know exactly who to go to once I’m done.” When he realized that he was playing along with him, Wren smiled at him and he tried to ignore how it made him feel.

He grabbed Remy and brought him over to the posing station. Model shots were always a good way to start. He made him kneel and look up like he was ready to give some oral service. It would have been quite appealing if he wasn’t staring at him with all the hatred he could muster. Well maybe Wren would like the bratty look, who knew with these freaks. He snapped some shots with him posed like that, making small adjustments and movements.

“If you’re gonna glare, pout. That lip gloss you're wearing really makes your lips pop darling.” He’d defaulted to model mode, but it seemed Remy didn’t take offense. He looked behind him questioningly before pouting for him. So Remy was going to be agreeable, this changed everything. Once those shots were completed he told him to stand.

“Alright, bend a little bit and stick your butt out. You service bulls with both ends right? We gotta show off all your assets.” Remy bent a little, but not enough to really give him the look he was going for. Wren jeered from the sidelines.

“‘C’mon show Niki your panties! You have them on right?” Wren said. Despite his casual demeanor, he could hear threatening undertones. He heard a whiny moo before Remy turned around to show him his butt and lifted his skirt. And to his surprise cow-print panties greeted him. He snapped a few pictures. Remy wriggled his butt, but for whose benefit he wasn’t sure.

The tinkle of the cow bell seemed almost hypnotic. Once those shots were taken, he took them to Wren for inspection. His gaze grew hungrier the more he looked and when he made it to the panty shots he licked his lips.

“Next time I’ll get some nude solo shots, you're amazing.” He sounded almost reverent. It wasn’t the first time a customer had had this reaction, but it was certainly the first time he’d reacted to it. He tried to move forward casually.

“Alright now that we’ve got those photos, we can move onto the couples photos. I’ve got some poses in mind, but feel free to give me any guidance.”

“I just want him on my lap, you can pose us however you want.” Wren said eagerly. He pointed them towards the prop couch

[the-everqueen]

look. this fic started as crack taken seriously except now it's getting longer than a one-shot and we haven't even reached the crack yet. so i'm posting a snippet to like. encourage myself to finish it.

.....................

One thing has proven consistent in Matthew’s life, both as a human and as a raven to Dream of the Endless: changes in management are never smooth. It doesn’t matter how much you plan in advance, it doesn’t matter whether the new boss is qualified—things are gonna go sideways, at least until everyone adjusts.

Don’t get him wrong, Matthew doesn’t doubt that Morpheus did everything he could to ensure the Dreaming’s wellbeing before the Kindly Ones came for him. But jeez. Daniel Hall was a toddler just a few months ago and now he’s the next Dream King. Which Lucienne keeps telling Matthew isn’t quite right: the boss isn’t gone, the Endless are their functions, in some cosmic-fate sense Daniel was always already going to be Dream, yada yada.

Matthew doesn’t buy it. He went to the wake. He gave his tribute.

The kid is all right. But Matthew can’t shake the memory of him clutching the emerald at his throat, the echo of that familiar deep voice cracked down the middle. I am afraid. Hard to hold anything against him—he couldn’t have known what he was signing up for, and this ain’t exactly the kind of job that attracts volunteers. Still…the newness is unsettling. The realm feels like it’s on edge, waiting with bated breath to see what happens.

Which is how Matthew finds himself in search of a delinquent Nightmare.

The Corinthian, Dream tells him, has not shown up to work for the past several days. Dream doesn’t use those words, says failed to perform his function with a kind of detached precision like he’s reading from a script. It makes Matthew feel a little sick, though he’s ashamed to admit it: Morpheus’ words in an unfamiliar mouth.

He ignores that for the more pressing question: “He’s back in the Waking World?”

“No, he has not departed the Dreaming.” Dream’s brow furrows in transparent concern. Weird weird weird to see an identifiable emotion on that face—at least, one that isn’t annoyance or resignation. “I would know what he is doing, if not attending to dreamers.”

“Can’t you—I dunno—check in? You’re the boss.”

What Matthew doesn’t say is, that bastard promised me a reprisal. What he doesn’t say is, I heard Lucienne say he was supposed to be your masterpiece, but he gives me the creeps.

Morpheus would have heard these unspoken protests and said, You don’t need to like him to fulfill your duty to me. This Dream frowns and says quietly, “I don’t know that he would welcome my intervention.”

And that’s new, Dream taking into account someone else’s feelings, particularly one of his creations whose past incarnation—pardon the French—royally fucked him over. Then again, Daniel would have known the Corinthian as a protector of sorts. Maybe he’s feeling a residual fondness, that kernel of humanity come back to haunt the rest of them.

The thought makes Matthew sad. He ruffles his wings. “Yeah. Yeah, all right. I’ll fly around, see whether I can find him.”

Dream doesn’t give him any hints about direction, but Matthew figures it can’t hurt to swing by the Corinthian’s house. Well, “house” is a generous term for the architectural Kleenex box where the nightmare chooses to reside, as close to the shoreline as Dream would tolerate. Matthew wasn’t around to know whether it’s a relic of the first Corinthian, but he thinks it’s an eyesore regardless.

He swoops in through an open skylight. The place is too fucking massive for just one person, in his opinion, so it might take him awhile to search—

“Hey, birdie.”

Matthew lets out a croak of surprise and banks to land on something that might be a side table, might be a piece of driftwood enlisted for Aesthetic Purposes™. The Corinthian is sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by skeins of colorful thread. Instead of a knife, he’s got a needle pinched between his fingers, which he’s stabbing into…surprisingly not a body, but a piece of fabric stretched across some kind of wooden hoop.

“Man, what the fuck,” says Matthew.

“You’re the one who came here uninvited,” the Corinthian says with a shrug. He resumes the stabbing. Matthew can make out the vague outline of something that might be a duck, embroidered in grey and orange thread. It’s got a knife in its beak. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Delivering an HR report.”

“That’s a lie, Lucienne wouldn’t talk to me even through a middleman.”

“It’s from our mutual boss.”

“The Dream King?” The Corinthian frowns. “What’s he want?”

“For you to do your job, apparently.”

“I’ve been doing my job.”

“Uh, no, you haven’t. Not in the past week or two.”

If the Corinthian were a normal human being, Matthew would say the expression that passes over his face is guilt. The fine lines around his mouth(s) tighten, his eye teeth grind together in a gesture that might be glancing from side to side. But then the Corinthian refocuses on his embroidery project. “Well, tell him not to get his panties in a twist. I’ll be on the clock tonight.”

“If you want PTO—“

“—we don’t actually get paid—“

“—you gotta talk to Lucienne—“

“—I know, I know, submit the requisite forms, blah blah blah—“

“—and not just fuck off on your own, I mean, you of all people should know that.”

The Corinthian tilts his head. Something about the motion makes Matthew’s feathers stand on end. “Me of all people?”

“Well. Yeah.”

“No, no, birdie, why don’t you say what you mean.” The Corinthian flips the needle over his fingers and it transforms into knife. “Tell me how I’m special.”

Matthew lets out a nervous kraw, spreading his wings. “Man, you’re on thin fucking ice, you think Dream is gonna be chill about you killing another one of his ravens?”

“Alex Burgess shot Jessamy.”

“Because you made sure she was cut off from the Dreaming.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Close enough.”

“Really? You think the current Dream King is close enough to Morpheus?”

Matthew shuffles from one foot to the other. He ought to take flight, tell Dream that he found the Corinthian and his lord’s former masterpiece has taken up arts and crafts. Let Dream decide what the punishment for that offense is. But he feels the need to protest, to prove his loyalty. Maybe because he’s the New Guy (if not as new as the latest incarnation of the boss). Maybe because the Corinthian doesn’t get to question his commitment to the job.

He says, slowly, “He’s Dream of the Endless. That’s all there is.”

The Corinthian barks out a surprised laugh. “Guess you’ll stick around,” he murmurs cryptically, and the knife is a needle again. He lowers that awful not-gaze back to his embroidery hoop. “You can tell our Lord Shaper that his renegade hammer will be back to pounding nails tonight.”

“Was that an innuendo? It felt like it wanted to be an innuendo.”

“What doesn’t?” The Corinthian’s smile is all teeth.

Matthew ignores that. “So is this what you’ve been doing while AWOL? Making home decor?”

“What’s it to you, birdie?”

“I dunno, seems out of character. Shouldn’t you be plotting murder?”

“Maybe I’ve been slipping into the Waking World.”

“Nah, you aren’t stupid. You wouldn’t be that obvious about it.” Matthew pauses. “Besides, Dream said you hadn’t left the Dreaming.”

“So he is keeping tabs on me.”

“You’re dreamkin.”

“Yeah, veritable tracking chip built right in.” The duck is gaining feet, bright flashes of color making a pantomime of long strides. “Like knowing where your right hand is.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Would it bother you?”

“Not really. I mean, it doesn’t. When the boss rides along. Uses my eyes or whatever. Feels weird, but that’s what I’m here for.”

Matthew looks around the room. It’s organized like a human apartment, albeit one of those fancy places in Architectural Digest: sleek white sofa and matching chairs, glass coffee table that doubles as modern art, hardwood floors so gleaming Matthew can see his reflection in them. He’d assume it was for show except for details like the discarded books and the blood-spattered “Home Sweet Home” cross-stitch framed on the opposite wall.

“Are you…bored?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Taking up new hobbies, skipping out on work.” Matthew gestures at him with a wing. “I dunno, feels like burnout.”

“And what do you care?”

“Well, the last time you got dissatisfied with your job, a lot of people died—caw, fucking shit!”

He takes flight just in time to dodge the wicked blade that comes at him with eerie accuracy. It sticks in the table with a thunk, before it dissolves into sand.

The Corinthian snarls in triplicate, “That. Wasn’t. Me.”

“Okay! Okay, sorry, fuck.” Matthew circles in the air a few times before landing on the back of a chair. “You could just say so, don’t gotta get all murderous about it.”

“S’my nature,” the Corinthian says, mulish. His fingers sort restlessly through the rainbow of thread. It’s a minute before he chooses a sprig of green and starts threading it into his needle. Sunglasses materialize on his face, hiding his terrible eyes. “What are you hangin’ around for? Don’t you have a report to deliver?”

You don’t have friends, huh. Matthew is smart enough not to speak his observation out loud this time. Makes sense, though. The Corinthian is a Nightmare, and in the narratives he inhabits, all his overtures end in murder. Probably other dreams don’t want to get too close, even if this incarnation is supposedly collared and muzzled. Hell, Matthew didn’t want to come here just to see what the fucker was up to. In hindsight, he assumed something nasty. Not…whatever the fuck this is.

He thinks about what it might have been like, being Morpheus’ favorite. He thinks about Dream saying, I don’t know that he would welcome me.

He thinks maybe the Corinthian is lonely.

“I’m not a messenger pigeon,” Matthew says, ruffling his feathers in mock outrage. “Besides, Dream asked me to check out what you’re doing. You really want me to tell him you got distracted making home decor? Won’t that tarnish your image or something?”

The Corinthian frowns at his wobbly duck.

“He already caught me slacking on the job,” he says.

“Look, I’m just saying—if you want me to tell him you got distracted by some cute nightmare, I’ve got your back.”

The Corinthian curls his lip like a dog. “Why? You think I’m gonna forget about you ditching me back in Svartalfheim? I know you don’t fucking like me.”

“What, I can’t do a favor for a coworker?” The Corinthian’s fingers twitch, and Matthew croaks. “Fine, fine, sure, if it makes you feel better. I cover for your ass and you stop threatening to kebab me, how does that sound?”

The Corinthian stitches a whole patch of grass before he says, “All right. You got a deal.”

“Cool.” Matthew tries not to dwell on how it feels worse than if he’d made a pact with the literal Devil. Okay, no, that’s an exaggeration, Matthew went to Hell the once and he’s not keen on having another interaction with Their Unholiness anytime soon. But keeping a secret for the Corinthian feels a lot like betraying Dream, even if it’s harmless.

At least, he thinks it’s harmless.

Man, he’s going to feel so stupid if it turns out the embroidery is part of some scheme.

He mantles his wings, preparing to take off.

Hesitates.

“You got anything you want me to tell the boss?” he asks.

“Thought you said you weren’t a messenger pigeon.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t pass a word along. As a favor.”

The Corinthian doesn’t respond for a long minute. Matthew starts to think that’s his answer, but then he says, all lazy cheer, “Nah. I got nothing to say to him.”

And Matthew thinks that’s the biggest lie he’s ever heard but it’s not his job to argue, so he heads back to the palace.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Just Beneath The Flames (Part 5)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: cursing, smut at some point probably lmao zombie shit, typical canon violence. You know the drill.

A/N: Just want to remind everyone that I only have 8 chapters of this written up so far. Once those are posted it might be a little slower with updates. I’m trying to keep each chapter long, which is taking me longer to write them and I’m also super sick right now. And I mean like last night I collapsed and was in and out of consciousness and when I came to, I was being violently sick. Turns out my blood pressure took a nosedive and got super low. I’m B12 anemic and I think it’s related but I’ll guess I’ll find out when I see my doctor on Monday lmaooo. I’m in the middle of writing chapter 9 but obviously, I wasn’t able to finish it last night and I’ve been feeling pretty rough and out of it today. 

Also, this chapter wound up being 17 pages long and Tumblr was like ‘nah bro, you exceeded the text limit’. I don’t really want to put this as two separate chapters because it’s gonna fuck up my numbering system and I’m lazy and also, the last part of this just isn’t a standalone chapter, so I’m gonna do it as chapter 5.5 and post it right after this one. Fuck the text limit loooool  

—-----------------

You moved through the forest quietly, glancing around before you grabbed the arrow out of the squirrel and put it back in your quiver. You crouched, grabbing the squirrel before attaching it to the rope you had around your shoulder with a few other squirrels on it. You were hoping for at least some rabbit but the only thing you’d come across so far were the squirrels, so they’d have to do. You’d taken to hunting for a little more than you usually did so you could take some to Frank’s camp. It had been just over a week since the incident with the van and you’d been by the camp a couple of times with some meat for them, each time they appreciated it greatly. Apart from that, you hadn’t seen them much. Billy had told you the guys were going out all of the time hunting for a vehicle, but coming up empty-handed every time. You stood up fully and started to make the walk back to your treehouse. It was early morning and the air was crisper, telling you that you were on the cusp of winter. 

“Artemis, come in, this is Blackbird,” you heard from the walkie attached to your belt and you smiled to yourself as you grabbed it. 

“Go ahead, Blackbird,” you smirked teasingly as you slowly walked back. Every morning since you left with the walkie, Billy checked in with you and you’d chat for a bit. You’d admit you liked it. A niggling voice was in the back of your head telling you that you were making a mistake getting attached to these people, especially Billy. You’d grown fond of the group, although you didn’t know everyone very well, but they were good people. You’d especially grown fond of Karen and Frank, and then there was Billy. He’d jokingly mentioned that you’d bonded but it wasn't really a joke. Your time with him had made you feel a little attached to him and it worried you. He’d been so kind and encouraging to you and you hadn’t even worn your scarf since he’d spoken to you about it. He was worlds away from the man you met when he held a gun to your head but that was because he trusted you now, and you trusted him. It was nice knowing someone had your back but it was also scary as you knew what happened when you got attached to people. You’d tell yourself it would be best to create distance but then you’d think of the kids eating nothing but canned food and then having nothing left for winter, so you’d end up hunting so they’d have something to eat. Or Billy would radio you in the morning and you couldn't resist talking to him with a stupid smile on your face. You were getting sucked in and you knew you were and despite the voice in your head screaming at you to stop, you couldn't. 

“You out huntin’?” he asked over the walkie.

“Yeah, got a few squirrels but there’s nothing else here,” you sighed. You were worried about how scarce the meat was getting and you knew it would only be worse in the winter. 

“Hey, squirrel is still food,” he murmured and you could practically hear the smirk. 

“I know… I’m just hoping more will turn up. We need to make it through the winter,” you mused with a frown, unsure of just when you started using we and not I. 

“We’ll be fine. Still got a bunch of canned shit and once we find a car, we’re gonna hit up some stores,” he soothed and you nodded even though he couldn't see it. 

“How’s the hunt going?” you asked, still feeling that pang of guilt even though Billy had chided you more than enough times at this point that it hadn’t been your fault. He was quiet for a long moment before he replied.

“We’re still lookin’,” was his short reply and you knew it was short for a reason. It would only make you feel worse if he went on and on about how they hadn’t found anything yet but you knew they must all be feeling frustrated. 

“Anyway, got any plans later? You should come by for dinner and stop puttin’ it off or Karen’s gonna come by the treehouse and drag you here,” he snorted and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.

“I’m not putting it off…” you muttered even though it was a lie. You had been putting it off because the more time you spent with the group meant bonding with them more. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just come for dinner so I got someone interestin’ to talk to,” he murmured and you heard Frank yell an offended ‘hey’ before he’d stopped the walkie and it made you laugh.

“I’ll think about it. When I’m done with these squirrels I’m gonna head to that little store west of here, see if they’ve got any salt,” you replied. You’d already planned on going by anyway to drop off the meat for them so you knew they wouldn’t let you leave without having dinner, not tonight. The small store you were planning on going to was one of very few in walking distance and all the others had been picked clean. This one had been mostly bare the last time you’d been there but you hoped salt might have been something overlooked and you really needed some to preserve the meat you had.

“Need me to come with?” was his immediate response and you smiled to yourself.

“Nah, I’m good. You just keep looking for a car or something with the guys,” you uttered softly, a warmth spreading in your chest that he’d offered anyway and you knew if you’d said yes, he wouldn't have any issues about it. 

“Alright, make sure you stay safe. I’ll keep my walkie on if you need me,” he said firmly and once again you nodded without a real need to.

“I will, you guys do the same,” you replied.

“Copy that. Blackbird, over and out,” he ended and you snorted as you clipped your walkie to yourself once again. 

You got to work with the squirrels and it took a few hours to get done since they were small and fiddly. You separated it and bagged it up like you always did and then buried them to keep them cool for when you got back. The idea of going for dinner there made you feel torn in two. Part of you wanted to go, craved the companionship you felt whenever you were in the camp. Everyone always made you feel welcome and gave you a warm reception and you really enjoyed talking to Karen and Frank. A part of you also wanted to see Billy again but you tried to shake it. The last thing you needed was to start depending on anyone else, it would only be harder when you were alone once again. You emptied your backpack, only bringing with you a bottle of water and one can of soup in case of emergencies where you might be caught out there longer than you wanted and you also took your knife strapped to your thigh. You toyed with the idea of bringing your bow on the off chance it would be needed but you didn’t want to take too much. In a perfect world, there would also be some food left over in the store and you’d be bringing it back for you and the other camp.

You set off out and avoided the road, sticking to the tree line for some cover as you walked. You were still wary after what happened with Billy, not knowing if there was a new group in these parts you needed to be wary of. And with you being alone, it would make you an easy target. You weren’t in a rush so you took your time and tried to enjoy the walk. You were still on high alert but it didn’t mean you didn’t try to find the beauty in nature, even if the world had gone to hell. When there were no signs of the dead roaming around it was actually quite peaceful. You’d always loved nature, it had always brought you great peace to be out in the wilderness, although you never thought you’d wind up living in it. It took almost an hour with your leisurely pace before you finally saw the store. You took a moment to look around at the deserted road before you felt comfortable enough to expose yourself from the trees. There were three dead ones wandering around outside the store and you readied your knife, plunging it into the eye of the closest one as it made a move to grab you. It drew the attention of the other two who turned to you, stumbling their way over. Once you took care of those two, you walked over to the door, banging on it a few times. No noise greeted you so you pushed the door open, eyes rapidly sweeping the place to assess for threats. Luckily, it was safe and you walked inside and shut the door. The shelves were mostly empty and seemed to house mostly useless items, but as you walked around to where the salt and condiments were, a grin broke out on your face when you saw the salt. You grabbed all of the containers, knowing even this wouldn't be enough and would run out quicker than you’d like, but it meant you’d be able to preserve at least some meat for the winter. You wondered if maybe you’d be able to bag another deer before it was too late and then you could ration it through the harsher months. With your bag filled with salt, you decided to rummage around and see what else could be here hiding among the stuff most people left behind. You found some dried herbs and decided to take them. While they weren’t essential, it wouldn't hurt to spice up your shitty canned goods for once or even season the meat. You found a large ball of thick twine and you knew it would come in handy so you took that too, then went behind the counter to have a look. You found a small first aid kit under the counter that you presumed was for the staff. As you rifled through it, it didn’t have everything and was more for minor injuries but you took it anyway, hoping Curtis could make use of it at least. You found a jar of Nutella and a jar of peanut butter and figured the kids would love the treat so you shoved them in your bag too, just as your walkie went off.

“You there, Artemis?” Billy’s voice rang out and you grabbed the walkie from your belt.

“I’m here,” you answered as you continued to nosey around.

“Guess who found a pick-up truck?” he asked, sounding like he was smiling. The hand that had picked up a box of cereal stilled as a smile of your own overtook your face.

“Really?” you asked excitedly and he laughed over the walkie.

“Yeah, runs good and shit. I was out with Curt and we finally caught a break,” he grinned. 

“That’s awesome, I’m really happy for you guys,” you said softly. It also made some of your guilt ease a little, like every day that passed they didn’t have a vehicle and it hindered them going for runs, it made you feel worse. But now they had a car and the only thing they were missing were supplies. 

“What are you doin’ right now?” he asked, still sounding like he was smiling a little.

“I’m at the store,” you answered, finally looking at the box in your hand and realizing it was disappointingly open and empty and you set it back down.

“Find anythin’ good?” he asked curiously.

“Not too much but I found some stuff. I got salt too,” you grinned at the last part of your sentence. 

“Looks like we’re both havin’ good luck today,” he laughed lightly and you smiled.

“If you wanna wait there, we can come by and get you. It’s on the way back anyway and then you can come for dinner,” he offered. Part of you told yourself to say no, home wasn’t too far and it wasn’t like you really needed a ride. But the other part wanted to see him and your mouth seemed to be listening to that part of your brain.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon,” you murmured. 

“See you soon. Blackbird out,” he said, always taking the walkie talk so seriously when you greeted each other or ended the conversation and it made you snort. You carried on looking around the store while you waited but came up empty-handed. You even tried getting into the back room but the door wouldn't budge and the stench of death seemed to seep out from under it. You wondered if someone had died or killed themselves in there and they were slumped against the door, you didn’t care enough to force your way in. You were walking back through the store when something caught your eye under one of the shelves and you walked over, crouching and peering under it. It was a can of some sort and as you reached for it, you accidentally knocked it further under the shelf.

“Mother fucker,” you huffed, stretching your arm even more and not feeling too great about being so up close and personal with the gross floor. Your fingertips touched the can and while you had no clue what was in it, you really fucking wanted it anyway. In the midst of your struggle, you heard a car engine and you hoped Billy wouldn’t walk in while you were lying on the dirty floor, desperately trying to get the can because you knew you’d never hear the end of it. But just as you managed to roll the can a little closer to you and the engine stopped, you then heard another engine. Your body tensed but then you tried to calm yourself, wondering if maybe Frank and the others had also found a car too. You weren’t quite sure why your brain decided to be hopeful for a moment and you were quickly reminded why it was a stupid way to think as you heard yelling outside. 

You left the can where it was, standing up quickly with your knife at the ready. You couldn't see through the glass at the front of the store as it was all covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. You stood as close as you could to try and hear what was going on and used your sleeve to wipe away a tiny amount of the dirt. There was a man standing just in front of the shop door pointing a gun at Billy who was also aiming his gun at the man. The gun the other man had wasn’t a handgun like Billy’s though, it looked like some sort of semi-automatic rifle but you couldn't be too sure, you weren’t a gun person. You moved to look better before you spied Curtis on the ground, some blood on his head and he was out cold. It made a spark of anger flash right through you and part of you wondered if this was one of the guys from the other day, a thought that was confirmed when you saw the black van you knew used to be owned by Frank and Billy. The other vehicle was a Ford Ranger pickup truck.

“Just take me to your camp, man,” the man demanded in a smarmy tone.

“Like hell I will. I wouldn’t tell you that shit even if I was on my last breath,” Billy snarled, glaring at him. The man looked off to the side, in your direction, and you jumped up and out of the way, worried he’d be able to see you through the tiny bit of clean glass. It had the opposite effect of you staying concealed though when you accidentally bumped backwards into a stand that contained decaying postcards and it tumbled to the floor with a clatter. 

“I’m starting to think there’s something in there you really don’t want me to find,” you couldn't see them anymore but the man sounded like he was smirking, his tone condescending. 

“And why would you think that?” Billy asked harshly, but you picked up in the very faint waiver of his voice.

“You keep looking over my shoulder at the door and I don’t think it’s one of the dead that made that noise,” he answered patronizingly. The door started to open and you darted behind a shelf, peeking out to see the man walking backwards into the store doorway, not stupid enough to turn his back to Billy. You wondered if Billy hadn’t shot him yet because of the gun the man was holding. 

“You’re makin’ a big mistake,” Billy warned darkly and your hand tightened around your knife as you tried to think of a plan. 

“And why’s that? All I wanted was for you to take me to your camp,” the man smirked.

“Right, so you could kill us all,” Billy snorted and you could just imagine his brows raised like he did when he was being sassy.

“You could have walked away from this scott-free,” the man countered and Billy barked out a harsh laugh.

“You really think I believe that bullshit?” he asked. You weren't sure if Billy was stalling, giving you time to leave out of the back door. And even though that wasn’t really a possibility because it was blocked, you wouldn't have run and left him to face this alone anyway. You crept silently with a tight grip on your knife. The man was in the doorway, his back to you and blocking your line of sight to Billy. That was good though, it meant Billy couldn't see you either and possibly give you away. You were slow to keep quiet as Billy and the guy argued, Billy working mostly on trying to piss him off by insulting him. When you got close enough, you sprang up and shoved the knife roughly into the base of his skull just like you’d do to one of the dead. You didn’t feel any remorse as the gun clattered to the ground and you yanked your knife back out, blood gushing from his wound as he fell to the floor and Billy was now there staring at you with wide eyes. You were just glad the man hadn’t squeezed the trigger when you stabbed him, the possibility hadn’t even crossed your mind until the gun hit the floor. 

There was a beat of tense silence as your chest heaved, rolling both shoulders to loosen yourself up.

“You alright?” he asked after a moment. His dark eyes were assessing you, looking concerned. 

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one that had a gun pointed at you,” you muttered. 

“Right… But you just killed a man,” he frowned. It occurred to you then that he might think you’d never done that before. You knew he had, you’d seen him and Frank do it the night you’d met. But you never really spoke to Billy about some of the things you’d done since the world went to shit. You didn’t get any joy from killing people and it had only ever happened when they’d put you in a position to have to pick between your life or one of your old group’s lives or theirs. You’d never killed an innocent person. You had, however, become desensitized to it over time and you’d admit you had more compassion for the animals you killed for food than you did for the bad people that took advantage of the state of the world.

“It’s not my first rodeo, Billy. I’m fine,” you murmured. His eyes still looked concerned for a moment but he seemed to believe you as he nodded before he looked over to the side. It was then you remembered Curtis. You followed after him as he went over and crouched beside his friend, tapping him on the face.

“Curt, come on. Wake up!” he insisted. After a few harsh taps to the face. Curtis groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

“What happened?” he mumbled, blinking wearily as he touched his head, bringing his hand to his face and seeing some blood. 

“You got knocked out. Don’t worry, he’s taken care of,” Billy muttered darkly, helping Curtis sit up. 

“At least we found your van though,” you said with a wry smile and when Curtis glanced over to it, he smiled despite it all. 

“This guy with the ones that shot at you then?” he asked, letting Billy help him to his feet and he leaned against the truck.

“If the gun he was carryin’ was anything to go by, I’d say yeah,” Billy huffed. Billy walked over to the van, presumably to check if their stuff was still in there but you held no hope for that with the time that had passed. But still, having two vehicles in this world was a lot better than one. While Billy checked out the van, you got a bottle of water out of your bag and some gauze from the first aid kit you’d found, cleaning Curtis’ wound so you could see it better.

“What's the verdict, Doc?” he asked teasingly and you snorted.

“It doesn't look too bad, I don’t think it’ll need stitches. You might have a concussion though, but I’m presuming you know how you take care of yourself with that,” you murmured wryly and he nodded with a smile as you put a large bandaid over his cut.

“What the fuck?” Billy hissed and both you and Curtis looked over, seeing him standing near the open driver’s door with some papers in his hand.

“What is it?” Curtis asked warily and Billy gave him a look you couldn't quite place before he walked over and handed the papers to Curtis. 

“Was the stuff in the back?” you asked carefully. Billy didn’t look at you, his eyes pinned to Curtis as he read the paper but he did shake his head in answer. Despite already knowing that would be the case, you still felt disappointed. 

“Holy shit,” Curtis frowned as he flicked through the papers and you really felt like you were missing something here. 

“We need to get back to Frank,” Billy said gravely. You wanted to ask what was going on but decided to keep your mouth shut. Billy looked more pissed than you’d ever seen him and you’d thought you’d seen him pretty angry when the guys stole the van and rained bullets down on you both. This was different though and it made you feel a little nervous and tense. 

You were in the black van with Billy on the way back and Curtis drove the truck. You’d tried to insist you’d drive since he was possibly concussed but he’d adamantly refused so you wound up with Billy. The air was thick and tense, filled with silence as he drove with a thunderous face. You’d told yourself not to ask, not to get involved since this wasn’t your group and none of your business, yet you couldn't help the curiosity that was gnawing at you from the inside out at how he was behaving. 

“So… am I allowed to ask what’s going on?” you asked warily. Part of you expected him to snap at you with how he was looking, but instead, he glanced at you for a moment before looking back out to the road with a sigh.

“You said you knew who Frank was before, right? The Punisher?” he asked.

“Yeah…” you answered, curious where this was going. His hands tightened on the wheel and he rolled his shoulder, glaring out at the road.

“You heard about what happened to his family?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

“Yeah… Didn’t it turn out to be some military guy?” you asked, remembering when it all came out about the man higher up in the military who had arranged it all. The media had a field day with all that shit when it came out. The man had been on the run by that point since he’d been found out but they never got a chance to catch him as the world fell apart soon after. 

“Yeah. His name was Rawlins, but back in the Marines we knew him as Agent Orange. Guy was a piece of work, in charge of a squad me and Frank were on. It was some real bad shit… and I’m-I’m talkin’ about Phoenix Program kinda shit. Anyway, this asshole was the one to kill Frank’s family, tried to kill Frank too but the bastard's too tough to let a bullet in the head take him out,” he rambled and you watched him carefully, noticing how tightly wound he was, how his voice cracked when talking about the family. You knew Frank and Billy were best friends and they’d served together but you didn’t know everything. You did remember Karen’s words about how Billy lost just as much as Frank did and it was obvious Billy cared about Frank’s family too. It made sense given what he’d told you about growing up without his own family in the system. 

“The asshole back there… he had some documents in here that has Rawlins’ name on ‘em,” he bit out after a while of you not knowing what to say and your brows furrowed a little.

“And you think he’s connected to him?” you asked hesitantly. He let out a mirthless chuckle as he once again rolled his shoulder.

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” he muttered with a shake of his head. 

You weren’t really sure what to say to him to make him feel better. You could sit there and try to convince him that it could be a coincidence but you weren’t about to do that when it could turn out this was connected. This was clearly a sore subject for him and you felt at a loss. You also felt a little uncomfortable at being there when he broke the news to Frank who was probably going to take it just as well as Billy was. 

“You can just drop me off on the way there,” you murmured after what felt like the longest uncomfortable silence in your life. He turned to you then, a grin on his face that was in complete juxtaposition to how angry he seemed.

“If I do that, Karen’ll kill me. You’re supposedta come for dinner, remember?” he asked with a raised brow. 

“That was before all this. I mean… I don’t think Frank and everyone else want to be told this shit with a stranger there,” you countered with a wary look. He frowned then, all amusement once again gone from his face.

“You need to stop doin’ that shit,” he muttered, his tone harsh and it made you blink at him.

“What shit?” you asked defensively. 

“You’re not a stranger to us. You think I don’t know what you’re doin’? You’re pushin’ yourself away from the group, tryin’ to act like you aren’t part of it. And yeah, you’re not part of the group as in you stay with us, but you’re still part of the fuckin’ group, Y/N. You’re still one of us,” he scolded and you looked away from him. You hadn’t thought it was obvious what you were doing and if you were honest, it was uncomfortable as hell to be called out on it to your face. Despite his words, you didn’t feel like part of the group, didn’t feel like one of them. You’d integrated somewhat, an acquaintance. Maybe even a friend. But it didn’t mean you felt like you belonged there with these people who already knew each other before the world went to shit. The people who already had a history and you were the only odd one out. 

“I need to swing by my place and get the meat anyway, so you could just drop me off and I’ll get it and come by,” you murmured, very obviously avoiding the topic at hand. The look he gave you made it obvious he knew what you were doing but he blew out a sigh.

“Alright,” he huffed, clearly not happy about it. You hoped if you took your time enough that the awkward talk would be done before you got there. The rest of the ride felt even more tense and you weren’t quite sure why. Maybe it was because Billy seemed like he was in a mood with you over you leaving but you weren’t sure why it was such a big deal. You had no idea who this Rawlins fucker was except from what you’d seen in the news. This whole thing seemed very private and very personal and you weren’t part of it. When Billy pulled up, you glanced at him warily, not liking how your stomach twisted uncomfortably because he wasn’t happy with you. You wondered just when the fuck you started caring so much.

“I’ll see you soon,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag from the floor. His eyes softened for a moment then as he looked at you and nodded.

“If you don’t come for dinner, I’ll send Karen,” he smirked and the relief you felt that he wasn’t being an asshole with you was immense. You snorted and shook your head.

“I’ll be there,” you relented, a smile toying on your lips as you slipped out of the car. 

Taglist: (if you’ve been asked to be tagged and aren’t here, it wouldn’t let me tag some people.)

@firexfate

@blanchedelioncourt

@ariesbutalibra

@sunshinedaisies-anddeath

@snowkestrel

@music-indie-tv

@idaofinfinity

@sweetserendipity65

@ramadiiiisme

@k-marzolf

@celestialams

@woowwwee

[atlabeth]

turn back the clock - rafe cameron

summary: your boyfriend breaks up with you days before your best friend's wedding. you're dreading having to face it alone, but when some behind-the-scenes tampering by the bride brings you back into contact with your high school crush, more comes to light than you could've ever imagined.

a/n: thank you to ri for helping me decide which current wip to finish and this post i saw on ig for inspiring it in the first place. i love second chance romance so much and the obx3 trailer made me wanna start writing for rafe again so here we are lmao.

this has been in google drive hell since august and i finished the rest of it all in one go at midnight when i was supposed to be doing homework. so i hope you enjoy

wc: 4.2k

warning(s): small bit of angst at the beginning but basically all fluff, like toothrotting. also reader was a college track athlete but nothing else about her is described

(no i will not stop using this gif of him in the blue suit<333)

You didn’t really wanna have to make this call. Instead, you just wanted to stew in your own misery, watch some sappy rom-coms that make you feel even worse about what happened, and maybe go out and buy a couple pints of ice cream. 

But the day wasn’t supposed to be about you. And you owed it to Elizabeth to at least explain why you might be in a vaguely shitty mood at her wedding.

Honestly, though—you should have expected this. 

“He what?” 

“Liz—” you started, but you knew once she got going there was no bringing her down until she was done. 

“He broke up with you?” 

“Yes,” you said, and you clenched your free hand in a fist to keep from choking up. He didn’t deserve any of your time, you knew that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t hurting. It didn’t mean tears didn’t well up every time you thought about him. “He just sprung it on me out of nowhere last night. I thought we were doing pretty well, but,” you let out a watery laugh, “I guess not.” 

“I can’t believe him,” she seethed. “I told you not to trust guys with J names, and Jason is like, the biggest offender! I told you the moment we met him at that frat party he was bad news—” 

“You don’t need to go on a rant!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I already know how much of a jerk he is— well, I might’ve just had my eyes opened to it, but I know. I just wanted to tell you that I’m… going through some stuff, I guess, in case I seem off during all the planning. But that’s all—you have to promise me that none of the focus is gonna be on me, because this is your day.” 

“...Okay,” she said after some hesitation, “but you can still rant to me whenever you want. Just because you’re one of my bridesmaids doesn’t mean all you have to talk about is the wedding.” 

“How can I not talk about the wedding all the time?” you exclaimed. “Lizzie, I’ve been involved in so much of the process with you that it’s basically all I can think about. This is the most excited I’ve been for anything ever.” 

“Didn’t your brother get married last year?” she said. 

“You know what I mean,” you chuckled. “I just can’t believe you’re getting married, and to Nate, too. It feels like it was just yesterday that you were telling me about the cute boy in your trig class, and six years later and you’re marrying him in a week.” 

You could hear the smile in your words. “It really does feel like yesterday, huh? I remember going on and on about how much I liked him after that group project we got stuck together for—y’know, your encouragement was the only reason I ended up asking him out.” 

“Then I’m glad I kept bothering you,” you said with a smile of your own. “You guys are so great together.” 

“I just wish you would’ve taken my—” Liz suddenly stopped talking on the other end, and you frowned a bit. 

“What?” 

“...Nothing,” she said very suspiciously after a pause. “I, uh— I just remembered there’s something I need to do. Wedding related. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“Yeah—” you said, but she had already hung up. You chuckled and shook your head as you set your phone down. 

You didn’t really know what that was about, but you were looking forward to the wedding—it didn’t matter that you were suddenly single. 

You and Liz had been best friends since you were put next to each other in the seating chart in sixth grade science—and even though she went to NC A&T and you were all the way at San Diego State, you talked basically every day for all four years of college. Sometimes you even made the flights to see each other, and it was worth every single dollar. 

It made you feel a lot better, knowing she had your back (and knowing that she had likely already blacklisted Jason from the guestlist made you feel pretty good too). 

What you didn’t know, though, was that what she was doing at that moment would make the wedding night a whole lot more interesting for you. 

And it all had to do with one Rafe Cameron from high school. 

-

The air was thick with a thousand different perfumes and the stiffness of hairspray along with a whole lot of anxiety as a result of the eight bridesmaids who inhabited the room trying to make sure they looked their best before the procession started in T-10 minutes. 

You were, of course, stressed as well. It was like everything that was fine for the months leading up to the wedding had suddenly decided to go wrong just to spite you. You’d forgotten to take a tag off of your dress and it was digging into a very particular spot of your back, your hair was not cooperating—Ariel and India and Natasha might have said that you looked beautiful, but it was just not working with you—and you were about to run out of your favorite mascara. All small things, but they were beginning to add up. 

And to add to your stress, your phone started to go off. When you opened it, you saw it was a text from Lizzie. 

girl I am so sorry to ask you this I know we’re so close to the start 

but Ayana just told me that she left my bouquet on the table in the sideroom of room 139, she forgot to take them out of the vase! 

sisters aren’t even on top of things when they’re your maid of honor apparently 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃 

you’re the closest to the room and the only other person I can trust rn because Im going slightly wedding crazy, can you please get it??? I will love you more than my future husband and you will have my eternal gratitude 

using my track past against me i see 

you are pushing it babe 

I know 

help me obi-wan kenobi you’re my only hope 

lol 

dw I got this 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

You are my savior and all your drinks are on me next time we go out 

You sighed and shook your head, slipping your heels off in favor of the flats you came here in. The last thing you needed was to break an ankle before the procession. 

“I’ll be back!” you announced to the rest of the bridesmaids—though you weren’t sure any of them heard you in the havoc—before you ran out of the room. You were thankful this dress had a slit. 

It took a minute for you to get there, makeup and hair still intact, but when you did you didn’t see a vase. You huffed a sigh and got to work going through everything. The actual last thing you needed was for Liz to not have her bouquet as she walked down the aisle. 

“Oh— I’m so sorry, I didn’t even know there was another person in here.” 

You turned around from your crouched spot on the floor at the voice, and you nearly toppled over when you saw who it was. 

“Rafe?” you marveled. Though it was posed as a question, there was no doubt about it. You’d only thought about him basically every day for all of high school. 

He said your name with the same surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the same time as he stared at you for a moment too long. You swore his eyes went up and down, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, when he blinked and shook his head. A wide smile spread across his lips in its place, and it did the same sort of thing to you that it did in high school. You weren’t immune to a Rafe Cameron grin as a freshman, and apparently you weren’t as a college graduate either. “What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to find Lizzie’s bouquet ten minutes before the wedding,” you said with a slight laugh. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uh, Topper left his pocket square in here, apparently,” he said. “We drove here together, and he’s the best man so he’s scrambling all over the place, and—” Rafe paused and he breathed a laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners in the same way they did in high school. “You get the idea.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “I had no idea you were gonna be at the wedding. I—” you chuckled and shook your head. “I guess I forgot that you and Nate went to UNC together.” 

“Yeah.” Rafe laughed again, though it was a bit nervous as he ran a hand through his hair, stuffing his other hand in his pocket. “It’s uh— it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, though. What, the last time we actually had a conversation was—” 

“That one party at UNC,” you supplied, and you stood up, leaning against the countertop. “The one that Liz dragged me to when I came to visit her for spring break sophomore year. We saw each other there.” 

“...Yeah,” Rafe repeated, and his smile softened. “Yeah, it was then. I didn’t know you remembered that.” 

“‘Course I did,” you said. “I mean, the last time before that was the huge party you, Kelce, and Topper all threw in the last week of summer. Before we all went our separate ways.” 

“Oh, that was…” he laughed as he bowed his head a bit. “That was something. Uh, it should be a rule pre-college boys should not be allowed to be around that much alcohol without supervision. I’m surprised no one died that night.” 

You grinned as the memory of it all came back. It was hard to believe that it was one of the last times you saw Rafe. That it was the last time you saw Rafe for two whole years, and the next time you got even the slightest glimpse of him was a minute long conversation with your very drunk self before you were dragged out by your one sober friend. 

Seeing Rafe was the only thing you remembered from that night.

“I can’t believe it’s been so long,” you said, your voice a bit softer. “College really did something to us, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he said, and his smile faded the slightest bit. “Being on separate coasts’ll do that to you.” 

Your expression softened, and you were about to say something when your phone buzzed in your hand. Panic jolted through you for just a moment before you read what the texts said. 

just kidding lol. It turns out that Alicia got the flowers when she was picking up the drinks from there for the reception

crisis averted!! 

I’ll still cover your drinks though since I prob gave you a mini heart attack and Im very sorry about that 

“Huh,” you said, and you glanced back up at Rafe. “Looks like I was sent on a mission for flowers that weren’t even here.” 

“Elizabeth’s probably all over the place,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been kinda stressed out and I’m not even part of the wedding party. Bridal nerves have gotta be a lot worse.” But then Rafe paused and took his phone out of his pocket, and his brow creased. 

“What’s got you lookin’ like that?” you asked. 

“Huh,” he said. “Topper actually just had his pocket square in his… other pocket. So I guess I was here for nothing then, too.” 

A laugh bubbled out at that. “We’ve got some very organized friends today, huh?” 

“Seems so,” he agreed with a smile. “But I’m glad he misplaced it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Rafe nodded, and he shrugged. “I got to see you.” 

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks at an astronomical rate, and you had never been more thankful for your phone to buzz. 

But seriously you gotta finish getting ready we have like five minutes left before the organ starts playing 

liz if this was not your day i would be so mad at you

please. you can never be mad at me 

“I gotta go before I single handedly ruin this whole procession,” you joked, and you went past the entrance and Rafe. But just as you got a few steps away, you turned around and smiled. “I’m also glad that Liz sent me here.” 

Rafe chuckled, smiling inwardly as you hurried away. You didn’t know it, but his eyes didn’t leave you for a second. 

-

The wedding ceremony went fabulously. 

You got back in time and finished getting ready—for some reason, you felt a lot more confident in your appearance—and walked down the aisle arm in arm with a very lovely groomsman before taking your place at the front of the bridesmaid line. 

You cried. A lot. 

When you saw Liz walking down the aisle, when you looked up at Nate and saw the way he gazed at her with all the stars in his eyes, when her father gave her away, when they said their vows, when they kissed, when they walked off—you were a mess basically the entire time. Thank god for waterproof mascara. 

And then when you sat with the bridesmaids for the Liz and Nate's first dance and the parent dances, you cried again. And when Ayana gave her Maid of Honor speech and Topper gave his Best Man speech—you were like a waterfall. A complete mess, but a very happy one at that. 

But you managed to stop by the bathroom and fix yourself up in record time before you all went off to your normal seating charts, and god, you had never been more glad to have done so when you walked in and saw who was at your table. 

Liz either knew everything or nothing, because this... this was really something. 

“So we meet again,” Rafe said, another easy smile appearing as he turned to look at you. “Looks like this wedding is trying to make up for all the years we missed.” 

You chuckled and took your seat next to him. “Guess so. It’s not an easy feat, though.” 

“Six years was a long time,” he said. 

“Didn’t really help that my parents sold our house in the OBX after I graduated,” you said dryly. “I missed all those Rafe Cameron summers during college.” 

“‘Rafe Cameron summer’?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t realize there was a word for it.” 

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I graduated with an English minor. It allows me to make up phrases whenever I want.” 

“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “I guess my… finance concentration means I control the stock market?” 

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous. It obviously means you’re the head of the treasury. Keep up, Rafe.” 

“My bad.” He held up his hands with mock austerity. “Our time apart is the reason for such a ridiculous mistake.” 

You smiled, but it sobered a bit and you bit your lip. “On a serious note,” you said, “I’m… I’m really sorry.” 

Rafe frowned. “For what?” 

“For that time apart,” you said. “I came back to North Carolina more than a few times to visit Liz and some other friends, but I never came to see you. We were— we were good friends, Rafe, and I shouldn’t have just disappeared on you like that all because I was at a different college.” 

Somehow, his brow furrowed even deeper. “What? You can’t possibly be blaming yourself for this—people grow apart in distance. That… that just happened to us. I mean, you were in California and I was in Chapel Hill. That’s crazy distance.” 

“I still came back, though,” you said. “Just… never for you.” 

“...I didn’t expect you to,” Rafe said, looking right in your eyes. “No matter how much…” 

“What?” you asked after he trailed off. 

Rafe sighed, then shook his head, trying to clear his mind before he looked back at you. “Do you wanna dance?” 

“What?” you repeated, mostly because you couldn’t believe it. 

“Dance with me.” He stood up and offered a hand, passing a glance at the dance floor. All of the official dances had been done already so it was open to anybody, including you and your high school crush. 

“Okay,” you said with an almost breathless laugh, and you really felt like your freshman self again the way butterflies fluttered in your chest as you took his hand and walked over to an open spot. 

You and Rafe fell into an easy rhythm, like you’d been doing this all your lives, and it didn’t take too long for your conversation to follow. 

“So what did you get up to in all those years at SD State?” he asked. “All I really know about your college career is what I’ve gotten from Instagram and your parents’ Facebooks.” 

You laughed a bit. “Regular college stuff, I guess. I did track all four years and I won some awards, which was pretty cool. Went to a lot of parties, got drunk a lot, swore off drinking a lot, studied until I thought my eyes were going to fall out, then graduated with a chemistry degree. I’ve been working as a technician in a lab for the company I interned with for the past two years.” 

Rafe whistled. “‘Regular college stuff’, she says, as she describes an insane balancing act between student athlete life, partying, and schoolwork, and still being able to graduate with a STEM degree.” 

“You’re such a flatterer,” you admonished, but there was no real bite in your words. “That’s one thing that’s never changed.” 

“It’s easy to flatter a woman like you,” he said. “I mean, you’re out there changing the world. I feel like I’m not even worthy to stand in your presence.” 

You chuckled as Rafe spun you, and as your hands joined once again you offered a coy smile. 

“You know,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence with his words, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.” 

Rafe’s eyes widened slightly, but he covered it up with a well placed smile of his own. “Really?” he marveled, and he said your first and last name, “you had a crush on me?” 

“Yep,” you nodded. “And she had it bad. If freshman year me could see this, she would be losing her mind.” 

Rafe laughed, and it spurned butterflies in your chest yet again—they were the same kind you’d felt whenever you talked to him back then, trying to catch whatever moments you could between your busy schedule and his own responsibilities. You were too scared to admit your feelings, but you enjoyed spending time with him nonetheless. 

If there was one thing this was proving, though, it was that your feelings definitely weren’t as settled as you thought. 

“Well, you know,” he said thoughtfully, echoing your previous words as he brought you back to the present, “I had a pretty big crush on you in high school too.” 

That completely threw you off your rhythm. So much so that you stumbled, totally missing your next steps—if it weren’t for Rafe catching you, you would’ve face planted. 

“Are you good?” Rafe asked, concerned. 

“You had a crush on me?” you asked instead. 

He laughed again and ran a hand through his hair before you fell back into your rhythm together—he had let it grow out some, you realized, and it looked infinitely better all ruffled and mussed up than styled. 

“Yeah,” he said. His smile wasn’t as confident as it always was, a boyish charm mingling with unusual shyness. “It, uh— it kinda snuck up on me. I didn’t really know how big of a crush it was until I was at your signing ceremony. Like, right after you signed the contract was when I realized I had it bad.” 

“My signing ceremony?” you marveled, and you shook your head in disbelief. “You really have great timing, Rafe. Couldn’t have realized a couple years earlier when we were still in the same place?” 

Rafe laughed softly. “Yeah. I really do. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make it harder for you. I mean, I was staying in the OBX for Chapel Hill, and you were taking the opportunity of a lifetime to run track in San Diego. I wasn’t gonna take your mind off of that because some hometown guy had a crush on you.”

“Some hometown guy,” you repeated, and it was your turn to laugh. “You thought that little of yourself?” 

“It’s true,” he shrugged. “I was just a friend that fell for you. I mean,” he gave you a crooked smile, “not that it was hard to fall for you. Pretty sure I was one of ten guys who wanted to ask you to prom senior year.” 

“Okay, that is not true at all,” you said, but you were stumbling over yourself just as quickly. He wanted to ask you to prom senior year? When the one thing that you thought about whenever you looked at him that spring was dancing with him at prom? “Grant Millwood was the only one that asked me.”

Rafe nodded with a laugh. “That was because he threatened everyone that he knew had a crush on you to make sure he would get to go with you.”

“And then he ditched me halfway through the night because he got too drunk to function off the alcohol he smuggled in himself,” you said dryly. “Yeah, he was a great date.”

“High school was the best,” Rafe said with mock austerity, “wasn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “I miss the kook academy every single day.”

“I still can’t believe you wanted to ask me to prom senior year,” you said, shaking your head. “Rafe, how did I not even know? Why didn’t you do it?” 

“And let you miss your chance with Grant Millwood?” Rafe over exaggerated his scoff. “Please.” 

A laugh spilled out as a smile shone through. “You would’ve saved high school me a lot of angst if you told her you had a crush on her, y’know. Then I wouldn’t have had to spend four years pining in high school.” And four more in college, and two more postgrad. 

(God, you wish he had told you sooner. You would’ve blown all of your money on tickets to North Carolina if you had even the slightest inkling your eternal feelings weren’t eternally hopeless.) 

“Goes both ways,” he said, tacking on your last name. “Why didn’t you tell me how bad you had it?” 

“Because I thought that there was no chance in Hell that Rafe Cameron would ever share my feelings?” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Rafe—you know who you are, who you were. You say a couple guys wanted to ask me to prom—every girl wanted to date you. I didn’t stand a chance.” 

“And yet you did,” Rafe said with a slight chuckle. He shook his head. “Y’know, if I could turn back the clock, I would’ve done so many things differently.” Rafe smiled boyishly. “I would’ve mustered the nerve to ask you to prom before Grant even got the chance. And I definitely would’ve asked you out instead of liking you in private.” 

You smiled and shrugged. He liked you then when you thought there was no chance—why not now, when you also thought there was no chance? 

“Who says you have to turn back the clock?” 

Rafe’s own grin grew immediately, and he pulled you off to the side of the dance floor. He held your hands in his own, the cool metal of his signet ring at odds with the rough calluses on his palms brushing against your skin. 

He said your name with such earnesty you felt like you could melt, and when you gazed into his eyes, you nearly did. “I think you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in every single way. I can’t believe that it took me meeting you by chance at a wedding for me to do this, but I’d like to fix a mistake I made five years ago by never doing this. Can I take you on a date?” 

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, and it was a physical effort to contain the joy nearly bursting out of you, “I would love that more than anything.” 

He grinned. “Great.” 

And then he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for the best kiss of your life, one that you immediately fell into with all the vigor of six years spent longing. 

When he pulled away, leaving you completely breathless with widened eyes and bruised lips, his sultry whisper nearly took you out. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” 

You only had eyes for Rafe as you pulled him back into a heated kiss, pulling him by the cuffs of his baby blue suit. The only thing that got you away from him was the need for air.

"Me too," you murmured.

(And in the background, you were far too dazed to hear Liz’s victorious cheer.)

-

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator @louderfortheback 

obx tags: @milkiane @lilgoddesshines @sexytholland

rafe tags: @lurkymurker

[denjiholic]

love talk || gojo x reader NSFW

✎ request: suggestion: gojo breeding kink!

✎ warnings/tags: NSFW, explicit content, blowjobs, breeding kink, fingering, overstimulation, praise kink, porn watching, dom! gojo, teasing, voyeurism, light sub/dom, multiple orgasms, cockslapping

✎ pairing: gojo x fem reader

✎ summary: you and gojo watch a porno together and one thing leads to another :))

✎ word count: 2.2k

✎ a/n: sorry if some of you have seen me post this already, i was having a glitch with my tumblr the first time it uploaded, so i had to repost :)

“so what are we watching tonight?”

you look up to see gojo sitting lazily on the couch, one hand patting his empty lap. retiring to his nightly clothes, his chest is bare and his legs only clad in plaid pajama pants. you make your way to the sofa, taking a seat in his lap. he wastes no time wrapping his arms around you, letting out a contented sigh.

turning your head around slightly, you look at him skeptically, “what was that all about?”

he smiles.

“nothing, you just smell good.”

“well I did just shower.”

after you’ve turned back around to face the television he repeats his original question.

“what are we watching tonight?”

“surprise me.”

his eyes gleam with mischief. accepting your challenge, he replies, “alright then.”

he turns on the tv before pausing to say, “wait, close your eyes first.”

“why?”

“you said you wanted it to be a surprise, right? just trying to get the full effect.”

“whatever, weirdo”

shutting your eyes you wait impatiently. after a few moments, the sound of a woman loudly moaning greets your ears. lids snapping open, your eyes fly to the screen. the television displays a woman with a rather large chest, getting pounded by a muscular guy with an intricate tattoo sleeve.

gojo laughs from behind you, clearly amused at your reaction. turning around, you face him and see the smirk that adorns his face.

“what’s wrong? not surprised enough?”

“you’re such an ass”

glancing back at the screen you look again at the girl on the screen.

“are you not a fan of this type of film?”, he teases.

you sigh, “i’m not against it really, but i would like it if you picked something a little more tasteful. not just some 2 minute clip of some chesty girl getting her back blown out.”

“so picky”

after a few more searches he settles on a longer video. once he’s started it, he pulls you close to his chest, settling into the couch.

it starts as a standard porno, with very little yet messy foreplay, and the man taking sexual control over the woman. typical. nothing too exciting. yet for some reason, when watching such an explicit movie with gojo’s partially bare body pressed up behind you, heat slowly creeps up your neck. this was the first time you’d done something like this with him. you knew he obviously watched porn, he was a guy after all, but you’d never watched anything together. were you always this aware of the way his arms felt wrapped around you?

you shift your body, making him let out a small grunt.

“this getting you turned on?”, he whispers, careful to not talk over the audio.

“not really”

in all fairness, it wasn’t a lie. what was getting you turned on was him. not so much the movie. just his presence, and the fact that you are sitting in his lap, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

“no? we’ll have to do something about that then..”

he plants a soft kiss on the nape of your neck, and starts to let his hands wander. his fingers start to gently ghost the skin on your stomach from under your shirt. they’re cool in contrast to your warm skin. traveling higher until he’s gingerly caressing your chest, every movement is slow and meaningful, as if he’s feeling your body for the first time. a hand goes even further up your skin, while one goes back down to your abdomen.

the more he touches you, the harder it feels to breathe.

his fingers stroke your throat, not with the intent to squeeze harshly, but merely to just feel more of your skin. he tilts your chin back to rest on his shoulder, your head side by side with his own. by this time, you’re breathing heavier and having immense difficulty concentrating on the screen. his touch feels like euphoria, teasing almost every part of your body.

he’s obviously enjoying exploring you, as you can feel his erection against your ass. his fingers slowly slide further down your abdomen, making your breath hitch. he slowly slips a hand into your shorts.

instead of instantly going for your clit, he just keeps his palm near the waistband of your underwear. he effortlessly strokes your skin for a moment before finding his way to your sensitive spot. beginning to trace it softly, he forces a quiet moan to escape your lips, along with the catch of his breath from his own.

he slides a finger inside you, feeling your wetness on his skin. careful to tease you properly and take his time, he slips it in and out leisurely. once he’s got you breathing heavy, he pulls it out, and gently rubs on your clit once more with his dampened skin. your flesh feels unusually warm, every swipe of his fingers all over your body and pussy, sends your temperature rising. he wasn’t normally this gentle, and if he teases you anymore you might go insane.

“please.. go faster...”

“that’d be taking all the fun out of it then”

his low voice is close to your ear, and you can hear every breath he takes while he feels you up. just when it feels like you can’t take any more, he removes his hands from your shorts.

gojo shifts you from your previous spot in his lap, laying you down on your back. you lie supine on the couch for a moment, and he starts to spread your legs apart. he makes room for himself between your thighs, before one of his hands begins to tug at your waistband. it feels like your heart is about to hammer out of your chest as he slowly pulls down your shorts and damp underwear. he’s looking at you with kind and passionate eyes, a gaze that’s fully intent on seeing you fall apart to his touch.

you gasp when you feel his warm tongue meet your clit. he works it gently, licking up and down with mastery. instinctively, your hand grips a fistful of his white hair as the pleasure builds in your stomach and legs. when he begins to suck on your clit, you let out a whine. upon hearing your noise of satisfaction, he sucks harder, hoping to emit more content sounds out of you. you give in, moaning along with the woman on the tv. you’d been so caught up with gojo in between your legs, that you’d forgotten the porno was still playing.

to your surprise, you didn’t hate it.

hearing and watching the girl feel good alongside you, wasn’t totally awful. you’d watched your fair share of porn, and to be honest it didn’t do much for you, but something about him going down on you while something that vulgar played, made your sensations somehow feel stronger.

as you start to near climax, you gasp his name.

at this, he holds your hips down in place, making sure you feel your full pleasure. when you finally reach completion, he continues playing with your clit. upon being held down, you grip his hair tightly, your only support as you orgasm onto his tongue. as you pant and curse, he licks up your cum, sure to savor your taste and not leave anything left behind. after you’re finished, you feel soft kisses on your clit. he kisses his way up to your stomach, before moving up to leave small marks on your neck.

“gojo-”

“now I’m gonna need you to do something for me, pretty girl.”

you nod your head, your obedience making him smile.

he moves his body on top of yours so his torso hovers above your face. pulling his cock out of his boxers, he drags it across your lips.

“say ah”

opening your mouth, the first taste of his precum meets your tongue. he lets you take him into his mouth, holding his dick with one hand, and the television remote in the other. gojo turns up the volume before looking back down at you, your mouth full of cock. lips around his tip, you suck at him.

“that’s my good girl”

since you’re lying down, you allow him to gently thrust into your mouth. nothing too aggressive yet, but enough to make you want to gag on his length.

pushing further into your throat, he lovingly watches as the tears streak down the sides of your face. he gives you a reassuring smile, and wipes them away with his fingertips. perhaps to encourage you, he keeps muttering praise underneath his breath, constantly telling you how good of a job you’re doing for him.

he watches the tv from time to time, clearly enjoying watching the couple have sex while you blow him. no matter how much he looks at the screen, words of appreciation never fail to leave his lips.

“shit, just like that”

you swipe your tongue around his head and continue to take him in your mouth. he’s lost focus of the screen now, his body and mind taken over with the pleasure he's receiving. with a grunt, he finishes inside your mouth. he’s out of breath, but he looks satisfied.

once you’ve swallowed, he brings his lips to yours. his kiss is full of desire. desire for you, and desire to take your body and make it his. he plants kisses along your jaw and neck, and massages your chest from underneath your shirt.

“you’re really so beautiful, you know that?”, he whispers.

you hold his head close to yours, falling silent at the sudden compliment. he softly bites your neck before saying, “tonight, i plan on filling you up to the brim.”

“so no condom?”

he nods his head.

you smile, “what are you waiting for? fuck me and fill me up then”

he grins and kisses your forehead.

you squirm when he slides himself inside you, as he says softly, “i want to keep cumming inside you until I can’t feel anything anymore”

starting out slow, he begins thrusting his hips, moving in and out of your entrance. his sturdy body is on top of you, white hair falling in his face. he’s fucking you in missionary, something you’d usually chaste as being far too vanilla, but right now, seeing him above you seems to make the moment more intimate.

he occasionally kisses and bites at your neck, while you wrap your arms around his own. you pull at his hair while he fucks you, begging for him to keep going. You can feel the shake of your thighs as his hips dive in between your legs.

“gonna-” he mumbles, “fuck a baby in you”

you answer him with a plea, unable to form a sentence as he keeps bucking into your tight hole. feeling yourself grip around his length, your orgasm sends warmth and pleasure through your body, making you moan for him.

when he cums, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard. you can hear him let out curses as he’s overcome with his climax.

“Oh god, fuck”, he moans.

his mouth meets yours in a sloppy kiss, and he groans into your lips.

instead of stopping after one round, he continues to thrust into you, aiming to stay true to his statement of fucking you until you’re completely stuffed full of his seed. he pursues, making you orgasm repeatedly until you’re on the verge of tears.

“please cum inside me again... i need it so bad”

eyes shut and panting, he sends ropes of white into you once more, his body shaking slightly. he was clearly overstimulated, as were you, but he continues thrusting into your wet heat relentlessly. the tv audio is dull in comparison to the sounds of pleasure coming from the both of you, and the sound of his cock shoving into your leaking pussy over and over.

“feels.. so good”, he chokes out.

you watch him as he reaches completion once again, his expression one of lewdness and pure bliss. he lets out small gasps and groans as he comes inside you for the third time. his face glistens with sweat and his chest heaves.

exhausted, he slumps on top of you, trying to catch his breath. you play with his hair with your fingers, keeping his head next to your own.

he kisses your cheek whispering, “can we just stay like this for a while?”

nodding your head, you pull him closer, aware he’s still sheathed inside you. the movie was long over, and for a while you lay with him on your chest, feeling the rise and fall of his own. after a bit, he grows soft and slips out. he gets up to look down at your hole, watching the cum leaking from your entrance.

“as hot as that is, i think you might need to take another shower”

“wanna join me?”, you ask with a smile.

“fuck, don’t tempt me”

grinning, he asks, “was the movie tasteful enough for you?”

“i could barely pay attention”

“what a shame, i guess we’ll have to watch another one sometime”

“only if i get to pick it out”

he smiles, “it’s a deal”

[just-a-creep-babe]

Can I request a puppy s/o doing blowjobs for the trip proxies while having a toy stuffed in her and having the proxies doing some dirty talk? Idk that makes me hot thinking about it-

Yummy yummy YuMMy yUMMY 😋😋💦

Requests are closed

Masterlist: x

You squirm and fidget beneath their imposing gazes

They’re hungry

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out as much

And, despite the amount of times they’ve seen you like this—naked and on your knees between the three of them, the dark, eager glint in their eyes almost has you feeling bashful

Almost

Hell, if it wasn’t for the vibrator stuffed between your legs, you’d probably be nervous right now

But the constant buzzing right against your clit has any traces of anxiety melting directly into need

“Look at our eager little fuck puppy~” Hoodie croons, “So happy to be on your knees for us, aren’t you? You gonna serve us with your mouth, little whore?”

You nod eagerly, sticking your tongue out in that way they’ve taught you to do

And you know you must look stupid like this, so desperate and depraved for them, but you want them so badly that you honestly don’t even care

Toby doesn’t hesitate to push his fingers down onto your tongue, checking your gag reflex while gathering up your saliva between his two digits

You whimper, but manage to stop yourself from gagging as he coos encouraging praises

“There we go, j-just like—just like that, baby~ Gonna swallow our—swallow our dicks down, hm? Gonna s-suck us all off?”

Before you can even answer, you’re yanked back by your hair and suddenly faced with Masky’s cock

“Fucking take it then,” he huffs

He runs the tip along your lips, which you gladly let part in order to take him into your mouth

He groans, cussing, the hand at the back of your skull pushing so that you’re forced to take him in deeper

Not that you’re complaining

“That’s right,” he hums, “be a good little bitch and suck me off, nice and clean, just like that”

You hollow out your cheeks and swirl your tongue around him, acutely aware of the other two eyeing you intently as you work

Masky tugs at your hair, using it as leverage to grind into your throat, practically using your mouth like a personal fleshlight

You let him use you to his content, your own sex throbbing eagerly with every push of his hips

You’re getting lost in the feeling of having your throat fucked so thoroughly, drool threatening to from your parted lips and tears blurring your vision, when the vibrator suddenly lowers in intensity

You squeeze your thighs together and whimper in response

You need more

You’re so fucking horny

Another set of fingers lace themselves into your hair, tugging at the soft strands

“Mmh, s-so good at sucking—at sucking dick, aren’t you?”

You whine again, and Masky twitches in your mouth at the feeling

“T-touch me. Touch me and I’ll turn the s-settings back up again”

You don’t need to be told twice to bring your hand up to Toby’s member

He twitches impatiently in your hold, and as you start pumping at his length, the toy immediately kicks up in intensity again

“Mn-mmnf!”

You gasp is muffled around the dick in your mouth, and Masky cusses, his fingers digging into your scalp almost painfully

“Don’t you know better than to talk with your mouth full, puppy?” Hoodie interjects, snickering

He doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath before lovingly smacking his cock against your cheek, smearing precum across your face as he does so

You’re about to reach up to stroke him too, but Masky bucks into your throat, and you’re force to use your free hand to steady yourself against his thighs instead

“Slut,” he sneers

You whimper, choking on him, more tears blurring your vision

Toby flicks at the settings of the vibrator again, and the shift in intensity has you shuddering with a wave of pleasure

“Good, dumb little puppy~” Hoodie coos

Your grip around Toby falters as Masky thrusts himself harder down your throat, and it has you gagging around him again

With a tsk, he pulls out

Fear and anticipation dance up your spine

You know you’re in trouble for gagging so much, but the prospect of a punishment excites you even more

“Didn’t we fucking teach you to suck dick better than that, slut?”

He twirls your hair into a ponytail around his fist and yanks it again

You cry out, back arching, suddenly caught between pleasure and pain as you’re roughly shoved onto Hoodie, who chuckles

“She needs to learn how to take a proper fucking face pounding,” Masky snarls

Hoodie grins down at you, giving a few smacks to your cheek

“You heard him, stupid. Open wide~”

Without hesitation, you part your lips and let him push his shaft all the way into your mouth

He hits the back of your throat and you flinch, trying to relax the muscles threatening to constrict around him

Still keeping his hand at the back of your head, Masky pushes you down, forcing you to use your throat and only your throat to jerk Hoodie off

“God—fuck. That’s a good little cumslut~”

Try as you might to breathe through your nose and relax your throat, you can’t seem to fight your body’s instincts

You gag again, but when your try to pull away for air, Masky keeps forcing you down and Hoodie doesn’t stop grinding into you

“Mmn—mnf!”

You make some pathetic sounds in protest, but they don’t relent

Toby pumps up the settings again, and your whole body seizes at the feeling

You can’t keep up

Tears spill freely down your face as they use you up like a toy between the three of them

You’re overwhelmed, and at the pace they’re going, you don’t know how much longer you’ll last

“God, s-so fucking cute when you—when you cry~” Toby groans

He jerks himself off in front of you while you’re still choking around Hoodie’s cock

It’s all too much

Your hips buckle, another pathetic moan muffled around Hoodie

And then you don’t if it’s their filthy praises, or the way Hoodie’s cock slots itself so perfectly down your throat while Masky’s fingers dig into your scalp, or just how Toby keeps playing with the settings on your vibrator

But it’s like a coil in you snaps and your whole body lurches with a rush of adrenaline

Everything blurs into a mess of pleasure

Your muffled whines and desperate moans have Hoodie groaning as you cum

“God, fuck that feels good!”

You’re shoved harder against him, forced to keep sucking him off until the warmth of his cum shoots down your throat

He cusses while giving a few deep thrusts into you, cock pulsing as he savors the tightness of your throat around him

You feel lightheaded

But you’re far from done as Toby’s voice snaps you back to attention

“Quit—quit fucking hogging her!” he urges

You’re shoved off of Hoodie so Toby can immediately cram himself between your lips, where a few thrusts is all it takes to have him cuming too

Your eyes widen, mouth suddenly way too full—to the point where you can’t hold it all in

It dribbles past the edges of your lips and down onto your chest in a warm, sticky mess

The sight of it, so shamelessly filthy, is enough to bring Masky to the edge as well

He roughly pulls your hair, forcing you close enough to let him cum onto your face

Thick ropes of his seed cover your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose, narrowly missing your eyelashes

You’re shaking and panting, body slick with sweat and cum by the time they’ve finished using you

You’re so drugged up on your post-orgasm bliss that you almost fail to notice Hoodie take his phone out to snap a pic of you

Had you any more strength left within you, you might’ve gotten upset

But you’re honestly too exhausted to care

Besides, you know fully well by now that it’s no use

You’re all theirs anyways, to do whatever they so please 

Their good, obedient little fuck puppy~

[oknowkiss]

friday flash recs: april 29, 2022

hiya lovely people! this week, we are putting on our brave hobbit faces and adventuring into the world of NON-DRARRY HARRY & DRACO pairings. today’s list focuses on m/m pairings, with future lists in the works for het and wlw fics. relatedly! if you have any recs--bc i know there’s loads of amazing non-drarry pairings i have barely scratched the surface of--pls feel free to leave them a comment! (i’m especially interested if you have a nottpott, harry/neville, harry/luna, and really any wlw rec to share!) 

> apprehending the auror || @dumbledoodlewriting​​ || nottpott || M / 3.8K alaric hardwood is Nott who he seems. you know how they say never meet your heroes? usually it’s because they’ll disappoint you, but this fic dares to ask: what if it’s because you might end up fucking them? full disclosure that dumble is a dear friend of mine, but even if she wasn’t, i’d be obsessed with this version of theo & romance-devouring badass harry. (as proof of statement: you’ll see alaric easter eggs in some of my own fics!)

> charlie & harry, sittin’ in a tree || elle_gray || charlie/harry || E / 10.7K this was my intro to charry. and like, what an intro. charlie & harry are stuck in a storm and, well, what better time to figure things out about yourself (tm). the interplay of hesitancy and desire feels so real here, there’s so much “i shouldn’t but i’m gonna” ust and i, for one, hope it never stops raining on these boys.

> good intent || @maesterchill​ || jeddy & teddy/harry || E / 11.9K another pairing intro fic for me! i devoured this, lying in bed the morning it posted, growing increasingly desperate for caffeine but unable to stop reading for even a second to put the kettle on. i think... i am a jeddy stan now??? this is sex mentor trope, it’s body acceptance, it’s discovery... and teddy’s b-plot with harry is so real and complex and layered in just perfectly to complement the overall plot. this is a little bit of a cheat, because it’s also background drarry, but this is my blog and i say it’s okay. thanks, me.

> keep swinging your bat my way || @veelawings​ || dron || E / 670 i think i’ve read this ten or fifteen times now. i mean, for starters it’s quidditch locker room sex. i could stop this rec right there; you’ve probably already clicked into it. but i will continue, because this ron deserves a six-volume essay. he’s so tactile and hot. and did i mention breeding kink?? yeah, there’s breeding kink. do we all just agree that ron has a great dick and is really good at sex?? it’s okay if you don’t, freedom of opinion is highly encouraged here on oscar isaac’s internet, but if you’re in any way ron “life-changing dick” weasley-curious, read this and then let’s talk.  > seldom used, to date || @vdoshu​ || tomarry || E / 3K (mind the tags) i’m in trouble dot gif. look. if you’re going to use the “murder husbands” AND “harry is a little shit” tags on the same fic??? i’m going to read it immediately, and then read it again, and then go back and read the rest of the series until 2 AM and wake up late for work the next day. i’ve been tomarry curious for a while now, and this series is a great introduction. a canon-divergent no 1st war au where tom is the minister for magic & harry is his bratty little boyfriend. there’s worldbuilding, there’s snark, there’s ritual knives and runes and blood magic. i can’t wait to see where it goes next.  

> theft of assets, destruction of property || helenish || dreville || E / 23K this is the best neville characterization i’ve ever read. full stop. forced marriage, auror trainees, with background harry/ron/hermione triad. draco processes his life through cooking. this neville is so interesting, so strong and yet tender, and the way him and draco open up to each other over time is beautiful and complex and it feels like a dream we get to experience it as readers.

& the currently reading can-you-tell-i’m-in-a-dron-and-charlie-weasley-phase (pause to inhale) certainly-more-shouting-to-come-once-i’ve-finished list:

> a soft spot for lost causes || helenish || dron || remedying my lapse of not having read helenish’s other published HP work. so far it is, as expected, perfect.

> charlie weasley’s fuck autobiography || @lqtraintracks​​ || charlie + all combos of harry, draco, teddy, etc || i too think that everyone should fuck charlie weasley and i can’t believe i get to read about it. a blessed day.

> dreaming skies || @sweet-s0rr0w @tackytigerfic​ || dron || i’ve read half of this thus far and have, multiple times, had to stop and stare at the wall and just... admire. the “i didn’t come here for your charity” exchange? pingponging in my brain for days, folks.

> licurici || @lou-isfake​​ || charry, drarlie, drarrlie triad || i started reading this while waiting to board a plane, downloaded it to read on the plane, and then had to stop because it kept sending me on face journeys. now that i’m back home i’ve picked it up again and oh, my heart. more to come for sure.  < last time: murder me harry (my fave harry characterizations)

[arvinsescape]

Hey could you please write something with reader's ex leaking some private pictures you two took when you were together just because he's jealous of you and tom, so when tom hears about what happened he is so upset that someone could be this low, he's not even jealous, he is just so mad that he could cry

A/N: Thank you for sending this in, I hope you enjoy! 💕

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, leaking of nudes (this is never okay, I do not condone this behaviour), talks of bad relationships, mentions of stalking (do not read if you are uncomfortable).

You and Tom had been together for just over a year and a half, it had been amazing, you absolutely adored each other and everyone could see it. There was only one negative in your relationship and that came with your ex.

He was an incredibly jealous human being, awful in every way. You broke things off with him after two years of putting up with his behaviour. You'd not been allowed to have male friends, the relationship you had with the men Tom lived with was strange for you at first, at every turn you expected Tom to get angry about how close you were getting. It never happened, Tom adored the relationship you had with the boys and it was quick to reassure you of that fact when you opened up to him about it.

Unfortunately, although he claimed he wasn't in love with you, he couldn't let you go. He was so jealous when he found out you'd moved on that he started stalking your social medias, leaving comments on your posts which led to you blocking him. Of course, this didn't work, he made new accounts in order to find out what you were doing, leaving nasty comments on posts you made to a point where you simply stopped posting as often.

He was tiring and for a while you worried he'd find you, approach you but he never did. You'd been on edge for a short time after making your relationship with Tom public due to the comments he'd leave on your posts. You wondered whether or not he'd ever get over it, let you go but he seemingly wasn't going to anytime soon. It was tiresome, truly but you'd learned to live with it, you continued to block the accounts he made, Tom personally emailing the social media companies in hopes they could put a stop to him but to no avail.

You travelled with Tom a lot, most of the time unless you had family commitments that kept you homebound. This was due to your job and the way it worked, you never needed to be in an office and you could work from anywhere in the world. Book editing meant you had freedom. It made you feel safe, knowing Tom was never far away and when he was filming you could spend time with one of the boys and it brought a huge comfort to you.

You were back in London, in Tom's shared house after a long stretch in the states, you were happy to be back home, have your home comforts. You had been in and out of sleep for the past hour, your phone buzzing like crazy which had resulted in you turning it off, not ready to face whatever it was so early in the morning. That was all well and good until Tom's phone started half an hour later.

"Tom." You lightly shook him in his sleep and he mumbled incoherently in response. "Tom?" You tried harder.

"Y/N, go back to sleep." He grumbled as he pulled you into his chest as his phone started again. You pushed against his chest and his eyes snapped open.

"Tom your phone." You stated and Tom groaned before rolling over and mindlessly fishing for the device, turning it off as well. "It might be important." You said and he rolled back over to pull you into him.

"I'll deal with it later, it's my week off, it can wait." He mumbled into your neck as he sighed out. It didn't take him long to find sleep again as he held you against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you and making you drift into your own sleep.

You're not sure how long you'd been back asleep before you heard banging on your bedroom door. Tom groaning as he squeezed your body and ignored the knocks, hoping whichever boy it was would go away.

"Tom." Harrison's voice pulled you both from your sleepy state. He sounded worried, not his usual calm and chilled out self as he banged on the door again. "You need to get up." He said frantically.

"Fuck off Harrison, I'm tired." Tom shouted back as you sat up and ran a hand over your face. Tom protesting as you sat against the headboard trying to come to. "Darling, come back." He begged, almost childishly, you were about to respond when Harrison piped up again.

"Tom, mate seriously. Get up, it's important." He tried and Tom groaned again before sitting up next to you. "Right, I'm coming in." Haz shouted before opening your bedroom door, phone in hand and face paler than usual.

"Haz what is so important that we need to get up at," Tom started as he checked his watch. "7:30 in the morning."

"You need to check your phones." He said as he threw his phone in your direction. With furrowed brows you picked it up. "I'm so sorry Y/N/N." He said and Tom was quick to grab his phone, turning it on.

"What do you mean? Haz it's early and I've not woken up yet, what's going on?" Tom asked as you scrolled Haz's phone, quiet as a mouse, face dropping. You flicked though the series of pictures that had made their way to twitter, complete and utter disbelief hitting you.

"Her ex." Harrison said as Tom's phone finished booting up, numerous missed calls from his publicist and twitter notifying him that he was trending. "Y/N/N, are you okay?" Harrison asked as he took in your figure.

"How long have these been up?" You asked, eyes not leaving his phone.

"I don't know they were posted overnight." Harrison sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Numerous pictures of yourself from a couple of years ago staring back at you. Pictures with your ex in very compromising positions mocking you as you looked at them.

You nodded slowly as you swallowed down your emotions, you lifted a shaky hand to run through your hair. The internet had practically seen you for what you were, seen things that were meant for a significant other. Pictures of yourself you'd sent to your ex before things got bad between the two of you.

"Fucking piece of shit." Tom whispered as he himself saw what Harrison had been talking about. You felt like crying, the lump in your throat felt heavy as you tried to swallow it down, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the pictures.

"Sweetheart," Tom started as he took Harrison's phone from your hand and handed it back to his friend. Harrison took it and quickly made his way from your room, he knew you were seconds away from breaking down and you needed your privacy.

"I thought he'd deleted them." You whispered to more yourself than anyone else. "I sent those at the beginning of our relationship, fucking idiot." You said to yourself and Tom pulled you into him as your tears fell, silently crying.

"You're not an idiot. This is on him, not you. I'm so sorry." Tom said as he held you. "He had no right to do that."

"Is he ever going to leave me alone?" You cried and Tom's heart shattered there and then in his chest. This man had been a tormenter for years, too long and he had been cause for your tears numerous times over your relationship.

"He is. I swear to god this is the last time." Tom promised as he held you tight against him. His phone rang yet again and he huffed out in annoyance as he lifted an arm, reaching for his phone. "Hey, I'll call you back." Tom said into the phone, you didn't hear the response. "No, this is more important, I'll talk to you later." Tom snapped before hanging up the phone and throwing it to one side.

You became a sobbing mess, the world having seen parts of yourself you never wanted them to. You wanted to disappear off the face of earth, how were you supposed to go out in public after this? How were you supposed to face the people you knew? Your mind was racing, thoughts embedding themselves as you thought more about what would happen. You only cried harder as you thought about it.

Tom comforted you through your breakdown, reassuring you that it was going to be okay. He was in complete shock, how could someone do this? He wanted to cry as he held you, his heart was broken for the woman in his arms. He listened as you eventually calmed down, breathing steadying as you pulled away from his chest and wiped your face.

"I'm gonna do something about this, I promise." Tom comforted and he watched as a defeated look spread across your face.

"What does it matter? The world has seen them now." You smiled sadly, realising there was nothing you could do. He'd taken things to a knew level, one you would never hear the end of. "It's my own fault, I never should have sent them." You bit your lip as you tried to hold back more tears.

"No baby, don't do that. Don't blame yourself, it's not your fault." He said as he sat across from you, taking your hands into his own. You couldn't look him in the eye, what if he hated you for this? This was something people could use against him now, what if he was disgusted you ever sent them to him.

"Stop it." Tom said softly, he could see you reeling, see your thoughts consuming you. He always knew, he said you had this look on your face and in your eyes, he knew you like the back of his hand. "Don't, I know what you're thinking and this isn't your fault."

"Look at me," Tom encouraged as he took your chin in his hand and forced your gaze into his own. "I promise this is going to be okay." He comforted and the look in his eyes was so comforting, so safe. No judgement, nothing hiding behind them, he was heart broken for you, you could see that in the tears that were slightly welling in his eyes.

It wasn't that you were against sending pictures to your partner, you and Tom had sent your fair share to each other. But you had learned a valuable lesson, you'd deleted every picture between you and your ex because that was the right thing to do, right? But he hadn't, he'd kept them and it made you uncomfortable as to why? Why would he want to keep those pictures? Why would he release them for the world to see?

"One minute." Tom said as he got off the bed and made his way into the en suite. You heard running water and you knew he was running you a bath, the evidence in the smell of flowers filling the room as he added your favourite bubble bath. He reappeared after a while.

"Come on. I've got some calls to make so you have a bath." He said as he held his hand out for you. Your heart warmed but you sighed as you took his hand and stood up.

"This isn't your mess to clean up Tom, it's mine." You mumbled and Tom shook his head as he tugged you slightly into the bathroom.

"If it affects you, it affects me. I'm gonna do everything I can to protect you. I love you okay? This isn't your fault and I'm gonna put an end to his shit, I've had enough. I'm gonna do something about him." Tom said and you smiled sadly.

"Thank you." You said and Tom smiled as he gestured for you to get into the bath.

"I'll be back in a while. I'm gonna talk to my legal team, see what I can do. You just try and relax and I want you to promise me that you'll stay off social media today." He said and you nodded as he smiled in comfort at you, kissing your forehead as he left the bathroom and made his way downstairs, grabbing his phone and putting some sweats on as he did.

"How is she?" Harrison asked, almost as soon as Tom entered the living room. Tom sighed as he turned to his best friend.

"She's upset. Blames herself for ever sending them." He said and Haz furrowed his brows.

"This is that twats fault. I swear if I ever see him again I'm gonna punch the smug look he always has right off his fucking face." Haz said.

"You'll have to get in line. I could kill him for what he's done." Tom said, he was so upset that you'd been put through this. "I want to fucking cry for her Haz, she's devastated." Tom continued as Tuwaine made his way into the room.

"That man is a fucking dick." He ranted straight away, Harry agreeing as he made his way in. "I can't believe the shit he's pulled." He continued.

"He's was so open about it, posting them onto his personal twitter account." Harry said in disbelief.

"I'm hoping that was his biggest mistake, what I can get him for." Tom said as he scrolled his contacts, pulling up the head of his legal team.

"What's the reaction online?" Haz asked carefully and Tuwaine shook his head.

"Half and half, some people are defending her, some are mocking her, others judging. It's a mess, people wanna know how Tom feels about it, some Y/N. I don't know, I tried not to look too much." Tuwaine sighed and Haz gave a tight nod as he grabbed his phone and vigorously started to type.

Tom left the room as he held the phone to his ear, on the phone with his legal team. Disappearing to talk in private. Harrison finally finished his typing as Tuwiane and Harry's phone pinged, Harrison's tweets coming to their attention.

There are no words for what has happened to my two best friends. What this man has done is disgusting and in no way Y/N's fault, please stop circulating the pictures. They were posted without her consent and she is hurting enough without people mocking her. Leave her alone, leave Tom alone. You will hear from them when they are ready.

Harry and Tuwaine retweeting the tweets before adding their own in support of you. You were close to them all, they were like your brother's.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. This is just awful, I can't believe this has happened." Tuwaine said and watched as you appeared in the living room, you had your pyjama pants on, one of Tom's hoodies consuming your upper half as you looked sheepishly around the room.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry this has happened." Tuwaine said as he pulled you into his chest, squeezing you in comfort. "It's okay, we're gonna get you through this." He promised and your heart warmed as you hugged him back.

There was a part of you that wondered how much the boys had seen, it made you feel strange around them. What if they'd seen the pictures of your intimate parts?

"I didn't look." Tuwaine said, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "I saw enough to know when to stop scrolling, enough to know what had happened." He reassured as the boys voiced the same.

"Okay, he's gonna do some digging, see how far he can take it. See what he can get him done for." Tom said as he reappeared, you instantly leaving Tuwaine's arms for your boyfriends.

"Is it looking promising? That we can press charges of some sort against him?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, he's just said he'll see if he can take more action. He's already contacted twitter and they're trying to put a stop to the sharing of the pictures. The rest of the sites the same." Tom said as he squeezed you tightly, chin resting on top of your head.

Tom's phone rang again and he pulled it from his pocket, sighing as he watched his publicists name flash across his screen. This was the phone call he was dreading because his PR team didn't give a fuck how you looked, it was all about Tom. This wasn't about him.

"Hello?" Tom said as he answered, he couldn't ignore them forever.

"Tom! Finally!" He heard the shrill screech of her voice and he grimaced as he did. He moved you both to sit on the couch, sitting you on his lap as he cuddled you. "Have you seen the internet?"

"Yeah." Tom said, almost annoyed.

"Y/N needs to put out a statement." She said and Tom huffed, anger building in him.

"Y/N doesn't need to do anything. She will address this if and when she is ready." Tom snapped.

"Tom this will make it look bad for you if neither of you address it. Some people are speculating she's cheated." She replied and your stomach dropped as you overheard her. Tom shifted you onto the couch as he got up, placing a kiss to your lips as he disappeared again. You didn't need to hear any of this.

"I don't give a shit to be honest. She hasn't cheated, these photos where posted without her consent. This isn't about me, this is about her." Tom snapped.

"But Tom, you are Spiderman, your girlfriends nudes have been leaked, pictures of her with another man have leaked." She snapped back and Tom's anger hit breaking point.

"I don't care. I just told you that. I'm not going to force her to do a thing she doesn't want. I don't care that I am Spiderman, what happened to her is wrong and I'm gonna stand by her."

"About that." She said Tom's heart dropped.

"What?"

"We think it might be best if you distanced yourself from her. Make it look like a slight break." His publicist said and Tom's anger hit the roof at the suggestion. His publicist had never been fond of your relationship, they wanted him to date other celebrities, he'd fought them for ages on this front.

"Not happening. This is devastating for her, you really think I'm gonna abandon her? You know what? If anyone thinks negatively about me or her, that's on them because what has happened to her is wrong. How do you think that will look? I can just see the headlines. Tom Holland leaves girlfriend after nudes where leaked without her consent. What sort of a message does that send to people? Did you think about that? Or is this just you taking another opportunity to try and get me seen with someone you approve of?" Tom screamed, the house heard.

"I, I suppose I hadn't thought about that." She stumbled out quietly. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself.

"I don't want to hear anything more about this. I'm going to deal with this my way. This isn't about me, this about her and sticking by her, which I am going to do. Whatever you might say. The fact that you hadn't thought about what I've just said makes clear to me that I can't trust you with this one and maybe I should be looking for someone I can." Tom snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you be. We'll try and do what we can here." She said and Tom didn't even feel guilty for blowing out on his publicist, the team could be the biggest wankers he'd ever met anyway.

"Tom, you'll get in trouble." You said as he made his way back into the room. He sat down next to you, pulling you into his side as he kissed your head.

"I don't care. This isn't about me, they need to realise that." Tom spoke into your hair. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he typed away, minutes later and everyone's phone had pinged, Tom had posted to Instagram. It was a picture of the two of you, one taken over winter in by the fire.

I'm sure many of you have seen what has happened. I'm devastated someone would do this, these pictures were posted without her consent. This man kept these pictures for over two years and then posted them. I ask that you stop judging and just think for a second how this would make you feel, if it was you in this position. She trusted him enough to send those images and he broke that trust, it's so wrong.

I ask that you stop posting the pictures, they are not yours or mine to post. There is no cheating involved, this man has caused enough distress for Y/N and I will not let it continue. I want you to support her and send love, it's what she deserves. She's my best friend and my lover, I stand by her 100% on this, I will not tolerate any abuse sent her way.

Please understand that she is not ready to address this and if she never is that's okay. She doesn't have to, this isn't her fault and she has nothing to apologise for. I love her and I hope to see your continued support of her, much love Tom x

He switched his phone off as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more than to make this go away for you, he wanted to hide you from the world, keep you safe. He had to swallow his tears again, heart aching from what this man has done to you, he couldn't stop himself pulling you tighter against him as he tried to keep his tears at bay..

"It's gonna be okay, I promise. I love you." He said into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself to straddle him. You pulled each other impossibly closer and the boys smiled at the interaction, no matter what was going on the world, the two had each other. They had each other's backs and it was heart warming to see, to know they had all the support they would ever need in each other.

[infernalrevenge]

Hello Hello 👋🏻

I would like to request (NSFW) the Dimitrescu Daughters getting dominated by Reader with a strap.

Just for Fun

Bela = Bed

Cassandra = Wall

Daniela = Sink

(But of course only if you‘re comfortable with it 🙈)

HELL YEAH ANON, I am more than happy to do this!

I'm guessing you want drabbles? I did all the sisters (hehehe) in this post, under the cut. (Also I'm sorry this took a while, I actually misunderstood the prompt and had to redo it though I had already finished the first two HAHAHA)

Reader shall be gender neutral, though they make use of a strap.

(NSFT text under the cut, 18+)

----------

Bela Dimitrescu

You pulled and pressed down on the last of the velcro for adjustment, looking down at the new toy attached between your legs. A pleased smile curled over your lips as you looked on at your girlfriend, who seemed... a little less enthusiastic.

"Is something wrong, love?" you asked in concern.

She looked down at the crumpled sheets, a sign of your earlier activities to prepare. "Just a little... nervous, I suppose."

You frowned slightly, not wanting her to worry. This was supposed to be fun for the two of you, after all. First times did tend to bring nerves though, no matter who you would do it with.

"I'll go slow, I promise. And if you want to stop, you can tell me," you assured her, cupping her cheek. Bela let out a shaky breath, but she nodded, seeming more sure this time.

She laid back down on the bed, her golden hair splayed around her like a halo as you spread her legs apart. Watching the way you licked your lips, that hunger in your eyes when your gaze locked onto hers -- it helped ease her worries somewhat. You only looked away for a moment to see where you were aiming, and once you started to move, you flicked back to her.

It felt much thicker than when she only had your fingers inside her, but it filled her so wonderfully at the same time. Her head pressed against the pillow, eyes closed as she savored the feeling of having you deep inside. She turned slightly to press a kiss to your palm, still on her cheek, and you took it as a good sign.

"You're doing wonderful, Bela. Such a good girl," you whispered. Every move drew a gasp from her lips, breath hitching slightly when she felt you speed up. All the while, you sung praises of how good she felt, how beautiful she looked laid out like this.

Your hands roamed over her bare chest, to her waist, then her hips, pulling her in to meet every thrust. She gripped the sheets underneath, nearly overwhelmed by the sensations before deciding it wasn't enough. She reached up for you without thinking, pulling you down just to feel your flushed body against hers. You responded in kind with kisses and suckles onto her neck, keeping a steady pace.

When she wrapped her legs around your waist, you couldn't help but smile. "Faster?" you asked. She could only nod to reply, words lost in a haze.

Her groans echoed in the chamber, mixing with the slapping of skin as she started to gush around you. All she could moan out was your name, and it was a hell of a drug to keep you going.

Everything making her tingle was building up in her core, toes curling and muscles tensing with her mind filled with want for you and only you. Until finally, finally -- her thighs pressed against your sides to keep you still as she was rocked with pleasure, shaking from the waves of an orgasm. She seemed almost dazed when you pulled back and saw her face, prompting a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll take it this means we can do this again some time?" you teased, just about to slip out before she crossed her legs over your waist once more.

"Again," was all she said, looking up at you pleadingly.

You weren't about to say no.

----------

Cassandra Dimitrescu

"You always carry that with you then?" the brunette said with a laugh, running her hand over the length of the strap on.

"Just in case. Knowing you, you could hardly wait 'til we get to a bed," you replied, leading her against a wall. She had essentially seduced you away from your work to a secluded room in the castle, where hopefully no one would disturb you.

Cassandra planted her hands in front of her, looking over her shoulder to see you rubbing the length of the toy between her ass. She bit down on her bottom lip, pushing her hips back impatiently.

"Ah-ah-ah, what's the magic word?" you chided, a mischievous smirk curling on your lips.

She only growled in response, but you stood firm as the hand on her hip kept her still. You traced its tip along her wet folds, making her stiffen and shiver in anticipation. You weren't going to just let her have this, not after the trouble you might wind up in for letting her whisk you away in the first place. She was going to earn it.

"Well?"

A soft hum passed as if she thought it over, glaring up at you.

"Put it inside me now... please." She had whispered the last word, but you supposed that should do for now. You couldn't wait too long either.

You eagerly pushed into her, watching her mouth drop open at the sudden intrusion -- one that was entirely welcome. She clawed onto the wallpaper, digging her nails with every thrust that resulted in that beautiful friction. Your hips rolled into hers, searching for that spot that would have her seeing stars, and you knew you found it from the way she arched her back and moaned out your name. By Mother Miranda, you wanted to hear it again.

Cassandra could feel her legs cramping from under her, but the pain only melded with the pleasure of being pounded into. You pulled her face toward you and sealed her lips with yours, swallowing the sounds spilling out of her as you kept up a punishing pace. The heat inside her was ready to burst, chasing the feeling with every rock of her hips to meet yours. When you broke off to catch a breath and locked eyes with her, your gaze dark with lust -- it was enough to push her over the edge.

She gushed around you, resting her cheek on the cold wall and shaking as you rode her through her orgasm. But you wouldn't slow down, catching her by surprise when you reached down between her legs.

"Might as well... make the most of this... right?" you panted, seeing her golden eyes roll back and jaw go slack, getting lost in the overload of sensation. Your other arm wrapped around her torso, chest pressed against her back as you leaned into every thrust.

She was still so sensitive from her first orgasm that a second one wasn't too far behind. Her clit throbbed under your fingers as you rubbed circles and she was unable to help herself from grinding into it, ragged shocks of pleasure running through her. Goosebumps littered her skin before she burst once again and cried out your name, head lolling back onto your shoulder as you pressed deep inside her.

You gently caressed her legs as she started to come down from the high, hearing her whimper as you slipped out. Your fingers traced along her quivering inner thigh, collecting some of her slick before bringing them up to your lips for a taste. She barely managed to catch the erotic sight as she turned her body towards yours.

"Want me to help you clean up?" you whispered, resting your forehead on hers.

She responded with a soft kiss, and an even softer "Please" before you got down on your knees.

----------

Daniela Dimitrescu

The redhead's giggles bounced off the bathroom walls, her legs wrapped around your waist as you set her down on the edge of the sink.

"You really couldn't wait until I finished showering?" you teased, watching her dangle the toy by its strap.

"You were gonna get dirty again anyway, you can finish later," she replied with a playful pout. As much of a brat your lover could be, it's not like you could deny her, especially when it came to such desires. It didn't take long for you to get ready, adjusting as quickly as you could while keeping your focus on the hungry look on Daniela's face.

You pushed her dress up to her waist, smirking as you felt up her bare legs and ass, noting her lack of underwear. "Naughty girl."

She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. "I just like to come prepared."

Lining yourself up to her entrance, you heard a small gasp as you slid inside. Her fingers curled around you, looking up with half-lidded eyes as you rested your forehead on hers, moving ever so slowly. She should've known you'd be a tease, as she deserved for interrupting you. "Please," she whimpered when you paused, seated within her.

"Please what, baby?"

She groaned in frustration, "Please-- please fuck me already."

With pleasure. "Good girl."

You pulled back and thrust harder, her moans ringing in your ears. She pushed her hips forward to meet yours to push in deeper, the creak of the sink under her going ignored as the two of you got lost in the act. Her nails clawed at your back, muscles tensing as she left red marks which only encouraged you to go faster.

You reached down to press your thumb onto her clit and rubbed quick circles, groans of pleasure spilling from her lips as she desperately held onto you. "Fuck, Y/N!" Her legs tightened around your waist as she could feel her climax building.

Suddenly, you heard a loud crack, and Daniela dropped from her position. Luckily, your hands under her thighs managed to keep her from landing on the floor. What wasn't quite so lucky was the crooked sink that broke off its pipe, the two of you quickly getting soaked with water. Even when you moved away, stray lines still splattered onto you both, and it left you laughing at the irony. Maybe you were meant to finish your shower after all.

"When I wanted to get wet today, this was not what I had in mind," she remarked, shielding herself from the spray but to no avail.

"You were kind of due for a shower too anyway," you joked, earning you a slap on the shoulder.

She pursed her lips, holding onto you tight with the hard length still inside her. From the way she was shivering, you knew she was still recovering from earlier. One thrust forward got her to yelp, nails digging into your shoulder.

"Fuck!" She covered her mouth, looking down at you pleadingly, "Please let me finish, Y/N."

You raised an eyebrow at her, "Someone definitely heard that crash and is gonna come in any--"

"I don't care! Please, just let me come. I was so close already!" she whined, bouncing in your hold and biting her lip as she clenched around the toy. Not even a broken sink could kill the mood, you supposed. Besides, who else could make her feel this good?

[forever-rogue]

Hi! Wondering if you’re gonna be taking prompts from the 360 you posted. If you are would you be able to do 36 and 54 with Din? Would love to see those with him!

Prompts used: 36. "Does he know about the baby?"

54. "H-how long have you been standing there?"

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: pregnant reader

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Boba?” you reached for the Mandalorian’s arm and stopped him from going any further into his new hold. You wondered, for an amused fraction of a second, if you should attempt to address him as King Boba, just to get a rouse out of him. But the severity, the harsh reality of your current predicament placated any desire to do so. Fett turned to face you, pulling his helmet off so he could see you properly, “might I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course,” he set the helmet down on the aging wooden table as you inhaled and exhaled slowly, “what’s wrong, little one?”

“I was wondering...once you and Fennec are settled and Din plans on leaving,” you found the ground intriguing as you studied the worn soles of your shoes before continuing on, “might I stay on? With the two of you? I-I know I’m not as skilled as either of you, but I swear I’ll pull my weight and do as much as I can - whatever you desire. I would just like to stay here.”

Boba paused for a moment as he looked you over and contemplated what you had asked him. He had no issue with you staying on, absolutely none, knowing you were both capable and a quick learner. It was the reason behind the sudden request that caused him to consider his words. As he watched you, and you grew increasingly nervous, a single tear, one of nerves and worry rolled down her cheek and fell to the sandy ground. 

“Of course you can stay,” his hand went to your shoulder as he delicately squeezed it in a sign of reassurance, “make sure your Mandalorian knows of your plan. It would be a great shock for him to be blindsided.”

“Yes.”

“Does he know about the baby?” he chanced his question, although he was sure he wasn’t too far off the mark. While he had no children of his own, he’d been around enough women to know when someone fell pregnant. Maybe the bounty hunter was extra perceptive, maybe it was a trait of the Mandalorians to all be nurturing and familial, but from the look on your face, he knew he was right on money. 

“How did you...I haven’t told anyone,” your eyes were wide with worry as you looked around to make sure no one had heard Boba. If Din were to ever find out, this would be the last way you wanted him to do so, “I-I found out two months ago and I just...I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and nervous and worried. I can’t just tell him - he’s got too much going on to worry about something else. I can’t do that to him.”

“You think it is a better idea to never tell him about his child and take away any decision he has in this?” ever the level headed negotiator, Boba had a point. Your lips pulled into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, “he deserves to know. Whatever decision he makes after that is up to him. It will tell you his true measure, although I am sure that is already quite apparent.”

“Boba, he’s the Mand’alor now,” you reached for his arm and held it tightly in your grasp, “I-I can’t have him worry about a silly thing like this. Especially not after...Grogu.”

“Tell me then, just what do you plan on doing with the babe?” it was a fair question to ask, and one you really needed to think about. The baby was going to come one way or another, so you would need a plan as quickly as possible, “were you going to have it and hide it? Hand it off to someone else? Raise it on your own and expect that he would never find out? He is your riduur-”

“And he is the Mandalorian and the Mand’alor,” you grew frustrated, not with Boba but with yourself. You knew he was right, you knew that you needed to tell Din but… it wasn’t that simple, “I can’t hold him back with a baby.”

“Suppose you don’t tell him,” Boba held up a hand for a moment as a musing glint entered his eye, “suppose you remain here and have ths child. Do you think he’s never going to come back to see you? Or for business? It would be awfully suspicious if he came in three or four months and found you round with child. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together. It would be a greater pain, I think, if you were not to say anything and he came back to find the truth. You owe him at least some honesty.”

“You’re right,” you confessed quietly, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, “of course you are. I’m scared, Boba. I don’t want him to be angry and hate me or the baby. I don’t want to hold him back either. I want him to be happy…”

“He’d be a lot happier if you’d come to him with this first,” the voice startled you to your core as you realized exactly who it was. Swallowing the lump in your throat, your eyes widened in worry as Boba offered you an encouraging nod. Turning on your heel, you found Din watching both of you with intent; his expression was almost unreadable as your hands started to tremble.

“How long have you been standing there?” what a stupid question from a stupid girl.

“Long enough,” his voice was pointedly neutral as you nodded in understanding, “I think we need to talk.”

“Yes,” you agreed as you shuffled over to him, preparing yourself for the worst. 

Din was silent as he led you back to the quarters that served as your temporary home while you’d helped Boba and Fennec settle into their new roles. You followed close behind and swallowed the lump in your throat as he sealed the door. 

“It is it true?” he asked softly as his gaze shifted to your belly; there was still no evidence of your pregnancy just yet. But soon enough there would be, “you’re with child?”

“Yes,” you admitted, a hand slowly coming to rest on your belly, “I am. I found out…”

“Two months ago,” he finished for you as you nodded, “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I was scared and nervous, Din!”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked softly as you refused to meet his eyes, “Cyare?”

“I wanted to,” you whispered, “I planned on it-”

“When?!”

“Eventually,” you’d seen your husband angry before, but never quite like this...never at you, “I was scared and I panicked and there was so much happening at once.”

“You were scared?” he asked as you nodded. Din stepped closer and stopped in front of you, looking at you curiously as he realized just how hard this was for you as well, “were you scared of me?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and quickly cut him off, “never of you. It was just everything all at once. With losing...him, everything with the Mandalorians and Boba and Fennec. There could not have been a worse time for this to happen. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“You’re sorry?” a look of confusion marred his features as his eyes softened and crinkled in the corner, “whatever are you sorry for? In case you forgot, this didn’t happen just because of you. It takes two...nothing in life seems to go to plan, but that doesn’t mean this doesn’t have to work out, Cyare. You are my riduur and that is our child.”

A large hand found your belly as he pulled you into him, wasting no precious time before he wrapped his arms around you. You hugged him back, just as tightly, just as fiercely, clinging onto him like it was the only thing in life that mattered, “I should have told you sooner, please forgive me, Din. I should have come to you first…”

“I’m glad I found out,” he whispered as he pressed gentle kisses to the side of your head before pulling back and cradling your face in his hands, “before something else happened or we were separated. I’m not mad, I’m happy - really happy. It doesn’t matter that the timing isn’t perfect or we’re in a different situation than we thought we might be. I’m happy, Cyare. I love you beyond measure, and that includes our whole family - Grogu, and whatever other children we’ll have.”

“Yeah?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “I hold you in my heart forever - you are my home, my heart, my family. We’ll figure this out together, I swear. Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything, Din.”

“Don’t stay here,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, “stay with me.”

“Yes,” your smiled against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[capesandshapes]

Didn't You Know? (Post Reveal/Pre Relationship)

Summary:

Marinette is sick and realizes that Adrien has a secret to tell her.

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

The music was loud.

Far too loud.

But she knew at the same time that she was drunk, far too drunk; so that might have played a part in it. Adrien sitting at the bar with girls surrounding him—draped on his shoulders and with hands on his knees— might have also played a part in it. Because she’s tired, and sick, and lonely; and he’s there like he always is, waiting to take her home, waiting to take care of her because he feels like it’s his duty.

Because he’s Chat Noir and she’s Ladybug, and he promised one day however many years ago that he would always take care of her. Now she has to live with that. Now she has to live with wanting him, but still not fucking saying it.

And just when her night seems like it can’t get worse, some guy dumps a pint of whiskey on the front of her dress and makes to clean it up, his napkin at the ready to blot it like this totally isn’t some pre-planned thing—

“Oof,” a familiar voice says beside her, placing his sweatshirt around her shoulders before she can even protest and pushing the hands away before the man can try to ‘help’. “Thank you for that, but she’s already taken care of, I think I’m gonna take her home.”

And immediately the guy, some big burly man likely in his thirties, is flinging accusations and acting like he knows everything. “And who are you to do that?” Like he wasn’t just trying to do something awful.

“I’m her husband,” Adrien says, flashing a black and green ring while throwing a cheeky smile over his shoulder as he pulled the two edges of his sweatshirt a little bit closer around her. “Happily married,” he mutters, his eyes softening as they landed on hers and he saw her pull the sweatshirt on to really sell the statement. He leaned forward to zip it up, throwing the man another smile, this one verging on a warning as he placed his hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize,” the man began, blinking as Adrien made to herd her away.

“It’s fine,” Adrien said, his arm around her shoulders and his eyes staying firmly on her. “She’s going home.” In a stage whisper, he added, “you’re sick, aren’t you sweetheart?”

Which was only half because of the other man and half because she actually was sick, and he wanted an answer.

She had been wondering how long she could keep it from him that night, how long she could last dancing with Alya and accepting only water. Now that he knew who she was, Adrien had a way of seeing through all of her other disguises too. Like her telling herself that she wasn’t sick and trying to act like she wasn’t sick.

Even though a small part of her was afraid she might have caught the flu or been suffering from some sign of overwork…

“I’m going to get your coat,” he said, guiding her near the door.

“Are you also going to go and tell more people that we’re married?” She asked wearily, swaying on her feet.

He laughed, leaving a small kiss on her forehead that almost made her cross her eyes. “I tell everyone I’m married; it keeps them from hitting on me and technically I am…” He raised his hand, waggling his eyebrows at her, “married to the job,” he joked. “I’m taken in more ways than one.”

She wished she didn’t laugh, if only because it encouraged that type of thing. As his friend, she shouldn’t have been happy that he was sitting in clubs with his miraculous on his ring finger, turning away girls who could have been something to him. As his friend, she shouldn’t have raised the sleeve of his sweatshirt to her nose as he walked away, smelling the soft cologne that he’s taken to wearing instead of the Agreste branded stuff.

She really sucked at this whole being his friend thing. More so now than ever.

He reappeared with her jacket, her housekeys in his hand. He didn’t, of course, make any moves to replace the sweatshirt around her shoulders, just another addition to the list of many things that would always make her wonder about where she actually stood with him.

Alya always insisted that he liked her and was just waiting for the right time to say anything, but two years had passed since they’d revealed their identities and Marinette had started to doubt that. If it was more than a childhood crush, he would have told her by now.

Then again, she thought as she watched him wait for their taxi, she hadn’t told him.

***********************************

Adrien unlocked her door and hauled her stuff inside, Marinette following closely behind. He reached around her once she was safely inside, closing the door and locking it.

“I’ll stay on the couch tonight in case you need anything,” he informed her. Adrien was often overbearing when she was sick, a trait that he’d picked up from her once she learned that no one was really around to care for him when the boy was sick. It almost became tradition for the man to sleep in her living room whenever she was ill, another reason why she didn’t want him to know.

It was almost painful how much he cared.

That was the problem with the two of them, someday he would get a girlfriend or she would have another boyfriend, and they would tell him how weird this was, that he cared way too much for the young woman and she cared too far beyond reason for him as well. Then it would end.

She didn’t want it to end.

She wanted a thousand different things in her life, like to start her own fashion line and see the world, but she didn’t want Adrien to leave her.

She was in love with Chat Noir. How long? She couldn’t tell you. Before the reveal, probably. Before she knew that he shared those green eyes with the other guy who made her chest feel heavy and her breathing weak.

“You should shower,” Adrien said. “Are you hungry? We didn’t go out to eat this time.”

“I had a microwave meal.”

“You didn’t eat then,” Adrien proclaimed, marching into her kitchen. Ever since he learned how to cook one summer at Nino’s grandparents, he was a storm in the kitchen. He made food for her whenever he could, always watching her closely for her reaction to that first bite. It reminded her of her father in a way, that excitement to watch her experience new things and know that he was responsible.

She sighed, lumbering into the kitchen on exhausted legs and wrapping her arms around his back, burying her face into it and murmuring her thanks. “I love you,” she mumbled, such a common phrase from her that it always just slipped out.

“I love you too,” he stated, his hands wrapping around hers and giving a reassuring squeeze. “You can put on a new one of my sweatshirts when you get out of the shower,” he said, because eventually she had started a whole collection of them without thinking about it.

She nodded, bending over to remove her high heels before traveling further into the apartment. He was already at her feet by the time she’d managed to overcome dizziness and bend over, beginning the process of unbuckling her heels and tossing them aside.

She blinked at him, feeling his soft blond hair brush against her leg and immediately giving into the urge to touch it. Her hand wove through the back of his hair and he pressed a small kiss to her leg as he finished the last shoe, tossing them aside. “There,” he said, smiling up at her.

She really hoped he thought she was red from the fever.

Freed from her shoes, she felt the world blink in and out as she stumbled to her bathroom, turning the shower on cold to combat her fever despite her body’s pleas not to. She practically fell into the shower and she knew that he heard, rushing to the door as quick as possible. “I’m fine,” she called before he could so much as knock, blinking at the mixture of shampoos and soaps before her. When would she finally make room for Adrien to have his own shelf? She shook her head, tempted as always to see if there was some magic in his fifty-dollar shampoo, but settling for her strawberry-scented one instead. Adrien had teased her the last time she’d used anything on his recommendation.

Finally clean, she emerged from the bathroom, walking the short distance in her towel before ending up in her room. “It’s almost done,” Adrien said from the kitchen as she pulled on a pair of joggers and one of his old sweatshirts, pulling her hair into a sad attempt of a bun.

Deeming herself close enough to presentable, she moved back into the kitchen, steadying herself on the wall when he noticed her and his face broke into a smile.

“You didn’t have any chicken stock, so I made leek soup,” he said, gesturing to the bowls, one for her, one for him.

She nodded, grabbing the bowl and moving to the living room, scooting too close into his side when he settled on the couch beside her, flicking on the tv. He threw on the show they’d been watching recently, a bad soap opera about werewolves that had the sets falling apart around them. She let out the softest yawn when the theme music began, sinking further and further into him until he finally finished his food, placing his arm around her.

“When is she finally going to realize that he’s in love with her,” she grumbled. “I mean, they’re dating, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know,” Adrien said, pulling the empty bowl from her lap and pulling her on top of him, the two laying together as the show continued to play. His eyebrows furrowed, concern for the characters showing on his face, “I mean, she has stuff at his place and everything.”

That didn’t mean anything, Marinette had things at Adrien’s place. She had more than one drawer, a whole closet even. “I mean, he said he’s in love with her, right?”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed. “And they go practically everywhere together, people invite them as a couple.”

“And he sends her all these texts every day of things that she’s into!” Marinette complained. “I don’t know much about love, but that seems like it’s part of it.”

“Mhm,” Adrien agreed, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for the recipes the other day, by the way.”

“No problem—” she began, and then stopped, her eyes sliding over to him. He still watched the tv with the same expression, not even giving what he’d done a second thought.

“I think he’s finally about to say it,” Adrien stated with a frown. “It’s taken long enough.”

But Marinette couldn’t focus on the show at all. All she could do was stare at him. “You almost kissed me,” she marveled.

He cast her a questioning look, looking over at her just slightly before turning back to the tv. “Do you want me to fully kiss you, or?”

Marinette straightened, using her forearms to jerk back from him, her eyes wide.

He blinked, turning around to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Marinette?”

“You kissed me,” she repeated, deciding at the corner was good enough and reaching to touch her mouth with her hand almost absentmindedly, tumbling against his chest in the process.

“Yes?” He said, peeling her off him to look him in the eyes. “I mean, that’s what people do when they’re dating—”

Her mouth fell open.

“Marinette..?”

“We’re dating?!” She yelled, her eyes wild.

He immediately flattened against the couch, looking almost as shocked at the statement as she was. “Marinette, I have stuff at your apartment, you have stuff at mine. I cook for you, we have shows. We watched all of Naruto together. You tell me you love me every day, and I say it back.”

“But that’s—We—” She floundered, almost falling off the couch.

Adrien’s hand caught her. “Marinette, be careful, you have a fever—”

“How long?” She asked, slumping into his hand. “We haven’t even kissed—”

“To be fair, we have kissed plenty of times before and I just assumed—”

“How. Long.” She repeated, and she could see the pure terror grow in his eyes.

“Two weeks?” He said, quickly explaining, “I mean, I sent you that long text about how much I liked you and you sent me back that you would be lucky to be my girlfriend, any girl would—”

She gasped, almost falling backward this time before his hands plastered themselves to the small of her back, the young man sitting up beneath her.

“Marinette?!”

“You’re my boyfriend,” she said loudly. “Oh my god, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He frowned.

“But you tell people that you’re married—”

“As a private joke,” he corrected. “I also tell people that I’m taken, not as a joke.” His hands pulled back from her, his voice almost unsure as he asked, “do you not want to be?”

“Of course, I want to be,” she squeaked. “I mean, that’s like asking someone if they want to be rich, or have a room full of puppies, or cure cancer—”

The corner of his mouth rose in a smirk.

“It’s just that I didn’t know,” she finished. “I haven’t even kissed you. And now I’m sick and I have this boyfriend here to take care of me, and he’s going to sleep on the couch…” Marinette struggled to list everything else wrong.

Adrien didn’t give her a chance.

No, instead he grabbed the side of her face and pulled her down, pressing his lips against hers in a firm, inarguable kiss.

“Well, I don’t have to sleep on the couch…” he said as he pulled away.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

It’s A Match Chapter One

Masterlist

Disclaimer

Summary: Filming is over and Henry returns home to and empty house. And he doesn't like it, things are getting to him and he doesn't want to be alone anymore. Then his brother suggests online dating, it sounds mad but henry decides to give it a shot. If worst comes to worst he just deletes the profile. He has nothing to loose right?

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Cheese, Self Indulgent Fic, Rpf, Plus sized reader.

A/N: so I wrote this before the whole 'girlfriend' shock and everything that has followed. I was of two minds whether to ever post it but honestly, this is my blog and I've clearly stated that i am going to continue writing Rpf. I want to do a little ficlet/mini fic and well here we go. It wont be smutty just  somewhat angsty then fluffy. Enjoy~

Taglist: In Reblogs.

Henry slumped back on the seat in his conservatory and sighed, from here he could see his brothers and their wives outside, each snuggled up on the out door wicker sectional he had got to have the family over. It was the first family get together for over a year. He was happy, god it was amazing to see them but... He couldn't help being a tad envious.

They all had a family, wife and kids to go through this shitstorm in. He had no one, well he ha Kal. But that was it he sighed and looked away sipping from his cup slowly takeing a moment for himself. He needed to just chill, but it was getting hard... This year had really knocked him back he was at an all time low he hadn't felt like this for a long time. He knew he was depressed, he felt stupid there was no reason to be but there we go.

Henry had been getting himself all twisted for a while now, filming the Witcher helped but now that was over and he was home alone. Left with his thoughts in a big empty house.

"Sooo little brother want to tell me what's going on or am I gonna have to get mum in here?" Henry jumped at the voice and spun around to face his brother who was keeping a safe distance at the door. Wiping his hands down clearly just having washed them again.

"I ah its nothing, you know me I'm a worry wart" he said waving off his older brother he didn't want to bring down the mood of the small gathering, it was why he had come in here to take a breather.

"You called us all here for a visit hen, out of the blue when lockdown is still being eased out. Its clear you don't want to be alone, yet your sitting in here alone." His older brother said leaning on the door frame folding his arms trying to figure out what was really going on. He could see his little brother was hurting he wanted to help.

"I've got Kal" Henry said with a chuckle and looked about for the bear only to frown and sigh seeing the room was empty apart fro  him and his brother.

"Kal's outside with the kids hen, what's up? You can tell me you know" henry sided as his sibling  moved sitting in the small seat across from him. He knew that his family would listen but he felt so... spoilt like he was asking too much and was being selfish. It wasn't like him.

He grunted leaning back choosing not to look at his brother instead focusing on the cup in his hand. He spun it slightly then heaved a sigh. He wasn't getting away with not speaking about it, he was going to air out his worries one way or another. With his brother or his mother, and he loved his mother but this was? He wanted to keep this issues close to his chest. So far only Kal knew about his problems.

"I... I've had enough... just had enough of fucking covid and being alone... i felt isolated before all this shit kicked off and now?" He vented releasing all the fears he had. It was tough, he was a family man without his own little family, he hadn't managed to find anyone to share his life with and it got to him. He tried being sincere and polite, he took care of himself and tried staying true to himself but... something was missing it had to be! On paper he was a safe bet a good man! Yet his relationships never worked. There were different opinions or his other half couldn't handle the life style or they tried changing him or they couldn't put up with the way he loved so furiously- so openly wanting to always hold and kiss them. It just never quite worked.

"Its- fuck everything has just caught up with me...worries I've had for a few years now I could ignore them you know? I had other stuff going on, was always out and about meetings and press tours I was busy! But now?" He tried putting his feeling into words but he was conscious, he didn't want to whine or bitch about his life. He loved his work and the life he had made for himself he just? Wanted someone to share it with.

"Now after covid you've got all the time in the world to think?" Henry nodded agreeing with his brother. Covid had made him face these fears head on. He has been alone for the best part of a year with the uncertainty of his work and filming quarantines and isolations.

"Yeah, it hurts I'm... I'm in deep and I? I don't know how I'm getting out of this slump" henry finally said outloud, his brother dipped his head listening to him as he ranted. Started letting out all the frustration and anxiety out but stopped short with another growl closeing his hand around the cup tightly hissing in frustration then looked away.

"And what's caused it? I know you hate being alone but?" Henry sighed shaking his head as his brother tried coaxing more out of him. He drew in a shaky breath wanting to cry, he was just so lost and upset over being upset and alone.

"Two lock downs... Two alone- I? If this carries on for the next few years I don't... I don't want to be alone anymore! I want to settle down, I want an actual personal life! A relationship a family and? How? How am I gonna find all that? They want fame or money or something! Women never seem to want me for me, they say the do then judge me for my hobbies- I'm a geek I like tech and games and fantasy! And women don't like that" he spewed the words like they were venom, half ashamed of being so dramatic but the fear was real. Henry was scared, he wanted love. He wanted a family of his own, and it seemed impossible, now more then ever.

"I want to meet someone who will take me as I am, for me and I just I'm giving up. I'm giving up on it I can feel it, almost forty and look, alone unmarried no kids-I have no one to share my life with, it hurts am I not good enough for that?"  He hung his head as he spoke the final words put loud. He felt so vain and full of himself when he said them out loud, his skin crawled.

But it was how he felt, being the muscular decent looking man he was didn't go with his personality. He was a geek and the woman who were drawn to him didn't want that. And the woman that shared his hobbies normally weren't confident enough to even speak to him. Society's views on acceptable couples had put Henry in no mans land.

"What about online dating?" His brother spoke up but Henry just grunted rolling his eyes frustrated.

"What? No I cant do that I'd be fucking swamped" he hissed in irritation frustrated at the mere suggestion of him trying to date online.

"Whoa hold your horses let me finish I mean come on Hen there's bound to be hundreds of shy sweet women on there, I mean girls that are into your hobbies and stuff aren't usually the ones out and about partying and stuff, so its more likely they will be online" his brother quickly explained before Henry could pop off on one and shut him down.

Henry opened his mouth and stopped himself. That was a good point. Many of the women he would click with weren't going to be in bars or fancy parties. They were normally shy and at home most of the time reading or playing games.

"I... You really think i could meet someone? Meet the one online?" He asked in a small voice warming to the idea. His sibling smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes little brother, your a down to earth guy, just make a profile and have a look, if you don't like what you see you can delete the profile" henry nodded slowly thinking it over. There'd be no harm if he failed well he'd be no worse off, a little disheartened but that's about it.

"Look write down a few things you want in your dream girl, have a pseudo name like fucking I don't know Hank! Or something and say your a runner on set or something" his brother spoke up quickly as Henry sat back and actually thought about it seriously. He was right, henry could tweak things and be careful about what he shared and if he did meet the one then she'd understand... He could explain the predicament he was in. That he just wanted someone who liked him for him. And he would only reveal himself to her if she was the one and he was sure she would understand. As long as he was himself and honest about everything else in his life then there was no harm... and if he used proper photos of himself just... half cropped out then? It wasn't catfishing? Because he was being himself just using the nickname his mother used to call him.

"O-okay so be myself but... Just tweak a few things? So they don't know its me?" He reiterated to his brother still trying to figure out the morality of this whole idea.

"Yes! No full on pictures, no photos of Kal either new photos henry not old, maybe of your eyes up or something? Girls love blue eyed boy- not your right that brown will give you away... you could even fuck em up with a behind the scenes character photo? I mean come on how many men use a superman photo for their profile these days?" He encouraged wanting more then anything to cheer up his little brother.

"I yeah... That could work ,thank you- I'm sorry I got so worked up it... Its just getting to me now" henry apologised but his brother shook his head and chuckled standing up to go back outside to the others that were all happily chatting in the garden.

"I know Hen, look just give it a go, you might be surprized... come on lets get back out there, after all you are the host~ you cant just run off and hide" henry grinned standing and following his brother. It was decided, he'd give online dating a go!

A week later Henry sat at the computer everything was ready, he'd taken some precise photos and had spent the last half hour writing a profile up. He had felt a little guilty about this... Was he lying? Technically it was him, he was going by Hank which was a nickname his parents gave him as a child, luckily this site didn't require a surname because honestly? He had no clue! To fend off some guilt he had thrown in a behind the scenes photo of himself as superman it wasn't much but it helped take the edge off. The other photos were cropped and there were a good few just so that the women knew he wasn't technically a catfish; he even did one with him covering half of his face with a piece of paper with Hank scrawled across it. At the time he felt silly but it helped with his anxiety over the whole thing.

He paused for a second eyeing the screen rereading the profile over and over trying to make sure it was alright and honest. And it was, he had explained a little about himself, his hobbies and interests and his job... Only brushing over he worked for the film and tv industry recently working for Netflix he hadn't exactly explained what he did but there was enough information.

With a deep breath he clicked the button his mouse hovered over going live with the profile. Now all he had to do was wait and hope he caught a good womans eye. Within moments a few profiles popped up, matches. He scanned them flicking through some of the profiles and felt his heart crack. They were all full of badly filtered photos and used slang that to be honest he didn't even understand. What was so hard about using plain English?

He growled growing frustrated clicking through what were clearly a bunch of wannabe sugar babies. Each profile had a main photo a little bit of info then a few more pictures added to them. He scanned each one quickly going through the motions judging each one. 'Too far away... Your clearly not even eighteen?... Oh you like dc? Really hate to break it to you but thor is not a dc character' Henry grunted as he bypassed what felt like hundreds of women each with their own 'duck face' selfie most advertising their Instagram pages some even ballsy enough to add their only fans pages.

'Wait a second who was that?' He paused and scrolled back up and eyed the image on screen. It was a face on photo a cute woman smiling uncomfortably. Unlike everyone else's there was no distorting blur or heavy editing, the only make up was in the form of eyeliner in a set of black slightly uneven cat eyes. A slightly skewed black flicks making a point of no editing on the photo.

She was a full figured woman with proper kissable round cheeks and a sweet nervous grin. Her eyes were what got him, they were kind and genuine he could see she was uneasy about the photo but she was beautiful. She lived about half hour away which wasn't to bad.

Henry clicked the profile and scrolled down she didn't smoke, drunk occasionally and had no children. She did however have a college education in animal care and ran a small business. Centred on dogs by the looks of it. He moved further down reading the profile.

Y/n, 30, business owner, e/c, 5'4, curvy

I'm shy so will take a while to warm up to you. A honest woman, sometimes to honest I don't seem to have a filter 🤗 I'm laid back and tend to be sarcastic and I love animals I'm a kc certified dog breeder as well as run a small successful business that caters to dogs. So if you are allergic or don't like dogs then leave now but thank you for clicking🙃

I spend most of my free time gaming or reading. I enjoy the fantasy genre and love dc and marvel (though I love dc just a tad more🤫)

I have one fur baby in the form of my lovely girl Amii who is a three year old malamute. Yes malamute not a husky or Akita so again if you don't like dogs or big dogs I'm not the girl for you.

I'm looking for someone to have fun and maybe build a life with. Covid has been tough being single and decided that it was about time I tried this whole online dating thing. If you want to chat pop me a message 🥰

I do not have a personal Instagram, snapchat or only fans! Stop asking for pictures!😠😠

Henry's face split into a huge grin. She seemed to good to be true. She was wholesome, successful in her own right and looked fun. She didn't seem to be full of kale and bullshit. Just genuine and? Henry couldn't put his finger on it but there was something drawing him to this woman.

True to her word there was no Instagram link, no only fans or snap chat or anything. He scrolled further seeing photos of her and the biggest fluffiest dog he had ever seen in his life. She was sitting down next to who he assumed was Amii her dog and he melted. Y/n looked happy and content, living her best life.

There was nothing that sent alarm bells ringing, no racey photos or 'Netflix and chill' innuendos. The profile was clean and genuine.  He was right the woman was a little chunky but extraordinarily beautiful. The curves suited her and made her look more... cheerful and he could tell she was strong aswell, you had to be to have a huge dog like that about you.

There were photos of her walking a large pack of dogs in the wood; that he recognised! They were the very same he took Kal to only ten minuets down the road, he even recognised the small logo of her company on the jacket she wore. He had seen dog walkers wearing the same jacket so he knew of her brand. I he remembered correctly the company offered dog walking, grooming and kennel facilities as well as offering Breeding services helping stud dogs and stuff. They also helped advertise registered breeders and took in rescues for rehoming. It was a brilliant little company that he had even used for Kal once or twice to get his teeth cleaned and nails clipped, because Kal was a bugger for his pedicures!

He moved further down seeing more photos of the woman a small section with the games and tv she liked. Witcher was in both the tv and games category aswell as peaky blinders, Vikings and a few other shows.

Henry paused as he saw the chat button. Should he? He but his lip twisting on the spot in he chair rocking from side to side. What harm is there? He could just send a message she looked like a fun loving woman, he shared the same interests and stuff... so why not?

His fingers hovered over the keys ready to type out the words. But he choked. His mind ran blank what does he say? Hi? I saw your profile? Does he ask for a date? What does he do?

He let his hands fall and growled. Then scanned over the side of the message bar seeing a few pre-typed responses.

'It's a match!' 'You look fun, lets chat' 'I like your profile picture'

He winced they all seemed... wrong? Somehow they were polite and all but it- they wasn't personal or anything just... not quite right. He looked down as Kal came padding over and slumped next to him resting his chin on his foot with a loud sigh. With that Henry had an idea typing away a little message and hitting send before he could really think.

You sighed typing away the latest wage slips and added up all the various overtime, you really needed some more staff on now that lockdown was coming to an end. Thankfully animal care was essential so you hadn't been hit too hard a few staff were on furlough as they were extreme high risk and shielding but you were going out of your way to make the premises covid safe. Luckily it wasn't too hard as much of the business was just a few staff and lots of dogs.

You frowned when a chat icon popped up in to corner of your screen. 'Hank?' You though trying to remember if you knew a Hank? Maybe a client or some old friend... but you honestly couldn't recall. You l saved your document and clicked the small icon bringing up a chat and frowned a you read the little message.

'I call my dog bear but he has nothing on Amii, Shes the fluffiest dog I've ever seen in my life she looks perfect for bear hugs😅'

'what the hell?' You cursed scrunching your nose up at the screen rereading the words. That's a bit random... you clicked his icon a small photo of half of his face then froze as a dating profile opened up. 'Oh... shit' you said seeing that your own profile you'd set up a few days ago out of curiosity had garnered the attention of the handsome blue eyed stranger. You swallowed biting you lip thoughts of finishing updating your records now gone as you scanned Hanks profile and a small smile crossed your face.

Hank, 37, works in the film industry. Blue eyes, 6ft, muscular.

Decided to finally try this online dating, unsure what to say other then I'm looking for a life partner. I like to think I'm funny and laid back. I'm fit and active but that doesn't mean you have to be, but maybe my lady could come for walks with me and my four legged son? I promise he's my best freind and a good boy.

My job is tough and I'm away for long periods of time, but when I'm home I like to play games and am into warcraft. I paint miniatures when I can. Fantasy and superheroes are a big part of my hobbies so if you don't like all things geek then I'm probably not for you.

But if they are? Then feel free to message me, I will reply when I can.

You read and re-read the profile And your hands hovered over your chicklet keyboard. Biting your lip, do you respond? He seemed sweet and real... if that made sense. You took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? Asking for a plane ticket? You decided to take a chance and typed back a reply hitting send whilst you had your nerve and then flushed.

"And they say fluffy dogs only lure in women~" You giggled to yourself  moving a hand over the huge fluffy girl beside you giving her pets whislt thinking of a reply.

[katsuflossy]

BeatBox/Junebugg Challenge

Pairings: Shouto Todoroki x reader, Kastuki Bakugou x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Eijirou Kirishima x reader, Hanta Sero x reader, Denki Kaminari x reader, Hitoshi Shinsou x reader, Tenya Iida x reader.

TW: just the regular obscenities

A/n: IK y’all may not know this trend but it’s funny af so this is the beatbox/junebugg challenge (sound by SpotemGottem) and yeah I hope y’all like my lil hc of the s/o doing it with the boys 💖💖

Taglist: @eharmonythotbot @lilsparkyswife @teddybearrx @angiebug101 @sesshomaruwaifu @blackweebtrash @minajkatsuki @cyans-bliss @myhoodacademia @mypimpademia @melanimed @peach-child @zombie-kun @xx-opaqued-xx @sunshineszn @prettybitch-ki @tsukkisukkii

🧊 He has the most aesthetically pleasing tiktok

🧊 There’s slime videos, drawing videos with lofi music in the back, your basic encouraging quotes

🧊 Who needs therapy when you got Shouto’s fyp? /j

🧊 He may be a lil...offbeat in your dance videos but he still tries. Thankfully this was an easy one to learn.

🧊 He out here thinking he got it until you buck at him.

🧊 You think he finna take that shit? He’s gonna buck TF back, on reflex, and scare the fuck out of you.

🧊 Immediately goes into protective boyfriend mode after seeing you flinch hard. You should expect a tight hug; he’s rubbing your back while the whole clip rolling.

🧊 “Love, I’m sorry but why did you move to hit me? I didn’t mean to scare you I’m sorry.”

🧊 “Baby, It’s okay that was the challenge.”

🧊 “Yes, but you looked so scared and it was my fault,” he wraps his arms tighter around you so you’re snuggled safely into his chest.

🧊 Post it with captions of what he said during the video and see all the comments talm bout “⚠️‼️WARNING‼️HAPPY COUPLE⚠️”

💥 It’s known Bakugou knows no fucking challenge on that app.

💥 Except for that buss it challenge. He’s keeping tabs on yo ass.

💥 His fyp is comprised of prisontok (thank mtha for this), mortalkombat edits, and recommendations for shoujo mangas DC comics.

💥 He already knows the drill, you teach him the dance, he does it with no care, you post it.

💥 This one is fairly easy… until you attempt to press him

💥 He runs up on you, chest puffed up, arms tense and hanging straight. That intimidation stance.

💥 “What you tryna do? We can tussle right now wassup.” Now you gotta deal with him pressing you as you finish the dance.

💥 When he realizes you’re laughing, he just sucks his teeth before lightly pushing you.

💥 “Why am I even dating you?”

💥 The biggest tsundere simp on the earth.

💥 He loves you so much but you always test him.

🥦 Umm All Might edits runs his fyp.

🥦 The occasional analytic reports on recent and past villain attacks are there too.

🥦 Only gets a smidge of alt tiktok so it ain’t that boring.

🥦 Doesn’t know the dance either but he’ll do it just for you <3

🥦 Never expects you to fucking buck at him tho.

🥦 Mans flinch mad hard omg.

🥦 He removes his hands from his face when he hears you laugh and continue the dance.

🥦 Now he stopped, looking at you with the saddest puppy eyes.

🥦 “Why did you flinch at me baby?” He’s just standing in the frame all pouty and shit.

🥦 “Prince(ss), please don’t do that again. You honestly scared me.” He walks off in the middle of the video, his fluffy duck house slippers squeaking with every step.

🥦 Go say you’re sorry right now 🧍🏽‍♀️

⛑ Crimson Riot edits duhh

⛑ But it’s a mixture of Bakugou’s and Todoroki’s with a sprinkle of popular dances down his stream.

⛑ Has Ski Mask edits as well

⛑ Still, he doesn’t know the dance at all

⛑ Baby boy is so sweet cause the second you buck at him...he just plants one straight on your lips thinking you went in for a kiss.

⛑ Shocked, bamboozled, frozen, he really kissed you as you tried to buck him?

⛑ Mans continued the dance like you’re not wide-mouthed behind him.

⛑ “Bro, I know you did not just kiss me when I tried to buck you.” The whole badman vibes just dissipate from the air, he smiling at you like it was cool.

⛑ “Babe,” he whined. “I thought you just wanted a smooch.”

⛑ Seeing you mad, he just grabs you up and launches more kisses on your face.

⛑ You tried to look hard for the video only for him to soften you up quickly.

⛑ At least you got cuddles after.

🩹 His tiktok is filled with funny ass videos

🩹 They always come up on his fyp before going famous. Hence why his comments be having 30k likes (they funny as well)

🩹 Has the best cooking tutorials in his favorites that he makes to impress you.

🩹 Already knows the dance so you don’t need to teach him.

🩹 Y’all both tried to press each other with giant smiles on your faces before starting a round of play fighting.

🩹 “Can’t fuck with you no mo.” He turns to you before continuing the dance.

🩹 Alternating lyrics and shii...being the baddest couple to step in the game.

🩹 He wraps his arms around you before throwing peace signs to the camera at the end.

🩹 The coolest boyfriend award goes to this king.

⚡️ How...how is he in every part of tiktok

⚡️ Straightok, alt tiktok, beantok, frogtok. You describe to him the video and he either knows it or he can find it in seconds.

⚡️ If Pandora’s Box opened and escaped into somebody’s account, it would most likely be Denki’s.

⚡️ He did the challenge with Bakugou before but it ended in flames...but he won’t decline to do it wit you

⚡️ Why y’all buck each other and ended up hitting your foreheads?

⚡️ Spent the rest of the video rubbing your forehead while Denki laughing.

⚡️ “Why tf your shit so hard? Built like damn cement” you glared at him as he laughed even harder.

⚡️ “I shock my own brain everyday. I think my skull hardened as a result”

⚡️ The next day, you’re seen walking around with your forehead on swole.

⚡️ On the bright side, you get forehead kisses every 5 minutes.

🔮 There ain’t no Eraserhead edits so he makes them himself.

🔮 All his fyp got some led light show going on. Every. Fucking. Video.

🔮 But they’re all good vibes, great music, and nice ass comment section

🔮 Occasional gaming videos come up because he follows some twitch streamers on there

🔮 Doesn’t know the beatbox/junebugg challenge. You woke him out of bed to do it.

🔮 You’re vibing in the video before you buck at him.

🔮 He didn’t budge. He stopped doing the dance altogether to stand up and just glare you down.

🔮 He out here in his cow print moo moo pants and you do this shit to him?

🔮 Now you’re nervous, flickering your eyes to him as you continued the video dancing.

🔮 The minute the sound ends he stalks off back to bed. Using all the sheets to cover him.

🔮 Have fun sleeping in the cold. Just kidding, he can’t sleep without cuddling you but just remember he is mad.

👓 ...you think he knows tiktok?

👓 Thought it was slang for the actual clock app.

👓 Got it to see what the hype was about but doesn’t even bother to make an actual account.

👓 It’s really just the generic shit on there.

👓 So he’s excited to do a dance with you even though he only knows the tinman.

👓 Umm...failed to do the actual dance. It gives 60-year-old white man on a tropical cruise.

👓 And then you buck at him.

👓 All movements stop. He justs staring at you, his glasses hiding his actual eyes.

👓 The air around you feels real cold. Your premonition telling you to electric slide out of the room but nah, you continue to dance. The man, who tried to commit murder at the age of 16, just staring at you stoned face.

👓 The second he opened his mouth, you DIPPED out of the room, leaving your phone running and Iida just standing confused.

👓 Turns out, he wasn’t trying to end your bloodline, he was just confused if that was a dance step he missed.