#kinda feel a little self conscious posting it but hey I still really like how he came out!

[princyvish]

For the Whery DTIYS~

Sabo is just a creature of pure magical whimsy

(original DTIYS post here)

Obligatory @where-does-the-heart-lie so they can see this :)

[suzukiblu]

Please, cuddling, and TimKon?

. . . I am sorry but also I am NOT sorry for what I have done with this reply, but hey, why don't we all enjoy this one being the only prompt fill from this meme that got a read-more cut??

“Please,” Kon tries, trying not to look–he doesn’t know, weird and needy and like an embarrassment, or whatever. It feels like such a stupid thing to ask for. He knows Tim’s not really a hugger or a touchy-feely guy or whatever and that he likes having his own space and basically always hops out of bed right after sex to go write down all the shit his post-nut clarity made him think of, and the idea of, like, just staying still and actually cuddling or whatever is probably basically literal torture to him, assuming it’s ever even occurred to him at all, just . . . 

Just he’d kind of like to sometimes, maybe? Like–not regularly or whatever, he’s not trying to drive Tim nuts or cut into either his worktime or downtime here, just . . .

Just he’d like to do it sometimes, that’s all. 

Tim’s not the tactile type. Tim isn’t even the eye contact type, unless he’s lying to somebody or at work or just faking it for Robin-mode or whatever. Kon gets that. He’s been, like–careful about that. Not trying to take up too much space or ask for too much attention or mind when Tim doesn’t even look up at him when he– 

He’s been careful about it. 

But he is . . . well. The tactile type. Like . . . kind of, anyway. 

Like–it’s kinda unavoidable, honestly. 

“Oh,” Tim says, blinking at him in just enough bemusement to make him feel even more self-conscious about bringing this shit up to begin with, and Kon tries to keep his expression casual and noncommittal and–and just normal about this. Because he is totally normal about this. He is so normal about this. He is.

He’s also normal about the fact that when he asked Tim if he could talk to him about something, Tim didn’t even put down his tablet. Didn’t even put it to sleep, or actually even look up from it until . . . 

Kon’s normal about that. About all of this. 

(and he definitely never feels kind of weird or a little bit abandoned because Tim can’t EVER just bring his stupid laptop back to bed or at least work on whatever he’s thinking about IN the bedroom at the untouched desk he's got set up in there or even just, like . . . stick around and hang out on the couch with him, or anything like that. he definitely totally ENTIRELY doesn’t ever just feel like a casual fuckbuddy or an easy hookup or a gala-night accessory or just the most immediately convenient option and not actually–not actually any kind of a–not actually something that– 

he doesn’t. 

definitely.)

“Uh,” Kon says, and backpedals awkwardly, because clearly this conversation is not going the way he’d wanted it to and Tim just looks so surprised by it all, like–like it never even occurred to him or something, that maybe . . . that maybe Kon would want anything like that, or like he literally just hasn’t noticed how hard Kon’s been trying to be normal about it, or . . . 

It doesn’t feel very good, the idea he’s been trying so hard to respect Tim’s space and preferences and comfort levels and Tim hasn’t even noticed that he was doing anything at all. 

Especially because Tim usually notices just about everything. 

Maybe Tim’s just never thinking about it. Maybe he gets out of bed so quick because he’s spent the whole time in it thinking about other shit and just putting up with–just– 

“Kon,” Tim says, his voice going a little tight, and Kon just tries not to wince. He didn’t mention any of the complicated stuff he’s been trying not to feel, he just asked if Tim could–if Tim would– 

He didn’t even mention any of the complicated stuff, so it’s, like–not a great sign that Tim’s looking at him like that right now, like he’s said something really serious or upsetting or . . . 

He really shouldn’t have said anything, yeah. 

“Sorry,” he tries stiffly, glancing away and wrapping his hand around his own wrist and digging his fingers into the inside of it. It’s–tactile. Just . . . something tactile. “I know you don’t–sorry. Uh. Just forget it.” 

“Fuck,” Tim mutters for some reason, and Kon feels like such an idiot for saying anything at all, and a worse one for apparently doing it in a way that’s got Tim making that face at him. That face is Robin’s “my utility belt is empty, comms are fried, and the mission just went to shit” face. 

He really fucked this up. It was fine. Everything was fine, and now he’s wrecked it and Tim’s about to say it’s not even that serious, it’s not like it’s even–not like they’re even–and that Kon’s clearly gotten the wrong idea and they should just–just– 

“How long have you felt this way?” Tim asks very, very carefully, like the question’s something fragile, and Kon thinks from literally the first fucking time you left me alone in bed all night so you could go recalibrate some stupid useless specialty sensor that wasn’t even part of your primary gear, like, a WEEK into us sleeping together and says, “I dunno. It’s not–I told you. Forget it. It’s not a big deal.” 

He’s being weird about this. He’s being an asshole about this, actually, because being prepared for literally every single possible contingency ever is the Bats’ whole thing and he got into this knowing Tim wasn’t the touchy-feely type or all that expressive and emotive about–about his feelings, or whatever, and–and it’s not like he even–not like he– 

(he just wants a fucking HUG he didn't have to FUCK him for every now and then, or for Tim to at least exist in the same space as him for longer than the time it takes for the next email from Oracle to come in or next alert from Batman to go off or next self-assigned project to finish processing or–

but that’s not something Tim does, and Kon knew that going in, so–so it’s his own stupid fault if he feels SMALL sometimes, when . . . when there’s always something else, always another problem to solve or place to be or thing to think about, always . . . always something more important than just . . . staying, just for a little bit, and just BEING with–with him. just him. not the team, or either of their families, or . . .)

He knew all this going in, Kon reminds himself. He knew it. If he were this bad at being with literally anyone else, he’d just–he’d just– 

But something about it being Tim means he just . . . can’t. 

Tim’s jaw tightens, and he finally sets down his stupid tablet. 

Only now, though, Kon thinks bitterly, and digs his fingers a little deeper into the inside of his wrist. 

“Kon,” Tim says again, says too carefully again. Like something’s fragile, again. “I–” 

“I said forget it, for fuck’s sake!” Kon snaps too hotly, and maybe hates himself for both doing it and for the stricken look that doing it puts on Tim’s face, and also maybe cheats a bit by super-speeding straight out the balcony door into the night air and not taking his cell or his communicator with him. Or–definitely does, in fact. Definitely that’s cheating. He knows it is. 

He just really can’t stand to hear Tim tell him how he’s fucked up this time right now, though. He just–he tried so fucking hard not to fuck up this time. 

He really, really tried. 

He should’ve known it wouldn’t work, but . . . but he really did try.

[violetsteve]

If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin. 

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way. 

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils . 

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.  

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction. 

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.  

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars . 

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They’re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass. 

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson. 

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

[peachbottom]

Not Hungry

Authors Note: I actually kind of hate this but I spent some time on it so I might as well post it. I wrote this with a similar body type to mine in mind, though it can be pictured anyway you like it does hint at a midsize/chubby reader. Give me feedback if you feel like it. Much love xoxo

Summary: You are self conscious eating in front of people so you decide to wait until you get home to eat. But unfortunate weather has you stuck at Buckys apartment and he is determined to make sure you don’t go to sleep hungry.

Warnings: food, not eating, body image, insecurities, hints at mature themes, pet names, possibly disordered eating habits, barely edited, bad formatting (pls let me know if I missed any)

——————————————————————————

You and Bucky had been together for a little while now, about 6 months. You both agreed to take it slow due to your own situations.

You really did like Bucky, loved him even, but you still had your habits and behaviors that you used to mask your own anxieties.

For example, you don’t eat in front of people. Even Bucky, and not because you don’t trust him but because you get in your head.

You will eat food with him but never a full meal. Part of it is because you don’t want him to judge you for eating too much, too little, too fast, too slow, anything really. People have always had something to say about your body and appearance and you came up with this coping as a way to keep them from having more to judge.

It started in high school when girls would make comments that you eat too much or you always were hungry. That’s when you not only developed insecurities about your body but you’re eating as well. You would notice when you went out with friends they wouldn’t eat much and you didn’t want to be the one eating more than everyone else.

So whenever you were with Bucky he would always suggest getting food or having a snack. Who knew super soldiers that workout all the time eat so much. Your reaction to this was always say you’re not hungry, you ate before you came over, you didn’t feel good, you had a list of excuses. You never ate more than a couple bites or a small snack of anything. You would always wait to eat when you got home.

Thankfully your relationship was young and you were taking things slow, you had never spent more than a day together and never spent the night at each other’s places. That was until one night when it was quite stormy and dark.

…

You and Bucky were sitting in his apartment on his couch, you had your legs tucked under you and were snuggled up to his side, head on his chest, with his arm around you. You were very comfortable and very warm, your eyes started getting heavy and you felt truly at peace in his arms.

Bucky starts rubbing up and down your arm to get your attention, he turns his head away from the tv screen in front of you and looks down at your curled up form tucked into his side.

“Hey it’s getting kinda late, I would say maybe you would want to go home but I don’t like you going out in this weather. How would you feel about maybe staying the night?”

You reach out for your phone on the table in front of you to check the time. It’s 11pm and it’s storming out. Rain is coming down hard, wind whipping, and it’s freezing out, he has a point you don’t really want to go through the city in this weather at this time of night.

You think about what he said, about staying the night. It sounds so nice being able to fall asleep next to him, but you can’t help but think about the pain in your stomach. Your so hungry, and eating in front of him seems so embarrassing, especially to have to ask for food. You planned to just eat when you went home, when Buck had ordered food earlier he asked what you wanted you said you weren’t really hungry you had a late lunch. The truth was you were hungry and you forgot to eat before you came over, you figured it would be fine though because you could just wait until you got home. Now that won’t be until tomorrow morning.

“Yeah, I mean I would love to stay if it’s not too much of a hassle”

He smiles from ear to ear throwing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

“Oh yeah! I get my girl all night now”

You can’t help but laugh at his goofy reaction, he’s truly such a sweet soul. You are laying half in his lap as he gently kisses your head, turns you around and places you so your head is laying in his lap looking up at him.

“This is so exciting, this is our first time spending a night together. I’ll get you some clothes to change into and you can shower if you want, are you hungry because you haven’t eaten anything all day.”

You simply smile up at him as he softly tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m okay, I told you I had a late lunch. And im not ready to go to bed yet can we stay like this for a little longer”

Still playing with your hair and looking down at you with a sweet smile he responds. “I’d be happy to stay like this for the rest of our lives. But maybe you could eat something, even if you had a late lunch it’s been hours and i worry”

He moves his other hand to rest on your stomach, if he had tried to do that at the beginning of your relationship you would have freaked, but he’s showed you that he truly loves every part of you even the parts you are the most insecure about. You rest your hand over his on your belly to reassure him you are fine.

“I’m not hungry I’m fine.”

“But you don’t eat enough, I barely see you eat. Please just have at least a little bit for my peace of mind.”

Just as you go to open your mouth and speak you feel and hear your stomach make horrible noises as if screaming to take Bucky up on the offer of food. You just close your mouth and look away from Bucky feeling guilty for lying to his face and embarrassed for having your stomach be loud enough to drown out the television.

“Let’s go, come on im making you some dinner” He sits you up and stands in front of you with his hands out ready to take yours. You still can’t process what just happened, you are beyond embarrassed. So you look up stunned at not only his reaction but his persistence in wanting to care for you, you take both his hands and stand up.

He moves both your hands into one of his and walks you towards his kitchen island, where he pulls out a chair for you and motions for you to sit. He then rounds the counter and opens the fridge taking inventory.

“Okay so we could do spaghetti, Mac and cheese, a pb&j or a grilled cheese. Pick your poison baby” He lists off all the options and turns to look over his shoulder at you.

You look up from picking at your fingers and see him gazing back at you, waiting for an answer. “Umm whatever is easiest is fine, thank you” your response is quiet but he hears you and starts to take things out of the fridge.

As he makes you food he hums soft melodies of old songs from his childhood. Swiftly and easily moving throughout the kitchen without any hesitation or look of upset.

“Here you go doll, eat up please it’s made with extra love” he places the dish right in front of you and turns to grab you some water. On the plate in front of you is two grilled cheese sandwiches, cut into perfect triangles.

Bucky places water down next to you and then takes the seat beside you.

“Please eat” he says as he places a hand on your back rubbing up and down your spine.

“Why did you make me two, I don’t need that much.” You say in a slightly anxious way.

“Well because I didn’t know how much you wanted and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable to ask for more if you wanted it, that’s all. Just eat what you want and leave what you don’t, it’s not big deal.”

You look at your plate, you are really hungry and it looks so good. You pick up a half and take a bite, it’s just as good as it looked. But you can’t help but feel awkward just having him watch you eat. “Will you eat too, I feel weird eating alone”

“Of course you don’t have to ask me twice I’m always ready to eat” so he picks up another half and takes a bite.

You both sit and eat in silence for a minute until he places a hand on your knee and asks you a question. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were hungry, earlier or now? I feel like your never hungry, or at least that’s what you tell me. What’s the matter baby, tell me”

You swallow the grilled cheese and take a sip of water to wash it down before speaking.

“I don’t know I feel weird asking for food, I mean I feel weird eating in front of people in general especially you. Your so..you know all muscles and hotness and I’m squishy, I guess I just didn’t want you to judge me.”

The hand in your knee grips a little tighter, “Oh baby no don’t think like that. First of all I think your all curves and hotness so don’t ever think I’ll judge you for what you look like or eat. I love you so much and I don’t want you to feel like you have to go hungry while your with me because you think I’ll judge you for eating. It doesn’t make any sense to me baby, you need to eat that’s what keeps you alive and healthy and full of energy.”

“It’s not that I don’t eat, I just don’t like eating in front of people. Maybe you think I’ll eat too much or that I don’t eat all super healthy food. People can be really mean, and I think I just developed ways to stay safe from judgment.”

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. “Oh honey, your always safe with me. You could tell me you wanted to eat six whole pizzas and I’d buy them for you, sit next to you and eat seven myself. You are never going to be judged by me, never I promise you. But you have to promise me that you will eat when your hungry because I worry. Can you do that?”

You lean back and look him in the eyes, nodding your head yes. “Yeah I can do that”

At this point you both finished your food and are ready to get settled in for the night. Bucky takes the dirty plate and puts it in the sink to take care of tomorrow.

You follow him to his room where he pulls out some clothes for you. He hands you a shirt and a pair of boxers then leads you to the bathroom.

“Here is all my shampoo and soapy stuff, and I there are some extra toothbrushes under the sink. Help yourself to whatever you need, and I’ll be just out there watching some tv.”

You offer him a warm smile and he leans in, grabs your jaw and places a soft kiss on your lips. He was such a good man and he did everything he could to make you comfortable. It’s like he was your saving grace ready to scrub away all the dirt and scuffs people had left on your shiny soul and bright heart. So that way he can show you how beautiful of a person you are under all the damage people have done.

While in the shower you can’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted off you after your conversation tonight. You know Bucky loves everything about you and it makes you feel like all the bad things people had ever said to you didn’t matter anymore. The one person that does matter is erasing all those negative things they ever planted in your mind.

You wash up and brush your teeth, then put on the clothes that Bucky let you borrow. The shirt hung loose over your body stopping just below your hips, the boxers were soft and comfortable.

You leave the bathroom and walk into the bedroom to see Bucky leaning back in the bed on his phone. He’s wearing a pair of shorts and no shirt, and boy does he look pretty.

“Did you have a nice shower doll?” He asks not looking your way, he then turns his head to look at you. “Oh don’t you look pretty in my clothes.”

You laugh and walk up to the edge of the bed, pull the blankets back and sit down. “Your crazy, James I swear”

“Oh first the clothes now calling me James, ughh you are doing something to me.”

You blush and look at him, both of you with goofy smiles on your face. You and him have never done anything like that before. (taking things slow, remember) So you knew he was mostly just trying to get you flustered, and it was working.

You both get fully under the blankets and snuggle up together, you being the little spoon. You were never a small girl but next to him you felt like it. It felt comfortable and safe, like you knew nothing bad could happen when he was by your side.

He rests his hand over yours on your stomach, giving it a slight rub. “Is your tummy nice and happy, she’s not hungry anymore?”

You laugh at his silly question but you know he’s serious and he really does care. “Yeah she’s good”

“Good, if my girl is happy then I’m happy. Good night my love sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams Bucky, I love you.”

That night you dreamt of grilled cheese, your sexy shirtless boyfriend and his caring heart. The best part is, when you wake up in the morning it’s all real and it’s all yours.

——————————————————————————

Masterlist

[finalgirlkateausten]

bruised like violets

post-4x08 "the first ones". after that utter wreck of a mission, Jack refuses to take up infirmary resources when so many of his men are worse off than some chewed-up wrists. Sam won't let him get away with his silent self-punishment. TW for minor injuries, self-loathing, mentions of minor character death

The white bandages around Carter's wrists keep peeking out from under the sleeves of her BDU jacket. Jack keeps frowning down at them while he watches her, carefully disassembling her weapons and cleaning the rest of her gear. He's working on his own P90 right now, but it's slower going, when every snap of his wrist burns his skin, makes his eyes water a little. He doesn't mind though. The pain he'll sit through while the zip tie burns heal won't be anything compared to the soldiers who lost their lives to Goa'uld and Unas and the fire of friendly semi-automatics. Fraiser and her team have their hands full enough already; he can suffer a little until his cuts scab over.

He's returning his gun to the armory rack when he becomes cognizant of the presence at his shoulder. "Sir. You haven't gotten checked out yet?"

He looks over his shoulder at Carter. Big mistake, her blue eyes are searching and a little worried, and something hurts in his chest. "I got checked out enough to know I'm not a Goa'uld. They're busy down there, I don't need to be in anyone's way."

"You need to get your injuries seen to," Sam retorts, one eyebrow lifting.

Jack pulls back his sleeve from his left wrist, the fabric rough against the irritated skin. It almost feels like he's looking at someone else's arm, despite the fact that he can feel the tightness when he moves his wrist, the sting that's settled under the skin.

"I'll be alright," he mutters absently.

"Not if those cuts get infected," Sam says, her eyes boring into his. "I mean, really, sir, we were crawling around in the dirt on what is likely the home planet of the Goa'uld. D'you really wanna risk it?"

Jack stares at the floor. She can be downright pushy sometimes. "I'll live, Major," he grunts.

Still frowning, Carter turns away, returning to her pack. Jack gets a moment of relief to think she'll finish what she's doing and leave him to his silent self-flagellation, but then she pulls her field first aid kit out, carrying it back over to him. She inclines her head toward the bench, pulling out gauze, medical tape, and some cleanser. "Sit down."

He does. "Since when do you give the orders?"

Sam doesn't answer, instead pouring the cleanser onto a pad of gauze. He hisses when she begins to dab at the dried blood and barely-healing scabs on his right wrist.

"Daniel is safe," she reminds him quietly.

Jack winces, his stomach knotting at how quickly she's caught on to the storm whirling around his head. "Yeah, well, how about Rothman? Hawkins? The rest of SG-11?"

"SG-11 was dead before we even got there, Sir."

"It was the Goa'uld homeworld." He closes his eyes. Whatever she's doing burns even more now that the wounds are open again. "We got too comfortable. Thinking they'd all moved on to become dictators across the galaxy. I should've been ready for some kinda bullshit to happen."

"And I'm the one who's supposed to be able to sense them," Carter replies, an edge to her voice. "Yeah, we didn't know exactly what we were walking into. We never do. We did what we had to do to get home alive... sir."

He opens his eyes again. Looks at her. By now, he recognizes the blank expression she wears when the other option is folding in on herself and succumbing to tears. Without conscious thought, he turns his hand as she dabs neosporin on his wrist, locking his fingers through hers.

Are you ever going to call me Jack?

But saying that out loud would definitely not be leaving it in the room.

"Hey," he says, his voice rougher than he realizes, "what's the point of me being in command if you're going to beat yourself up too, huh?"

Sam doesn't quite smile. He wonders if she gets lost in his eyes sometimes, like he always does in hers. "At least I let Janet bandage me up instead of running off and hiding." She gently pries his fingers away, delivering a soft pat to the back of his hand before she layers gauze over his skin. His stomach flips.

"Must not've hidden very well, since you found me."

She does the thing where her bottom lip pulls briefly between her teeth. Jack shoves his free hand into his pocket as the idea of brushing his thumb over that lip crosses his mind. "I think sometimes you think you need to be alone when it's maybe not the best idea after all."

"Well." The pain in his chest has turned into a familiar but terrifying warmth, always Carter-induced. "I mean, good ideas are generally your purview. Not mine." He's glad when she wraps the final bandage over his wrist and moves onto his other arm. The gentle precision she's using is doing something to him, to his brain-- he shouldn't be alone in a dark room with her much longer.

"I dunno," she offers, administering the stinging cleanser once again, "honestly, a better idea would probably have been to drag you down to the infirmary instead of doing this here."

"You're more than trained for this," he points out. "It's just band-aids, really." Her fingers along the inside of his arm make him jump more than the ointment on his cuts.

Carter hums. "Not what I meant."

He knows. "I'm glad it's you," he says, even though he shouldn't.

She won't look at him now. "Teal'c would've been rougher. Faster, though."

"Teal'c wouldn't talk, either," he says softly, knowing she knows he doesn't mean that as a good thing. "And he'd leave me here, too. To my own devices."

Sam sighs. "I'm heading back to my lab once we're done here. If you want to listen to me explain quantum physics while I try to distract myself from writing that damn mission report."

"Hey," Jack protests, "Hammond told us all to take the night off." He doesn't wait for her protests about physics being stress relief for her. "We should at least go see if there's blue Jell-o in the commissary."

Finally, a smile. She glances up at him before finishing the layer of gauze and grabbing the roll of bandages again. "Or pie."

"Or pie," he agrees. "I mean, come on, is there anything food doesn't fix?"

"Flesh wounds," Carter says pointedly, tearing the bandage and tucking it into itself.

His hand twitches as he stops himself from taking her hand again. "Well, that's what I have you for." He stands up, bumping his shoulder against hers as she packs away the first aid kit. "Hey, look at that. We match."

Sam brushes her fingers over the bandages, her own more visible since she'd pulled up her sleeves to work. She hums, her fingers moving from bandage to skin. Jack holds himself very still, waiting as her touch ghosts from his palm back up to his forearm. He's surprised when she lets her hand land there, squeezing his arm once. "That's better."

"It is." He lays his hand over hers. "Thank you."

She's staring at him, and his heart is trying to escape his chest, and he wants to close the distance and kiss her but he's just so tired. For the thousandth time, he reminds himself to be content just knowing that she knows. That she maybe even wants to kiss him herself right now.

"Come on." She takes his hand and leads him out of the armory, letting go once they're in the open hallway. "Jell-O time."

They're alive. Daniel's alive. And he still has her, in the ways that really matter.

He looks down at their matching bandages and finally starts to feel a little better.

[just-orbiting-you]

I’m so so glad you’re being honest and transparent about AYS and jikook’s dynamics change. I felt really weird after I finished watching the show and when i came to X and tumblr most jikookers were focusing on the skinship moments but no body is talking about how off everything felt between them. I think you summed it up pretty nicely so I won’t repeat what was said but watching how jk acted when jm was sick made my heart sink. I felt so so bad for jm i was praying that there’s someone from staff at least taking care of him. There was zero worry or compassion from jk which shocked me a lot. I think this is where I realized that they’re definitely not together and I’m ok with that. Kinda relieved tbh, i feel like i finally have a clear answer. Now regarding tae being in the next episode, i saw the clip and JK was being his usual passive aggressive self lol, that’s just how he is with tae and now with jimin too apparently. I have to admit, now that I’m seeing jkk in a whole different light I’m not worried about how different jk is gonna treat vmin, none of them is in a relationship so I don’t care if he’s nicer to v. I just hope jimin had a great time and enjoyed himself (tae and jk too) i hope they all had a good time. I only wish jimin wouldn’t receive hate after the episode no matter how it turns out.

hey anon, im responding but with intention that im hoping you’ll see the response :). i don’t really want other anons in my inbox criticizing your words. from someone who thought like you, i hope we can enjoy the show and engage with it critically instead of just writing it off as a "be careful what you wish for."

while i think this point could get us backed into a corner a little bit, i've had a few anons, including this one write about how they could be omitting the truth for the sake of the show, to fit a narrative. if we turn to speculation instead of looking at what they show us head on, it can be hard to fully believe. what we do know is they had to see each other to plan the show, they saw each other at yoongi's concert, at hobi's enlistment (and maybe drinking that night before who knows). i think face era was a hindrance to their friendship, but as the year went on things got better. i think about that tiny clip from jimin's production diary livestream and jimin was so excited to see jungkook, jungkook was all smiles like nothing changed.

i think, even the people we love most, we don't see often or even don't try to make an effort to see based in individual circumstances. and we don't know their circumstances outside of bts and solo schedules. with bts going on group hiatus, things were already going to change. relationships change naturally and i think giving jikook that grace is okay. i don't think their relationship has turned into one of vitriol or negativity. they still very much care about each other and i think if this was how the year started off, the distance from each other probably propelled them into deciding to enlist (distance makes the heart grow fonder and such). also i think you can see them start to fall into their ways as the trip carries on. i felt a dramatic shift in tone after their boat ride and once jungkook cooks for them, it feels like we are at the jikook we know. so i hope this show was able to help them reconnect.

I felt so so bad for jm i was praying that there’s someone from staff at least taking care of him. There was zero worry or compassion from jk which shocked me a lot.

this anon and a few other posts in the jikook tag were talking about this and i think i have changed my opinion on this. jungkook has known jimin for years, he probably knows when jimin needs in stressful situations and that might just be a little space and some jokes to get him laughing. jungkook didn't bother him when he rested, he let him be. i think jungkook did what a friend would do in this instance, and try to go about their day making the most of it while conscious of jimin's state. possibly the camera involved maybe could have escalated the level of jokes around jimin's misfortune. but from what was on camera, jimin started feeling better after the boat and they ended the trip on a good note.

i don't even want to speak on the tae stuff, because that will open a big can of worms. i appreciate you coming forward as well to talk about it as well. definitely rewatch the show too i think a second watch could change how you're viewing it.

[oswaldsleftbicep]

hey, could you write headcanons about how Lucia, Oswald and Lucas would be like in a romantic relationship with autistic person?

lucia, oswald, & lucas +a gn!s/o with autism

big disclaimer: i am not autistic. my basis for this post lies in my previous research of asd, reading works by autistic writers, and my encounters with my lovely friends who are on the spectrum.

genre: fluff

cw: reader has high functioning autism, language as usual

Lucia

❧ ok first off y'all would be the perfect adhd + autism duo, things just instantly click between the two of you

❧ that being said, shit just kinda flies out of his mouth sometimes and he says the darndest things that hardly make sense-- please feel free to interrupt him and have him explain in more,, understandable terms

❧ he probably had a special interest growing up but had to stifle it in favor of learning politics, so he feeds off of your special interest and gets just as into it as you do

❧ in fact, he sees you going about your life in tandem to your special interest as an "it's okay!" to finally start indulging in one of his own :,)

❧ he genuinely thinks that you're the smartest person in all of nightmare, going as far as to declare you an expert in your field and will come to you with any and all questions he has; please info dump to him, he loves it

❧ he's usually big on physical touch but he'll respect your wishes if you prefer to not be touched, or he'll always ask permission to touch you

❧ he's gotten used to having to hold intense eye contact for extended periods of time due to his position, so if you're the type to also make too much eye contact, you have nothing to worry about! he doesn't find it off putting at all! however, if you find eye contact uncomfortable, he'll remind himself to look at something else when talking to you every now and then

❧ before meeting you, he had no idea what stimming was, nor that it was something he kinda already did, like he'll tap on his desk with his pen or he'll shake his leg a lot; he used to have such a hard time sitting still but learned to mask his fidgeting over time

❧ same goes for fidget/stim toys, he's always on the lookout for something new to try with you, and the two of you have built quite a collection of favorites

❧ he absolutely funds more research on autism in nightmare, and he makes sure there are good facilities with quality resources and support available for all

❧ the first time he witnessed you have a meltdown, he kinda freaked out a bit; he genuinely was at a loss for what to do. but he asked questions after and learned from it, and now he's a champ! he's invested in a little care basket full of comfort items for when you come down

❧ he makes sure to adjust his room to meet your sensory needs. he's a generally kinda messy person, but he'll tidy up for you. he'll also invest in some good curtains and maybe even a canopy for his bed

Oswald

❧ he's soso patient and understanding so you never have to feel self conscious or bad about anything around him

❧ he's relatively new to the issue when it comes to the medical side and the terminology, but he has some experience handling it thanks to noel

❧ if your special interest has something to do with gardening or really anything nature related he gets a little excited because that's something big you two have in common! and he takes it as an opportunity to learn from you

❧ ofc that goes for any special interest you have, no matter the topic. he recognizes that it's something important to you and wants to learn all about it as best he can

❧ he's not an especially touchy person in general, and always preferred to ask before touching you anyway which is perfect for if you're not comfortable with physical contact

❧ ngl he was a little perplexed at stimming at first, but not in a bad way, moreso in a "wow that works? interesting" kinda way

❧ he also finds it lowkey adorable when you get caught up in stimming, and he just kinda admires you

❧ he'll keep a pocket sized sensory toy in his pocket at all times in case you ever want one. he'll also make it a point to carry a small case for ear plugs when you go out in public, and a little snack in case you can't find any safe foods anywhere

❧ speaking of safe foods, he always makes sure he keeps a cabinet in his cabin full of your safe foods and ingredients to make them

❧ he's very empathetic when you have a meltdown, and he's very quick to help and find out what you need in that moment

❧ if you're prone to any harmful actions during meltdowns, or even as general stims, he'll try to direct it away from you. like if you hit, he'll have you hit him or something soft so you won't hurt yourself, or if you bite your nails, he'll hold onto your hand and give you a sensory item to chew on instead

❧ his cabin is sensory heaven, never too bright, never too loud, nothing overpowering to the senses. it's very peaceful and calming

Lucas

❧ this mf speaks in riddles half the time which is hell if you have a very literal mindset. please tell him to speak right lmao

❧ he has sensory issues when it comes to clothes, like he cannot stand tight clothes or heavy fabrics; you bet he knows all the best places to get clothes that suit your exact needs

❧ he's got a deep knowledge of a lot of obscure things and is always thirsting for more, which makes him great to info dump to and with; he's such a great listener and will actually absorb what you tell him

❧ he's surprisingly not a very touchy person, and he's always super mindful about when and where he's touching you, and he's always so gentle

❧ he also always seems to know exactly what you're thinking and feeling, even when you can't express it properly, it's almost uncanny but it's mostly just insanely helpful when you feel stuck

❧ if you ever feel too insecure to stim or if you just get too tired of masking in public, he'll take the two of you to a secluded area where you can let it all out and do what you need to feel comfortable

❧ if you're prone to more harmful stims, he stops you before you can even start and suggests an alternative. he carries a little bag of emergency items for you at all times, and it's full of stuff like ear plugs, sensory toys, snacks, and even your meds if you take any

❧ he's very quiet when it comes to handling your meltdowns; he can read you well and immediately prepares what you need without a word spoken

❧ he keeps a messy house, and if that's something that causes you stress, he'll try to keep it more organized or at least categorize everything with your help

❧ he also has a ridiculously comfy bed, like something you'd only see on pinterest, and it's the best place every to unwind and relax

[poisonouswritings]

Hehehe hey, Ozzy! How are you doing? I'm reading the last post rn and the thought of child!Sage (courtesy of Felix's faulty potion) clinging to your leg, Very Unwilling to Let You Go as you do your thing, came to me. He totally would. It's canon that he doesn't have parents growing up (cough abandonment issues cough) so when he sees you, it clicks in his head that This Person Loves and Cares For Me and he grips onto you with his grubby lil paws >:3 hehehe

You spoon feeding him? He's nomnoming the whole airplane.

You cuddling him to sleep? He is a koala and you are the tree.

You doing your chores and training? He is your Little Helper Protoge

Smol kitten man AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Tulsi prolly teases him but in truth she is Very Soft for big bro

Omg I've been wanting to do this for so long but I kept getting distracted with stuff

GN!Reader, we're gonna say Sage is like,,, six to seven? He's a kitty, Tulsi Is Dressing Him Up In Stupid Outfits, long one because hehehe kitty

I wanna say that you and Tulsi were out for the day,, like just hanging out because you're friends y'know,, ('Ozzy this isn't a Tulsi-' every post is a Tulsi post it's in the subtext) and then you guys get back and Felix is all disheveled and running around Fathom and you're like 'Hey What Happened Is Everything Okay?' and he gets all nervous and tries to say that everything is fine but then like,, you hear a ruckus in the kitchen and you both go over to check it out and its Kitten!Sage rummaging through cupboards because he's hongry and used to stealing,, and then you guys come in and his fur bristles and he hisses and hides under a table and you really slowly round on Felix and Felix is just Preparing For Death Because You Are Gonna Kill Him

'Felix :)' '*swallows* y-yes MC?' '*grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him like a rag doll* WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO!?!?!?'

Sage obviously runs off into town because he doesn't wanna get in trouble so now you and Felix have to chase after him. And y'know what? Little shit is fast. He doesn't have the memories of his older self but he certainly has the instincts so he's easily able to evade you guys.

You guys only catch up to him because he's being dragged by the arm by a shopkeeper who's accusing him of stealing and he's visibly scared and in pain and you run over and force the shopkeeper to let him go,, and it's the first time kitten!Sage has had anyone defend him so he immediately latches onto your leg. And at first he's only doing it so the shopkeeper leaves him alone but as you kneel down to his level and ask him (in that soft and comforting voice you take on with kids) if he's okay and you get him a little snack to make him feel better he decides that Yes, This Person Is Who I Imprint On and then he Never Leaves You Alone.

The entire walk back to Fathom he's underfoot, darting in circles around you and asking questions, telling you make-believe stories, teasing Felix (because even as a kitty he's still a little shit), etc etc. And once he finds out you're from a different world? Oh His Big Kitty Eyes Are So Big And Wide In Excitement

By the time you guys get back to Fathom, Sage is in your arms and koala-hugging you. He Is Your Burden Now.

Kitty!Sage still has insecurities. They're a little different than when he's older. Some of them are weaker, some are stronger. Yes he does have abandonment issues but he also has very strong self-worth issues. He's a dwarf rat and he knows it. He doesn't really understand why it is you're putting up with him (you tried to explain it but he kinda got distracted because he could hear a bird somewhere outside) but he's happy you are. He doesn't wanna do something wrong to ruin it but he also knows that it's only a matter of time before he does. He tries to be on his best behavior but it only makes him self-conscious, and then his cat instincts mixed with a natural child-like energy make him zip around the stronghold like a rocket, and then he's upset with himself because He's Gonna Make You Upset And Then You're Gonna Hate Him Like The Shopkeeper Did >:(

And you scoop him up and smooch his cheek and tickle him a little until he stops pouting and starts giggling. It hurts a bit, for someone so young to have so much pressure and self-loathing on their shoulders. So you help as much as you can.

When Anisa comes back that evening you're sitting in Felix's study with Sage on your lap, reading him stories. He doesn't know how to read at this point (I think he probably learned later on in life) but He Tries Really Hard So That You'll Be Proud Of Him! And whenever he manages to stumble his way through a multi-syllable world (he's wrong half the time but you don't tell him that) you praise him and smooch the top of his head and he just has the softest and most innocent little giggle oh he's a soft little kitty so happy and warm and sweet and innocent and he just gets to be a kid

Meanwhile Anisa is beating Felix up in the background

Felix says it'll take a week to reverse the spell so you will have to babysit (since Sage hisses at the others).

Stella chooses that moment to walk in. Sage's fur bristles, he hisses, then hides under the table.

,,, this is gonna be a long week

Okay firstly,, playing with Stella's cat toys. Kitty!Sage is so energetic,, I know you play with kittens 2-3 times a day, usually for 15-ish minutes at a time. And then you have to give kids 30-ish minutes of guardian-led playtime and then let them have about an hour of free playtime (aka letting them play by themselves). I would assume you have to do more than that for an ilephta so like,, idk I hope you have that laser pointer handy because that'll keep him captivated for ages. Just make sure you're not near anything breakable.

Whether you jog or take walks or whatever your form of exercise is, Sage is darting around beside you. He'll zoom forward a little bit to get a pretty pinecone and bring it back to you, then zip up a tree to try and grab a bird, then pounce on a squirrel, then find a really cool stick and play with it as a sword, then attack a berry bush, then somehow show up with an armful of rocks that he dumps in your pocket/bag. If you have to sit down and take a break then he'll offer to zoom back to Fathom and get some water/snacks for you. He just wants to be helpful

Kittens sleep a lot,, children sleep a lot,,, Sage sleeps a lot. You guys are out in the marketplace (you had to pick up a few things and Sage insisted on coming with you) and he starts whining and pulling on you cause he's sleepy,,, it's nap time,,,, so you have to pick him up and go sit somewhere. He insists you either tell him a story or sing a lullaby.

Obviously you bring him to Tulsi. Tulsi is losing her mind because Oh He's So Tiny!!! She Is The Big One Now >:3 She can carry him on her hip the same way he did to her when they were little. He keeps grabbing at her hair and her ears. She teaches you the lullaby Sage always used to sing her and tells you the stories Sage always used to tell her. Meanwhile Sage is drooling on her shoulder because he fell asleep again.

His playing obviously gets him dirty so you have to haul him into the bathtub. Luckily you thought ahead and got some bubble soap, so load that tub up with bubbles! I suggest you wear a bathing suit because He Will Splash. Bonus points if you can find rubber duckies but he'll bite them so make sure they're decent quality. After his bath you have to try and get him dressed because let's be real he totally would just run around dripping wet and naked because he thinks it's fun. Once you scoop him up, he lets you towel him off and coax him into clothes.

He likes wearing your clothes for pajamas.

Kids can be emotional! Sage definitely has some tantrums over very minor things, but he also has some very legitimate emotional episodes over some very legitimate things. Especially if some of his memories leak into nightmares,,,

Imagine a very smol, very scared Kitty!Sage having to relive Lucan's death when he doesn't even remember who Lucan is, he just sees a very big and scary monster and feels that all-consuming grief and terror and self-hatred when he doesn't even fully understand what the hell he just witnessed. The only saving grace is that he's a lot more emotionally open since he isn't old enough to have all those walls built up yet. He clings to you, sobbing and babbling into your chest while you're only half-awake because It's Three In The Morning What The Hell Is Happening. It takes a little while to calm him down but with a lot of patience, cuddles, smooches, and humming, you finally manage to lull him back to sleep. Luckily he forgets most of it by morning, though he does cling to you a little tighter that day,,

Sage just,, keeps,,, like literally anything he can get his grubby little paws on, he's shoving it into his mouth. You have to constantly keep an eye on him or else he's eating so many bugs. And please be careful letting him around candy because he will eat until he gets sick.

[lo-frequency]

Hello, how are you?! May I please request Shinsou with a chubby/ plus size Female S/O? I adore that you do plus size content and I love body positivity content as well!! Thank you💗

Hey, I’m doing great, thanks for asking! Can I also add how cool it is to see you on my blog? I’ve read your work before, and from one creator to another, thank you for the love and support and keep doing your thing 💕! Anyways, this post is Long enough w/o this author’s note...I kinda wrote a fic in headcanon form so w/o further ado, please enjoy your request: 

-Of course, just like the rest of the characters, he would not place much importance on your body type

-He knows what it’s like to be ostracized for a trait people consider undesirable, so how could he do the same thing to you? 

-I think that because Shinsou is so focused on his goals, he probably wouldn’t be actively considering/seeking a relationship, so it would have to be you who showed interest first. 

-Like imagine, you’re in the same class and he was so cool you couldn’t help but develop feelings for him, admiring him from afar. During class, your eyes wander to him and sometimes he’ll catch your longing stare. 

-The first few times he caught you staring, he figured it was for the same reason everyone else does- you were watching for any signs of villainy, just waiting for him to slip up and prove them right 

-But with how flustered you always get when he meets your eyes and how your friends tease you whenever it happens, he begins to suspect it’s something else. Hm, interesting.

-He began to openly stare at you too, to test his theory, and the day you hesitantly smiled back confirmed what he was thinking: you must like him.

-Shinsou turned around in his seat, his subtle smirk hidden behind the hand on his chin. A girl, liking him? It’s not that he thought he was undesirable, quite the contrary actually (y’all keep sleeping on this man 👀), he’s just not used to the attention. 

-He thought about what to do, now that he was aware of his little admirer. He didn’t really have any friends at U.A., now all of a sudden there’s someone crushing on him? He glanced back at you again, just quick enough to see your eyes dart from his. Cute. Maybe he could try to get to know you, at least? 

-Now, Shinsou is an introvert, but definitely not shy...so when he comes up to your desk one day during break, you nearly choke on your own heart. “Hey,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck, “couldn’t help but notice you staring.” While you tried to stutter out a frantic apology, his lips eased into their usual smirk. 

-And your relationship took off from there. Talking in class and eating lunch together progressed to hanging out after school, and eventually you found yourself sitting with him at a park, about to confess your feelings. 

-The frustrating thing about Shinsou was that you were certain he knew you liked him, but never acted on it. He was the one that initiated your friendship, but had left everything up to you since then. Acting as if he was oblivious to your real feelings. 

-If it wasn’t for that, you wouldn’t be feeling so nervous right now. Shinsou was usually straightforward, so was this a sign he didn’t feel the same way? After all...you were heavier than most of the girls in your class, a fact that always lingered in the back of your mind when you were with him. “Hitoshi…” you started, looking up at him from your place on your shared park bench. Shinsou met your eyes, silent as he watched you fidget with your skirt. His keen purple irises remained neutral as they flickered over your features. You were sure you probably looked as self-conscious as you felt, but there was no going back now.

- “I’m, I’m sure you know this already but I like you.” you let out in a rush, your eyes darting from his as you said it. When he didn’t say anything, you felt the need to keep talking “I’ve liked you since before we met. You’re so smart and cool that I couldn’t believe you came up to talk to me that day. I was so happy,” you say with a short laugh, “and after spending time with you, my feelings only grew...so, d-do you wanna try going out with me, Toshi?” you ask, still picking at your skirt. 

-“Yeah, I’d like that,” he replied with a soft smile, “It’s about time you finally asked me.” 

-So he did know! But more importantly, “Really? You wouldn’t mind...someone like me?” you gestured to yourself vaguely, too embarrassed to openly ask if he minded your weight. 

-Hitoshi squinted at you. “You mean a really hot girl with brains to match? Nah, I don’t think so.” Cue the smirk. 

-Well, that sure answered your question. 

NOW, onto these relationship headcanons (congrats, you earned these 💀) 

-As your boyfriend, Hitoshi would be even more blunt with you than usual, and that includes with his compliments. He’d shamelessly admire your figure, seeing no reason to hold back now that y’all were official. Expect those lidded eyes to drink in those thick thighs, plush waist, and full bosom (in that order) every time you enter or leave a room. 

-Eye contact, eye contact until you get flustered and trip over your words, until you feel like the only girl in the world, until you can’t see anything but him. 

-He doesn’t make a big deal out of your relationship at school, but does enjoy flaunting how close you two are. Makes a point to do everything with you, it’s you and Shinsou against the world in his mind. 

-Speaking of school, I think he’s one of those people who likes it when other people crush on his s/o. Likes it when other people notice exactly how attractive you are, but guess what? You’re all his. He’ll sit back and watch those poor, lovesick saps drool over you and think about how lucky he is. He’ll definitely share his appreciation for you later, too ;) 

-Squeezes you tight during hugs, so he can feel all of your softness against him, reveling in your warmth and how comfortable you make him. Has a habit of squeezing your sides during side-hugs, and smiles at the little sound you make. 

-Will sometimes throw and arm around your waist as you two walk together, thumb mindlessly caressing your hip 

-Loves it when you press against him while y’all are sitting together, something about your warmth and weight against him puts him right to sleep.

-Anyone who has anything to say about you or your relationship is getting their feelings hurt by Toshi. He’d tell you not to dwell on it too much afterwards, but you can tell it bothered him more than it did you by the way he kept randomly grumbling about it on the way home. 

-You’re his other half, and anyone who messes with his baby is messing with him, period. 

[yslkook]

good years (1)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you arrive at hobi’s birthday party, along with some of your other friends. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: alcohol, cursing, excessive use of pet names...bc its me

Being late to events, especially events in honor of your friends, was your least favorite thing. Punctuality was one of your top three favorite things about yourself, and yet here you were- nearly sprinting through the streets in heels because you were an idiot and had gotten the name of the bar wrong.

Instead of the Silver Spoon, you’d ended up at the Silver Tongue. That’s what happens when you don’t check your text messages for confirmation and operate on autopilot. So now, you were about an hour and a half late (as if the absence of the birthday boy and his merry band of friends at the Silver Spoon didn’t tell you enough).

Oh well. 

By the time you arrive about twelve blocks away to the Silver Spoon, you quickly make sure that not a hair is out of place before walking into the bar to try to blend in, as if you’d been there the whole time.

“Hobi!” You chirp, finding your friend in the middle of all of the chaos, “Happy birthday, Hobi-”

Hobi turns to greet you, a big (drunk) smile plastered across his face. “You’re late! Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Well, I-uh, this is gonna sound dumb, but-”

You’re interrupted by a few of the guys walking into the bar, causing a ruckus and nearly screeching Hobi’s name. At least you’re not the only one who’s late. And you quickly see Sora in your line of sight, entering in behind the guys.

Sora, your best friend of several years since college. She’s been with you since the beginning, taking you under her wing when you were both young and in college. She had brought you out of your shell a bit, inviting you to parties and inviting you to have dinner with her in the dining hall. The slow convenience of college had blossomed into something real, something that could stand the test of time- also known as the test of post-graduate life.

Her friendship was an adventure to say the least.

“Hey,” You beam at her with drinks for both of you in your hands, “Fancy seeing you here-”

“Hey,” She grins, pulling you in for a hug, “Work was so shitty, like, I had to stay late today. Of all days! I can’t wait to have a fuckin’ drink.”

“Yeah, here’s something funny-” But your words are cut off yet again, by the arrival of more friends. It looks like Sora had invited some of her own friends, friends that you weren’t quite sure liked you very much.

But you don’t dwell on that, instead sipping on your drink and settling on people watching. Settings like this unnerve you- being in a place where you’re not quite friendly with everyone in attendance makes you feel self-conscious. It’s easier to just stay in the background, blend into the walls, so as to not upset yourself-

“Hey, you,” Comes a familiar voice to your right. It’s Yoongi, one of your fellow people watcher enthusiasts. He stands next to you, shoulder brushing against yours.

“Hey, you,” You repeat, flashing him a smile and a playful shove to his shoulder, “How have you been? It’s been a while, Yoongi.”

“You’re the one who’s been hiding,” Yoongi teases, “All cooped up at home.”

“So have you! In your studio,” You protest, poking his shoulder.

“I guess I can’t argue there.”

“No, you really can’t,” You say, “So tell me then, what’s new? What’s coming out of the studio these days?”

You enjoy hearing him speak, the way his passion for his craft pouring through his words. He invites you (again) to stop by the studio if you ever want to. You promise to stop by soon, with his favorite snacks. You usually try to stop by his studio at least once a month to catch up with him. He’s also one of your oldest friends, along with Hobi.

“Hey,” Comes another voice to your left this time. It’s a voice you definitely recognize, a voice that makes you tense up immediately.

Jeon Jungkook has always had a way of making you stammer over your words, ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to him years ago. He’s tall, nearly always dressed in all black, tattoos and piercings coloring his frame, and something sweet and sinful swirls in his dark eyes.

You don’t know if it’s a look that is reserved for you or if he looks at everyone like this, but honestly, your brain short circuits every time he glances your way.

“H-hi,” You mumble, taking a sip of your drink to ease your jumpy nerves. Jungkook only grins at you, his bunny smile a stark contrast to the rest of his aura.

“Been a while, huh?” Jungkook says, voice smooth and sweet like molasses. 

“Y-yeah, been busy,” You mutter. You watch in mild panic as Yoongi walks away, being called away by Namjoon and Taehyung.

“Missed you, baby,” Jungkook winks at you. Somehow, he always gravitates to you at these types of events. Not that you’ll particularly complain- his attention makes you feel warm, even if it’s all for jokes and fun.

As Sora repeatedly has told you.

According to her, he’s the worst- a player, a fuckboy (when he was apparently too old to be one, her words not yours) and this is how he treats any pretty girl. So you don’t take it too seriously, only indulging him a bit and keeping him out of your periphery.

But you won’t deny that his recent use of the pet name might make you swoon a little bit.

“Oh, stop,” You wave him off with heat rising in your cheeks. And he knows it, too, from the self-assured smirk he throws you.

“How’s work been? They got you crunching numbers and all that?” Jungkook asks, ordering himself a beer and a drink for you.

“That’s literally my job, but right now, we just got access to a new database so I’m excited to see what kinds of visualizations and insights we can bring forward. We’re moving forward to proactive analysis, but you know, we’re still a ways away from that, we still react to problems so reactively. Like we’re just putting out fires all the time, it’s kinda tiring but I’m excited-” You cut yourself off at your rambling, sheepishly laughing, “Oh, you should’ve stopped me. I know it’s boring.”

“It’s not boring, not if it’s important to you,” Jungkook shrugs, “Besides, I like hearing you talk.”

“Really? You really wanna hear about the latest and greatest happening in the data world?”

“I wanna hear about anything you have to say, baby,” Jungkook says easily. You squeeze your drink in your hand tightly to ground yourself.

This is why he intimidates you- his affections have only increased in the last few months. It’s like he’s playing a game with you, trying to see how long it takes for you to crack. You don’t know how sincere he is when he turns the charm on- is this how he talks to everyone, or is it just you? 

You like to think it’s just you (because you at least dare to call him a friend of yours), but he could get anyone he sets his eyes on. Rather than spiralling down that train of thought, you bask in his flirtations, his gentle affections hidden under his very many layers of black.

Before you can reply to ask him about the tattoo parlor and about his newly purchased motorcycle, Sora interrupts you both. You’re oblivious to the deadly glare that Jungkook shoots her, and the glare that she shoots right back at him.

She whisks you away, an arm tight around your shoulders. You turn your head and look back at Jungkook apologetically.

This is how it always is, especially for the last few months. As soon as Sora sees Jungkook and you speaking, she’ll immediately do anything to intervene. It’s fucking annoying and Jungkook is beginning to dislike Sora more and more each time he has the misfortune of coming in contact with her. He doesn’t really care about whatever personal vendetta your best friend has for him.

He’s always thought Sora was a conniving woman, full of manipulation and tricks up her sleeve. Ever since Yoongi and Hobi had introduced you to their friend group (and you had brought Sora along as well). His instincts are hardly ever wrong, but he hates to see you spiral with her.

But he’s powerless to stop you from walking away from him. Yet again.

tags: @kookdbean​

[cirilee]

Ok so. I have a bunch of posts still in my drafts and I really shouldn't start anything new but like...

The prime family. OP, Ratch and Bee. Dealing with Bee getting wounded by Megs and losing his voice. Hcs and things to consider/explore:

- Pretty sure ripping one's vocal chords out is rather deadly. Hc Megs was just idk, choking him or sth. Or forced some serious irritant down his throat like idk poison or sth. And maybe leaving the damaged chords would be super dangerous so either KO or later Ratch have to surgically remove them. Both versions interesting to explore ('cons didn't help? they're ALL as cruel and heartless as Megs! 'cons helped? no, they just made things worse, it was a malpractice for sure!)

- OP and Ratch dealing differently with the situation. Both are shaken that Megs did that. Both incredibly worried over their son. Ratch is furious, can't sit in one place and has violent outbursts, ready to rip Megs to shreds and not even trying to hide how furious he is. OP is just... miserable. Trying to figure out what to do. Trying to still be a good leader while bearing the burden of being a father who's son got attacked like this by a person that was once upon a time dear to him. Was it possible to play it out differently? Was it possible somehow end the war? Was he too soft, was he to strict? Is it all his fault?

- Either of the dads falling asleep by Bee's side because of course they do.

- OP and Ratch arguing. Ratch doesn't say it outright and wouldn't even think such things but it kinda sounds like he blames OP for being too soft and for letting that happen. He sure hopes OP doesn't have any bits of hope left regarding Megs. I mean how would anyone dare to have any hope left for that demon? OP just wants to know why. Why did Megs do it, what made him do it. But to Ratch he's not angry enough about it. Why isn't he furious as well, doesn't he care?! Both feel alone in this.

- Omg imagine OP feeling like shit and just flopping to bed after a rough day. And Ratch feeling so bad about this 'cuz this is the guy he loves, he shouldn't let him feel so miserable! And he feels so bad for calling him too soft. Maybe OP is too soft but hey, that's one of the reasons he married him in the first place. Realizing that because of arguing he only hurt him more instead of supporting him as he should and swore to do. So when he lays down next to him he just hugs him from behind in a silent apology. He feels better when he feels how OP holds onto his hand and shifts the position a bit to make it all more comfy for them both. Handholding in bed is so underrated and we need more of it.

- And yes, OP is the little spoon. Let the big guy be the little spoon. And when he's the big spoon Ratch is his teddy bear for hugging.

- Bee slowly waking up confused and with weird feeling in his throat. Takes him a moment to realize why his dads are so worried. The reality sinking in. Both dads doing the best they can to help him through

- How did Bee end up getting captured anyway? Does he blame himself?

- How does the sign language learning go for him and others? Does he prefer to just text others at first?

- Does Bee have a scar on his throat? If so, is he self conscious about it? Maybe his parents and Smokes are the only ones he feels comfortable around with it uncovered?

- Oh right, how did Bee and Smokey first meet anyway? How did relationship develop till they realized "omg he's so cute and he's my favouritest person to hang out with, I think I'm in love"?

I GAVE YOU SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE I'M SO SORRY SKDLJFHDKJS

AAAAHHHH oh WOW ok i will try to unpack all of that!!!

@the-shy-lonely-weirdo correct me if it went differently, but we talked about Bee getting captured because he got lured in by someone like prowl. someone who would want for something bad to happen to the prime's son, something that would finally escalate that "cold war" they were having into an actual war, because "damnit, let's eliminate those cons already, prime was being too soft, organising all those unnecessary peace talks, sitting at the same table as those monsters!"

and then megatron truly shows them what a monster he's become and its awful and op just shuts down, because he cannot lose face even when a tragedy like that strikes them. and ratchet knows it, knows why op can't afford to lock himself in a room with their son and just cry his heart out, but it still hurts ratchet to see op rallying their troops as if nothing happened, while bee is still hooked up to several life saving appliances and can't even leave his bed >m<

> there is a scar on bee, but he's not self conscious about it. it doesn't take long for wheeljack and ratchet to invent several gadgets that help him hook into their communication devices - and autobot training includes learning a rudimentary sign language for silent missions, so its not like he's completely cut off from everyone. its just .. different, especially for a former loudmouth like him :c

> Smokey and Bee meet as soon as they find Smoke's pod where he was stored by alpha trion with one of the relics inside him (ugh, gotta find a better way to phrase that haahahah) - at first they butt heads a lot. Smoke wants to kick some decepticon ass and hates how "soft" everyone's being (that argument again, hA! X'D). Bee thinks smoke is a pompous brat without any tact X'D

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part four

summary: friends who fool around almost never works. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: idiots, that’s all <3

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three, part four (6.7k), part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: my favorite part by mac miller, addicted by jorja smith, someone to spend time with by los retros

note: finally got myself to update this fic oml zzz quick psa tho, this will now be a six-part series! hope that’s okay and yenno as always, would love to hear what you think about this (validate me in the tags pls im lonely) happy reading babes! <3

“Yo, grandma. Haven’t you had too much tea to drink?” his voice echoes in the room as soon as he walks into it. You carefully set the cup down on the dining table and looked at him exasperatedly. 

“Haven’t you had too much care to give?” you snark back, earning yourself a disappointed look from him. 

“Really, y/n? That’s the best you’ve got?” he shakes his head at your appalling retort.  What a shame.

You were good at pissing him off to be fair. You just weren’t in the mood to throw teases back and forth especially now that you’re feeling particularly vulnerable.

The week has been far too dreadful for you and you know that you’re willing to grovel your way into the weekend to finally have the time to slack off, not worry about taking a bath, and just go crazy with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

However, just like always, Mathew seems to never run out of ways to get on your nerves. 

He carelessly puts his stuff on the table, causing a fairly loud thud on the surface. 

You let out a deep breath, massaging your temple. 

“Somebody’s cranky.” he grins. Not necessarily the kind you’d want to see from him. 

You try to ignore him for a few minutes but you can’t help noticing how his build easily took over much of the space you’ve already been occupying. You irkingly look up at him, closing the book you were reading. You meet Mat’s eyes who just innocently looked back into yours. Waiting. Possibly plotting on yet another sophisticated way to toy with you.

“You’re a child.” you roll your eyes and return to your reading. He says nothing and instead rests his chin atop his enclasped hands, continuing to bother you with his ridiculously beguiling eyes. He presses his lips together before sighing dramatically. 

“What?” you snap, finally shutting your book down as you look at him. 

“I wanna go out.” he looks up at you in an effort to make his huge physique smaller than it really was. 

“Then go out. You’re a big boy.” you breathe. 

“You just said that I’m a child.” he coos, mimicking a five-year-old’s voice. 

“Stop that.” you glare at him. Mat props himself back and laughs, “Come on. I’m bored.” 

You open your book again just as you reply in a tone that Mat’s getting used to hearing. “Boredom doesn’t give you the right to pester me, Barzal.” 

And as an exchange, he speaks in the same tone rather mockingly, “And so is that attitude, Y/L/N.” 

“Come on, y/n. Let’s go out.” he now pleads, looking up at you with what seems to be his worst impression of a ‘puppy eye’.

“Fine.” you finally concede and you see Mat’s beaming smile instantly. 

“Where’d you want to go?” you ask as you take your reading glasses off.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, obviously teasing. 

On the edge of being irritated, you say, “Are you kidding me?”

“Grandma.” he mumbles before saying, “Do you have anything you want to do? And please don’t say book hunt.”

You suppress a smile and maintain your composure. “I’m craving for pancakes right now but I also wanna drink. Go to a bar or something.”

He nods in agreement. Already stitching his game plan.

“We can do both.”  he bobs his all too fine brows.

He didn’t have a hard time getting you on board with his spontaneity. You actually haven’t gone out in a while and the thought of a possible night out doesn’t seem to be so bad of an idea.

You’ve been with Mat to parties and while the two of you don’t mingle as much as the other guys did, he does know his way around the club. The dance floor, however, he tries. He really does.

For about an hour Mathew waited patiently in the living room as he scrolled endlessly on instagram liking a few photos and laughing at posts the fans tag him occasionally. His eyes were peeled away from the screen when he heard the door to your room click. His irises trail onto your body even if he didn’t plan to originally. 

Mathew, albeit dressed simply in his black turtleneck sweater and a beige overcoat exudes just about the right ‘swag’ (as per how he puts it) to stop you in your stupor. Although what you didn’t know was how you weren’t any different in his eyes. You were dressed quite nicely in a black lace bodysuit with a pair of blackpants accentuated by the black boots you usually wear on a night out. Your coat was slung on your forearm whilst you held your clutch purse in your hand so you could close the door with the other. 

“What?” you blink just as you look down to eye yourself. Feeling a tad self-conscious under his gaze.

Mat immediately breaks it off. He clears his throat, pretending to wipe off the non-existent dust on the accent table. 

“What?” he mirrors with an arched brow.

You shrug off his demeanor, snatching your keys from the accent table before putting it in your purse. 

“Have you called a lyft already?” he nods, absentmindedly scratching his temple. 

“You ready? You look— decent.” He says, trying to act casual and distant when he gives you the compliment.

Not noticing the unfamiliar look his eyes had, you return the compliment and say,  “And so do you. Good job for not looking like you came straight out of an H&M catalogue.” you wink at him with a grin. A thing which was then reciprocated by a deadpan look on his end. 

Before he could even come up with yet another clever way to come at you, you start walking towards the door, looking at him once as you motion the way by curling your finger.

“Haul ass, buddy.”

𖥸

10:15 PM 

Mat decided to bring you to the usual place he goes to when he wants to be alone and just enjoy a couple of beers while he chats with River, the bartender he eventually befriends after years spent drinking in solitude. 

The bar had a rustic feel filled with wine barrels in the corner of the room. The seats were leather (mind you, it wasn’t the kind that gets easily worn out through time) and everything looked new to you regardless of all the vintage stuff displayed articulately on the brick wall. A turntable was set on the table stacked with vinyl records, most of which were from the 70s to 80s underneath.

It was obvious that it wasn’t the kind people would know about. Aside from it being located at such a secluded street leading to the suburbs, it wasn’t the type of bar kids would want to hang out in. It only had a few customers and most of them wore suits and came with company. No one really gave a hoot when you walked in with Mathew, aka, the face of the New York Islanders. Which is basically the reason why Mat kept coming back to the place. He felt comfortable and at peace. Almost in retrospect to being at home hanging with his father. 

“I can’t believe this place exists.” you say, mouthing your thanks to River as he hands you both of your drinks. The man that’s definitely aged like fine wine smiles, nodding his head over to Mat who was doing the same before he headed back to mix another set of drinks. 

“Me neither.” he grins, reminiscing about the time he’s found the small pub by accident. 

“This place looks expensive though.” you whisper, making Mathew laugh. 

“Well, it kinda is.” he sheepishly chuckles. “River’s filthy rich.”

“Is he really?” your mouth falls and you look back over the build of the old man. The way his salt and pepper hair was neatly slicked back makes quite a compelling case for what Mat had just said. 

Mat eventually explains who he was. Apparently, he was just another bored fancy man who happened to love making people drop dead and drunk with his over the top mixes. His dark deep set brown eyes are quite of a crowd favourite too. Case in point, the group of ladies seated from across you and Mathew.

“Hey.” you absentmindedly call on Mat who had just sipped on his drink. “I know what we should do.”

“All right.” he puts the glass down, “Lay it on me.”

“Let’s fix you up with one of the girls over there.” you suggest, leaning towards his body so you could get a better view upfront. Mat does not move and instead follows your finger subtly pointing at the other end of the room.

“What’s with the sudden fixation of getting me bagged tonight, huh?” he smirks, shaking his head at the idea of having to go home with some random girl. You give him a side eye as you move away from him. 

“Fixation is an overstatement. We’ll be here long enough for us to get sick of each other.” you explicitly told him. 

Mat eyes you intently. Searching if there was even the slightest doubt in your eyes. 

Long enough to get sick of each other. 

He clears his throat instead and looks across the room. “Which one?”

A gleeful cheer erupts from you just before you look over the girls in question. “What’s your type?” you ask him, not sparing a glance.

Mat looks down on you underneath the bar lights accentuating your features. Your eyes had a certain glint in them that Mat still can’t get a grasp on. Something that was just enough to spark something inside him. He didn’t want to overthink it nonetheless. It must have been just the lights. 

Once Mat sensed that you were about to look at him he immediately turned his gaze forward, squinting his eyes a little pretending to check out the women you’ve been eyeing for the last minute. 

“I don’t really have a type.” he shrugs, casually taking the fragile glass to his mouth. 

You dismiss what he said at once, “Do I look like a child to you? Just answer it.”

Mat shakes his head, “I told you. I don’t have one. If we vibe then we vibe. Simple as that.” 

You did not believe him but you decide to drop it off. Instead, you look back and return to your new found mission. Across the bar, seated were three girls busy talking to each other. 

“Got it.” you tell Mat, nodding your head towards the clueless girl sitting right across from where Mathew was. “The one in the center.” you add. “The one wearing a white bodycon.”

“She’s pretty.” he nods, validating your taste as his potential wingman. “Nice smile.”

Your hand met a firm slap on the table as you went on cheering for him. “Well? Go then!” you give him a nudge, taking it back quickly when you feel a slight hesitation on his part, “Don’t tell me you need me to introduce you?”

He takes the remainder of his glass and shaked off the kick it had in his throat. “You just sit and watch, babe.”

You do as you’re told and lean towards the bar, your elbow carrying all your weight whilst you sip on your half-full martini. 

Mathew’s stance and the way he carries himself immediately caused the girls to notice him coming. Of course, you weren’t really surprised. You watch him approach her,– reading along the words leaving his mouth. There was an exchange of proper ‘hello’s’ as Mat introduced himself to the girls. He reaches out his hand and the curly noirette in the center gives him a firm shake. 

Mat’s eyes momentarily locked with yours just as you see their hands linger in the air— tangled long enough for him to make a quick segway. He winks your way as he sees you grin from your seat, shaking your head just after you felt the need to take a deep breath. A thing you assumed to be because of the drink. So, while Mat leads the girl to one of the empty booths and sits across from her, you call on River and ask for another drink. 

Mathew must have lost track of time by the second drink he shared with Zoe. He learns that she’s from upstate and was just on the island to visit her friends. She’s still working on her major at NYU; coincidentally in the same field as Lianna so that was one of the things they’ve talked about first hand. She wasn’t really into sports so Mat steered clear of his job because he didn’t want to bore her. 

“So…” Zoe smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What’s the deal with you and the girl you’re with?” 

By the time she asked about you, only then did Mat remember who he was originally with. 

“Oh! She’s—” he looks over to where you’re seated only to find you laughing— no giggling with a man that was obviously a few years older than you. He’s wearing a neat black suit and a button down shirt with a couple of its first buttons opened. Zoe sees him frown, evidently losing his train of thought. 

She calls him with her sweet voice, “Mat?” 

“Yeah?” he absentmindedly answers, not wanting to take his eyes off of your hand that was now gently pushing the man’s arm whilst the two of you continue to burst into laughter. 

“Are you okay?” she asks.

What’s so funny? 

Finally, Mat hears Zoe’s distant voice that eventually took him back to his seat.

“Oh. Y-Yeah.” he apologetically smiles. “Sorry. What were you saying again?” 

She hesitates to ask about you after taking a quick glance your way upon seeing the way Mathew looked at you. Nevertheless, she decides to go for it.

“Aren’t you two together? I don’t want to come off strong here or anything. It’s just that I don’t want to get in between something if there ever is.” 

Mat looks at you one more time and as if you’ve felt his eyes all along you turn your way and meet his gaze. You shoot him a quiet smile, eyeing the guy sitting beside you, mouthing what he assumes to be an exaggerated “So hot!” on your end. He reciprocates your smile and gives you an approving nod.

Once you looked away, that’s the only time Mat finally answered the woman waiting patiently for his attention. 

“What?” Mat shakes his head wildly, blowing out air off his lips defensively. “No no no. We’re just friends. She’s my roommate actually.” he shrugs you off his mind and instead tries to put his entire focus on her. 

The remaining hours were spent with you and Mat getting along with your respective potential hook-ups. Not that it wasn’t the endgame either of you were hoping for at the back of your minds. 

He’s got to admit that Zoe was the kind of girl he’d be interested in. Another fact he’s kept a mental tab not to mention to you because he knows you’ll just get cocky. 

She was sweet and obviously eloquent. He knows she’s way smarter than he’ll ever be. But out of all those qualities, she was just as passionate at her craft as someone he likes to think he knows well enough. And that alone made a small smile creep on his lips. 

Nonetheless, despite all the aforementioned, Mathew found himself a bit more reserved than he usually is whenever he gets to meet and talk to his potential ‘lady friends’ as how you’ve put it countless times. He just wasn’t his exact self.  And he was beginning to question it. 

There were no fancy hockey plays thrown subtly into the conversation. Neither mentions of golfing nor over the top league events.  No butchered french pet names swiftly tucked in his sentences. And no endless questions that would eventually lead to something along the lines of ‘Do you want to get out of here?’

Well, not until Zoe’s friends got up their seats and she told him herself. 

“Hey. The girls and I are meeting up with some friends in Brooklyn. D’ya wanna come?” 

Mat’s eyes trail down to her hand now gently caressing his. He raises both his brows thinking of a possible ‘out’ because he wasn’t sure if it was a smart thing to leave you alone with a stranger. 

He hums, “Sure.” 

Zoe shows him a delighted smile before eventually sliding out of the booth to walk towards the bar she and her friends were formally seated. 

“I gotta use the restroom first. Please excuse me.” she gives him a nod before going back to chatting with her friends. 

You, on the other hand, see Mat leave the table aiming for an archway you presume to be where the loo was. 

“Hey,” you call the man whose name you’ve already forgotten. Your pause was long enough for him to acknowledge the chances that you actually did forget who he was. Obviously.

“Chris.” The man in his early 30s answers with a submitting grin. 

You shyly laugh, squeezing his forearm as you try to apologize for forgetting. 

“Would you mind if I use the restroom?” you politely ask. 

“No, not at all.” he replies and immediately stands to help you get on your feet. Gentleman. 

Once you are in front of the men’s room, you anxiously wait for your wingman. You hug your purse close to your chest. Not a whole minute after, the door finally opens and you meet Mat’s irises with quite a gleeful look. 

A look he wasn’t a fan of for he knew what’s about to come next. 

“Are you taking off?” you eagerly ask, almost hopping on your feet. 

Mat eyes you from head to toe, looking for signs that would stink from a drunk y/n. When he sees none, that’s when he decides to say that he was. 

“Mkay good. I’ll be on my way too. Chris is taking me to New Jersey.” you tell him, briefly looking through the archway to see if there were people listening.

Once you know you’re clear, you lean towards Mat, your lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of his ear. Mat feels your heated breath sending a familiar tingle up his spine. “I’ll get to ride a yacht tonight.” you bite your lower lip and giddily smile as if you were a cheeky 16 year-old usually depicted in a coming of age movie. 

“Who’s Chris?” Mat, in spite of taking rounds observing you all night, finds the need to ask. “And why are you coming with him to NJ?” he further questions. 

“Uh– okay, dad.” you step back for a second. You let out a scoff, checking if he was being serious about it. “I thought we’re supposed to go get laid tonight? Weren’t you about to take off with that girl yourself?” 

Mat averts your gaze and starts to scratch the corner of his brow. “Well yeah. It’s just that— he looks sketchy.” he pauses, “plus… isn’t he a little too old for you?” 

You roll your eyes as you’ve already expected to hear the words from him. 

“He’s 31. He’s not that old.” you say rather defensively so you turn the ball back on his court. “And what if he was?  Didn’t you ask one of the moms out??”

Mat’s eyes widens and you try to bite back a laugh. He whispers with a biting tone, trying to save himself. “She didn’t look like one! I’m gonna kill Beau I swear to god.”

“Come on Barz. Don’t be such a killjoy. Text me if you need anything, okay? Wrap things up while you’re at it.” you say at once. Mat doesn’t get the chance to talk you out of such a stupid idea because before he even could, you’ve already planted a kiss on his cheek and started walking away. 

Mat waited for the sound of the heavy doors of the bar, signaling that you and your friend have gone, before stepping back to where Zoe was. She waves him near the coat closet. 

“Hi.” Mat greets her friends before eventually turning his attention on the unsuspecting lass. She meets her with a smile (just like what she’s been doing all night). The same smile, however, drops the second Mat opens his mouth. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” 

Zoe nods and willfully abides, letting Mat take her gently by the arm. 

“What’s up?” she innocently asks. 

“Something came up.” he says a little too fast than what he’d originally intended. He was going to let her down either way might as well get it over with and rip up the asshole band-aid. 

“Oh.” she says in a tone Mat knew that she completely understood. 

“No worries.” she looks at him with a knowing look in her eyes. “I’ll see you around then.” 

He gives her a kind smile and nods. “Take care.” 

Mathew walks towards the bar, catching River’s teasing grin whilst he cleans up after the bottles left on the center of the counter. 

“What?” Mat reacts defensively, taking a seat in front of the lone bartender. River faintly shakes his head to leave just enough curiosity in Mathew’s mind. 

“You’re such a tool, old man.” the kid says aiming for the cold beer River has put away for himself. River did not mind because he’s grown fond of the star player for the past years he’s spent going on late night drinks at his bar. Years that even justifies a proper amount of time for him to know the in’s and out’s of one Mathew Barzal. 

“I haven’t said a thing.” he shrugs amidst the already wide grin on his face. 

There’s wisdom in his eyes that Mathew has always admired. He wasn’t the guy who’d want to talk about what’s going on inside his head but with how River’s pub seems to be just the right place, he eventually concedes and takes a shot to pick on the old man’s brain.

“Come on, spill it out. I know you’re going to anyway.” Mat gives in, running his thumb on the moist label of the bottle. 

River wipes his hands before resting it atop the counter. “Well, it’s just that– I ain’t used to seeing you turn down ladies like that too often. And you’re definitely not one to stick around watching me clean up.”

Mat stays silent for a moment, as if to gather the exact reason as to why he chose to stay. He still has a long way to go before figuring that one out. He wasn’t exactly as sharp as he was on the ice.

“I don’t know, man.” he chuckles tirelessly, “I guess I wasn’t in the mood. That’s all.”

“You?” River shots a brow and dismisses him, shaking his head. When Mat doesn’t answer, he carefully picks on his choice of words and lays it down carefully for him. After all, Mathew should have known that River was old enough to not know what’s going on.

“Though I gotta be honest with you, hijo. Never imagined you’d bring someone here.” he starts. 

What must have been a shot in the dark for the old man was just enough to tear Mathew’s eyes away from staring at the water beads on the bottle.

“What?”

“The girl, Barz.” he says, banging on the head of the bottle to knock the cap off. “She a friend?” 

“What? Y/N?” Mat quirks his brows trailing off where River was exactly headed, “What about her?— Oh, her? Yeah, no. She’s just a friend.”

“She pretty.” he speaks in a sound accent, not wanting to let Mat know he’s growing to like catching the young lad off guard. Mathew nods casually despite the continuous blabbering. “She’s y/n. But yeah— I guess, she is pretty.” 

“Then what are you doing being just friends with a pretty girl?” River inquires, taking a sip of his beer. When he sees him trying to register what he’d just said he then adds, “Why not be with her? Date her?”

“Psh. What? Date y/n? That’s crazy.” Mat shakes his head furiously, “You’re crazy.” 

“What’s so crazy about that?” River takes offense, laughing at the child’s naivete. 

“I can’t date her. I mean— I won’t date her.” he takes the bottle to his mouth, taking a large gulp before continuing, “We’re in this weird relationship thing. A setup, actually, and it’s— it’s crazier than dating her. I swear, you of all people won’t get it.” 

“What makes you think I can’t?” he smirks, “I’ve had my fair share of crazy.” River points out despite the hesitation in Mat’s eyes. “I got all night, kid.” he adds, letting him have the floor to himself. 

“You really want in on this?” he second guesses, not wanting to bore the man with his personal life.

River leans against the brass counter just below the lit rack of vintage scotch displayed on the bar. He then gestures him to give a piece of his mind and Mat finally submits to his offer.

“We’ve been in a few… prior engagements,” he starts trying to find the appropriate word. “Well, sort of.”

River hums, not necessarily getting on the same page as him so he decides to be upfront about it.

“We’ve… slept together.” he confesses.

“So you used to date her?” the old man asks. 

“No.” he answers, “I told you we’re just friends.” 

With furrowed brows, River takes a minute. And once Mat hears an all too familiar “Oh.” he sees him break a chuckle, shaking his head at the thought of what Mat had just told him. “You kids have way too much fun these days.”

Mathew shrugs, “Hey, I warned you. Told you you wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay, make me understand something here. You two sleep together, fool around, do all that shit.” he says, “and you swear you’re not in a relationship?”

“Nope.” Mat answers with pride, popping out the word with a hard ‘p’.

“Huh.” River clicks his tongue, “How long have you two been… engaged?” 

He rolls his eyes when River uses his word, “About two months.” he answers shortly.

“Is she seeing anyone since you two started this thing? You know, casual dates, the ones I presume she’s been getting before you got her into this mess?” he asks him in a tone that only fathers would ever dare to use.

Mat thinks for a moment, trying to recall the last time he’s seen a guy pick you up for dinner besides the old man you’ve successfully bagged for the night. He firmly shakes his head no and simply says, “At least not in my recollection.”

River willfully nods, walking Mat right into the trap. “Well have you been seeing anyone lately?” he asks again, this time slipping a hint of assertion. He hears a crystal clear ‘no’ from the forward and that’s when he broke a goading grin. 

“And you’re telling me you two aren’t together?” he asks yet again, getting on Mat's nerves as he continues to flood him with biting queries, building up the final point he was about to break on Mathew.

“Rivs, for the hundredth time, no. We are not.” he clarifies. 

Mat watches River pour himself a glass of scotch, still wearing a smug grin. “Imma give you a piece of advice, yeah?” he smiles rather teasingly and doesn’t wait for Mat to rebut, “I’m a happily married man so I don’t know a single squat about dating nowadays, but if you’re telling me that you kids aren’t sleeping with anyone else but yourselves? Looks like a damn relationship to me.”

With his brows all quirked in confusion (and denial in the very least), Mathew gathers all his might just so he could refute whatever madness River was trying to inflict on him and screw him up in the head. But before he could even open his mouth, the sound of the heavy doors was all it took to tear up both River’s and Mat’s attention.

“Hi.” you say the moment you were welcomed by unsuspecting men talking by the bar. River acknowledges you by raising his drink, his gaze landing on Mat the moment yours did. 

“Hi.” Mathew mirrors you in an attempt to drown his already racing heart. A smile impending to break loose at any moment but he manages to suppress it. Instead of dealing with his adrenaline, he gestures for you to take a seat beside him. 

“Where’s the sugar daddy?” he laughs the moment you drag yourself from across the room, mocking every word he said. 

“His wife called when I got into his car.” you cringe.

“Oof. Lovely.” Mat makes the distinct expression on his face just before the two of you share a laugh.

“He’s not very smooth with adultery. He needs more practice.” you casually state sarcastically, clicking your tongue. 

As you find the narrative funny, you take a sip on Mathew’s beer. “How are you not drunk? You’ve been drinking way too much the entire night.”

“Well. I’ve got some things to think about—” he cuts himself off upon seeing your mouth ajar, “And no, you’re not allowed to ask because none of it concerns you.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” you dismiss him, excusing yourself to River which he gladly took as his cue to leave.

When he disappeared into the kitchen, you turned your gaze on your friend wearing another one of your mischievous grins, “Hey, wanna get pancakes?” 

“Y/N, it’s almost 3 AM.” Mat sighs, the tiring night starting to creep up to him. 

“So?” you question, swatting his hand away when you catch him checking on his watch. 

“Come on. Stop drinking that.” you insist and take the bottle from his hand before putting it over to the side. 

The two of you said your goodbyes to the lone bartender who was just starting to clean up again. River gives the two of you a nod of acknowledgement before landing a knowing look on Mathew. One that he’s thankful enough not to be discerned by you. 

As you walk alongside Mathew, he unconsciously places a hand on the small of your back— feeling it graze on the fabric of your coat as if to guide you towards the door in an almost romantic type of way. Perhaps, a way someone would behave if they were actually in a relationship. 

Mat notices your body tense but he doesn’t move an inch. Instead, his hand travels to the curve of your waist just as he leads you through the brass doors.

Once you’re out on the streets, he lets go.

𖥸

After almost half an hour of fighting over which diner is better to eat and get sober at, you and Mat decide to just try the new diner three blocks from your apartment. Being that it was an ungodly hour, the diner was good as closed when you got in. There were a few people inside and besides the student studying alone in the corner booth, the people lounging in the vacant seats were mostly just staff. Too bad they had to work the grave shift.

Mathew, who was rather preoccupied digging in his breakfast platter, gets interrupted when you call his attention. 

“So tell me,” you ask as you take a forkful of syrupy pancake into your mouth. Finally satisfying your cravings. You put the food modestly in the insides of your cheeks when you ask him a question, “What are you like on dates?” 

Mat disgustingly looks at you. You easily get what such a look meant and you immediately roll your eyes. You let your hand fall in mid-air amidst still holding a fork in it to prove a point. “I’m not trying to ask you out, dumbass. Don’t be so delusional.”

He puts his silverware down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Why the sudden interest?” 

“Just curious.” you simply say.

He hums, thinking about how he pulls off a first date. He then clears his throat as he takes you down that road. “First, I’m not bringing her to a 24/7 Diner.” you nearly gag. “She deserves a formal one just in case there won’t be a second date.” he explains. 

You sit there, nodding your head every now and then as he further goes on the details of how he’s like on a date. “Of course, I’d put my best foot forward all the time. Talk about her stuff more than mine and make sure she has a good time.” 

“Have you ever had a bad first date?” you curiously ask. To which he only answers with a stubborn look on his face, the one only Mat Barzal could pull off. “What? me? I don’t do bad first dates.”

“Oh, fuck off.” you flick his forehead as you laugh. The sound of his laughter echoing in your ears, drowning all the existing noise inside the lone diner.

But as the laughter dies down, Mat catches your eyes as soon as it falls on his. And just like that, there it was again, the exact same glint it had back in the bar. This time, illuminated by the pink shaded light lining up the wall accents of the diner. 

When he realizes that he’s been staring for too long, he settles on turning the tables on you. 

“How about you?” he props in his seat, “What are you like on dates?”

“You know, apart from the fact that you’re obviously into old men.” he snickers and you throw a curly fry on his forehead.

“Excuse me, I don’t.” you say sticking up for yourself.

Mat takes the curly fry that has fallen on his plate and proceeds to eat it. “Sure you do.” 

You roll your eyes, finding it hard to suppress the fact that you might actually do. “There’s a reason why women like old men, chico.”

He leans back and answers with a level headed and quite teasing reply, “And why’s that?”

“Because they’re men.” you look at him with a jerky grin as you continue, “And men, especially of River’s kind, definitely knows how to eat his french fry.”

Mat’s mouth falls wide in disbelief, appalled that you’ve actually found a way to pick up a stone and throw it straight to his face just to rub more salt on the fact that you had to teach a 23-year-old grown man how to eat cunt.

 “You’re an ass.” he says, rolling his eyes. You let out a laugh and shake your head. You were proud of yourself, sure; but showing just that is far too much for a boy’s already hurting ego. Who would have known humbling this man was such a task. 

“I’m playing! You know how to now.” you tell him, “Thanks to me, of course.”

He scoffs and takes a bite off his pancakes, “Cocky.”

“But you still haven’t answered my question.” he reminds you whilst he wipes off his lips with a napkin. 

“There’s not much to tell. You know I’m not high maintenance.” you tell him, ignoring the fact that you haven’t been on an actual date for so long you’re almost sure you’ve forgotten how to be in one. 

“I know it’s cheesy and corny but I do think it’s still in the littlest things, you know?” you sigh. Trying to remember the last relationship (date even) you had wherein those little things, the ones that are merely the bare minimum, were actually given to you. 

“You know, it’s not much, really. Maybe just a good talk without having to watch him watch me talk all night when he’s really thinking about how I’d look naked, you know what I mean?” you laugh it off, “I know, it’s stupid.”

The arrogant man sitting before you was silent for once, profusely wanting to wash the pool of melancholy he sees in your eyes. There must have been a shit ton of guys who overlooked how great of a woman you actually are just because they couldn’t stop thinking with the head in between their legs even just for a second. 

Mathew knows. And he hates that he’s been ‘that’ guy at some point. Probably until now considering him thinking with his balls on was the very thing that got the two of you here in the first place.

You take a deep breath, smiling. “Anyway, that’s better than almost getting with a married man. Right?”

“Right.” Mat laughs, his gray eyes bright under all the lights as he plays with his silverware,— devoid of how much he looked like as if he was utterly and undeniably in awe of not just the energy of the woman sitting in front of him alone nor the fact that she was by far the most unbelievable woman he’s known, but most importantly, he’s yet to realize how much in deep he’s beginning to be for the woman she actually were. 

Just as she is. 

𖥸

You left the diner a good hour before the sunrise and what must have been a quick five minute drive if you had only taken a cab, became a twenty minute foot race between you and Mathew.

You knew that walking was a bad idea but somehow, Mat’s charm and persuasive antics had a better hold than you thought you had on your very capable cognition. 

As you drag your feet into the confines of the elevator in your complex, you hear Mathew chuckling behind you with a firm hand securely placed on your waist supporting your balance. 

“You know— and not just ‘cause I’m an athlete, can I just say that you’re in a very bad shape?” he says almost a whisper in your ear, his voice low and deep.

You roll your eyes, leaning on the steel cold mirror once he pulls away, “You do it in heels then tell me who’s in a bad shape.” 

“Fair point.” he chuckles yet again, shying away. He presses the number for your floor before resting across from you. As Mat watches you catch your breath, he jokes in the hopes of breaking the ice between the two of you. 

“So…” he clicks his tongue, playful eyes looking at you, “Wanna tap?”

Disgusted to your very core, you let out a scoff just as you shake your head. “You’re fucking sick.” you laugh upon meeting his dumb grinning face. Seconds into laughter, Mat’s silence kills off the humor. The two of you exchange glances, the smiles on your faces receding into quietude. 

Mathew didn’t want to end the night letting you in the apartment not knowing what he’s been feeling the moment you’ve let him drag you out for an impromptu night out. And stupid as it was, the only thing he could think of was to slide his foot across the enclosed space embracing the two of you, nudging on your boot. You on the one hand were rather puzzled as to what caused such language. You send him a mental query by arching a brow. He lets his head fall back on the cold metal surrounding the elevator finally deciding to speak his truth.

 “I’m glad we get to hang out now. You know, just like friends do.” he genuinely says. 

“Me too.” you say, smiling. “I really had fun tonight. Thank you.”

As you meet his eyes, you see a glimmer of softness in his gaze. 

“Good thing I got bored, eh?” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I came back for you.” you reply.

A quiet smile parts from his lips.

“Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

It was a few seconds when you and Barzy parted from your respective walls to meet the sliding doors as it opened on your designated floor. You were pulling him closer by the tie of his coat whilst his hand was instinctively placed on your hips letting him press his body on you. Your faces were inches from each other’s, evident of not wanting to prolong the totally unplanned foreplay that’s about to go down in a communal lift. 

But just like every film you’ve watched your whole life, the inevitable cliché befalls the two of you when the next words that filled the enclosed walls you’re currently caged in came from the man who has yet to miss a morning jog. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

[party-gilmore]

For bonus angst (and I'll probably do a full ficlet on this later but for now just to get this out) when it comes to Eliot's lingering Moreau Issues, particularly how I read him as a bit of a Service Sub and how Moreau taking advantage of that may have led to some subconscious associations with sex and professional obligations that Eliot objectively KNOWS isn't right but when he's a little tipsy maybe he kind of forgets all the conscious unlearning he's had to do and I'm dropping the rest under the cut for severe second hand embarrassment and the reveal of past!dubcon and mind fuckery

For bonus angst I like to imagine immediately post!San Lorenzo, during the Team's celebrations (because I refuse to believe they didn't ALL go out for a drink afterwards at a cute little island themed bar before Nate and Sophie split off) a rather drunk Eliot pulls Nate aside and like.

Propositions him. Pulls him away into a little corner and just says "hey... Nate, man, you... you could fuck me, if you wanted."

Nate is fucking confused as hell because he got absolutely zero read of any kind of underlying sexual interest or tension from Eliot towards him over the past three years, and is trying to figure out how to let the kid down easy that for as much mutual respect they share, that's not... he doesn't... they're never going to-

Then the confusion quickly turns to horror and white hot rage after he presses Eliot a little further and the man stammers out his reasoning.

"You... you took out Moreau. You're my... my new... an' you're better than him, Nate. A good man. I shouldn't... shouldn't be givin' you any less than what I gave to him, Nate. It... it ain't right."

And to be honest Nate has no fucking idea what to say, like. How do you even respond to a guy you've kinda started developing this sort of pseudo father-son relationship with-

(because out of ALL the Team's individual relationship with Nate, he and Eliot are the two that I read as most quickly and naturally falling into that "emotionally stunted father and their grown son" sort of vibe, where there's still the familial sort of annoyances and Nate in the position of authority, but also the mutual respect of recognizing each other as adults on an equal playing field)

-telling you that he feels like he has to be willing to provide sex as part of his job? That he feels like he's not already committing enough of himself as he gets battered and beaten to protect you and the rest of the team? That he would offer his body up even to someone he has no attraction to - would even feel outright uncomfortable fucking - just because of some lingering mindfuckery from giving so much of himself over to a Bad Man when he hasn't offered even half of that to the new Good Man.

His heart aches as he sort of brushes the whole conversation off, not really sure how or able to handle it with as far in his own cups as he is, and walks Eliot back to the group. He hints to the bartender it's time to start serving water and sobering folks up. It's never brought up again while Eliot's sober, Nate isn't even sure if the other man remembers it (he does, and was so fucking embarrassed he was actually glad for the weeks they were supposed to be taking off so he could psych himself up enough to even make eye contact with the closest thing he's had to a father in a long time again), but it still tumbles over and over in Nate's brain and he sort of wishes he'd done more to hurt Moreau.

After the Last Dam Job, maybe he snags Quinn on his way out the batcave and offers him a side job.

BONUS:

There's also a version of this where instead of pulling Nate aside, a little embarrassed and uncomfortable but doing what he thinks is "fair," he just offers himself up to the whole team.

They're all sitting around drinking and it's a more light hearted atmosphere, so Eliot actually feels a little more light hearted himself as he offers - just blurts it out, still similar in phrasing to the Nate version, but a little less in his own head about it. Just.

"Hey. Y'all know, like... y'could fuck me, f'you wanted."

And there's a sudden stop to all the overlapping conversations as they all process hey what the fuck was that? and Sophie gives a little nervous laugh like, "what on earth are you on about, Eliot?"

And he just shrugs like he isn't about to say THEE most heartbreaking thing they've heard in the history of their association with him like.

"S'what I gave Moreau. And every one of you's a damn better man than he ever was. Y'don't deserve any less of me than what he asked for. So. Yeah. F'you want it, it's yours."

In this version, the conversation is NOT just brushed off, there's a big passionate argument (albeit heavily slurred) about Eliot's self-worth and where this is coming from, and suddenly a lot of drunk angry people are demanding to be let down into the prisons.

[roanniom]

Hey Issa, my sweet honey bun! I don’t send many requests to people, so bear with me. I’ll forever wait for the day you write Kylo, but until then I’ll throw this one at you for Charlie. I had a wander through the prompt list, and I kinda liked “I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.” with Charlie being all protective of reader, unsure if she reciprocates his feelings. And because I’m a garbage can of filth, I also loved “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.” if you wanted to move into smut. I hope this gets the creative juices flowing? Take your time, no pressure ever! 💕💕💕

@paper-n-ashes as you know I have been holding onto this and chipping away at it steadily for FOREVER so I can get it just right for you, so I hope you enjoy it, my love <3

Push

Charlie Barber x Reader

Word Count: 6,862

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, PIV sex / unprotected sex, light light light choking (not even really), mention of infidelity (just canon from Marriage Story plot), a lil post-divorce angst/lack of confidence

The above photo is Charlie Barber, 1-year post divorce. He’s been working out as a form of anger management and because Henry, over many late night phone conversations, has shared his new love of hiking, a pastime he’s picked up since living in LA. Charlie plans to take Henry hiking on the Appalachian trail next summer break and wants to be on tip top shape to keep up with his enthusiastic son.

He’s been to therapy. Learning more about what went wrong in his marriage, but more specifically learning about how he can become a better person in the aftermath. How infidelity and self-interest were born of a deep-seated need for a love that he was not receiving. A love that was no closer to him prior to his indiscretions but all the same rendered unreachable as a result. He’s given himself time to grieve the man he’d thought himself to be. Because that is what had died with his marriage - not Charlie Barber himself. But the Charlie Barber he’d built in his mind. A man limited by support that came with conditions, love that came with caveats. That Charlie was a father and a husband. He was often suppressed, wound tight, on edge.

This Charlie is a father and a man. He is free to celebrate his own success without fear of wounding nearby egos. He’s limited only by what he feels he deserves. And granted sometimes those self-imposed limitations can really hold him down, as they did when he vowed not to jump into any further entanglements - affairs or otherwise - in the time immediately following his divorce. But that limitation was ultimately beneficial. It gave him space to be alone - with himself, for himself. He was able to finally see his own flaws with his own eyes instead of having them recited back to him by another, as if through a crude, second hand reflection. And in seeing these flaws, he also saw the virtues. Charlie was actually starting to like himself again.

And this is when he meets you.

You storm into his life with an energy he doesn’t recognize, introduced at a party by a friend of a friend, filling his senses with your too-loud-laughter and too-bright-eyes. In many ways that’s how he sees you: too much. Your enthusiasm makes you appear too young, though in truth you’re not that much younger than him. Your smile makes you appear too beautiful, though in truth there are often much more conventionally attractive women in the room at any given time.

“Charlie. Charlie Barber,” Charlie mutters as he shakes your hand. Its warm in his larger one and he’s suddenly a little self-conscious of the fact that he’d been holding his sweating scotch on the rocks just moments before the contact.

“Hello Charlie-Charlie Barber,” you reply with a massive grin, shaking his hand back vigorously and with seemingly no reaction to its clamminess. “The famous director, I assume?”

Charlie clocks the quirk of your eyebrow. A tease. A social cue he’s not used to. Not these days. He looks down at his worn tennis shoes, all too aware all at once of the way they dress down his sweater and jeans. He feels rumpled next to you and he’s not sure he likes it. You’re too put together.

You’re too honest, too fearless, too open to new things. Though Charlie’s beginning to grow, your presence reminds him of how stunted he’d been in his marriage. How the same old restaurants, the same old clothes, the same old glass of the same old scotch had become items of comfort for him, talismans of a previous life that he clung to for some semblance of familiarity. Around you, however, those same old things looks dull and uninspired. Quite the opposite of you.

You are the one to ask him out, though he’s not even really aware that it’s a date at all when he arrives. That’s how much he doesn’t see you coming. His affair had been one of convenience. An opportunity to blow off excess steam, and a pretty disappointing one at that, with neither party really find what they were chasing. His marriage had grown cold long before it had ended. All of this to say that Charlie wasn’t very familiar with warmth. With interest that occurred in the light of day, and attention that was given without anything sought in return.

You’re halfway through lunch before you realize that he doesn’t understand your intentions. So you explain them to him. Clear and empty of any pretense. You are attracted to him and interested in getting to know him further. It’s simple, really. He’s shocked by your openness and the absence of any games. In another life he’d once assumed that a relationship without strife, without agony, without strategic tug of war would be one without passion. However, as he soon learns while taking you out on the second date, that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Over dinner this time he finds himself getting lost in your micro-expressions. Finds his eyes lingering on the animated way you gesture, finds his words getting twisted in his tongue as your gaze weighs on him, expectant and waiting for a response to some question. His bodily responses to your attention are no less potent in the absence of angst. In fact, he is surprised to find that his yearning practically triples when you part ways and he realizes not once had he been made to feel like he had to prove something, or fight, or challenge.

He learns over time that you challenge him in other ways. Challenge him when it comes to picking restaurants outside his comfort zone. Challenge him by dragging him, mid-lunch date, on a shopping trip with you, a trip where you gently help him to finally replace the worn out tennis shoes to which he’d been clinging. Challenge him by laughing with him, not at him, even when the subject of the humor is himself. Your laughter is lighter, more carefree, than he is used to. Then again, he’s not used to being around someone like you.

He kisses you after the third date – the lunch-turned-shopping trip. It’s quick and it’s light, on the curb before an intersection on the East Side, right before you both are about to walk in separate directions. You say nothing when he pulls away. Just smile and turn on your heel, already headed to your next destination. It drives Charlie crazy over the next few days. Not because he assumes you have some hidden agenda. On the contrary, he’s horrified that your interior thoughts match your exterior actions. You have been nothing but honest with him. It is Charlie who has been oscillating wildly in his mind. Between thoughts of how much it might hurt if you turn out to be too good to be true and thoughts of how much he’d love to feel your body on his. To explore the mouth you use so effortlessly to tease him, to compliment him, to charm him. You speak kindness like pleasantries, as if affirmations and praise were as easy to dole out as a cheery “good morning” on a stress-free Saturday. Charlie wants to know what you’re like on a Saturday. Away from the bustle of the city. Away from the common friends and the crowded shops and restaurants that have buffered all of your encounters.

But Charlie’s still afraid.

On your fourth date Charlie is more reserved when you arrive at the restaurant. You break the ice by pointing out that the formality of your dates is beginning to feel silly.

“Maybe it’s the fact that the tables have tablecloths,” you joke, swirling your pasta around a fork. “Or maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never repeatedly had meals with someone I wasn’t already in a relationship with.”

Charlie prickles at the implication, taking a labored swallow of ice water. He doesn’t want to comment on the relationship part of your sentiment so he chooses something more neutral.

“Should I remind you that two of these meals have been at your suggestion and you did, in fact, also plan them as meals.” He relaxes a bit when you laugh heartily at that, relieved that the conversation doesn’t get any more dicey.

“Touché,” you reply. Then you lean forward and whisper conspiratorially at him across the small table. He feels himself lean in, curious but also looking for a chance to just get closer in proximity. He wishes he’d had the courage to sit next to you rather than across from you when he’d first sat down. “Feeling adventurous enough to let me pick where we go after this tonight?”

And Charlie feels adventurous. Adventurous as he lets you whisk him across town and to your favorite arcade bar. Adventurous as he passes you a large handful of quarters he got from the little machine at the front, only to grasp your fist in his when he miscalculates how much of his handful you’d be capable of taking, narrowly avoiding a massive spill of loose change on the floor. Adventurous as he orders a couple of beers and lets you show him your favorite game, Burger Time – a silly little maze game where you collect burger ingredients. Adventurous as he shows you his favorite game, which is pretty much any pinball machine known to man.

“Yours looks cooler than mine,” you huff, walking over to the pinball machine he’s playing once you abandon the one that was definitely broken. Or at least that’s how you justify so many consecutive, immediate losses. Charlie laughs and pulls back the plunger but doesn’t release, effectively pausing his game.

“You wanna try it?” Charlie ushers you in front of him and puts your hand on the plunger beneath his, careful not to release it in the process. “The key is anticipating where the ball will go. It’s all about patterns after a while.”

“Then why does it seem so random?” you ask, looking up at him over your shoulder.

“You just haven’t played enough yet. Over time you can predict what will happen if the ball hits a certain corner. Where it will go if it ricochets juuust right at the last second.”

“Sounds fake but I’ll let you prove it to me,” you say with a laugh, focusing your attention back on the machine.

“We’ll let go in one…two…three.” When you feel the pressure of his hand let up you let go as well, letting him guide both your hands immediately to the buttons on the side of the machine.

For as great as his theory of pinball predictability is, he probably underestimates your ability to suck. Because you do, hard. But you laugh the whole way through, and you never quit. Never turn to him in frustration asking to do something else or even to leave. Instead you keep feeding quarters into the machine and bringing your hands back under Charlie’s on the machine. And no matter how shitty you are, you always at least try to focus.

Charlie, meanwhile, is having a very hard time focusing on anything that isn’t your body. His hips bracket your ass in this helpful position he’s adopted, and he feels your pressure against his pelvis with every enthusiastic wriggle and little jump of frustration that you take in response to the game. When he makes the unfortunate mistake to look down over your shoulder at one point he’s met with a direct view of your cleavage, exposed as it is in your low-cut blouse. Charlie begins to sweat and it has nothing to do with how packed the arcade is or with the exertion of gaming. When he remembers that the arcade is also a bar, he excuses himself to get more beer, hoping that one will cool him off and cool him down.

You dazzle him with a smile thrown over your shoulder when he approaches with the two fresh bottles, and he’s not prepared for how the sight of your face almost knocks him back on his ass.

“Charlie! I did better this time!” He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, handing you your beer which you sip gratefully.

“I lasted a few more minutes than last time,” you elaborate proudly. “So I’d say that means I now qualify as a pinball wizard.”

“Move over Elton John,” Charlie says with a smirk. You slap him in the shoulder and immediately engage him in a spirited discussion of whether the Elton John movie version of “Pinball Wizard” was better than The Who’s version from the original album. However, after a few minutes Charlie realizes he’s lost in thought. Lost in your voice. Lost in your expressions. Lost in you.

When it finally comes time to leave the arcade, the night drawing much later than it had on your previous nighttime date, Charlie’s scared he’ll be lost without you. The two of you walk together for a couple of blocks before you reach that similar intersection. The place where you part ways.

“I think we really turned around that formality thing, don’t you?” you ask him, turning to Charlie and leaning back against the column of a pedestrian sign. Charlie moves into your space, swallowing his hesitation.

“I don’t know, I began to feel a little unworthy when you ascended past the role of pinball wizard.”

“Oh did I get a promotion?” You ask, tipping your head back so you can look up at him as he steps closer.

“The word wizard conjures up images of wizened old man,” Charlie says dismissively, as if that clears up everything.

“So if you’re saying I don’t remind you of a wrinkled old Merlin – to which might I say, shocker – then what exactly is my new title.”

“One that fits you inside and out.” Charlie braces a hand against the column above your head, his other in his pocket. His head dips down so that it’s closer to your face despite your height difference. You feel warm despite the slight chill in the air.

“And that would be Pinball….?” you prompt.

“Goddess,” he completes the title before pressing his lips to yours. His hands remain on the column and in his pocket until you reach forward and grab a fistful of his sweater, pulling him to you. Then his hands are at your waist, pushing you back into the column. His tongue is in your mouth and your hands are in his hair and he can’t breathe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to suffocate, wants to asphyxiate on you and the way he feels so tethered to this moment, this intersection, this place where you cannot part ways.

When you break apart to, in fact, breathe, your chest heaves and your smile is radiant.

“As far as kisses goodnight go, I’d say that was top tier,” you say on a laugh. Suddenly Charlie’s throat is constricting and he has to fight his facial muscles to keep from frowning as his hands tighten on your waist.

“That wasn’t a kiss goodnight. Not yet.”

“Any longer and it’ll be a kiss good morning, sir. Have you seen the time?” Your tone is joking. You call people ‘sir’ all the time. It’s a weird quirk of yours, like calling someone dude or pal. But Charlie can feel himself choking on the word, as well as the implications of a ‘kiss good morning.’ All of a sudden he feels like if he could have only one more thing before dying, that’s what he’d ask for. But then he kicks himself internally for being so fucking dramatic and he fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Exactly. It’s late.

You survey him from under your eyelashes with a small smile.

“I’ve made this walk many times.”

“It’s dark.”

“I’ve made this walk in the dark many times.”

“I’ll feel better if you let me walk you home.”

Charlie’s heart clenches. Before he can overthink, you’ve ducked out of his hold, grasped his hand and started pulling him down the street.

“C’mon Charlie, hurry up. You’d keep a goddess waiting?” you toss back at him over your shoulder. But in truth it was taking all of Charlie’s self control and the fact that he didn’t know the way to your place to keep him from throwing you over his shoulder and breaking into a full sprint.

~*~

Your place is exactly like you. Eclectic, warm, inviting. There is a moment, as you pull off your coat and turn away to place it and Charlie’s on a coat rack, when Charlie feels much too big for the space. Like he’s some kind of giant invading the home of a sweet little wood nymph. But then his little wood nymph is grabbing him by the front of the shirt and dragging him to a bedroom and the worries fade right out the window.  

At first Charlie is gentle with you. His hands ghost over your body as you kiss him beside your bed. When you push him to sit down on the edge of the mattress and step between his open legs to kiss him with a different height dynamic his heart just about jumps clear out of his chest. He hasn’t done this – hasn’t touched or been touched – in so long. The affair had been transactional, just the mechanical motions of sexual gratification. Sex with Nicole, before it stopped, had been even colder, almost as if she had been begrudgingly completing some unwelcome chore.

You, however, are like fire beneath Charlie’s fingers. Your skin, your lips – everything is so warm it feels like you’re too hot to touch. But Charlie would rather risk burning up than to not become accustomed to the feel, the shape, the substance of you. He smooths over your body with a reverential softness, his muscles tense with restraint so as to keep from accidentally pushing you too far too fast. To keep from handling the way that, deep down, he desperately needs.

When your lips suddenly leave his, his brow furrows in frustrations. Before he can open his eyes a soothing finger smooths the furrow away, sliding down the bridge of his nose to press against his kiss-swollen lips. Charlie opens his eyes with a question present in them and you cock your head to the side.

“You’re tense. Like you’re holding back.” The statement isn’t accusatory but it isn’t a question. Charlie takes a shaky breath, unsure about how much he should say. Would his desperation read as too dramatic? Too undesirable? Would his enthusiasm come across as pushy or dominating? His brow must furrow again because your hand moves back up, finger pressing out the wrinkles. He shrugs.

“It’s been…a while for me. I didn’t want to come across as too…much.”

You laugh then and yet again Charlie is struck by how strange it is that you can laugh in his face directly in response to something he’s said without making him feel like you are laughing at him.

“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me, Charlie.”

“You’re sure about that?” Charlie huffs out with a little chuckle. You give him a smirk and say your next words up against his lips.

“Try me.”

You probably were expecting him to require more cajoling. You probably were expecting him to gradually ease into something more. But Charlie takes you by surprise, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed with him, rolling so that you’re laid out beneath his body, all the while maintaining hungry possession of your mouth. His body finds its place between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of how huge he is. How hard and insistent against your softness. He drinks from you like a man whose thirst can not be quenched. His hands find purchase on your waist and he squeezes. So hard you’re sure you’ll bruise. You smile against his mouth with the realization that you look forward to watching them bloom later.

Since Charlie seems too preoccupied with groping and making out with you, it is you who eventually takes the next step, beginning to pop open the buttons on your blouse one by one. When Charlie feels the motion of your hands between your bodies he ultimately pulls back to investigate, mouth dropping open at the slow reveal of the lingerie you’re wearing beneath. His hand shoots out to caress the delicate lace of your bra, teasingly not applying any pressure to the breast beneath.

“Do you wear things like this often?” Charlie’s voice is already rough as he asks this. You shrug.

“Whenever I want to feel sexy.”

“You wanted to feel sexy while out with me?” Charlie asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“You made me feel sexier than the lace, Mr. Barber,” you say with a smile before leaning up to capture his lower lip between your teeth. He groans and moves to practically swallow you whole. You’re entirely foreign to him. Enthusiasm, amusement, and enjoyment bundled up into one devastatingly sexy package. There’s no shame in your movements, no angst in your eyes. Just humor. Only an unabashed pursuit of pleasure. And if it’s pleasure you want, it’s pleasure you’ll get.

Charlie now aids you in the process of removing the rest of your garments, so it goes much quicker. When you move to pull off your bra, however, he catches your wrist in his massive hand.

“No…can these stay on?” Your eyebrows shoot up but you notice the way that Charlie is gazing at you with eyes slightly hazy and tongue running over his lips.

“This doing it for you, Charlie?” you tease, shimmying a bit. Charlie’s answer is sincere regardless as he dips his head down to sample the plush skin at the line of your cleavage.

“You have no idea.”

“So you’re a lingerie man, huh?” When you ask he stops to think for a second because, truly, he had never considered himself that way before. He’d never had any reason to. Sure lingerie models in magazines were hot, but it’s not a specific fantasy he’d ever explored previously.

But the sight of you here, strategically covered in lace and laid out beneath him pretty as a picture has him so hard he feels like a teenager unable to control himself. So, as you had urged him, he doesn’t.

“I might be. But really, I’m just enamored by these tits.” His teeth sink into your flesh and you sigh, especially when his tongue comes out to lave warmly at the spot. He moves down your body then, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your stomach, sliding until your inner thighs rest against the sides of his face and his hands dip below you to squeeze your ass. “Although I feel like this might end up being my favorite part.” He says this last part directly into your clothed cunt, his lips just barely ghosting over the fabric with his words.

You wiggle a bit in his grasp, loving the answering way his fingers dig into your soft flesh. Your fingers card into his lush hair, tugging lightly at the roots, a feeling that shoots through his body and straight to his rock hard member. The way he discretely ruts against the mattress in response does not go unnoticed by you, so you drop a hand under his chin to tip his face back up to look at you.

“Will you fuck me, Charlie?” Your voice is clear and bright. Not playing coy and requiring any convincing. Just asking for something you want. And the hunger in your eyes seems unmistakable, though it still feels to good to be true. Charlie drops his gaze back down to the wet spot forming in your panties before looking back up and practically pouting.

“I’d like to taste you,” he counters. A brilliant smile breaks out across your face at the sound of that but you shake your head.

“There’ll be time for that later,” you argue, tugging on his shoulder to get him back on top of you. “If you don’t get inside me right now I’ll die.”

Charlie almost misses that last part because he’s still stuck on the first part. There’ll be time for that later. The possibility of later squeezes at Charlie’s hard and it’s only after a few echoing seconds that he’s able to process the rest of your statement with a delayed, choking laugh.

“Is someone getting dramatic on me?”

“Not yet, but I will if - ”

“If I don’t get inside you?” Charlie completes the statement in the exact moment a hand drops between your thighs and presses against the soaked fabric covering your slit. You inhale sharply.

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who was pushy in bed,” Charlie says good naturedly, swiping his fingers up the line of you to end with a swirl over where he assumed – correctly – your clit was. You tilt your pelvis to maximize his pressure before surging up to kiss him long and hard.

“I’m actually not. Not really,” you say breathlessly when you finally pull away and drop back down onto the pillows. You stretch luxuriously, almost like a kitten in the sun under his piercing gaze, the movement of your hips bumping his hand to rub you even better. Running your hands up and down the big, strong arms that cage you in and support him, you kiss his shoulder. “I’ve been hoping you would be.”

Suddenly your wrists are being pinned down above your head by one of Charlie’s hands. He’s got your legs open wide with his body sinking against you, hard and heavy.

“Pushy? You want me to be pushy?”

You grin big and wide at him.

“Yeah. Take charge like I know you want – oh!” You’re cut off by the welcome sensation of stimulation as Charlie’s hand drops inside your panties to slide around in your waiting slick. Without the barrier of the fabric between you, the feeling of your velvety slipperiness is enough to make him loose a growl.

He’s not hesitating and he’s not teasing anymore. Charlie has been waiting for this moment. He’s been waiting to care. Been waiting to feel. And what’s heightening the experience even more is the look on your face, the way your lips are parted and the way you gaze up at him longingly, expectantly. Providing all the evidence he needs to prove that you want this too. He wants you and you want him – what a novel idea. There are no angles or obligations, but also no shame or secrecy.

“Well if you wanted me to take charge you should have said so earlier,” he says, the corner of his lip quirking a bit as he dips two fingers inside your soaking cunt, not bothering to start with one. You gasp at the sudden intrusion. The stretch is a lot, but it is everything. Charlie sees the enjoyment register on your face, discomfort melting away almost immediately, and he begins to pull them slowly in and out to massage your walls.

“Maybe – ahh – maybe I should have,” you reply.

“Should I have caused a scene in the arcade?”

“Yes – fuck!” During an inward thrust Charlie curls his fingers up this time, rubbing against that spot in your upper wall that previous guys barely even knew was there. Before you know it he’s adding a third finger and you’re beside yourself. Charlie is elated to see how easily your body responds to his ministrations, how free you are with your reactions. He leans to down to suck a mark over your collar bone while his thumb meets your clit in tandem with his other thrusting fingers.

“You knew what you were doing when you kept rubbing that pretty little ass back into me while I taught you pinball.” His words rumbling against the skin of your throat.

“You made it so easy.”

“And you made it so hard,” Charlie counters, humor very present in his voice. You gasp out a laugh and try to tug your wrists from his grasp, but he doesn’t let you. Just keeps you pinned down as he continues to finger fuck you nice and slow.

“So impatient. I should have known. You’ve been impatient all night, haven’t you?” You whine out affirmations and screw your eyes shut as the pressure starts to build to a crescendo. Charlie picks up speed, his voice growing deeper as he continues. “Wanted me to fuck you on the pinball machine in front of everyone, didn’t you?”

You gasp and toss your head back against the pillows at that, hips bucking involuntarily. Charlie’s nose glides along the perimeter of your jaw, breathing in the scent of you as you fall apart. He’s never felt so powerful as he does with the feeling of your muscles tensing up under his fingertips. Never had the inspiration or audience for such language, but as you shiver and respond to his words, a surge of pride fills him and all he wants to do is dangle you over the edge over and over again.

“Charlie…” His name is a whimper when it falls from your lips. You’re so close. He feels it. So he pushes his fingers deep inside you, curling up with the motion, just as he sweeps one, two, three final circles into the throbbing bud of your clit.

You crest and you break against the tide of your orgasm, plummeting down from such heights you didn’t know you could reach from simple fingering. But there’s nothing simple about Charlie, the man who had been broken and put back together, only to find you, the universe’s overly generous reward for his perseverance.

Charlie’s slightly (unfocused) eyes focus on your heaving chest as you finally descend from the orgasm, but you’re the one to break the spell. Impatient is the perfect way to describe you as you wrap your legs around his middle and hook your ankles to trap him against you. You lunge up to arrest his mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, but just enough to distract him so that you can pull your wrists from his grasp. Once free you push him gently to the side so that you’re both rolling over, mouths still attached. He comes to rest on his back with you straddling him.

Charlie blinks up at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce in their bra cups as you busy yourself with the task of removing his clothes. He hadn’t even realized he was still in them until you began unbuttoning and pulling and pushing. Your impatience is clear once again in the way you divest him of the frustratingly excessive material and he finally gets the memo that he should help you.

With his pants and underwear pulled off and discarded, as well as the button up shirt that you had come to love as his signature look, you rest your palms flat on the plane of his chest. You’re still in your lingerie, as he had requested, only it is now beautiful askew. Your breasts now strain out of the cups, having been jostled into almost spilling out with your change of position. Your panties are sopping wet and stretched from his vigorous fingering and the evidence of your orgasm.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But you become even more beautiful when you wrap your hand around his aching cock, lifting up on your knees as you do so. Your fists slides up and down, up and down and he watches it, mesmerized, until you lean forward to catch his eye.

“What should I do, Charlie?”

Your face is soft and open. You’re asking for him to continue taking the lead. And Charlie realizes right then and there that he will never want to disappoint you. Snapping out his daze he lets his fingers dig into your flesh where his hands curl around your hips.

“Sit down on my cock, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The term of endearment is so sugary. He’s called his son that, but never a lover, casual or otherwise, and never during the first time. Your face, however, lights up and you do as you’re told, sinking down onto his long, hard length. The impact draws a moan from both of your throats followed by gasped phrases spoken over one another.

“You’re so big!”

“You’re so tight!”

You both laugh at the overlap but laughter turns to groans as you roll your hips experimentally. After a few moments of this, it appears that Charlie becomes the impatient one finally.

“Ride me,” he spits through gritted teeth. Your nails imprint half moons in his skin as you clench at his tone, not quite hearing the words. Charlie sucks air through his teeth at the squeeze.

“What?”

“Ride me. I need you to fucking ride me.” You can tell that he’s trying to remain cool and collected, but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

So you do as he says. You lift up and drop down, feeling the length of his cock slide through your sheath with a speed that you set, establishing a rhythm that has your toes curling. You let out a particularly shameless moan and Charlie opens his eyes. They widen immediately upon seeing that you’re clutching and squeezing at your own breast with one hand while grabbing onto his hip to stabilize you with the other. The sight alone of your face, screwed up in pleasure, flips a switch in Charlie and suddenly he is thrusting up into you without mercy.

“Charlie!” you cry out, both from surprise at the increased jostling and from how tremendously good it feels.

“I should have fucked you in the arcade. I would have if I had known how good you feel.”

“I – oh fuckfuck – knew,” you barely get out. Charlie hoists you back so that he’s sitting up with his back against the headrest now. The position gives him more leverage and power so he can lift you up and down his cock, bouncing you now with a rhythm that vibrates through your entire being.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Charlie asks, engulfing one of your breasts in his huge hand. The added sensation is perfect, but not quite enough. You wonder if you can coax more.

“I knew you would feel good.” You reach down to the base of his cock, encircling it as much as possible with it’s girth, and fisting upward just as he pulls you up, therefore maximizing the squeeze on his length. Charlie inhales abruptly and drops you back down.

“Little Miss Know-it-all, are you?” His voice is harsh and it sends a thrill throughout your body. Before you can respond, you’re pushed and yanked around, losing your grip with the motion.

“What - ?” Charlie’s hand on your throat quiets you. Not because he’s truly squeezing, but because the solid warmth of his hand causes you to squeak your way to silence. His adjustments now find you pulled up to the edge of the bed, legs spread and pushed back, with Charlie standing between them. Bent over, he grounds himself with one hand on your throat and one on your hip, positioning his tip back at the entrance to your weeping cunt. You expect him to slam his hips forward, to impale you with his cock, but he pauses with the swollen head just inside your folds.

“This okay?”

This power and control, the way he is manipulating your body for your pleasure and his own – he loves it. It’s so new and yet something he now wonders how he ever did without. But he also feels the need to check in and make sure that you’re still with him. The nod you give, the sparkle in your eye, and the quirk of your lips is all it takes to convince him and then he is plowing forward, slamming himself back in again and again. You let out a full throated moan and Charlie revels in the way your eyes roll all the way back.

He wonders what else will make you do that. What else will make your eyes roll back and your toes curl and your teeth sink into your bottom lip? He wonders, as his hand presses softly into the contours of your throat, what it would feel like to squeeze a little harder, and if the pressure would make you even more desperate for him. He wonders if you like a little pain with your pleasure, as he has long suspected he might enjoy, though has never truly had the chance to confirm.

But there will be time for that.

So now, he does his best to focus in on the sounds you release. Sounds of delight and surprise and sensual thrill. He coaxes you to your second climax and you don’t fight it. You don’t demure or wait for him or hesitate. Instead you unapologetically allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure he’s built for you, seizing and quaking beneath him without shame.

The sight and feeling are so beautiful he can’t help but follow soon after, pulling out and allowing releasing all over the bra and panties you had so generously left on for him. The sight of his seed landing on the delicate lace, as you lay beneath him fucked out and smiling, causes another tremor to rock through him, and he finds that he’s still cumming long after he usually would have finished.

Charlie finds himself in a daze in the immediate aftermath of his release. He looks around for something to clean you with, and when you notice you point out a box of tissues on the desk. After he’s done his best to wipe you up, you give him a kiss on the cheek. The mundane intimacy of the act makes him blush all the way to the hidden tips of his ears. It is absurd because you had just had sex, however the press of your lips to his skin seemed to seal the deal. This was not transactional. It was something more, Charlie can’t help but think to himself as you get up from the bed and skip to the bathroom.

In your absence Charlie again registers the smallness of your room. How large – out of place, maybe – he is amongst your delicate things. He pulls on his underwear and sits back down on the mattress, unsure.

Unsure about your expectations. Unsure about whether or not you’d want him to leave. Or stay.

Before he can make a decision in either direction you are bounding back into the room, a smile on your face. Your face is freshly washed and you’re in a faded, oversized tank top, having divested yourself of your abused lingerie. Charlie swallows at the sight of your breasts, free and outlined beneath the soft fabric. He adjusts his hands in his lap. No need to let you see him getting worked up again so soon like some horny teenager. You don’t seem to notice, instead slipping easily into bed beside him, shimmying under the covers and patting the space beside you so that he does the same.

So stay he will.

Once you’re both comfortable and situated, you slide into his arms, drawing them around your body without a question or seemingly a second though. Much like the way you’d slid into his life, Charlie thinks ruefully, nuzzling his face into the top of your head as you tuck in beneath his chin.

“Charlie?”

“Hm?”

“I know you always go to that diner on 15th for breakfast,” you begin, and Charlie’s heart spasms. Both at the thought of breakfast with you and the fact that you so casually know details about him. About his likes and his habits. He pulls you in a little tighter and nods his head.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I show you a new place in the morning? I think you’ll really like it.”

And Charlie laughs. Because of course you’d want to push him out of his comfort zone. It’s what you do – push him to try new things. Push him to do things he wouldn’t usually consider. Push him to be the man he’d been working so hard for the past year to be.

“Yes, but I’m not changing the way I order my eggs,” he grumbles with humor, kissing the crown of your head. “Not yet.”

~*~

The next morning you order first, and you’ve never had breakfast with Charlie before, so when he asks for the same dish, you can’t possibly know that this is his first time ordering eggs Florentine.

As you both laugh and eat and sip coffee in the outdoor seating area of the quaint café you’d picked, fingers intertwined between you on the wrought iron table, you also can’t know that this is the happiest Charlie has felt in ages.

But he makes it his mission, right there and then, to do everything in his power to make you feel the same.

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @celestiasin @tlcwrites @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @edencherries @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @soggywhore @transparentmeoo @leia-suns @alpha-lobito

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 57 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSIONS/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

MC wakes up to Belphie and Satan planning on kidnapping them, deciding to wake them up and then arguing about which small prank they should play to wake them up (satan suggests holding their nose till they wake up and Belphie says they’d have to be careful with that method cause it could kill a human). MC decides it’d be best nor to let them go ahead with anyone of this and wakes up screaming to scare them both. They complain about being reverse pranked and say that breakfast is ready. Belphie also gives them the star of diligence for all that happened last lesson. Belphie asks if once MC becomes an actual sorcerer if Solomon will teach them higher level magic. Satan say it’d be a great boost to the anti-lucifer league. Belphie wonders what the final exam would be (and I just realised these two exams will be the final exam holy shit) and satan asks MC if they’re confident, they say ‘after all the BS I’ve been through? FUCK YEAH!’ Satan says it’s good to be motivated but to stay focused, Belphie says past experience shows that MC can stand to lose a little focus and still be okay. There’s a commotion and they realise that it’s probably Beel rampaging cause he got too hungry.

Asmo scolds Beel for his rampage, Beel apologizes and Asmo tells him not to apologize through a mouthful of food cause it seems less sincere. Asmo asks if he even regrets it and Beel ignores him to go reheat the meat pies which pisses asmo off more. Belphie tells him to drop it and that it was partly their fault for taking so long to come back. Asmo then scolds Belphie for being too soft with Beel. Lucifer asks about MC’s star and congratulates them. MC thanks him and questions him being so happy about them nearly being done. He says them becoming a proper sorcerer is important for all the brothers and that personally Lucifer wants them to become more powerful than Solomon so that they can finally shut him up and make him stop pestering Lucifer for a pact. Belphie questions Lucifer more about Solomon and Lucifer complains, also saying that there are plenty of demons willing to forge a pact with him but Asmo says Solomon’s very particular about who he makes pacts with. Asmo says word for word, “It may not seem like it, but he’s got a very cold-blooded side to him. He probably picks his targets purely based on whether they’ll be of use to him.” (I just think it’s really interesting that asmo calls them ‘targets’ though the character relationship diagram did say that Solomon considers others his playthings). Asmo uses Mammon as an example of a demon Solomon wouldn’t want to forge a pact with but Mammon doesn’t respond instant he’s silent and distracted/worried. Asmo pokes at Mammon again asking if he agrees. Mammon distractedly agrees. Asmo’s smile instantly falls, shocked and upset that Mammon isn’t biting back and arguing or saying something mean in return (why is this my brother & I???). Satan says that Levi will also be useless to Solomon. Levi responds the same way as Mammon did which freaks out both Satan and Belphie. MC asks Mammon & Levi what’s wrong. Belphie states how weird they’re being and Asmo also asks what happened, looking particularly upset. Lucifer calls out to the both of them too. But before they get a response Barbatos calls Lucifer asking them all to come to the hotel immediately.

On the way over Satan says Barbatos asking them over this early is strange and asks if he gave Lucifer a reason, Lucifer said Barbatos had promised to explain when they got there. Satan asks if this is wise considering two of them were already acting odd. Lucifer turns to them and says he’s not going to ask what their behaviour’s about rn but when they go back home the two of them have to explain to him what happened. They both give distracted noncommittal hums as answers. Satan says they’re like completely different people rn and Asmo says whatever the reason behind their behaviour it’s probably stupid. Asmo then asks MC about how he should paint his nails next time, MC can say a mature look,  =a feminine look or a simple look. Then he remembers he’s supposed to enrol in a cooking class that makes food to “cleanse the soul” it’ll be hard with new nails. He also worries about whether food that ‘cleanses the soul’ could exorcise him. MC after all the BS they’ve gone through is extremely paranoid and says it sounds sus Asmo says the 7 of them are also pretty suspicious and that given their limited time in the human world he wants to do everything he can. Behind them Levi meows. Asmo says that though the demons are here just on break the angels are gonna be here long term (guys guys guys what if S4’s after the brothers leave and it’s an angel focused season with them bringing in Michael and Raphael and the brothers only show up for small bits??? I’d cry I’ll get Mammon withdrawal). Levi meows again. Asmo says he wants to stay and have fun in the human world for longer too. Levi meows thrice in a row. Asmo finally snaps and yells at Levi. Levi says he just wants to talk to MC for a bit (remembered the girl in college who used to meow at me whenever we passed by each other). Satan says he knows that Levi’s done something bad that’s gonna piss off Lucifer and now he’s trying to drag MC away from the others to find away to fix it. Levi tries to deny it but Satan just congratulates him and says depending on how this turns out they may invite him to the ant-lucifer league. Belphie asks what he did and Levi tries to deny it until Beel stops walking in stunned silence and Belphie asks him what happened. Beel says he just remembered something awful.

Beel wants to go back to get his abandoned meat pies, Mammon breaks outta whatever stupor he was in to say that’s insane and MC suggests heading through the market. Beel loves the idea and hugs MC, with Asmo saying he wants to hug MC too. At the market people stare at them, Lucifer says it’s natural with how big a group they are, Asmo contributes it to his beauty, I say it’s Satan’s ugly ass clothes. Mammon says people oughta pay them if they’re gonna stare, Levi says it’s embarrassing and MC tells him he’s being too self-conscious, Levi replies saying it feels like he’s being made to do an embarrassing public dare. The butcher greets all of them, surprised to see all of them at once, Beel places his order and the butchers asks if they’re friends, family…(members of a cult? Orgy?) MC can look over at either Mammon or Lucifer and get them to answer. Mammon says that  except for MC they’re brothers though he doesn’t like being stuck with them for brothers but what can ya do. Belphie says Mammon’s got that last bit backwards. Lucifer says the same as Mammon’s first part but adds on that the others can be embarrassing. Satan says ‘like you’re not!?’ The butcher looks at this back of idiots who all look roughly the same age and nothing alike and says “ah. I see.” Then says “MC is your friend or…”Asmo laughs and calls the butcher nosy and says he and MC are a couple and that they’re they love of his life (the butcher previously also was introduced to Beel & MC and Mammon & Mc as couples…), Mammon says MC’s his servant (what a dick. I love him so much), Belphie says he thought the story was they hired MC as their babysitter (and that doesn’t sound shady at all) MC can say they’re a.) family This makes Beel & lucifer really happy and they agree. b.) their master, Mammon says MC’s got it wrong and it’s the other way around. Levi says that at least in Mammon’s case they got it right. c.) their babysitter – Satan protests to being called a baby. The Butcher’s like right….I kind of don’t wanna ask for anymore details but it’s nice you’re all so close.

Up in the hotel Beel is on his 37th meat pie much to Asmo’s dismay. Diavolo greets them and apologizes for the time, MC asks ‘what kinda bullfuckery is going on now’. Since last night there’ve been rumours of an evil spirit (aren’t diavolo & Barbatos also technically evil spirits…) Last night a guest had coming running to the front desk, seeming very pale and petrified with fear insisting there was something in the room with them. Though they don’t say a word Mammon gets shocked by this and Levi gets upset. Several staff members had gone to investigate but what they’d seen had left them shaking and unable to speak. They shock was so much that everyone who’d seen it had been admitted to the hospital. Mammon starts nervously laughing, saying it must have been all in their imagination, the way he words it makes it sound like he’s implying evil spirits aren’t real which I find hilarious. Levi, stuttering, backs him up. Satan says they can’t have all imagined it (isn’t this a thing though? Wait lemme google it up. Mass hallucinations or epidemic hysteria. The first two examples are during the middle ages and they both happened to nuns which is odd. The first was a nun who kept biting other nuns and it spread till the nuns were biting each other. The other was a nun who kept meowing and well that spread. Hey you guys need to read the wiki page for the examples of this it’s really fucking interesting). Mammon ignores Satan and tries to leave citing ‘stuff’ he’s gotta do. And Levi suddenly remembers some of his prior commitments as well. Asmo calls them out for being suspicious and Mammon stutters through the whole sentence denying it. Lucifer bans them from leaving which upsets them and Satan realises that they were called to get rid of the spirit. MC (who’s a shit) asks why the demon king’s son can’t take care of it or if it’s safe for demons to exorcise evil spirits. He says he’s got meetings the whole morning and that the spirit is something he can’t keep waiting till later. He says that though to humans they may seem similar, demons and evil spirits are very different beings. He also says the spirit is the kind that’ll be hard even for demons to handle alone. Asmo asks if that means Diavolo knows what it is. He says it’s a bogeyman (Me: *snort*)

The twins are surprised, Diavolo asks MC whether they know what it is. Bogeymen are well known even in the human world, with children fearing they may be hiding in dark corners of their rooms, they don’t have their own form and instead appear as your greatest fear (and isn’t this the thing from harry potter? A boggart right?) Belphie asks how it could have ended up in Corvo and Lucifer turns to the two obvious suspects as they try to inch their way towards the door. Through stutters they try to explain that they weren’t trying to run away. Lucifer’s so pissed at this point his text has stopped appearing in bold and is now appearing in red. Mammon throws Levi under the bus, saying he wouldn’t stop adding all these new upgrades to crowe, levi says it was Mammon doing that using Levi’s account and money. Levi said Mammon wanted to try an effect called “Pandora’s Gacha” which would give you a random effect that you weren’t told about beforehand. When Lucifer yells at them to quiet his text is both bold and red so you know he’s seconds away from murdering them. He makes them explain everything properly from the beginning and there’s a flashback.  They’re both in Levi’s room, realising how badly they fucked up, as black mist starts to swirl around them (they also keep finishing each other’s sentences as they talk about how fucked they are which I thought was cute). Levi says he has no idea what they summoned but that it should definitely not be loose in the human world and Mammon cusses out crowe (which fair? Which did an update to crowe let loose an evil spirit? Maybe cause crowe’s also connected to the devildom but I can’t imagine anyone in the devildom wanting to be surprised with an evil spirit either… and shouldn’t they correct that bug before someone in the human world summons something that only crowe in the devildom is supposed to summon. But I guess Levi’s crowe is a prototype). Crowe actually answers Mammon and starts telling what it is an what it does as the mist starts taking form. Crowe congratulates them on winning a ‘super special rare effect’, Mammon asks how they could congratulate them when this sucks. The mist forms into Lucifer in his demon form resulting in the two of them screaming and panicking, Mammon’s chanting ‘no’ over and over again and Levi shrieks at Crowe to get rid of it and Crowe asks if he wants to transfer the bogeyman to another location. Crowe asks permission to use 1000DP to install an update to do that, which makes Levi hesitate but Mammon agrees. Crowe asks where they would like to send it. Levi starts stuttering saying he doesn’t know and Mammon says anywhere but here. Levi then stutters out hotel corvo. (So I have questions: Does the bogeyman appear as what you fear the most in general or what you fear the most at the time you see it? Like since before it formed a shape they were already freaking out about Lucifer getting pissed at them so in that one moment that’s what they were scared of more than anything else. Also does it transform into your collective fear? Like since Mammon & Levi met it together it transformed into a pissed demon Lucifer cause that’s the one thing they both fear the most but if it met the two of them individually would it transform into something they alone fear the most? I’m asking cause the two of them seem to piss off Lucifer so much, and despite knowing the consequences for their actions this does not stop them from doing more things to piss off Lucifer, and they’ve been doing this for thousands upon thousands of years that it doesn’t make sense that the thing they fear the most would be Lucifer.)

Back in the present mammon happily compliments Levi on his quick thinking of transferring it to Corvo, Levi happily takes the compliment, calling himself a genius and saying he’d seen an ad for corvo right before the whole bogeyman thing appeared and it popped into his head. “How very interesting…” Says Lucifer with a smile on his face and remembering where they are right now Levi gasps. Lucifer quotes back what they just said to each other before transforming into his demon form making the two of them start screaming again. Belphie says the two of them redefine stupid. Barbatos, with a smile, says he’s pleased they found the cause of all this. And Satan remarks that Barbatos seems really pissed. Beel says the way he’s smiling makes it scarier and actually reminds him of Satan (I love the smiling despite being consumed with seething murderous rage thing some of the demons do. We even saw Mammon do it in that one Devilgram where the brothers for once actually managed to piss him off enough to make him transform into his demon form.) Barbatos says he’ll leave the clean up to Lucifer and the others. Lucifer, now back to normal, agrees despite looking upset and saying he’d rather not. Barbatos drags diavolo to his meeting despite Diavolo protesting and saying he doesn’t want to leave as things get interesting and asking if he can reschedule the meetings, Barbatos says Diavolo had promised to be professional and get all his work done if Barbatos let him come and stay in the human world. Diavolo asks MC if they can have a gossip session about everything that’s gonna happen later and they promise to. Diavolo complains again and Barbatos smiles and goes ‘Young Master.’ And Diavolo immediately fold and leaves. Belphie comments on how even Diavolo wouldn’t dare cross Barbatos when he’s pissed. Asmo and Satan say Levi and Mammon should fix this mess. Mammon says as brothers they should stick together. Belphie says he doesn’t get to play the brother card at his convenience. Asmo asks if MC agrees with him. Levi gives them puppy dog eyes and asks if MC will abandon them. If MC says they should all work together Mammon gets all sparkly eyed and says he knew MC would agree and Levi gets all sparkly eyed and says MC’s the best. Belphie says he doesn’t want to be stuck dealing with this. If MC says it’s their fault and they should figure it out Mammon asks them if that doesn’t sound too harsh and Levi says he understands that nobody cares about them. Satan calls them tweedled-dee and tweedled-dum and says they brought it on themselves. Beel asks Lucifer what they’ll do. Lucifer says Mammon & Levi should deal with it, Levi tries to protest but Asmo says they should have known this would happen. They’re interrupted by Simeon and Solomon, with Solomon saying he wants MC to take care of this.

Lucifer asks why they’re here. Solomon says Barbatos told him and that the bogeyman was a perfect opportunity that they can’t let go to waste and that he wants to make it MC’s final exam. MC can say it sounds exciting or crazy, MC’s a lunatic so after they say the first Solomon is pleased and says he’d expect nothing less from his apprentice and that this is gonna be hard but it’ll make it more rewarding. Simeon laughs and says Solomon seems to have rubbed off on MC, he pauses and adds “in a good way”. Solomon smiling says that they’ll have Simeon with them as help. Simeon says he’d only come by to deliver cakes but had gotten kidnapped by Solomon. MC says they could use Simeon’s help, he’s silent for a moment but agrees though he says he doesn’t know how much help he’ll be. The others agree to come along to watch/help MC’s exam. Mammon gets all sparkly at the thought of his ‘sweet little brothers’ coming to help but Belphie says none of them are doing it for him or Levi but for MC instead. Levi says he feels like they really lucked out here. Solomon asks Lucifer if he has any protests. Lucifer looks tired and done but agrees to it all. They end up in a really creepy bloodstained hall bathed in red light. Beel asks Levi not to walk plastered on to him. Levi stutters and says he can’t. Mammon, also thoroughly freaked out, holds on to MC as they walk and says the hallway is really creepy. Asmo scolds him for using this as an excuse to hold MC. Lucifer tells them all to stfu. From the far end of the fall they hear growling until from the shadows something roars and comes charging towards them.  Mammon screams.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter sixteen — “aftermath”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: steve finds bucky a bit stressed and acting (only slightly) neurotic. he aims to uncover the source of his best friend’s conflict... and he’s not surprised at the answer.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N:] ‘doll dizzy’ is 40’s slang for “a boy who is crazy about girls” also this is kind of a filler chapter, sorry :(

The walk back to his living quarters was hazy and slow. His mind went back and forth from scattered to blank, in complete disbelief that what just happened happened. It was surreal; it almost felt like it didn't happen.

It wasn't... supposed to happen. They were supposed to be friends. Conceptually he knew this, but then she was there and she was so close and her hands were on him and she was saying such sweet, gentle things.

Briefly, so Bucky touched his lips lightly with the pads of his index and middle finger. If he focused hard enough, he could still feel it, feel her. Before he could dig himself another grave, the rational part of his brain yanked him back to reality.

Did he ruin everything? After all, it was him that leaned in this time. How different would they be from the last time the two of them got too close? The rumination would've continued, but the voice of a blonde super soldier interrupted his thoughts.

"Buck, you day drinkin' now?" Steve called, jokingly.

"What?"

"You look drunk."

Post fuck up delirium? He bet he looked like an idiot. To be honest, he felt a little inebriated after what he just experienced.

"I can't get drunk."

"Yeah, that's why I'm confused."

"I just..." he trailed off, thinking of an excuse, "was on a run. That's all."

As Bucky walked up to him, he could more clearly see the confusion on Steve's face.

"In those clothes?"

"...yes."

"Whatever you say, pal..."

Bucky didn't have time for so many questions! He didn't even have time to think; he had no idea what he was going to do, what was going to happen. Then Steve started talking again.

"Hey, Sam and I were going to-"

"I gotta go," Bucky interrupted, needing to find someplace to suffer through his thoughts.

"Buck-"

"I'll see ya later."

From there, he left his best friend more confused than when he found him.

—

Bucky paced around his room, his worried, worried mind running in circles. In the heat of the moment, she said she wouldn't leave, but how could she not? And what the fuck was transference? Was that what was actually happening? Even if it was, how could she condone his actions? There was no way she could stay after that! Right?

The rest of the session was so awkward and they left things in such a weird place and Bucky was so confused but also feeling all sorts of other things and-

"Bucky."

He turned to see Steve march through the entryway with a kind of glorious purpose only Steve Rogers seemed to have.

He sighed. "What do you need?"

"What is up with you, man?"

"What?"

"What's up with you? You're acting weird."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong!"

"You're a terrible liar," he deadpanned with a hint of a smile.

"I'm actually a good liar. I just... got a lot on my mind, okay? So, you can go be a worryin' geezer somewhere else. I'll be just fine."

"Geezer? Did you forget that you're literally older than me?"

"Shut up," Bucky all but pouted, too frazzled to muster up some creative banter. "Punk."

"Just tell me what's wrong, ya jerk."

He knew Steve wouldn't budge. At first he thought, stubborn ass. But then, he remembered how Y/N said Steve's stubbornness was something she really respected about him.

Bucky sighed, giving in and slouching into a chair near his bed. "It's Y/N."

"The... therapist?"

"Yes. The therapist."

"What about her? Did she do something? Is this another Zemo situation?"

Steve's voice got more defensive with each word. Like he was ready to kick someone's ass if need be. Steve Rogers: loyal to a fault. What else is new?

"No! No, nothing like that. Things are just... kinda complicated..."

"Complicated how?"

Yeah, how exactly was he supposed to explain this part? He didn't want to reveal any details and get her fired. Obviously. Steve wouldn't tell anyone anything that would get Bucky in trouble. That much he knew. But with Y/N, he wasn't sure. He decided to play it safe, proving that he was, in fact, a good liar. Or, at least a good only-tell-certain-parts-of-the-truth-er.

"Complicated like she might leave."

"Why would she leave? Are you guys done with the therapy?"

"Not exactly. It's... things between us are... odd."

"Odd?" Steve asked, clearly wanting some kind of elaboration.

"Yes," Bucky said curtly, giving him nothing of the sorts.

Steve stared at him for a moment, and it looked like he was trying to solve a math problem in his head. Bucky almost laughed.

"Buck, you didn't..."

"Didn't what?!"

"She's your therapist!" he exclaimed, although he didn't look very upset. More so surprised.

Now Bucky was starting to lose his composure. "What are you talking about?!"

"Well, I guess you really are getting back your old self because this is probably what he would do."

Did he just get called a man slut?

"What is that supposed to mean?" he crossed his arms.

"You've always been... what'd we used to call it? 'Doll dizzy?' Yeah. It's making a reappearance."

"I-..." Bucky exasperated.

Okay, maybe he was a little doll dizzy back when he was a kid, but now? Certainly not now. That's ridiculous.

"What? You're gonna look at me and you're gonna tell me that I'm wrong?"

"What exactly are you implying?"

"Are you..." he stuttered, slightly embarrassed, thinking of how to choose his words, "being intimate... with your therapist?"

If he wasn't preoccupied with worrying about his psychologist leaving, he might have laughed at Steve's awkwardness.

"What! No! It's not like that!" He felt flustered.

Steve laughed. He fucking laughed. "Then what?"

Bucky rubbed his eyes, groaning in annoyance. "We're... just friends."

Well, they were supposed to be. He's not sure what they were now... or what was going to happen. Beforehand, any cursed feelings he had were just that: feelings. They were in the back of his mind, barely making themselves conscious long enough to be known, long enough for him to be fully aware of them. But now, he felt like an exposed nerve, feeling all too much too fast.

"Just friends?" he raised his brows in disbelief.

"Yeah, just... yeah..."

"I think you guys look at each other a little too long to be just friends..."

Bucky scoffed. "What does that even mean?"

"I saw you two at the bonfire."

"Okay? Whatdya want, a trophy?"

"Yeah, yeah. And whenever she wasn't looking at you, you were gawkin' at her."

"I don't gawk," he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, but you do."

"And since when are you tracking everyone's eye movements?"

"You were subtle, I'll give you that. But I know ya, Buck. And I'm observant."

"Yeah, and I'm screwed."

"Why?"

"'Cause she's probably gonna leave now. I mean, she said she didn't have to, but she'll probably think everything over and end up leaving."

"What, 'cause you looked at her?"

"No, 'cause I kissed her!"

A smile grew on Steve's face. "I knew it."

Once more, Bucky let out a loud and annoyed groan of frustration. "Man, I fucked up. I had a good thing going for me... god damn transference... shit."

"Transference?"

"It's a thing she told me about, it's like... apparently my feelings about something else get transferred to her, so I don't really feel that way about her, but it seems like I do... I think."

"That's... a thing?"

"Apparently- I don't know," Bucky flailed his hands, beginning to pace again. "That's what she told me at least."

"Well... did she kiss you back?"

Bucky stopped moving.

"She did..." he said, while realizing that, yes, she actually did kiss him back and shocked that she... actually kissed him back.

He guessed his mind hadn't caught up to him yet. He hadn't analyzed their actions and each physical change between them. He guessed he was still stuck in that moment. In his head, they were still kissing.

"That's a good sign... right?" Steve shrugged.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, brain all but malfunctioning. "I don't know what it is. I don't know anything anymore. I'm a crummy patient..."

"Oh, come on. What happened to Brooklyn's ladies man?"

"He fell off a train."

Steve looked only slightly mortified, but it made Bucky laugh. Comedic catharsis seemed to ease the tension in his chest.

"Look," Bucky started, "she's like the best thing that's happened to me in a long time. And I think I might've ruined it. I just want things to be okay with us... I don't want her to leave."

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"No, we ended the session early 'cause of me. It was... awkward after."

"Well, go talk to her then!"

"I can't, I just left. I wanna at least give her some space."

"You didn't seem to care about space earlier," Steve teased.

Bucky smacked his best friend's arm. "Would you cut it out!"

"Wait, but how did it happen? Like did you just leap up and grab her face? How did it go down?"

"I'm gonna kill you."

"I thought I was the wing man! I need details!"

Bucky turned. "Oh yeah, wingman? How's Sharon?"

Steve shut up.

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