#i. guess. i always forget how to tag this sort of stuff

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.���

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[antirepurp]

i named the boy he's called burnt sonic now, because you know he burns himself up on the regular? idk but he needed some kinda name and that one struck a chord with me. video uses old materials, i ended up fiddling with them afterwards and didn't want to record and render all of this over again hee hoo

get him on gamebanana: https://gamebanana.com/mods/508085

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: Sofiiel

Stripper!Eddie x Shy!Fem!Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 (end)

WC: 12.9k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Stripper!Eddie, shyness towards men, nervousness, self-esteem issues, fluff of some sort, self doubt, flirting, soft touches, skin on skin contact, kissing, kissing with tongue, pining, Stripper!Billy and Stripper!Steve at the end.

Plot: You thought you were cursed with your shyness, but after one embarrassing night, you decide it's time to change, and you believe someone might be able to help with that.

Summary: You get to know Eddie in a more intimate way, and he helps you with something you didn't think he would agree to. But friends always help eachother.

Listen to the kissing scene here, with AI Eddie.

A/N: Can't even begin to describe how happy you guys made me with all of your reblogs and boosting this story in ways I didn't think could be done! Welcome to all new followers, to all new readers and thank you for your support!

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PART 4

You ran out of coffee. That’s the first thing you noticed this morning as you got up and wanted your shot of caffeine. The fact you would have to go out to go get a cup of coffee before starting your day at work, was already making you whine with exasperation. 

You had a coffee machine at home because you always liked some nice, steamy, cup of coffee as soon as you woke up, but, you forgot to get it last time you went grocery shopping, swearing you had some, knowing you had some, so your best guess was that Robin snuck in and took it, forgetting to tell you.

You both have copies of your keys, because that’s the one lucky thing of having a friend in the same complex. If something seems out of the ordinary, or something happens at all, you could always go and check on eachother. It was safe, and you both liked feeling safe by one another.

But there were times where Robin would sneak in while you were out or something, or even sleeping, and she would get stuff she doesn’t have. You could go do that to her as well, but she probably used it all by now, so it was no use. You know Robin’s got a sweet stash at her home, so you always invade her property to steal some Reeses or some Musketeers. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wearing your Pikachu PJs and groaned, knowing you had to change out of the comfy clothes to get into restraining ones. You looked at the clock, 8:10. You had fifty minutes before you got into work, so you moved quickly to get dressed, with the new clothes you got during last week. 

After that meeting with Eddie and his friends, you’ve been shopping during the week, sometimes with Robin, sometimes by yourself, and you actually quite liked picking up clothes that no one could judge in the changing room but you and you only. You’ve gotten blouses, tank tops, a lot of colors, skirts, even shorts you felt comfortable in.

But you also bought something you never thought you would buy. A black piece of lingerie. Seeing it against your body, made you feel powerful, there was the obvious insecurity at the back of your throat and your mind, trying to tell you that you would not use it, that you don’t need it, that you don’t even look like the mannequin where it was displayed.

But you still felt that power. And you wanted it. So you got it. As well as a black stiletto dress, some heels, some accessories. Yes, your credit card bill will be something next month, but it was the first time you shopped, pushing so many negative thoughts away, listening to your gut only. 

So, right now, you put on some pair of jeans and a pink blouse over you, throwing on your white sneakers as well, since it was just a trip to the coffee shop that was two blocks away from your apartment complex. You grabbed your purse, threw your cell phone in there and off you went, walking into the morning sun and the soft summer breeze hitting your skin as you walked.

The days were getting hotter, and you were happy to have A/C in your apartment and mostly in your room, because that would have been agonizing. You could see people in suits walking to get the bus, or going straight to their workplace, and of course the old ladies that took their morning walks with their little dogs.

You reached the coffee shop, small, but it served coffee. You never came here, always opting to go to starbucks or another shop, because here, in this particular shop, there was always–

“Hello! What can I get for you?” Your eyes finally focused on the pair of green ones in front of you. A small knot appeared in your belly, as the nerves vacated in your throat, looking at the guy in front of you. He had black hair, and a bright smile on his face, the apron of the shop sitting on his waist. 

You licked your lips as you felt your fingertips warming up, as well as your ears, looking up at the menu as your brain started working once more. You scanned your options and took a deep breath in, pushing yourself to look down towards the guy’s eyes once again. 

“I would like a medium coffee, with half creamer in it please.” You respond to him, no shakiness in your voice, no stuttering, you didn’t even think of the words, or process anything, you just talked. And he was a handsome young man, probably beginning his 20’s, but his eyes were sharp green, yet, you didn’t feel like running away.

“Sure thing! To go?” Was his next question and you wanted to nod, because it didn’t require for you to speak really, but you still did, just to prove yourself, just to feel prouder and feel your chest gleam with victory.

“Yes, please.” You grabbed your purse and found your hands steady, a little bit of coldness at the tip of your fingers, but nothing like before. Nothing like you would have acted before. You grabbed your wallet and took out the money, and you looked at the bill in your hand and the counter. You raised your head up again, and put the money in front of you for him to take from your hand.

He smiled and grabbed the bill from the other end, and you felt yourself blush slightly as you saw he was about to give you change.

“Keep it.” It wasn’t much, but this had made your day insanely better, by a mile, and it didn’t even start yet. The sun was up, yes, but it was too early in the morning. The guy smiled at you again, giving you a nod.

“Thank you lovely.” Oh, a pet name. Your heart picked up a pace as you smiled back at him, and his back finally turned, letting you exhale a shaky breath out of your lips. Your stomach was knotting, but you kept your gaze up, hand on the counter as you waited for him to finish your coffee. There was a part of you that wanted to run away, but because you didn’t know what to take of that pet name. Eddie says them all the time, so it’s nothing special, right? It’s just a way of calling someone.

He turned around with your coffee in hand, and slid it over to you with a smile to his face, which you returned, despite feeling your neck burning from nervousness, and you grabbed your cup, putting the strap of your purse over your shoulder. You cleared your throat slightly and pushed your limits once again.

“Have a good day.” You say to him and he gives you a small chuckle and a nod.

“You too Miss!” And that was that. You turned around and walked out of the door, with a small ding as you opened it. You were wide eyed, a huge grin on your face as you walked, trying to keep your excitement inside. A month ago, you wouldn’t have done that, there was no way you would have done something like that! You looked at him, straight in the eye and even held a conversation! Tipped him! 

You were panting heavily as you finally reached your complex, looking at the time on your phone as you headed to Robin’s apartment. You had 20 minutes before logging into work, and you couldn’t wait. You couldn’t contain it inside yourself. You fumbled with the keys on her lock, and rushed inside, pushing the door closed with your foot and dropping everything, the cup of coffee and your purse on Robin’s table.

You rushed towards her room, already hearing the intense snoring your friend has, and you opened her door to see her hugging her pillow, while drooling all over it, one leg over the comforter as she slept on her side. You bit your lip as you tiptoed to her right side, and then lightly shook her shoulder.

“Robin… Robs…” You tried waking her up and all you got was a soft snore and a grunt.

“5 more minutes and I’ll get ready mom…” You giggled under your breath and shook her harder.

“Robin, wake up, I have to tell you something!” You exclaimed a little louder this time, and that made her head prop up from her pillow, doing a slurping sound as she put her spit back in her mouth, her hair almost looking like a nest.

“What the fuck are you doing? Its–” She double tapped the phone on her nightstand and looked at the time through half lidded eyes. “Almost 9 AM! I work at 10 and I wake up ten minutes before logging in.” She grunted out to you and you were still smiling widely and shaking her shoulder.

“But I need to tell you something! Look what I got!” You rushed outside the room to go grab the forgotten cup of coffee and then rushed back towards Robin’s room to see her sitting up, rubbing her eyes while yawning. You showed her your cup and she just looked at you as if you were completely insane.

“You got… Coffee?” And her eyes slightly widened as she rubbed her eyes with her fingers, pinching them as frustration hit her. “I took the last of your coffee, shit, forgot to tell you.”

“Robin, no! I got it from the coffee shop two blocks down!” You tried again and she just looked at you with a confused look on her face.

“I don’t know why you woke me up for, but I do not appreciate it–”

“The barista was a guy!” 

And Robin sat there, looking at you, blinking slowly as your news sank in. She knew about the guy at that coffee shop, she buys her coffee there, while you drive around to look for Female baristas, but now you bought coffee from the same place she does. It was a family business and the guy is the son of the owner. 

“You bought coffee…”

“Yes.”

“From the barista, who is a man.”

“Yes, and I said thank you, tipped him, gave the money in his hand and even wished him a good day without driving my eyes away.” You puffed out your chest as you took a sip of your coffee which was now cold, making you wince in disgust. 

Robin slowly started smiling widely at you and she plopped herself onto the bed again with a cheer, excitement blooming in her chest for you, because this now offered you possibilities, chances, and it opened so many doors for you, the possibility of thousands of paths you could take.

“Holy shit! GOD BLESS STRIPPERS!” She yelled out loud which made you choke on the coffee you were sipping, and then trying to shush her through your coughs.

“Robin, shut up!” You laughed as you placed your cup on her night table, sitting next to her as she just stared at the ceiling with a wild look on her face.

“This is huge! Like, now you can talk to strangers! Like, complete strangers without knowing their name! This is a big step!” She giggled as she looked up at you and you were smiling, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly because of how proud you felt of yourself. 

“He even called me Lovely, and I didn’t flinch! I blushed of course, but I stood my ground.” You tell her, and she sat up, pinching your cheek tightly.

“I am so proud of you…” And you knew she meant it as you pushed her away from the assault on your cheek, rubbing it afterwards as you laughed at her, but Robin’s smile faded slightly as she looked down at her hands. “What about the other girls? When will you tell them that you’re doing this?” She asked and yes, you have been keeping this a secret therapy from the other girls in the group, but because you wanted to surprise them, and you also felt too much pressure on yourself if many people knew about this. 

“When I get a date… I will tell them. I just feel like I have to make them proud if I do tell them, like I will force myself to move rapidly and not at my own pace.” You try to explain and gladly Robin understood, giving you a nod. Her smile returned but in the shape of a smirk as she scooted closer to you.

“You gonna tell Eddie?” You looked at her and you felt a burning happening on your ears, and you felt a cold sweat going from the bottom of your neck and running towards your chest. “You still going to his house after work?” Your eyes widened as you jumped up from the bed.

“WORK!” You rushed out of the bedroom, leaving a laughing Robin trying to catch her breath on her bed. Of course, she couldn’t go back to sleep from the excitement now, and the fact that you would be going to Eddie’s later on was making even more excited.

Because she wasn’t invited this time.

You fixed your half ponytail again as you stood in front of Eddie’s apartment door. You chose a different outfit now, jeans, wide leg this time, and a tight crop top white T-shirt, that covers your belly button of course. You had some bunky white sneakers on your feet, and you had done some eyeliner, mascara, and covered a few marks on your face that were here and there. 

The butterflies in your stomach were going wild as you waited for him, hearing the thumping coming closer to the door. Fridays were Eddie’s day off, so it would be just the two of you in his apartment. You doubted on saying yes to this when he invited you over, but you two were friends, it was something normal to do. So why are you still nervous?

The door opened and you looked up to see Eddie smiling down at you and his eyes widened slightly as he looked at you.

“All this for me?” He motioned towards your outfit and you couldn’t help the small smile that came up to your lips as well as a blush spreading on your cheeks, not expecting his praise. He opened his arms for you, raising his eyebrow up, hiding behind his fringe, his hair in a high bun, with some strands falling on his face.

You saw the black shirt, tightening on his chest and biceps as he opened his arms. The guitar pick hanging from his neck, and the black ripped pants on his legs, followed by some combat black boots. You rocked a bit on your heels as you got closer to him, feeling your stomach slowly rising to your throat. He was smirking as he wrapped his arms around you, not too tight, but it was enough to invade you with warmth, and his cologne penetrated your nostrils, making you feel slightly dizzy.

You gulped heavily as you slowly placed your cheek on his chest, feeling the warmth on your skin growing hotter, stiffening all over as his arms pressed onto your shoulders to pull you closer.

“Your arms around me, return my amazing warm hug.” He joked, but he was actually quite nervous about this. He had told you in the last video call that he would like to greet you properly with a hug, and you agreed, after catching your breath a few times, but you did. He felt his heart beat slightly faster as your perfume invaded his sense of smell, noting the sweetness of it, but also the powerful punch to it. 

You raised your arms, feeling them tremble slightly, slowly putting your hands against his waist, almost a brush, not putting pressure on your grip and Eddie shook his head, you could feel over yours, which was making your blush deepen even more as the butterflies in your belly were creating hurricanes and tornadoes from how wild they were flying.

“Your arms, not just your hands. Wrap your arms around me Sweetheart.” You closed your eyes at the vibration on his chest as he talked, taking another deep breath in, guiding your hands towards his back to finally wrap your arms around his waist. He chuckled and finally squished you into him, making you choke up at the sudden gesture, your chest pressing against his harshly, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Eddie, what the fuck–” You choked out with a weak voice and he finally pulled away, laughing at your reaction as you took many deep breaths to get your lungs to decompress again.

“That’s a guy friend hug for you. Come on, I’ll prepare us some nice drinks, and guess what!” He said excitedly as you walked into his apartment, the blush still spread on your cheeks as you held your chest. 

“What?” He pointed towards the coffee table in front of the couch, and there you saw the bowl of Nachos and different smaller bowls that contained salsas and dip sauces. Your face lit up as you rushed towards to sit on the couch, grabbing onto one chip and dipping it into the Guacamole he prepared, taking it with one big bite. If there was something you really loved, it was Guacamole, because it was fresh, yet rich in flavor. It was perfect.

Eddie was biting his bottom lip as he saw your eyes close in delight and he almost choked on his saliva as a soft moan vibrated on your throat. He wasn’t ready for that. He really was not prepared for that sound. It caught him completely by surprise and now it was something he won’t be able to erase from his head anytime soon. 

“Good?” He asked and you opened your eyes to smile at him, still chewing on the chip, nodding your head excitedly. He chuckles at your response, happy with it, and heads over to grab some beers from the fridge, taking off the caps with a bottle opener that is magnetized to the fridge itself. He returned to you, sitting right beside you as he handed the bottle to you.

“Oh!” You hurriedly swallowed your chip as you raised the bottle to cheer. “I will cheer because today I was able to buy coffee from a shop that has a working… male barista.” You say proudly with a smile on your face and Eddie’s turns into shock, mouth falling agape at you.

“Seriously?” He asked and you smiled at him, nodding excitedly, repeating the same steps you did as when you told Robin about it. He was amazed by you, really, slowly becoming confident, in the way you talk, dress, and most importantly, you are confident in being yourself. You don’t change your way of speaking, or your topics, or what you like just to fit in. This is what mattered the most. “Well, fuck sweetheart, congratulations to that!” 

You both cheered with a clink of your bottles and instantly started to dig away onto the chips. Eddie was mesmerized at how you could work from home, because it would allow you to do many things whenever you have a few minutes to spare, and he was right. You often cleaned the house, or played on your Switch.

“Please tell me you play Mario Kart.” He said and you smirked at his words, finding out that he too owns a switch. So that was quickly plugged in, and the matches began, one after the other, Eddie choosing Mario, while you chose Peach. 

You won every game.

“This is rigged. It’s absolutely rigged.” He exclaims, putting his controller on the table with a loud thud as he sipped on his beer with an angry frown on his face, while you wore a wide smile on yours, putting the controller on the coffee table too. 

“I am just better than you in this.” You say cockily, catching him by surprise but it was indeed something you are confident in, so he will accept you being a brat for now. He sighed, shaking his head.

“I beat my brother every time, and he is like a major video game nerd. Always gets mad that this is something he can’t beat me at.” He laughs as he slumps back against the couch and you stare at him, deciding to take off your shoes, to be able to sit and turn to look at him, propping your feet up on the couch, right under you, almost in a kneeling position.

“You mentioned your brother before, also a Lord of the Rings fan.” You say to him and he chuckles, looking at you with a smile to his face. He made an ‘oh’ sound and moved slightly towards you to be able to pull the phone out of his back pocket. 

“A little shit I tell you.” He opened the gallery on his phone and went to look for the photos of last christmas. He found one and smiled as he looked at it, handing the phone to you.

You almost snorted your beer out of your nose as you held Eddie’s phone. Eddie was wearing the ugliest christmas sweater you had ever seen, in the color of greens and reds, reindeers all over it, while the guy next to him, with curly hair as well, but did not share any of Eddie’s facial features, wore a Rudolph sweater, and the nose was lit up. 

“Well, these are… some nice sweaters!” You choke out, and he took the phone back, laughing from your reaction as he put his phone onto the table again.

“Yeah, his mom bought them for us.” He replied and that caught your attention. His mom. Not their mom. He noticed how you tilted your head at the word and he straightened up, looking at you. “My parents have been gone since I was 10. My uncle Wayne took me in, and it was just the two of us, living in a small trailer in Hawkins. Poor man had to sleep on a pull out bed in the living room so I could have my own room.” He said with a soft chuckle as he looked at his rings, playing with them as a bit of nerves filled his voice.

Talking about his past was not something he ever liked doing, but in order to strengthen his relationship with you, he knew that this conversation was coming at some point. He was glad he had alcohol to do it, even if the story of his life didn’t end as tragically as he thought it would. 

“Bet he took good care of you.” You comment and Eddie simply nodded at that, a small smile appearing in his lips.

“Yeah, I was a son of a bitch though. In order for some bills to be paid, I sold drugs at school, you know just your friendly metal head weed dealer.” You looked down at that, not because of disappointment of him, but to know that he had it that rough in his teenage years was making your chest feel some kind of pressure that you were not enjoying. 

“Sometimes people have to do things in order to survive.” You said this time and he smiled, taking your soft gesture at not making a big deal out of his past. He looked up at you with a smile to his face now, almost excitedly.

“But, when I was at a gig, playing with my band, I invited my Uncle and he showed up with a lady friend called Claudia. After that, they started dating, and I met my step brother, Dustin.” He positioned himself to begin talking with his hands from the excitement he was feeling and you were mesmerized by how entranced you were with him. “I mean, he is a nerd! Like me! Star Wars, Lord of the rings, Star Trek, Lost, The Walking Dead… We became inseparable just like that.” 

You were smiling as you listened to him, he just seemed so happy about his family, about the person he is now, how despite it all he is still himself, not letting his circumstances change him or what he likes. 

“You were in a band?” You asked him and he nodded at you, a small glint of sadness shining in his eyes for a second.

“Yeah, as you can see, I play guitar.” He said to you and motioned to one corner, where one electric guitar stood, a red one, and then next to it was an acoustic one. You nodded with an ‘oh’. “Apart from your job, what do you do?” You turned to him and frowned slightly as you thought about that. 

You didn’t really have any hobbies, you just like to read, watch movies, play on your Switch every now and then, maybe baking sometimes when you feel inspired to do so, and now you feel a certain sense of embarrassment washing you over because of how boring you actually are. Think you are. You gazed down at your beer and fumbled with it with your fingers, clearing your throat.

“I– Uh… Don’t really do anything. I was as interesting as a slug, you know. Trying to just lay low, never really took an interest in anything.” Well that was depressing. Letting those words come out of your mouth, realizing that the person in front of you had a very exciting life, was slowly making you feel like curling into a ball and just staying there. Your brain was starting to work, and it began whispering things you didn’t want to hear, not with him.

‘You’re so boring, you should go.’

‘Why is he even friends with someone like you?’

“It’s okay to not have any interests. Better than having forced ones put on you.” You hear Eddie say as you look up to see him shooting a caring smile at you, your mind simply shutting off as you stared at him. “Steve for example, he was pushed to be captain of the Basketball team, Swimming Team, Soccer team… All because his parents wanted him to be the little star.” Eddie scoffed at that, shaking his head as he looked towards the living room.

“Really? And he didn’t want to do that?” You ask and Eddie simply laughs and shakes his head.

“Fuck no. Steve, believe it or not, fucking loves cooking. That guy can cook us a five star meal, out of thin air. He can make chicken nuggets taste like they were done by Gordon Ramsey himself.” You giggle at that, feeling your nerves slowly leaving your body as he talks to you.

“I have to try that, see if what you’re saying is true.” He laughs at that, and nods, taking a chip, dipping it into the Sour Cream and crunching on it. 

“Yeah, ‘nd Billy? Billy was an asshole to Steve and I in high school. Also pushed over by his father to be the best of the school. Worse than Steve.” His expression turned sour at that, his smile falling as he looked at his beer. “When Steve and I found him on the street, with a concussion in his head… I think that’s when we decided we would take Billy with us, out of Hawkins.” 

You were stunned to hear the story of these three men you met no more than a month ago, in the weirdest circumstance of all. You saw them almost naked, thinking that those three men would just be the snarkiest, or most flirtatious people you would ever meet, but there is always more under the skin, under the flesh, under any layer they had created to prevent from being hurt again.

“And… How did you… get the jobs you have now?” You asked him and he turned to you with a playful smile on his face. 

“The first time we stepped on Indianapolis we got drunk, and went straight to a strip club, a female strip club. We were amazed by the amount of money they were getting on their thongs, like, I’m talking about thousands! We just looked at eachother and wondered if we had the power to do something like that… Turns out, we did.” He took a sip of his beer and got up to go fetch two new bottles as you put your empty one on the coffee table, taking hold of a chip.

“So, it’s not like a job you regret having.” You say to him and you hear him chuckle as two caps clinked onto the counter. He walked back towards you, handing you your third bottle of the night as he sat back next to you.

“Nah. It’s still work, and it pays really well, and you can also meet the strangest, yet greatest of people there too.” He says clinking his bottle on yours and you feel a blush coming up to your cheeks at that, smiling softly at him. His eyes were fixed on you, as you smiled and took a sip out of your bottle.

You are peeling your layers, one by one, slowly but surely becoming the person you probably always wanted to be, letting yourself be happy, and this goes beyond the talking to men thing. This was you finally having some confidence in yourself. Believing that you dressed nice, that you did your make up right, that you did your hair with confidence and you felt pretty in all of it. 

Eddie was sure he was watching a butterfly coming out of their cocoon. 

He cleared his throat and your eyes focused on him again as he shook his head to drive his attention away from you, just for a second. You tilted your head as you waited for him to talk, and after an ‘ah’ from his part, which made you giggle, he continued.

“So, let’s tackle the next scenario… What do you do on a date?” He asks you and you immediately straighten up, noticing the slight happy dizziness the alcohol was doing in your brain but you were still very much conscious, but your blood flow was betraying you, making you blush all over.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, actually wanting him to be more specific, and he maneuvered his body to sit while facing you, just like you were doing with him.

“Well, what do you talk about? Do you know how to make a move?” You were supposed to make moves yourself? You slowly shook your head at him and he sighed at you. “Well, for example, on a date, you talk about very superficial stuff. Work, movies, food, music. That’s really the basic stuff.” You were mentally taking notes of that with a nod to your head.

“So, no talks about… politics, family, religion?” You ask him and he laughs at you, his dimples dipping into his cheeks and you felt the burning on your ears again as you saw his smile while he shook his head.

“No. And nothing deep either… A little bit of what we just did now, but less intimate. I ask about your workplace, you ask about mine. You ask about my hobbies, I ask about yours. Keep it simple and short, maybe throw a little funny story here and there about stuff.” You raised your eyebrow at that, confused by what he might mean.

“A funny story?” You ask him and he nods at you.

“Like, for example, when I asked you about your friends and you told me about Robin and the Raccoon, which it’s still very funny to imagine it till this day.” He says with a chuckle and you follow him with a giggle, catching onto what he was saying. 

“Got it, funny works.” He nods at that, and you feel him getting closer to you.

“Alright, now… Normally, on dates, the men do not make any physical moves to show interest. That’s the lady’s job. If we are already engaging in a conversation with you, we are already interested, we are as simple as that… But a woman, you have to let us know you are interested, and that is all done with body language.” He finished and you were just blinking, almost wide eyed as he stared right back at you.

“B-Body language?” You ask him and he immediately laughs at your reaction, shaking his head.

“I’m not talking about pouncing on the guy. Look, I’m gonna touch you, okay?” He says this time and that for some reason sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt uncomfortable so you moved your legs a bit as he scooted closer. “Okay, so, one common move is laughing and placing your hand on the bicep.” 

“Oh, I’ve seen that in a movie! Wait, that actually works?” You ask tilting your head slightly and he smiles at you, nodding his head.

“Like a charm. You just–” He made a funny laugh, sort of a Santa Claus one, making you laugh as well as he moved back and then forward again, putting his hand on your left bicep, running his fingers down for just one second and pulling back again. You felt the area where he touched grow hot, and you bit your bottom lip at how easy he was making this look. “You touch for a second, do not linger more than that, because that would be too obvious, or too desperate.” 

“Oh? I mean, isn’t the whole idea of it for guys to know that I am interested though?” You asked and he nodded slightly to then shake his head afterwards.

“Yes and no. It’s confusing, but we do like a little bit of a chase. If we get it too easily, our interest kind of… fades away.” You grimaced at his words, showing him a look of slight disgust. 

“And you guys say we are the complicated ones.” You say, taking a sip of your beer and he widens his eyes, looking at you, putting his arm along the backrest of the couch, towards you. 

“Hey, we are very simple! In many, many aspects, sweetheart.” You were still facing him, biting onto the inside of your left cheek, trying to hide the smirk as you squinted at him.

“Like what? Throwing big rocks into a lake and rate the splash?” You ask as your left hand starts to slowly creep up on the back rest, without him noticing, a laugh vibrating in his throat at your words.

“Exactly, we just like a little bit of a struggle, that’s all. It makes the tension grow between you and your date.” He explained and your fingers found their way onto his right forearm which were still resting onto the backrest towards you. You hummed at that, taking a sip of your beer.

“But, wouldn’t you risk losing the date? What if you take too long and don’t give in in time?” You ask him as your fingers start to trace onto his bat tattoo, still looking at him. Your heart was beating with excitement as you saw him shiver slightly but was still not realizing you were touching him at all.

“We always give in, it’s at the third move that–'' He shivered again and his eyebrows knitted together as he felt the tingling sensation on his forearm. He looked at it and saw you passing your nails on his tattoos, and his belly twisted, simply and aggressively twisted. His intestines were knotting with each other and he was sure his brain short circuited. You were touching him. You were deliberately touching him, flirting with confidence, and you made sure he didn’t notice.

How long have you been touching him like that? And why does it feel so good when it’s just your nails brushing against his skin, tracing the drawings that were inked on him, and you weren’t even batting an eye at that. He slowly turned to look at you, and that’s when he saw your amused face, biting on your tongue as you smiled at him. A laugh started coming up on his throat, as his nerves flew away from his fingers.

“Shit, that was smooth Princess.” And to his dismay, you put your hand away, taking a sip of your beer. He was still staring at your movements, completely entranced. He was feeling his heart about to burst and he looked down at his beer, deciding this would be the last one for the night. Yep. It would be the last one.

“Thank you, I saw it on Friends.” You say with a wiggle of your eyebrows and he finally let out a cackle, amazed that you tried on a move from a tv show on him, and that it actually worked. He was slightly flustered and maybe that had to do with the alcohol in his system as well.

Your laughing slowly faded away as you looked down at your beer. The dread of the possibilities of what would happen after a move being made could trigger. Possibilities you weren’t sure if you’ve done right. Things you don’t know if you ever did, and what if it were done to you? 

“Okay, what’s going on in that head of yours now?” Eddie asks, slightly worried at the change of expressions you just had. Were you regretting something? Maybe touching him? 

“What if it goes well?” Was your simple question. Eddie blinked at that, not fully understanding what you were asking.

“What if… what goes well?”

“I-I mean, what if– What if the date goes well? What if–” You were a blushing mess, almost sweating as you tried to word your thoughts out without sounding like a child, without sounding pathetic, looking everywhere but his face. But Eddie’s eyes softened, looking at you, seeing you stammer in your words, trying to let them out of your mouth with no luck, but he knew exactly what you wanted to ask.

“You mean if he kisses you?” Your breath caught in your throat at that and you hid your face into your hands in shame. You’ve kissed before, but was it ever good? Was it enjoyable? Did you do it right? Did they do it right? You knew you didn’t put much effort into them because you just weren’t attracted to the people you’ve kissed, you just wanted the experience to be over with, just like your virginity.

But kissing someone attractive, you’ve never done that.

“Yeah… I mean– I can do it but… I don’t know if I did it right…” You said almost in a whisper, ashamed of your words, of being 25 years old and still worry about your kissing skills. Voicing your worries to a man that’s done more kissing than you did in your whole life, much more, way more. Eddie frowned at your words, and shifted on his seat, raising his hand up to put it under your chin for you to look at him. You slowly locked eyes with his and the feel of his hand on your skin, just made your butterflies flutter all inside of your belly, your head getting lighter at the touch. He smiled gently at you, pulling his hand away.

“Sweets, one thing you have to understand is… Attractive people don’t have superpowers.” He says to you and you frowned at that in confusion, tilting your head to the side while looking at him.

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, just because a person is hot, doesn’t mean they are experts at everything. You can find hot people that are lousy kissers, bad at flirting, horrible at sex, like, finish in two seconds and that’s that. Hot people that are assholes, like certified with a capital A… Just because you find someone attractive, doesn’t mean they have more experience than you, in any way.”

You drank in his words, processing them in your head. You never thought of it like that, not ever. You just thought that people that are attractive have more chances of experiences, and that leads them to have some practice. Eddie was looking at how you were absorbing that information, and he noticed how your shoulders lost their tension, slumping down a bit on your body.

He was feeling the buzz of the beer as he took a sip from it and put it on the coffee table, a warmth expanding on his body as he scooted just one jump closer to you, which made you look at him again.

“I’ll tell you a secret, and you won’t tell them I told you okay?” He starts and you nod slowly at that, straightening up once again to listen to him. He smiled at you and continued. “So, you saw Steve. Fucking handsome right? With that hair, the freckles, fucking lady killer.”

“Y-Yeah.” You nodded slightly at that, feeling the anxiety of admitting Steve was hot not as painful as it once would have been. 

“Yeah, he couldn’t kiss for shit.” Eddie says with a smile and your eyes widened at that, not believing what he was saying. A man like Steve? Not knowing how to kiss?! “You’re looking at me like I’m lying, but I swear I’m not. When we first started working at the club, and Steve kissed clients, they would complain to Joyce that he was too sloppy, too much saliva.”

“Oh god…” You giggle as you take a sip from your beer, wincing in disgust at the thought of a kiss with overloading saliva. Eddie laughed at that, nodding.

“Yep… He was so bummed out because he wanted to be one of the favorites and he knew that if he didn’t kiss he wasn’t going to get it. So… Billy helped.” You spat your drink away from Eddie at that and he started laughing hysterically at your reaction. Your eyes were almost bulging out of your sockets as you listened to that.

“Are you joking!?” He shakes his head at you, still laughing, his shoulders shaking up and down at the motion.

“Fuck no. Imagine my fucking shock when I came in here and I found them making out on the kitchen. It was traumatizing.” He says and your eyes were still like plates as you stared at him. “They aren’t dating if that’s what you are going yo ask, Steve is bisexual but Billy is straight. He just wanted to help Steve.” You blinked rapidly at that, and gave one nod, frowning at that. Friends helped eachother like that?

“So, that makes Billy a good kisser then.” You say and Eddie nods with a shrug.

“That must be, BUT, Billy was very forceful when handling the clients. Pulling their chairs, or turning them, or grabbing their shoulders. He really didn't know how to treat them.” He says and you tilted your head with a surprised ‘oh’ on your lips. Now what Eddie was saying about everyone, despite how they looked, had flaws was making more sense to you.

“So, Steve taught him to be gentle?” You asked and Eddie smirked, shaking his head and pointing at himself.

“Nope. That would be me. I taught him how to pull a chair with force but not a violent one, or how to grab a chin or a shoulder without digging his digits into the skin.” He explains and you were just staring at him, nodding at every word he was saying. You licked your lips as the nerves started forming a lump in your throat, looking down at your bottle of beer which was half empty by now.

“So, that would make you… Flawless?” You try to giggle and Eddie couldn’t help but feel his chest warm at your slight praise, but he was far from what you just said. He shook his head and smiled at you.

“Hell no… I couldn’t dance for shit.” He says to you and you raise your head up in complete surprise. “I didn’t know how to move my hips like Channing Tatum does, and Steve was the one to help with that. You might have noticed that night that out of the three of us, Steve is the one that moves the most.” You shook your head nervously at that, looking at the empty bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“That night is still kinda hazy, but I remember one thing or two.” You were sure you were a deep red now, remembering Steve on his knees as he prayed to Nancy, Billy’s hip grinding against Barb, and Eddie’s kiss and fingers down someone’s throat. 

“So, yeah, we all have flaws, and we all have experience and inexperience.” He finishes saying, looking up at the ceiling, not noticing how you put the beer on the table, sitting up straight now, not facing him, your feet back on the floor as you fumbled with your hands on your knees.

The knots in your belly now turned into painful vines, full of thorns as your body burned in anticipation. You knew this would cross a line, you knew this was a big step, and you knew this was not right, and for some reason, you knew this would be a mistake. 

But, there is also a part of you that knows you want this. And that part is winning over all of the other things that were stopping you.

“S-So… You guys helped each other.” You began talking and he shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling as he rested against the backrest of the couch.

“Yeah, cause we’re friends. It’s what friends do, have each other's back.” You nodded at that, slowly as you gulped down the lump that was forming in your throat and your feet turned cold.

“Friends…” You were almost breathing heavily, your nails digging onto your knees as your heart started beating into your ears, hearing every thump of it as it rapidly made your blood flow to every inch of your body. “A-And… We’re friends… right?”

Eddie’s eyes almost came out of his skull because of how wide he just stared at the ceiling. Were you actually asking him what he thought you were asking? Nah, it couldn’t be possible. It wasn’t real, right? He slowly looked down and you were already looking at him, jumping slightly as he locked eyes with you, making you flinch your gaze away in embarrassment.

He was still trying to understand that what you were asking was real. You wanted his help, but he was fighting with himself because he didn’t want you to think he was taking advantage of you for trusting him. He really didn’t want you to think that. But if you were the one asking… 

“Sweets, are you asking me what I think you are asking me?” He asks, and he wants verbal confirmation, even if it takes you an eternity to say it, he will wait. His chest was hurting from how fast his heart was beating into it, and he wanted to punch it to make it calm down. You were a friend asking for help, he has to get a hold of himself.

“I-It’s stupid, don’t worry, f-forget what I just said!” Your mind was telling you to run away. You crossed the line, you fucked it up. Why would he want to kiss you anyways? You weren’t anything special, just a friend, and he kissed beautiful women almost every night. You were inexperienced, and you would probably fuck it up, completely and he would laugh at you, or what if he winces in disgust at you? What if–

“Darling, darling, darling… Calm down.” You felt his hand on your knee and your eyes looked down to your lap, not realizing that your legs had been jumping up and down uncontrollably. Your breathing was slightly heavy as you shook your head still looking down.

“I-I shouldn’t have– I mean– We’re-We’re friends–” And Eddie wasn’t going to let you belittle yourself. He knew what was coming next, so he stopped your rambling with just his voice.

“Honey, I would be honored to help you with this.”

Your body froze all of its movements. Your legs, your quivering lips, the digging of your nails on your jeans, and even your heart steadied itself, almost non beating. His hand was still on your knee and you saw him pulling it back to himself as he waited for you to reincorporate yourself. 

Did he say honored? Why would he be honored? You have to stop thinking, you have to stop. You need to push the thoughts away, he said he will help you, it’s just that. Help. It doesn’t mean anything else, but a friend helping another friend. Nothing more. It’s nothing more.

You slowly turned your head to face him and he was wearing a soft encouraging smile as he looked at you. He wasn’t going to show his nervousness, and he didn’t even know what he was nervous about. He has kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but you, for some reason, were making his knees tremble slightly, as well as feeling like bending over from the constant knot in his stomach.

“You okay?” He asked you and you were still looking at him, face red as you tried to mumble out words.

“Y-You’re sure you want to… kiss me?” You asked him and his eyebrows turned into a frown at your question. He knew there was more to it than simply asking him if he wanted to kiss a friend to help her. He knew there was something deeper behind those words, something darker.

“Darling, you’re fucking beautiful, I’d be more than honored to kiss you.” He said with a fist pump in the air to try to ease up the tense situation and it seems it worked, because you let out a soft huff, almost a giggle, and he saw your fingers no longer digging on your jeans. He took a deep breath in and positioned himself, sitting next to you, but facing you, crossed legs under him. “Okay, I need you to, first, let yourself go.”

He put his arms out and started shimming all over, just moving all his arms and body erratically as if trying to get a bug away from him. You laughed at his movements and sat in the same position, facing him and shaking yourself to lose the tension on your body, making him laugh at you, scanning you all over for a second as you joined him in the laughter.

This moment right here between you two, was too easy, too natural, and it felt as if it were right, and it had always been destiny that you two should meet. He was enjoying this moment with you, finally something different in his daily life. His calls with you, whenever you show him a new piece of clothing you got for yourself, and it wasn’t only with him.

Steve and Robin talked privately too, but it was as if they were soulmates, long lost souls that should have been together a long time ago. Platonically. He wondered if that was the same with you. If your relationship was platonic of some sort, only focused on it being friendship… And there’s another part of him that wished it wasn’t that.

“Right so… I’m going to start slow, okay? So first things first.” He grabbed your hand gently, pulling it up towards his lips to finally press them against your knuckles. You took a sharp intake of breath at that, feeling him against your skin in this way was something you were not really prepared for. You shivered at his touch, and you felt your belly just yearning for more, your mind no longer wanting to run away. He lingered his lips there, looking at your reaction until you met his eyes again and you took a deep breath in with a nod.

Eddie now knew you were okay with his touch, putting your hand down once again. He licked his lips in anticipation as he looked into your eyes who were looking at him with expectation, waiting for his next move. He raised his hand up towards your right cheek and leaned forward. Your breath completely stopped as you felt your stomach just contract on itself, shutting your eyes tightly and bracing for what he was going to do, until you felt his lips press gently onto your left cheek. 

It was burning your skin almost.

“No need to act so pained about it.” He let out a nervous chuckle out of his lips as he saw your scrunched up face. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you again, and dropping his hand down from your face. “Okay, now, I want you to reciprocate that. Kiss my cheek, I’ll close my eyes so you can be comfortable.” 

When Eddie closed his eyes, you couldn’t help but stare at him. He just looked way too beautiful, untouchable almost, tingles going from the bottom of your neck to the tip of your fingers. Your heart was painfully beating into your chest cavity as you slowly leaned in, keeping your eyes open just to not miss the spot on his left cheek. You had to press your hands on his knees to keep yourself stable as your lips inched closer to his skin.

You held your breath in as you finally pressed your flesh with his, yours soft, plump against a warm cheek that was tinting itself in a pink hue. You let the air leave your lung as you rapidly sat back in place, taking your hands away from his knees. He gulped heavily as he composed himself, opening his eyes to look at you. 

Your eyes were on your lap as you fumbled with your fingers, and he wanted to laugh, almost giggling he could say at how red you were looking. But he wasn’t going to do that, because you were doing good, great even, but now comes the difficult part, one of the few. 

“That was soft sweetheart, thank you.” You almost whined at the praise but because you just felt getting redder and redder from embarrassment and adrenaline. You slowly looked up at him, and you suddenly saw the hint of nervousness cross his features, making your eyebrows twitch in confusion. “Um… Now, I will give you a peck on the lips. You can close your eyes this time, and then I want you to give one back to me, that okay?” 

Oh, your breathing quickened at that. You clenched your fists tightly, closing your eyes as you nodded at him, barely, but he could figure it out. He raised a hand up, and he noticed the particular shakiness at the tip of his fingers, frowning at them because he never twitched. He never trembled. He never got nervous. He held onto your left cheek and you jumped slightly at the touch, not expecting it and you tightened your lips together. He chuckled with a shake of his head.

“Don’t tighten your lips. Relax angel, it’s just me.” He softly says and the way his voice sounds on your ears, make you actually slump a little bit, relax your muscles as well as your lips. He looked down at them, feeling his breathing quicken its pace, but he held those breaths in, trying to not show how he was feeling to you, which he didn’t even know what feelings he was feeling himself. 

He leaned down, pulling your face towards him, slowly and agonizingly. You wanted to open your eyes to see how far he was from you, as your belly just screamed at you to lean closer, but you stayed put. Waiting, and after what felt like ages, in the darkness behind your eyelids, you finally felt his lips connect with yours. A sharp intake of breath was taken on your part due to the shock, and also because of how surprisingly soft he was being. A soft subtle moan vibrated in your throat at the touch and he had to contain the urge to move his lips on yours, wanting to devour you. Your hands itched with the need of grabbing onto him, and it was shocking you because you never felt this. You never felt the need for more. 

Because that’s all you could think about now. More. You wanted more.

He pulled away from you, the peck being only for one or two seconds but to the two of you seemed like minutes. He opened his eyes at the same time you opened yours and he swears that he felt an electric shock run down his body as his pupils connected with yours. Your breaths were mixing with one another, because Eddie was still in your space, noses almost touching.

He pulled away from you, causing you to exhale a deep sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, and he dropped his hand from your cheek. He ignored the lingering burning sensation that was left on his palm as he gazed at you once again, a soft smile spreading on his lips.

“You okay?” He asked you and you could only nod. He chuckled at your reaction and scooted closer, now knees touching. “Alright, your turn.”

Fuck, that made all of your consciousness return to you in one big slap. It was your turn to kiss him. But you could do it right? It was just a peck, just a quick peck. You could do that, it was something fast, just like he did to you. You couldn’t feel your fingers as you raised your hand up to cup his left cheek. You scrunched your eyes closed and leaned in, quick, pulling him as well, but you felt him fight against your grip and you opened your eyes to see him squinting at you.

“What–”

“Slower. If you come at me that fast you are gonna knock our teeth out Angel. Just go slow, no need to be quick.” And there was a part of him that just said that to be able to be in this moment for a little longer. You felt embarrassed at his scolding and you wanted to pull away, feeling completely pathetic and childish for your actions. You took a deep breath in again as you continued to lean in, but this time slower, pulling him towards you in the same manner, gentler and he was content with that.

You closed your eyes when your lips brushed his, and he kept them open just before you pressed your lips to his to look at your face. You weren’t scrunching your eyebrows, or grimacing in pain or discomfort, so he knew you were okay right now. He closed his eyes after a second and you just wanted to stay there. Your lips on his, as your palm rested on his cheek, your nails wanting to dig in his flesh to pull him even closer.

You didn’t know if this would feel like this with every man you would kiss later on, you hoped it did. You hoped this wasn’t just happening with Eddie, because he is just a friend. That’s all he was. A friend helping another friend.

You pulled away after another second, dropping your hand from his face and this time you didn’t gaze towards your lap again. You kept staring at his face, waiting for his eyes to open, your chest now burning for the next move. 

His brown eyes connected with yours again, and he smiled reassuringly at you, as if telling you that you were doing good, that everything was fine, and that you were safe with him at this very moment. You took a deep breath in, giving him a small smile in return, feeling your cheeks aching thanks to the amount of blood that is pooled there.

“Alright… Next is the tricky part. I’m going to move my lips against yours this time. When I kiss your top lip, you kiss my bottom lip, and then the other way around.” You know how kissing works, you’re not an idiot. You have done it before just the way he describes it, but the question always lingered if you were any good at it. If you were too pushy, or too soft, or too slow, or too quick. 

You took a deep breath in to brace yourself, and exhaled, giving him a nod for him to continue. Now, Eddie was almost sweating. He didn’t want to feel that way towards you, but he was still a man, and you were beautiful. A very beautiful woman. So of course his body will react, he just has to remind himself that you are just a friend and that you need help. 

And he is just helping. 

He raised both of his hands up this time and your eyes almost went wide when he cupped your face in between them, getting a sense of feeling trapped but in a good way. The coldness of his rings and the warmth of his palms filled you with a sense of peace. You felt safe. You started hearing a buzz in your ears, knowing it was the intense flow of blood that was going all over your body, as the anxiety in your stomach was almost ripping its way out, wanting to break your skin, or wanting to crawl up into your throat. 

“Lean in with me sweetheart.” He commanded and your eyes were burning, your hands moving towards his knees again, trembling fingers finding the skin in the rips of them, your breathing hitching as you both moved towards one another, his fingers softly getting in between your hair, palms on your cheeks still and you closed your eyes.

He took a gulp, closing his eyes right after you, feeling your nails digging into the skin of his knees, softly scratching at him, almost desperately and he didn’t know if you were eager or nervous, but you were leaning in, and that was a good enough sign for him to press his lips against yours again, this time, with more pressure than before.

Your heart soared, beating wildly but not because of complete nervousness or because you wanted to run away from it, but because you were content. Content because you weren’t sweating out of a panic, content because you didn’t feel like fainting, content because the dizziness you were feeling was because of the rush, the adrenaline, the excitement of it all. 

His lips finally moved on yours, and you let your instincts kiss him back, following his lead. He was being gentle, slow, lips between lips and the smacking of them being heard all over the apartment. Your fingers were gripping on his knees as if your life depended on it, to keep you grounded to earth. There was a part of your brain that was telling you that friends shouldn’t do this, that friends do not kiss each other, not even for practice. 

But maybe those thoughts were wrong, because here you were, and Eddie’s self control was slipping. He wanted to move to the next step, but he wanted to properly warn you, he really wanted to, but with the way you were touching him, and the way you were tenderly moving your lips with his, was slowly but surely making him lose his composure of being a good friend. 

He had to be quick then, because you seemed into it, and if you stopped you might become nervous again and it will take more time for you to prepare yourself. He kept moving his lips on yours, your heads moving from side to side and you felt like you were being kissed like they do in the movies. Romantical and gentle. But something was slowly snapping inside of you, something that was clawing its way back in your throat.

More. You wanted more.

He pulled away but his hands were kept in place, his lips remained over yours as the heavy breathing of each other mixed in between you both. You opened your eyes to meet his, and he saw the hazy look in your eyes, the same look he must be having right now, and you might not even know how you are looking at him, but he knows how he is looking at you. And it was different, different than before. Way different.

“I’m gonna go further now, stop me if you’re uncomfortable.” Before you could even formulate any sentence, think of anything at all, his lips crashed against yours, this time, more forcefully than before, and it shot another feeling inside of you. It was something you didn’t experience before, something that made you magnetized to him, and you cannot pinpoint what name to give it.

You moved your lips against his, following his movements, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise when you felt his tongue brush against your lower lip, gently, asking for entrance. This was the part where your inexperience might show, and you didn’t want to disappoint him, not when he was making you feel like this, not when he was the first person to kiss you like this.

You felt him rub your right cheek gently with his thumb, trying to soothe you down, telling you that you can still stop him. But you wanted anything but that. So despite your guts trying to make you bend over in pain, despite your brain throwing red signs all over to make you run away, and despite your heart beating so fast you were sure he would be able to hear it, you slowly opened your mouth, letting him in.

And he was so grateful for it.

His tongue slowly sneaked in between your lips, meeting with your nervous tongue. He moved, gentle and slow, small swirls which you danced with him harmoniously. He let out a huff of breath through his nose, trying to swallow a grunt because your hands had gone up to grip onto his thighs now, pulling yourself closer to him, and deeper into the kiss.

You were a good kisser, even in your nervousness, even if you told him you didn’t know if you were even doing it right, you smashed all of that in one second. One of his hands went deeper into your scalp, running his fingers through your hair as he felt the temperature of the room start to rise up. Your tongue was magical on him, so tender and delicate, yet he could hear the soft little moans that vibrated in your throat at every harsh movement he did on you. He could feel his pants starting to strain, and he cursed himself for being so easy to rile up, or maybe cursing at himself for wanting to–

The door opening caught both of your attention, your eyes widening as you both pulled away as quickly as you could. Panting heavily as you looked at one another, not even knowing for how long you have been making out with each other. It felt like seconds, but probably minutes had passed. 

“Well, shit, did we interrupt something?” Billy asks with Steve standing next to him with a bag over his shoulder. Your whole body turned red and you squealed as you hid your face in your hands, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. They saw you. They saw you kissing Eddie. Your friend. Oh god, what will they think? You thought you were an idiot, a very big idiot.

“I uh–” Eddie was at a loss of words and he looked at his friends. He knew you were feeling utterly embarrassed at this moment, so he knew he had to ease the situation up a bit. “We were practicing kissing.” 

And that made you even more embarrassed, your head shooting up to smack Eddie on the arm. Why would he tell them that?! Now they know you have no experience in that department and that Eddie was helping you gain confidence in it. Great. You shook your head, becoming more overwhelmed each second that passed.

“No need to hit me! You are a good kisser, despite what you thought.” Eddie brushed his arm as Billy and Steve walked over to the two of you. You groaned into your hands as you felt the heat of your face transfer onto your palms, and your guts were turning, the feeling of nausea slowly filling your stomach.

“Well, I bet it went better than with Harrington over here.” Billy glared at his friend as Steve blushed all over and pointed at you.

“Dude, she doesn’t need to know about that–”

“Actually…” Eddie begins with an innocent dimpled smile on his face and Steve became red in anger, ready to start going at his best friends but a giggle was heard in the room and they all turned to you.

You were laughing into your hands, and the situation that had mortified you now was making you laugh because of their bantering. They weren’t judging you, not you, nor Eddie because they had been through it. They helped each other out with things that were either weird or too bizarre, yet they did it because they’re friends. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh.” You say, as you raise your head up again, locking eyes with Eddie who had a playful glint in them and both of you laughed with each other, or at each other, you didn’t know, but just having this moment with him felt nice, it felt as if nothing had changed. No awkwardness, no weirdness, nothing that makes you feel uncomfortable, or him for that matter. 

He was still Eddie, and you were still you.

“Alright, hang on, I have a question.” Steve suddenly says, putting the bag with clothes down. He was still sweaty from work, his hair back with a small half ponytail. Eddie and you stopped laughing and looked at Steve to keep talking. “My question is, are you fine with kissing someone you trust, or are you fine with kissing men in general?” Your smile dropped at that, the thought being processed in your head.

You didn’t even think about that. What if kissing Eddie was easy, or kind of easy, because you trusted him? What if you were able to just because you can confide that part of yourself to him, because he is your friend? Will that happen with the men you meet?

“What Steve is trying to say is that when you go on a date, you don’t trust each other on the first one, but you might kiss, maybe something else.” He said with a wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a glare from Eddie’s part, and you gazed away from that dirty joke. 

Steve stood there for a second, thinking and then he took out his phone to open his music player and choose a song from there. ‘Stereo Love’ started sounding from the speakers and you winced at the nostalgia of the song, Eddie chuckling at it and Billy simply rolling his eyes. Steve puts the phone on the coffee table and urges you to get up from the couch. 

“Come on, let’s try something.” And you gave Eddie a confused look before doing as Steve says, following him to the middle of the living room as Billy took your place on the couch, dropping himself on it and grunting in relief. Eddie’s eyes were focused on you as you stood in front of Steve.

“Harrington, what are you–” Eddie tried to talk but he was stopped by one look from Steve. His chest was not liking where this was going but he remained quiet as Steve started swaying side to side.

“Okay, so, I imagine that you go to clubs, and guys approach you, right?” He asks and you look down, playing with your fingers as you talk back to him.

“The girls always pushed them away before they could talk to me.” You reply and Steve only scoffs at that and shakes his head. He dances all around you, on your side, behind you, on the other side, as he talks.

“Well, now you will let them talk to you. He is a complete stranger, just coming right up, dancing, and introducing himself.” He stops right in front of you, with a smirk to his face and your eyes slightly widened as his friendly expressions were exchanged by sultry ones. “Do you like this song?”

“Um, a little old but yes, I do.” You responded to him and he just kept the grin to his face as his movements started making him come closer, and closer to you.

“Hi, I’m Steve.” You were already blushing at the roleplaying but he was right, what will happen when you start trying to date someone? You won’t kiss them on the first date? You won’t show your attraction to them? You won’t make a move? 

“Hi, I’m Angel.” You reply with a small smile on your lips and Eddie’s eyes widened. You were flirting, and you were flirting with Steve with a pet name he gave you, and you only. He gulped heavily as you swayed closer to him.

“That’s a very pretty name, just as gorgeous as the bearer of it.” He winks at you and you almost lose your willpower at that. With Eddie was different, way different. It was a different type of nervousness, a different type of adrenaline, a different type of excitement. This was just nervousness.

So maybe, Steve was right. 

Before you could respond, Steve’s lips crashed onto yours, and Billy was studying your body language. You went rigid, frozen, eyes completely wide at the action. He could see the slight bit of paleness starting to drain your cheeks and he was about to call out Steve to pull away, but then your eyes closed, and your lips moved against his.

You noticed the difference with Eddie’s kiss. With Eddie’s, your mind shut off, didn’t even think about anything else and just let yourself feel, feel him, feel his lips on yours, his skin on yours. And now, Steve’s, you were conscious of how your lips were moving, and wondering if you were causing an impression or not.

Steve pulled away after a few seconds to study your face and do a whole check over, before cheering with delight and clapping for you with pride.

“You kissed me back, you didn’t faint, you flirted with me… Yep, you’re cured honey!” Steve says excitedly and you couldn’t help but feel excited with him. It was a big step, a huge change in your life. Even if the nerves were still there, the anxiety was still deep in your belly, and the thoughts sometimes appeared in your head to speak horrible things to you, you finally didn’t let them control your body.

You were finally cracking your shell open.

And as you cheered, you didn’t notice the pair of brown eyes that were looking at you.

“Munson… You’re going to break the cushion.” Billy says, without even looking at Eddie and the metal head looked down at the cushion of the couch, seeing his fist gripping tightly onto it, almost ripping through the fabric, his knuckles a bright shade of white from how hard he was clenching them, rings digging into his fingers. He also noticed the tense movements on his jaw and he realized that he had been clenching it tightly shut since Steve pressed his lips on yours.

Your lips that had his minutes before. Your tongue that danced with him, your body that touched him, his hands that were on you, your body heat invading his, and his jagged breaths invading your mouth. He had you first. 

You were his, first.

You turned to look at Eddie, with a smile on your face and he tried to return the smile to you, fighting the uncomfortable feeling that was happening in his belly, trying to push away all the negative thoughts, but then he remembered the look in your eyes just before he leaned in to kiss you again. He was looking at you in the exact same way, and hope rose in his chest, because the eyes you were looking at him with, were full of lust.

And you might not even know or realize you were looking at him like that. You probably never once felt lustful towards someone. You probably never had that need of wanting someone so badly that you might explode.

But Eddie, Eddie was feeling it right now. He was feeling it alright, and had been feeling it ever since he saw you in that tight purple dress. He felt it when you smiled at him for the first time on video camera. He felt it when you introduced him to your favorite pizza. He felt it when you beat him up in Mario Kart. He felt it when you had called him beautiful. And now, he felt it when he finally had a taste of you.

Oh how he wanted you. 

Eddie really, absolutely, desperately wanted you.

End of part 4

A/N: I really do hope you all enjoyed this chapter, your comments always make me happy... we can all feel the tension building, can't we? Just a peek, next chapter will be spicy.

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[usomads]

All-Inclusive // Jimmy Uso x Reader

Author’s Note -> Ahhhh I love this one 🤭 Been working on this for a bit so I hope y’all like it! Also: I’m thinking about making a tag list for my stories… is that something y’all would be interested in? Lmk and as always, happy reading! 

Plot -> You knew being at an all-inclusive suite included everything like drinks, food, etc., but you didn’t know you’d find yourself getting even more.

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Fingering, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Choking, P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.8k

“A closet full of clothes, and yet I never know what to wear to these things,” you muttered to yourself, sifting through hangers trying to find something you could work with. Articles of clothing scattered the floor around you as you stood frustrated, trying to throw something halfway decent together. It was always like this for these events, you always knew exactly how to do your hair and makeup but for some reason the outfit was something you could never figure out. You and your boyfriend, Jonathan, were going to a WWE Premium Live Event, and since he wasn’t booked for this card you decided to get a suite with some other wrestlers and their spouses to watch it. Well, maybe, if you could find something to wear.

“Baby!” Jon calls from downstairs, “we gotta go! We’re gonna be late, you almost ready?” He makes his way to you in the closet, noticing you were still trying to get yourself together.

“Go ahead, I’ll head there in a bit. Still tryna find an outfit,” you sighed, clearly annoyed at yourself. Jon wraps his arms around your waist from behind and plants a kiss to your cheek. “Alright, baby girl, just don’t take too long, okay? I know Bianca and Jade are dying to see you, it’s been a minute since y’all been together.”

“I know, I know, I’ll be right behind you, I promise,” you smiled at him as he gave you another kiss and left for the arena, while you went back to sorting through your closet. After about 10 minutes of staring at the same clothes on hangers you were close to texting Jon to let him know it wasn’t happening tonight, when something caught your eye. A black silk button up was nearly hidden behind all the other clothes hanging up, but you saw it. And it would go perfect with this new skirt I bought too. Grabbing it from the rack, you were able to get a closer look. It was for sure oversized, and you were trying to remember where you could’ve gotten it from. It didn’t matter anyways, because you were already throwing it on along with the new skirt and a simple pair of black heels. You made your way to the full-length mirror in your closet, adjusting the buttons on the top to tease your cleavage modestly, but enough to make them noticeable. Giving yourself one last up-down in the mirror, you were satisfied. More than satisfied, actually, you looked stunning. You shook your head and laughed, the annoyance and stress of the past hour and a half feeling silly now that you had finally found something to wear and it paid off. You grab your phone off the dresser and call a driver to come get you, grabbing a small bag to take with you as you head downstairs and out the door.

“Y/N, oh my god, girl! You finally made it!” Bianca yelled excitedly as her and Jade ran to the door of the suite to greet you. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you,” Bianca gave you a strong hug and rocked the two of you back and forth, “how have you been?!”

“It’s been too damn long!” Jade exclaimed, “and can I just say… you look hot. Jon said you were having wardrobe issues and, honey, looking at you I just don’t think that’s true,” the three of you laughed.

“No, seriously, I was! I damn near canceled because I couldn’t find anything, but finding this top hidden in the back of the closet saved it. I don’t even remember where I got it honestly, I don’t normally buy stuff this oversized but, hey, I guess my forgetfulness finally came in clutch,” you chuckled. 

“And did, you look incredible, babe. Now c’mon, let’s go mingle with everybody!” Bianca and Jade locked your guys’s arms as the three of you hopped around from group to group in the suite, chatting with some new faces and some you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Your eyes tried searching for your boyfriend, but you couldn’t seem to find him anywhere so you assumed he had gone to the restroom or maybe was notified he had to do something for the show last minute and shrugged it off. After a while though, you had to pee so you excused yourself from the group and walked across the hall to the restrooms. You did your business and washed your hands, drying them and making your way back to the suite. You opened the bathroom door to be greeted by your boyfriend.

“Oh, hey, babe! I was just looking for you, where have you be-,” you were cut off by Jon stepping into the restroom with you, pinning you against the wall and locking the door behind him. You gasped as your back collided with the hard surface behind you as Jon stared down at you with an intensity you had never seen before. His eyes trailed down your body to take in what you were wearing, coming back up and staring directly at the shirt you were wearing. 

“I see you found my shirt,” he growled, and your memory clicked in from a week prior. ***FLASHBACK***

“Babe! Have you seen my button up? The silk one my mom got me a while back?” Jonathan shouted from the bedroom as you were applying your lipstick, getting ready for date night. “Um, no I don’t think so… did you check the laundry?” 

“Yeah, it’s not in there, can’t find it. I’ll just wear something else, don’t worry about it!”

***END FLASHBACK***

“I- I thought it was mine, I found it in the back of my closet. I’m sorry…” you muttered, nervously, not wanting him to be mad at you for “stealing” his shirt. “Oh, baby, I’m not mad,” Jon paused, lowering his head closer to your trembling lips, “but if you’re really sorry…” he inches closer, his breath fanning over your cheeks as his lips brush yours, “then show me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in, closing the distance between you. He kissed you with a desire you had never seen from him before, hungrily brushing his tongue against yours as he asserted his dominance over you. His fingers worked on the buttons of your (his) shirt, but left the clothing sitting on your shoulders as the cool air conditioning hit your nipples, hardening them instantly. You shuddered at the feeling, as his hands hiked your shirt up and kneaded your ass as he planted kisses along the base of your neck. “You know… I love it… when you wear my shirts… so fuckin’ sexy.” You moaned as his lips drifted down your neck and to your chest, as his hands fondled your waist and inched closer to your growing wetness. The tips of his fingers teased the front of your panties, toying with the material as you bucked your hips desperately for any sort of friction. “Patience, baby, imma give it to you,” you weren’t listening, too consumed in your neediness for him, and continued to squirm underneath him. You’re snapped out of your trance by Jon pinning your arms above your head and growling in your ear. “What I say, huh? Keep still ‘fore I give you somethin’ to squirm about, and you ain’t gonna like it.” You whimper and nod in response, trying to hold it together as you fight every urge to act on your own desperation. Jon holds your wrists above your head with his left hand, using the right to slide your panties to the side and dive his fingers into your wetness. You trembled, sighing and throwing your head back to hit the wall as his digits caressed your dripping folds. He was torturing you, edging his fingers closer and closer to your entrance but never slipping inside, instead opting to watch your face twist and contort at the way a simple touch from him had you so riled up. He loved the way your breathing would stagger as he teased you and watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, giving into his touch. 

“Mmm, baby please,” you cried, the sounds of your whines echoing around you. “You sorry, hmm?” He teased, brushing his thumb across your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. “Y-yes, fuckk baby, I’m so- I’m sorry,” you hissed.

“You gonna have to be more convincing than that” You whined loudly at his response, turning into a loud and dragged out moan as he slipped a finger inside. Your pussy immediately tightened around it, squeezing it as he pumped in and out of you. Your eyes rolled into your skull as he carefully worked his magic on you. Your fingers gripped onto the blazer he was wearing, trying to cling onto anything as he drove you further into pure, unadulterated bliss. His finger picked up pace and glided deeper and deeper inside you, brushing against the soft padding of your g-spot as he curled it. You felt yourself stretch around him again with the addition of a second finger, your walls spasming around both digits as he mercilessly thrusted his fingers inside of you. 

“O-oh my god, Jon I-, I’m so c-close,” you moaned as his lips found their way back to your neck again. “Hold it. You’re not cumming ‘til I say you can, got me? Now tell me how sorry you are.”

“I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so so sorry. Now please, I’m gonna-”

“Uh uh, not sorry enough. Get on your knees and convince me.” He withdrew his fingers from you faster than you anticipated, nearly making your knees give out in the process, but you obeyed him like the good girl you were. You dropped to your knees in an instant, hands immediately grabbing for his belt and zipper, as you worked quickly to free him from the constraints of his pants. You could tell from the prominent bulge that lined his boxers he was painfully hard as you palmed him, Jon letting out a low groan and instinctively grinding himself into your hand. “Fuck baby, don’t tease. You know ion like that shit.” You pulled down his boxers to reveal his cock and salivated at the sight; the veins along his shaft prominent as his length twitched upon release from its imprisonment. You looked up at the man who stood before you, his eyes darkened and glazed over with lust as he watched you coat his dick in your saliva before taking his tip in your mouth. You sucked lightly and gave kitten licks to him, knowing how sensitive his head was and watching as he threw his head back in ecstasy and released your name from his lips in low moans. Your mouth worked its way down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks as you took him inch by inch, his hands grasping your hair as you took as much of him as you could.

“Mmm, fuck ma, lemme fuck that pretty lil mouth of yours. Always so good for me.” You gave a slight nod, relaxing your jaw and opening your mouth more as his hips made slow and steady movements. You gagged on him, but focused on the breathing from your nose as he drilled himself into your throat. Tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to spill onto your cheeks as he continued to thrust faster and faster, making you gag on him more and more. “You love it when I use your pretty little mouth like this, hmm? How sorry are you now?” You moaned around him as he showed no mercy on your throat and gripped your hair, and watching his face told you he was reaching the edge. Surprisingly, he released himself from your mouth with a pop and helped you up, still dizzy from the assault his cock was performing on your mouth. 

“I still don’t think you’re that sorry, you wanna prove it to me? Hop up on this counter and spread your legs for me, pretty girl, imma fuck you ‘til I believe it.” You hopped on the counter of the bathroom sink and opened yourself to him completely, letting him see your glistening folds aching and ready for him. He pumped himself a few times before lining himself up and slamming into you, giving you no room to adjust to him as he ruthlessly pounded into you and had you screaming his name. His hand quickly met your mouth, covering it to keep you quiet as he leaned in and started fucking deeper into you. You were seeing stars, moaning into his hand and raking your nails across his shoulders as he drove into you at an unforgiving pace. 

“Shit, Y/N, so fuckin’ tight f’me. Fit me like a fuckin’ glove. Can’t get enough of this pussy, baby,” he moaned, continuing his fast-paced thrusts. “You wanna tell me how sorry you are now, baby girl? You think you’re sorry enough for me to let you cum?” He removed the hand covering your mouth and brought it down to your clit, rubbing slow circles into the sensitive bud.

“H-holy s-shit, mmm, fuck baby I- I’m s-sorry! I’m sorry I-, oh my god, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby,” you cried, “p-please believe me, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna-” “You think you deserve it, hmm?” He wraps his hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you let out a strangled moan. “Go ahead baby, you think you deserve this nut?”

“Y-yes, ohh fuck, yes I deserve it. B-been so good f-f’you.” You choked out, consumed completely in Jon and the pleasure he was providing you.

“You’ve been such a good girl… you really are sorry, huh?” You nodded frantically, letting soft moans fall off your lips. “Let go, baby, cum all over this dick f’me. Lemme see you.”

The orgasm that erupts from the pit of your stomach is explosive enough to make supernovas look small in comparison. Your body and pussy convulse around him as you scream his name and release yourself on his cock. Your vision goes black as you’re overwhelmed with an intense feeling of pleasure as your juices coat his dick and lower abdomen, squirting all over him. He watches you as you let go, taking in every detail of your mouth agape and chanting his name, the furrow of your brows, your eyes squeezing shut, and most of all your walls constricting around his cock, coaxing him to his own release. He coats your insides with a loud groan, releasing himself completely into your aching pussy as he slowly pistons himself into you to ride out both of you two’s orgasms. Soft moans and pants escape the both of you, coming down from what felt like the most intense release the two of you have shared. You both sat for a moment, evening your breathing and taking the time to fully recover before he pulled out of you and moved your panties back to their rightful position, his cum leaking out of you and soaking them in the process. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and you smiled up at him, softly kissing his lips before jumping down and adjusting yourself in the mirror.

You both desperately tried to cover up the events of what just happened, feeling satisfied and unlocking the door to the restroom before attempting to sneak out, but Bianca being in front of the door stopped you both in your tracks.

“Oh, thank god, I’ve had to pee for the past 30 minutes,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at the both of you, “didn’t know Y/N needed help using the bathroom, Jon.” The two of you blushed, knowing your attempt to hide your escapade had failed miserably. “Now get y’all horny asses inside, you’re lucky they didn’t start filming the live segment in the suite yet, or the TV audience would’ve heard quite the show… now, if you’ll excuse me,” she winked, hurrying past you both as you and your boyfriend exchanged a quick glance before sneaking your way back in the suite.

[fuckyeahmhawkefenris]

MAJOR update

So I don't know if anyone else even cares about this stuff, but I made some huge progress with tagging/retagging things here. For some time I haven't been tagging any posts at all lacking motivation because, seriously, does anyone even look at tags these days?

Still, my love for this ship keeps me going. Maker, I'd forgotten how therapeutic the process is. For a few days I almost stopped dwelling on my own personal issues.

Anyway

Allow me to remind y'all that this blog has a list of TAGS, a rather extensive one. I shudder to think how much time I spent compiling it all, but it does make me happier somehow

We have an impressive collection of fanart, so many comic bits they had to be separated into their own category to make it possible to navigate through all the artwork, writings that I don't think can be found anywhere else. In the beginning this fandom also used to produce a lot of memes and jokes, not so much of it now, but we don't forget our history! There is so much to uncover and rediscover.

I guess that canoodling/hugging/cuddling/snuggling tags are still a mess (always have been) despite my best efforts, but I genuinely tried to make it make sense somewhat. Having 8000+ pieces of art for your ship gets you there. Hard to believe it used to be almost nonexisistent in the beginning. It was so easy to navigate in 2012...

I didn't even try to sort out the comics, and fiction is not tagged either, except for the most basic basics.

Well, if anyone has any better ideas/suggestions don't be shy about @ ing me. Hell, if you can think of any new tags worth adding, let me know. And if you could reply to the relevant posts with it, it'd be fantastic.

If you're bored and don't mind spending some time with Fenris and Hawke, observing them love each other, please take a look at the list. There are also separate pages for the people who make fanart and write stuff for us, so you can always find more of their works by looking up the artists name in the tags. Though this page is forever in progress.

There's always room for improvement, so if you have anything to say, PLEASE SAY IT.

Also, the pornstash is up again, and now there is some semblance of a system.

It is a members-only blog, since almost all of its content is flagged and can only be viewed by members. So you need to become one. Everyone is welcome to join, but please don't follow it. All you need to do is like this post. I'll see your username and send you an invite. After that you'll need to check your e-mail (NOT tumblr inbox!) and follow the link you'll find there. And please read the post i linked carefully, there's vital information in it.

I'm just really tired

I'd really like to sort this place out completely so that when I retire, and someone is willing to take it off my hands, I could be at peace.

[rivisions]

🎙️ little freak.

present mic x reader / hizashi yamada x reader.

smut/nsfw themes. 18+ content.

sub!reader, dom!hizashi, voice kink, size kink, hair pulled, fingering, classroom sex. also kinda fluff.

working an inspection week at UA high seemed like a fun trip, but you had an obvious hard time keeping yourself energized.

it was hard to stay focused, theres was always some sort of explosion going off, thanks to katsuki.

you mainly worked alongside the teachers rather than the students though. and one always managed to catch your eye as being peculiarly different.

“and that’s why, my dear listeners, this new class is so important! they’ll spark an uproar fo’ sho!”

hizashi was in his own element, in a room recording his very own podcast. you actually listened to it before even coming to UA to inspect, it was kind of cool to see a behind the scenes.

hizashi noticed you stopped in the hallway after he stopped recording.

“sorry my dear! didn’t mean to be that loud!”

he noticed your name tag, noticed that you were there yesterday, and somehow got .. scared of that?

“sorry! apologies! i promise these walls are firm! built to stand and last! nothing but the best or nothing to worry about!”

you laughed, he was quite the entertainer.

“it’s okay, don’t worry. i actually thought it was kinda cool, since i listened to your talk show stuff before i even came here for this week”.

his eyes lit up and he nearly jumped out his own skin.

“you do? i knew i had such a trusting and loving fanbase!”

you laughed at the floor as you pushed your hair behind your ear. he was giddy, but managed to act so focused on you.

he ran behind you and got so close to your neck you could feel his heavy breathing from jumping everywhere.

“i guess my fanbase is pretty loyal, huh?”

your eyes nearly popped out your skull.

you thought, “i didn’t know he was.. like this.” and you weren’t complaining.

“well, of course, mr. mic.”

“oh please,” he moved closer to your ear, “call me hizashi.”

he laughed and walked down the hallway to aizawa’s room, probably to interrupt and cause a scene.

you’d never seen that side of him though. you weren’t going to argue with it though.

• • •

you came back to UA the next day, not really focusing too much on what you were supposed to be doing and rather on where hizashi was.

“there you are! i’ve been super stoked to showing you around!”

you knew that energetic announcer voice anywhere, and it was coming from behind you.

you tried to turn around, but hizashi ran up to put his hands on your shoulders and reintroduce himself to you. like you could forget him.

“i’d really love to show you around! specifically the nicer parts of course, since that’s what i want you to see.”

he started walking with you, arm wrapped around your neck, almost begging for you to be closer. but that’s just his personality anyway.

“i actually kind of finished all my work inspection wise. i’m not sure why they send me out here for a full week when i can finish in a day.”

“oh! you’re here all week? well you just have to come and sit in one of my suuuuper totally awesome lectures then!”

“what are you teaching here anyway? mathematics? public speaking?”

“i’m almost offended! i’m an english professor can’t you tell!” he looked almost distraught.

you laughed it off, “apologies, it actually kind of makes sense now, teaching the new heroes proper grammar and all.”

he turned to you while you were still walking, “oh trust me dear listener, i know how to use my words very well, do you?” , he whispered. it sent shivers down your core.

before you could get an answer out, he thankfully cut you off.

“just messin’ with ya! making sure you’re looking alive throughout my tour!”

you smiled at each other for a moment, and you looked around the building for the next 25 minutes with a grin thanks to hizashi’s colorful commentary.

•••

you ended your tour with him back into his classroom, and he backed you into his desk, kind of without noticing. he’s nearly 6’2 in those boots. but it was kind of hot.

he took his directional speaker off, and you didn’t expect him to look so different without it. but you kind of were digging it.

“now, is there anything else i haven’t shown you?”

you eventually sat completely on his desk as he seemed to take control over you without even knowing it.

“well you haven’t exactly told me what you can do, present mic.”

he got closer to you, and tilted your chin up with his gloved hand.

“it’s hizashi, love. i promise i don’t bite. unless you want me to.”

your face got tomato red, and hizashi noticed, taking note of it and huffed.

“my linguistics seem to have an effect on you dear.”

you grinned. “nothing but the good kind of effects, ‘zashi.”

without even thinking, your legs split, and he took action on that.

his hand slid under your skirt and on your inner thigh, rubbing circles.

you let out a high pitched whine as he got closer to your heat, but covered your mouth with your hand.

“hmm, guess my voice is pretty powerful.”

you just nodded, afraid that if you spoke it would come out as a moan.

he took your hand off your mouth, and got closer to your face.

“there is no need to hide that pretty little voice of yours. let it out my listener.”

your body listened to him apparently, as your head flew back and a moan escaped your body.

“that’s my girl.”

his thumb finally reached your clothed clit, as he pulled your panties aside and rubbed gentle circles on your clit. he was sending you over the moon with just his voice already, but this is so much better.

his index finger finally slid into you after what seemed like hours. he was pumping into you at a slow pace at first, but sped up as he laid farther into you.

eventually you both were nearly lying on his desk, as his fingers steadily pumped in and out of you.

your head fell backwards and hizashi didn’t waste any time, painting hickeys all over your neck.

your shirt eventually unbuttoned because of how hizashi was lying on you, and one of his hands made its way up to your boob.

he painted kisses all down your sternum, your body arched into him, as you slowly started to reach your climax.

“close aren’t’cha babe?”

your eyes squeezed shut as you nodded and let out a small “mhmm”.

“‘zashi! don’t sto-op!”, you whined as you came over his fingers, nearly staining his gloves.

“wanna flip over for me, hun?”

you grinned and flipped to where your boobs pressed against his desk. you could hear him undoing his belt, and gasped as his tip slid into your pussy.

“sorry, i know it’s gonna hurt, you just gotta go slow, okay?”

“no! no i’m okay, ke-ep going.. hmm.”

“didn’t know i was messin’ with a little freak, huh?”

you grinned back at him, but your head quickly shot back after he pushed his full length into you.

“ya good sweetheart?”

“mhmm! ple-ease more ‘zashi!”

“hold on baby, i don’t wanna hurt you,” he growled.

“promise you won’t, please?”

he rolled his eyes and grinned as his pace sped up, and his exposed chest that had unzipped was pressed against your back kept you warm.

your head kept falling on his desk and student’s papers kept getting stuck on your forehead and he noticed, so he pulled your hair back and wrapped it around his hand.

“nngh! oh god oh my god.”

“oh you like that, huh?”

he kept his pace, leaning into your ear, letting out deep huffs into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. he was speaking huskily and his hair was disheveled. those products didn’t keep well and his hair was falling over your back.

“you’re close, aren’t you?”

you nodded, letting out a couple long drawn breathy moans, hoping that suffice for an answer.

“fuck! fu-ck don’t stop ‘ashi!”

he didn’t, he just got closer and more intimately closer to you, painting more hickeys down your back.

he was groaning, whining almost, “never knew you were this- hmph- tight hun”

“oh?” you pretended to act shocked.

“mhmm! fu-uck, i’m”

he didn’t even get to finish his sentence before he was filling your insides. you both somehow synced your climaxes together, both of you filling the room with the sounds of your harmonic moans.

he was panting over you, and you basically molded yourself to the desk as he pulled out of you, cum dripping all over your clothes you threw on the floor.

“sorry my dear listener, i’ll get you cleaned up.”

he held your waist and flipped you around, and the bareness of the desk made you shiver.

he came leaned over you to grab a towel from a drawer out of his desk and cleaned both of you up and picked you up to carry you to sit in his lap in his desk chair.

you straddled him with your hands sitting on his shoulders, as his arms wrapped around your waist. he was pampering you with kisses everywhere, focusing on your forehead.

“you a-okay?”

“yeah, just still in the nude from the waist down though,” you both giggled.

he looked down and realized he never zipped his pants back up, “oh! where are my manners hun!”, and zipped them.

“sorry about that, i have an extra pair of sweatpants in my desk? if they fit ya?”

he opened the drawer and pulled them out as you stood up and put them on.

“thank you mic”.

“i like that one! aizawa doesn’t call me that anymore, so validating!”

you smiled into him, almost burying yourself into his arms.

“i’ll take note.”

“you’ve got to come up here more than just the rest of this week!”

“i think i’m planning on it.. i’ll miss you too bad.”

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXIV. — SENSORY DEPRIVATION

cw: Sensory Deprivation, Yandere Undertones, Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, INCEST, Graphic Descriptions of Blood / Violence / Gore, Surgical Procedures, Gaslighting, Overhaul is Insane, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Please, oh, please be mindful of these tags. This scenario is graphic, dark, unhealthy, and abusive. It is not okay. These thoughts, feelings, and emotions are based off of real trauma and experiences I have endured. Please do NOT let this fic alter any of your perceptions of boundaries, healthy relationships, or sex. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.7k words.

You can’t see. 

Kai tells you that it’s easier this way whenever he has to perform a particularly intense procedure. A silk blindfold is tied around your head, eyes head securely in their little shells, and you try to breathe. The lack of vision makes it worse sometimes. Even though you already know what Kai’s going to do to you, the anticipation skyrockets whenever you can’t watch him bring down the scalpel. You wonder why he always bothers with the blindfold whenever he knows it makes your muscles tremor, makes the blindfold soggy and washed up, makes your heartbeat forget who it is, makes the monitors circling the two of you like vultures blip like a sonar in the trenches of the blackest ocean. 

If Kai was just slicing off your skin like an orange peel like normal, your eyes would be wide open and staring down into your own flesh. Blood, tender red, muscles that never fully lose their color, never pale, and luscious wine of your cells, organs, vitality, life, personality, and the will to live pools in the gaping squares Kai has flayed away—dripping. You wouldn’t look him in the eye, wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t even flinch whenever he slices again. You quit doing that kind of stupid and useless stuff months ago. It doesn’t make him stop, and it puts Kai in a terrific mood whenever you so willingly and easily give into his every whim. And you always do. Every time. You love him. 

“You do so well for me, angel. Do you know how much I appreciate that?” 

Butter on pancakes, syrup drenching the plate. Kai knows the right words to say to make your heart flutter, monarchs in your stomach wild and free, struggling to break out of your stomach, proboscis like knives. He’s so sweet, too sweet to you, too sweet for whenever metal clatters against metal, a small breeze rolls over your nose, and you feel him home in. 

“Thank you, Kai.” 

He hums in response, and you feel it. Coolness pressing down on your lower stomach. You wonder what he’s doing today. It stings, it’s wet. Ah, some sort of sanitizing thing you guess. Or numbing spray. You’re not sure. Maybe both. More sounds, Kai is moving around, he’s grabbing things, and then you feel Kai’s hand on you. Metal on your navel, heavy, and a small breath of air hitches in the back of your throat. Then, straight. Kai makes a tiny incision, you wince, bite your tongue, but you don’t even jolt. Your body is still, but your mind is trying to crawl out of its barriers, the wall, the wall circling your every thought. The scalpel leaves, more shuffling, and something blunt prods at the slit. 

“I weighed the pros and cons of doing this manually or handling it myself, but I decided I didn’t really like the last option.” 

A line creases between your brows, push, and it feels like you’re about to explode. Whatever Kai’s doing, he’s placing some sort of tube in your body, and even though your organs don’t react, your skin does, your nerves do, you’re on fire, and chills tickle your toes and fingertips. What is he talking about now? 

“I don’t want there to be any barriers between us, but that’s not really practical at the moment. No, not at all. So I decided I’d have to do this for now.” 

It feels like eternity before the tube stops snaking into your body, flats of your nails bending backwards until you can touch your knuckles, the arms of the chair squeaking out underneath your grip. You’re scared even though you told yourself that you wouldn’t be. You promised Kai that he could do whatever he needed to you, whatever was necessary for his plan. You don't care about the plan, not one bit, never did, but it drives Kai, motivates him, it’s all his life. Consuming. If he needed to cut you up, entrails strewn around the room like christmas lights, if he needed that then he could do that to you if he wanted. So why do you still get scared? 

Is it because you can’t see him? Is it because he’s never said something quite like this? Is it because you think that maybe you don’t want to let Kai do this to you anymore? 

“If I used my Quirk on you, that might spoil it. Make it gross and dirty.” 

It? 

“K-Kai.” 

Dammit, you stuttered. A pause. Dread fills your body, air does too, you can feel it. You’re inflating, growing bigger, fuller, and you feel like a balloon close to popping. One needle, that’s all it’ll take. Cotton in your nostrils, oxygen in your eardrums, gauze on your tongue. Fatter, more, and your diaphragm rises. Is he filling you with something? You’re dizzy. He’s not talking. You shouldn’t have questioned him. You itch, the urge to tear off the blindfold is insane, but the reality of your decision is too dangerous to even attempt. Static is crawling all over your body, and so is Kai’s gaze. You can feel it. More fear. 

“Kai, spoil what?” 

It’s everywhere. You can hear the lack of his breathing, but you can hear the weight of yours. It’s THERE, and you want it to DISAPPEAR, and you think if you could look down at yourself that you’d be drifting away on a cloud, the zigzag hospital chair you’re strapped to just keeps morphing until it loses its shape. You’re losing it, you want Kai to say something, each one of your hair follicles prickle. And then, 

“Your uterus.” 

His hands move, you freeze, and then it’s nothing until it’s—

“M-My uterus? Why… Why would you need to do anything to that?” 

You’ve never had sex before. You don’t even think you want to. You’re too busy being whatever Kai wants you to be, laying underneath his everything and fulfilling his desires. You don’t understand why Kai would need to do anything like that to you—he’s, Kai is, Kai isn’t anything other than your—

Any barriers between us

Both of your eyes are wide before you actually do thrash. 

“Kai, what are you doing to me? What are you trying to accomplish out of this? What—” 

Kai slams both of his hands on your shoulders, pinning you back down to the hospital chair, but you fight against the added restraints, and terror is the only thing you can comprehend right now. What expression is on his face? All you can see in your mind are those golden honey eyes. You feel sick, nauseous, and the world is getting more and more twisted and you’re getting a little less weightless the longer Kai leaves his touch. 

“Angel, I don’t need you doing this. It’ll mess everything up. I don’t want to have to sedate you. This is a special time we share together, don’t you agree?” 

Ohh, nooo, not this. He can’t coo and sway you now, he can’t coddle you, he can’t rub his thumbs over your collar bones and laugh something wistful. 

“And after we’re done here today, we can become something more. Isn’t that exciting? We can finally consummate everything we’ve ever been.” 

There’s a distinct kind of scream that knocks the roof of your mouth up, but you just gasp through agape lips and whisper— 

“C-Consummate?” 

“Yeah.” 

That’s it. Kai’s hands are gone, the sound of the tube being grabbed and pulled isn’t something you register, you just—

“Kai, are you—what… are you implying that—?” 

A couple of buttons are pressed, the tube is set down, you think, something else is picked up. So much clattering, like thunder in your ears. Sharp smells, zesty lemon, clean, and you can’t breathe past the cloth on your eyes. Kai hums again. 

“Implying that we’re going to have sex?” 

You gulp. 

“Y-Yeah. Sex.” 

The edge of the scalpel is on your mound now. 

“Mhm. I’m going to have sex with you whenever I’m through.” 

Oh, you genuinely can’t breathe. Your lungs are so cinched, there’s pain in your shoulders, you can’t flee, can’t wriggle into the tiles of the floor, can’t hide, you’re naked in front of the man who’s cutting you open, bare and exposed for him. Always. Gooseflesh rises in the wake of his words. You feel awkward and humiliated now. You’ve never felt more hollow, never felt more alive, and you’ve never thought anything weird about letting Kai see you like this. Never, and that’s because—

“K-Kai-i. Please don’t s-say things like th-that. You’re my—my—” 

Slice, an actual yelp leaves you. 

“Brother? I am, aren’t I? But that’s the reason why we’re perfect for each other. Chisaki. We’re Chisaki. Everything about you has been made for me, of me, and I can’t just let you slip through my fingers.” 

Everything is spinning now, low iron, screaming reverberations, you’re sinking, the soul in you is sinking.

“N-No, no, no. I’m not a-attracted to you. I don’t want to have s-sex with you.” 

Kai chuckles. 

“Of course, you do. You’re just nervous, right? I should have expected that. It’ll be our first time together—our first times ever. Isn’t that special?” 

Sickness, disease, fevers, you’re on a rope, hanging, and you feel like if you could stretch your fingers out that you would grab that scalpel and stab yourself through your eyes, ears, gums, lungs. 

“That’s n-not it, Kai. Please, oh, God, please do not do anything to me. We’re not going to have s-sex.” 

The scalpel leaves, Kai sighs. He starts drumming his fingers on your thigh, silent. You see darkness, you see the light, you have no gravity anymore. 

“Don’t be difficult, angel. I’m going to give you a tubal ligation, and then we can have sex. That’s what we’re going to do and I’m no longer in the mood for any games. Be quiet now.” 

If you could explode, if he could just overhaul your entire being, you would let the blindfold consume you. 

A whimper. 

“K-Kai, p-please—” 

Kai shushes you, an angered lilt to his rhythm. 

“I said be quiet. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You’ll want it too. You’re just being difficult.” 

Tears soak into the barrier separating Kai’s eyes from yours. 

[victusinveritas]

Writing advice from Nick Mamatas.

Some science fiction/fantasy creative writing students I have encountered, a field guide

1. World-Savers: these are generally older students, have no real interest in SF/F, are writing a book to express political or metaphysical ideas they consider to be radical and necessary for the future of life on Earth. In reality, they're writing long Platonic dialogues about their ideas, and authority from various culture and pop culture tropes (aliens, noble savages, fairies, resurrected presidents)–to the extent that their work has a plot at all, it involves a Christ figure transforming the world via a sacrifice. The ideas aren't very radical either: "pollute less" and "love your neighbor, unless they're a dick" are common. Occasionally the message for the world has to do with something more prosaic: reverse budgeting, the evils of Affirmative Action, the importance of installing solar panels, how dare Eileen divorce me and fuck like three guys in the six months after she moved out, etc. These students are utterly confused by actually existing SF/F stories they read, and often interpret them in bizarrely sexual ways. They don't believe in numbering the pages of their manuscripts, and often attempt to submit work in PDF so it won't be stolen.

2. Children with Money: recent college grads, or drop-outs, these people have read Harry Potter, Twilight, and perhaps three or four other best-selling young adult series and nothing else. They are easily upset, especially when someone suggests reading more. Their main interests are YouTube personalities, video games, and a sort of Puritanical pansexuality that actually makes smut boring. They often "forget" to read the work of other students, and have no idea how to use a printer. They warn the other students that their story might be "too intense" because it contains, for example, a depiction of a car accident. Their stories are routinely awful, and always contain a character named "Aidan." Sometimes their parents come to class to make sure I am "not a serial killer", as though they could possibly tell from looking at me. (Oh, "Mamatas" IS a white person name...I guess?)

3. Anointed Ones: They contact me, or the people running the workshop, beforehand, to make sure that "the class is right" for them. They have file cabinets full of their stuff, and after many decades of toil, they are ready to reveal their work to the world. They just need a mentor, and an ally—could I be the one they've been searching for lo these many years? Prior workshops were full of callow teachers and jealous students. Why they were only allowed to submit ten pages a week! Some of them have actually read fairly widely, but you wouldn't know it from their work: three adjectives per noun, a fetish for speech tags other than the word "said" or no tags at all. Often these stories include as characters philosophical prostitutes with very sensitive nipples. They never miss a class and often show up more than thirty minutes early. One time, I had to hide in a closet to avoid an extensive pre-class conversation with one.

4. Frightened Proles: These have read Stephen King and Dean Koontz and sometimes even horror writers from this century. They generally have working-class jobs and write about working people who encounter the supernatural on the late shift. They really hope they can sell their novel soon, but they know it'll take a lot of work. (Ten more drafts oughta do it!) They wear baseball hats to class and look like enormous eight-year-olds. They get very excited when I mention professional wrestling or do a taiji move in class. Their significant others are often nameless—"my girlfriend" "my wife." They buy my books and bring them to class for autographs. Some of them get published after, especially flash fiction.

5. Repairables: decent writers, often involved in the SFF "scene", who need to be fixed after a bad experience with Clarion or another workshop or an overeager editor at a semipro magazine who told them some idiot nonsense they decided to believe because they were told it was "unprofessional" not to consider editorial feedback. These either get published...or lost to MFA programs, video game jobs, fandom, podcasts, or other writing-shaped pursuits. Most of them are ferocious name-droppers; the ones who heard of me beforehand know to keep quiet though.

[book-girl4evaaa]

❝ How Very <3 ❞

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"beautiful"

01:57 ━━●─────── 08:39ㅤ ㅤ

◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ↻ ♡

First of all rp blogs so you know who I am 😭 @ask-the-great-heather-chandler @athenas-weirdo-daughter

☆ Matching pfps with @manically-depressedd-psychopath ☆

@ book-girl4eva -> @ book-girl4evaaa

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{ is it just me or is this looking aesthetic as heck? }

Call me Bea or Eva (I like Bea better tho) ⸙ minor ⸙ libra ⸙ geeky ⸙ Athena Cabin ⸙ overuses the ✨ emoji ⸙ book lover ⸙ bilingual ⸙ ace most likely ⸙ free Palestine 🍉 ⸙ British, unfortunately (🥄) ⸙ major Gracie Abrams fan ⸙ Infp-t personality ⸙ ambivert ⸙ African pride ⸙ theatre kid ⸙pepper soup enthusiast ⸙ writer ⸙ artist ⸙ religion is.... complicated but leaning towards agnostic⸙ singer (sort of) ⸙nerd ⸙dancer ⸙ fangirl ⸙sport-lover ⸙ daydreamer ⸙ hopeless romantic ⸙ future designer ⸙ glasses gang ⸙ arsonists ⸙ tag me in poetry! ⸙ green, blue and purple>>> chaotic good ⸙ in a world of heathers be a Veronica ⸙ my sexuality is "?!?!!!!?????" ⸙

I'm always ready to make new friends (no creeps, please) so please talk to me!

Dislikes/Dni: Zionists ☄ creeps ☄ misogynists ☄ sexists ☄ racists ☄ homophobes ☄ transphobes ☄ bigots of any kind ☄ eating mushrooms ☄ geography ☄ mean people ☄ Monday mornings

Nicknames: Beatrice (by Turtle I miss her :() Beanie (by Shree) Belle (by Tina) Bee (by Myna and Fishy) Bea Bee (by Loife) Bumble Bee (by Ife mi <3333 (archivist)) Bear (by Kitcat) Beezus (by Riyana) (Bea)utiful (by Leta)

If you need someone to blurt random facts, rant about life, or just yap then I'm your girl! Feel free to give me nicknames and chat about random stuff :)

Also, send me asks, please :)

Moots!

Fandoms I'm active in: Pjo, Tpq, Kotlc, Gilded, Hamilton, MCU, agggtm, Amari and the night brothers, the hunger games, six of crows, the folk of the air, heathersssssssssssssssss and many more!

I can speak English, yr 9 level Spanish, tiny bits of Hindi (don't ask) and a few insults in yuroba

DNI if you are: a Zionist, a creep, a misogynist, sexist, racist, homophobic, transphobic, or just mean/disrespectful.

personal tags: #bea updates - any random og post • #[Bea reblogs] - reblogging a post • #[Bea's on the line] - answering an ask • #bea's wip - self explanatory

"Guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being,"

Side blogs:

@book-girlswhispers (idk Im just vibey and writey on there)

@step-into-my-candystore (my heathers/musical blog)

@she-used-to-bea-mine (my vent blog)

So have a good day, be kind, and love yourself<333

This blog supports Palestine

If you don't, please leave me alone :)

Don't forget your daily clicks!

Byeee! <333

All images from Pinterest, dividers by me :)

I hope you enjoyed my ✨ extremely aesthetic ✨ intro post!

(Veronica Sawyer photo dump underneath because I love herrrr)

Credits to @westerburgresidence for the user boxes!

[platoapproved]

But how can you connect to all of the unhinged things said in the tags of the iwtv fandom, how can you just forget about your sexual orientation and experiences?? I assume you haven't been able to experience everything that has been expressed in the tags??

Okay! I answered the first one as patiently as I could. But IMMEDIATELY sending a follow-up interrogating my response feels in bad faith, so I'm going to allow myself to be considerably blunter this time.

(If you were just trying to understand and this comes across as unnecessarily hostile, well, it can be a learning experience about how people will react to you questioning them repeatedly. Or don't learn! Up to you. But after this I'm done with the conversation, I'm too old for this shit).

1. I am capable of connecting with and relating to experiences that are not exactly the same as my own! A shocking ability, I know. Even across identity lines! Wild.

2. As far as 'how can I forget', I tried to explain as well as I could last time that when I'm engaging with fiction, I am not doing so through the lens of my personal identity. I simply don't think about myself that much! 🤷‍♀️ Sorry if you can't relate! When I'm watching a show, I am enjoying the narrative structure, the artistic choices, thinking about the characters and trying to empathize with their experiences / engage emotionally with their role in the story. When I am engaging with fandom I am making friends and enjoying their passion, their opinions, their energy and joy. I am not sure what's not clicking here.

3. I will ALWAYS ALWAYS side with people who are expressing their most unhinged, unfiltered, unpoliced, joyous selves, literally no matter how they identify, over anyone - no matter how they identify - who would police or judge other people for being unhinged. Those are my people. You know who is not my people? Anyone but does not focus on their own joy, but instead spends time looking at people whose experiences are different and criticizes or judges them. I'm with the weirdos first and foremost: respectability identity-policing joyless lesbians can lose my number permanently.

4. I have not read every tag on every iwtv post? I honestly only have the vaguest idea what sorts of tags or posts you would be talking about - stuff thirsting after actors? Maybe? That's my guess? Anyway, I only follow a handful of people, mostly people whose opinions or comments on gifsets I made I found enjoyable. I've had fun making friends in this fandom! I love hearing what my friends have to say.

5. Literally what business of yours would it be what I experience? I mean this honestly. What is your personal investment in questioning / policing what another person who you don't know (I assume we're not tight or we wouldn't be having this conversation anonymously) can/can't think or experience based on how they identify? Why is this so urgent to you, and your own sense of self? Something to reflect on maybe.

[mooonjin]

His Nature

Notes: this was so rushed! i had an idea nd really had to jot it down. sorry if itsd not the best aaaaack but pls enjoy!

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!reader

Summary: A clone bred for battle eventually harbours feelings for you and someone who's been a soldier his whole life, has to find a way to confess. Unfortunately, his personality is his only obstacle.

Warnings/Tags: one or two curse words, Crosshair being Crosshair, jealousy, minor yelling (if you squint), mild kissing, fluff tehe — tell me if I've missed anything!

For once, the Batchers didn't have some absurd mission to go on. They didn't have any yapping from Cid and rarely had to go out for supplies. Not even the Marauder was damaged.

They were all free to basically do whatever they wanted to do; on their own or with the others if they desired. Earlier, some of them suggested that they should just sleep the day away, get some rest in. Others wanted to get training in to 'improve'.’ Any civvie would object and say that they didn't need to improve on anything.

It wasn't much of surprise when Tech suggested the whole Batch do spring cleaning and reorganise their stuff in the Marauder. The entire group groaned and walked off when the words left the clone's mouth.

He merely shook his head and tended to his mini projects. It put a sort of disappointed expression on your face when Tech used free time to tinker with mechanics. You always encouraged him to go out and have fun but you would always be met with his index finger in the air, followed by something along the lines of 'this device requires my undivided attention' or 'time isn't a luxury to be wasted, this is crucial to be worked on.’

Wrecker opted to sleep and eat. Mainly eat and sit around with Echo though. He considered him his 'chillaxing buddy.’ You thought it was pretty cute how the two of them would laugh at each other. You always caught Wrecker punching Echo's chest and him having to suffer in silence from the relatively harsh contact. He'd forget it eventually and brush it off. You love it when you see such war-intelligent soldiers have a laugh.

Hunter kept himself occupied with his vibro-knife and the stray lothcat by his ankles. Ord Mantell wasn't super luxurious; it was definitely habitable and had hidden gems placed around the town so it wasn't much of a surprise when you would be able to spot stray animals. The broody clone had a soft spot and this lothcat basically won his heart. The soft creature was very fond of his long hair. It's like they were twinning.

And now for the man who always seems to never be in your vision when everybody is out of the shuttle.

Crosshair.

A grump in the corner.

It's his nature. He can't change that. You can't change that.

And what was Crosshair doing?

Go on, give a good guess.

That's right, he was cleaning his rifle! The clone had probably brushed the surface of that weapon too many times to count. Honestly, it was slowly becoming a mirror. He was leaning against a large rock, one leg limp on top of a smaller rock resting under his knee. The other leg supporting his rifle while his nifty, slim fingers clutched a cloth to get right into the rifles' crevices.

You observed the clones. Despite being created from the same Fett, they all had a personality of their own and it warmed your heart when you saw them outside of the battle field. What didn't warm Crosshair's heart was your personality.

It was too bright for him. Too joyful. Too energetic. Too... you.

Yet he liked it.

Sure, he might have a some drops of feelings for you but that didn't matter. That thought was too busy becoming clouded by the intense "hatred" he had for you. But would you consider it hatred?

"Whatcha doin'?" you took a snoop into the cockpit of the Marauder. It wasn't much of a shock to find Tech perched on the pilot's seat with wires and boards on his lap. There were several tools on the floor as well as being scattered across the control panels. Some were organised in his tool belt — by the Maker it was a mess.

A zap of sparks erupted quickly and faded shortly after. It repeated this pattern until Tech placed down his previous tool to pick up another. With a gentle push of his goggles using the pad of his index finger, he replied, "Repairing," it was dry and fast. He seemed busy. The clinking of the tools filled the silent void as you watched him carefully.

Tech liked that about you. His brothers weren't big fans of his rambles or his projects — unless it was mission related — but you always found time to open your ears to listen. Even with his lack of showing emotion, you read him easily. His body spoke more than he did.

And Crosshair hated that about you.

Crosshair could be the quietest, most invisible person in the group yet you could still understand what was bothering him. It annoyed him how you always came up to him when he was by himself, minding his own business.

Yet there was still that flutter of appreciation whenever you approached him.

"And what is it you're repairing?" you leaned against the panel, gently pushing his tools so you could make some room to comfortably rest against. Tech noticed this, quickly discarding the project for a bit to sort the tools you pushed aside. You muttered an apology under your breath before Tech sat back down and glued his eyes onto the contraption on his lap.

"Our chip scanner. Due to the crash we sustained previously and fortunately recovered from, the scanner was not able to avoid damage. We still haven't surgically removed Hunter's chip yet so that is what I'm working towards with the time I have, currently." a grin appeared on your face. Tech was super caring about his brothers and the fact that he used his own time for somebody else showed that.

"You're cute, I'll be outside if y'need me." you patted his shoulder before walking off to exit the shuttle. A small blush creeped onto Tech's face but he shook it off and continued his work on the apparatus.

As you stepped outside the ship, you inhaled the air of Ord Mantell. The smell wasn't as grim as you expected since the town always looked like it marinates in rust, dirt, and grease. They always parked the shuttle near the heart of the food corner. Every building had at least one canteen for alcohol and a couple of food stalls out in the front.

Mantell mix was the most popular selling street food. Wrecker made it seem a lot more delicious than it sounded. He had already finished the two bags when you offered to go pay for it. That's where most of the credits disappeared to.

You walked over to Hunter who was being smothered by the stray lothcat. It chirped and squeaked as it attacked his neck and long hair. His laughs were muffled and tried to roll over to get the cat off of him. You laughed as you approached him, gaining enough of the cats attention to hop off of Hunter. A sigh left his lips, a little worn out from the play-fight he faced.

"It likes you," you gently ran the pads of your fingers along its head, calming down the creature before it ran off at the sight of a trash panda.

"It likes everyone," Hunter sat up to brush off the excess fur the cat managed to shed onto him. It almost looked like Hunter had extensions due to the hair that clung on him.

You dusted your hands off, bits of fur flying everywhere, "I kinda need your help," Hunter's eyes peeked through his hair. He brushed it back to pay attention to what you had to say next. "I know it's probably not my problem, but Cross's been a little... grumpy? Not!—in a bad way just, yeah. Y'know?"

"Well, that's Crosshair alright." Hunter lowly chuckled.

You sighed in defeat. You didn't exactly know how to word your situation. You wanted to hang out with him, make amends for whatever he held a grudge on you for, and just overall be good friends with him. He cares deeply about his brothers but is always so distant. That was his way of bonding.

You've liked Crosshair for a while now. He might not be a conversationalist or a particularly extroverted person, but you liked him. He was content and mostly kept to himself. He was caring and showed that by reassuring gestures; like he did on Skako Minor when you went to rescue Echo.

Hunter cheered you up a bit, letting you sit with him for a bit to ease any pressure off your chest. He was like this father figure; his leadership skills poking through every now and then. The both of you joked around, laughing and elbowing each other playfully as you found a rhythm to keep each other productive and happy.

In the distance, Crosshair's eyes were very piercing, similar to how he'd peer through his rifle lens. It's like he was about to fire a blaster shot at your direction with his stare. The toothpick in between his teeth felt like it was going to snap due to how hard his teeth were gritting. It was his pet peeve, seeing you pounce on his brothers to get laughs out of them or just to hang out with in general.

Dare say... jealousy?

"Relax, they're not gonna do anything." Echo left Wrecker to sleep off his food coma. Everybody could no doubt hear his snores ring through the alleyways. Echo noticed how hard Crosshair was staring at Hunter. But it was you who really had his attention.

"I know." his response came out snappier and coarse than he anticipated. Although, he didn't care.

You finally left Hunter to tend to his own time, standing up to supposedly find Wrecker. A chuckle was emitted when you found him asleep, mouth open, releasing snores after snores. Your eyes scanned the area to look for the other Batchers when you made eye contact with Echo.

Then Crosshair.

A smile grew on your lips, waving gently before jogging over the brothers. A scoff left Crosshair's mouth as you sat down in front of the sniper but deep down, his heart was fluttering, "Whatcha doin?" Echo smiled, patting his brother on the back before leaving the both of you to chat.

Curse Echo, Crosshair thought.

"Guess." Crosshair mumbled, butterflies quickly filling his stomach as you spoke to him.

"Target practice?"

"Hm," you could hardly tell if the answer was a yes or a no. He couldn't handle it — he couldn't handle you, your sweet scent and aura. It drove him crazy. He stood up, grabbing his rifle and made his way to the Marauder. You managed to catch up to him seeing as he looked to be in a hurry.

"Cross, slow down!" you chuckled playfully. He did not slow down but instead kept walking.

You were annoying sometimes to him. Ever since you joined their Batch, he had to resist from reporting you straight away, simply because you were too good for them. He just wanted you to shut up; it's clear as day that he wasn't used to such a bright atmosphere. Especially being around soldiers of war.

He was a patient man but his thoughts were almost so unreadable, you couldn't get the hint. Crosshair is very durable and can endure circumstances normal folk wouldn't be able to handle. It was derived from his nature as well as his enhancements.

"Cross? Hellooo?" you hummed out.

He finally turned around to acknowledge you but not in a good way. His eyes felt sharper than ever, staring down your figure. He swiftly checked his surroundings before hauling you into the Marauder. You let out a surprise yelp from the sheer force he used to get you inside. The doors shut with a quiet hiss.

It felt like no one was here, only yours and Crosshairs' clanking footsteps against the metal were to be heard throughout the shuttle, "Woah, s'everything alright?—"

"—Get your fucking act together." he snapped, the roughness in his voice was harsher than you've ever heard.

Your personal bubble was popped and he way was too close to your face. A couple more inches forward and you'd practically be kissing. Not that you'd complain but given the situation, those thoughts depleted.

"What?" you muttered, timid and weakly. You genuinely had no idea what you were doing to Crosshair and it sort of pained you. If only you knew what you did to him.

"Did I stutter?" his words were laced with venom. It felt hot, his fiery attitude being poured all over you like lava. "Do you always have to be so... so..." his voice faded out, the end of his sentence replaced with a low, frustrated groan. You stood there in shock. Where did this Crosshair come from? Did you do this? "...So happy all the time?"

Crosshair's fists clenched at his sides. You could see them shake from how hard he was clutching, "There's no point living without it so... yeah."

"The whole batch has to live with it and act like we enjoy it," he poked a finger at your shoulder, pushing it so you stumbled a bit. He did this until you were backed up against the cool metal of the shuttle. His words pained you like he shot a blaster through your heart. An odd shiver rushed to your face. It felt hot like tears were about to spill.

All your feelings towards him were now second thoughts.

"We would all appreciate it if you..." he waved his hand in exaggerated thought, "...weren't so you." the point stung. Crosshair has always been this honest and straight-forward person, no matter what effect it would do to others around him. He turned around, not facing you to rub his forehead.

He was more than annoyed now, but it was his attempt to gain attention from you. Truthfully, he had no idea how to talk to you without sounding like such a dick. Honestly, he was more nervous than he was annoyed.

Suddenly, a jolt of confidence washed over you, causing you grab Crosshair's shoulder to spin him around so he could make proper eye contact with you, "Who are you to tell me how to live my life?" a small smirk grew on his lips, obviously enjoying how you've managed to lose all composure with just his words. It was also slightly attractive seeing you angry from his point of view.

"How sensitive," you grumbled in fury at his one-liner. It took all of your strength not to pounce on this 6ft clone and slap that stupid smirk off his face as well as shoving his toothpick where the Mantell sun doesn't shine.

"That happiness, this... joy. It's all for a list to tick off," you were more than confused at what he was rambling about.

"Because you're so desperate for somebody to like you,"

"Because you seek validation,"

"Because—"

Enough!

You sent a slap to his face, knocking the toothpick out of his mouth. You were breathing heavily and all Crosshair did was lowly chuckle at your miserable state of mixed emotions. Your lip began to quiver as his words repeated in your head, tauntingly. Salty tears began collecting at the bottom of your eye, blurring your vision briefly.

Crosshair watched your composure unfold, crumbling before him, "Go on, cry it all out." his hand reached to the back of his armor for a new toothpick. He sat back down on a swivel chair to clean his rifle for the hundredth time as if he didn't just yell at you.

You couldn't believe it.

Short intakes of breaths ensued. You inhaled and exhaled, trying not to let yourself fully sob in front of Crosshair. But as tears began to take their full form in your eyes, they threatened to fall.

"Maybe liking you was a mistake."

His eyes widened for a second at your confession.

"Wai—"

You slammed the key panel door open and ran out of the Marauder, holding your eyes to prevent the tears from flowing. Your heart felt like shattering at that moment. Every time your foot hit the ground as you ran, your knees were on the verge of giving up.

Maker, you were so sensitive. It infuriated you. You felt helpless as you continued to run. At this point, your hands were stained with a thin layer of your tears. Small drops escaping and running down your arm, falling off your elbows.

The abrupt noise of the Marauders door opening caught the attention of Hunter who saw you run off into town. He glanced back at the open shuttle, assuming something had happened in there.

Tech, who was quiet as a mouse, had listened to the whole ordeal unravel. His brothers words were harsh and cruel and the fact it was enough to send you in a crying fit, he had to do something about it.

The cockpit doors swung open, Tech holding his holopad in one hand as he walked to where Crosshair sat. He appeared unfazed like he didn't yell at you, cleaning his rifle like it was any normal day, "Care to explain what you did?"

The sniper moved his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, the sound of his rifle parts clicking back together filling in the silence, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, apart from what I overheard, there is something to be talked about—"

"—Crosshair, what did you do this time?" Hunter practically burst through the Marauder door, panting and demanding that his brother gives him the answer he's looking for. Tech clicked a couple of buttons on his datapad, also awaiting some sort of answer.

Crosshair sent a careless look to Hunter and that was enough to send him through the roof. He snatched the rifle out of his hands, tossing it to the side to get Crosshair's full attention. He stood up, looking Hunter dead in the eye. The two clones had a stare-off. It was really a sight to look at; a 6ft and almost 6ft soldier one upping each other. They exchanged glares, eyes becoming narrow as the time passed.

"Guys, come on." Tech waved his hand to the side. He knew better to sort this problem when calmer minds prevailed.

"Apologise or something worse will happen." Crosshair shoved Hunter to the side. He'd rather get this stupid apology over and done with so he didn't have yapping next to his ear. He scoffed, spitting out his toothpick, essentially littering but did he care? Not one bit.

-

As he walked down the pathways of Ord Mantell, he avoided eye contact with everybody, shoving off marketeers who attempted to convince him to purchase something. His hand snaked to the back of his neck, scratching gently at the hairs that faded down to his neck.

Had he been too harsh to tell you that? Yes, it might've been out of jealousy but in all honesty, Crosshair was oblivious when it came to showing affection. Not that it justified his big fit.

He liked you. He really did, but there was no one to help him with these unfamiliar feelings as a clone. From a young age, all he ever received was nasty insults from regs and the puny support of his brothers. They tried their best so Crosshair always acted like it helped him.

It didn't.

You were sat on a bench, staring off into the distance. Your eyes followed the dusty mountain range of Ord Mantell. There was nothing much to look at, it looked the same along the horizon. The skies made up for it; cotton candy-like clouds gently travelling across the sky and occasionally hitting the tops of the mountains.

Your tears managed to dry up, though your face was still warm and flushed. Crosshair's words kept ringing through your head. Did he really think of you that way? Did all of them think of you that way? Absurd scenarios circled your mind. A pit of guilt dropped onto you; if they had felt that way about you, wouldn't they have told you?

The questions you asked yourself didn't help the situation.

Would they care if you left their group?

Who hates you the most?

Have they considered decommissioning you?

You picked at the dried mud on your armor, slowly tracing the Batcher's signature skull. Just as you were about to call the group about your consideration of leaving, crunching footsteps approached you. It was soft and didn't seem hostile. Out of your peripheral, you could see a tall, head down, Crosshair. Huh, rare.

"Are you here t'tell me I'm 'too sad' for your liking now?" you let out a sarcastic chuckle. His words still pained you and the audacity for him to come looking for you was really insulting.

"Came to apologise." your eyes went a little wide. You never thought those simple words would leave his mouth. You had to admit, he sounded genuine. You stood up to face him to find that he was already looking straight at you. His eyes rested, the generation wrinkles on his forehead weren't visible.

"I'm... sorry for talking to you that way." he muttered. He squinted his eyes, cringing at his apology.

He was about to walk back to the shuttle until you spoke up.

"Crosshair," you began, softly. "wait, please." your words were lightweight as they reached Crosshair, in hopes to make him feel a little better.

This time, he stopped, though he couldn't bare to look into your eyes. Even if it was the shortest moment of gazing into your delicate irises, his chest would clench and butterflies would spawn again.

Your words affected him so much, a simple 'hello' would send him into a blushing fit. He was lucky enough to have his helmet hiding it for him.

"I'm sorry," you sighed. "if I made you feel like I was being too happy." your eyes dropped to the ground, not daring to make eye contact either.

Crosshair was in disbelief. How could you be the one apologising when he initiated this? It took him a lot of strength so he wouldn't start protesting and objecting your apology. It gained him enough confidence to make another attempt at making eye contact without looking like he was about to shoot a battle droid.

The atmosphere shifted, making you feel his stare smoother than before. It wasn't piercing this time. It had the intention of care and forgiveness in it — a second chance.

Like a wary animal, he inched towards you, trying not to seem too forward. You followed his eyes as he slowly closed the gap between the two of you. He got closer and closer until it was just your chest plates touching. The small 'clink' alerting the both of you.

Admittedly, it was difficult to avoid staring at his facial features. You always took the chance to admire how his cheek bones were so defined, it could cut you if you went too close. The soft skin above is eyebrows when he rested his eyes. His peach pink lips that are just... so kissable.

Not even Crosshair could hold back with his stares. Just like yours, his eyes wandered, admiring your facial features so close.

His impaulsive thoughts won him over, he shoved off his helmet, his hand quickly taking its place against the side of your torso to pull you in as close as he could get you — curse this armour.

You let out a squeal, your lips captured in his, but the warmth you were just getting use to was lost in the next second. Judging by your shocked expression, Crosshair took it as a sign. It was stupid and he should've asked you first.

"Forgiv—"

You cut his words off with your lips capturing his this time. He let out a low grunt as your lips began to dance. It was slow and gentle, showing more affection than hatred towards one another. Crosshair sighed into the kiss, you could tell how touch-starved this man was and you weren't surprised.

Sometimes war prevents stuff like this from happening. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to ravish the feel of your lips against his. His hands rested under your jawline, cradling your face and holding you closer than ever.

Despite having the toughest demeanour out of his brothers, his touch didn't go unnoticed. Surprisingly, it was gentle and caring. You could feel his hands roam your body on the thinnest parts of your armour until they rested behind your neck.

With a small 'pop,’ you both pulled away. You couldn't help the smile that grew when you saw Crosshair's eyes. They remained shut like he was dreaming, trying to keep that kiss as a memory. Slowly, they fluttered open and blush creeped up on him.

"What was all this for?"

"What?" he mumbled, his lips still wet from the kiss.

"This—to get me to forgive you?" you crossed your arms.

"No, maker," he sighed, angrily. "I like you."

Your arms fell to your sides, almost going limp. Your heart was thumping, "Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I hated you. I didn't know how." he went back to his squinting expression.

You cracked a sympathetic smile, pulling Crosshair into a hug. Initially, he didn't hug back. The sudden action sent shockwaves of butterflies throughout his body. There it is again. He would be crashing down on his knees if you weren't holding him right now. Such a small gesture could make a broody man shrink.

"I'll take the reigns then, if you'll let me?" you held out your hand, implying he should take it in his if he wanted to. And he did just that. His hand — a lot larger than yours — rested against your palm, interlocking his fingers. You shot him a caring grin. You didn't expect him to do anything back, not wanting to push him into the deep end just yet.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." he didn't have his helmet this time to cover up the blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

The two of you walked back into town. An impatient and slightly irritated Hunter was rapidly tapping his foot on the ground. His façade seemed to diminish when he heard your footsteps approaching, his broody expression being replaced to a more happy state.

You and Crosshair reached the door of the Marauder, "I see the both o'you made up—“

"Stow it, Sergeant." Crosshair snapped. You patted Hunter's shoulder, reassuringly.

"Please don't tell me they're gonna do something..." Echo chimed in from behind, worried for his life.

Tech shrugged. Who knows what you'll do with Crosshair.

Maybe teach him some manners first.

-

Post-Notes: huhu... oops this is a bit longer than my other ones but i hope you liked it :D

my stuff is still open!! and if you wanna be apart of my taglist or wanna be removed, heres the liink 

~ ~ ~

@elsastoes @nekotaetae

[sky-kenobye]

13 books

What’s up readers?! How about a little show and tell? Answer these 13 questions, tag 13 lucky readers and if you’re feeling extra bookish add a shelfie! Let’s Go!

Thanks @willameena for the tag! :D

1) The Last book I read:

Idk if it counts since it's a graphic novel but the last thing I read was Bolchoi Arena, by Boulet and Aseyn. It's a sort of Ready Player One universe (less dystopic i think though). I really like it, but I'm waiting for the fourth volume to come out and there isn't a release date yet 😭

(I don't think there's an English translation (yet) so i can only recommend it if you speak french, sorry)

2) A book I recommend:

Iron Widow, by Xiran Jay Zhao. LOVED IT! I'm bad at recommending stuff but: big monsters, pacific rim style machines to fight the monsters, polyamory, ruthless woman, plot twists... So cool!

Also Loveless, by Alice Oseman, because it's about aromanticism and asexuality which is almost non-existent in... any media really, and that book is very dear to me.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

All the ones I really like x) I struggle a lot with putting down a book once I'm into it. The first advice to fall asleep easier is always 'don't use your phone before bed, read a book instead!' but if I do that I won't even try to sleep, I'll just keep reading all night...

But I guess the one that I was the most surprised about not being able to put down is The Pillars of the Earth, by Ken Follet. I'm not particularly into historical books, and that's a huge book around the building of a cathedral, so I was a bit skeptical, but damn, it was great! It's over 1000 pages and I still managed to read it in less than a week while on a school trip.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

So many of my childhood books. I almost spent more time re-reading my favorite stuff than reading new books lol. I think the ones I've re-read the most are Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and La Quête d'Ewilan.

5) A book on my TBR:

So many. Soooo many. I keep buying books even though I don't read them, help.

I'll go with the Wayfarers series by Becky Chambers because I really want to read them, people keep recommending them, I have them (in a really cool edition), I can literally see them in my bookshelf right now, and yet I don't read them for some reason 🤷

6) A book I’ve put down:

Also a lot. If I manage to put a book down I can forget it exists in a couple of days, even if i loved it, and weeks later I'm like "oh shit, I never finished that book".

One of the few that I put down more or less on purpose is Silo, by Hugh Howey. I'm pretty sure I would like it if I kept reading but something happens only a few chapters in that put me off and kind of annoyed me so I never read the rest.

7) A book on my wish list:

Revenge of the Sith! And many other star wars books. The reason why I still don't have it is that I want it in english so I have to order it online from the UK probably, and between the shipping and the taxes from being from outside the EU (sometimes there are taxes, sometimes not, i don't understand how it works)(one time I had to pay taxes on my own clothes that I sent myself from the UK to France 😭😭 I'm still mad about it) it'll end up being way more expensive than it should, so I'm putting it off x) I looked for it when I was in scotland but they didn't have it :(

8) A favorite book from childhood:

The ones I mentioned in 4) were my all time fav, I can't think of any other right now even though I used to read a lot more books than i do now 🤔

9) A book you would give to a friend:

Honestly I would be so scared they didn't like it that I probably would never give a book to anyone unless they asked for it 😬 (except my family I guess)

Mayyybe a Dan Brown, like The Da Vinci Code? I feel like that would be a pretty safe bet, unless they hate the genre.

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own:

I don't think I have any? I had to read Alcools, by Apollinaire for the baccalauréat (french high school graduation exam) but I think it was my mom's copy and i honestly hated it. According to my teacher it was "cubist poetry" which, what? I was not smart enough to understand any of it, and it wasn't doing it for me.

(Literary analysis is my nemesis, I'm usually pretty smart but when I try to analyse a text it's just *no thoughts, head empty*)

I'm really picky about poetry so I don't really know where to start to read any.

11) A nonfiction book you own:

I don't have many: a few anthologies of queer stories, How to Invent Everything by Ryan North (literally what the title says lmao), Eject! Eject! by John Nichol (about the history of ejection seats, super interesting!), Les Guerres de Lucas by Renaud Roche and Laurent Hopman (a french graphic novel about George Lucas), and Tu mourras moins bête by Marion Montaigne (scientific stuff explained, but make it hilarious, also french comics)

12) What are you currently reading:

Ithaca, by Claire North, but I've barely started.

13) What are you planning on reading next?

No idea! Maybe Iron Flame, maybe The Priory of the Orange Tree, maybe Floating Hotel, maybe finally the Wayfarers series, maybe a random other book, who knows 🤷

If you've read all of that, thank you and congratulations!

Tags: @piecesofeden11 @sendpseuds @kingdomvel @bolshoiromanova @renlyslittlerose @intermundia @desmothene @arobiwan @cottonraincoat @starwalkertales @artbythedarkside @shakeskp @somethingsteff (I tried not to tag people I had seen tagged already)(but no pressure!)

[roomwithanopenfire]

fandom ask game: 2, 12, 13, and 15

Thanks for the ask!!! (from this ask game)

2. a headcanon you weren't sure about at first but have come to like!

I feel like every time someone asks me about headcanons I literally forget every single head canon ever. Tbh I'm so open to most head canons out there I'll always give them a shot. Most the time when I read anything you say about the Mage I have an initial slightly skeptical "hmmm" reaction before being like "yeah, i can buy into that actually"

12. compliment someone else in your fandom

There's SO many lovely people in this fandom who I could compliment but I'm going to compliment @run-for-chamo-miles!! First of all, Elle's Snowbaz is so soft and lovely, and I love just how real their fics feel. The sorts of details they highlight are just lovely. Every single one of their works that I've read, I've loved—and I definitely plan on slowly making my way through them all <3 (EVEN the RWRB ones, I'm coming for those). But in addition to their writing, I have to compliment them for being so nice and welcoming! Elle was one of the first people who commented on my very first long fic back in 2022, when the only part of the fandom I interacted with was reading and writing fanfic. I remember going onto their page and seeing how much stuff they'd written and being like "wow this super experienced fanfic writer is reading my stuff!" 😭 Pretty sure they were one of the first people I followed on Tumblr and they roped me into Six Sentence Sunday at the end of last year, which was the push I needed to be active in this fandom—which has been so much fun!! They are literally so nice all the time in tags and reblogs and it always makes me smile to see them in my notifs. (Also, Elle, how do you make replies to comments SO NICE? literally cheesing reading your replies to my comments on your fics💗💗💗 You've got to be one of the sweetest people ever!)

13. your favorite type of fandom event (gift exchange, ship week, secret santa, prompt meme, etc)

I don't know if I've done enough events to know my favorite. I've only done big bangs and fic exchanges. I had so much fun doing the COBB this year and I'm doing a mini bang for the stranger things fandom right now, and I just think it's so fun to make something with someone else. Also the one fic exchange I've done was also so fun—to write a fic with someone else in mind is so cool. Honestly, I just love the idea of fandom events and the community it brings!!

15. the character that always makes you smile

I can't pick, I love too many characters. Baz and Simon for the basic answer I guess 😅

[aemonds-little-belle]

Feelings Sold Separately

CHAPTER EIGHT (THE FRIDGE)

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

TAGS - (REPOSTED FROM AO3)

Alternate Universe - Sugar DaddySugar BabySugar Baby AUAUokay this is a whole ass story that's just one long ass brain fartliterally i am just coming up with this on the spotlow key really love it thoughSugar Baby/Sugar Daddyobviouslytalks of class issuesaemonds been hurt in the pasti think there will be some sexy stuff eventuallywait fuck i didn't mention this is a modern!aumodern!AUAlternate Universe - Modern Setting&lt;3Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen is Bad at Feelingsstop that was recommended but so accurateI don't know how to do tagsI'm SorryI promise it's goodAnd no one diesand it's just so classically a sugar baby/ sugar daddy au it hurtsreader works at a cafe ... obviouslythis will follow a similar storyline to the show just modern and also not at allFamily Issueswait probably dom/sub vibes tooDom/subLight Dom/subclearly i don't know where this is going yetmy readers are always written fat because i am fatso keep that in mindSlow Burnit's so slowbut I think it's greatlike genuinely two idiots in lovebut they take soooo long to noticeUghI love fanfiction

NOTES - (REPOSTED FROM AO3) -

This chapter will begin to dip into the more serious side of sugar baby/sugar daddy tropes, such as talk of money being needed for more than just clothing. The last chapter, and this one too, signal a sort of change between the two characters, they've grown closer over the past day, / last a billion chapters I'm sorry I don't know why I made it slow burn! So do know the story will begin to grow now, the pace may get quicker, and Dom/Sub vibes, though very minimal, will begin to pick up. That's all! Just a little heads up! ALSO, get your glasses, some water, and a snack, they finally get into a fight ...

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG!

+ + + + + +

The grocery store was huge and unfamiliar, the overhead light cool and bright, a stark contrast to Y/n’s favorite little market down the road from her apartment. Plus this store had a huge selection of things she had never heard of, things she didn’t know if she even wanted to try, like the fruit some woman was holding, the colour strange, texture clearly unpleasant. “Ready?” Aemond asked, a large cart in tow.

“I don’t need that much stuff, a basket would be better.” Y/n began looking around, trying to find where they kept their baskets, though from how fancy the store was she wouldn’t be surprised if they came with a personal shopper too.

“We’re fine, come on.” Aemond said in a reassuring tone, noticing Y/n’s sudden anxious wave, her panic to make everything work perfect taking over, his hand settling on her back to comfort her. “What do you need to get?” He asked, his tone one she hadn’t had the chance to hear, the softness in it, the genuine care he was giving, it was new, but she needed it.

“Um, some bread, and crackers.” She answered quickly.

“That’s it?” He asked, confused, the last time she seemed to make this errand seem like something so long and boring Aemond wouldn’t even want to go.

“I guess maybe some juice too.” Y/n’s eyes seemed to meet every person who passed them, assessing them, making sure they weren’t doing the same to her.

“Y/n, look at me.” Aemond huffed slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Yah I’m fine.” She didn’t seem so sure. “I promise, I just want to get home, really, no big deal.” Aemond didn’t believe her, but knew he had to learn to trust her, just like she was learning with him.

+

Aemond and Y/n stood awkwardly outside her building, bags in each of their hands, though not a lot, Aemond had convinced Y/n to buy a few extra things at the grocery store. “Are you going to open the door?” He asked, looking to her, her looking away.

“I can bring them all up on my own, it's okay.” Y/n smiled, one that she didn’t mean, the gesture hardley meeting her eyes.

“That’s not going to happen, little dragon, I’m sure you're strong but your building has no elevator.” He smirked, one she would have regularly enjoyed, but not in this moment. ‘How does he even know I don’t have an elevator here?’ Y/n just took a few steps towards the main door, her key meeting the lock, the stairs only steps away.

“Just be careful, the stairs can be tricky sometimes.” She mumbled, her chest growing heavier and heavier the further they got. The third floor hallway had even dimmer lights than the last two, the doors worn, beige walls stained with time. “You can just leave the bags there.”

“Y/n!” An old lady's voice shouted.

“Hi Miss Falker.” Y/n smiled.

“Your fridge, young lady!” Miss Falker pointed to her. “I thought you got it fixed, the noise is driving me nuts.”

“I know.”

“Just.” The lady seemed to take a sudden stance of pity. “Make sure you and your Targaryen wannabe keep quiet.” And With that she walked away, a door slamming to the left, Y/n’s giggle quietly drowning the sound out.

Aemond had a stunned look on his face, his lips turned into a smile. “She’s nice.”

Y/n laughed a little louder, Aemond happy to see the slight sparkle back in her eye. “She is, sometimes. Other times she can be a little.” Y/n tilted her hand side to side.

“Why don’t I take a look at your fridge?” Aemond offered, still holding bags, not giving up his want to see her apartment.

“It’s not making a noise, I promise.” Y/n unlocked her door. “Mr Bayle lives on the other side of Miss Flaker, it’s his fridge that’s making the noise, I just don’t want there to be more drama than necessary.” She explained, still not actually opening the door. “You can go take a look at his fridge if you want?” She playfully offered. Aemond just ignored her, placing his hand over hers and turning the doorknob.

The studio apartment was small, the kitchen dated, though he enjoyed the little window ledge with a built-in bookcase under it. It was quite empty, only a few things here and there, a total of four books under the window, a couple lamps, a small plant sat beside her bed, and some t-shirts scattered on the floor, though the sun had gone down quite a bit, so everything was heavily shaded. “Um, well, yah, thank you for today.” Y/n rushed, she seemed antsy, a state Aemond didn’t wish to leave her in.

“What books do you have?” He asked pointing to the bookshelf, his head swiveling, looking for a light switch.

“Poetry by the great ..” A *click* could be heard but nothing happened, then another *click*. “The light switch is just a little finicky.” Y/n tried to explain, Aemond shook his head, finally putting two and two together, he walked towards the fridge, hearing Y/n mutter a quiet ‘Aemond’ under her breath. When the door opened he was met with empty shelves, no light, and the sound of Y/n sniffling in the background.

“Y/n” He hummed, almost angry.

“It might just be a power outage, I …” Her voice was shaky, though she tried to hold it together.

“You told me your pay at the cafe covered rent, groceries, and your utilities.” He wasn’t sure what to feel, he was angry she lied, but more mad at himself for not checking.

“It does, I promise.” She took a step back, hiding from him, herself, the goddamn fridge at this point. “It’s just, the fridge was making a weird noise and.” She paused to sniffle again. “And the guy charged me more than I could afford, I, just, it threw me off a bit that’s all.” Y/n’s shoulders collapsed in on one another, he could pay her a thousand dollars a minute and not even falter, she couldn’t even scramble an extra two hundred in time to pay her bills. She wished she could confidently think he wasn’t going to mock her, or say something mean, but she didn’t know, she had no idea how he would react. What if he thought she needed him too much? What if this was his last straw? What if she’s just too different for him? “It’s really not a big deal.” She tried to reason, her mind already pitting Aemond against her.

“Not a big deal?” Aemond shut the fridge door a little too loudly. “Little dragon, it is cold as ice in here, you have no food in the fridge, how are you even charging your phone?” Then it clicked, she ran earlier, she couldn’t call him, her phone must have died, she was in the mall stranded, with a dead phone, and he left her there, to fend on her own. “Your phone died?” He asked, his tone softer, no wonder she seemed off throughout the day. Every time something remotely related to the power came up she hid again. This morning, she cut her words off, changed the subject when she mentioned the fridge noise, her phone was dead and she couldn’t call him, causing her to face the situation again, the grocery store. “You didn’t get anything that needed to go in your fridge, you don’t have anything that needs to be cooked.” He felt his own heart racing, he knew why she didn’t tell him, it’s a vulnerable thing to tell someone you just met, but he should have known, he’s supposed to know. “How long? How long have you been living like this?”

“Four days.” Y/n barely whispered.

“You could have asked for help.” Aemond sighed.

“Could I?” Y/n cried. “I didn’t want you to look down on me, or, or be mad at me.” Tears were falling down her cheeks at this point, her chest heaving slightly. “I didn’t have a choice! My fridge needed to be fixed, sacrifices had to be made, that’s how the real world works Aemond!” She knew her words might sting, but she couldn’t stand silent as he asked her such obvious questions.

Aemond stormed out of her apartment, the door still open as he ran down the stairs, Y/n just stayed still, crying, she didn’t want him to see this, she hated herself for letting him in, yet she knew he would get here eventually, see how different they are, see how he lives in a totally different world. Suddenly all she could hear was banging from below, fist banging on a door and then yelling. “Are you the guy that runs this place?” She could hear Aemond’s voice, the idea of him yelling at the man she depended on for a roof over her head made her stomach churn, her moving to go downstairs to stop whatever was happening, move on. Aemond seemed to know she was coming. “Y/n? How much do you owe this man?” Aemond didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of him, no doubt scaring him into submission.

“Two hundred dollars.”

“Three hundred, missy.” The guy stepped to the side to point at her, like she had just thrown him under the bus. Aemond wasted no time pulling on the guy’s shirt, forcing him to stand in front of him, to look at him, in his terrifying targaryen stance, money practically dripping from him like sweat would.

“I gave you a hundred last night, Gunner!” Aemond hated the way she said it, like she had pleaded with him before, like he had tried, and probably, scammed her before, though this time she clearly had backup.

Aemond chuckled lowly, letting the man go, reaching into his suit pants and pulling out his wallet, a wad of cash in hand as he carefully, and slowly, just to prove how much money he had, ‘seriously?’,counted each bill before handing Gunner the money. “Two hundred.” Aemond spat, his hair a little messy, his shirt buttons hanging on for dear life as he heaved breaths in and out, the true picture of a deranged, ‘hot’, man willing to do anything for his girl.

Y/n began walking back up to her apartment, expecting Aemond to walk out and not turn back, a kind gesture and no goodbye. But before she could close her apartment door he walked in behind her, watching as the lights finally turned on, a small whizzing noise passing through, signaling electricity, water flowing through the pipes again. “You didn’t have to do that.” Y/n mumbled, waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for him to walk out.

Aemond huffed. “This entire arrangement I have told you to rely on me, to let yourself need me. I don’t care how many times I have to say it again. Of course I am here to spoil you, sure, but I’m also here to keep you safe, protect you, keep you out of danger, make sure you have fucking power Y/n!” Y/n hadn’t seen him like this before, part of her shocked he had this side, the other half widely attracted to him. “That’s what’s important.” His hands were on his hips now, he looked like a mother out of breath, like he just did a zumba class, though he was really just exhausted from holding in the want, ‘need’, to punch Gunner in the face. “I am happy you let me buy you things today, shoes, clothes, some bread.” He looked at the bag full of pitiful snacks. “But this is what matters, your well being.”

“I just thought ...”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t think next time, just ask.” ‘I will give you the world, the air from my lungs.’ “Just ask.” His words were breathy, low, and serious. “You want to make me happy? Pay me back?” ‘You don’t have to.’ She nodded her head. “You’re going to charge your phone, eat some food, and you’re going to go to sleep.” Aemond picked up the bag of food from the floor, setting it on the small island space to his right, taking out the things and laying them out nicely. “Do you have any allergies?”

“I don’t know.” She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders, she hadn’t really had the chance to go out, try the foods of the world, and see if any decided to close her throat up, and it wasn’t something she felt the need to do. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to buy you some groceries and make you some proper breakfast in the morning.” Aemond shook his head. “All you ate today was a bagel! I didn't even think to stop and pick something up.” He couldn’t help but beat himself up, he knew she wouldn’t ask for things, he knew he needed to take the lead, and yet he was struggling, and his failure was eating him from the inside out.

“I actually ate a few crackers when you were putting the cart away.” Y/n’s sassy voice, though much more diluted, rang through the room.

Aemond chuckled, looking to the ceiling. ‘Gods help me, she’s going to be the death of me. I don’t mind’. “Tomorrow you start asking for things, and tomorrow I make sure my focus is you.” He turned around to face her.

“You seemed to look at me alot for someone who wasn’t focused on me.” Y/n’s fingers were once again anxiously playing with one another, her mind still swirling.

“And you seemed to look at my hands alot for someone who wouldn’t ask to hold them.” Aemond quipped back, Y/n cracking a genuine smile, one he could never get sick of. “So do we have a deal?” He asked, Y/n nodding her head.

“Yes, I’ll start asking for things, I promise.” Y/n nodded her head, her smile still lingering. “But, Aemond, your money isn’t going to fix every problem I have, I’m not your responsibility.” She added. “You shouldn’t put all this weight on your shoulders, I’m okay, I can take care of myself, I promise.”

“You don’t have a great record of doing so, Y/n.”

She huffed. “I have made it all these years without you, Aemond, I can certainly keep going.”

“But you don’t have to.”

“And I know that now.” She explained, looking at the light above her. “But you don’t have to defend my honour.” ‘I want to.’ “I’m your sugar baby, you don’t need to turn your life upside down for me.” ‘I will anyway.’

Aemond’s heart seemed to stop, was this her setting up boundaries? Did she want him to back off? Step away? Treat her like she meant less to him? Because she didn’t, how was he supposed to get that across? She, even though it had only been four days, meant everything to him. “I know my money isn’t going to solve all your problems.” He admitted, leaning against her counter, his arms crossed against his chest, the damned, ‘gods sent’, tattoo on full display. “But I have power in political and corporate worlds, I have multiple university degrees, my family is practically royalty, and last time I checked most people find me terrifying.” He chuckled slightly. “Other than Miss Falker.” Y/n laughed with him then. “So stop thinking you have to do everything on your own, I have every base covered, I can fix anything, even your neighbors fridge if it bothers you too much.” ‘Do I sound like I’m begging?’ “So stop pushing me away.”

“We’ll see.” Y/n pretended to hold her head high, the leftover tear stains making her look of pride falter.

“We’ll see?” Aemond adjusted his arms, tightening them, his forearms flexing, Y/n trying not to stare.

“It’s a big ask, Aemond, I’m only one person.”

“I thought you wanted to change the world?” He tilted his head slightly.

“Stop bringing that up!” Y/n raised her hands in defeat. “I will try to let you help.” She bit back her desire to take the words back.

“Y/n!” Miss Falker could be heard from outside the apartment. “Get that bleach blonde boy out of here before I do it myself!”

Y/n hummed. “You interrupted her TV time.” She giggled slightly.

“Her what?”

“He’s too loud, I couldn’t hear the damn TV!” Miss Falker yelled, as if on cue.

“He’s just leaving Miss F, I promise!”

“You’re pretty enough Y/n.” She yelled back. “You could get a real Targaryen boy, you deserve one.”

Y/n looked to Aemond, who had a mixed look of amusement and pure rage lingering on his features, his hair every which way, clearly not a man to mess with, and yet Miss Falker was ripping him to shreds. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”

[joannerowling]

Man PinkNews really can't stay away from Jo for too long lol, they're back at it again with more slander, this time with a supposed like of a pretty offensive tweet. And as always people are eating it all up.

Now I went to check and that supposed like wasn't there which makes me think it's fake(either that or much like few years ago when she liked and then unliked that one tweet-I forget what was it about, and if her like was real then it could be the same case again, an acidental like).

But like, I really don't get these people...I get it, they hate her, but why make up stuff? Is it cause perhaps normies are waking up and seeing that Jo isn't this evil person the likes of PinkNews and TRAs are trying to paint her as...it's so weird.

Well they can't exactly go and talk about anything wrong she would have actually done, can they, since when you look up what Jo really does with her money it's all charity and paying her taxes. We're still waiting on that list of anti-trans organisations she would have supposedly funded or donated to - you'd think they would line up to claim her patronage, and yet! Crickets! Strange, isn't it?

So they are reduced to this: dishonesty, defamation, and just making shit up when they run out of ideas. Take this week's example of what has the gendiboos shitting themselves: Jo liking a darkly humourous tweet saying "at least the Talibans know what a woman is". Someone tried to paint that as a) original tweeter was supporting the Talibans (yes, in this era where people can just say "kill yourself" to a celebrity over them claiming to like raisins); b) JKR herself implicitly supports the Talibans by proxy because she liked the tweet. Now, the person who said that claims to have received a cease and desist order. Gee, why would that ever happen??

… Yeah, i guess Jo's a little sensitive about that particular brand of defamation of her character. It's almost like, unlike these bozos, she actually cares about hate crimes against women.

Honestly i wish she'd actually take them to court, just once. She would absolutely wipe the floor with them and that would set the record straight for any more who wants to try her. And i'm not even saying that with her sake in mind tbh.

But for the sake of the ACTUAL WOMEN IN THE MIDDLE EAST SUFFERING THROUGH ISLAMIC REGIMES RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Like hey!! guys, gals and nonbinary pals! Maybe… just maybe?? we shouldn't use victims of horrible religious tyranny as pawns in some stupid gender wars?? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I know we're all convinced in our heart of hearts that JK Rowling is a big bad meanie, but maybe we could act like the better people we pretend to be for once and treat this topic with the seriousness it warrants?? ufuckingwu!

And since i had the unpleasant surprise to see that in the tag this morning: same thing with Ukraine. No, JK Rowling is not friend with Putin, she has actually helped Ukrainian refugees since the start of the war, and the fucking Harry Potter store being maybe still up in Moscow on Google Maps is the last of Ukraine's problems even if she had the actual power to shut it down (assuming GM's infos are even actualised).

Like, i can sort of laugh it out when these idiots make up bullshit about the Goblins being antisemitic caricatures. (Except, it's not actually funny, not when you take two seconds to think about the implications that a whole generation of people apparently think that this is what antisemitism is, OR, care so little about antisemitism that they are happy to pretend that this is it.) It's a whole 'nother business to pick victims of current wars and religious extremism and make up a story about how it's all some writer you don't like's fault. Those are real people ffs. Whom JKR is tangibly helping. What the fuck is Pink News doing for them, hmm? Not even showing them an OUNCE of decency and respect, that's what.

Anyways, apologies for this outburst. To answer your question : why do they do it? Hatred. Hatred is the point. It goes nowhere deeper than this i'm afraid.

[alpacaparkaseok]

How to Steal Moonlight |1|

Chapter 1. The Heist

→ Pairing: mafia!BTS x reader (not poly)

→ word count: 6.2k

→ warnings/tags: SFW, we stealin stuff, general sassery, Hoseok alludes to crimes committed in France because he's extra, paranoia, general love for life

→ a/n: HI I HOPE YOU DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT ME. We're here! We've made it! Chapter 1! I feel like there's so many things that I would've like to have included, but also, nothing's ever perfect. There's so so so much to come from this series, and I hope you enjoy experiencing it with me. as always, thank you! and pls come tell me what you're thinking, it gives me life. happy reading!

The world is set in tones of gray. It makes for a gentle greeting as you walk out into the cold morning. Taking a seat, you watch the mist slowly approach the deck like a wary child. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the ocean, peaceful and calm. It’s almost perfect.

            An apple crunches between someone’s teeth, obnoxious and loud.

            “Good morning, Victoria.”

The blonde doesn’t look at you, sitting just to her right. Instead, her mouth moves robotically as she chews the apple, eyes trained on something just beyond the mist.

            “I was under the impression that you were asleep.” Her voice feigns innocence, yet you know better. After all, it’s been you that’s been up at all hours of the night, listening to the distinct sound of an apple snapping under the force of her teeth. You’re at your wit’s end – so much so that even the sight of an apple flips a switch inside of you, making your blood pressure skyrocket.

            Even in the dim light of the pre-dawn world, the bags under Victoria’s eyes pop. Her hair lies across her shoulder with a dull, greasy sheen that only days on end without a shower can bring.

            “No. I wasn’t.” You stare with unbridled rage as she lifts the apple back to her mouth, opening wide for another bite. Acting on pure impulse, your hand shoots out, slapping it out of her hand with unnecessary force. The apple thumps to the ground and rolls, the force of your slap sending it careening off the deck and disappearing into the forest below. Victoria stares at where it fell with an absent frown on her face.

            You force a breath in only to find your lungs charged up with a swallowed scream. It’s the same one you’ve been repressing for a week now – a week filled with monitors that beep incessantly and quiet, whispered voices that cease when you walk into a room.

            “You know,” you begin, and you’re startled to hear the quake in your whisper, “someone that sits up all night eating god-forsaken apples and playing watchdog screams guilty conscience.”

            Victoria doesn’t bother looking at you – you’re unsure if she’s glanced your way since that fateful day that you let her walk free. Even when you found her here, sitting on the deck of your suite as if there was nowhere else she was supposed to be, she hardly looked at you.

            “An apple a day keeps the devil away.”

            “Doctor,” you hiss. “It keeps the doctor away.”

            A ghost of a smile flickers across her pale face as she reaches into her pocket, producing a bright green apple. “Sure.”

            Then she takes a bite.

--

            The small town of Julien looks like it could be out of a Hallmark film. Especially tonight, with the full moon and stars in full splendor. You remark as much to Seokjin, who stands beside you in the tree line.

            “Yeah, it does,” he says, voice muffled as he hides his mouth behind a chunky red scarf. “Do Hallmark movies end up like this, then?”

            He must be referring to the gallon of gasoline he’s holding up. The red container matches his scarf alarmingly well, which makes you wonder if he chose the color on purpose.

            You frown, thinking. “Well…most winter ones have some sort of fire, I guess. You know, sitting next to the fireplace, roasting chestnuts. It’s supposed to be romantic.”

            “This is basically the same thing, then.”

            “Really romantic.”

            “Isn’t it?” Seokjin’s head tilts to the same side a smile pulls on his lips, eye reflecting the lights of the village only 100 yards away. For a moment you see something deeper, a doorway to a memory over a year ago now, of the first night you met. The snow seeping into your boots could be the ash of a burned building that Seokjin stood in the center of as if it were his throne.

            Ducking his head so that his nose edges your cheekbone, he breathes out a laugh as you take a shaky breath. It’s always the same; some dark corner or secluded spot finds you going up in flames with your hired arsonist. Only this time, it’s not in your head. His deft fingers tug you closer, steadying you as you tramp over snow only to find yourself suddenly pressed up against the trunk of a tree.

            “Jin-” you half scold, half plead. His dark eyes rove your face, jaw clenched.

            “You’ll be safe in there?” You nod, but he shakes his head. “Say it.”

            “Y-yes,” you breathe out. You’ve hardly looked at him for weeks and suddenly he’s here, inches from you. It’s a flood of emotions you’ve yet to examine, staring you in the eyes.  

            “The plan. Repeat it.”

            You blink, craning your neck even as he hunches over, head hanging. His eyes remain closed, breath crystalizing in the cold air.

            “Are you…” you say, a laugh bubbling up in your chest that you tamp down. “Are you worried right now?”

            He hesitates before speaking, but when he does his voice is a rough strain against the night air. “I’m not…used to working with a conflict of interest.” Straightening, he turns to retrieve the gasoline he left abandoned in the snow moments before.

            “I’m your boss. Not a conflict of interest.”

            “You’re you. That’s enough of an issue, as far as I’m concerned.”

            Grinning, you step forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He smiles, eyes glimmering. “And the plan is simple enough. Ten minutes, tops. Grab any valuables within reaching distance. Jimin’s on the other side of the street waiting for us. They’ve been drinking pretty heavily for…” you check your watch, frowning. “A couple of hours, at least? You’ll run the distraction outside. Deal?”

            “So what, I’m nothing more than the thing that goes boom in this situation?”

            You shake your head. “I’m the muscle.”

            “What’s that make me?”

            “The pretty face.”

            Seokjin’s laugh is quiet as he leans down, close enough to touch. Yet neither of you dare to move, the same force holding you apart now as it has since the aftermath of Taehyung’s betrayal first began. Something flickers in his eyes, something you haven’t found a name for just yet.

            “Jin…” you whisper, almost afraid of the way it sounds like a plea. His eyes spark, dipping down to your mouth where his name sits on your lips. You haven’t spoken about what transpired between you two on the day of Yadiel’s death, but the ghost of it passes through you every time he looks at you. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he saw into your soul as you bore your heart to him amidst smoke and ruin.

            Eyes slipping shut, Seokjin looks almost innocent as he forces himself to relax. To refrain. You bristle, watching the walls snap up again.

            “Why do you do that?” You breathe out. He takes a step back, squaring his shoulders. Slipping the mask of the arsonist back into place.

            “Because one of us has to be able to function,” he quietly teases, even though every word sounding like a confession. Another step away from you, eyes turning to face the cabin. “Because we’re doing a job.”

--

            As much as Seokjin joked about his alarmingly good looks, you knew he’d rather stay in the shadows. He did so surprisingly well, reminding you of Hoseok’s uncanny ability to do so. Perhaps he’d learned more from the hitman than you realized.

            He went first, leaving you with a prolonged look that resulted in a hurried kiss atop your head before disappearing between the trees. Your heart rate picked up with each step he took, anxiety chipping away at your already frayed edges.

            Julien was a town you would’ve never visited if it weren’t for Jungkook. Placed into intensive care immediately following a gunshot wound to the chest that resulted in a collapsed lung, you went north of Queen’s Wharf to the small mountain village of Julien which had a renowned private hospital at its disposal. Since arriving three weeks ago, Jungkook had been placed into a medical induced coma while undergoing procedures to reconstruct his lung and ribcage.

            And now, you arrived at the heart of your problem.

            You were broke.

            “In position.” Jimin’s voice crackles to life in your ear. “Awaiting your signal.”

            It isn’t long before Jin responds, quiet voice skittering between your shoulder blades, making you shiver involuntarily. “Did she tell you I was just eye candy tonight?”

            “Oh, Seokjin.” Jimin sounds like he’s speaking to a kindergartener. “What did you think you were getting paid for?”

            Rolling your eyes, you begin to move out. The cabin up ahead is wreathed in light, looking like it was plucked out of the North Pole. You half expect to run into Rudolph on your long trek up, but all is silent around you.

            Save for the incessant chatter in your ear.

            “I knew you only wanted me for my body.”

            “Who? Me?” Jimin’s having too much fun sitting in the warmth of his car across the street.

            “What’s your position, Seokjin?”You grit the words out, ignoring their banter. “I’m approaching from the east side.”

            A pause, and then Seokjin’s answer. “I’m inside the shed.”

            “Nobody can see your face inside the shed, Seokjin,” Jimin chides with a note of laughter. You snort before you can catch yourself, feeling the tightness in your shoulders easing for the first time in weeks. “Kinda misses the point, doesn’t it?”

            “Shhh, I’m working,” Seokjin whispers back.

            Finally, the chatter stops. You’re close enough now that the shadows in the windows are clear, showing a few partygoers and caterers standing near the walls. The rest should be nearer the center of the house, right where the action is. The elite of New England crawling out of the colonial mansions to hide their satin dresses and Rolexes beneath down coats and skis that cost more than Jungkook’s hospital bills.

            Tonight, you’re one of them.

            “Ascending the stairs.”

            Abandoning the old knee-length coat in the snow to reveal a full-length emerald slip, you eye the wine glass someone left behind on the back deck. It’s easy to summon the rest, setting aside the questions nagging at you in the back of your mind and stumbling up the stairs toward the cabin.

            “Woah there,” a short man in a blue suit stands at the top of the deck, staring down at you with his mouth wide open. “What’re you doing out here? You’re going to catch hypothermia out there!”

            Fixing your paper-thin sleeve so that it stays on your shoulder, you laugh a little too loudly. “Trust me, we were plenty hot out there.” You hand him your glass, running a hand through your hair. “Have you seen my husband?”

            His eyes grew impossibly wider as his mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I- your husband? But who…” understanding dawns on his face as he flushes a deep red. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

            “Are you trying to make the news?”

            The voice that comes from the French doors is soft and almost as cold as the snow clinging to your ankles. Pulling your features into the picture of serenity, you turn to face the man standing in the entryway with a look that could kill you where you stand.

            “She does this, you know.” Hoseok strides forward, taking your arm in a firm grip. He hardly spares you a glance, instead focusing his attention on the poor man who has taken to staring down at the two wine glasses in his hands. “Last year we went on this amazing hiking trip in France only for her to wander off with our guide. You know what happened?”

            “Uh, no…”

            “What’s your name?”

            The man blinks, breath coming out in quick little spurts that make it look like he’s breathing out smoke in the frigid air. “Er, Roger. Sir.”

            Hoseok claps his hand on Roger’s shoulder, forcing out a dry laugh. “Well, Roger, let me tell you what happened. Our guide got lost. They thought they’d take a little midnight swim, but he forgot which way to find the lake. You see, the cliffs were to the west, which was right where he was heading. I suspect he realized his mistake on his trip down.”

            Roger’s face couldn’t get any more comical, but alas, his gasp shook the cabin itself. You squeeze Hoseok’s arm, but he shrugs it off.

            “Cut to the investigation, the DNA evidence, the strangely broken compass…” Hoseok spared you a look of pure disgust. “Well, you can piece it together.”

            “You…” Roger points a feeble finger your way, but Hoseok cuts him off.

            “Exactly. She loves making the news. Always wants to have a hand in the next great tragedy. Awful, isn’t it?”

            Leaning against him, you push out your lips in a pout. “I thought you liked that about me."

            Hoseok laughs, Roger’s mouth twisting into a half laugh as he stares on in confused horror. “Anyway, Renfield-”

            “It’s, er, Roger.”

            “Right. Roger. Would you mind keeping a lookout back here in case there’s any sign of the poor man she’s lured away tonight? I’ve got to get her home.”

            Roger could only nod, watching on as Hoseok practically dragged you inside. You nearly tripped over the entryway, bumping into him.

            Few people looked your way as you entered. You kept your focus on Hoseok as he guided you into the center of the house, to a large living area decked with live pine trees that almost touched the fifteen foot ceiling.

            Mistletoe hung from various stations, including a spot over the fireplace where a woman was straddling a man twice her age, her lips pressed to his.

            “We’re in, with a watchman on the deck,” Hoseok says conversationally. “At your leisure, Seokjin.”

            “Timer is set, you’ve got ten minutes. See you on the other side.”

            Squeezing Hoseok’s arm, you relinquish your hold on him at the same time he moves away from you. “Be honest, you enjoyed that way too much out there.”

            Hoseok beams, a laugh working past his lips. “I’m almost lost it at the end. Poor Renfield.”

            “Roger.”

            He shrugs. “Whatever.” Slipping off his suit jacket and placing it around your shoulders, he winks conspiratorially. Then he turns, disappearing into the swarm. You watch him go until he’s nothing more than a head bobbing in the crowd.

            You know what you need to do. It’d be hard not to when you’re practically drowning in wealth out here on the dance floor.

            First, you approach center of the floor where it’s only writhing bodies and the strong stench of alcohol. Here, nobody will notice hands brushing up against their bodies. They won’t notice their wrists feeling a little lighter, either.

            A gold bracelet embedded with diamonds slips off an older woman’s wrist. A young man’s Rolex is next, followed by two wallets. You turn and flash a smile at a man close to his forties who sidles up close to you. Grinning slyly, you slip around to his back, hands finding his shoulders before scratching the fabric of his shirt as your fingers slide down to around his biceps.

            “Does the jacket mean you’re taken?” He shouts above the music, eyes sparking with curiosity. You laugh sharply, squeezing his arm at the same time your other hand slips to his back pocket.

            “Probably in the same way that ring says the same for you.”

            He glances down at the wedding ring on his finger, shrugging dismissively. “Semantics.” Turning to face you head on, he frowns as he finds nobody there.

            No doubt that frown will deepen later when he realizes his wallet has mysteriously disappeared as well. Hiding in plain sight as you dance a few yards away with the suit jacket folded in your arms, you wonder if he’ll remember you when he thinks of his missing wallet. Perhaps he’ll be smart enough to put two and two together.

            Judging from the way he wastes no effort looking for you and moves on to a young brunette almost immediately, you seriously doubt he will.

            “Two minutes.”

            The sound of Seokjin’s warning triggers something deep inside you, and suddenly you’re imagining him standing before you, on the dance floor.

            It’d be empty save for the mistletoe and the fire crackling in the fireplace. He’d stand there in a suit, grinning at you as you trod on his feet. Perhaps he’d lean in close, lips brushing against your ear as he quietly sang along to the music. Then you’d turn in his arms, leaning back against him as his nose edged along the column of your throat-

            “Fire! There’s a fire!”

            You jump, jewelry clinking in the pockets of Hoseok’s suit coat. Heart in your throat, you swivel until you find the hitman, who stands on the second-floor landing where he’d been keeping an eye out for you while you performed your little heist. He nods and you move, making small circles around the room so as to not draw attention to yourself. A frenzy has taken up inside the cabin as the owner catches wind of the situation.

            “What’s going on out here?” Ulson Love demands, practically shoving Hoseok out of the way as he makes his way toward the back deck. The shed blazes in the distance, sending Ulson to leap off of the deck itself. The snow acts as some sort of cushion for the fall, but you still can’t help but peek out and enjoy the sight of Ulson struggling to gain his footing. Covered head to toe in snow, Ulson looks far from the dignified owner of one of the biggest pharmaceuticals in the nation.

            “He jumped!” Someone screams, while another holds their loved one close as if shielding them from a murder crime scene.

            “My jet-skis are in there!” Comes another voice, this one from Ulson’s oldest son, Frederick. “Dad! My jet-skis!”

            Barely managing to stifle a laugh, you abandon the crowd and head toward Hoseok. He chats with a handful of the other guests, feigning concern as well as he played the careless husband earlier.

            “Oh, there you are,” he says by way of greeting. You extend his suit coat out to him with a meaningful look. “Ready to head out? I daresay this party’s winding down.”

            The others chuckle knowingly, one in particular eying the way your slip clings to your thighs. Tilting your head so you make eye contact with him, you offer him a high-class sneer.

            “I thought New England was supposed to have some class.”

            Hoseok laughs, hand lighting on your shoulder and guiding you back down the stairs. “I’d forgotten – you’ve never come before.” Matching your disgusted expression bit for bit, he glances back at the others. “Rookie mistake.”

            Together you walk out the front door, which is already swarming with guests. Some make for their cars, where valets are rushing to get their jobs done. Most stand idly by, phones out as they vlog their wild experience in the otherwise quiet ski town.

            Across the street, Jimin flashes his lights. Waving at a group of influencers you’ve never seen before; you follow Hoseok to the car.

“Know them?” He asks.

“No.”

Hoseok snorts, shaking his head as you two near the Mercedes. Together, you slide into the back seat.

            “Have fun?” Jimin asks from the driver’s seat. Seokjin sits beside him, eyes on the rear-view mirror. You meet his gaze, flushing as you recall how lost you’d become daydreaming about him in there.

            “The best time.”

            “And,” Hoseok shakes the pockets of his suit jacket, listening to the sound of jewelry tinkling inside. “We stole stuff.”

            The car ride to the other end of town is lively, everyone feeling good for the first time since Jungkook got hit. Banter flows easily between Hoseok and Jimin, and you note that the two of them seem to have sprouted a friendship when you weren’t looking. Gone is the typical venom fueling their jabs.

            “We should be getting close…” Jimin says, eying the GPS. He slows to a stop as the road goes from pavement to dirt, groaning.

            “What?”

            He gestures around him, mouth open. “This is a dirt road! Yoongi never said anything about off-roading.”

            “I’d hardly call this off-roading,” Hoseok says, crossing his arms. “Although, look. Fresh snow.”

            Rolling down the window, you look outside to see the dirt road covered in freshly-fallen snow. Cursing, you duck back in. “Crap. I was really hoping to not leave tracks tonight.”

            “The Mercedes isn’t going down there,” Jimin says defiantly. “It’s divine intervention, the snow. We can’t leave tracks.”

            “You just don’t want to get mud on the tires,” Seokjin points out. He turns around in his seat, facing you. “Thoughts?”

            “How far away is the drop zone?”

            Consulting his phone, Seokjin’s brows crease in concentration. “Less than a mile.”

            “Great. Jimin? Pop the trunk.”

            “Huh?” You open the door, already halfway out of it. “Oh, alright. Cool. Let me just grab that for you.”

            You pull it open, already starting to plan ahead. It’ll take a while in this weather, especially if the snow worsens. But a job is a job, no matter the weather, right? All you’ll need are some thick socks-

            “Hey.”

            Seokjin appears, gazing down into the trunk. You stare up at him, wondering if you’re senses have really dulled that much over the past few weeks. He might as well have appeared out of thin air with how distracted you were.

            Instinctively you glance over your shoulder for any further surprises, but the only thing approaching on the street behind you is the falling snow.

            “This looks promising.” He’s pointing to the snowshoes taking up most of the trunk with a grimace that might be a twisted smile. “More difficult to track, doesn’t present a particularly unique footprint.”

            “Exactly.” You nudge his side, grinning up at him. “You read my mind.”

            He looks inclined to lean down a little closer but stops himself. “We’ll have to move quick, I’m sure this place will be crawling with the guests soon. Maybe the police if they sense foul play, which rich people almost always do.”

            “I wonder why.”

            Grabbing the bag you’d had the foresight to pack in case of an emergency, you quickly change into warmer clothes but find yourself with one dilemma.

            “Jimin?”

            You lean down to eye-level beside his door. It allows you a perfect view for when he shrivels up in anticipation for what you’re about to say. He sweeps his hair back – black now, instead of the blond you’d become so familiar with. It suits him, you think. Gives his glare an edge that it didn’t have before.

            “What do you want from me.”

--

            Jimin complains loudly as Seokjin backs the Mercedes up, placing the tire tracks over your footprints on the road. “This feels wrong. Awful.”

            “You’re not the one wearing the sweaty socks!” You call out. “It’s not natural, Hoseok. Nobody should be able to exude this much sweat in such a short amount-”

            The car tires squeal in their attempt to speed away, drowning out the rest of your words as well as Seokjin’s barking laugh. Hoseok waves a hang out the window as they leave, returning to the lodge where Namjoon and Yoongi await.

            Where Namjoon stands guard to Victoria, although the two of them haven’t so much as looked at each other since her sudden arrival.

            Jimin offers his arm to you, red scarf vivid against the backdrop of the village lights. “Shall we?”

            Holding up the bag – a grocery sack, no less – you accept his arm. “Let’s get this over with. I’m already freezing.”

            Together you set out, avoiding the dirt road entirely in favor of the woods. Sticking to the edge of the trees, you keep a wary eye out for any sign of movement among the shadows. Jimin remains just as cautious beside you, his breathing steady.

            The stars watch on, unmoving as you trek along. Occasionally you pass a sign for the abandoned mine; the historical site that originally put the small town on the map. Tonight it acts as your drop zone.

            Jimin keeps his eyes ahead, looking determined. He knows just as well as you do that the money tonight’s loot will bring in will prove not only to cushion your threadbare wallets, but it’ll prove something to you.

            “Operation went smoothly,” he remarks. The snow crunches with every step, the sound comforting.

            “It did.”

            He’s humming softly to himself, stepping along jauntily. It’s enough to bring a smile to your face, even as your mind drifts back to the lodge where the others await.

            “Interesting choice, having Hoseok in the cabin with you.”

            Your brows furrow, catching wind of his up-to-no-good tone. “What do you mean?”

            Jimin shrugs, seemingly taking great pleasure in having the upper hand for a moment. “Well, he played the role of your husband. A little interesting, considering the fact that your lover was just outside.”

            “I – what-”

            “Don’t worry,” Jimin laughs, waving off your dumbfounded expression. You’d thought you kept your preference for a certain arsonist under control the past few weeks, but apparently you weren’t nearly as stealthy as you’d imagined. “Your secret’s safe with me. Until it’s convenient for me to use as leverage and so on…”

            “How did you know?” You flush, heart stopping. “Our mics weren’t on earlier!” Balling your hands up into fists, you bite down on your knuckles. “Were they?”

            Gasping, Jimin smacks your hands down away from your mouth. “No! What were you two doing back there? In the great outdoors no less-”

            “Nothing! Just…talking.”

            “Well I’d like to talk more often, if that’s how it goes.”

            “Jimin.”

            He ignores your stern tone with another laugh. “Oh, relax. I saw him heading up to your room the other night, that’s all. Didn’t take much to piece it all together.”

            You blink, trying to recall what he’s talking about. Just as your about to deny the claim, you gasp. “Wait, really? Like three, four nights ago?”

            Jimin eyes you suspiciously. “Yeah, something like that. Are you telling me you don’t remember?”

            “No! It’s just…” You recall how lost you’d been that night, trying to convince yourself that it’d be fine if you left everyone behind to go find Taehyung. At that point, you didn’t care about slow, painful ways to make him regret what he’d done. A slipped knife in an alleyway would do well enough.

            Just as you began to devise a plan to get past Victoria, who never slept during the night, a knock had sounded at your door. Seokjin appeared, padding soundless across the floor before coming to a stop beside your bed.

            “Are you…” Seokjin swallowed, crouching down to meet your wide-eyed gaze. “Are you alright?”

            You must have managed some sort of affirmative response, because he nodded to himself, relief written across his features. He was shaking, you think. He looked pale, almost green in the moonlight.

            “Seokjin?” You croaked, feeling as if you were spinning. Half of your mind was gone, tracking down a traitor while the other half was there in your room, watching Seokjin with eyes wide enough that you thought you could catch every detail of his face as he watched you. “Did something happen?”

            He shook his head then. “No. No, nothing happened. It was all in my head.” He leaned forward, his hair tickling your jaw as he brushed a slow kiss against your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

            A snowflake lands on your eyelash, blurring your vision. Blinking it away, you find Jimin looking at you with confusion written in his eyes. “I thought that was a dream.”

            Quiet and then – “That good, huh?”

            “Jimin!”

--

            A single lamp hangs from the boarded up entrance of the abandoned mine. It casts an eerie glow on the ground, bringing you to a stop long before you can reach the circle of light. Jimin approaches it, hanging the bag on the lamp before retreating back to the cover of the trees.

            “Do we leave, or…?”

            “How many times have you done something like this?” You whisper, looking at him incredulously. Jimin raises a defensive hand.

            “Hey, I’m always the guy in the car, ok? Don’t ask me how the nitty gritty gets done.”

            Rolling your eyes, you settle down to wait. Jimin huddles beside you, checking his watch. Only ten minutes to midnight; the appointed pick-up time.

            “You know the guy?” Jimin asks.

            “No. Yoongi does, though. It’s his contact.”

            “And you trust Yoongi.”

            A loaded question. Do you trust anyone right now? “I trust his desperation. That’s all I need.”

            Jimin fixes you with a questioning look, but you ignore it, scanning the area instead. Most of the group knew very little about your deal with Russo – the one in which you signed Yoongi back to him. It was easy then, to promise Russo that if he’d help you take down Yadiel he could have his favorite pawn back. Of course, you hadn’t known then that Russo was in with Taehyung all along. It was a sure win for him.

            Now, he was out for blood. Your blood, specifically. With the Father, the head of the Genovese family, and the Kim’s at his side, it was only a matter of time before he found your little family and tore it apart.

            So, you needed assets. You needed connections.

            Money. What you really need is money.

            Yoongi understood that and more, of course. So tonight, you trust his desperation to remain free of the Father’s control.

            You just hope that extends to his client as well.

            The minutes tick by painfully slow, and you’re fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when Jimin nudges you, pointing toward a slowly approaching figure.

            Clothed in all white, they move cautiously but with an air of self-importance that you’ve seen before.

            Teeth bared, you’ve nearly clambered to your feet before Jimin has a hold of you. “Sit down,” he hisses, yanking you back. The white-clad figure looks your way, but can’t see past the trees to your exact location. Rushing forward, they grab the bag and check the contents.

            “I’ll have my jeweler inspect these,” they announce loudly, and only then do you stop fighting against Jimin’s iron grip. “We’ll be in touch shortly. Send Min my regards.”

            Only once they’ve disappeared through the other side of the woods does Jimin release you, glaring. “What was that all about? You nearly ruined that for us!”

            Rubbing your face angrily, you shake your head. “It was nothing.”

            “Nothing?”

            “Yeah.”

            His laugh is hard as ice. “Really? Because that didn’t look like nothing. The poor guy probably thought he was about to get jumped-”

            “I thought it was Tae-” the name gets caught like a ribbon on a fence, tearing itself in two. “Taehyung.” Jimin goes still, his mouth slackening. “He looked like Taehyung.”

            Already you’re walking, not wanting to hear the scoff bound to leave his lips. Poor little capa, she’s lost her mind. She’s seeing things, up in the night.

            Snow crunches as Jimin struggles to catch up, nearly falling on his face in the process. “And you were going to do what? If it was Taehyung.”

            You shake your head, mind spinning. For some reason the memory of Taehyung’s first meeting with Namjoon crops up on your head. The way he threatened Namjoon with his life when he displayed a single ounce of disrespect towards you.

            The way you dived in headfirst to his kiss that night after the gala. He needed me. He said he needed me, then.

            “I would’ve killed him.”

            Jimin doesn’t respond. He turns on his mic instead. “We’re on our way back from the drop zone.”

            Yoongi is the one who responds, clearly having tuned in for sake of being nothing other than nosy. “I’ll meet you on the road, then.”

            With that out of the way, you traverse most of the way back to the road in silence. Jimin no longer hums to himself as you walk, preferring to keep a furrowed brow as he thinks. You almost want to yell at him to spit it out already, but instead you take to reciting your grocery list in your head instead.

            Two gallons of milk.

            Gauze.

            Peanut butter.

            Pain meds.

            Eggs.

            Ammunition.

            The snow has stopped falling by the time Jimin finally says what’s on his mind.

            “I would’ve helped you, if it was him.”

            You blink away the list in your mind. “You would’ve?”

            Up ahead, a car pulls to a stop just before the dirt road. Yoongi. “Of course.” Jimin pauses, grabbing your shoulder and squeezing it tightly. “He’s a Kim. He deserves it by default.”

            Snorting, you approach the car. Yoongi rolls down the passenger side window, waving you over. “How’d it go?” He calls out.

            Climbing inside and ignoring Jimin’s pointed sigh as he takes the back seat, you hold your snow shoes to your chest. Yoongi looks expectant, almost hopeful.

            “Good, I think. We’ll hear from them soon. Once their jeweler figures it out.”

            Yoongi nods, pulling away. “That’s the best we can hope for, I guess.” He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you fiddle with the heater.

            “How’re things back at the lodge?”

            He’s quiet for a long moment, making your heart pick up speed. “Well….nothing if not eventful.”

            You meet Jimin’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Yoongi taps the steering wheel to some beat in his head. “Jungkook’s awake.”

--

            The lodge is a private care center. It houses families or other large groups, anonymously, why their loved ones are being cared for. Top doctors are paid very well to look after their patients.

            You hate the lodge.

            Hate the smell, the way it seeps into every surface and fabric within a mile radius. You hate the way you’re forced to smile and be polite while speaking with nurses day in and day out, listening for anything different.

            “No, Ms. Bianchi, there’s been no change.”

            “He’s strong, encourage him to keep fighting, Ms. Bianchi.”

            “He’s lucky to be alive, Ms. Bianchi.”

            He’s lucky. A miracle. A sign of divine help.

            “What do you mean, he’s awake?” Your voice sounds like it’s a thousand miles away as you stare at Yoongi, dumbfounded.

            He shrugs. “Woke up a couple of hours ago. I think Namjoon finally pestered him into waking up, to be honest.”

            Namjoon had taken to spending a significant amount of time in Jungkook’s room. He said it was because the kid had grown on him.

            You suspected it also had something to do with the fact that a certain ex-girlfriend of his was walking the halls.

            “He’s doing ok?”

            “Sounds like it. You’ll have to talk to the doctor.”

            The rest of the drive feels like it takes an eternity, but before you know it you’re pulling in to the large cabin. Yoongi’s hardly put the car into park before you’re leaping out of it, running up the steps to the front entrance. Seokjin’s there, opening it wide for you.

            “Yoongi told you?” He falls into step, keeping pace with your half-run.

            “As soon as we got into the car. He’s alright?”

            “Seems to be. He was asking for you.”

            A mixture of dread and hope form a deadly cocktail in your stomach, sending you into a full run down the hallways. Along the way you pass Hoseok and Namjoon, both of whom cheer wildly as you pass. Already the air feels alive, the world more complete because Jungkook is back in it.

            When you reach the hallway of Jungkook’s room, you don’t see anyone. The nurses must have just left, giving Jungkook his space. Seokjin hangs back, urging you forward.

            “Go on. You’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

            He doesn’t hang around long enough for you to say what’s on your mind. Bracing yourself, you take a deep breath.

            The inside of Jungkook’s room is clean. Several machines stand beside the bed, the familiar sound of his heartbeat welcoming you inside. And a man, laying in the bed with his gazed turned toward the window and the snow-covered forest below.

            “Jungkook.”

            Somehow, impossibly, he hears you. His eyes are on you, a smile on his face. How many times have you imagined this same scene in the past weeks? How many times have you said his name, only to find him deep in his medically induced coma?

            “Hey.”

            His voice. It sounds like sandpaper, but it’s his.

            “You’re awake.”

            “Appears that way.”

            You take another step in, but it’s all you can manage. “You were shot.”

            He smiles ruefully. “I recall.”

            “I-” you stop, eyes snagging on something out of place. “Those flowers. Those weren’t here this morning.”

            Jungkook glances at the lilies on his side table. “Oh? Who are they from, then?” He looks back at you only to find that you haven’t moved. You’re glued to the spot, staring at the flowers. “You alright?”

            From right here in the doorway, the flowers are angled just right. The card pokes up in the front, revealing an embossed snake. Your blood runs cold as you feel the shadow of lips ghosting along your knuckles and a whispered confession.

            Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

            The Kim family crest, sitting just so in the lilies at Jungkook’s bedside. And a laugh, deranged and crooked, ripping from your chest.

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