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Chapter 13- Shadow Phantoms

Link barely slept two hours that night. The day before kept replaying in his mind, and he kept tossing and turning from the anxieties gnawing at him from the inside. Rest was important, but by the goddesses, he couldn’t rest knowing that his son was in danger; he didn’t feel like he was allowed to rest, as if sleeping was the wrong choice to make at that moment. Even with the small amounts of sleep he found, it was nothing but nightmares—nightmares of never finding Kori again, nightmares of the beast killing everyone he loved, and nightmares that he couldn’t even remember. But the feelings lingered, and when he woke up with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he finally decided to get up. Though he tried to be silent as he got his things together, Uli opened the door to her room to greet him, a sad smile on her face. The two silently embraced each other, Uli holding tight to Link as his face buried into her shoulder. After a moment of hugging each other, Uli pulled back, giving him a firm look.

“Please be safe,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I will ma,” Link promised, “I’ll find pa and Kori.��

“I know you will,” she said in a small voice, rubbing her thumb gently against his cheek. She gave him a quick peck on the forehead and nodded, which gave him permission to leave. He bid a small farewell to Rela who was still sleeping and left the house, jumping on Epona and heading to his clearing. But where he expected emptiness, he saw Colin, who was waiting with Rusl’s horse and his sword in hand. He was pacing the clearing, spinning around when Link arrived, and he smiled as Link got closer.

“Hey!” He greeted when Link slowed down. “I figured you’d leave at this time.”

“What are you doing here?” Link questioned, fearing the conversation that would take place.

“Waiting for you, of course.”

“Well… I need to leave right now.”

“Great. I’m coming with you!”

Link sighed. Just as he thought. “You’re not coming with me.”

“Yes I am.”

“No, Colin. It’s too—“

“Dangerous?” Colin cut in, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. He still wore his green shirt, but instead of his Ordon skirt he wore blue pants that stopped in the middle of his calf, as if they were too small. A green bandana was tied around his forehead, and he wore straps that held his sword close to him—he looked like he was ready for a fight. Which meant convincing him otherwise was going to be a challenge. “Let me guess, you want me to stay back to protect Ordon?”

Link frowned. “Yes. Colin, don’t—“

“No! I know you and pa always say that my duty to stay behind is so important and I don’t disagree! But I’m not staying behind this time.”

“Colin, it’s not safe! Do you have any idea what we’re dealing with?”

“Yes! I do!” Colin shouted, his smug demeanor dropping to make way for frustration. “I fought it in Faron woods so it wouldn’t hurt Kori and Rela! It’s terrifying, but I’m not going to sit around and wait anymore! You guys need all the help anyway!”

Link sighed again, shaking his head. “I’m not arguing any further. You’re staying here.”

“I’m not asking for your permission.” Colin got closer, his expression turning dark. “That thing took my dad and my nephew. I’m not gonna let it get away with that.”

Link stared for a moment, truly seeing his little brother, the timid and quiet boy he once was, growing into a courageous young man. It almost hurt to see how much he grew up, his heart aching for the little boy, but he couldn’t help but feel so proud of him, knowing that he was willing to fight to protect those he cared about. It was always something Colin wanted since he was a child, and Link knew he couldn’t deny him that any longer. He finally looked down, ignoring Colin’s piercing gaze and nodded.

“Ok,” he agreed, and Colin looked surprised, as if he needed to fight more. But he quickly nodded and hopped onto their pa’s horse, a little grin on his face as he clutched his sword close to him.

“Ok! Where to?” Colin asked, and Link gave him a smirk.

“To Kakariko.”

“Oh! Right! To Kakariko!” He cheered, sheathing his sword on his back and turning to Link with a determined look in his smile. “Let’s go save Hyrule.”

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

The ride to Kakariko felt tense as Link and Colin pushed their horses as fast as they could, every movement making Link jump out of his skin. He had his sword drawn, not daring to sheath it as the world flew past them, as if danger would attack in any moment. Colin was clearly feeling his anxiety, and his excitement for finally tagging along was gone as he stayed close to Link, though Rusl’s horse was nowhere near as fast as Epona. The two brothers reached Kakariko before the sun began to set, and to Link’s surprise, it was eerily empty—a stark contrast to how it was when he last visited. Colin got off his horse and looked around with his brows furrowed, his hand moving his sheath to his hip.

“Where is everybody?” He asked softly, so soft that Link almost didn’t catch it.

“No idea,” Link replied, feeling uneasy as he got off of Epona. The two began to lead their horses through the empty town, with Colin calling out a “hello” here and there, but they got no responses. Occasionally Link would spot a villager watching them silently through a small crack in their window, before closing it harshly, the sound ringing out in the air. Colin huffed, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced at Link.

“What in the Spirits’ names happened here? Why are they all hiding?” Colin turned back to the buildings, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “we’re not here to hurt you! You can come on out!”

A noise was heard from the other side of the village, and Link and Colin got their hopes up that someone was finally showing up to explain things to them. But instead of villagers, Link saw a group of people on horses riding towards them, and he immediately spotted the resistance riding in the front.

“Looks like backup is here,” Link said, and he waited for the group to meet up with them. Shad was riding behind Ashei, who had a determined look on her face, Auru was on his own horse and he bore a relieved smile as he watched Link and Colin, and to Link’s surprise, the King of Hyrule himself was riding behind them, with a group of forty soldiers or so following. He didn’t know the king was going to show up, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Glad you boys made it safely,” Auru said, grunting as he hopped off his horse, “I thought we were gonna have to hunt ya down.”

“Ha, when we showed up with no one in sight, I thought we were gonna have to hunt you down,” Link chuckled, poking Auru in the chest. The old man laughed and looked over at Colin, resting his hand on his shoulder.

“Glad you could join the team, boy.”

Colin’s round ears went pink and he looked down, fiddling with his fingers in front of him.

“I—I just want to help in any way I can,” he muttered, and Auru nodded.

“I understand. You’re no doubt worried about your old man.”

“Yeah… Worried about him and my nephew.”

Ashei and Shad walked up to the group, with a proud smile on Ashei’s face.

“We need all the help we can get, Colin. Welcome to the resistance,” she said, holding out her hand, and Colin’s eyes practically popped out of his head as he gingerly took her hand and shook it.

“Thanks,” he breathed, clearly feeling nervous from the attention.

“Pardon me.”

The resistance turned their heads to see King Edmund walking over to them, his hands behind his back and his eyes narrowed.

“Forgive me for making assumptions, I’m not as familiar with Hyrule as I should be, but I was told that Kakariko was a booming town, with a growing population.” King Edmund turned his head to stare at the closed and quiet buildings. “Where is everyone?”

“Hey!”

Link turned to look at the sanctuary, where Luda was peeking out from, her sword in hand. Her eyes traveled between each person, her gaze finally landing on Link and Colin.

“Link, Colin, you’re here?” She asked, almost to herself, and Colin jogged up to her.

“Luda! What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

Luda shriveled a little, almost hiding into the sanctuary as they got closer, but she pulled herself together and gestured to the inside with her head.

“Come inside, I’ll explain everything.”

The army King Edmund brought stayed outside, keeping an eye on things, but he and the rest of the resistance headed inside. There were some injured and sick huddled against the walls, but what caught Link’s attention was Barnes sitting in a corner, his leg in a cast and his head hung. Both Link and Colin immediately traveled over to him without thinking, and the man raised his head when they got closer.

“Barnes,” Colin started, looking him over, “what happened?”

“Oh kid…” Barnes mumbled, his voice ragged with his usual character and charm sucked out of him. Link frowned, resting his hand on the man’s shoulder. Being up close, he could see his bumps and bruises scattered all over his body.

“Um… Link, Colin,” Luda started, her voice shaking, “Barnes and my father went to the Gorons to tell them to stay inside at night and…. When they were coming back—”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Colin whispered, his expression filled with horror. Luda nodded, her eyes welling up with tears.

“He-he went missing. M-my papa is missing and—” Luda broke down crying, her head in her hands. Link moved to comfort her, but Ashei beat him to it, with her arm wrapped around her. Colin sat down next to Barnes, his expression defeated.

“Not Renado,” he whimpered.

It was uncomfortably silent as Luda cried, with Link standing near Barnes and Colin clearly fighting back his own tears. Link should’ve been fighting back tears as well; Renado was like a second father to him. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to cry. He could only feel anger and fury growing stronger and stronger. That beast… it was taking everyone he cared about…

“You were with her father?” King Edmund cut in, interrupting Link’s thoughts, and Barnes raised his head again.

“Yes.”

“What did you see? When was this?”

Barnes shifted, clearly agitated from the questions. “I didn’t see nothin’. I fell down the mountain and Renado was gone. All that was left was his bow.” Barnes sighed, shaking his head. “Broke my ankle in the process. It all happened yesterday morning.”

Shad and Auru glanced at each other, shocked expressions on their faces.

“That thing moves fast.” Auru said. “It just attacked Castle Town yesterday.”

“It must’ve moved straight from Faron, to Kakariko, and then to Castle Town,” Shad continued, his finger stroking his chin. “It seemed like Kakariko was just a pit stop for it.”

“Indeed,” King Edmund agreed. “Is this why everyone is inside?”

“Yes,” Luda sniffed, nodding her head. “Everyone was frightened so they went into their homes.”

“Staying inside just to be picked off one-by-one,” King Edmund muttered to himself. “Well, do not fret any longer, we’re going to eradicate this threat and try to save the abducted people.”

Ashei nodded and gave Luda a squeeze. “We’re going to find your father, Luda. Everything will be alright.”

Luda nodded and sniffed again, leaning into Ashei’s touch. It grew silent for a moment until Barnes raised his head again, his brows furrowed.

“What is causing these disappearances?” He asked, his voice low. “Renado was about to tell me before I fell down the mountain.”

“It’s a shadow beast,” Colin answered before Link could, his gaze piercing into the ground. “A mutated shadow beast that has grown powerful enough to become a serious problem.”

The silence grew heavy, and Barnes rubbed his face as sweat began to drip down his brow.

“Cripes,” he muttered. “Well that’s the last thing I wanted to hear.”

“A shadow beast?” Luda repeated. “But—it—my father is long gone then.”

Link shook his head quickly. “No. He’ll be fine, they’ll all be fine.”

“But—the shadow beasts turn people into more shadow beasts—”

“No!” Link’s voice began to raise and he stood up abruptly. “They’re going to be fine! We’re going to save all the people the shadow beast took, alright? So stop thinking that it’s over because it’s not!”

Ashei’s expression went dark and she subtly shook her head. Link frowned and looked away, feeling like he reacted too much there.

“Look, don’t assume the worst,” he continued, trying to control himself, and he dared to look Luda in the eyes, “don’t assume the worst yet. Don’t give up on your pa.”

Luda shuffled her feet but nodded, smiling slightly. Link nodded back and let out a huff, feeling eyes piercing into him like arrows to his skin. He couldn’t take it.

“I’m gonna go take a breather,” he muttered, weaving his way around the crowded sanctuary and bursting through the door. The soldiers of Hyrule all looked at him, but he turned away, walking to the Kakariko spring and sitting down, staring at the sparkling water lap against his boots.

“They’re going to be fine,” he whispered, glaring hard at the water. “Please, let them be fine.”

“Link?”

Link didn’t turn around, knowing that Colin was approaching him from behind. His little brother carefully sat beside him, leaving space between the two as he rested his hands on his knees, staring at the water. They were silent, with Colin clearly trying to think of what to say, so Link sighed and decided to speak for him.

“Did I sound too mean?” He asked, and Colin gave him a surprised look.

“W-well… you sounded…. Sorta mad.”

Link shook his head, disappointed in himself. “Poor Luda. I didn’t mean to come off that way.”

“It’s ok. You—” Colin paused, staring at the water for a moment. “I guess all that talk was stressin’ you out?”

Link groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t—I have to believe that they’ll be alright.”

Colin nodded, staying silent.

“If I believe that they’re in trouble I will lose myself! I—I can’t have that type of talk right now,” Link whimpered, and Colin nodded again.

“I understand. We have to have hope.”

Link sighed, lightly tapping Colin’s arm. “I should apologize to Luda. She’s clearly upset and I’m just makin’ it worse.”

Colin got on his hands and knees, following Link’s lead as they stood up. “Yeah. I doubt she’s upset with you, though. I mean, Ashei seemed pretty upset, but Luda seemed fine. Apologizing wouldn’t hurt—what is that?”

Link paused, looking over at Colin who was on one knee, staring at the Kakariko gate. Link turned to see what he was looking at, and he spotted a silhouette of a person.

“It’s just a guy, Colin,” Link said, but his little brother shook his head.

“No, something’s wrong.”

Link stared hard at the person, and he was able to pick up on what Colin was talking about. The person was wavering, their legs swinging and stomping on the ground as if they would collapse, and whatever they were wearing, it was dark in color, almost looking like a void standing out in the red rocks Kakariko was known for. Link stood up straight, walking closer to the mysterious person.

“Wait, Link—“ Colin protested, but Link ignored him, feeling concerned for the person more than anything. But as he got closer, he saw that something was deeply wrong. The person was huge, towering over Link, with dark, thick armor. In its hand was a heavy sword being dragged across the ground, leaving a trail of torn up dirt, and a mouth was gaping open from beneath the helmet. Just as Link was about to draw his sword, the thing suddenly bolted towards him, and he flinched as he brought out his shield just in time for the heavy sword to ram into him. Link went flying, landing harshly against the rocky wall and onto the ground.

“Link!” Colin called out to him, and Link scrambled to his feet, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest as he pulled out his sword, snarling at the titan standing before him. The heavy sword swung down on him again, but Link was able to roll out of the way. In one motion, he got to his feet and jumped in the air, spinning his sword around him and slicing the armored monster’s back. Pieces went flying, metallic noises of the armor falling to the ground ringing out, and the creature swung its sword at Link again, like a gibdo after paralyzing its prey. Link jumped out of the way and backed up next to Colin, who had his sword drawn.

“I don’t think that’s a person,” Colin commented, “it’s more like… a phantom of a person… with armor.

Link let out a bitter laugh. “And what made you think that?”

The armored beast charged again, making Link and Colin dodge before it rammed into them. The soldiers behind them began to panic, with orders being yelled out frantically and many running over to help the two brothers.

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!” One soldier yelled, and Link heard shouting from the other side of Kakariko. Just above the soldiers, he made out another armored beast emerging from Goron mountain, marching towards the group.

“Well isn’t that just great,” Link growled, looking over to Colin. “You think you could handle this guy?”

Colin looked over and nodded. “I got him. Go take care of the other one.”

Link grinned at him before bolting to the other armored phantom, weaving and zipping past the soldiers who watched in horror as the thing got closer. But before it could reach the soldiers, Link broke from the frontlines, jumping high and slamming his sword onto the armor. The impact rippled through his muscles, and the armor cracked under the pressure, sending the armored phantom stumbling back. Link landed on the ground, rubbing his sore arms and snarling at the phantom as it recovered from the hit. It stumbled over to him, and Link brought up his shield to smack it before it could try anything, and when it was off balance, he jumped in the air again, flipping while tearing his sword through the helmet. Landing on the ground with a roll, Link spun to see the helmet cut cleanly in half, the phantom’s head revealed, and his blood froze. It looked just like the shadow beast, though its head was more round and had no tendrils coming out of its body. And instead of leathery black skin, it seemed like it was dripping with the black ooze that would come out of the beast. It wasn’t a phantom of a human, it was a phantom of the beast itself.

Its yellow teeth separated, the jaw unhinging as a shriek suddenly escaped its throat, ringing out and shaking Link to his core. It took charge as he tried to recover, and Link was soon pinned beneath the large creature, its teeth gnashing at his face to rip it off. Link growled and threw the shadow’s phantom off of him with a strained yell, grabbing his sword and stabbing the phantom right through its open mouth. His sword pierced through the back of the mouth, hitting the ground beneath the writhing monster, and as black blood oozed out of the creature’s mouth, it stopped moving and finally died. The body dissipated into twilight magic, slowly fading into nothing and leaving behind the battered armor. Link sat there for a moment, staring at his sword that was embedded into the ground, until he heard footsteps to his side.

“Looks like the shadow beast made some new friends,” Auru said, and Link looked up to see the resistance, including King Edmund, watching him. Link sighed and stood up, sheathing his sword.

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” he replied. “When did you guys get here?”

“We heard shouting and fighting,” Ashei said, crossing her arms. “Shame you and Colin took all the fun.”

“Where’s Colin?”

“I’m here!”

To Link’s relief, his little brother pushed through the crowd of soldiers, black blood covering his arms but he had a relieved grin on his face.

“Me and the soldiers took care of the other one!”

“Woah, what about us?” Auru argued light-heartedly. “We helped a little at the end!”

Colin smiled and shook his head. “They helped a bit.”

“Ouch.”

King Edmund nodded, looking at Link with a twinkle in his eye. “Yes. But I must say, that was phenomenal fighting there, Link!” The king suddenly walked up to him, shaking his hand with excitement. “It was like watching a dance, I couldn’t look away at how you fought with such skill and grace!”

Link smiled nervously. “R-really? I was just fighting.”

“Yes, but you needed no help, and you fought with such mighty strength. You’d give my brothers a hard time, and I don’t put that lightly!”

“I—thank you.”

Edmund nodded before pulling away, staring at his white glove that turned black due to the blood on Link’s hand. He made a face of disgust as he stared, and Link started to wipe his dirty hands on his already dirty clothes.

“Sorry, your highness. I don’t think that’s gonna come out,” he chuckled nervously. Edmund simply sighed and looked down at Link again, nodding.

“Well, there are more important things than ruining a good pair of gloves. Everyone listen up!” Edmund turned to the soldiers, the resistance, and the few villagers that left their homes to see what was going on. “The beast has clearly learned some new tricks—creating monsters to fight for it. Though it’s a dire situation, it’s a lead as to where it is. We’ll split up, find these monsters, and hope that they can lead us to the shadow beast!”

The soldiers all cheered in response, and Edmund turned to Link. “If you wouldn’t mind, Link, could I travel by your side?”

Link was taken aback as he looked over to the resistance, and Auru gave him a nod.

“Sounds like a plan, your highness,” he said, putting his shoulder on Ashei. “Me and these kids will move out to find more of these creatures. Link, you’ll go with the King. There’s no one better to protect His Highness.”

Link nodded at the resistance before turning to King Edmund. “I’ll go with you, but only if my little brother Colin goes too.”

King Edmund bowed his head, which Link assumed was a “yes”, and he turned to the soldiers. “I expect nothing but effort to be put into this search. It’s time for you men to represent and protect your kingdom.”

The king soon began ordering the soldiers around, splitting them into groups while Link watched with his hands fidgeting with each other. Colin walked up to him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“What do you think this means?” He asked, and Link glanced up at him. “Nothin’ like this has ever happened before.”

Link shrugged. “I think the shadow beast realized that we ain’t pushovers, and it’s finally releasing its true power. I just hope finding these shadow phantoms will lead us to its den.”

Colin pursed his lips, crossing his arms as he watched the king.

“I hope Pa and Kori will be ok,” he whispered, and Link watched his little brother’s worried face before wrapping an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close to him.

“I hope so too.”

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

Consciousness came to him at once. Kori gasped as his eyes shot open, and he sat up abruptly, his heart beating a mile a minute. He looked around him frantically, feeling the dread of danger around him, and his eyes landed on the shadow monster that’s been tormenting him and his family. Kori would’ve let out a shriek of fear, but someone covered his mouth aggressively, pulling him close so he wouldn’t flinch away.

“Quiet,” a woman’s voice whispered so quietly, he almost didn’t hear her. Kori glanced up at the one holding him, and it was the ninja person from before, her gray eyes watching the beast intently. “It’s asleep, we must escape.”

Kori nodded, glancing back at the beast while standing on his shaky legs, and he looked back at the ninja person, spotting his grandfather passed out below him.

“Grandpa Rusl—” Kori started, but the ninja shot him a warning look, her eyes glancing over at the beast, though it stayed unmoving. The ninja looked down at Rusl, smacking his cheeks gently which caused him to stir. His eyes opened, though it looked like it required a lot of effort, and he began to glance around with his eyes widening in confusion. His mouth opened, but the ninja already covered it, her finger up to her covered lips while the other pointed at the sleeping beast. Rusl’s eyes widened even further, and he finally stood up while instinctively pulling Kori closer to him. The ninja then grabbed Rusl’s arm and began to lead them away from the beast, the group stepping over rubble and debris scattered around. It made Kori wish he had shoes.

They left the room they were in, and it was clear to Kori that they were in a building of sorts, with pillars, cobblestone, and other materials houses were made of littering the place. Though it didn’t look like the building he was in before, with the purple wallpaper and portraits of Malo decorating the place. Where was he?

Rusl stumbled a bit, his grip on Kori loosening, and the ninja grabbed onto him before he could topple over. His grandfather looked strangely groggy, as if he was fighting to keep his eyes open, and he wavered before finally grounding himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and the ninja resumed their escape. The building they were in was strange, with long stretches of hallways leading into multiple rooms, some holding desks and beds inside of them. Kori’s never been in a building like this before, save for the castle. It was eerie being in a place clearly built for hundreds of people, only for a soul to be nowhere in sight. What was even more eerie about the place was how dark it was, with no windows letting in light for them to see. Fortunately, Kori was able to see relatively fine, but the ninja and his grandpa were struggling to see where they were going, causing them to stumble and trip over rubble, which didn’t help his grandpa’s fatigue. Once again, he stumbled and nearly took the ninja down with him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologized, holding himself up by the wall.

“Are you ok?” the ninja asked, and Rusl shook his head.

“It feels like my body weighs a thousand pounds… I feel so weak.”

Kori huddled up next to his leg, which resulted in Rusl resting his hand on his head.

“I’ll be fine, Kori. Let’s just focus on gettin’ outta here, yeah?”

The ninja nodded and continued walking through the ruined building, the group running into dead end after dead end, with Kori feeling more and more scared the longer they were in there. He heard his grandpa’s breathing grow heavier and louder as they walked, with his whole body sagging more and more. It was odd how he was acting in such a way—was he sick?

“Finally!” The ninja exclaimed quietly, running up to a small hole in the wall where dim light shone through. The ninja waited for Kori and his grandpa to catch up, and when they did, she jumped through the hole, landing on the gray grass below. She began to observe her surroundings while Kori walked to the edge, eyeing the height nervously.

“Sheik.” Rusl called out to her, and the ninja—Sheik—looked up at him. His grandpa picked Kori up and gently lowered him down to where Sheik was, and he was grabbed and put down on the ground, finally out of the creepy building. Rusl began to follow, lowering himself down, but Kori noticed how his arms shook, and his grandpa suddenly lost his grip and fell harshly to the ground with a yell. Kori gasped and ran to him, helping him sit up as he grimaced painfully.

“Are you ok?” Sheik asked, offering her hand, and Rusl waved it away.

“I’ll be fine, I’m just not feeling well.” Rusl groaned, rubbing his back. “I hope that thing didn’t hear me.”

“We best move, just in case,” Sheik said, and Rusl nodded, scrambling to his feet while Kori helped him. Sheik waited a moment, watching her surroundings, and Kori glanced up at the skies. The sky was a bright orange, with dark purple clouds flowing through the silent wind. The plants and grass were dull in color, looking dark against the sky, and black squares floating up and disappearing. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“Where are we?” Rusl asked, his neck craned to look at the sky. Sheik didn’t say anything, she only stared at the sky with her back turned to them. Kori glanced up at his grandpa who was glaring ahead, and Sheik finally turned to look at them, her eyes wide.

“I know where we are…” She muttered, her voice sounding shocked.

“Where are we?” Rusl repeated, his voice having an edge to it. “Are we in Gerudo Desert or something?”

Sheik shook her head, and Kori glanced at Rusl again, who looked more worried now.

“We’re in the Twilight Realm.”

[that-ari-blogger]

IDK How to Title This (King's Tide)

There’s something fascinating about meaning. Not just the answers we draw from texts, but how we do that, and just how much informs our readings thereof.

There are so many conflicting elements that change our perspective on things, from authorial bias to external circumstances, to coding, to our own life experiences. Meaning is dynamic.

The best example of this is actually Tumblr. There is a recurring thing on this website of misinterpretation caused by factors the original poster had no idea about. You said A but because I experienced B, I interpret what you are saying as C.

This is nuanced, and it’s important to understand when it is happening so you don’t pick fights with people who absolutely do not deserve it, but at the same time, on a smaller scale, it’s almost unavoidable. The variety of interpretation, that is. Don’t pick fights, that part is easy to not do.

In the context of The Owl House, King’s Tide was the last episode. There were no more afterwards. There was no season three. So, everyone who watched it knowing that got a very specific reaction.

But then we did get a Season Three, and suddenly this stops being the series finale. Suddenly, the meaning changes.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (The Owl House)

In 1994, American rock band Soundgarden released their fourth album, called Superunknown. It would go on to achieve iconic status and be the band’s breakthrough album, but more importantly, it would be one of the few albums that I own on CD.

This is the Black Hole Sun visual, despite the fact that it 100% is not.

Genuinely, I went mad trying to find this, because it wasn’t just that the vibes were aligned. I was convinced that I had seen this specific visual before.

I hadn't. I wasn’t on to anything here.

The cover for the single version of Black Hole Sun looks like this:

And the album cover for Superunknown looks like this:

They aren’t even close. So I, brought out my CD case, which looks like this:

Now, we are talking. It isn’t exactly the same, but it’s something I can work with. Once again, I came into this thinking I had seen the specific visual of a black hole in a beam of light before, and I was wrong, but I wasn’t off by a mile.

As a last-ditch effort, I looked up covers of the song and found one by Voiceplay that I listen to fairly frequently.

Slightly closer, but it came out in April 2024, almost a year to the day after The Owl House’s finale aired. I remember watching King’s Tide for the first time and doing the Decaprio pointing thing.

The Voiceplay arrangement is good, here’s a link to it so you can check it out. But there is no way their version could have rewired my brain if it didn't even exist yet.

Which brings me back to the question of why do I bring this up? If it is only tangentially relevant, what is the point?

Complexity of interpretation.

This is the closest shot I could find in The Owl House to any of the Black Hole Sun official imagery. But I want to stress that I am shifting the goal posts sommat savage.

Whether it was intended or not, my reading of King’s Tide and the draining ritual is inextricably linked to Black Hole Sun, and I actually think that is fascinating.

It is important for me to understand that this is my bias speaking and not the actual text, but again, it’s not something that is avoidable. It’s just something that happens in the human brain.

Meaning is complex, and in this case in a way that the creators most likely did not account for. But Black Hole Sun is a part of how I draw meaning from the story, and since this is a blog about my own thoughts and analysis, it needs to be dwelled upon.

Black Hole Sun is nihilistic, kinda.

It is one of those songs that resists interpretation because it wasn’t written with one in mind. Soundgarden was just trying to put lyrics to a page to support the atmosphere of the title, and as such the song is surreal first and foremost.

Combine this with the genuinely unnerving music video and you get a song that, to me, seems to be about a disillusionment with reality. It is the nihilistic “nothing matters” that is maddening and uncaring. It views life as a but a stage or a game for pantomime theatrics.

Hey, would you look at that? The draining spell is the manifestation of Belos’ nihilism brought about by his own bigotry. The man doesn’t view the Boiling Isles as real; he treats the world like a chessboard, that’s why it doesn’t occur to him that he can lose. Why would the pawns turn on their player?

This also relates to the Collector a bit though, doesn’t it. Someone obsessed with games to the point of cosmic indifference.

But their time to shine will come in another post.

Belos is interesting as a villain because he is fundamentally wrong. He doesn’t have a sympathetic motive that he took too far. He’s not out for revenge. He’s an eejit.

Black Hole Sun is, as has been stated, surreal. Which implies a lot about the mindset of the musician. The world is hopeless here, but that’s not how the world looks.

It’s fake, the entire song is pointedly distanced from reality. Nihilism is based in misconception.

This is foreshadowing. Eda's arm being able to detach is a Chekhov's gun in the final moments. But also... look at Raine's face. They are sad, and melancholy. They aren't smiling. It is imperative to understand that Raine smiles once in this episode, and it will hurt you.

As a side note, my thesis for The Owl House is that it is about freedom, and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that in 2014, Chris Cornell (the band’s singer, drummer, and frontman) gave an interview with Uncut Magazine, in which he claimed the following in relation to the line “times are gone for honest men”:

“It’s really difficult for a person to create their own life and their own freedom. It’s going to become more and more difficult, and it’s going to create more and more disillusioned people who become dishonest and angry and are willing to f*** the next guy to get what they want. There’s so much stepping on the backs of other people in our profession. We’ve been so lucky that we’ve never had to do that. Part of it was because of our own tenacity, and part of it was because we were lucky.”

Freedom is stepping on people’s backs. It is something to be taken. Except that no it is not. Freedom is something you can claim otherwise, with a bit of luck, and a bit of willpower. You don’t have to claim it at anyone else’s expense.

I will talk more in depth about character design in a later post, but it is a character beat for Belos to take off his cloak as he comes this close to winning. Symbolically, he has been a witch hunter under it all, wearing the outfit under a mask and facade. But to him, he wants to win as a human, because he is a bigot. He wants to distance himself in his own head from the people he is about to mass murder. He wants to look the part. To whom? To himself. The man is acting, fantasising about heroes and villains. He is caught up in his own story. He is a dark mirror to Luz, her equal opposite. With the differences being that one, Luz could change and see the world as more than its archetypes, and two, Luz can see people as people, where Belos can only see them as characters in his own story. Luz is kindness and change, Belos is cruelty and stagnation.

There is another image of a blacked-out sun that has been used in real world history. The Schwarze Sonne, an icon in Nazi Germany and Neo-Nazi imagery. It is not my area of expertise and to my limited knowledge, the symbol isn't a direct one to one with anything in The Owl House. But I feel it would be disingenuous to not link the genocidal bigot to the aesthetics of the ideology that he invokes.

Just in case anyone was still unsure as to what kind of person Belos is.

Belos is also a poster child for something I will never miss a chance to harp on about. The futility and self-sabotage inherent in evil and cruelty.

He could have kept his trap shut. He could have told the collector to wait until after the draining spell. He could have kept the collector in his lab where he could see them. But no, he knew he had already won, so he chose to gloat, and that directly caused his demise.

The collector defeats Belos. They didn’t have a reason to hate him until he threw them off a cliff, and they didn’t have a way of getting free until he gave Kikimora a motivation to lead king to them. Belos is an eejit who claims to be a mastermind but is in reality just willfully ignorant.

That’s his dichotomy with Luz. Curiosity vs ignorance, kindness vs cruelty, expression vs restriction, freedom vs control, knowledge vs power.

Blight robots are instrumental in the end of the world. The rich industrialist has doomed the world for power. I am shocked.

To me, it is important that this doesn’t just affect Belos.

You can’t educate someone whose mind is closed, sure. I agree with that sentiment. You will just cause yourself more misery. However, their anti-intellectualism will actively do you harm as it will make the world worse, so you need to combat them in some way shape or form.

Facts and logic don’t work, so Luz has to appeal to his emotions to just stand in the same room as him. When that fails, she has to fight him outright.

Making a deal with the villain while half in shadow and half in light. Presenting the lit side openly while the hand in shadow is also hidden behind Luz's back to signify duplicity. I think there's some symbolism here but I just can't quite figure it out.

Speaking of whom, Luz is a mess this episode. She is trying to get herself killed, and that matches the rest of the isles. There is not going to be a tomorrow, there will not be another episode after this, so everyone is trying to go out in a bang.

Except, there is a tomorrow. There is momentum that has to go somewhere, and the only direction it has is forwards.

The final moments of this season, and of The Owl House, are of the brutal realisation that life keeps moving. You have to treasure the moments while you have them, because if you keep fearing the future, it will come, and you will have missed every opportunity to do anything about it.

That is a through line in this entire episode. The future is not what you expect. Every plan fails. The draining spell, the rebellion, the coven heads’ plan for paradise. Everything goes pear shaped. The future is never what you expect, just treasure the moments you have, and roll with the punches.

Always try to make the world a better place, don’t get me wrong. The show firmly takes the stance that evil can and should be fought against, but two things can be true. Treasure the moment and change the future are two phrases that must stand side by side.

And yes, that has been the theme of The Owl House as a whole, hasn’t it? Luz has been afraid of returning to the Human Realm because that signifies her future and maturity, meanwhile the Boiling Isles is the moment she is in, the treasure that she is missing out on because of that fear of the future. She can’t make a decision, so life chooses for her.

But rewind a bit. This episode is a masterclass in building dread.

Everything in this episode is pointing towards the one end point. The A and B plots are perfectly aligned in this episode. Both are trying to stop the spell, they are just in two different locations.

Usually, these disparate storylines are separate, with one usually acting as the main story while the other provides comic relief and supplements the themes.

Find me a joke in King’s Tide. There are exactly two. One at the start with Amity and finding out about her nickname, and the second at the end with Hunter’s expression when faced with the collector.

You will note that neither of these are particularly funny, but Hunter’s reaction to cosmic horror will draw out at least a smile because the entire episode leading up to it renders that moment hilarious.

Eda tries to find humour, but that actively worsens the mood because it draws attention to how out of place her comedy is. It’s not funny because of its context.

However, there is another plotline. Let’s call it the C plot, and that is King and the Collector.

This should be a deus ex machina, or god from the machine. This should break the story, the hand of the author shown to get the protagonists out from the corner they have been written into. But it isn’t.

We have seen King discover the Collector over the past few episodes. He hasn’t known what they were, but the two have been shown to be connected.

Now, we see all the dominos slot into place, then start falling. We see King, Kikimora, and the Collector all arrive in the same place, and we see King drastically misinterpret the power of what he is dealing with.

But I want to be clear here, why would he know better? Why would anyone know better? As far as he is aware, this is something that can stop Belos, and he needs a Hail Mary. What would you do if you were given those two pieces of information?

Add to this that he is a literal child who isn’t in the best place mentally because he has just had his entire world shattered by the revelation of his species. Of course he would make this decision. This isn’t a plot hole, it's an inevitability, that’s what makes it so tragic.

Everything moves forwards towards one event.

Pause. Could you please do me a favour? Raise your hand and move it as fast as you can in one direction, then try to stop it in place. Be sudden with the start and end, and take note of how it feels.

Take a moment.

Thank you.

You will notice that stopping moving feels weird. It’s shaky, and there is resistance to you stopping. At the risk of oversimplification, this is momentum in action.

Energy builds up and it needs somewhere to go, everything moves forwards, to where? If you stop the series, what happens to that energy?

In this case, it gets dispersed amongst the fans and then picked up later.

The Owl House was finished. The show ran its course. But then it got brought back to life, and that changes my reading of its purpose.

Perhaps I read this as the finale to the entire show. Life happens, deal with it. Consider this a warning.

Perhaps I read this as the finale to a season, setting up stakes for a final sprint.

Or perhaps I read this metatextually.

I think that The Owl House got revived in no small part because of the sheer drive behind King’s Tide. If I namedrop almost any other episode of this series, you will have to look up what happened, but King’s Tide is burned into your brain.

Maybe if you know the series off by heart you will do better, but for the majority of fans, Hollow Mind and King’s Tide are pretty much it.

King’s Tide built up energy, then gave it to you and ended in a way that was pointedly unsatisfying. It said “we aren’t done, and you can do something about it.” Yes, the characters are great, but The Owl House came back because it wasn’t finished.

This is a solid minute of shot after shot, each of which I could analyse individually for hours on end. But I linger here. It's a small thing, but it's the smile. The only time Raine smiles in the entire episode. They have saved Eda's life, and sacrificed their own, and they do not regret it one bit. But also, the light of the ritual cuts through their relationship, tearing them apart and as Eda tries to reach across that barrier, it burns her. She is forcefully separated from Raine, and she is powerless except to watch them fall.

Then there is this, the lives broken by machinations of people who don't care. The stories sacrificed for one man's game. The tears of tragedy.

There is a lot to meaning, and you can’t truly grasp authorial intent until you have seen everything they have laid out on the table. But you can draw conclusions based on what you have seen so far. That’s why theory crafting is so much fun.

So, going into the final season, here is what I want you to keep in mind:

The Owl House is about freedom. Freedom to be who you are without fear of bigotry and xenophobia. It is a fundamentally queer story more than just a story with queer people in it.

The Owl House is about knowledge and change. Luz’s journey isn’t over yet, and now she has to learn about the world she came from, the world she willingly left.

The Owl House is about hope. Things are bad, but they will get better. Everything can always get better. The point of no return is called the end, and we haven’t reached it yet.

Light, do not faulter.

Final Thoughts

There is so much to this episode that I want to talk about but I haven’t formulated thoughts on properly.

Like, Eda and Raine’s scenes with their more unsubtle visual storytelling techniques of memories and a big ol’ crack in their relationships as Raine passes out. I don’t have anything to say about that other than look at it, but it makes my brain buzz.

Similarly, everyone else with a coven sigil passes out, and yet Hunter, a child, is still standing despite it all. He’s obviously about to fall at any moment, but he is still gritting his teeth and facing down Belos. Once again, I this doesn’t relate to my point, but asdfghjkl.

Next week, I will not be covering Thanks To Them, and instead will be discussing the missing years. i.e. the fanart and fanfiction that kept the show alive until its re-emergence.

Stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

[shaunashpmn]

thankyou so much for the tag!

1. team psychological all the way. i wouldn’t be surprised if they make it more supernatural, but if so i’m hoping they go for something more like the mining theory (which s3 trailers are making seem more and more likely!) than the occult. i just think there’s so much more to explore and enjoy!

2. teen shauna and adult nat. i love adult shauna and teen nat as well, but i think both of them are such powerful characters and their stories have the most impact in those timelines! shauna’s baby storyline and nat’s recovery/death storyline??? insane. and so compelling

3. there’s SO many! my favourite is probably climbing up the walls for the bacchanal scene bc it’s such an insane choice lyrically (“you know we’re friends till we die • and either way you turn, i’ll be there • open up your skull, i’ll be there • climbing up the walls”) and such a cool way to link in a sort of ‘jackie’s perspective’ as the whole point is that they can now never truly get rid of her

4. i have to say jackieshauna, but in a “not friends, not lovers, but a secret other third thing” way!

5. s2e7. always. there’s not a scene in that episode i wouldn’t call one of my favourites.

6. natalie for sure. it seems obvious and i know it’s likely it won’t be her, but i truly do think it’s the best choice. it’s the only option that truly makes sense to me in the context of the adult timeline - it can’t be shauna, because she isn’t supposed to be winning ever!

7. the scene of them all dancing and partying in the adult timeline cutting into the scene of shauna beating up lottie. genuinely insane. it happens at such a key point in the show and the bittersweetness of the older characters finally reconnecting with their innocence as they lose it in the teen timeline?? heartbreaking. i love it.

8. i have a LOT…but my main one is that van is dying of cancer in episode 10. either that or someone else kills her to end her suffering in some way. i don’t want her to die but i also don’t want them to miraculously cure her! also a jane widdop/laura lee stunt double is credited for episode 10 and i just know someone is dying :( !!

9. i don’t think i’m like any one of them in particular but i’d say somewhere between shauna, nat and taissa :)

10. probably when i was at a party when the s3 trailer came out and i shut myself in the bathroom with my headphones so i could watch it bc i was NOT waiting😭😭

11. shauna wasn’t in the wrong for what she said to jackie and i’m sick of people acting like it was unjustified 😣😣 yes it wasn’t jackie’s fault that shauna felt that way!! but the point of that scene is that it’s not about jackie and shauna’s relationship, it’s about shauna. she’s a teenage girl who has spent her entire life in the shadows and is now in an impossibly horrifying situation that she feels like she can’t even feel scared about because she knows she should just be feeling guilty. she’s going to lash out, and jackie is the obviously the person she lashes out at! again i don’t think jackie deserved to have to take it at all, but i also don’t think shauna was unjustified in letting it out!

tags: @vanpalmerenthusiast @fearsomeandwrong @cassmouse @nattylvr @thechosenthree @stqrca

Starting a Yellowjackets tag!

I want to get my mind off of things so: If you want, answer any or all of the questions below and tag 10 people (or however many you want) who also might want to share! I would love to see what you guys have to say!

1. Are you team Rational or Supernatural?

2. Who is your favorite teen timeline character? Favorite adult timeline character?

3. What is your favorite needledrop?

4. What is your favorite ship?

5. What is your favorite episode?

6. Who do you want the Antler Queen to be?

7. What is your favorite scene in the entire series?

8. A theory or prediction you have about Season 3?

9. Which character do you relate to the most, and why?

10. What is the craziest thing you’ve done in the name of Yellowjackets?

Bonus:

11. What’s your most controversial Yellowjackets take?

—

Here’s mine!

1. I am mostly Team Rational because I love the way this show depicts trauma but I also love seeing the supernatural side of things through the survivors’ eyes if that makes sense.

2. Natalie in the teen timeline because I love her compassion and softness underneath the front she puts on. Lottie in the adult timeline because I love her internal battle with herself and how afraid she is of her own mind. Misty is a close second in the adult timeline!

3. “Cornflake Girl” playing while Nat sees the mossy tree for the first time, Callie seeing the Adam Martin driver’s license in the barbecue, and Shauna eating Jackie’s ear. It just goes so perfectly with everything that’s going on (especially the elevated piano while Nat and Travis are scaling the mountain and the lyrics while Shauna takes the bite!)

4. LottieNat is my favorite ship I can’t help it Nat and Lottie are my favorite characters so having them together is a dream (TaiVan, JackieShauna, and TravNat are up there, too).

5. 1x09 “Doomcoming” is just amazing and captures everything I love about Yellowjackets. I love when they let the girls go batshit crazy, hoping we get more Doomcoming vibes in S3.

6. I want the Antler Queen to be Natalie because that would show a true descent for her in the Wilderness from being the most morally grounded one to the leader of the group at their most unhinged and primal. But honestly I think that Shauna might be the AQ after all…

7. I think the Jackie-eating scene is the best in the entire show. The “Climbing Up the Walls” song choice, the bacchanal feast flashes as a way of coping with the horror of what they’re doing, seeing them go fully feral for the first time, it’s such a well crafted scene.

8. I know this probably won’t happen but I’m just going to throw it out there that Cabin Daughter is alive and she will be revealed to have been Javi’s “friend”!

9. I relate to Shauna the most because I also admittedly have a bit of an obsessive/intense personality and I, too, internalize my emotions to a very unhealthy degree sometimes. I also grew up being in love with my childhood best friend who is very, very much like Jackie (and now we have been dating for 7 years!)

10. Mine is a mix of going to a Yellowjackets panel and sitting like 5 feet from the showrunners, doing everything in my power to score early screening tickets to Heretic and Companion, and pretending I was sick so I could go home early from work the day that the S3 trailer came out.

11. The male characters on this show get too much hate🫢 I like Travis, Jeff, Kevyn, and Walter (even though his introduction and storyline are rushed and forced). I don’t like them more than the female characters, but I like them nevertheless and appreciate their contributions to the plot.

No pressure tags! (I’m tagging 15 bc I feel like it) @before-it-felt-like-a-sin @baked-potatoes-rule @jackiesnats @deerest-deer @whodoesnataliehave @stilllsage @fairytwles @glitterfairy-21225 @lesbianforlottie @tr4vnat @lauraleetaylor @cassioo @natsboygirlfriend @soapyjackets @pinkkkkat @natgf123 +literally anyone else who wants to!

[phoenixcatch7]

Reading loz/lu fics and it's just so interesting how wide the spectrum is of their personalities.

Sometimes it's got an in universe reason (different past (usually gender or species change), recent or ongoing traumatic events, a spectacularly bad first meeting), but sometimes (often) the characters are just... Weirdly angsty or peppy, there's no in between!

And I'm beginning to think less people have played more than one game than I thought XD.

Not that it's anyone's fault! One game is more than enough to be part of it all, and loz is exclusive to Nintendo consoles - and all the older stuff is frustratingly hard to get hold of. Heck, I'm still looking for wind waker, and that was really popular! And then you have to play it! They're not small games!!

But could people writing wild please ease off just a tiiiiiny bit so he can be a semi functional member of society pretty please XD? He's just as much a polite boy as any other member of the chain! He won't even run in shops! He can't attack npcs! He talks to every single person he's ever seen and remembers every single name. Yes, he's three quarters woodland creature with a hefty amount of trauma but he's also a fashionista who managed to avoid accidentally taking sides in a mayoral election and that's not easy!

[deadtiredghost]

it is gone 3am and i wrote and posted a fic instead of sleeping or doing work again :]

to be fair i have been planning on writing this for a while now... and 3am bursts are the best bursts

(will probably re-write later)

IF YOU READ IT PLZ CHECK THE FUCKING TAGS!

I always put warnings in the author's note.

Keep yourself safe. Mature themes /srs

[bluebellhairpin]

I'm getting to the end of my line over here.

[officialmrblobby]

every year since 2020 I’ve seen posts chastising people for watching eurovision when there is no ongoing call to boycott and the Palestinian campaign to boycott eurovision 2019 was because israel hosted. boycotts have to be organised and have mass participation to be effective.

[brittlebutch]

every time one of the managers makes me go out and work on the registers i think of that scene from Please Stand By where Wendy is talking through her routine & does the “make it sound different each time” when she says her greeting for work and i think of this specifically bc i can eventually start to hear myself say the exact same words with the exact same unvarying monotone inflection & then i do not bother to change anything about what I’m doing bc i simply do not care enough to expend effort into trying to mask. i think i had a point when i started this point but i’ve lost it. anyway stop putting me on registers

[coulsonlives]

.

[dilfhubs]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[viro-lil-goat]

I really hope this reaches more people, I'm only reposting this information from Instagram, the least that I can do. (Update: I changed their upbringing as it appears to have been listed wrong) Wiki page

When I just saw this information I couldn't stop crying thinking about it, and now my heart aches. They were the same age as me, I know for a fact like any other teen they dreamt of their future, who they would want to become, what to achieve, create, wondering if they meet those in the future they can call friends, wondeting if it'll get better when they grow up, maybe wished to leave that terrible place or maybe wanted to stay. How could anyone let this happen, why were they discharged from hospital so easily? And the school, we all know why. I hate to think about how, even with all the progress made, these things still happen.

"murdered schoolgirl Brianna Ghey on February 16, 2023. Candlelit vigils are being held across the UK this week for Brianna Ghey, 16, who was stabbed at Linear Park in Culcheth, Cheshire last Saturday. Brianna was a transgender girl and police are now investigating her killing as a hate crime. A boy and girl, both 15, have been charged with her murder"

An article that explains trans hate crime murders as on 2023

I hate everyone who have ever committed such vile hate crimes, I wish them in prison and hell. But i would never go down to their level. But I also blame the government, the school, and even those bigoted online accounts that teach their followers hate. In this case LibsOfTikTok, who targeted the teacher of this school, who supports lgbtq+, so they had to leave their position. It must have been the push for this to happen. I think their tiktok account has been thankfully deleten. But i have no idea about Twitter or any other. Please check and mass report them if it still exists. (Link to Instagram reel that this information is from)

ADDITION, PLEASE MASS REPORT THESE ACCOUNTS

[nosyp]

Twst Second Years reacting to someone else calling you 'honey' or 'sweetheart'

First years | Third years

A/N = WOOOHOOOO I'm actually continuing it, pls like share comment n subscribe y'all!1!!11!

Riddle Rosehearts

He stops mid-motion, his eyes narrowing sharply at the person.

“Excuse me? I believe you’ve forgotten your manners.” he says as he crosses his arms, stepping in front of you like a shield.

His voice is firm but icy, “They’re not yours to address so casually.”

He’ll fume about it later, pacing and ranting to himself about the audacity. Like "THEY did not deserve to call you by THAT nickname, only I can,"

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie immediately tenses when the sound is processed, body unmoving, but hides it behind a grin.

“Honey? That’s cute, but I think you’ve got the wrong person.” he tells the other person.

Casually drapes his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

Might ‘accidentally’ use his connections to make sure that person doesn’t get too comfortable around you.

Azul Ashengrotto

His smile falters for a fraction of a second before he regains his composure.

“Honey? Sweetheart? My, how bold of you to use such familiar terms.”

Steps in with a charming but slightly threatening demeanor.

“You must be unaware that (Y/N) is under my care. Do let me know if I need to clarify further.”

Quietly seethes, thinking about ways to ensure the offender never oversteps again.

Jade Leech

He smiles at the offender, giving a polite and eerie smile, kind of giving the signal to run too.

“Oh? How endearing. Though, I do believe that’s our thing. Right (Y/N)?”

Steps closer to you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Keeps his calm demeanor, but there’s a promise of subtle revenge in his tone.

Floyd Leech

Immediately frowns, leaning in with an uncomfortably close stare.

“Eh? Honey? Sweetheart? That’s MY nickname for Shrimpy!”

Wraps you up in a possessive hug, grumbling about how annoying the offender is.

Might or might not... escalate to something worse... maybe yelling or maybe chasing the person off if his mood sours.

HEY! At least it's safe to say that guy's probably not gonna ever try anything with you ever again. :)

Kalim Al-Asim

Looks surprised at first, but quickly recovers with a cheerful laugh.

“Oh, (Y/N)’s the sweetest, aren’t they? I’m lucky to have them!”

He then takes your hand or links arms with you to show you’re his.

Feels a little twinge of jealousy but lets it slide because he’s confident in your bond.

Jamil Viper

Freezes for a split second before letting out a low chuckle.

“They must’ve mistaken you for someone else.” he says in disbelief, after all why would someone else call you that?

Later, he'll position himself between you and the offender.

Makes a mental note to remember the person’s face in case they try again.

If they do try again, say bye bye.

Silver

His initial reaction is just to blink in surprise, but then he manages to remains calm.

“Honey? I’m sure they didn’t mean any harm. Maybe it was just an honest mistake.”

Gently shifts closer to you, his protective instincts kicking in.

Though polite, he gives the offender a piercing look, silently warning them to back off.

Later, he might overthink the situation and wonder if he should’ve been more assertive.

A/N = Ngl i feel like some were ooc.... if some are please do tell i'll rewrite. FEEDBACK is appreciated btw!!!

[ubeb0nes]

HCs of Sevika in Love ఌ

Congrats champ, you bagged a baddie!

**Reader is fem!

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◈ ⁘ ⁘ ⁘ ⁘ ◈

It's not that Sevika has crazy high standards. Her wants in a partner are actually very straightforward; it's just that most people lack the base integrity and self-accountability to even catch her attention in the first place

I really don't think she'd ever fall for anyone from Piltover, there's just too many generations of trauma accompanied by a life lived under their foot for her to get past. She loves Zaun too much to ever love anything to do with Piltover

That said, she's attracted to the ideals she associates with the Undercity; perseverance, strength (doesn't have to mean physical), adaptability and loyalty. If you have her love, you most certainly earned it bae

For her, it's probably an "oh shit"/"oh no" type of singular moment, when she realizes she's fallen in love

Either you got hurt or in some position where her true feelings were forced out of her, OR it's during an achingly soft moment where it's clear how loyal/devoted you are to her, and only her.

Absolutely spends months denying herself. She will try to distance, reasoning that you're both better off without the notion of love walling you in.

Zaun is no place for that, she thinks. She recalls Felicia and her husband, dying together on that bridge while a twenty-something year-old Sevika, at the time, watched them fall.

The pain to know you couldn't save your loved one in your final moments (even worse to leave two young children behind). She couldn't imagine it. Didn't want to. Sevika knew that her road would end at a violent last stop, and she didn't want you anywhere near that. She thinks about having met you in a different place.

…But she can't fully hide how she feels about you, not ever. She may oftentimes be rough and ruthless, but even at her worst moment Sevika isn't a cold individual. She's too passionate about you, cares too deeply for where you are and how you are

So when you show up at her apartment to yell at her for being so cruel, for shutting you out of her heart instead of being a grown-ass woman and telling you what the fuck you did wrong, she lets you.

She lets you yell until you've tired yourself out, and then she pulls you into that embrace you missed so much. You hit her shoulder or her chest, weakly, because you love her like crazy and never wanna actually hurt her, and tell her to fuck off.

"I didn't wanna push you away, dumbass," she'll say to you, softly, as she presses a kiss to your ear, "You think I don't want you with me all the time? To tell you I love you and shit without it coming back to bite us in the ass? Of course I do. Of course I do. I just… I don't know how. But I'm gonna fuckin' learn, doll. I promise."

"You… you love me? Really?" "Doll, I don't even let Silco talk to me like that." "You asshole-!"

You're mad, but not really. How can you be? You two will make this work, she already gave you her word.

It's more likely for you to move in with her than vice versa. She lets you go ham on adding your personality to her living space, she doesn't have any strong preferences besides cleanliness

Always says I love you before she goes to work. Just in case. If you mess with her and don't say it back, she will get up in arms about it within two seconds of silence

"I could die, you know." "Babe, I'm just joking!" "Do you see me laughing??"

Obviously, lets her drama queen side show more. She's just all-around looser once she confesses.

She makes sure you know how different you are from others, how special you are. Even her posture is different the moment you're within arm's reach

Body language and physicality are Sevika's main fluency. When in love, you notice the way she angles her body protectively around yours in public, or how she always urges you to link your arm with hers when you walk.

You notice that she almost looks… smaller at home. You realize this is on purpose. She makes herself less intimidating when it's just you, lowering herself to your level and opening her posture to you

At home, she likes kneeling by your side when you're sitting on the couch, checking you over or pressing slow kisses to your hands.

Devoted, devoted, devoted. She never wants you to forget.

Every time you call her name, she always stops what she's doing to give you her attention.

"Sevi?" "Yes, baby?" Every time. It's grounding for you both, in a way

Her henchmen become your henchmen. They know better than to say no to your requests for their help. (Ran is down for antics with you regardless!!)

People all over the Undercity start to recognize you as "Sevika's woman". Not her "girl", you garner too much respect for that

You are the only person Sevika answers to besides Silco. Her close circle teases her that you turn her into a little lovestruck puppy

It's really only them who are even capable of teasing her about this, because her changes in behavior are so minute but so important

She puts out her cigarillos when you sit down with her. She always shifts you over to her left side (the side most capable of protecting you). Her eyes start scanning the room more frequently than before you'd arrived.

She figures out over time that she was wrong. When she holds you against her while you sleep, and you grab her hand half-consciously to press kisses to her wrist, she knows you don't make her weak

When you whisper that you love her against her neck while you sway in the kitchen, moving to whatever music vibrates from the depths of her beloved city, she knows you don't make her weak

When you pull her back together without fail, remind her that she is more than just a grunt in a revolution, a soldier that can be replaced, she knows you don't make her weak

There isn't anything she wouldn't do to get back to you. She has to live long enough to know what a good life in a liberated Zaun looks like with you

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

A/N: A new smutty one-shot. I tried. I don't think it's good. But let me know what you think.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Avenger female reader

Warning: smut

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 4200+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - ANNUAL GALA

Tony Stark had invited Charles Xavier and his X-men to an annual gala he held in New York. There were many reasons for that. The Avengers and X-men worked together during difficult missions and unexpected alien threats. Also, he wanted to prove to regular citizens and high-profile politicians that mutants were not the enemy. This was the perfect opportunity for both groups to strengthen their bonds and work relationships. 

That’s how Logan had found himself, in a fancy all-black tux, standing at the bar with a drink in his hand. His glare could kill anyone who rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t fond of these gatherings, and yet here he was. His eyes were searching for any threat, ready to fight anyone who would seem too suspicious to him.

“You didn’t have to come here, you know,” Hank chuckled when he approached Logan at the bar. “Nobody forced you to come here.”

Logan rolled his eyes and sipped on his whisky. “I know how important these things are,” he growled. “Charles wanted me to be here, so I’m here.” 

“Uh-huh,” Hank rolled his eyes. He ordered a drink. When the bartender had given him the drink with shaking hands, he had to chuckle. Some people were spooked by his blue fur and beasty look. “Isn’t it because you are waiting for a certain someone?” 

Logan sighed, defeated. Hank knew damn well that his friend had built some connection with a certain female Avenger. There was no denying he was waiting for her. “You really wanna go there, furball?” He tried to avoid the question. 

“Oh, come on, Logan. Everyone can see how you are smitten with that woman,” he chuckled. “It’s kinda nice.”

“I am not smitten,” he denied. Fuck, but even Charles constantly made comments and teased him about it. “By the way, shut your mouth, McCoy. I don’t want to hear shit from you. You’ve been eyeing that reporter from News 1.” 

That made Hank roar with laughter. He sipped his drink and turned to the crowd, watching people mingle around, talk and drink. “I’m not denying that. She’s pretty, we like to talk about science. You, on the other hand, keep denying everything. But we are not blind.”

Logan wanted to throw the drink at Hank. He would, if they’d be back in the mansion. He opened his mouth to snap back at him. But the energy shifted to the grand stairs. Logan’s eyes travelled there, wanting to know what the fuss was about.

Yelena Belova and Y/N Y/L/N walked down the stairs with linked arms. Both looked beautiful in their evening gowns and perfect hair. Yelena had a green satin dress. Y/N chose a sparkling black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, with a slit on her left thigh. 

Oh, if he could, Logan would drool like a dog. It was one thing when she wore that damn tight suit during missions, but this made him hard instantly. Fuck. Maybe this was the day he would have a heart attack. And she’d be the cause of it.

His blood started to boil when many men gave her attention. Once the women left the stairs, they were surrounded by testosterone. Yelena was a pretty lady, too. He had to admit that. Y/N was something different. She felt like a dream, a secret naughty fantasy that he wanted to come to life. 

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a fly,” Hank said. 

Logan drank the rest of the whisky in one go, eyes never leaving Y/N’s figure on the main floor. Hell, even her teammates danced around her. Where did this jealousy come from? 

He thought about the day they met. It was an accidental mission, where the Avengers were also present. While Charles and Captain Amerika talked after the finished mission, Logan’s eyes were focused on the woman who caught his attention. 

Their first interaction was amusing. Y/N tried to save his ass when a group of soldiers surrounded him. Logan was on the ground, guns pointed at every piece of his body when she came out of nowhere, shooting down the soldiers, snapping their necks with bare hands. Her kicks were strong, her punches were deadly. 

Once the threat was eliminated, she turned and looked down at Logan. “Are you done napping?” she asked him with a grin. 

He huffed. “I had it under control,” he huffed. He got up on his legs, the adamantium claws had already retracted back to his skin. Y/N watched it happen like a hawk but didn’t comment on it. 

“Of course. You almost got killed by ten men. Yeah, you had it under control.” 

“I can’t die, princess,” he squinted at her. “It wouldn’t be the first time a firing squad would try to kill me. In the end, it would always just tickle.”

Y/N tilted her head. A smile played on her lips. “Well, if you are done bragging, let’s move. There is still more to come and I would like to be in bed with a book in my hand by ten.” 

That was just their first interaction. And with that, something bloomed between them. Friendship? Or was it something more? Every mission became exciting. He couldn’t keep the dumb smile on his face once he saw her in the field.

Logan ordered another whisky. A grin spread on his lips when he thought back to their first meeting. He learnt her name later. First, it was just her last name. Rogers barked orders when he said it. Her first name came at a different time when they all shared the same coms for better communication. 

“She’s coming here,” Hank warned him, which brought Logan back to reality. 

With every step, he could notice more details about her. The material of the dress, how deep her cleavage was, how her breasts popped out, the red lips, the earrings, the fact that she was like a fucking angel. All she needed was wings. And, she was coming to him alone. Fucking finally. 

“Wolverine,” she purred his name. “I can’t believe you are here. Who put a gun to your head and forced you to attend this magical evening?” There was a teasing smile on her lips. 

Don’t look at her tits, he thought. Don’t look at the tits that want to spill out of that dress. Fuck!

“I heard there was an open bar,” he said. “So I decided to come and drink Stark’s liquor.” 

She licked her lips, suppressing her chuckle. “No other reason?” I raised a brow. “See your friends, swoon ladies or play pool with the boys?”

See me?

He kicked in the rest of the drink and put the glass on the bar. His eyes noticed the crowd gathering in the middle of the hall. A slow music started to play, inviting everyone to dance. Logan’s hand reached forward. It was now or never. “Or I came here to dance with ya, princess.” 

One second and her hand slipped into his. “Oh, so you dance, you say? Lead the way.” 

Logan proudly walked her into the crowd of dancing people. One hand rested on her lower back, other held her right hand. He knew what he was doing. After all, this was the first dance of his life. Y/N was impressed by that. They started to dance to the string music. 

He sniffed her sweet perfume, the shampoo she used. That woman would be the death of him, Logan was sure of it. They kept dancing, not talking. His eyes were on her, locked in a gaze. He had been close to her before but not like this. She was like a magnet, pulling him closer to her. Her lips inviting, her touch soft. 

The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to spill out what was going through his mind. “You look beautiful tonight,” he admitted. “Fuck, you look beautiful every time I see ya.”

She chuckled. “Even in my suit during a fight?” she raised a brow. 

“Hell yes,” he nodded eagerly. “Princess, when you walk to the field in that suit, fighting fearlessly, I have trouble focusing. Once you did a trick with your thighs, choking an enemy with them, I almost lost it there.” 

Y/N’s hand left his. She brushed it up his arm and rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, so that’s the effect I have on you, eh?” she teased the Canadian. “Care to say more?”

Logan’s hand joined the other on her lower back. He pressed her closer to his body. The height difference was evident between them. Even with her high heels, she was shorter than him. “Fishing for compliments?” 

“From you? Yes,” she smiled. 

He moved closer to her, leaning. In his mind, he was ready to press his lips against her. He needed to kiss her like he needed to breathe. This was his chance to taste her.

A third hand landed on Y/N’s shoulder. “Y/N, Logan,” they heard someone say their names. The moment was ruined. He wasn’t able to kiss her like he wanted. On the other hand, he wanted to slash anyone who interrupted them.

With a growl, he pushed away, eyes finding Captain Rogers, accompanied by Hank. “What?” he asked them grumpily. He didn’t care it was rude. They ruined something special. 

“We need you in the conference room,” said Steve. “We have a situation.” 

Y/N sighed, stepping away from Logan’s hold. “What’s going on?” she switched to a work mode. She gave Hank a polite smile to acknowledge his presence. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted us about Trash industries,” said Steve. “Come, we’ll show you.” 

“Charles?” Logan’s eyes shifted to Hank. 

“Already with Stark,” he said. 

All four of them walked together from the grand hall. Yelena and Sam joined them on the stairs. The blonde woman was yapping about being taken away from a cute woman and a fine drink. 

“I just fucking got here. Already some shit is happening,” she kept cursing under her nose.

Logan kept close to Y/N. He missed her body being so close to his. He hoped they'd be able to continue. The conversation was intriguing. He remained by her side while walking through the hallway and to the upper levels of the compound. 

Her fingers brushed against his hand. It wasn’t an accident. No. Her fingers purposefully stroked the top of his hand. Instantly, his fingers moved. His pinkie hooked around hers for a second. It was a mutual sign. 

The group entered the conference room, meeting the rest of the Avengers and Charles. One by one they took a seat except Logan. He stayed on his feet, a step away from Y/N’s seat. A hologram appeared in the middle of the table. 

“We got a new location on Trask Industries, but this time, these fuckers had decided to work with some Hydra scums,” Tony started to talk, showing footage they managed to get from satellites. “Or so it appears. we are not quite sure.” 

“The public wouldn’t like that,” Charles commented. “They try to present themselves as a serious robotic corporation. Why would they jeopardise their public status if they start working with a public enemy?”

“That is trying to hunt down mutants and annihilate them,” Y/N commented. “Don’t want to imagine what’s going on behind closed doors. It can’t be nice.”

“Is it really Hydra?” Natasha asked. 

“It appears,” Steve chimed in. “Or something adjacent.” 

“So what? We’re just gonna sit here and wait for more details?” Logan scoffed. “The longer we wait, the more work they get done. I say to strike and kill them all.” 

Y/N licked her lower lip and grinned under her nose.

“We need a strategy, Logan,” said Charles.

“Not everyone can get sliced and heal with a snap of fingers,” Tony added sarcastically. “Chill, wolvie. Besides, we’ve sent Vision to have a look at the place. He’s a droid, a powerful one made out of vibranium.” 

Y/N turned her head to Tony. “That doesn’t mean he’s indestructible in this world,” she frowned. “New weapons are being developed every day to destroy mutants, to stop the Avengers. I hope Wanda went with him. They are stronger together.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course, she’s with him. Do you think I’d be able to stop her? I’m not crazy.” 

“Trask Industries are still working on the damn sentinel program,” Hank stepped into the conversation. “With Hydra’s help, who knows what they’ll be able to create together. The thought alone is scary.” 

Tony ended the hologram. Steve took the word. “I know we are supposed to be here at the gala, but I suggest a good night's sleep and be ready. If you’d like, we have spare rooms in here for you. You can stay here for the night if we need to leave.” 

When Steve said that, Y/N gently turned her head to the side, wondering what Logan would say to that. 

“I’ll gladly accept the offer,” Hank smiled. “At least I’d get to talk to Bruce for a little while and have a look at his labs. I’ll also alert the others at school.” 

“Howlett?” Tony raised a brow. 

Logan’s eyes moved from Y/N’s exposed shoulders to Hank and then to Tony. “Sure, why not? At least I don’t have to drive from place to place.” 

“I guess we are staying,” Charles smiled. “Thank you for your accommodation.” 

The meeting ended. Natasha and Yelena went back to the gala. Y/N talked to Hank for a few more minutes while he was waiting for Bruce. Steve and Tony took Charles back to the grand hall. Logan waited outside the conference room. Because no one was present, he took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it up. Three puffs later Y/N stepped out of the conference room with Hank. 

“Already smoking?” Hank sighed. 

“So what? Got a problem with that, bub?” 

“Always the charmer,” Hank shook his head. “Nice evening, Y/N. I’ll see you later,” he said once he saw Banner approaching the group. 

The moment Logan and Y/N were alone, they faced one another. “Are you heading back to the gala?” Logan asked. 

She hummed, thinking about it. “I’m not feeling like going back there. Honestly, those fancy parties are not my cup of tea. Wanna grab a drink in our lounge room? Stark has the fanciest shit there. You’re gonna love it.” 

Logan smiled at her. “Lead the way, princess.”

. . .

The lights were dimmed in the lounge room. Logan was nursing an expensive drink Y/N poured him. He made faces, eyed the liquid, humming and nodding. “This is some good shit,” said after a while. “Wealthy people can afford stuff like this. Also, Charles prohibited any alcohol at school.” 

Y/N chuckled, sitting in an armchair with her drink. “It makes sense. It’s a school. Of course, he doesn’t want any alcohol there. Does he let you smoke?” 

He huffed. “That he ain’t gonna do shit about it. No matter how much he threatens to turn me into a six-year-old girl.” 

“Aw, that’s adorable. I’d like to see that,” she put a wide smile on her face as she sipped her drink. “Maybe I’d brush your hair, put pink ribbons in it.”

Logan kicked the drink in and stood up from the couch. His eyes noticed a few photos around the place - from parties and group shots to professional photos of the team. They were like a family. What mostly caught his attention was Y/N. She was an Avenger, part of a superhero team. He huffed. Fuck, she was a damn Avenger. 

“What?” she questioned. A second later, she was by his side, eyes on the same photo of the team. “That was after Ultron almost annihilated the whole world. We celebrated our survival. Stark puked into his helmet,” she laughed. 

“Disgusting,” he frowned. “I must say, you look like one happy family,” he commented. 

Y/N hummed. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “I love them all to death.”

“But?” he raised a brow. 

She shrugged. “Will I sound ungrateful if I say I hate being in the spotlight?” she made a face. “I can’t do photoshoots, the damn galas and shit forever. I hate attention. I’d rather be like you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “Teaching mutant kids, living life out of the spotlight. Even though it’s not easy, in my eyes, it’s simpler. Not have to deal with this shitshow.” 

Logan’s fingers found her hair. He brushed them away from her face. His mouth opened, ready to say something - anything - but instead, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her closer to his body and crashed his lips against her. It was like an invincible string, pulling them together. He couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t slow, gentle. Quite the opposite. Logan’s tongue explored her mouth, tasting every corner he could reach. It was hungry, possessive. One hand held her tightly around her waist while the other slipped from her neck, down her back until it reached her ass, taking as much of her cheek into his palm. 

Both arms wrapped around his neck. A moan escaped her lips when the kisses moved to her jaw and down to her exposed neck. 

“I need to have you,” Logan growled between the kisses. “Fuck, pretty baby.” 

“My room,” she sighed. “We can’t give Stark or Rogers a heart attack if we do it here. Although, it would be funny.” 

Logan pushed away, staring into her eyes. He went back for her lips, only to bite her lower lip, pulling at it. “Lead the way, princess,” he growled. “And hurry, or I will take you here, where anyone can see us.”

Y/N grabbed him by the hand, taking him away from the lounge room. Logan moved her to his side and kept a hand on her smaller back. He needed to feel her, to be sure she was real and not a damn dream.

It took them a good three minutes to get to her room on the upper levels. The moment she closed the door, her hands were on Logan’s jacket, taking it off, letting it fall on the floor. Both of them stepped on it, not caring. His lips smashed against hers, all tongue and teeth. Grunts and moans echoed around them as they moved closer to the bed. 

“I wanna rip this dress off,” he said, hands grabbing both of her covered breasts into his palms, squeezing them. 

Y/N undid his tie. “No,” she chuckled, unbuttoning his white shirt. “Too fucking expensive. Here,” her fingers quickly found the zipper on her left side. She pulled it down and the dress loosened. That was Logan’s sign to pull down on it. 

“Fuck, princess,” his eyes rolled when she stood there in nothing but a black lacy thong. Her breasts were on full display, nipples stiff, just for his eyes. “Fucking perfect.” 

Before he could latch onto her hardened nipples, she forced the white button-up down off his body, hand grabbing onto his muscles, fingers brushing over some of the hair on his chest. She stood on her tiptoes to find his lips in another hungry kiss. 

His tongue dove into her mouth, caressing hers in the process. He felt her hands moving down to his belt, unfastening it. “Impatient?” his voice hoarse.

She pushed him onto her bed. He fell with a loud thud. The adamantium bones almost broke it in the process. “Shit, sorry,” she gasped, forgetting about his weight. But instantly, she climbed on top of him. Y/N pressed her breasts onto his chest as she needed to kiss him again and again. 

Logan switched it up, rolling them so she was under his body. “Now, let me ravish you before I give you my cock,” he said, lips already trailing kissed down her chest, over her breasts. His mouth took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, biting it. Her other nipple was teased by his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck, Logan,” she whimpered. 

His mouth then travelled south. His tongue left a wet trail down her stomach to the hem of her thong. He kneeled on the edge of the bed, taking her leg up in the air, kissing it from the thigh up to her ankle. “I should leave these heels on, darlin’. So fucking sexy. Fuck, and I will.” 

Y/N huffed. “Logan, please, I want your mouth on me.” 

“Ah, already begging. I love it,” he grinned. He put her leg on his shoulder. His fingers brushed down down her leg to her clothed pussy. With two fingers he brushed her over her hidden folds and clit. She practically purred. “Pretty sound.” 

“Come on, Logan, do something.” Y/N was becoming frustrated. He kept teasing her, rubbing circles over her clit. “Don’t be a fucking tease. Not now.” 

A dark laughter escaped his throat. “Patience, darlin’.” He moved the thong to the side, exposing her pussy to the cold air. He saw her clench around nothing. “What a pretty pussy, princess. So wet and ready for me.” And he buried two fingers inside her heat. 

Y/N moaned once his two thick fingers penetrated her. “Shit. Ah.” 

He pulled them out and put them straight into his mouth, tasting her. “Delicious,” hummed. “I’m gonna feast on you. Not now. Now, I need to feel you around my cock, princess.” 

Logan grabbed her thong and pulled it off her legs, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He made sure to leave those heels on. “Fucking gorgeous.” He stood up to get rid of his pants. 

The moment he unzipped them, she knew he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Shit, Logan, commando?” she raised a brow. His length was already hard, ready for attention. The tip of his cock was angry red, already leaking precum. 

She was ready to reach for him, take his cock into her mouth and guide it into her mouth. Logan was faster. He pushed her back on the bed, shaking his head. “No, no, darlin’. I’m gonna fuck you now. And next time, I will let you have a taste of me.” 

“Next time?” she smiled. 

Logan leaned closer, his head above hers. “You think this a one-time thing? Oh, pretty girl. No, no.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Good,” she gave him a bright smile. 

He pumped his length a few times before he positioned his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inside until her hungry pussy took him all in. He cursed, groaned when her walls clenched around him. Once he was buried to the hilt, Y/N sank her nails into his chest, leaving red trails down to his belly button. They immediately disappeared, healed.

“Feel so good, princess. So tight,” he moaned as he started to move. At first slow, enjoying every stroke, watching her face like a hawk. He loved how her eyes rolled, how she gasped for air with each thrust or how she squeezed her breasts. She was fucking perfect. 

His thrusts fastened. He watched her breasts bounce as she kept fucking her. His grunts were louder, more vocal. Logan’s right hand found her neck. He wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing it. And that move made her clench hard around his cock. “Shit, Y/N,” he called her name. “Keep doing that and I will fucking cum inside you.”

Logan’s other hand sneaked between their bodies and found her clit. He started to rub it slowly, changing the movements. 

“P-please,” she gasped. “I need to cum, Logan.”

He smiled. “Yeah, pretty girl? Gonna cum around my cock?”

Y/N nodded, moaning and shaking under him. “Please, please,” she begged. 

“Come on, princess. Cum around my cock. Squeeze me with your sweet pussy,” he demanded. “Wanna feel you when you cum. Shit… Ah… Fuck…”

A few more flickers of his finger was what she needed to reach her peak. Her mouth formed a perfect O, her voice suddenly gone when the wave of pleasure hit her body like a train. Her back arched as he helped her through her orgasm. 

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he grunted. “Milk me dry.” 

A few more thrusts and he spilt inside her. His hot cum painted her walls. He growled like an animal, trying to prolong his climax with every movement. His body shook and then he stopped, panting. 

His eyes found hers. There was a post-orgasmic haze in them. A smile played on her lips. She was perfect, beautiful. Logan quickly leaned down and stole a kiss from her.

“Damn, princess,” he chuckled. “Such a good girl.” 

Those words made her clench around his length again. He grinned. “You like it when I call ya a good girl? Good to know.” Slowly, he pulled her semi-hard cock out of her and rolled next to her, catching his breath. 

Y/N rolled to him, resting her leg over his body. Her fingers drew patterns on his chest, moving through the hair delicately. “This was fun,” she smiled. “It’s been a while since I had a good orgasm.” 

He raised a brow. “Next time, I’ll make you cum on my fingers,” he grabbed her hand and pressed his lips on her fingers. “Then on my tongue and around my cock,” he hummed. “I will fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

She grinned. “Is that a promise?” 

“Fuck yeah, princess.” 

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you��ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Soulmate AU I 2k I Rated Mature I idiot4idiot

The thing about linking with your soulmate, you never knew when it was going to happen. There were horror stories about it happening during weddings to someone else or while performing heart surgery or landing a plane, but linking was so rare, stories like that seemed more like fairy tales than cautionary ones.

If anyone had asked Eddie what he thought about it, he would've said the odds of there being some guy out there destined to be his mate, let alone that he'd have to worry about linking during some critical moment, were astronomically low.

He'd be wrong.

Because his ears are ringing, his vision has tunnelled, and there's an empty vacuum where his usual chaotic thoughts should be. All signs pointing toward-

Hello?

Jesus H. Christ, not now! Not right now, this cannot be happening now. Quick! Think of something else! Uhhh… Golems! Ice golems! Or maybe frost giants. Yeah! Not having hate sex with your arch nemesis. Shit! Stop thinking about it! Frost giants, frost giants, frost giants!

Hate sex? He hears echo around his noggin next. Arch nemesis?

Fuuuuuck. No, darlin’, don't even worry about that stray thought! Nothing to see here. I'm, uh, baking! Yeah. Brownies. For a charity bake sale

A long pause, empty space between them, before he says, I don't believe you. I think you are having sex

Sex?! He screeches. How dare you! I would never!

You would. Go balls deep into a guy you don't even like, sounds like to me. Class act.

Oh god, there’s gotta be a way to salvage this.

No, let me explain, please!

Knock yourself out

Right. So, this guy, I know him from school, right? And he was always kind of a jerk. The space between them pings with a sort of stung feeling but Eddie doesn't understand how any of this works yet so he ignores it. But we end up having a few mutual friends, and this one really weird event happens that forces us to, like, team up, I guess. After all that I'm spending more time around the guy and he's not so bad. Invited me over to smoke up with him, which was cool. I'm gonna be totally honest, I'm not sure how exactly we got here, the sex part, but it’s pretty hot and heavy, kinda aggressive, so… yeah. Hate sex I guess

Soulmate is quiet again. His feelings bleed through anyway, at least Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's getting. It feels like embarrassment and disappointment.

You okay? Did I scare you off?

You don't like the guy at all? You said arch nemesis

Oh. Uh. Well… How did he explain to his future partner, if he hadn't already ruined it, that he likes him plenty, he's just been holding him at arms length, metaphorically, because he assumed the guy was straight? Up until roughly twenty minutes ago. He should probably start with honesty.

No, I like him okay. He's not as bad as I'd always thought. We give each other shit but I'm pretty sure it's just left over bullshit stereotypes from high school. I bully him about his music taste, he bullies me about my shitty van. That type of thing

…Right

He waits to hear back from his soulmate but he's not very talkative. That's okay, Eddie can talk enough for both of them.

So, what were you up to when we linked? Not driving I hope

He can hear the guy sighing over the link, which is worrying.

You'll never believe it, but I'm also having sex at the moment

Seriously? That's hilarious

Yeah. A hoot

Not having fun?

I was. But I recently found out the guy doesn't like me that much. So, yeah, real mood killer

Oh man. That sucks

Oh my god. Yeah, it really does. Kinda wish he'd get off of me so we can get the awkward part over with but he's distracted at the moment

Doing what?! Eddie yells, offended on his behalf.

“He’s busy not realizing he linked to the guy he was hate fucking.”

Huh?

“Eddie, open your fucking eyes.”

That's Steve talking.

He blinks his eyes open to see Steve looking up at him. He's not pleased.

Wait

“Yeah.”

Oh my god

“As impressive as it is that you managed to stay hard through that whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you-” He hisses as Eddie, rudely he realizes, pulls out without warning.

He scrambles to the end of the bed, bunching up the comforter around his junk. “I'm so sorry, fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't… I didn't…”

He can't fix this, he starts to slowly comprehend. He's made Steve think he hates him.

“Nah, it's cool. I get it.”

I don't hate you, I swear. You have to believe me

“Sure, Eddie.” He's yanking his briefs back on, angry and trying not to show it. “You just don't like me much.” Can't believe I did this again. So fucking stupid

Eddie's certain he's not meant to hear any of that but he responds anyway.

You're not stupid. Please let me explain

“You already did. And I am fucking stupid,” he snaps. “Here I thought we were flirting this whole time and you thought we were bullying each other. That's real fuckin’ stupid of me. I'd convinced myself you actually-” He snaps his teeth shut but Eddie can still hear the unfinished -liked me. “I really wish you would control your feelings, dude. You're broadcasting your horror straight into my head.”

“I don't know how to stop,” he quietly admits.

“Well if you'd ever shown up to health class you'd know how to control it.”

I never thought I would get a soulmate

Steve's surprise at that pings around his brain before he does what Eddie can't and shuts it down.

“I did. I've been thinking about it for years.”

And you ended up with me… And I ruined it before we even got started. I ruined it. Steve Harrington is my soulmate and I ruined it. What the fuck

“You don't have to say it like I'm some kind of prize.” He steps into his jeans and tugs them back up to his hips, not even bothering to do them up. Which is- “I guess it's nice that you think I'm hot. That's something. Maybe we'll be the first casual hookup soulmates.”

He has to fix this. Somehow. Think, god damnit! Wait! That's it! He just has to show Steve what he's thinking!

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“Too bad!” He snaps back.

Okay, as embarrassing as this is about to be, he has to tell the truth.

Eddie was in the 8th grade, Steve in 7th, when they first met. Or, when Eddie first noticed Steve anyway, they never really spoke to each other, their cliques already established by then. But Eddie can remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunch, Eddie was walking by with his bagged PB&J, when he heard it. Steve laughing. It was so joyful, Eddie didn't even know what he was laughing about but it made him smile anyway. Of course one of Steve's shitty jock friends caught him staring and called him a queer freak but that wasn't unusual.

“What the fuck, Eddie? Why do you remember that? And how are you so good at visualizing?”

He ignores the questions to move on to the next memory. Eddie's sophomore year they somehow ended up in the same Shop class. Again, they never spoke but he got to watch Steve work, tongue poking out while he concentrated, the proud look on his face when he whittled some hunk of wood into a recognisable shape.

“I forgot about that. It was a dolphin. I was dating Chelsea Hosteller, they were her favorite animal.”

“Lucky her.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, you're the one showing me this shit! What am I supposed to assume from any of this? You thought I was cute? So what? You clearly don't like who I am as a person, so what difference does it make?”

He's not going to have the patience for every single moment, and they're a lot of them, Eddie realizes that now. So he speed runs through them, making sure to send every bit of feeling through their link.

Steve in his Scoops outfit, luring Eddie to the mall but never making him brave enough to go in. The horror of not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead when he heard about the mall burning down. The joy of finding him at Family Video, somewhere he had reason to visit.

You never even talked to me there

Listening to every word to every story Henderson told him about Steve and his bravery. Pretending to be annoyed so no one noticed he was eating it up. Getting to know the real Steve over Spring Break, the giddiness he couldn't quite tamp down, even as he was scared shitless. The pain of knowing Steve was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, even though it was the obvious narrative to Steve's fairytale life. Of course he gets the girl at the end.

What? Is that why you-

The way he stuck around afterward, even though their dynamic was more antagonistic than friendly, and the way Eddie thrived off of every snarky comment. How it felt like banter even though Eddie knew, by all logic and reason, Steve was merely tolerating his presence. They would always be antithetical to each other, circling but never meeting.

Eddie, no

Steve growling ‘Do you ever shut up!’ before pouncing on him downstairs. The heavy pounding of his heart as he wrestled Steve up the stairs. The way his brain never did catch up to what was happening or why, until it was too late, and he was ruining both the greatest sex he'd ever had and also the chance to prove, though he's still completely unworthy, that he has already been primed and ready to fall for Steve for years. The shame of ruining it. The heartbreak of ruining it. The teeny, tiny spark of hope as Steve stares him down. He has to close his eyes to avoid it, lest he say something stupid and fuck it up again.

You…do like me?

Yeah, Stevie. I like you a whole lot. I just didn't think I was allowed to like you. I didn't realize you liked me too. I'm sorry I said all that shit earlier. I didn't want to tell the guy I'd just linked with that I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to sleep with this guy I'd had a crush on for years. That seemed rude

The bed dips and so does Eddie's stomach. Steve's enormous hands slide up his neck, into his hair, and gently cradle his face as he leans in to kiss Eddie square on the mouth.

Oh. Hi

Hi

This is nice

I think so too. How do you feel about finishing what we started but this time we both know that we like each other?

That sounds awesome. But are you sure? I really, really fucked up the first time

I thought you were perfect up until you called me your arch nemesis

I have been told that sometimes I'm a little dramatic

You know what, that's fair. I really should've taken that as a compliment, if anything

See? Now you get it

What I'm getting is another condom. Hold my ankle so I don't slide off the bed

You got it, baby

Unbelievable. Salvaged the wreckage of his own stupidity and managed to bag the hottest guy in town! Score one for the nerds!

“I heard that.”