#like sure you wanted that dude's attention or whatever

[giannaln4]

For you? Anything.

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Even during the worst week of you life, and no matter how tired he is, Lando would do anything to make you feel better.  (2.6k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, language.

a/n: And we are back to our regular schedule! Kinktober is officially over (kinda, more context here) so it's time to post regular fics. So, I wrote this sometime last week before the shit show of yesterday's race so that's why there are no mentions of it, but I do have some planned about that so we'll see when I can work on them. Anyway, this is for me and all the girlies who have been feeling stressed about work, let me know what you think!

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What a week it has been for you. You had done nothing but work on a stupid project your boss put you in charge of. It was very short notice, and the due date was creeping up on you faster than you would’ve liked. 

The good thing is Lando had been away for weeks due to his job; not that you didn’t want to see him or that he was a distraction, nothing like that, but you always preferred to be with him instead of working, which isn’t something you would be able to do this time due to the amount of things you had to go over, but with the house all to yourself, you had the chance to get tons of work done.

It was finally the day of the presentation; you were supposed to pitch the finished project to management and honestly, you weren’t 100% confident in the job you had done. Usually, you were never too harsh on yourself, but with so little time to work on it, you knew there were some parts here and there that could’ve used a little more of your attention, but it was either use what you already have or show up with an unfinished project, so that would have to do. It wasn’t terrible; you were sure of that, but these people always found something to complain about.

You were there for only a few minutes before you were dismissed. What a fucking joke, you thought.

You didn’t even get half the presentation done, and the old dudes sitting across from you were already attacking you with questions, questions that didn’t even make sense or barely fit the theme of what you were trying to talk about. 

Your boss was the one to send you out, saying something like “You have another week; we hope you’ll be more prepared next time,” before standing up and leaving the cold conference room, followed by the rest of the men that were surrounding him.

Only minutes after going back to your office you saw him come in, giving you notes on the things he thought you should work on. As the polite girl that you are, you just nodded and wrote down whatever he was saying, apologising for not turning it up on time, but as soon as he left, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, ruining your make-up in the process. You still had half of your day ahead of you, so you calmed down, washed your face, and went back to work like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, however, that’s a different story. You went back home completely devastated. All those sleepless nights you spent with your nose buried in your laptop felt like a total waste. 

As you drove back home, you tried your best to hold the tears, but it was getting harder by the second, especially with each step you took down the hall that led to the door of your apartment, and when you made it there, you started crying as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You instantly got rid of your uncomfortable clothes and got into one of Lando’s shirts, curling up in your bed and letting all that consuming and irrational feeling of failure sink in. You knew you weren’t a failure; you were well aware of your worth, but you couldn’t help but feel like that after miserably failing the presentation you worked so hard on.

Suddenly, the front door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud sigh as you left the bed. You knew it was Lando coming back from his last race, and any other day you would’ve been happy to see him, running to the door to greet him with a hug like he deserved, but right now, you didn't want him to have to see you in that pathetic state.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, sighing again when you realised how obvious it was that you had been crying, so you’d just have to avoid eye contact.

“Hi baby,” Lando greeted you with his usual pretty smile as he entered your room.

"Hey,” you replied, immediately turning around and walking towards your desk, sitting facing away from Lando as you opened your laptop.

“Did you sleep okay last night? How did your presentation go?” He walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, kissing your temple.

“It was okay.” He stopped when he noticed your heavy mood. 

"You alright, love? You seem down." His brows were slightly furrowed as he tried to make eye contact.

​​"Yeah, fine. I think I’m just gonna work on it a little more; there were some things missing that I need to include," you replied, clearly lacking energy.

“Hey now, let’s not do that." Lando turned the chair over to make you face him. He looked down and noticed your glossy eyes, a worried feeling growing inside him. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

You just shook her head briefly, a lip-tight smile covering your face. “Everything’s fine.”

“Y/N…” The slip of your name past his lips made you want to cry again. Of course you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend, but you didn’t like the thought of him having to pick up the pieces anytime you messed up. As a tear rolled down your face, you realised that you didn't have the energy or even the desire to push him away “Oh baby, come here.”

Lando took your hand as he sat on the floor next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your face was now buried in his black hoodie, the tears wetting it instantly as he brushed a hand softly up and down your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you." He would understand if you didn’t want to talk about it but would still like to know what was happening. If there was anything he could do to help, he would gladly do it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I just-” A sob cut you off, “I- I couldn’t do it, even after everything I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Is this about your presentation?” He asked, his voice softer than ever, and you simply nodded. “It’s alright-”

“No, Lando, it’s not alright. I worked hard to get it together, to get it ready for days and nights and I still failed, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey, baby, look at me," he interrupted you, pulling back a bit and gently lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “You know that’s not true; you’re so smart, and I've always admired your beautiful mind. You gave it your best, like you said, you worked really hard, and even if you didn’t get the reaction you deserved, you know I’m right here.” You simply nodded at his words as the back of your hand wiped some of the tears. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?”

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed in me like I am right now." You looked down to your lap as more tears fell from your tired eyes.

“You should know that I could never be disappointed in you, Y/N. You are so intelligent and kind; I’ve never met anyone with such a beautiful soul, so I don't ever want you to feel down about yourself because you are perfect." You felt both of Lando’s large hands caress either side of your face, bringing it up so he could look into your eyes again as he swiped at the tears that had managed to escape from your eyes.

The slight smile that had formed on your tear-stained face told Lando that his words meant something to you, and they did. “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend for all those reasons." You giggled slightly. “And I’m sure that no one would disagree with me.”

“My boss would.”

“What does he know?” That made you laugh again, making Lando smile, a smile so sincere that told you he believed everything he just said.

"Thank you, baby, even though you’re being a little biased." You sniffled as you gently stroked the hand that was still on your cheek, keeping your eyes locked with his “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. You took a deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than you did five minutes ago as you looked at your laptop briefly. 

“I should probably get back to work, though; I have to basically remake the whole thing and meet with them again next week.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to bed? You look pretty tired. We can cuddle, I know we both need it.”

“I would love to,” your gaze fell on your bed momentarily; it looked so comfortable, and it was literally calling your name, “but I really need to get this done, and I have to do it right this time. I don’t wanna be embarrassed again in front of a bunch of old dudes.”

You stood up from his lap and sat back on your desk, focusing on the screen in front of you as you began to analyse what you should take out and what you needed to add. 

Lando just sighed. He knew there was no way he would get you to stop working if you already set your mind to it, but honestly, he thought he would get to spend every second with you once he got back home, so needless to say, he was a little disappointed that wasn’t the case.

He got it though; your job was important for you, and you would never settle for anything unless it was perfect. What made his blood boil was the fact that your boss had the nerve to make you feel like you weren't worth it. 

“Did you eat something already?” He asked you, getting up from the floor and wrapping his arms around you once again.

“Uh- I’m not really hungry.”

“Why don’t I cook something for us? What do you say?”

“It’s okay, baby, you should go to bed.” You tilted your head to look at him and give him a quick kiss. “I know you are tired, the triple header couldn’t have been easy.”

You started collecting your things so you could take over a different part of the apartment. He had been travelling for weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to keep him up just because you needed to get work done.

“Where are you going?”

“To your office, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not-”

“Lan, I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go to bed, don’t worry about me.” Taking a few steps closer to him, you gave him a loving hug, “I love you.”

You left the room, holding everything in your hands as Lando just stood in the same spot. There was no way he would go to bed without you, not when you were feeling so down and it was clear you just needed to take a break.

Taking a deep breath, he started to make a plan in his head. He took the quickest shower of his life and got into something comfy, praying there was food, or more specifically, ingredients to cook you something that he wouldn’t mess up and that you would enjoy.

Everything seemed to be on his side when he found everything he needed to make some Alfredo. Everything was pretty much premade, so he knew he wouldn’t ruin it. He happily got to work, setting up a nice dinner as he hummed one of the songs that had been stuck in his head for who knows how long. 

In the office, you were nearly breaking your head as you read the information you had over and over again. You kind of knew what it needed to be since your boss gave you a few specific notes, but then again, you weren’t feeling completely confident in your own ideas. 

You didn’t realise you had been locked away for over an hour, your eyes getting insanely tired as you typed away. A break was needed and well deserved, and you were aware of this, but somehow it didn’t feel like you were making any progress, even though you had been working non-stop and you had already readjusted about half of the project.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you abruptly closed your laptop, your face falling to your hands as your eyes felt wet yet again. That was it; there was no way you could keep going. You needed to grab a quick snack and head straight to bed. You did have an early morning the next day after all. 

Just as you were gathering all your strength to get up, you heard the door open, making you jump a bit.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” You laughed as your hand fell on your heart.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggled, walking towards you.

“What are you doing still awake? I thought you went to bed.” 

“I couldn’t sleep without you. Are you almost done here?” He looked at your closed laptop, celebrating internally as he assumed you were done working for the night. 

“Yeah, I guess. My brain stopped working, so I thought my future self can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Good. Come here.” He extended his hand out to you, which you happily took. “Please stop overworking yourself, you know this isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you let out a sigh as you accepted his embrace. “I’m seriously thinking about quitting. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that doesn’t make me feel this stressed all the time.”

His hand was caressing your back softly as he pulled away to look down at you. “You know you can, right? And I really think you should. I make enough to support the both of us and even a family in the future... Baby, you don’t have to keep working there if you don’t want to.”

His words made a smile appear on your face. Not because he was offering to basically support you for the rest of your life, but because he brought having a family with you. “You know I’d never let you do that-”

“But if you do want to quit and just take a break, you can do that too,” he interrupted you. You nodded, seriously considering it, but that was something you would have to think about and have a serious conversation in the future if you ever did decide to do it.

“We’ll see. Right now, I just need something to eat and some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Speaking about dinner, I made something for you.”

He took your hand and guided you to the dining room, a big smile on his face as he proudly showed off the beautiful set-up and the (hopefully) delicious dinner he managed to cook. He looked back at you expectantly, but his happiness quickly turned into a worried look when he noticed tears falling from your eyes again. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, a hand softly falling on your cheek as he leaned down. 

You were out of words; you truly didn’t know what to say. This is just what you needed, and the fact that he went out of his way to do it for you meant a lot more than he could ever imagine.

“I- Lando, this is-” you cut yourself off when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just jumped in his arms and gave him the tightest hug ever. “Thank you for everything. And I mean everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back as he buried his head on the crook of your neck. “For you, my love, I’d do anything.”

[princess-edmundo-diaz]

okay so I know 7x04 is from Buck's POV, so the characters are a little off to reflect Buck's feelings and perceptions. But rewatching it today, why did it feel like Eddie was the only one that was vastly different from his normal self? To the point it was a little disorienting. Even some of the line delivery (like the trivia/babysitting thing) were not how Eddie typically delivers things. Like yeah I get that everyone is a little different in Buck's mind, but the more I watch it, the more I realize that Eddie's character shifts more as the episode goes on and Buck sinks deeper in his jealousy. And while the episode focused on Buck, Buck is focused on Eddie. So it felt like the obvious differences to his usual mannerisms were highlighted.

[hoshifighting]

staff!jeonghan

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.

staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.

he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”

but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him—no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.

fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.

then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.

he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”

and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.

jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.

“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.

he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”

he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.

but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.

jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.

you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”

“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.

it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.

when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.

like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.

“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”

you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”

“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”

he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”

you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”

next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.

you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.

“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.

“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.

he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”

you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”

he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.

“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”

you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y���know that?”

your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”

he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”

and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way—with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.

like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.

“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.

you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”

he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”

and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.

he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”

you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.

“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”

you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”

you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.

“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”

you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”

your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”

you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”

his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”

“good girl.”

[dangopango00]

GIVE HIM SOME ATTENTION

What does he do when he wants some attention?

BLLK x S/O!GN Reader

Characters: Isagi, Bachira, Chigiri, Kunigami (Pre&Post WC), Gagamaru, Rin, Nanase, Sae, Shidou, Barou, Sendou, Nagi, Reo, Oliver, Otoya, Karasu, Yukimiya, Hiori, Kurona, Zantetsu, Raichi, Aryu, Kiyora, Kaiser, Ness (In that order)

CW: Suggestive as hell in Aiku & Otoya’s parts, A little angsty in Shidou, Reo & Ness parts

A/N: Idk all of them toooooo well but they’re all interesting to me so I’d like to try also I excluded some people who are irrelevant in my mindscape (i'm so sorry) (Nagi is honestly lucky to be here with the flopism he has been displaying smh) Gagamaru my goat ntm on him also added Zantetsu in honor of him finally getting his cover art

HCS UTC

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Yoichi Isagi

I think if he’s craving attention he’d probably be a bit hesitant because it's embarrassing for him to ask (since he likes a lot of attention so he’d be asking all day LOL). In order to save himself the embarrassment he’ll usually just hold your hand and give you a serious look– if he can muster that (sometimes if he’s feeling shy he’ll just put his hand on yours while looking away). Well when he does look at you he thinks he’s giving you a serious look but surely all you see is him giving you puppy eyes.

Meguru Bachira

Oh if he’s craving attention YOU WILL KNOW. He’d probably cling to you as if you were a missing part of his body he was trying to reconnect. He’ll hug your arm or pepper you in kisses and he’ll seem way happier than usual because he’s just so glad to be around you. He’s a bit ridonkulous he might even jump on you, making you both collapse to the floor, or if you’re in a place with a hard floor he’ll instead pull you towards him and squeeze you like a giant teddy bear.

Hyoma Chigiri

He’s a bit tricky honestly. He has a good amount of pride so he doesn’t like to seem too clingy but that doesn’t mean he’ll back down if he feels like he’s being neglected. If he wants attention he’ll try to make you the one who’s embarrassed and craving attention by flirting subtly though incessantly. He’ll wrap his arm around you and lightly ghost his thumb over your skin or even ‘innocently’ kiss your jawline and then just as quickly as he started, he’ll stop and go back to whatever he was doing before so you’re the one asking for attention from him now.

Rensuke Kunigami (PRE Wild Card)

Honestly? Upstanding young man ass dude he’ll probably just start giving you attention until you reciprocate. He’s stubborn too so you know he won’t stop until you give in unless you’re seriously not in the mood for whatever reason. He’ll sneak up behind you and hug you and start kissing up your neck; eventually turn your head so he can kiss you on the lips if you’re willing to indulge him. The kind of guy who’d just lay up in your arms and gently lay you down with him after a long day.

Rensuke Kunigami (POST WC)

Ok I know he SEEMS insanely different but tbh I don’t think he’d change all that much. He’s probably a little bit more socially awkward because for a while all he’s done is train with little social interaction. When he wants attention, I think he’d likely use the same tactic but in a different way. He’d probably nip your neck or shoulder (not painfully; he is trying to be playful) and when it gets your attention, he’d start to pepper you in kisses or lay his head down on your shoulder if it's been a long day.

Gin Gagamaru

I don’t have a great grasp on this guy (despite being one of my goats 🥹) but I think he’d probably have like mannerisms for it like pointing at where he wants to be kissed and kisses you back when you oblige him. He also seems like the kind of guy who’d bring you something from his journeys in the wilderness as like a homemade gift and hopes you’ll give him the attention he seeks in return (you can definitely tell because he just stares at you as you open the gift, hoping you like it and then continues to stare expectantly when you do like it)

Rin Itoshi

Imo if Rin decided to get into a relationship with someone he’d dedicate himself to them just as he does soccer because he wouldn’t want them to be hurt the way he was hurt (someone you love acting coldly towards you) but he doesn’t really know how without cringing. SO his way of asking for attention would be somewhat sweet although awkward. I think he would likely try to do some semi romantic gesture like laying his head on your shoulder/in your lap (although he’s pretty tense) or just making general contact like touching knees or brushing fingers together and will absolutely WHIP his head away if you look at him.

Nijiro Nanase

Nanase is just a guy; another upstanding young man. I think he would probably flatter you if he wanted attention. He’ll probably start talking about the things he likes about you and how much he loves you, giving you a kiss on the cheek along with his praise as well. He is very aware of the fact that you think he’s the cutest thing to hit planet Earth and he will use it to his advantage!! Of course, he means what he says but if saying it out loud will get him covered in kisses he’ll say as much as you want because he’s never gonna run out of things to say.

Sae Itoshi

This guy… Is a real piece of work but, like his brother, I think if he’s willing to get into a relationship then that means he's willing to put in the effort but doesn’t know how, although he respects you a ton. If he’s craving attention I don’t think he’ll even realize it; he’ll just get really irritated when you aren’t around and when you are around he’ll stare you down so hard he could burn a hole through you but the fact that he doesn’t even look angry is what tips you off to what he wants. The look in his eyes isn’t insanely soft but it's not a hard stare either, he looks like he's daydreaming or zoning out tbh.

Ryusei Shidou

If Sae is a piece of work this dude is a whole project. It’s easy to say he’s like Bachira, which he is during the day, but I think it’d be more interesting to talk about him during the night. When the day comes to an end he said he “becomes nothing” so I think it would be the number one time where he craves attention and validation that he exists and you’re really there. It’s a somewhat vulnerable time for him but he plays it off like he’s just his usual clingy self and probably places himself in front of you at any opportunity. Looking down? He’ll lay on your lap. Facing forward? Well here he is in front of you. And by the time it’s finally time for bed he's completely wrapped his body around yours.

Shoei Barou

It’s kind of hard to imagine how he’d show affection in a relationship buttt I think similar to Kunigami, I think he would just give you attention until you give in. However, I think Barou is probably a bit more aggressive about it and he’d probably go up to you and kiss you, then pull away just enough to await your next move. If you take too long to decide though he’ll start kissing around your face: on your nose, your forehead, etc. He’s pretty bold but he is a tiny bit embarrassed/hesitant when it comes to feeling ‘soft’ with you so he’ll kiss you to distract himself from it.

Shuto Sendou

This guy is peak loserboy activity whew he is a huge sucker for being spoiled so he wants attention OFTEN. I think he probably just stands really close to you and complains about how his day was soooooo horrible and how he worked so hard but if being standoffish isn’t working he holds onto your waist for dear life or plops himself on your lap and hugs you, waiting for attention when he gets desperate. If he’s super desperate he’ll start kissing around your neck and complain even more. He even starts to say how betrayed he feels at how easily you’re ignoring his woes.

Seishiro Nagi

He’s pretty efficient in the way he shows he wants attention. Since he’s the spoiled type he’ll usually try to get your attention the normal way first: acting cute and laying his head on your shoulder or on your lap while he plays his game (he is expecting you to play with his hair) but if you don’t he’ll honestly be confused at first because he’s usually given whatever he wants. At first he’ll try to put your hand on his head but if you keep taking it away he’ll make you lay down with him and literally try to immobilize you by putting all his weight on your body; will even pretend to be asleep if you protest.

Reo Mikage

He’s a lot bit codependent so if he’s feeling neglected he’ll do everything he can to get your attention. He’ll usually shower you in gifts and/or take you on a romantic date. He’ll plan out a whole ass day of pampering just because he wants some attention. Please remind him he doesn’t need to do. All that. Because he often feels a bit useless if he doesn’t have time to do that. Not only does he feel useless but he’s somehow convinced himself subconsciously that he doesn’t really deserve your attention if he hasn’t done anything for you.

Oliver Aiku

If he wants attention from you, he’ll give you an insane amount of attention. Unlike Kunigami and Barou, he’s very forward and will text you, showering you with sweet words while he’s on his way to yours and when he gets there, he’s practically already all over you. He’s going on about how much he loves you and how he missed you so much all while kissing you wherever he can reach you. Tbh if he's craving attention, he probably just wants to have sex since he’s not a very clingy guy so he's probably already backing you into a wall and trying to undress you.

Eita Otoya

Honestly his appeal to others is usually him being the “cold but caring” type so, like Aiku, he’d probably text you before getting to yours but it’d be even more bare bones like, “i miss you” or “can I see u” even if he DOES genuinely like you he doesn’t really think deeply about his feelings and impulsively texts you when he wants attention. Unlike Aiku, he is a clingy guy and if he’s really desperate for attention he’ll still escalate it to sex if he can; just slower. Probably wants to lay his face in your chest or lap and makeout.

Tabito Karasu

Oh this smartass. He’s probably similar to Hyoma in the fact that he makes sure it's you who wants his attention by pampering you one minute and acting like nothing happened the next. However he does tend to like smart people so if you’re smart enough to see through his hot-and-cold act he’ll eventually hold you and hide his face in your chest, admitting defeat but he’d still be smiling because either way he wins. He’s already got you and he won't let go until you fill the quota of kisses you owe him.

Kenyu Yukimiya

He’s the type to feel a bit embarrassed about wanting attention at first but will be more forward if you don’t pick up on his subtle hints. His hints include sneaking glances at you or holding your hand whenever he gets the opportunity. He’s honestly pretty charismatic so I think that when being more forward he would probably kiss your hand and help you with anything you may need to get done or finish anything he may need to do so that you can completely focus on each other when there’s nothing left.

Yo Hiori

Honestly craving attention is a somewhat rare occurrence for him so it's a bit embarrassing, especially since you two are used to kinda doing your own thing. Probably gives you little ‘hints’ like starting off by asking if you want to play a game with him as an excuse to get you close to him. Another hint would likely be him invading your bubble whether it be by scooting close to you or hooking his leg over yours a bit or whatever it may be. If you still aren’t getting it he probably says something that tips you off while looking directly at you or glancing at you like, “Do you mind me being clingy?” or something along those lines.

Ranze Kurona

He’s such a sweetie he probably braids your hair if it's long enough (if it’s short he’ll still try a root braid if you want but he’s not very good at it). If not he’ll usually get you both stickers to mess around with, putting some on your face, others on various items and sometimes you put them in random hidden places as a nice surprise when you find them again. Typically this is enough to get the attention he’s looking for, but if you’re teasing him or simply forgot, he’ll lightly nip your shoulder or lightly graze his teeth over your shoulder (Since you two got together you have definitely encouraged him to be comfortable with his teeth around you)

Zantetsu Tsurugi

This guy often tries to be something he’s not so he’d probably try to do a bunch of romantic gestures that aren’t his style. Knowing him he’d probably put together some poems. They aren’t very good but it IS very sweet and he’d keep doing this for a while until the poems start to sound the same and he starts to get frustrated. He’d try learning an instrument, impressing you with his knowledge on a subject you like etc. until eventually he would just force himself to suck it up and ask you for attention outright and just straight up admit how much you mean to him because all these other things are draining and they aren’t him.

Jingo Raichi

He’s another guy who finds it a bit embarrassing to be ‘soft’ so when craving attention he’ll often ‘starve’ himself of it. Usually you’re the one who has to give him attention but if you haven’t for whatever reason then he’ll be angrier than usual that day with his teammates. He’ll probably give up by the time he gets home and just crashes into you grumbling about how his day has been SO unsexy. Probably won’t let you go until he falls asleep tbh and even then he still has a pretty good grip on you.

Jyubei Aryu

When he wants attention Aryu would probably start flaunting his beauty, pushing his hair back, striking poses, modeling clothes for you, whatever stylish thing he can think of– he will do it and then glance over at you to make sure you were paying attention. If that doesn’t work then he’d have you do some stylish things like he might have you try on some clothes he bought you or ask you to style his hair because he is “lacking inspiration” (He actually just knows you like playing with his hair smh)

Jin Kiyora

This dude is a freak, it's a lot bit funny. When he wants attention he probably asks you to watch a movie with him (You’re already suspicious that he didn’t put on Fight Club for the umpteenth time or another action movie). He honestly put it on as background noise and thought it looked boring so he’d probably just tell you to lay down with him and lightly kiss you until you get the picture (Spoil him). Can and WILL turn the movie off and hide the remote if you neglect him smh (He will not enjoy the returned energy next time he wants to watch fight club so for both of your sakes just give him some kisses).

Michael Kaiser

Complicated individual, rightfully so. If he wants attention he’d simply demand it. Bye. He would likely just pull you towards him without any further commentary, he might even look a bit annoyed. If you didn’t know him you’d think he was in a bad mood and upset with you but you know how he gets. However, he’s more clear when it’s been a long day and he’s feeling a bit beat down or unsure of himself. He’d just shove his face into your back or your midsection and let you play with his hair as he conks theee fuck out.

Alexis Ness

Another complicated individual whew. What is up with these codependent purple dudes who found the worst possible person to depend on? Ness has yet to find a relationship where he is properly loved and not essentially abandoned so if he feels like you’re slipping away he’ll panic and do everything in his power to convince you to keep him around. He needs a lot of reassurance tbh and spends a lot of his time in your arms. When he’s craving attention he’ll usually just be sulking around all day like a sad wet cat. Every now and again he turns to look at you wistfully and walks past very slowly like that damn homeless ant. Show him some love he needs it now more than ever ayayayay.

[misctf]

What You Wanted

Richard wanted to better himself. At first, as a wide-eyed new freshman, he was looking to make a change. Having always been more nerdy and unathletic, Richard prioritized his studies rather than his physical fitness growing up. But after years of fearing the gym, he took his first step. And the rest was history. He grew lean with muscle and learned the ins and outs of the gym routine. He found a gym buddy and quickly climbed the social hierarchy. Smart, fit, and now entering his junior year- he was living his best life.

“Richard!” Thomas’s nasally voice cut through the air, “Are you even paying attention?” Beady eyes narrowed behind his thick rimmed glasses.

Richard shrugged, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” He was thinking more about his gym session earlier that day instead of paying attention to whatever nerdy movie Thomas picked, “I’m just not feeling it today.”

Richard and Thomas were friends since middle school. Both unapologetically nerdy, each surviving their fair share of bullying. But while Richard’s interests in fitness blossomed, Thomas remained entrenched in all things nerdy.

“You’re never feeling it anymore.” Thomas lamented, “I’m worried about you.” He looked at his friend closely, “Are you becoming like them? One of those stupid, smelly meatheads?” Richard knew Thomas never approved of his new friends- especially since many of them gave off the same vibes as their former bullies.

“Thomas, look.” Richard started, “I just... We’re obviously very different people now.”

“Not true! We both study Biochemistry! We’re both applying to graduate school in a few months!” Thomas interjected.

“Yeah, but Thomas, I’ve changed. I don’t really like superheroes and Battle Monsters and all that stuff anymore.” Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I mean, its fun from time to time, but you’re obsessed with it.”

“Obsessed?”

Richard nodded, “Look, I need to get going. I have an exam.” He grabbed his backpack and started towards the door.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Thomas yelled, “So you think you’re better than me too? Just like all those stupid jocks, right?” Thomas continued, “Fine, if you want to be a stupid, smelly jock so bad, go for it! Don’t come crying to me!”

“Whatever.” Richard said, “See you around.”

_________

Richard worked through his thermodynamics exam with ease. It became such a mindless activity that his thoughts wandered to Thomas. They had been close for years. And Thomas gave him an outlet for some of his more nerdier interests. Sure, he wasn’t as interested in all that nerd stuff like he was back in middle school, but Richard did value the time he spent with Thomas. He frowned. Maybe he was just a bit too harsh.  He’d apologize once he got done with his exam. But as he continued to write down the answers to these complex questions, he felt something welling up from within him. Something physical... something...

BUUUUURRRRPPPPP

Richard’s eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth. He felt his cheeks flush red and looked around the room, noticing a few looks of disgust, as well as a few snickers from some of his classmates.

“Richard?” The professor said, looking up from her book.

“Yo, my bad dude.” Richard’s eyes widened, as did the professor’s, “Whoa, brah! Didn’t mean to say that!” His face reddened even more.

“Richard, please focus on your test.” She said sternly.

He nodded, trying to tune out the snickers from his surrounding classmates, ‘What the fuck was that?’ He thought to himself, trying to regain his composure, ‘Okay... just focus.’

But as he stared at the problems on his exam, he noticed small drops of water appearing on his paper. He raised an eyebrow as more drops appeared on his test, smudging his work.

“What the...?” He whispered, “Sweat?” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, “What the fuck?” He said aloud, again disrupting the class.

“Richard!” The professor slammed her book down.

“Dude, just back off.” Richard snapped back. He heard a few audible gasps from his fellow students and his face flushed red, “Bro, that came out wrong. I don't get why I'm sounding like this, bro.” His face flushed red again and he suddenly stood up and headed towards the door, “I gotta take a breather.” He said. But as he approached the door he could feel the same heaviness in his stomach, “No, no no... buuuuuuuuurrrrrpppppppp.”

He slammed the door behind him, and fled from the classroom.

_________

Richard walked across campus as fast as he could. He needed to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. Or maybe to a doctor. But wherever he went, he just needed to be somewhere private. The young man wiped some sweat from his brow and cringed.

“No way dude, I’m like a waterfall.” He whispered, “Oh fuck, look at my pits.” Dark pit stains rapidly formed beneath his arms and continued to grow larger. Richard stopped in his tracks and raised his arms, taking a deep whiff of his own stench, “Huhuhuh that’s ripe, dude.” He chuckled to himself. It was the judgmental stares of nearby students that broke him out of his train of thought, “I’m sorry!” He whispered, blushing deeply, “I didn’t mean to... burrrrppppppppp.” His face reddened even more.

“Haha nice one bro!” A nearby jock laughed.

“Yeah dude! Been dropping bombs all day.” Richard replied with a grin. He quickly shook his head and ran towards his dorm room, ignoring the jock's attempt for a fist bump.

_________

Richard slammed the door to his dorm room shut and threw his backpack across the room. At this point, he didn’t know what to do. His shirt had soaked through from his sweat and a new manly musk was clinging to his sweaty body.

“Okay, I just gotta go to an urgent care.” Richard whispered.

He walked over to his dresser to change his shirt, and he quickly stripped out of his soaked t-shirt. But when he looked down at his body, something wasn’t right.

“Yo dude, since when did I get abs?” Richard mumbled, “Oh shit, look at my boulders.” He rubbed a hand across his large shoulders, giving them a squeeze and chuckling dumbly, “Huhuhuh why do I need a shirt?” He flexed his bicep and watched as it bulged with strength, “Woah fuck look at that!” He watched as his bicep seemed to get a bit larger too, “Dude... that’s buuuuuuurrppppppp.” Richard chuckled, “Fuckin’ new protein powder. Makin’ my gassy as fuck.”

His plans to visit an Urgent Care were quickly leaving his mind. Instead, he continued to focus on his various poses, and amused himself with each growing muscle. Richard walked over to the couch and fell back onto it, grabbing his phone and posting a new picture of himself on his social media. All the white, he absentmindedly scratched as his massive chest, which was starting to sprout a light dusting of hairs. He grinned as various likes started appearing on his picture, and he felt his cock start to grow. He grabbed his massive cock and started stroking it, moaning with each tug.

“Fuck yeah.” He moaned, “Fuck people would be lucky to ride this dick.” He grinned, “Dick’s dick huhuhuh.” A knock at his door broke his concentration and he groaned with disappointment. His cock remained tented in his pants, but he didn’t care. He opened the door, casually scratching his hairy pit, “Oh fuck, Thomas dude! What’s up?”

Thomas grinned, “Richard?” He asked, “Wow.”

“Impressed broski? And don’t call me Richard. More of a Richy.” Richy grinned, “Come in, bro! Look, I’m like totally sorry about earlier. All that nerd stuff that you like. Didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“You don’t have to worry, Richy. You made it quite clear that you’re not a nerd anymore.” Thomas chuckled, “You wanted to be a stupid jock, well now you are.” 

Richy raised an eyebrow, “Stupid jock?” Something about that wasn’t right. Stupid jock? The words kept echoing in his head, “Stupid jock?” He repeated again, scratching his head, “That’s not... I...” Richy grabbed his head and looked at his friend. For just a second, the dull, dumb look in Richy’s eye was replaced by a knowing intelligence. A horrific realization evident in them. But it quickly lost its spark and his eyes dulled, “Huhuhuh yeah, I guess I’m pretty stupid. But doesn’t really matter when you’ve got this.” He grabbed his bulge and smirked, “Dude, you see that pic I posted? You think I could make it on OnlyFans?”

Thomas nodded, “Yes, I think you could. But I ought to go.”

“No wait bro!” Richy said, blocking his path to the door, “I mean... I know you always say you hate jocks. But its ‘cause you’re into us, right bro?” Thomas’s face reddened, betraying his secret, “So like...” Richy smirked and walked up to Thomas, who’s own khakis were now tented, “You wanna star in my first OnlyFans vid?”

_________

Richy stretched his hands above his head and sniffed his ripe pits. His dick twitched at the smell and he grinned. It’d been a few weeks since he posted his first video to OnlyFans. And yet here he was again, rewatching his first video: “buff jock fucks gay nerd.” Without fail, it always made his dick hard. And even though he posted several more videos since then, he always found himself coming back to this one. But even a masterpiece gets dull and Richy pulled out his phone. He ignored several horrified texts from his parents asking why he dropped out of school, as well as deleting multiple invites to interview for grad programs, whatever those were. Instead he found Thomas’s contact info.

“Hey bro.” He messaged, “Be at my place ASAP.” He took a quick selfie and threw in a few eggplant emojis to get his point across.

Afterwards, he tossed his phone somewhere on his bed. He didn’t need to see Thomas’s response. Sure he was stupid, be he did know one thing. No one, especially not Thomas, could resist this dick. And the knock on his door not even ten minutes later was all the confirmation he needed.

[neos127]

hot things jungwon does

yang jungwon x gn!reader; genre. established relationship, fluff, hcs cw. kinda messy bc this is a thought dump!

i. eye contact

the type of eye contact where you can practically feel him staring into your soul. as soon as you start talking, you have jungwon’s undivided attention. his expression will be so serious too, his eyes narrowing as he looks directly into yours. it makes you squirm everytime and you tell him to stop looking at you like that. “like what?” he asks with a smirk.

ii. dancing

watching him dance is absolutely addictive. you often wonder how he can move his body in certain ways, and teasingly ask jungwon if he even has any bones. him dancing to ‘chaconne’ and ‘criminal love’ makes your body have a physical reaction and you can’t help but giggle watching his fancams. the way he does certain moves is so hot and you’ll replay your favorite parts several times.

iii. protective

jungwon is so protective over you. he isn’t crazy about it, but he just wants to make sure you’re safe. if the two of you are walking the streets together, he’ll silently move towards whatever side the road is on. if you’re in a crowded place, he’ll grip onto the back of your shirt or place a hand on your back. glares at guys who try to flirt with you and drags you behind his back, not wanting them to get any closer.

iv. shares everything with you without a second thought

sharing things with you is like breathing for jungwon. he doesn’t even think before he’s passing you a piece of his dinner. you want a bite of his dessert? jungwon will happily give you the whole thing. if he sees you shivering even slightly, he’s already slipping his hoodie off of his head and helping you put it on. it’s the bare minimum— but anything jungwon does is attractive to you.

v. bites your lip when kissing

jungwon thinks it’s amusing to bite your lip when he’s kissing you. you’ll always make some cute noise because of it and jungwon loves that. accidentally made your lip bleed once but continued kissing you without a problem. “you’re not actually a vampire, dude.” you whine, wiping away the small drop of blood that landed on his bottom lip.

vi. always pulls you onto his lap

sometimes he just loves holding you. it’s always an innocent gesture, but the way he’ll grab your thighs from behind to make you fall back onto his lap makes your brain short circuit. he also caresses your leg as well, which causes you to feel even more flustered. if you try to stand up, he won’t let you, his grip on your body strong and his eyes pleading you to stay

[sleepingdead96]

Prepared for Anything

Part 2, MasterPost

Danny stared at the ceiling, bored, as the creepy clown laughed manically at a camera. Danny hadn’t been in this dimension for two minutes, (he’d portalled directly into Joker’s hideout) before he was promptly tied to a chair. He could get out of it easily.

Thing was, there were others here, restrained more thoroughly than Danny. They wore colourful, armoured suits and were obviously the vigilantes/heroes of this. . .place—Gotham? Danny’d heard the name mentioned a few times now—This Freakshow wannabe was obviously one of their villains. 

Danny had been hoping someone would show up without having to draw attention to himself. What was this dimension’s stance on halfas? Or ghosts?

But no one had come yet, it had been an hour, and he was getting stiff from sitting here so long without being able to move his limbs.

Danny heaved a loud, exasperated sigh-groan at the ceiling. The guy, face-painted like a toddler who’d gotten into their parent’s make-up, suddenly stopped monologuing. 

Good. It was getting annoying.

“Are you done yet?” Danny complained much like the impatient teenager he was. “I’ve got crap to do, wrap it up, would you?”

Danny came here to explore. He was not exploring. He should be exploring and it was all this dude’s fault.

Danny supposed he could go all ghost on him and bounce, but he came all this way. It wasn’t much of hassle, but still. Danny was stubborn. He knew this.

The warehouse was silent. The creepo wasn’t talking, anymore, he wasn’t doing anything, and Danny deigned to lift his head from where it’d been thrown back on the chair.

The costumed people were looking at him in horror.

Danny wasn’t sure why.

The walking fashion disaster began to cackle with condescending amusement.

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Danny ignored the man’s delve into something about Danny’s impending doom, or threatening him with pain, and something, something, something. Something about broken this, burning that, yada, yada yada, when Danny got an idea.

Behind the chair where his hands were bound, knowing no one was behind him, he quietly broke the ropes on his wrists. The vigilantes—a red one with bandoliers crossing over his chest and one who wore a largely grey and black suit with an R emblem on the left side of his chest—were valiantly trying to dissuade the psycho to leave Danny alone, who now realized the said psycho was coming towards him, carrying a crowbar.

How original.

The Joker, as Danny heard someone call him at some point, he’s not sure when, leaned in close. His breath stank. 

Danny made a disgusted face. “Do you not brush your teeth at all? Gross, dude.”

“You won’t be mak—“

Danny punched him in the jaw. The guy went down pretty easily. 

Danny made an annoyed noise as he bent down to untie his ankles from the chair legs. He muttered to himself. “Stupid villains, always gotta get in the way, why can’t I just have one nice vacation, huh?”

“How did you do that?” 

Danny looked up at the red one. “Do what?” He asked, standing and stretching with satisfying pops.

“Get free.”

“Oh. . .” Danny reached into his hoodie sleeve and pulled out a small hand saw. He guessed he coulda used a knife, but it was the first thing he'd thought of.

The guy spluttered. “You just keep a saw in your sleeve?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the P. No need for them to know he can make portals. As tiny as needed. “You guys want help out of those, or what?” Danny gestured to the chains keeping the two bound on the floor.

“No, Joker’s goons outside probably has the keys, we have back-up. . . .coming. . . .where did you get that?”

Danny didn’t miss a beat as he crouched to get a grip on the chain with the large pair of bolt cutters. “Ah, ya know, never leave home without a good pair of bolt cutters.” He offered. The room they were in was pretty bare, saying he found it “lying around” wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty obvious.

“That is absurd.” The younger one said. “Where did they come from?”

Danny snapped the red one free and moved onto the angry eyebrows one. How did they still emote so well through those masks? “Just had it on hand.”

“But wh—“

“Oh look! There ya go! I gotta go, nice being held hostage with y'all.” Danny ignored their calls for him, climbing out of the nearest window and disappearing.

[cozage]

hii can i request silent treatment with sabo, law, and ace? like the one you wrote before! i love reading it sm i wanted to see how they (sabo, law, and ace) would react if they received/ gave silent treatment !

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Ace Cw: everyone involved being a bit of an orange flag Total word count: 4k

Silent Treatment

Sabo

Oh sweet sweet Sabo. He didn’t even realize his offhanded joke in the meeting had offended you. He didn’t think about how you and Koala were the only ones not laughing about the jokes the officers said. He didn’t notice how you and Koala immediately left the room fuming as soon as you could.

He had to run to catch up with you after the meeting, and you showed no sign of slowing your pace. 

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get to you. “I’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Do whatever you want,” you shot back. “The men know best after all, right?” 

He must not have heard the sarcasm and anger laced in your voice, because he just gave you a wink and a peck on the cheek and ran off with some of the other leaders. 

Koala gave you a side smirk. “They’re clueless, I swear,” she laughed. 

“We never get the credit,” you grumbled. “I can’t do it anymore, Koala! I’m so fed up with this!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“So many times!” you cried. “We’re treated the same professionally but socially-”

“It’s a commanders club,” she finished for you. “Maybe we should make a separate club?”

“Rule One: No talking to them until they apologize.”

Sabo was surprised to find that you weren’t waiting for him in bed when he got home. You weren’t in the spare room, either. 

He finally found a note on the kitchen that was short and to the point. “Sleeping at Koala’s.”

Confusing, but he was slightly drunk, so he opted to go to bed and figure it out in the morning. 

When morning came, he was disappointed to find that the coffee hadn't started. He went to grab his overnight oats from the fridge, but you hadn’t made that for him either, which was strange. Usually when you stayed at Koala’s, you prepped all that stuff ahead of time. But last night you hadn’t. He’d have to ask you about that before the meeting this morning. 

He arrived late to the meeting since the coffee took longer than he thought it would and he had to make breakfast. You were already sitting when he got there, you and Koala talking to each other quietly. Normally you saved a se at for him, but today all of the seats had been filled, and he was left with one at the end of the table.

He kept trying to catch your eye, but you refused to look at him. He finally caught Koala’s at one point, and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but she simply rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dragon. 

If Koala was mad at him, that meant you were mad at him. He racked his brain the entire meeting, trying to think of what he would’ve done to make you upset. But he couldn’t think of anything. 

He tried to catch you after the meeting, but you and Koala made a beeline for the door and ignored his calls after you. 

“Just let them go, dude,” Jiron said to him. “Those two never want to hang out with us anyway.”

Shit. It all clicked together. The jokes made in the meeting yesterday, him going out with the boys without asking if you and Koala had wanted to come. 

“Maybe if you treated them with a little respect, Jiron, they would.” Sabo’s words came out in a low, threatening hiss. 

“Look, I know you’re close with them,” Jiron said. “But they’re not very nice to us either. They’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sabo edged, his blood starting to boil. 

“Well…bitchy.”

Sabo wasn’t really sure what happened next. He didn’t remember doing anything, but the next moment, Jiron was on the ground holding his nose. Blood was leaking out through his fingers onto the ground. 

“Don’t use that word to describe either of them ever again. Got it?” Sabo growled the words, looking around the room. 

“What the FUCK, Sabo?” Jiron cried, but Sabo was already pacing toward the door, desperate to get to you as soon as possible. 

He caught up with you and Koala quickly and jumped between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your alls shoulders. You tensed at his touch, but once you realized it was him, you just scoffed and shrugged him off. 

“Go away, Sabo,” Koala sneered as she shoved him away.

“I’m sorry!” Sabo jumped in front of you all, trying to block your path. “Please, I’m sorry I laughed at those jokes yesterday and even made one myself. That was really shitty of me.”

“Sabo,” you sighed, shaking your head.

He fell to his knees and looked up at you, begging. “And please teach me how to use the coffee machine! And make overnight oats! I’ll make it from now on. I’m starving and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you giggle, and you took his hands and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, you laced your fingers through his. “You’ll really make the oats?”

“If you want me to.”

“Deal.” You smiled, and gave him a soft kiss to seal his promise. “Can’t go back on it now.”

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Koala pouted.

“Oh,” Sabo suddenly got very bashful. “I punched Jiron, I think.”

“You WHAT?!”

Law

You bounded into Law’s office, excited to tell him the news. “Law! Shachi just caught-”

“Hang on,” Law mumbled, flicking through his book. He was always looking for something. You were always interrupting him. 

After a few minutes, he looked up at you. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Shachi just caught an electric eel! A massive one!”

The moments the words left your mouth, Law was back to looking back at his book. “Interesting. Is that all?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“Hang on,” he mumbled again, already lost on another tangent in his head. 

“Don’t worry about it.” You left the room before he had a chance to respond, though you doubt he even noticed your absence.

He got like this sometimes, and you tried not to get hurt by his sudden coldness. It’s just what happened when you were with the Surgeon of Death. A few hours later you had all but forgotten the encounter. There was an island coming up, and you ran to alert him.  

“Law!” You slammed his door open, ecstatic. “Law! Guess-”

“Do you mind?!” His loud and hostile voice made you take a step back. “I’m trying to do something and you keep interrupting me!”

You pushed down the lump that was in your throat, but you could feel your lip trembling, threatening to give you away. You couldn’t look weak in front of him. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, rushing out of the room.

Shachi found you first, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I told you, you’re too good for him! Maybe you should give him a taste of what it’s like to lose you.”

“Like how?”

A devious grin grew on Shachi’s face. “Silent treatment.”

“Hey captain.” Bepo peeked in the door nervously, knowing there was tension about to be caused. “We’re heading off to the island.”

Law looked up from his book, confused. “Island?” You always told him when you were about to approach an island.

“We docked about a half hour ago,” Shachi chimed in from the hallway.

Law could hear something in his voice. “Where’s Y/N? Are they going?” 

“They're going,” Shachi said, grabbing the door handle. 

“Well, can you-” Law’s words were cut off by Shachi slamming the door shut. 

That was Law’s first indication of something stirring. Shachi always took your side during squabbles, and he seemed livid today. 

Law meant to go talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he needed to apologize for, but he knew it was something. But then he found an interesting article about poisons, and he got sucked into reading. Before he knew it, the sun had set and he had to turn on a lamp to keep reading.

Shachi, on the other hand, kept your mind busy. He took you out on the town, dragging you into every clothing shop and making you try anything on that even might look good on you. He pulled you into dessert shops and trinket stores and forced you to go on a beach walk with him. He was your best friend for a reason.

“What if he doesn’t apologize?” you asked him, watching the sun sink. “Then you don’t talk to him, no matter what,” Shachi responded.

Law was still shut away in his office when you returned, and your heart felt a soft ache. He hadn’t even noticed your absence. 

“Come on,” Shachi said gently. “You can sleep in our room.”

“I should go talk to-”

“No,” Shachi said firmly. “He always does this. He needs to learn his lesson.” So you slept in the crew bunkhouse for the first time in months. Nobody asked questions, everyone just accepted it. You suspected Shachi had filled them in. 

It took Law a few minutes to realize what was wrong. He had come into his room silently and brushed his teeth in the dark before bed like always. It was quieter than usual. And when he went to lay down, the bed was still made. As he pulled the covers back, he couldn’t help but notice how unnatural it felt. But he couldn’t place why.

It was too cold, he realized. And he quickly flicked on a light in the room to find it empty. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where were you? Had you gone missing? Had the Navy or someone else captured you to turn you in for a bounty? 

He quickly walked to the shared common room, where he found Penguin and Ikkaku sitting. “Did you go to the island?” he asked, scanning the room. It was too late for you to be up, but he had to double check. 

They both nodded, and Law tried not to panic. “Did Y/N come back?”

“Yeah,” Penguin affirmed. “We had dinner with them and Shachi, and we all walked back together.” He gave Ikakku a nervous glance before continuing. “I think they’re sleeping in the shared bunkhouse.”

“What?” Law hissed. “Why?” But Ikkaku and Penguin both shrugged, and Law turned and stormed out the door, making a beeline for the bunkhouse. 

He flung the door open, searching for you. He quickly found you in the bunk below Shachi, and he walked over to where you were sleeping. 

“What are you doing?” Law said, shaking you lightly. “Come to bed.”

You groaned in your sleep and pushed him away. You never slept well in the bunkhouse. You were a light sleeper, any type of noise made you wake up. 

“Y/N,” Law said, shaking you harder. “Let’s go.” 

“Law?” Your eyes finally opened, your voice full of exhaustion and sleep. Once you realized it was him, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Silent Treatment. 

Law could see the hurt and anger in your eyes when you recognized him, and his heart constricted when you turned away from him. 

“Can we talk about what’s going on? Please?” he begged. He was trying not to disturb others, but you could hear them beginning to stir. 

You almost caved, but Shachi came to your rescue. He hopped down from his bed and put himself between you and Law. “You can talk in the morning,” Shachi said. “Y/N wants to be here, so let them sleep here.”

Law tried to look past Shachi to you. “I know you can’t stand sleeping here. Just come to bed. Please.”

“Captain.” Shachi’s voice was on the verge of dangerous defiance. “Leave.”

Law stared at him, not sure what to make of Shachi’s protectiveness over you. His gaze was almost challenging, but Shachi refused to back down. He could hear the others in the room starting to stir, and he knew he was only embarrassing you, so he conceded. “I’m coming back first thing.”

“That’s fine,” Shachi said. “If Y/N wants to talk then, you’re welcome to have a conversation.”

Law slept horribly that night. His fingers kept reaching out for you. The bed felt too big, the covers weren’t warm enough. He finally got up and started reading. He was too anxious to sleep.

So were you. You were tossing and turning every 20 minutes, trying to get comfortable. You couldn’t sleep without Law’s heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But Shachi made you promise to never admit it. 

Law was sitting in the hallway outside the door when you went to get breakfast. You almost tripped over him, and when he saw you, he immediately stood to his feet. His tired gold eyes pierced into your soul, and you could see he was in rough shape.  “Can we talk now?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but you could hear it loud and clear. 

You gave a panicked look to Shachi, but he only gave you a smile and a small nod, encouraging you on. 

You gave Law a nod in agreement. You still weren’t ready to talk to him, but you could listen. 

“I did something yesterday,” Law said, closing the door to his office as you walked in. “I snapped at you when you were excited about something. I prioritized my studies over you and I’m sorry.”

You watched him closely, making sure his words were genuine. Law had a tendency to apologize when he knew you wanted to hear it, not when he actually felt bad about it. 

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he continued. “I tend to get obsessed with my work, and my relationships hurt because of it. And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need you to tell me when I’m hurting you. Because I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. So please…tell me. Yell at me. Smack me. Just don’t…don’t disappear on me. Please.”

Your heart melted at his words. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And you won’t get mad?”

“I promise I won’t.”

You gave him a mischievous grin. “Even if I smack you really hard?” 

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying that,” he groaned.

You giggled and gave him a soft kiss. “Too late, Captain.” You rested your head on his shoulder, his familiar scent making your eyes start to droop. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Bed would be nice,” he mumbled into your hair, already pulling you toward his private room. 

Ace

Fifteen people in the bar, and your boyfriend had flirted with every single one. 

Friendly. That’s what he always called it. He was just being friendly. But you saw the way those commoners looked at him, the lust in their eyes. Getting with a pirate would be thrilling, they’d whisper when his back was turned. He never seemed to hear them talk about him, but he’d always be around them. Convenient. 

“You shouldn’t be bothered,” he’d always say. “You know that I’ll always choose you.”

But you were bothered. You hated the pit of jealousy that formed in your gut every time a new person walked up to him. They were always so touchy, rubbing their hands along his shoulders, and the daring ones would even venture down his chest. Like he was their plaything. But he didn’t belong to them. 

He was yours. Just not in this bar. Or any bar. 

Maybe it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were certain he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of you flirting with another man. 

Your eyes met an attractive man across the bar, and you decided it would be a good theory to test. 

Seeing what you were about to do, Marco grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down into the seat. “Wait,” he muttered.

“Stay out of it, Marco,” you hummed softly. Your voice was pleasant, but there was a threatening undertone to it. 

“If you want to make him jealous that will end in a fight and change nothing except the intensity of your makeup sex, go for it.” 

Your cheeks brightened at his words, and you finally broke your eye contact with the random man to look at the commander. “Marco-!”

“But if you want to make him panic and stay by your side from now on, listen.” Marco’s voice got low. “Ace looks over here at least once every five minutes. He’s checking on you. I’m guessing jealous sex is his-“

“MARCO!”

“Anyway, I guarantee if you vanish, it’ll make him sweat. Just go back to the Moby Dick, and crash in my room for the night if you want. Give him a bit of the silent treatment. Don’t lean into what he wants. Push away, and I know he’ll stop.”

“How?”

“Because he’s head over heels for you, dummy. Even right now, all he wants is your attention. Don’t give it to him and you’ll cut the bad habits.”

It was worth a shot, and you wouldn’t have to talk to any sleazy guys to test the theory. 

“You’re the best, Marco.” You flashed him a grin and stood, giving Ace one last glance. “But never talk about my sex life again.”

“Oh please,” Marco scoffed. “You have no idea what the commanders talk about during shower time, do you?”

Your eyes widened in horror, but Marco just laughed. “Relax! It was a joke!”

“It better be!” you hissed. “Or I’ll skin that boy alive.”

You gave one more glance to Ace. He was caught up in some conversation with a woman, giving her most of his attention. You rolled your eyes, jealousy panging in your chest, and slipped out the door. 

The first two times Ace glanced over at your table, he wasn’t worried about your absence. But the third time, he started to get a bad feeling. You had been gone for too long. 

He wandered back to the table, trying to appear casual and unbothered. “Hey Marco,” he said, bringing him another beer. “Where’s Y/N?”

Marco knew he was using the beer as a bribe, but took it anyway. “Not sure, they walked out about thirty minutes ago. Hasn’t been back since.”

“What?” Ace could feel himself sobering up, worried about your safety. “Where’d they go?”

“They seemed tired,” Marco said, watching Ace carefully. 

“But they always tell me when they’re going home,” Ace grumbled, looking around. “I’m gonna head back too. Kind of over this whole scene.”

Marco chuckled, reading through Ace’s words, but he didn’t say anything further. He watched Ace walk out the door and back to the ship without so much as a goodbye to anyone in the bar, and he knew his plan would work. 

Ace tried not to panic when you weren’t in his room. Sometimes you slept in other places, like the common room or the bunkhouse. Especially on drunken nights, you always seemed to find some random place to pass out. But you always told him when you were going to bed. 

He didn’t sleep well. He wandered around the ship several times, trying to appear unbothered. But he was searching every nook and cranny, desperately looking for where you had landed yourself. 

He didn’t see you again until the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Marco and a few others. You were completely surrounded by people, but Ace stopped by your seat on the way to the breakfast line. 

“Hey.” He touched your shoulder and you stiffened at the contact, which was odd. Normally you leaned into his touch. You always looked up at him full of love, silently begging him for a morning kiss. But this morning you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Where’d you end up last night?” he asked. 

“My room,” Marco answered for you, laughing. “That sure was a shock to walk into!”

You laughed, shoving Marco slightly. You still refused to acknowledge Ace, though it was starting to get difficult. “Hey Thornton, you left shortly before me. Where did you end up?”

“I swear I could’ve made it back to my room if I wanted to!” he bellowed, and everyone laughed. 

“Right!” you laughed. “I bet the deck all night sure was cozy!”

You were ignoring him. Ace was sure of it. Had something happened between you and Marco…no. The two of you had only ever been friends, so close you might as well have been siblings. 

He finally left you alone, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out what had made you so upset since the last time he spoke to you. 

“You flirt too much,” Marco said, joining him in line. 

Ace looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wondering why Y/N is ignoring you, right?” Ace shrugged, trying not to show that it was bothering him too much, but Marco clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Drop the act, man. You should care. And I know you do. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears trying to figure it out.”

“I just like to talk to people,” Ace defended. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is you don’t just talk. You flirt.” Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing, dude, and I don’t blame you. But you’ve got a good thing. Don’t lose it because you want to…talk.”

Ace frowned, annoyed with being called out so personally, but he thought about it while he ate his breakfast alone. He knew how much you hated the way he treated local islanders when you all went out. But he loved the jealous, possessive side of you. He loved watching you fight for him, even if you were fighting with him. 

He found you lounging on the deck, reading a magazine. He walked over to you and sat on the edge of the lounger. He saw your eyes flick up and then immediately back to the magazine, and he could’ve sworn the air temperature dropped 10 degrees. 

“Hey,” he cooed, his hands dancing up your legs, finding the spots he knew you were ticklish. 

You tried to move your legs, but there weren't many places to escape to without getting up and walking away. 

“Please talk to me,” he pouted. He leaned against you, pushing your magazine out of the way and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. 

You turned your head away from him, trying your best to ignore him even though he was physically on top of you, pinning you down. 

“Pleaseeeee,” Ace begged. His hands came up and playfully squished your cheeks, and you struggled to keep a straight face. He was so good at making you smile. 

“Go away,” you finally said, trying to push him off of you. It was useless, but you had to try. 

“You speak!” Ace cheered, and you rolled your eyes. You were tired of his antics. You wanted an apology. 

“I’m so lonely without you, babe,” Ace sang offkey, his fingers tracing along your shoulders. “Please come back to me, my loveeeee.”

You didn’t react, but you could feel your vision starting to get blurry. He was too stubborn, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep being humiliated and forced to watch Ace live the best of both worlds. 

“I’m sorry,” Ace finally whispered when he saw your eyes starting to get watery. “I know I’m a little insane.”

You finally looked at him, still silent. Waiting for more. 

“And I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you for so long,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. So no more flirting with random people in bars. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice breaking. 

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling into your chest and hugging you tight. He’d hold you close and never let you slip away again.

[heechwe]

the boy is mine | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.3k ୨୧ genre: smut ୨୧ tags: secret relationship au, semi-fwb, idol!reader, idol!heeseung, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, love, etc.), unprotected sex. ୨୧ synopsis: A company costume party is not the perfect place for your relationship with Heeseung to be exposed. So, like rational people, you both decide to have a rendezvous in a closet when jealousy rears its ugly head, if only to prove to each other who you belong to. ➸ banner created by @hobeemin ♡

A costume party for hundreds of celebrities was as ideal as expected. The lingering, dramatic stare-offs between exes with bad blood created a thin layer of tension for some partygoers. The whispers of rumored hookups in the bathrooms at parties prior to this one caused an onslaught of prying eyes. With every motion of an idol, there was a microscope ready to catch every moment worthy of gossip.

Heeseung kept to himself since the beginning of the night, only conversing with his fellow members rather than other idols and leadership teams. It wasn’t that the guy was rude, not at all; he just didn’t focus on paying attention to the engagements of his colleagues. His job was to make music, perform, and then live his life. Once he was off the clock, nobody but Heeseung knew about what went on in his bed.  He preferred it that way.

“Come on, Seung. We gotta try and find some action tonight.” Jay tips his cowboy hat in his friend’s direction. The Toy Story costume did not suit him, and Heeseung made sure to tell him so when he bought it as the guys kept to the superhero theme they picked out. But, against the better judgment of his seniors, Jay tends to do what he wants. And tonight, it’s clear where his intentions lay.

“I’m not feeling it,” Heeseung responds, shrugging and drinking the beer in his glass, some of the liquid dripping onto his cowl. The plastic Batman mask itches Heeseung’s face, but it keeps him from being picked out immediately by randoms in the room.

“Seriously? Don’t be such a wet blanket, dude.”

”If you want pussy, go talk to Jake or Hoon, man.” The two aforementioned boys were chatting up some girls from a group under Pledis. With their respective Spiderman and Iron Man masks off, it’s easy to discern their place in the crowd of people. At the bar in the corner with their conversation partners, they’re on a mission to end All Hallow’s Eve with a bang.

Before Jay can respond, his eyes go wide in recognition and a smile spreads across his face. “Ah, I get it now. You’ve been waiting on her.”

Heeseung’s head turns, and he feels all the blood in his body go straight to his core. In a Catwoman costume, completely clad in a latex-coated suit and red lipstick, he may go insane and take you on the floor in front of everyone. Even in the mask that hides half of your face, he can see how your eyes darken when you capture his attention, the borders of his mouth watering at your figure.

He downs what’s left of his alcohol and readdresses his friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

”Sure.” When Jay sees you continue your path towards Heeseung, he makes his exit in the direction of the bar. “Have fun and use condoms!”

Heeseung wants to slap Jay silly for saying his parting words so loudly, but the feeling dissipates seeing you so close. 

When you first met, it was a strictly platonic environment between friendly coworkers. It wasn’t in his mind then to progress to whatever your relationship was now, a partnership that dances the lines between a sexual agreement and a full-blown relationship. But now, the feelings in his chest are ready to explode in the tiny banquet hall the company rented for the party. He wants to kiss you senseless, smear your lipstick on his face, and press his face to other parts of you, but he knows that would expose both of you to extreme scrutiny.

It was not out of the bounds of your contract to date or sleep with coworkers under the same label. Still, it was extremely frowned upon by your peers. Keeping your relationship a secret was not difficult though, burner accounts and private meetups both yours and Heeseung’s best friends.

Heeseung tries to keep his sexual appetite at bay when you finally make it to him.  You pose with one hip jutting out, causing your whip to jiggle at your side.

“Selina Kyle, right?” He asks rhetorically, a smirk on his lips.

“Thanks for noticing, Master Wayne.” Your British accent causes Heeseung to emit a chest-rumbling laugh. “You look handsome.”

“And you look…” Although you’re nestled in your corner of the expansive room, he knows he can’t outright describe all the ways he wants to tear the costume off of you. Hands, teeth, the list is endless. But he settles with a simple answer that hopefully says just enough. “Incredible.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause of the spandex.”

His eyebrow quirks, unsurprised you could tell exactly what was on his mind. Six months of fucking made it easy to discern a person’s words from their tells. “I’m saying it because you always look incredible. The spandex is just a bonus.”

The tension between you is electric. Even prior to the first time you slept with him, the signs were there. You felt the buzz under your skin at his presence even if he said nothing and it was ever too brief. His gaze and body would linger during practices or studio sessions,  his being too close but not close enough if you were honest with yourself.

Heeseung tries to be discreet as he attempts to grab your hand under the cover of shadows. You shuck him off in the presence of so many eyes. “Not here, Hee.” You frown, wanting nothing more than to feel his fingers in between yours, his warmth bringing an unexplainable comfort. “You know they’ll talk.”

“They already are.” Heeseung practically hears the bullshit discussions between the surrounding people. Can you believe that? They probably picked out their outfits together. How can they be so obvious?

Your initial confidence is dampened by the thoughts that Heeseung knows you both share, but he shrugs off the chitchat about you both that could be occurring nearby. “Matching costumes can just be a coincidence.”

“Is that what they’re calling it?” You laugh sadly,  knowing you have to leave his side to avoid suspicions. The night may not be over, but you can’t stay too close unless you want to bring everything out in the open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Heeseung can’t keep his focus on anything but you, conversing and laughing with gentlemen from other groups under the same label. The idiots came up with some Cowboys and Aliens-inspired costumes, and the flirting taking place between you and these men makes Heeseung scoff. How could you be impressed by a guy with a cowboy hat on? 

The interactions occurring in front of Heeseung make his skin crawl, the image of you smiling for guys who aren’t him hitting like a stone in his gut. He knows he’s not your boyfriend, and no labels were ever discussed at the start of your relationship, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. And his feelings aren’t curbed by the alcohol in his cup.

Unable to avoid his distaste anymore, he excuses himself from his conversation with the random executives who bothered him ten minutes ago to saunter over to your spot in the banquet hall. “Excuse me, gentleman. I need to speak to Catwoman for a second.”

You barely say goodbye to Jeongin and Yeongbo before Heeseung takes you by the arm and into the hallway of the building. He looks around in rapid motion, and finds an open door to shove the two of you into. The makeshift closet provides enough space for the two of you, but not much.

Heeseung takes the cowl off of his head and throws it to his side, his eyes dark due to more than just the black paint around the upper portion of his face. “Heeseung, what’re you—“

He suddenly knocks you back into the wall of the closet and slams his mouth into yours, his tongue and teeth colliding with yours frantically. Your desire spikes when he palms on of your breasts over your costume, the latex wrinkling under his touch, “Fuck, seeing you with other guys drives me insane.”

You scoff, a smirk on your lips. “Like I was happy to see you talking to Yunjin earlier.”

“Don’t be like that.” His eyes glint with mischief at your response, but it melts into pure sincerity that makes your heart kickflip. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“Likewise.” You nip his lips and knock him down to his knees. Before he can catch his breath, you lower the front zipper at the center of your costume and shrug it off of your arms, revealing the black-lace set covering the places Heeseung knows by heart. “Now touch me.”

“Jesus.” He hooks his thumbs into the sides of your underwear to yank down, careful to not rip the fabric. “Did you plan this or something?” 

“You’re the one that pulled me into this room, baby.”

Heeseung smirks and presses a kiss to the center of your midriff, testing and teasing before going in for the kill. He nuzzles his face against your clit, kissing the bundle with adoration.

In the end, when he first saw you walking over to him at the start of the night, you both had to have known it would end like this, lost in each other and away from the rest of the world’s opinions and influence. Fuck them, Heeseung thinks. If their scrutiny meant he still found himself here, in between your legs and showing you how much you meant to him, he would take every comment with a smile.

“You taste incredible,” Heeseung whispers before passing his tongue against your slick folds, lapping up the wetness like he has never eaten anything better than you. “Just like always.”

“More,” you whisper, putting your hand under his chin to look at you. Even in the low light surrounding the small space, you can see the glint of his lips from your arousal. “I want more of you.”

“As you wish.” He stands up and kisses you deeply. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”

He lifts you with ease, his muscles expanding to reveal their form even in his bulky costume. You can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against yours later when you’re truly alone. It’s never been a one-and-done with him, going many rounds without stopping, whether you had expected it to go that long or not. His sex drive was unstoppable when he was in the mood, and it seemed whenever he was with you, he didn’t have any intentions of slowing down.

By the time he enters you, your body is already welcoming him from the previous foreplay. It makes him hiss with pleasure, the tone low to avoid any strangers  in the hallway from hearing and speculating. You capture his lips with yours, letting the extent of his moan be swallowed by your lips.

“Does it feel good, baby?” He asks, the whisper as loud as any groan he could emit. He releases one of your breasts from your bra, kneading the skin tenderly. “It’s fucking incredible for me, the way you stretch around me like this.”

“Fuck, you know you’re amazing, Hee.” You scratch your hands down his arms as he thrusts inside of you, the only available skin to take hold of.

“You’re all mine, you know that right?” He captures your eyes with his stare, going slower to punish you until you give him the answer he’s looking for. Fortunately for him, you don’t mind giving him what he wants if he does the same.

“Yes, all yours.” He resumes his original speed, sucking on the skin of your neck to create hickeys only he will know about. He loves to mark you and see your excruciating attempts to cover them up, makeup only going so far before friends and coworkers asked about what had occurred the night before.

If there’s anything as strong as Heeseung’s lust, it’s his pride. And he was as proud as he could be knowing he could claim you so well, even if only the two of you knew about it.

“Hee, I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding on tighter to reach your end faster.

“Do it baby, let go for me.” He kisses you again to swallow the deep moan that leaves your lips as you come. If only you could shout from the rooftops how good he made you feel. How he was as impeccable as a lover as he was a person, just to make every adoring fan and foe of his envious of your spot in his life.

Your body feels like lead by the time you come down from the high, Heeseung has to hold onto you harder so you don’t crumble onto the floor.

“Hold on tight.” He braces his body with one hand against the wall behind you as his pace speeds up to an exhausting degree. His muscles twitch as he releases inside of you, burying his face in your neck to not let the groan escape his throat. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling of him so vulnerable as he lets go.

You kiss him quickly when he raises his head, his eyes half-lidded. “For a cat, you didn’t scratch that hard,” he says, lips upturned.

“Fuck off.” Heeseung helps you get dressed again, zipping up the front of your costume for you while you try to wipe away the remnants of your red lipstick from his face to no avail. He’ll have to wipe it off in the bathroom before going back to the party, but you doubt he cares much. “Come to mine after?”

He feels foolish for thinking tonight may be the night to discuss your relationship status, but stranger things have happened. Like the bat and the cat joining forces, per say. He kisses you again before leaving you with, “Of course.”

@seokgyuu @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.

[hp-hcs]

OKOKOK SENTENCE 9

maybe theres a party in the slytherin common room and reader gets absolutely shitfaced

so being a flirty drunk they start chatting up a random dude (lets just say cormac bc hes always the bad guy) and boyfie theodore <3 gets jealous nd pulls them into his dorm nd hes all like

"I'll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else."

but reader still being drunk asf is just like :] snd gives him a kith and tells theo how pretty he is

poor baby just cant stay mad

HOW DARE YOU (be so cute?) — yandere! theodore nott x gn! drunk! hufflepuff! cutie patootie! reader

warnings: underage alcohol consumption, teen partying and drinking, threats of violence, aggression, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, general yandere tendencies

please enjoy my attempts to see how many ridiculous near-rhymes to ‘cormac’ i could come up with

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Yeah, yeah. Gryffindor’s playing Ravenclaw this weekend, you know. Maybe you can come out and…show your support.” The boy you’d been talking to all night leaned in close, resting one hand on your hip and letting the fingers of the other brush over your collarbone.

You honestly couldn’t be bothered to remember the boy’s name when you had a plastic cup of White Wyvern in your hand. It was something dumb, you remember that. Cognac, Corsac…?

“Y/n?” CarMax asked, trying to regain your attention. “You gonna cheer me on, sugar?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah,” you grinned, taking another sip of your drink. “I’ll get all decked out in red ‘n gold, jus’ for you.”

Tarmac grinned back and tightened his grip on your hip, tugging you a bit closer. “Maybe I oughtta give you my spare jersey to wear to the game then, huh? Wouldn’t you like to have my name across your back, little badger?”

(You shrugged noncommittally at that, not quite sure how to express to Shellac that literally no one wants the name Cornsack written across the back of their shirt.)

“Oh, I see. You want me to be your good luck charm, huh?” You teased, resting a hand on Callback’s forearm.

Rickrack smirked and opened his mouth to reply when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind.

“McLaggen. You’ve got two seconds to get your hands off my partner before I cut them off.”

Trashbag paled, hurriedly snatching his hands back and holding them up in surrender as he whirled around to face the newcomer. “Woah, woah- calm down, Nott,” he chuckled nervously. “We were just talking. No harm, no foul.”

Theodore stared back at him with an unamused, dead-eyed expression.

Hackeysack swallowed nervously. “Uh…yeah. Yeah. Well, I uh…I think I’m gonna get going now, Y/n. See ya at the game.”

Theo interrupted you before you could even respond. “I assure you, they won’t.”

And with that, Theodore wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders and dragged you away from Radioshack.

~~~

“What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“Don’t play dumb, darling, I’m not in the mood.” Theodore pushed you up against the wall of his dorm, one hand with a possessive death grip on your hip, and the other tightly grasping your jaw to hold it still. “I swear to Salazar, Y/n, I’ll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else.”

Whatever reaction Theodore was expecting you to have to those threatening words, you drunkenly giggling and kissing the tip of his nose was not one of them.

“You’re so pretty when you’re jelly, baby,” you gave him a dopey grin, reaching out to fix his rumpled shirt collar and smooth your hands across his chest. “You’re always so pretty.”

His heart melted and he let go of your jaw with a sigh, running his fingers through your hair and leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Merlin- what am I going to do with you, love?”

“Cuddle me?” You asked hopefully, a sweet pout on your face.

Theodore whined. “Shit, darlin’- I’m trying to be mad at you right now.”

“But cuddles, Teddybear!” You pouted further, tossing your arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. “Why would you wanna be mad when cuddles are an option?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He conceded slowly, resting both hands on your waist and rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. “Alright, fine. We can cuddle.”

You grin proudly at your incredible drunken convincing skills, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to clamber onto his bed. “C’mon!”

“Hold on, hold on,” he laughed. “I need to find you something to sleep in that isn’t your party clothes, love. Here,” he tossed something at you as he finished digging through his dresser.

You caught the item, unfolding it to reveal his Slytherin quidditch team captain jersey, complete with NOTT written out in a big bold font. You snorted and glanced up at him.

He gave you an innocent smile as he stripped out of his own clothes and climbed under the covers next to you. You rolled your eyes fondly, changing into his jersey and lying down beside him.

“Goodnight, darling,” he murmured against the top of your head as he wrapped his arms around you.

You grinned into his chest. “G’night, Teddybear.”

You fell asleep cuddling Theo, in Theo’s bed, in Theo’s clothes, with Theo’s name written across your back. And as long as you didn’t think too hard about how your boyfriend was absolutely going to kill Hazmat McLovin tomorrow, then all was quite well in the Slytherin dorms that night.

[gamblersdoll]

fwb, relationships, small angst, smut. long fic alert, not proof read, some fluff and some jokey jokes :p worked on this since 11 am.

katsuki bakugou didnt do the whole relationship thing. he felt like it was.. too intimate, too intense for him. a mere distraction for him and his career.

he thinks hes the only one who thinks that, seeing how shitty hair and pinky got together. the way that idiot and the emo chick were always together— fuck, chargebolt made her his whole life, which was fucking ridiculous.

he was more fond of the casual fucking, either going on tinder or hinge or whatever fucking apps there were. his account was booming though, several thousand of messages every five minutes. it annoyed him, shockingly.

“dude, can i get a fuckin’ minute of peace?” he barks out, silencing his phone and pinching his bridge.

“bro, you literally downloaded a dating slash fucking app, and you are the second pro hero.” kirishima reminded him, feet on the coffee table and swigging his soda. “get what you paid for.”

“get your fucking feet off’a my damn table, are you a caveman?”

he hated how kirishima was right, thinking he wouldnt get some kind of attention from an app when he was a hero, an attractive one at that.

so he deleted it, he’ll try going out more than possibly be stalked on a dating app.

he hated how every woman threw themselves at him when they saw him, he doesnt like that much attention. even in highschool, it overwhelms him. every girl in this damned bar was all over him.

well… excepting one. which so happened to be you, you just wanted to be left alone and drink to your hearts content. bakugou can clearly see that, and keeps an eye on your for a bit. later on though? oh he’s gotten loose enough to finally come up to you with ease.

“what’cha drinkin?” he asks, an arm supporting his weight on the bar table.. his cheeks were a slight pink, but he doesnt drink enough to make himself so tipsy or drunk.

“strawberry mimosa?” you chuckle, it literally says it on the can. “you must be blind or drunk to not be able to see that.”

an eyebrow of his quirks up, he’s intrigued. “i ain’t drunk, hon’.” he chuckles, “and do you even know who i am?”

“even if you are the ‘great explosion murder god, dynamight,’ yer off duty.” you snark back, hearing a baritone laugh come from his throat.

“and how would you know that?”

“well, pretty sure they wouldnt let you drink onna’ job.” you retort, turning to him now and crossing your legs. you hear a ‘yeah?’ and you nod.

“you sure, sweetheart?” he asks, taking another sip of his ‘oktober fest’. he sees you nod, and he hums. “how are you so sure?”

“pretty sure its common knowledge, but, common sense aint common no more.” you pull the final last word, dynamight nodding and tilting his drink to yours. you both clink your drinks together, holding the eye contact that he initiated.

the drive home was hell, the way he had struggled to keep his eyes on the road, your foot sliding across his lap and feeling him slowly get solid by the second.. you were a little vixen werent you? and to open the door without dropping you was more smooth than anything.

he practically ripped your clothes off, a nipple becoming his first victim and you arching into his mouth. he chuckled, youre so sensitive, arent you baby?

god, he hasnt had a good pussy in a long time.

his body molded into yours, kissing your neck and then lying you down and dragging his tongue down your supple skin until he got to your ankles, then back up to your nipples.

he never kissed your lips though, yet, he also didnt taste you.

the crack of the morning dawn showed its ass bright and early, your frame still within the bed and he was on the other side. interestingly, you both groan groggily and flutter your eyes open, head peering up and looking around.

lucky for you both, you werent hung over. you both peak over to each other.

one blink, two blinks, three blinks… bitch, say something!

“uh—“ you both say, redirecting your gazes and chuckling.

“you wanna go or me go?” he asks, watching you point to him and he nods. “did you like last night?” he asks, just a common courtesy to ask. he sometimes cared. it just depended on how you were in bed.

“i liked it,” you said, getting up and putting your panties on. “i did sleep with the second pro hero.”

he hums only.

“did you walk or drive to the bar?” he asks, pulling up ‘uber’ and looking to you. you mutter a ‘walk.’ and you give him the addresses to your house.

“you just randomly give out your address?” he asks, an eyebrow raised and hes hunched over.

“you just sleep with random people you dont know?”

he sucks his teeth, “you got such a mouth on you.” he taps on the confirmation button, “your uber will be here in thirty.”

“you seemed to love it last night, dynamight.” you glares at you for a second, you putting your dress back on and smirking. “but thank you, sir.”

sir?

you both make small talk, until the uber gets here and dynamight walks you to the car. he leans against the door frame, watching you strap in and take off.

katsuki bakugou wasnt a relationship type man. no, those were distracting and too intense for him. but yet, he invited you over again after exchanging numbers.

this was just casual sex, nothing more nothing less.

“you mean to fuckin tell me—“ he cuts himself off, pausing the show that you both were watching. “you ain’t never had your pussy eaten?”

“well.. no? thats bad?” you ask, taking a sip of the apple cider he brought from his fridge. “you cant get mad either, you haven’t either.”

“i had eaten something spicy, you want burnin’ pussy?” he retorts, taking a sip of water to cleanse his palette. “dont answer that, just lie the fuck back.” he shakes his head, softly pushing you back.

“sir, yes sir.” you joke, feeling his body weight hover over you and kiss your neck. you moan, feeling your shirt be pushed up and shorts be pulled down. he kisses your inner thigh, licking a long stripe up your bare clit— you pulling back for a second.

he peers up at you, heavy and lidded eye’s looking at you. “you good?” he asks, pausing all movement. you nod, feeling him hum and then slowly and softly kiss your clit again. you settle down, moaning his hero name, thats all you know him by.

“call me katsuki, hon’.” he mumbles in your pussy, spreading your lower lips apart and putting your clit in his mouth. he suckles on it like the sweetest candy he’s tasted, his cock starting to get harder by the second.

your breath is starting to hitch, a hand flying to his hair and gripping at the root. he grunts, eyes rolling back for a second and then hips bucking into the couch.

“fuck— mhm.. pull my shit, baby.” he groans, moving down your slit and putting your legs onto his shoulders. his tongue alone is making you clamp down on nothing, he can feel it.

your hips move on their own, grinding down against his lips and chin and he lets you use him, use him to make you feel good and cum on his face like no other. he takes pride in this, being the only one whos ever made you writhe in pleasure because of him.

“go ‘head, come on my face, mama.” and that only set you off, legs trying to close as your orgasm ripples through you in waves and he laughs, rubbing circles in your clit to add more to it. you try to close your legs, you try to push his hands away, only for him to swat at them. “aht aht, dont you fuckin’ go anywhere.”

you lie limp, feeling drained and youre trying to come down from your high and how good it feels to be devoured by him. “you said.. katsuki?” you whisper, and he finishes cleaning up the spit that dribbled down your cheeks and up your back.

“yeah.” he reiterated, pulling your shorts back up and patting your clothed cunt, watching you jerk.

katsuki bakugou wasnt into relationships, no, fuck that. he wasnt into the intense stuff and was damn sure not really intimate.

but yet, he finds himself liking the little things on social media, primarily tiktok. he hates the way people look so happy within relationships, some of them even being heros in different countries or even just here. but, he hates the way it gives him ideas, and brings a smile to his face.

ping!

he looks back at your messages, a small smile on his face and he feels his heart race—

the fuck was his heart racing for?

“do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” he replies back, feeling a pang in his chest, but it wasnt out of fear or anything. he watches the three bubbles pop up, and your response is all he wanted to read.

‘sure, surprise me.’

and he does, taking you to a michelin starred restaurant and making you order the most expensive thing. because he would feel bad if he only order the most expensive things, right?

“do you like it?” he asks, cutting into the steak that he ordered and watching you eat your food.

“yeah, i do. i just sometimes eat slow.” you reply, him nodding and then tapping his foot. “do you mind if i take it home?”

“… why would i be mad if you took food home, stupid?” he asks, like you just asked him if he claps with shitty hands.

“just askin..” you say, watching him wave over the waiter and ask for a box and the check. “we can split the bill if you want.”

he darts his eyes back to you, scrunching his face up and giving you a once over.

“what?”

“split the bill?” he asks, making sure he heard you right. you nod, and he nods with you. “give me yo fuckin’ wallet.”

“because i asked if you want to split the—?”

“did i speak japanese? give me your damn wallet.” he snarks back, snatching your wallet from your fingers and putting his metal card on the check book. “some damn split the bill.”

“well sorry..” you mumble, putting the left over food in the box.

“you can tell me how sorry you are later when we get home.” he suggests, an eyebrow raised at you and a smirk. “you can choose how much to tip.”

“deal.”

both of you could barely get up the stairs, him slamming you against the walls of the corridor that lead to upstairs, but hes already on his knees and shoving your panties to the side, spitting and licking on your pussy.

“wrap this around— yeah, good job.” he praises, holding you up by your legs and thrusting into your soppy walls. “fuck, yer tight tonight.”

your fingers pull at the root of his hair, open mouth moaning against his neck and kissing at it. you feel his groans reverberate in your body. “katsukiiii..” you moan, biting your lip.

“yeah, yeah, yeah, there ya’ goo..” he strews out praises, pressing his head against yours and kissing your neck back. “make me proud, thats it.”

“gunna cum.. gonna cum, kats—“ you say, feeling you clamp and feeling your walls contract against his walls of the house. he grunts, spilling his seed within the condom and growls in your neck.

“hey.. katsuki?” you asked, lying next to him in his bed. he opens his eyes, looking down to you.. “can i ask you something?”

“ask away.” he says, patting your rear and focusing in on you.

“why dont you ever kiss me?” you ask, he furrows his eyebrows, leaning up a bit.

“i do kiss you?” he retorts, something that he doesnt understand. the fuck were you talking about? he kisses you.. he kisses your neck, your head, your fucking pussy for crying out loud.

“yeah, everywhere but my lips.” you reject, sitting up and watching his movements.

he tilts his head for a bit, clicking his tongue. “thats just too intense and intimate for me. and, quite frankly, im not into it.” he admits, then he watches you frown. “what you frowin’ for?”

“we are literally laying in the bed, in nothing but boxers and a shirt and panties.” you remind him of your situation, the fuck did he mean it was ‘too intimate?’ “how can this not be intimate, but a kiss is?”

“this..” he circles to you and himself, “this is just casual fucking.” he tries to remind you, but he starts to grow agitated when you get up and start clothing yourself. “the fuck you doin?”

“this is just casual? but yet you took me on a fucking date.” you say, growing agitated and frustrated yourself.

“that was dinner, not a date.” hes starting to get annoyed, thats why he didnt do this shit often. “i am in no fucking bounds to you, youre not fucking special.” he says, running his fingers through his hair and breathing through his nose.

you stare at him, putting your shoes on and then grabbing your purse. “youre right, im sorry.” you say, grabbing your phone as well and then looking back to katsuki. “ill see you later, ‘kay?”

he stays quiet, getting up to open the door for you and then closing it behind. “for fucking christs sakes..”

he goes back to the king sized bed, closing his eyes and turning the television off. this night already went to shit, and he just wanted to sleep it off.

he wakes up the next day, he’s got another two hours before he goes into patrol. he figured he could just text you to come over, its a new day and apologize, have you stay for a couple hours until he came home and fix something.

“hey, you wanna come over and talk about it?” he typed, sending it to you and waiting for your reply.

twenty minutes had past, its weird. usually youd be up by this hour, but eventually you did respond a thumbs up, and he tided up the living room and waits on you.

“hey.” he gruffly says, letting you in and closing the door behind you. he smells something strong. “did you use incense or some shit?”

“no, its body spray.” you say, plopping on the couch and he smells it again, then it wakes him up even more.

“you wanna try again?” he asks, folding his arms and holding his scowl. “did you just come from someone else’s house?”

you stay quiet, staring at him. the fuck did he want from you?

“you fucked another guy?” he asked again, caging you in and staring into you. “because im not in the fucking mood for these fucking games.”

“am i not allowed to?” you ask, getting to his level as well and then matching his scowl. “im in no fucking bounds to you.”

“so you want to be fucking petty, thats what the fuck this is?”

“to the fuckin’ t.” you respond, grabbing your things and shoving past him. he grabs your arm, pulling you back and staring into your soul.

“who the fuck was it?”

“none of your fucking business, i didnt ask you about the bitches you be fucking that’s not me.” you retort, but it only deepens his scowl, into a face filled with venom.

“i dont be fuckin other bitches.” he growls, then scoffs when you laugh softly. “the fuck is funny?”

“you dont be fuckin other girls?”

“why the fuck would i?” he asks, putting his hands in the air in confusion. “you think i just spread my legs to anyone and everything?”

“wow, i must be so special to know and have that.” you snarkily say, walking to the door.

he groans in agitation and yells. “bitch, fuck you!”

“fuck you, too bitch!” you shout back as he makes his way to you and you slam the door behind you.

the fuck were you both even arguing for?

bakugou wasnt the same after that, he was more stressed at work, feeling the after effects of the argument and not hearing from you in weeks. its shown in the way he fights the villains on the job, a tad bit— no, alot more aggressively than usual.

and he wasn’t going out anymore, just work, gym, then home. he wasnt in the mood, he felt… alone, depressed, like he was missing something.

he had everything that hes had, so what could possibly be fucking missing?

he scrolls on his timeline, seeing that you posted another story at work. he felt his heart pang, a knee bouncing, and like he wanted to reach out.

was he seriously missing you right now?

he sucks his teeth, his head dropping and he’s feeling like such a fucking idiot. he felt it, like he couldnt go a couple of days without you. he needed relief, a certain one.

you both meet up at the bar, the same very place you met and then flirted hard. he watches you sit down, a new dress, huh?

you looked so damn gorgeous, it genuinely pissed him off.

“what do you want?” you ask, telling the bartender for a strawberry mimosa, your usual.

“i..” he tries to say, he hasnt done the whole ‘im sorry’ thing since highschool. “i was wrong.” he admits, staring back at you and watching your face. “was wrong fer callin’ you a bitch, and saying you werent special. and fer gettin’ mad that you slept with someone else.”

“hm.” you hum, tapping your foot and holding your drink. “ill let you in on a secret through the grape vine.” you say, watching him raise a single eyebrow.

“i didnt sleep with some other dude, it was your old cologne.” you say, watching his face contort into confusion. “you showed me an old cologne you used to wear when you were scrolling on tiktok with me. you were half asleep though.”

it all finally clicks when he remembers, and he rubs his face in pure embarrassment and anger. “im going to fucking kill you, bitch.” he says, not truly angry, but embarrassed.

you laugh, and his chest feels less tight. “im sorry for doing that, just tried to show you that what you said wasnt cool.”

“i respect that.” he says, drinking his moonshine.

“thats such a bitch drink..” you watch him swig, and he growls.

“says the one drinking a gotdamn mimosa.” he retorts, and you both finally have a good laugh after about thirteen minutes in.

he feels good, better.

katsuki bakugou wasnt the relationship guy, its too much for him.

but with the way he has you laying ontop of him, a discarded used condom in the trash bin next to his bed. he liked where he was at, the way the sun shined on your face and skin.. he pondered at the earliest hours of the morning. he didnt have to work today, that was good for him since he had you to spend time with. might even a plan a date for you tonight—

a date? the fuck?

he feels himself inclined to you, watching tiktok on the lowest volume so you dont awaken. he keeps seeing these couple tiktoks, watching how they go from tinder, to being married and shit.

could.. could that happen to you? he feels sick, like he was getting clammy and his heart pounded, a imaginative feeling that he finally proposes to you, gives you a couple brats that run around the house he just bought—

…aw fuck no.

“which dress fits me more?” you rummage through the hangers of dresses in the store, he only watches you and picks one out in particular. a split thigh dress with sleeves, since it was about to be fall. “oh, so you want my ass to fall out?”

“your ass aint going to fall out.” he chuckles, pulling it and putting it against you. “youd look good though.”

“would i really?”

he tilts your head up to his, looking into your eyes instead of your soul this time. “always.” he watches you get heated in the face, pulling away out of flustering and scramble to the next aisle.

once you finally start to check out everything, which was just a mere dress that he suggested and some more shirts, you pull your wallet out, just for him to slap it out of your grasps.

“the fuck?!” you say, picking it up and the cashier was already inserting his card.

“told you that when youre with me, i pay.” he reminds, taking the receipt and bag and then holding the door for you.

“did you have to slap my wallet out my hand, though? couldve been robbed!” you say, putting it back in your purse and grumbling.

“anyone trying to rob you infront of me is just stupid.”

“i guess..”

eventually when you got home, katsuki put the goods down onto the couch and then headed to the kitchen, cranking up the flames on his stove. “oh em gee, youre going to cook for me?”

“why did you say it like that, you dumbass?” he turns to you, a confused but laughing face. “yes, im cooking. you need to stop eating out as much.”

“i eat out maybe twice a week.” you say, and he purses his lips. “what? you saying im big?”

“i did not say that.” he growls, tossing the pan and sautéing the veggies. “what?” he asks, seeing your concerned face.

“you have no care for your pans or pots..” you say, watching his shrug and mock you. “on tonight’s episode of hells kitchen..”

“gordon ramsey wouldnt last thirty minutes with me.” he comments, shaking his head and sighing. “im the best cook.”

“no objections.”

and he was, making you a chicken bowl with rice, sautéed vegetables and toasted brioche bread. “thank you, katsu.” you say, the nickname rolling off of your tongue and you didn’t really think of it, but kissing his cheek.

he freezes, staring at you and an eye twitches.

“…what? did i have to brush my teeth after every meal too?”

“katsukii katsuki katsuki!” you moan out, legs pressed to your ears as he pounded away into your cervix. he growls into your ear and pulls you back up, flipping you onto your stomach and wrapping his arm around your throat, holding you in a headlock.

he groans, drilling his cock into your gummy spot that made you see stars like no other. this was more rougher, deeper, and fast paced than any other of your fucks. this one felt.. different.

all because of a fucking kiss on the cheek.

“katsuki!” you squealed strained, eyes rolling back and gritting your teeth trying to endure his cock inside of your fluttering walls.

“fuckin cum, beg me to let you cum.” he growls with venom, and desperation runs him completely now. he hears you, crying out his name and then fucking him back. “fucking god—hah!”

you cream along his shaft, his cock starting to twitch and he drags you up again, putting you back into missionary to slip away into your spasming cunt to just still inside and keep going.

“k-katsuki what are you?—“ he cuts you off by crashing his lips onto yours, a pang into your chest and arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer. he groans in the kiss, stopping his hips.

he pulls away, looking down to you with a narrowed gaze. “what?” you ask, his face getting a little bit softer.

“i dont want to just casually fuck with you anymore.” he says, getting closer to you. “think… think im in love with you.”

“..so.. because i have sex with you, youre in love with me?” you ask, his face dropping and he flicks your head. “ow— fucker!”

“no, stupid..” he says, “i like the moments we dont fuck. like dinner dates and the.. domestic shit i guess.” he says, biting his lip.

“so you admit that they were dates?” you snicker, and he chuckles in defeat.

“whatever you wanna call them, baby.” he says, but puts a hand on your cheek and. “i love you.”

you try to take it serious, but one factor. “can you tell me this without your cock being in me?” you ask, he shakes his head and pulls his hips back, allowing you to sit up.

“love you.” he says, his heart beating out of his ass.. or so it feels like it.

“i love you too, dummy.”

“now you fuckin ruined my moment.”

[jamiethebeeart]

“But it’s not gay if he’s dead.” Danny’s head whipped around to stare down the street at two guys walking on the other side. He thought he was free of hearing that phrase ever again. Heart thudding in his ears, he crossed the street to tail these two guys. There was no way? Right? I mean Danny was something like 1,000 miles away from his hometown. There was no way two random guys in the big city of Gotham would’ve ever heard of –

“I don’t know man, it’s never been confirmed whether or not the “big guy” was actually… ya know?”

Danny seethed in frustration at the vague conversation. He stepped around a group of kids as he barely made the end of the crosswalk countdown.

“Nah, Red makes too many uncomfortable jokes about death to not have died.”

Danny sped up, weaving in between people to catch up before he lost the conversation in the din.

“It’s Gotham, we all make jokes about death.”

“Ya, but not like him. He seems to revel in them, like he actually kicked the bucket, permanent-like, not like those people who – I don’t know – cardiac arrest and are technically dead for a couple minutes until the EMTs get to them or whatever.”

A car puttered down the road – releasing a huge plume of exhaust in between Danny and the guys. Danny sighed, fully intending to return to his original path with the reassurance that they weren’t talking about Phantom. Then the next damned sentence came out of one of their mouths.

“Ok sure let’s say you’re right. Is it necrophilia if his body started decaying before coming back?”

‘Fuck it’ Danny thought as he turned back around. He had to see how this conversation ended – definitely not because the answer to that question kept him up night. Absolutely not. Call him a cat because he was just curious and not all at invested in the answer.

“Oh! Dude, shut the fuck up! Why would you – that’s disgusting! Are you kidding me!”

“Answer the question Mr. It’s Not Gay if He’s Dead – necrophiliac: yes or no?”

“No? Have you seen Red’s body? No way a dead guy could have muscles like that – I mean you gotta have working bodily functions right? To build muscles or whatever the fuck? Like have you seen his abs? Or, shit, just his arms - I mean swoon worthy, what I wouldn’t give to have him hold -”

“…….”

“- me…. What are ya looking at me like that for?”

“When, exactly, have you seen his abs.”

“Aaaah - that’s not the point –“

“Sure as hell hope that’s the point.” Red Hood stepped out of an alleyway they were walking past. Even with a helmet on, Danny swore the guy stared straight at him. He was so fucked getting caught listening in to this conversation – could he play it cool? Danny was cool right? Yeah, he could totally pull this off, act totally normal and keep walking. Hunching his shoulders some and turning his body away from the three men, he walked past. Or tried to. Red Hood caught the back of his shirt, stopping him from getting away. Unless Danny was willing to expose his powers to get out this situation, the best he could do was play dumb and hope Hood let him go without too much hassle.

“Boss!”

“Hey Boss – you didn’t happen to only hear the second half of that, did you?”

Red Hood growled, “the part about necrophilia or the part about my abs?”

Danny twisted his head back to see Goon #1 turn pale. “Uuuh – uh- um,” met Red Hood’s question.

A choreographed roll of the eyes, “Better question, why are you talking shit out on the streets and not paying attention to your little stalker,” Hood gestured to Danny.

“I’m not a stalker!” Danny huffed. His eyes widened. All three guys looked over at him. ‘SHIT’ Danny thought. He did not want to catch anyone’s attention more than he had, much less all three.

Goon No. 2 looked at him, as he resumed his squirming in Red Hood’s grasp, “So who are you?”

Danny glanced up to see Red Hood staring down at him. Today just wasn’t his day. “Hood,” Danny blurted out.

Silence. The tips of Danny’s ears turned bright red

“Uhm, I mean, a tourist?” “In Crime Alley, kid?”

"I'm not a kid," Danny muttered.

Hood shook Danny’s shirt hard enough to also shake Danny himself. “Try again. I’ve seen you around often enough to know that’s a lie.”

“It’s true!” Danny lied. “I was visiting the city, my wallet got pickpocketed with most of my money, so now I’m… kind of…. Stuck here? Indefinitely?”

Goon No. 1 laughed at him, “do ya think we’re dumb? You have a cellie right? No way you’re ‘stuck here’.”

“Exactly, so who do you work for? Penguin?” A jab towards Danny’s face. “Riddler?” Another jab and a step towards Danny. “Is it Two Face?” Another, even closer jab. Danny went cross-eyed looking at the finger in front of his nose.

“Back off,” Hood said. Danny breathed a sigh of relief at being given some space. And then the next words came out of Red Hood’s mouth, “Get lost you two – and stop gossiping on the street. And you-“ Hood turned back to Danny, “ – you’re coming with me.” Danny gulped. Today was going down as another shit day in the books for sure.

[wcnderlnds]

loser of the year | peter maximoff

SUMMARY: peter thinks you hate him because you avoid him at all costs but he soon figures out why. WORD COUNT: 1243 WARNINGS: none! brief mention of she/her A/N: i couldn't think of a name so spotify did me a solid and played my fave simple plan song and i rolled with it.

Peter couldn’t understand it. Days, heck, weeks had been spent with him trying to figure out what he’d done wrong for you to constantly avoid him but he was coming up blank. Nada. So, if he hadn’t done anything then what was the reason? Why did you always avoid him in the hallways? Why would you always make an excuse to leave whenever he came over when you were talking to Scott or Jean? It absolutely baffled him. Drove him insane actually. Once Peter got something in his little speedster head, he tended to obsess over it. He also didn’t like when he couldn’t figure something out. And, you were the biggest puzzle of all.

It happened again one day when you were sitting in the common room of the mansion. Lazily, you were laying across the couch, legs dangling over the arm while your head rested on the other side. Scott was sitting in the chair next to you, the two of you chatting about Logan’s latest lecture. Peter had been speeding through the hallways causing his trouble like always when he came to halt hearing your voice.

He jumped into the free chair on the other side of the couch, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. “What’re we talking about?”

“I have to go,” you mumbled as you got to your feet. “See you later, Scott.”

Once you left, Peter scoffed, arms crossing over his chest like a spoiled child. “What’s her problem?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“She hates me, dude. I don’t even know what I’ve done,” Peter threw his hands up in the air, his frustration more than evident.

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Pfft, yeah right. That’s why she always leaves whenever I show up. Whatever, doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Completely fine. I don’t want to talk to her anyway.”

It wasn’t like you wanted to avoid Peter – you really didn’t but you didn’t know what else to do. Usually, you were this confident person who could strike up a conversation with anyone. The easiest thing in the world for you was to make friends but when it came to Peter that all flew out of the window. He made you nervous. One look at him and you were flustered. It was like you lost your tongue, you couldn’t speak a word to him or even look at him unless you wanted to look like a human tomato. It was a problem – a huge problem.

Of course, you’d had crushes before. Many times but this was different. Never had you been so flustered by someone that you couldn’t stand to be around them. This was all new for you. Sure, Peter was attractive. He was probably one of the most attractive guys you’d ever laid your eyes on but what really drew you to him was his personality. He was so fun, carefree. Everything seemed like it was one big adventure with him. Not that you’d really had a full conversation with him but you’d seen how he acted during training. Scott had told you many stories about Peter. It really seemed like everyone loved him. Sure, maybe he came across a little annoying at times but you found that endearing.

Lost in thought, you were walking through the hallway, a book in hand. It wasn’t until you were hit by a brick wall - or what felt like a brick wall at least anyway - and knocked to the floor when you came back to reality. Your eyes instantly bore into Peter’s who had managed to knock the two of you down to the floor, his body laying on top of yours. His hands braced either side of your head so he didn’t completely crush you.

“Oop, my bad.”

Your cheeks instantly turned red at his nonchalance. How could he be so collected when his body was literally pinning yours to the floor? 

“Wasn’t paying attention,” he added.

Okay, so, he knew he should get off you. He knew he should get up and let you go on your way but this was the first time he’d got to speak to you without you instantly rushing off. What was a few more minutes pressed together on the floor? He looked at your face, your eyes avoiding his now, the faint tint of pink on your cheeks. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you squeaked out. Suddenly, you forgot how to breathe.

“What’s your issue?” Peter blurted out.

“What?”

“With me? Why’d you act like I’m the walking plague and avoid me at all costs? If I said somethin’ to ya at some point then I’m sorry but I’ve been wracking my brain and I don’t think I have.”

“I…” The words got lost on your tongue. ‘Seriously, get it together, brain,’ you thought. “You didn’t.”

Peter scrunched his face. “Then what is it? What’d I do to you?”

With his face so close to yours, his body pressing into you so you could feel every part of him, it was like someone had removed your brain from your head. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in there. “Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed as he noticed you avoiding his gaze at all costs. Then, it hit him. The way you couldn’t look at him, the blush on your cheeks. You liked him. A smirk graced that stupidly handsome face of his as he finally got off you, holding his hand out to help you up. Of course, you took it. His hand felt warm in yours, a little sweaty but you figured that was just because he had spent five minutes in that compromising position with you.

“You like me,” he pointed accusingly at you. His tone was smug. So damn smug.

“Wh-what? No!” A bold face lie.

“That’s why you avoid me. You got yourself a little crush on ol’ Quickie. I mean, who can blame you?” His grin lit up his whole face.

Now you really were flustered. Credit had to be given – he’d figured you out within five minutes of being around you and that was exactly why you had wanted to avoid being anywhere near him. This was going down as one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Your hands went to cover your face that was now burning hot. 

Peter shoved his hands in jacket pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “S’cool, babe. Think you’re pretty cute too.”

That made you peer at him through your fingers. “Really?”

“Yeah when you’re not avoiding me anyway.”

“Sorry.”

He waved his hand at you to dismiss your apology. “All good. I’ma need you to stop running away everytime you see me, though.”

You nodded, bringing your hands away from your face. Suppose that was something you could do now you’d broke the ice. Or, well, Peter had broken the ice. You’d done nothing but say five words and break the world record for blushing. “Okay, yeah but… uh, I do have to go. Um… need to return this book.”

He stepped out of your way, letting you pass. As you walked away, he called after you with that shit-eating grin still on his face. “See ya, cutie. Might ask you on a date next time I see you if it doesn’t make you spontaneously combust.”

Peter snickered to himself, feeling pretty confident with himself as he walked away. Meanwhile you were sure you were about to melt into a puddle on the floor.

[sstrwbrryccke]

— bullying him pt.4 | sub soobin

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

tags: loser!nerd!soobin x bully!mean!reader, gn reader, sadistic reader, masochistic soobin, dubcon, hate fingering, sadist x masochistic relationship, mutual pining, mild violence, hurt w comfort, mean dirty talk, reader's genitals are unclear and can be interpreted as either a cock or a strap, misunderstandings, public bathroom indecency, bdsm, happy ending!!!

the long await part 4 is here!! i tagged everyone who wanted a part 4 i hope you aren't too irritated by the tag >.< i did this very tired and sleep deprived so i hope it makes sense HAHAHA

tags: @yaegerphobic @strwbrryjaem @ke4s @sk104kx @bennybenten @queer-n-here @sleeping143 @browni-bin @skinnyzlegendz @roturo @zuzuhasablog

something changed after that date, you could feel it, soobin could feel it and the other classmates felt it too. it was the lingering touches, the maintained gazes during class. the way he dared to stare for just a second longer. you didn't want to admit it, and it was initially easy to ignore the problem. it's not like you weren't used to overlooking soobin. he was simply an accessory in your eyes, what's the use in admiring the shine of a singular gem on a sapphire bracelet?

though, perhaps your dismissiveness was your greatest achilles heel after all. in the end, an undeniable itch would creep up on the back of your neck. like a minuscule mosquito sting that would bloom into large red welts. it started irritating you to a degree. sure you were blatantly ignoring the man, but can a contradiction not be such opposing parallels?

because how dare he, even for a second, ignore you back?

maybe it was the small sigh of relief he let out when you passed by, or the way he kept his head down low when he exited the class. when did it start to bother you so much?

no way. he would come running back. he always did and he always will, you know it in your bones, he will come back he will. what's a victim without a bully? a nerd without a jock??? a locker without a dim-witted loser to push into????????

you will wait it out, wait for him to come out crawling and kneeling, grasping at your leg like a devout to their divine deity— prayers forcing their way frantically out of his mouth.

but seconds tick by, days even, and suddenly it's been two weeks already with no movement. all silent on the battlefront. is this what it's like for drinks to fizzle out at the bottle of a can? when a songbird no longer sings for the morning sun? and the stars no longer shine for the moon? and whatever next poetic quote that rhymes with moon?

damn, what a sad and pathetic way to conclude it. so this is the ending chapter of the depressing story of a mega fluke and his cool fling.

is what you would say if you were the cowardly choi soobin!!!

because you weren't a pussy, and you certainly weren't one to give up on your pride. so be it, if he wants you to come to him, you'll give it to him.

☆★☆

your glare bore holes into the hunched back of choi soobin. now see, normally you wouldn't even gift that loser a glance in his direction, too risky to pay him attention and blow the cover of your unconventional connection after all. but this was a special occasion, and you felt like your nerves were lit on fire, like a hormonal teenager going through puberty again. it was abnormal for everyone else too, many did not even know the unimportant side character soobin was even associated with you, arguably the most interesting (or maybe the right word is known) person in the classroom.

the metal keys weigh heavy in your uniform pants (retrieved from the staffroom after many great excuses to convince your teacher), waiting for the right moment to pounce. come on soobin, you dare him to move. fall right into the metal prongs.

"—dude, hey— HEY!" one of your friends, kiwoo, shook your shoulder, hard enough that you broke your gaze just for a second. you snap your head at him, giving him an irritated look that makes him retreat his hand.

"what's with you?" he says, suspicious, "you've been glaring at soobin ever since he entered the classroom. what? he gave you bad head or something?"

"not funny." you roll your eyes.

"is there something happening between the two of you? it doesn't feel like a simple errand boy situation anymore. you're not nonchalant and mysterious for ignoring the question by the way."

you groan, this really wasn't the time for it. what kind of excuse can you even give him? that the weird situationship you had with soobin backfired and now you're acting like an angsty possessive insecure spouse trying to get him back? tough shit.

"it's not even that deep, kiwoo. he just pissed me off this morning, that's all." you scoff out an excuse, hoping that's enough to deter your nosy friend. you look back at where soobin was seated— shit where did he go?!

"what did he do now?—" "not the time, he's gone, where did he go?" you look around, irritation seeping into your voice.

"chill, he probably just went to the b—"

you stand up, muttering another alibi before dashing out of the classroom. you catch a glimpse of his white shirt turning the corner, bingo, he's headed to the restroom! your heart thumps in your throat as you approach the bathroom, was the dominos actually falling into place? you can't believe your stupid plan was working.

once you reach the entrance, you silently take a breath, getting ready for the confrontation. you step in, closing the restroom door behind you with the keys, and you hear an all too familiar gasp as the lock sets into place.

"oh, you, the door,"

his stupid voice stutters out (you missed hearing it), shaky eyes meeting yours. he was sweating visibly, like this was a horror game and he just came face to face with the final boss.

"so—sorry wrong room!" he turns around like an npc reciting a practised line, only to be met with the tile wall, what a dumb bunny. when he pivots back around, you are already eye-to-eye with him. his voice hitches, a pathetic excuse for a squeal, and the world spins— you pin him into the wall right behind him. he would crumble onto the floor right there if it weren't for your hands holding his wrists up.

there was a moment of silence between you two, his eyes scattering around as if the gum on the floor was suddenly so much more interesting than the person in front. he bites his bottom lip in fear.

"oh stop it i told you before to not bite your chapped lips." the first words exchanged, a command that he obeys immediately like following your words was as natural as breathing. you forgot how satisfying it was to order him around.

"care to explain why you're avoiding me?" your tone sharp and cutting; as if you were physically pressing a knife up against his chest. he tries to talk. lip trembling, eyes closing, but all that comes out is a fearful whimper. you click your tongue in irritation, releasing one of his wrists— which limply drops to his side like a ragdoll. using your free hand you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"answer."

he tears up, sniffling as he tries not to sob. "m' sorry... i—i'm sorry for ignoring you."

you felt a pang in your heart, you can't tell if it was guilt or anger. "shit quit apologising and just answer my question. why were you avoiding me."

his shoulders were raised all the way up as if he was expecting you to smack him across the cheek, his whole body was wrecked with trembles and you're impressed he wasn't full-on sobbing yet. his face was red and holy shit no fucking way he was hard. what a strong sense of deja vu, wasn't this exactly how this whole mess started in the first place? you just stare at him for a minute, shaking and quivering with a bulge, no answer on his tongue.

"are you fucking for real? what'd i expect from a masochistic dog. of course, you're getting off from this." you grit your teeth, was he just using you for a quick jerk? that this was his kink this whole time and he only ever saw you as a fuck partner? did he ignore you simply so you would snap and give him exactly what he wants???

and for some reason, you felt betrayed, as if there was actually some relationship between you two. how hypocritical too, did you not also see soobin as sexual relief? wasn't he supposed to be an obedient mouth that opened for your dick? why was your fist clenching and veins pumping as if you caught your long-term partner cheating???

"maybe the only way to get shit through your thick skull is to fuck it out of you huh? bend you over in front of everyone with your ass out as you get fucking drilled by a big fat cock? is that what you want?" your words come out forced and throbbing red with anger.

"i—"

you clasp a rough hand over his throat, though you didn't actually squeeze, he shuts up immediately, eyes wide and fingers quivering. you almost rip his pants down, taking his underwear as well in one swift motion. he snivels pathetically, helplessly being led around as you savagely grasp his hair. you pull him to the sink, forcing him to bend over in front of the mirror. he desperately clutches the edges of the sink with a grunt, otherwise he might be toppled over by your rough handling. his body leaning down with his elbows bent onto the sink edge.

you grip his hair, painfully hard, his scalp must be killing him. you lift his head up until he's staring at his face in the reflection. it was like a brush with scarlet paint used his face as a canvas. his cheeks red and trembling. tears bulge on the edge of his eyes, threatening to slip out any second. his lips long-bitten and bleeding.

"keep staring at your slutty self. watch how pathetic and ugly you're gonna look when you get your organs fucked out. if you break your gaze even for a second i'll fucking kill you."

you cuss with every malevolence in your soul, for a second soobin thinks you might actually kill him. he holds in his breath as if one more sound from him will settle the hatred in your heart and murder him. you spit down onto his ass, watching as it dribbles down, you abruptly prod at his hole. not waiting like you would before. breaking through the rim and forcing your finger in like an intruder.

he loudly groans out in agony, body shuddering and wavering. you smack him over the head. "quit moving so much. shit, i wasted so many stupid gifts on you. and to think i was saving up the actual fucking for something more special. like we were actually a couple or something. but now you're gonna get your organs reorganised in a public bathroom. i guess that's suiting for a whore like you."

he grits his teeth in pain, trying to endure the pain and the humiliation for you. he stares at himself in the mirror in despair, brows furrowed and his vision blurry, his glasses were knocked off his nose from all the movement, but he keeps looking at himself just like you commanded. not trying to disobey you. why did he do that for you? it pissed you to new heights. why was he still acting like he was a goodie two shoes who didn't want to displease you?

you thrust the finger in and out with no care, barely being assisted by your makeshift lube to slide against his walls. his soft whimpers barely slipping out. you press another finger against his hole and this time he does stir, he jerks away. incoherent protests come out when he feels the second finger try to enter.

"break! a break! please give me uh a break b—before the second!" he begs, on the verge of breaking into full sobs.

"what makes you think you can bargain?"

he shivers at your harsh words, head hanging in shame. it was so pathetic, you feel a small semblance of pity, spitting more on his ass to assist the second. but you weren't merciful by any standard and promptly slid the two fingers in.

his shoulders shake, feeling full already with the two fingers. tears finally slip out in both overwhelming pain and pleasure. he hadn't touched himself ever since the last time you two met.

your ruthless fingers pump in and out of his ass like you were digging for his stomach, violently pressing against his prostate. it hurts like crazy. a primal and animalistic type of pain. but oh man, the electricity zipping through his body was hitting all the right places. it felt so wrong yet so right. like he belonged here pressed underneath your feet and hands. this felt like pleasure. his dick was tall and alert, pent up and ready to burst. his body begged for more while his mind was praying for mercy.

he thrashes around with each new thrust, being unable to control his body as a guttural wail forces its way out of his mouth. the slopping of skin slapping skin fills your ears. you grunt as you tighten your hold on his hair, trying to get him to stop moving. the more you ram your fingers into his prostate, the more frantic he becomes, one of his hands coming up to weakly pry at your hand holding his hair. you let go of your grip on his scalp to instead pull his body flush against your chest, hand snaking to the front and onto his throat. your fingers ceasing to stop with its insane momentum.

"please— no more— have me—mercy! i'm so sorry i'm so sorry i'm sorry—" he begs endlessly, sobbing and shaking his head, struggling against your hold.

you ignore his pleas, hand trailing down from his throat to his lower stomach, you can feel the movement of your fingers. suddenly, you push your palm down on his lower abdomen, right above his prostate. just as your two fingers press into the glands. he cries out, head blanking into sparks of light and stars. his cock spasming as he spurts out white stripes, shooting onto the mirror. his hands that were frantically prying at your wrists limps down.

your lips curl into a cruel smile, a sense of satisfaction raking over your body. you slid your two fingers out of his hole. a scoff comes out, naturally.

"hah. you came? i wasn't even trying to pleasure you, and you came like a little..."

your nasty words drift off as you look at him in the mirror. the room is now uncomfortably quiet, only the weeping and sobbing of soobin echoing in the restroom. he looks like a wreck, not in a sexy, sweaty way. but in a heart-hanging, guilt-tripping way. his face was painted with tears, snot and substance. eyes closed and afraid to look up at you. his body exhausted and leaning against you, he didn't even have the energy to quiver.

you did this to him, you absolutely ruined his pretty face and his sweet eyes. you actually deserve hell. what was wrong with you? how could you do this to someone so cute and precious? soobin deserved the world and so much more, he deserved everything good and nice and sweet and right on this earth. but what happened at that moment, how did you get here?

suddenly it was like your throat was constricted and swollen, lips dry with unsaid words. what do you say? apologise? promise to leave him alone forever?

"i..."

"i'm sorry..." he beats you to it with shaky words.

"holy shit no— no no, don't apologise." you quickly mumble, holding him up.

"i— i was scared, i didn't know how you would react. because i think, i think i'm insane, i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm scared you would be disgusted" his words tumble out breathlessly, you just stare silently in shock.

"i'm sorry— i don't get myself either, because everything about you drives me crazy and i can't be around you— i know i'm a masochistic dog but i just can't help it— no matter what you do to me makes me like you more, d—don't hate me please. i'm such a freak—" his words are barely coherent as he sobs.

"shh shhh shh it's okay, calm down soobin, calm down." you try to comfort him, beyond confused and shocked. he's crying so hard he's hiccuping and stammering. you help him lean on a wall and he slides down, you frantically kneel down to try and ground him.

"i— i don't want you to hate me— but your attention just feels so good to me— anything— any attention you give me it just shakes me to my core... i couldn't do it anymore—hic— i had to avoid you hick—" he hides his face in his hands. you try to understand his words, your head spiralling in turmoil. he what? he avoided you because you gave him too much attention? what kind of fucked up logic was that? this was starting to sound like those cliche misunderstanding tropes in romcoms. nevermind that, you had a sexually confused pile of fluff to comfort.

"soobin breathe, hey, come on." you say as softly as you can, like you were trying to approach an injured bunny in the wild. no matter, your heart pangs with guilt as he keeps crying. you pull him into a hug on your lap, wrapping your arms tight around his frame. this seems to make him cry more, but he leans into you, knees bundled tight against his chest as he savours the warmth. you two stay on the floor in this strong embrace. you coo sweet and reassuring words into his ear as you rock him back and forth, doing your best to console him. kissing each tear as it falls.

his sobs quiet down with each passing minute until there was only silence and mute sniffling. it was bizarre to cuddle on the restroom floor, but it was nice, and you have to admit that you do like soobin in your arms. not embracing him in sex, but in comfort and simply to make him feel good. this was crazy hypocritical to say, considering he was partly crying due to your assholery.

after a few more minutes of silence, you glance at soobin, still hidden away by his hands. "soob, come on, look at me." you coo into his ear, and he makes a small noise of acknowledgement. your hands gently pry at his hands and he lets you remove his shield from his face. he looks at you pitifully, eyes red and puffy from the crying, pouting. you kiss his cheek, you don't know why you did it, but it felt right to. "do you want to talk to me now?"

he nods, but hides his face in your shoulder.

"i... i'm crazy and a freak. you hurt me, you humiliate me, you cause me so much pain."

you grimace, stroking his hair. yeah, that sounds about right. if there was one thing consistent about your inconsistent personality, it was how much of an asshole you are. if soobin was your salvation, it was like the angels gave you a second chance at life. but you honestly wouldn't blame them if the ground caved beneath you right now and sent you straight to hell. was it bad to say you enjoyed all the sadistic acts? probably. you can't lie and say you regret being a sadist. but if it makes it better, you do regret the pain soobin is feeling right now.

"but... please don't hate me for this..."

"i won't hate you, soobin." you encourage him to keep talking, shushing his worries away.

"i like all of it, i like it so much it drives me crazy. i'm abnormal, i know. and i get it if you think i'm disgusting. but i'm so obsessed with you. i think about the things you do to me every night, i replay it in my head over and over again until i'm touching myself again. the more you hurt me, the more i like you... but... but you kept avoiding me, and i thought you knew how i felt and you were disgusted... and if that was the case... i didn't want to get hurt anymore..." he confesses fully, face buried deep in your neck and you feel your shirt slowly wet with his tears again.

it was silence, absolute, bewilderment from your side. the quiet seems to gnaw at soobin's heart, because he lifts his head up, gaze lowered as he stutters. "i— i get it if you're disgusted, my feelings are so strang—"

"soobin, you're a proper, proper masochist, wow." you breathe out. lifting his face up gently with two of your hands. wiping away his tears with your sleeve.

"oh..." he just mouths, mind seemingly blank. confused by how mundane your reaction was.

"wait, so how'd you feel about what we did just then? did you like it?"

"i... didn't like you being angry at me..."

"but what about the feeling? the fingering? the rough treatment?"

he blushes. "i liked the rough treatment." he pauses for a moment. "and you paying attention to me again."

the both of you fall quiet and he crumbles at the scrutiny. you knew soobin was masochistic and that he liked you. this was not new information. shit, you knew this from the beginning. so what changed? why did you freak out and go ballistic? why'd you corner him and demand him to tell you why he avoided you? why'd you force him to endure all that pain?

"i... i was so mean to you today... i... because you kept, looking away from me, and, ignoring my gaze and avoiding me. i thought..." the words fall into noiseless void. burning on the tip of your tongue.

"i thought you didn't like me anymore,"

you admit, shame and humiliation weighing down your heart. for a self-proclaimed smartass, you were sure stupid and dense to your own emotions. when did it start? when did you actually start caring about the loser? maybe the answer was simpler than that, you never felt the feelings creeping up to you, because, in truth, you've always been looking at him. maybe that's why you picked on him so easily, always eyeing for his reaction. shit, what a twisted way your heart works. but damn did you have a lifetime of sins to atone for.

soobin was blinking up at you blearily, clearly confused and oblivious to the conclusion in your head. you pick up his cracked glasses from the ground, gently inserting them behind his ears. (you'll buy him another pair later.)

"you don't hate me?" his voice was weak and hopeful. you scoff.

"you're too easy to bully and pick on. it's the complete opposite idiot. i just have a shitty way to show my feelings, and you're unfortunately the victim." it takes a moment for him to process your words, and his face morphs into a cute kind of shock, he is ecstatic, you can tell by the way his dimples deepen. you really didn't deserve this man or any of the feelings he has, for some reason, god was merciful and sent the perfect masochistic man to slot into your sadistic tendencies.

"but... isn't our relationship weird?" he frowns.

"we crossed that line the moment i fingered you dude." he chuckles at this, caught off guard. and you appreciate the clear ringing of his laughter without any more denial.

"honestly, you picked such a shitty person to crush on. i'm the worst, i like being mean to you. i like humiliating you, i like the feeling of having you grovel at my feet."

his face reddens with each word, hiding his face into your shoulder again. you lean into him, appreciating the silky softness of his hair.

"i don't deserve you. i'm an idiot, it took what? months of sexual tension and emotional buildup for me to realise i actually like you instead of hating you?" you ramble, he snorts.

"but i'll make it up to you, i promise." you can tell he was blushing by the heated tips of his ears. this was nice, him in your lap. he's still a loser, but he's your loser. (gross, you reconsider taking everything back with this one thought.)

"let's get out of here first. screw class, we're gonna graduate anyways, what are the teachers gonna do?"

"and i should wear some pants..." he comments.

"that too."

☆★☆

you do a final check over at soobin, ointment applied and bandaged up. he looks out of place in your fancy bedroom and it makes you snicker. once a loser, forever a loser.

"okay, that's it. does it hurt anywhere else?" you ask, setting down the ointment. he's only injured slightly, it was mostly his bitten lip and some bruises from the rough handling.

he nods and you instantly look at him with concern. "where? where and what hurts?"

he exaggeratedly points at his heart and you scoff, rolling your eyes, trying your hardest not to smile at his antics. "what does the big baby want?"

soobin is pensive and shy at first, he wasn't expecting you to take his dramatics seriously. but soon his lips curl into a cheeky grin. "...cuddles, and kisses." you blush at the idea, grimacing. you stand up and walk away from him towards the bed.

soobin panics at your reaction. "s—sorry! i was being stupid, you don't have to take it seriously, don't leave me!"

"shut up, do you want it or not?" you say, sitting on the edge of the bed. arms stretched out. he grins widely, hurrying up to jump into your arms. you two roll over into the bed as you stretch the blanket to cover your bodies. you admire soobin's joyful expression, stroking his hair.

don't get it wrong, you still think such blatant displays of affection were cringe, and soobin was still a loser. but maybe it was never that deep, and you could definitely see yourself get used to this.

you lean down, your lips connecting with his, he feels so plush and soft underneath you. he's still a masochistic dog definitely, and you still think he's a pervert, but he's also so precious and lovable, there was so many things you could list about him.

you two separate. he seems beyond pleased with himself, burying his face into your neck. "i feel like this is all a dream, and i'm going to wake up."

"don't insult me, dream me could never kiss this well." you roll your eyes. he snickers.

"yeah, you're right. no one else could make me feel this way except real you."

you feel yourself grin, really grin. not out of malice, a grin of genuine satisfaction and joy. you feel your eyelids drooping as soobin drifts to sleep in your arms. if you told younger you that this was how things would turn out with soobin, they probably would've cussed and flipped you out.

oh well. they will come to accept it eventually anyways. this wasn't so bad after all.

end.

☆★☆ BONUS SCENE

soobin drools, senses heightened. tied up, gagged, blindfolded and a vibrator pressing at his cock. he wasn't going to last much longer. you were cruel, so fucking cruel. and he had no idea where you even were. did you leave him? how long has it been? minutes? hours? did you leave the room?

he was snapped back to reality by a harsh slap on his thigh. he trembles and sobs, curling into himself. he feels a pressure at the back of his head before the gag loosened up, allowing him to breathe and talk.

"pl—please, can't, can't— gon cum, can't hold it in. mercy, please mercy." he cries out, voice broken. he sobs and thrashes around. hoping he can charm his way out of this. he was going to burst any moment and he was going to be punished harshly for disobeying you.

"colour?" you whisper by his ear, making him jump with a whimper.

"g—green." he sniffles.

"good boy." you coo, stroking his chest, circling around one of his nipples. he cries, nerves jerking all over the place. "beg for it."

"please..." he begins, swallowing down a sob.

"please fuck me... please give me permission to cum— i— i can't last any longer— hic!"

you interrupt him with a large intrusion in his ass, he almost mewls in both pleasure and pain. "a—ah! so big, feeeels good, uhhg feels so good. love you, love you."

you grin cruelly, thrusting into him hard and accurate. the pleasure he was in twists into panic as he realises you hadn't given him permission to cum yet. and if you kept going at this pace, he was surely going to cum before your permission.

"w—wait ple—ease let me cum! i've been good, i've been good! please let me cum, i've been so good for you!" he snivels, were you going to be nice or heartless today? the closer he reaches to his climax, the more he frets. grovelling down at you, begging relentlessly for permission. before long, he feels his limit.

"i'm going to oh god i'm going to! i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm so disobedient i'm going to disobey you! i feel it— hic—" he cries louder, and just before he climaxes, you press down on his lower stomach, whispering in his ear.

"come for me baby."

with that, his body violently convulses, and his back arches as his mouth opens in a silent scream. cum forces its way out of his painfully hard dick, a guttural groan digs its way out as he empties completely onto the bed.

after his ejaculation, he huffs heavily, whines mixed in with his wheezing. you let him ride out his orgasm, pulling out of him. you untie him and take off the blindfold. kissing him sweetly.

"you did so well, you were so cute soob." you cheekily grin. he smiles tiredly up at you. body sore and thoroughly ruined. he stretches his arms out and you take it as a signal to lift him up into your lap.

he settles into your embrace like it is the most natural thing in the world. giggling into your shoulder. "that was amazing, i love you so much."

"i gueesss i love you." you tease.

"hey!"

you chuckle, kissing his cheek. "just kidding, i love you." soobin whispers a quiet 'i know.'

you two enjoy each other's company for a second, only interrupted by soobin's growling stomach. "greedy." you jab at him with a grin and he pouts.

"i'll get you something to eat at the convenience store." you shake your head, getting up to leave but soobin tugs at your sleeve.

"i'm going to be lonely, take me with you!"

you roll your eyes at his dramatic antics, but oblige anyways.

☆★☆

at the convenience store, you buy a simple bread bun for soobin, your hands warming up in your pockets as he enjoys his snack. it was a cold winter, and you wanted to return back to your apartment as soon as possible.

"yo!"

a vaguely familiar voice calls out, you turn around to be met with a recognizable face, a gasp on your lips—

"holy shit, kiwoo! i haven't seen you since graduation." soobin vaguely identify the man as one of your old high school friends.

"it's been quite a few years, hasn't it," he chuckles, though confusion was evident in his eyes as he recognises soobin.

"soobin? what are you doing here?" he pauses, glancing between you, and then soobin, and then you. like the gears of a clock slowly turning.

"you guys are still friends?" he asks.

you and soobin exchange a look. "not really." you chuckle.

he tilts his head and you dutifully wrap an arm around soobin's waist. a cheeky grin on your face as you show off the glinting gem on your finger.

"he's my fiance, obviously."

★★★ end ★★★

an: i hope you guys enjoyed the fic and the ending!!! it took a lot of contemplating on how i was going to end this highly anticipated series... i do have a lot of inbox asks for alternative realities and spin-offs, so i will probably work on them next!!! also so sorry for disappearing for like multiple months... i had been so busy with life help!!!

anyways... reshares and comments are always appreciated! please do let me know how you felt about the fic....

[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)