#like what could he possibly have done to warrant this reaction

[suchasurfriend]

petey's parents hated his ass damn

[sugoroo]

#AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES...

ʚɞ summary: the chronicles of what happens when you share a living space with the jjk men: expect tension, embarrassing revelations and (of course) séx! . . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + nanami.

warnings. fem!reader, masturbation, panty stealing, plushie humping in choso's, penetration (p in v), doggystyle, oral (f receiving), 18+ minors dni.

SATORU GOJO — THE LOUD ONE!

satoru gojo is the most irritating, annoying and overly loud roommate you could possibly have.

at all hours of the day, he can be heard through the thin walls separating your rooms doing one (or all) of the following things: shouting down the phone to his bestfriend suguru, raging at his teammates for losing a match in a video game... and even jerking off.

yes, that's right.

and whatever satoru is doing to himself in there simply cannot feel good enough that it warrants the sheer amount of obnoxious moans that he releases; you're sure of it. he has to be playing it up purely to get on your nerves — and to his credit, it works.

so eventually, after yet another hour of trying to focus on doing some work on your computer but being unable to get anything done due to the noises coming from the other room of the apartment, you decide to do something about it.

without stopping to knock, you unceremoniously barge through his door, mouth already open in preparation of the spew of complaints you have ready to throw his way.

but, rather embarrassingly, once you lay eyes upon what he's currently doing, any and every word in the english language disappears from your mind without so much as a puff of smoke.

satoru, for his part, doesn't react at all save for looking mildly amused at your reaction. in fact... you think the pale hand he has wrapped around his cock even speeds up its languid strokes at the sight of you.

"girl, finally!" he sighs dramatically, lips spreading into a wide, impish smile as he beckons you with the curled finger of his other hand. "been waiting for you to get the hint for months now. i was starting to think you didn't want me too, honestly."

"you— what?" you push out awkwardly, wincing through your confusion as you fight the fruitless battle to tear your eyes from his unnecessarily big cock and meet his bright eyes.

"you heard me," satoru hums with an easy shrug, letting out one of those all-too-familiar, almost pornographic moans when he squeezes his own hand around the leaky tip of his shaft. "...or do you not want me too?"

sighing, you raise your thumb and forefinger to rub your stressed temple, shaking your head at the sheer audacity of this man. "you're ridiculous, gojo. i was hoping you were just pretending to jerk off in here— but no, of course you actually are."

"mhmm," he groans raspily between increasingly loud squelches of his cock. wait; is your scolding only helping him get off even faster? oh, you can't make this shit up. "keep talkin' to me just like that, baby."

"first of all, don't call me baby," you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger in his direction with a scowl etching its way onto your features. "and secondly, if you're gonna do this... stuff right next-door to me, can't you atleast try to keep it down? some of us have work to do."

satoru rolls his eyes at this, as if he's somehow the one being inconvenienced here; but any real irritation quickly evaporates into pleasure when he starts fondling his heavy balls, tongue lewdly lolling out of his mouth like a bitch in heat.

"i-i'll keep quiet. shit— i'll do whatever you fuckin' want if you just... just get me over the edge here, pretty girl. hah— help a guy out, would you, roomie?"

and damn if that isn't an enticing offer. finally getting rid of the noise around here so you can actually submit a work assignment on time for once?

yeah... you're definitely on board.

"fine," you mutter, attempting to sound as uninterested as possible as you shuffle closer to the bed. "what do you want me to do, gojo? and don't even bother asking me to suck your dick or anything, because who knows the last time you properly washed that—"

satoru snorts out a strangled laugh, shaking his head quickly and peering up at you with wide, darkened cerulean eyes. "n-no... not that. just— just talk to me, please? and call me satoru, not gojo, damn."

"okay..." you huff thoughtfully, brainstorming what you can say to get this over as quickly as possible. eventually, you purr: "are you gonna be a dirty boy and make a mess all over your hand for me, satoru? hmm?"

and, to your surprise and... arousal? that's all it takes to get him to explode, thick ropes of sticky white cum trickling from the reddened tip of his cock as he whines in ecstasy.

huh. maybe your work can wait a little longer.

SUGURU GETO — THE ONE WHO MAKES YOUR PANTIES GO POOF!

suguru geto is a man of many talents.

but in his humble opinion, the one he is most proficient at? oh, it has to be stealing various pairs of his cute little roommate's panties without her even taking notice.

yeah; that's right, his entire underwear drawer is not actually filled with articles of his own clothing, but rather with scraps of material he has swiped from your room over the past few months.

"ugh, i lost another pair of panties!" comes a frustrated groan from you room; you must be on the phone to one of your friends, suguru muses. "i swear, it's like there's a black hole at the bottom of that washer or something."

ah, if only you knew.

if only you knew that while you're busy stressing over the mystery of your missing underwear, suguru is slumped just against the other side of the thin wall that separates your rooms, one of the aforementioned pairs wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock.

he does this more often than he would like to admit — waits until he hears you get on the phone to jerk himself off. why? well, because then he can listen to your pretty voice while he bucks up into his fist. that's why.

"such a clueless girl..." suguru mutters under his breath as his eyes flutter closed, letting himself get lost in the combination of the soft fabric of your panties surrounding his shaft and the sound of you speaking ringing in his ears. "has no idea where her precious underwear keeps wandering off to."

meanwhile, on the other side of the wall, you have a mischievous smile pulling at your lips as you pretend to be utterly oblivious about your panty thief to your confused friend on the other end of the phone.

as if you wouldn't work out it was suguru snatching them — after all, who else could it possibly be? but you figured it was better this way, letting him think he's holding all the cards in this situation.

it only makes it all the more enjoyable for you.

leaning a little closer to the wall, you can faintly hear the familiar sounds of him getting himself off as you slowly dip a hand beneath your own skirt; and you're not wearing underwear, of course, because you don't have a single pair left thanks to your roommate.

you end up dropping the phone carelessly to the ground when suguru's deep, satisfied groan sounds out from his room, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his orgasm swiftly brings you to your own.

so lost in your own pleasure are you that when the door softly clicks open, you don't have time to compose yourself before suguru strolls right on in, seeming much too casual for someone who just came in his hand.

"well well well," suguru hums smugly, tilting his head to the side and peering down at you with a condescending smile. "what do we have here, hmm? did you really think you could outsmart me, beautiful?"

oh.

maybe you really are clueless if you genuinely thought he didn't know you were pretending to be as such... but would it really be such a bad thing if he decides to punish you for your attempt at deception?

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE ONE WHO NEVER PAYS RENT!

toji rarely (if ever) pays his part of the rent for your shared apartment.

he doesn't even bother trying to lie to you and tell you he'll scrounge up enough cash to cover it next time it's due, because he already knows you wouldn't buy that for a second.

so, instead, he offers you something else to keep you sated. something that he can say without a shadow of a doubt he can give to you better than anyone else could even hope to.

cock.

because if he keeps you in a perpetual state of bliss underneath the sheets of his bed, how can you possibly have any time remaining to think of such trivial things like paying the entire monthly rent on your own?

"mmm... what was i saying again, toji?" you slur, voice just delirious with pleasure as he pounds into you from behind, one strong hand effortlessly keeping your face pressed against the mattress.

"nothin', baby," toji lies easily, threading his thick fingers through the back of your hair in a distractingly tender gesture as his mean hips keep up their ruthless pace. "just relax and let y'erself feel me, yeah?"

"but—" you protest weakly, followed by an involuntary hiccup as his pudgy cockhead reaches that spongy spot inside of you once again. "i have a feeling it was important..."

"nah," he grunts dismissively, free hand snaking down to where your bodies are connected to rub messy, stimulating circles around the puffy bud that is your clit. "don't worry about it, pretty."

"...okay. if you say so." you mumble eventually, brain far too hazy from his skilful ministrations to bother putting up much of a fight against his convincing words.

toji's scarred lips spread into a victorious grin behind your back at how easily you give in. he just loves having you like this — so cockdrunk you can't even remember what you were talking about from one moment to the next.

and when the time inevitably comes for you to pay the rent on behalf of both of you yet again, he already knows you won't bat an eye; because, in the big scheme of things, what's a little cash matter if it means you get to have access to his sinful dick game whenever you so desire?

yeah... he'd say it's a pretty fair trade.

but the best part of all is that toji thinks he's the mastermind behind this little arrangement when in reality, if you were looking for a roommate who could pay their rent, you would never have picked someone who looks as jobless as he does in the first place.

but you'll continue to let him believe it was his idea; because, after all, he fucks you better when he's feeling proud of himself.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SECRETLY PERVERTED ONE!

choso doesn't mean to be perverted; not really.

but whether intentional or not, he finds himself desperate for anything that reminds him of you each time he gets himself off: a t-shirt, a pair of underwear, or even one of the cute little plushies you have lined up on your bed.

he wonders, fleetingly, what you'd think of him if you could see him humping one of your stuffed toys while you're out at work — would you be disgusted? would you kick him out and start the search for a new roommate?

or would you, just maybe... take pity on the poor boy and lend him a helping hand?

by the benevolence of some undefined higher power, choso doesn't have to mull over the answer to his question for much longer. because apparently, he was so desperate to release the desire coursing through his veins that he forgot to check the time before starting like he usually would.

so when he hears the tell-tale sign of the door opening and indicating that you've just come home from work, he has nowhere near enough time to cover up what he's been up to in your room while you were gone.

well, shit.

"hey cho, what are you doing in my— oh." comes your dumfounded voice as you peek your head around the slightly ajar doorway, eyes widening in a manner akin to a cartoon character at the sight of his sinful state.

choso blushes profusely, attempting to hide his face by ducking it into his shoulder with a muffled whimper of embarrassment. to his horror, his pathetically hard cock is fully exposed to your view, nestled between the soft limbs of one of your plushies where he had previously been thrusting.

you both stay completely silent for a few long moments, neither of you daring to move a single muscle... but it isn't long before your body is climbing onto the bed to join him before your mind can even begin to process your movements.

"w-what are you doing?... are you gonna hit me? because that would be okay, you can d-definitely hit me if you want!" choso squeaks hurriedly, peeking out from his shoulder and looking for all the word like a puppy who just got caught doing something naughty by its owner.

"i'm not gonna hit you, choso," you chuckle softly, carefully tugging your abused, slightly sticky plushie out from underneath him and tossing it away. "i wanna help you. don't you wanna try doing that to something other than a stuffed toy, hmm?"

"...oh, f-fuck!" he whines loudly, hips rutting just once against the mattress before his cock cruelly betrays him and spurts buckets of cum at the mere thought of being inside of you.

choso hides his face in shame again, figuring he must've absolutely ruined his chances with you now. because there's no way you would still want to help him after witnessing that little display, right?

wrong.

when you tug his head away from his shoulder by one of his scraggly pigtails and pull him into a searing kiss, he realizes maybe his pretty little roommate was just as perverted as him all along.

KENTO NANAMI — THE RESPECTFUL ONE!

kento is very fond of you; his sweet roommate who always wakes him up for work in the morning if he happens to accidentally oversleep and leaves him homemade dinner in the fridge to cheer him up after a late shift.

he figures these things making him feel attraction towards you is fairly normal — but it's the other, not-so-intentional things that make him go crazy for you the most.

when he spots you walking around the apartment in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and a pair of socks because your clothes are in the communal washer... or when he silently observes you bend over to grab something from the bottom cupboard in the kitchen?

yeah, those are the things that really make it hard for him not to pounce on you like some kind of feral animal.

it all comes to a crux when you come home in tears one night, babbling about your fool of a boyfriend having the audacity to cheat on you. hmph, nanami never liked him anyway.

but there's no time for petty jealousies now — no, now is the time for him to make you realize that what you've been craving has been here all along, living in the room right next-door to yours.

so he pulls you into a gentle kiss, pouring all of his pent-up affection into the gesture as he effortlessly lifts you up onto the kitchen counter, positioning himself between your spread legs.

"i want to make you forget about him, beautiful," nanami whispers, voice rough with sincereness as he places a soft peck on the corner of your lips. "may i?"

and you're nodding shakily, but it isn't enough. he reaches up with a large hand to grasp your chin in a firm yet tender grip, thumb stroking over your skin. "use your words for me, dear. come on, i know you can do it."

"y-yes. please, kento."

and that's all it takes for nanami to fall to his knees, brushing his lips over the insides of your thighs as he slowly works his way upwards. god, he's wanted to do this for so long — if for nothing else then to thank you for taking such good care of him and never asking for anything in return.

but oh, is he going to give you something in return now; specifically, in the form of his hot mouth attached to your cunt, tongue lapping up every drop of your translucent juices as if it were the finest wine on the menu of a high class restaurant.

he can't help but wonder, while he's buried nose-deep in your sweet pussy, why on earth a man would choose to cheat on a goddess such as yourself.

but he supposes it doesn't matter, if it means that he's the one who finally gets to worship at your altar from now and for as long as you'll allow him the honour of doing so.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

[help-itrappedmyself]

Liminal Jason thing

I have no idea if this is omegaverse or if liminals are just weird little creatures, but here is this something.

Edit: part 2 exists and liminals are just weird little creatures

Jason was accustomed to his emotions controlling him. He works hard to make sure his initial, emotional response is not immediately enacted. However, he knows that his instincts are good. They have saved his life more times than he can count. And while some of his initial, emotional reactions could be considered a stronger response than warranted by the situation, they are always in the correct emotional field. 

So, when he hears a strange noise, a keen that vibrates through his chest, and everything in him wants to run towards it, he is able to keep himself from running off immediately. Instead, he stops on the rooftop he was about to jump off of and looks around for anything that could have made that noise. 

He doesn’t see anything, but he can still feel the vibrations the noise caused. The desperate plea for help he heard in it echoing in his ribcage. His instincts all scream at him that he needs to find the noise and help whoever made it. But he doesn’t know where it came from.

He needs to help. He jumps two roofs over in the direction he thinks it came from. Red Robin, who was patrolling with him after they concluded a stakeout, had stopped and is now watching him as he looks around. Jason taps into his comm to explain, but then he hears it again, sharper this time, piercing his sternum and vibrating it like a tuning fork, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from running towards it as fast as possible. 

“Hood!” Jason hears the shout of confusion as he leaves Red behind. 

Jason runs towards the noise like he’s never run in his life. There’s something bubbling in his chest, trying to come out, but he is able to push it down as he approaches an old abandoned building. It looks partially destroyed, the roof caved into the upper floor. Risky place, even for squatters, but he climbs through a window on the ground floor anyway. 

He stops to turn on a flashlight, looking around for the sound again. He hears Red coming in behind him, sees the light from a second flashlight turn on.

“Hood, what are we doing here?” Jason continues looking around, taking a few steps further into the building.

There’s a large desk that probably used to be a security or a reception area over to the left, closer to the large main doors. He sees a hallway in front of him, full of doors. Over to his left is a large open space, tables and chairs cluttered around, most of them partially broken and on their sides. This probably used to be a hotel before it collapsed. 

“Hood, give me some information here.”

“We’re following the noise, Red, and I won’t be able to hear it if you keep talking.” Jason sent a look Red’s way, but Red just looks confused.

In the background, Jason knows Red asks “What noise?”, but just as he asks, Jason hears it again. Lower and quieter, a scared and sad sound that cries alone-help-alone. It’s coming from the room with the tables and chairs. Probably the breakfast and lounge area.

Jason heads in quickly, and that feeling bubbling in his chest starts again, and this time he can’t keep it down. What leaves his throat is a soft rumble that he immediately translates to comfort-safe-friend. And before he can fully realize how weird that is, and that he has no idea how he made that noise there’s movement in front of him. 

A head pokes out from behind a toppled table. Blue eyes stare straight at him and he watches as the figure makes a whine and he hears alone-help-please. The figure looks intensely at Jason, a question in its eyes. 

Jason, assuming his instincts have done him well so far, lets them take the lead. He opens his mouth, and a churr comes out. Another sound he has never made before, doesn’t know how or if he could do it again. But it trills out comfort-safe-promise. And Jason has no time to doubt his decision because the figure, the kid jumps over the table and runs to him. 

In his periphery, Jason knows Red readies himself for an attack. But Jason just bends down, and grabs the kid as he jumps into his arms, chest already rumbling with comfort-safe-friend again. The kid is light and cold, and on second inspection is probably a teenager, but is still a child and Jason knows he needs to get him somewhere warm and safe. 

The kid starts crying softly in his arms as he stands and turns to face Red.

Red, to his credit, does not blurt out the thousands of questions he must be thinking right now.

“He needs help.” Jason starts walking back to the window they came in from. 

“Where are we taking him?” Red follows, and the trust he’s showing Jason right now is helping him keep his freak-out on what the fuck is happening on the inside.

“Safe house nearby.”

[gilverrwrites]

Some fluff with Bruce : him giving you his mothers pearls… ;) it could be a wedding gift or any other special occasion idk ❤️

Me? Writing fluff again? It's one of my favourite things to do but damn I do it so rarely! Warnings: None!

Standing at 6’2 and weighing easily 210 lbs, your husband-to-be isn’t exactly hard to miss, or so one might think. A lifetime of skulking around on rooftops, and blending into the shadows meant Bruce was very good at only being seen or heard when he wanted to be. You’ve long since come to terms with that fact, but in your bridal suite, moments before your wedding is not the time or place.

You tell him as much as soon as you notice his reflection in the vanity mirror. He’s imposing, even with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his charcoal suit, the very same one his father had worn decades ago to his own wedding, tailored somewhat to allow for Bruce’s abundance of muscles.

Blue eyes watch you intensely as you scarper behind the wicker folding screen, but you don’t miss how the wrinkles around his eyes scrunch up, amused, as he half-grins at your dramatic reaction. Bruce has never been a particular stickler for traditions or superstition, but for some reason, you’d expected this one to be a no-brainer.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad luck- “

“For the groom to see the bride on their wedding day, I know, I know, but I had to see you.” His voice grows louder with each silent step he takes until he’s standing directly in front of you. Less than a half-inch of woven wood acts as the only barrier to his line of sight.

“Well, you can’t!” You chide, your tone is light but firm.

“I…” He hesitates, unconsciously kicking his feet against the soft carpet, and tentatively you peek around the divider to watch as he considers his words. For all that he has done, the leading, the strategising, the saving the world over and over, Bruce has never been good at speaking from the heart. It’s another trait you’ve learned to love, it means that when he does, he really means it.

“Yes, Bruce?” Careful to expose as little of your attire as possible, you tilt your head around the screen to peek at him.

“I brought you something. Your something borrowed, or old. I don't know but it would mean the world to me if you would wear them. If you could, that is.” You watch as he draws his hands from his pockets, ever so carefully and composedly revealing a string of shining ivory pearls. They are not wrapped or boxed, too beautifully delicate and familiar to warrant any eccentricities. You’d seen them a million times before, but never would you have considered having them situated around your own neck. They were far too important to Bruce for that.

“Are those… your mothers?” He nods in reply, leaning closer as he stretches his open hand to you. Hesitantly, you meet his hand in the middle, ghosting your fingers across the smooth gemstones, too cautious to take them.  

“My parents, their legacy…” Bruce goes on, his voice is so deep, so close to your ear it almost makes you lightheaded. “For the longest time I thought Gotham was the only thing that could compare with regards to who or what I care about but then Dick came along, then Barbara and Jason, and so on. Before I’d even noticed it, I cared about so much. My heart was practically full.”

“Awh, you’re such a softie Bruce.” You tease. Dusky pink builds in his cheeks as he chuckles, smile growing when his eyes lock onto your own grin. Simultaneously, his free hand clasps over your own, pressing your bare hands into his mother’s necklace before he continues.

“Almost full.” He states. “There was just enough room left for you. The last piece. You complete me and I couldn’t possibly know what my parents would think about all this, of you, but I like to believe they would approve, that they would want this. Want what makes me happy.”

“And wearing these, what would make you happy?” You ask.

“Exceedingly.” He confirms.

“Then how could I say no.”

His breath hitches, eyes examining every inch of you appreciatively as you step out from behind the divider, as if he hadn’t already committed whatever view he’d caught of you in the mirror to memory. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you don’t look too shabby yourself.” As you speak, you turn away from him, somewhat awkwardly with your hands still linked, until your back is to his chest. He gets the point quickly, unlinking your fingers and ghosting his strong, warm fingers over your shoulders before unclasping the pendant you’d planned to wear for the ceremony until a moment prior.

“Mrs Wayne.” You sigh quietly, watching through the vanity reflection in the corner as Bruce carefully readorns your neck. “Those are gonna be some big shoes to fill.”

“Not at all. Martha Wayne certainly was not the Wayne ideal when she married my father, and she never changed a thing about herself to fit in. Or so I’m told.” Bruce presses a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Keep being who you are. It’s what I want, and I know for certain it’s what she would have wanted too.”

[captain-bubble-wrap]

May I have a pregnancy announcement with Quinn? 🥹 Can you make her nervous, please??????

One nervous expentant mother coming up!

This couldn’t be happening right now. There was no way what you were seeing was correct. 

For the last month or more you had noticed things that weren’t your normal. You had tried to explain them away as just PMS symptoms, but the nausea was the one thing that was the tell-tale red flag. The mood swings were nothing new, but they hadn’t gone away. Poor Quinn had been walking on eggshells for weeks on end despite having done nothing to warrant your attitude. Everything else just aligned with your cycle paying you a visit, however it never came around. You had been more stressed as of late, and a missed period wasn’t something you experienced often, but enough that you didn’t freak out initially. However, with everything stacking up, you bought a pregnancy test to hopefully clear your mind of any uncertainty. 

Now, you stood alone in the bathroom, braced against the vanity while the timer on your phone ticked down to the last remaining seconds, although the test was very clearly completed. The blue plus-sign was the darkest shade of blue on both of the lines that the test could produce. It was a definite positive. With hands over your mouth in glaring realization, you stood there staring at it, trembling. Quinn was just beyond the bathroom door, unaware of the news you now had to give him. 

How would he take it?

You weren’t married; you weren’t even engaged, yet here you were, feeling mocked by the pregnancy test sitting there on the counter. You couldn’t hide the fact now and this was no false-positive. You had to tell him. Your fingers were still shaking when you reached for it, nearly dropping it once it was between your fingers. “Shit~” You spat, just under your breath. You needed to get yourself in order or this was going to be so much harder. By this point, you had no idea how long had you been locked in the bathroom; how long did the test take again?

You tiptoed from the bathroom, hoping you’d find him not in the middle of something so you could get it over with as soon as possible, still unsure what his reaction was going to be. He was in the living room, feet up on the ottoman, streaming a Thursday Night Football game. He hadn’t noticed you approach until you squeaked out his name. 

“Quinn?”

The first time you said it, he hadn’t heard you. The second time, however, it was more shaky and a touch louder, “Quinn?”

The change in your tone was what pulled his attention away from the broadcast. The look on your face had pulled him to his feet. 

"What’s wrong, baby?” His face was drenched in concern and immediate dread. He knew you better than anyone and even he hadn’t seen you like this before. “You look really pale. Why don’t you sit down?”

The test wand was tucked in the palm of your hand and braced against your wrist. When Quinn asked you to sit on the sofa, you did so, but crossed your arms over  your stomach, further helping you conceal the test until you were ready to finally break the news. He was looking at you with such worry. For some reason you thought he would be eyeing you with suspicion, but your rational brain knew Quinn wasn’t that way. 

He’d sit right next to you, both of you turned towards the other slightly. Your eyes were down, staring at your knees before his hands touched you gently. His soft affection made you jump even though you saw it coming. It was like you were split between two different places. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, never dreaming you would have jumped at his touch. 

Your heart was beating so quickly, you couldn’t tell if you had said your reply loud enough because all you could hear was the thumping in your ears. “No.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Still, your eyes were down, unable to look at his worried face. Quinn would actually bend down hoping to catch your gaze. When your eyes met, you began to cry. It was just too hard to keep the amped up emotions inside any longer. 

“Oh, baby! Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” He reached forward, pulling hair behind you ear; his warm touch grazing your ear. “I’m really worried about you.”

“Quinn, I’m~,” you mumbled, your eyes flipping between both of his for something to focus on. “I’m...”

“Hmm?” Quinn’s tone was sympathetic, soft, and unhurried. He had his emotions reined in while you were running a thousand miles an hour. 

“I’m...pregnant.” Immediately, you broke down, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you sobbed.

To say Quinn was shocked would have been an understatement. He wanted to smile, to be excited, but seeing you react like you were stopped his celebration. He’d hold your face with both of his hands and kiss you so passionately. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart! This is incredible!” 

You’d sniffle once he parted from your lips. Reaching up to wipe your eyes, you forgot the test was in your hand, and it would drop from your lap to the floor. Quinn would beat you to picking it up and when his eyes saw the positive indicator he grinned. “Oh baby, I love you! Please, don’t cry! I’m so happy!”

Words were still hard for you; you were still sobbing, though you didn’t know why other than your hormones were running without restraint. Instead, you reached for him, and he took you in his arms immediately. 

"Baby, baby, baby! It’s okay!” He hushed, one hand on your back, the other smoothing your hair. “Happy tears, okay?”

This made you cry more, buried into his neck as your fingers clawed into his back. 

“Shhh, you’re okay. Everything is fine, sweetheart. I want you to be happy...” his voice dropped off, his non-hormonal stressed brain making a very irrational thought appear. “Do you not want to have the baby?”

You pushed back from him, eyes wide and in shock as you searched his face. “Of course I do! I’m just... I don’t know how to feel right now I’m so confused! I’m so sorry!” 

He gave you a smile, “You have a lot going on, babe! It’s okay to be all over the place!” Quinn’s fingers tightened ever so slightly. “I love you so much!”

"I love you, too!” You continued to weep, just wanting to smile and share in his happiness. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset? Absolutely not! Why would I be?”

“Because we weren’t even...we hadn’t talked about this.”

“Everything for a reason, baby,” he smiled wider. “I can’t wait to let mom know. She’s going to go crazy!”

Your face went completely white. Both of your families had to be told, how had you forgotten? You struggled to tell Quinn, how were you going to handle telling two separate families of this news? 

“We’ll tell them together, okay?” He added, seeing the immediate change in your expression. “We’ve plenty of time. Right now, all I care about is you and how you’re doing. I know the last month hasn’t been easy, and this explains a lot.”

“I’m so sorry I’ve been so mean to you, Quinn!”

“No, no, don’t cry! I’m alright, so just let that go.” He smiled again. “You’re okay.”

Falling against his chest again, you’d put your chin on his shoulder and whimper. Everything was hitting you at once and all you wanted was a break from feeling like an emotional nutcase. Quinn, on the other hand had taken to rocking you gently.

"Everything it okay, baby. I promise you. I couldn’t be more happy right now! To have a little family with you, I can’t lie, I’ve had daydreams about it. Now, it’s going to happen and I’m so happy!”

"Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll make sure you have everything you need, okay? I’ll go with you to as many appointments as I can and I’ll take care of you every step of the way.”

“Quinny,” you finally smiled. “You’re so sweet.”

“Anything for you and our little baby.”

[smutstevington]

Resensitized | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You need a place to move in, and your new friend has a spare room. Turns out, he's a porn star, and now you can't stop thinking about him. What ever will you do?

Part 2 here and part 3 here :)

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: MINORS DNI PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING, smut, Pornstar!Eddie x fem reader (no defining characteristics or use of y/n), modern day, friends to lovers...kind of? Fingering, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v, the knee thing™️, Eddie is a soft dom but also a simp, reader is his exception, and they were roommates(!)

A/N: I'm baaaaack! I was randomly inspired by this concept and couldn't stop thinking about it until it was done. Please know I wrote this with as much respect to sex work as I could, but there might be some inaccuracies just because I'm not too familiar with the industry nowadays. Until next time! xx

-------------------

You met Eddie at a party. He was a friend of a friend’s plus one, so he didn’t really know anybody, and you noticed nobody was talking to him, so you went over there and struck up a conversation.

Eddie was sweet. Eddie was goofy. Eddie was a little rough around the edges, but ultimately gave you good vibes. You ended up talking to him for quite a while, and when the night came to an end, you realized you didn’t want to stop talking to him. 

It wasn’t, like, a crush thing - although, he was handsome and definitely crush material - it was more that it was hard making friends as an adult, and you liked being around him. So many times, you’d met people and left them just as fast, and you didn’t want that to happen with Eddie.

You gave him your Instagram, which he followed, and then you requested to follow him back, which he accepted. 

You didn’t talk much for a month or two. He didn’t really post anything, but would comment or react to your posts and stories. Most often, you complained about your living situation - your landlord and your roommates were awful, and eventually your lease came to an end. You jokingly posted - “who’s gonna help me find a new apartment?”

Eddie replied - I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I might be able to help.

It turned out that Eddie had a room vacant in his two-bedroom apartment. The idea seemed kind of out there at first, but you realized it wasn’t much different than searching for roommates online. Besides, this was safer, since you knew Eddie already, and you couldn’t afford an apartment by yourself, so…

You went over to look at his place, and holy shit. It was incredible there. Clean, although slightly cluttered with his various belongings - movie posters, music, video games, and the like. Also, the rent he was asking for was absurdly low. It felt like a no-brainer.

“Eddie, this is - I mean, this is perfect,” you told him. He grinned. 

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “Uhh, there’s just one thing I feel like I should tell you before you move in.”

“What is it?” you asked. Suddenly, you saw Eddie get nervous, and you couldn’t possibly predict what would warrant that reaction. He took a deep breath. 

“Maybe you already know, but it feels like you don’t know? So I just - ugh. If you don’t know, I think I gotta tell you.” You stared at him, confused.

“Eddie, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

He smirked slightly, then sighed as his hands fell to his sides.

“I…do…porn?” he said at last. You stared at him blankly as you processed this.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate,” you replied. “Like OnlyFans?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “Look, I - I’ve done it for a few years, and I guess I’m kinda popular. It’s why a lot of the time, people stay away from me, because it puts them off. Or, they’re embarrassed about recognizing me, which I guess I understand. But anyway, that’s why I was surprised you never said anything or asked me about it. Judging by your reaction, I’m guessing you had no idea.” 

Huh.

“I…really didn’t.” 

It wasn’t that you were judging him - not at all - but living with someone who did that sort of thing brought up all kinds of questions. Eddie’s anxiety returned. 

“Ah, shit. That ruined everything, didn’t it?” He ran his hands through his hair. “I just - It’s how I make money, but it’s not my whole life or anything. But I felt like you should at least know about it if you were gonna live with me.”

“Do you do any of it here?” you asked. Eddie shrugged.

“Sometimes.”

You nodded slowly.

“Like, in the living room or just your room?” His eyes narrowed as he tried to assess how you felt through your line of questioning.

“Uhh - my room. I mean, I guess there was one time on the couch, but for the record I’ve gotten a new couch since then. Oh, and if you move in and don’t want me filming anything here, I won’t. Not even solo stuff. Shit. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, I just have a pretty casual view on sex and I kind of forget that not everybody -”

“I think I’m okay with this,” you decided. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You looked around the beautiful apartment that would save you a crap ton of money, and you realized you couldn't pass this up. Besides, you weren’t a prude. “My last roommates had loud sex all the time, and our walls were so thin it felt like I was intruding, somehow.” Eddie laughed, his anxiety easing slightly. “Plus, I don’t care what you do. I bet it’s good money. As long as I’m not in any of the videos, we’re good to go.”

“Wow,” he responded, stunned. “I honestly didn’t expect you to be so cool about it.” You shrugged.

“Just don’t eat my food and we should be fine,” you concluded. 

“Deal,” he replied. You shook his hand, and thus began your time as Eddie Munson’s roommate.

-

Ohhhh, this was a mistake.

Living with Eddie was a total breeze for the first two months. He was respectful and didn’t talk about work at all unless you asked him about it, which you didn’t. You both were pretty busy people so you didn’t even see each other that often. 

But then, two months in, you got curious and watched one of his videos.

Holy. Shit.

First of all, you couldn’t believe you’d never stumbled across him before in your searches, because he was, like, really popular. He’d undersold himself, for sure. Although, you didn’t watch porn that often (you preferred reading it or listening to it), because usually there was something off about it. Like, the women felt like they were acting, or they weren’t even trying to hide that they were acting and were really bad at it, or the dirty talk was weird, etc etc. 

Eddie’s videos were not like that. 

(Yeah, after the first one you watched a few more).

Look, the man knew what he was doing. He had chemistry with everyone, and something about it was captivating. It’s not like you were getting off to them - that would have been weird - but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you the fuck on.

He hadn’t been lying either about the locations. None of the videos you’d watched were recorded at the apartment. 

You weren’t sure if you would have cared if they had been, though. Like, as long as any shared furniture was cleaned after, it wasn’t a huge deal, right? Pretty much every couch anywhere you go has been used for sex at some point. So, this wasn’t much different.

Anyway, watching Eddie’s videos had been a mistake, because now when you saw him in the morning, pouring himself a cup of coffee in his robe, you knew what he looked like naked.

Fuck.

“Morning,” he said casually. “Want some?” You nodded, and then he took another mug from the cupboard and poured coffee into it for you. When you went to the kitchen counter to grab it from him, his knuckles brushed yours, and you jumped a little at the touch. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. You went to the fridge and took the creamer from the shelf, then topped off your coffee with it. 

“How’d you sleep?” you asked. 

“Good,” he replied. “Oh, so I’m going to the grocery store in a bit. You need anything?” You took a sip of your coffee before answering. 

“Uhhh, yeah, but I was actually planning on going myself,” you said. 

“We could go together,” he suggested.

You took another sip of coffee as a way to stall, even though it was too hot. You had no reason from his perspective to say no - the two of you had gone on errands together a few times, and it had been fine. Besides, you legitimately had to go to the grocery store, so if you said no and went later it would just look suspicious.

”Sounds good,” you agreed with a smile. He smiled back, then nodded. 

“Great, just let me know when you’re ready.”

You finished your coffee in your room, because being around him was making you nervous. It was so dumb, feeling this way. Nothing had changed. You were the same people you’d been yesterday. Watching that video was an incredibly poor choice, but at the same time, how were you supposed to refrain? You lived with a guy who was famous for getting women off. You wondered how you hadn’t known any of this when you’d first met him, but then pieces came together. The reason he was alone at the party. Why his Instagram was private. Why he didn’t have a roommate. 

When you agreed to move in, you promised yourself you wouldn’t be weird about it, and now here you were, hiding in your room because you were too awkward to maintain small talk with your roommate. 

Eventually, you got dressed and psyched yourself up for what was to come. You just had to get those videos out of your mind, that’s all. 

Easy enough, right?

Wrong!

“Did you listen to the song I sent you yesterday?” he asked as you walked to the car.

“Uh, no, not yet,” you replied. He clutched his heart as if you had broken it, then laughed.

“Okay, well then I guess I know what we’re listening to on the way.”

Once again, all of this should have been easy like it always was. But you couldn’t stop staring at his hands on the steering wheel, the rings on his fingers, and - God forbid - his lips. And his eyes? Forget it. 

“Good song,” you said, staring straight ahead at the road.

“Of course it is, I picked it out,” he teased. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral vision. “Everything okay? You’re quiet today.”

“Everything’s fine,” you blurted out, maybe too quickly to be convincing. 

“Ooookay,” he responded. “Well, I don’t believe you, but you can keep your secrets.”

You remained slightly awkward and flustered around him, particularly any time he touched you. He’d tap you on the shoulder to get your attention, or reach across you to grab a bunch of bananas that you were standing in front of, and it came to a point where you told him you had to go off on your own to grab something just because you knew you were totally giving yourself away. But after a few more minutes to yourself in the chips aisle, you felt relatively normal again. 

Disaster only really struck on the way home. 

“So, this tattoo place on the right,” he said. “That’s where I usually go. The guy who works there is incredible. His designs are sick as hell.”

“How many do you have?” you asked. He scrunched his eyebrows as he thought about it.

“I guess it depends on what you’d count as one,” he replied. “Like, I have almost a half-sleeve on my right arm, but I didn’t get it all done at once.”

“Count them however you’d like.” He thought about it some more, then shrugged. 

“I have a lot of them, and I always want more.” 

“I’ve heard it’s addictive,” you replied. “So, what would you get next?”

“I’m thinking about adding to the one on my thigh,” he answered. 

“The witch?” you asked. He raised his eyebrows. The tattoo on his thigh was pretty iconic, actually. It was a woman on a broomstick with her tits out. Not something you would ever personally get, but Eddie pulled it off. “Are you going to give her a friend? Or a bra?”

Eddie snorted laughing, then covered his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. It didn’t work, and he burst into laughter again.

“Come on, my joke wasn’t that funny,” you said, rolling your eyes. Eddie’s laughter finally faded enough for him to explain. 

“I never told you what the tattoo was,” he informed you. Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake.

“I - um -”

“That’s what’s going on! You looked me up!” he exclaimed. Despite your absolute humiliation, he seemed to only find it amusing. “Don’t get all shy about it. It’s fine. I’m honestly impressed you held out this long.”

“Can we not talk about it?” you asked, trying to awkwardly laugh with him but mostly wishing you were six feet underground. 

“Whatever you want, roomie,” he replied with a grin. “I’m just glad I didn’t do anything wrong.” You bit your lip, then released it.

“No, you did pretty much everything exactly right,” you responded, deciding to lean into the awkward situation. Eddie licked his lips and smirked. 

“Good to hear,” he said, smug. He pulled into your apartment complex, parked the car, and took the keys from the ignition. You felt like you couldn’t breathe in there, so you rushed out of the car and made a beeline for your front door as soon as you were able. He caught up as you worked the lock open, and you could feel his eyes on your shaking hands. “You know, you’re cute when you blush,” he said.

The door unlocked and you pushed it open, but it’s not like the apartment you shared with him was going to be any less charged. You tried to continue acting less nervous than you were. 

“Oh, you’re flirting with me now?” you teased, leaving your keys on the counter. His voice continued behind you.

“I flirt with everyone,” he said. “Sorry, I’ll reel it in. Just, we were talking about -”

“No, I know,” you interrupted. You turned around, deciding to face this situation head on, since you were already knee-deep in it anyway. “Okay, let’s talk about it.” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“About what I do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. What do you wanna know?”

You took a deep breath and asked something that you’d been wondering for the last two months.

“Is it weird, knowing that most people you know have seen you naked?” 

Eddie didn’t seem fazed by the question in the slightest - not that you expected him to be. He shrugged.

“I like the way I look,” he replied. “It actually doesn’t bother me at all.” You clicked your tongue to your teeth and asked another question.

“Does anything about it bother you?” To your surprise, he took the question seriously, taking his time as he came up with a response.

“It definitely feels like I live in a different world a lot of the time,” he answered. “Like, I go to work, I meet the person I’m supposed to fuck, and then I do whatever I gotta do to get them off. That’s all it is, really. After a while, it just feels like going through the motions. The excitement isn’t really there anymore. On the other hand, I make a shit ton of money to have sex with beautiful people, so…”

You tried to ignore the way the heat rose to your cheeks as he talked about work. From what you’d seen, it was clear that not one person had faked their enjoyment for him. Of course, it made you a little curious what it would be like, but not curious enough to do anything about it.

At least, not yet.

“You’ve never, like, caught feelings?” you asked. “Or maybe gotten coffee with one of them? Wait, do you ever have sex off camera?”

“Wooow, you’ve really been thinking about this, huh?” he teased, jumping up to sit on the counter beside you. Being next to him was starting to feel comfortable again, now that you were speaking freely. “Uhh, well for starters, I don’t have sex off-camera very often, honestly. My job doesn’t make it that easy to date. And yeah, I’ve met up with partners after if I feel like we’d get along, but I don’t know. It always feels more like friendship than anything else.” You cocked your head curiously.

“But you had sex with them,” you pointed out, confused.

“You’ve never fucked one of your friends before?” he asked. You shook your head. “Oh. Well, like I said, my perception of this kind of thing is a little skewed.”

You nodded slowly, then realized those were all of your main questions. Talking about it actually did make things a whole lot better. 

“Thank you for being so open about it,” you told him.

“Thank you for sticking around,” he replied. “And seriously, you can ask me anything. Or, we can never talk about it again. Up to you.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I’ll let you know.”

He went off to do his thing and you did yours, and that was that. Things went back to normal again, more or less - at least for another week. 

The problem was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. When you were trying to sleep at night, your curiosity coursed through you to search his name again, and it became increasingly difficult not to succumb to it. You didn’t want to cross that line, though. It felt like a necessary boundary to have. 

Instead, you did what you usually did. You read, you listened, you pictured things in your head.

Your mind always wandered to your roommate anyway. 

One night, Eddie had left, and he was supposed to be gone until morning. You used it as an opportunity to walk around naked, watch romantic comedies on the couch, and listen to music he’d hate as loudly as you wanted. It was glorious. 

You were in your room dancing in a t-shirt and underwear, and it was turning out to be an excellent night. Eventually, your friend called, so you chatted with her for a bit on speaker phone as you put away your laundry. Naturally, Eddie came up. 

“Okay,” she said. “There’s a really simple solution here, and it’s to fuck your hot Sex-God of a roommate.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not simple, and it’s not a solution,” you replied. “And our relationship isn’t like that. I can’t believe you looked him up.”

“Of course I looked him up! One of us had to!” your friend shouted back. “And, can I just say - damn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you responded with a sigh. “I’m just trying to be…respectful.”

“It sounds like he doesn’t care at all,” your friend noted. “But I get it, I guess. You’re a lot stronger than I’ll ever be.” You laughed.

“Thank you, I think I deserve a medal for going through this while also not having had sex in six months.”

“Absolutely,” your friend agreed. “Alright, girlie, I’m headed to bed. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hung up the phone and hung a few sweaters up in your closet, then walked into the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. The problem was, when you got there, you realized that Eddie had beat you to it.

“Want something?” he asked, bent over into the fridge.

“Fuck!” you yelled, jumping back. “What are you -? Why are you - ? When did you -?” Eddie laughed and grabbed two beers from the fridge, then closed the door and handed you one. 

“Relax,” he said. “My plans fell through so I came home early. I like your pants, by the way.” You looked down at yourself to realize you weren’t wearing any. You chuckled, then pushed him away from you.

“Dick,” you said, cracking the can open. He did the same, and then you clinked your beers together before each taking a sip. “Thank god I’m wearing some clothes. I wasn’t a few hours ago.” 

“That’s hot,” he teased. 

“Shut up.” You turned to go back to your room so you could put real pajamas on, and were confused when he followed you in. 

“Your friend has a point by the way,” Eddie said. You froze in your tracks, then pivoted to face him.

“What?” you asked, your stomach dropping to the floor. “Wait, how much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Uhhh, well I definitely heard that whole last part about me,” he replied. “Six months, by the way? I agree, you do deserve an award for that.” 

Jesus Christ.

“Oh my God I have to move out,” you said. Eddie laughed, then pulled you closer to him by the wrist. You felt your breath hitch at being so close to him. Your eyes met his, and you immediately felt hypnotized. 

“Listen,” he said, his grip on your wrist burning into your skin. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but six months is a long time, and I could help out if you wanted.”

“Eddie, are you seriously suggesting…?” The corner of his lip twitched up slightly.

“It wouldn’t mean anything, obviously. I just know you’re curious, and since you’re going through a dry spell or whatever I could be of service. And then it would be out of the way, and you could move on.”

You stared at him, having a million thoughts at once.

Yes, you wanted that very much. The thought of it alone was already making your core ache and throb for him. You knew he would blow your mind, and it had been so long…

Then again, you also knew it was a horrible idea. You both lived together, and having sex would complicate things. Most of all, you knew that - despite what he was saying - it would mean something, and you wouldn’t move on. He could, but you couldn’t. That’s not how it worked for you.

“I can’t,” you said. He nodded and dropped your hand.

“Alright,” he replied casually. “Then you should go fuck someone else so you stop thinking about me.”

“I’m not thinking about -”

“Good night,” he smirked.

He left your room, and you heard him walk to his own room and shut the door. 

He was probably right. You needed to break your dry spell. So, you did what any sensible person would do and re-downloaded Tinder. By the following night, you’d found a suitable guy to hook up with.

You invited him to your apartment instead of going to his, because it felt safer. And Eddie unshockingly had no problems with it, so that wasn’t an issue. He said he was going to stay in his room and listen to music, and to just text him when you were done. 

So…you did that. 

The sex was bad. Like, remarkably bad. The man clearly had relied on his good looks and big dick and felt like that was enough. The worst part was that he thought he was nailing it the whole time. He was only over for about 45 minutes total, after which you told him you had to get to bed. He seemed disappointed, but also he’d just had sex so he wasn’t too bummed about it. 

You texted Eddie, and within a few minutes you heard his door open and his footsteps approaching your room from down the hall. 

“Damn, he’s gone already?” he teased, staring out the window to see your Tinder hook-up driving away. “That’s a shame. I wanted to meet the man that caused you to do the worst fake orgasm sounds I’ve ever heard.” 

“Eddie!” you yelled, wrapping your robe tighter around yourself. “You said you wouldn’t listen!” 

“I got curious! Sue me!” he shouted back. “Now we’re even. Curiosity got the best of both of us.”

You stared at him for a moment, then realized he was right. You sighed.

“Fine,” you said. “Thanks for recommending I do that, by the way. Now my body count is higher and my dignity is shattered.” Eddie laughed.

“Body counts are bullshit anyway,” he replied. “Sorry he couldn’t get you there.”

“Guys usually can’t,” you told him. Which was true - you mainly could only come using toys, and most guys seemed intimidated at the idea of using them. Like it was emasculating or something.

“I bet I could,” Eddie said with a smirk.

“I bet you could, too,” you agreed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Have fun,” he teased. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the bathroom. 

Showering did clear your mind a bit, but made you no less sexually frustrated. You tried to touch yourself, but weren’t getting anywhere, so you just got yourself clean instead. You put a fresh pair of underwear on and wrapped your robe around yourself, then headed back to your room. 

Eddie was right beside your door - leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He eyed you up and down, then took a step towards you.

“I have a question,” he said. 

“Um, okay.”

“Have you ever gotten off to my videos?” 

He asked it so casually, you needed a minute to even comprehend what he was saying, and even longer to realize he wasn’t kidding.

“Eddie, what the hell?” you replied. You tried to maintain your composure, but your attempts were futile. Especially when he looked at you like that. 

“I’ve just been wondering,” he continued. “Curiosity, that’s all.” You swallowed. 

“Not to any of your videos,” you answered. 

“To the thought of me?”

Yes. Not intentionally, but yes.

Your breathing became shaky, his words enough to get you worked up again.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice soft. 

“I’m helping you out,” he responded. “Salvaging your night.” He hooked his finger into the tie around your waist, then tugged you even closer to him. “I mean, if you want me to. The offer is there.”

Fuck it. You were tired of fighting your attraction to him. You nodded. 

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s just get it over with.” He smiled. “How do we start? Should I lie down? Is there anything off limits? What do I-”

“Don’t think about it,” he said, answering your line of questioning by silencing you. “Get on the bed.” He let go of you so you could walk into your room and follow his orders. You watched him rub his hands together and crack his knuckles as if he was getting ready to go to work - which made sense, all things considered. Then, he followed your footsteps to your bed and made his way towards you until he was settled beside you.

His hand trailed up your body until it settled in your hair. He gripped it tightly so he could angle your head to the side, then leaned over and pressed light kisses to your neck that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Do you like things on the gentle side or more rough?” he asked against your skin. 

“Healthy mix of both,” you answered. He hummed in approval, then licked a stripe up your neck until his lips were to your ear. 

“Talk to me during, okay?” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

Okay, this was officially worth it no matter the consequences.

“I like what you’re doing,” you responded. You felt his mouth return to where it had been before, except this time he found a sensitive spot and sucked on it. You gasped, so he did it again, harder. 

“Hickies?” he asked. 

“I’d rather not have them, but also please don’t stop,” you muttered. Your eyes fluttered closed as you enjoyed the sensations. His lips were soft but firm, and every point of contact with him felt like it was on fire.

“I can work with that.” 

While he continued kissing and nipping at your neck, his hand left your hair to snake down and pull the tie on your robe until it was undone. 

You expected him to take your robe off like he was unwrapping a gift - quickly and without precision - but instead he took his time with you. He was slow and deliberate with every action, opening you beneath him little by little and addressing each new exposed part of you before moving on and continuing. He groped at one of your breasts while kissing you, then kissed down your neck and to your other breast. His lips settled on your left nipple while his fingers worked the right one - pinching, sucking, biting, driving you absolutely crazy. 

“Fuck,” you moaned. “N-need more.” He released your nipple from his mouth with a pop.

“More what?”

“Everything,” you whined. You would have been embarrassed by how into this you were, but you were too busy enjoying to feel anything other than pleasure. “More. Harder.”

“Mmm,” he said. He adjusted his technique, now grasping at you more intensely. He grabbed the soft skin at your waist and squeezed, then curled around to cradle your lower back. His lips returned to your neck, and this time he bit and sucked so hard you let out a yelp.

“Too much?” he asked, leaning back to gauge the look on your face.

“No,” you responded. “I love it.” He nodded and got back to it, continuing to suck at your pulse point while his knee dipped between your thighs to push them apart. He bent his leg to slowly drag his knee up until it reached your center. It rubbed against you, hard, causing you to let out a gasp.

“Oh, shit,” you said, your voice desperate. “Do that again.” So he did, and then you found yourself grinding against his knee at your own pace. You were definitely going to leave a wet spot on his jeans, but he didn’t seem to care. Your breathing picked up, and you clutched at his hand so you could lead it to the band of your panties. He slid his fingers beneath the fabric and down your slit, spreading you open and exploring the parts of you most slick with desire. He circled your clit while he kissed your collarbone, slipped one finger inside you as he bit at your breast, then added a second finger and rolled them inside you until they found the soft, spongy spot that caused your eyes to roll back in your head. His mouth latched onto your nipple, tongue circling it in time with his thumb down below. You rocked your hips against his hand, needing more pressure. You needed him to fuck you, actually, but he seemed to be in no rush of doing so. 

Your stomach tightened as you felt yourself rising for him. He was going to make you come already, when he hadn’t even been touching you for that long. 

Suddenly, you were cresting over the edge. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to prepare or warn Eddie, although he seemed to know it was happening before you did. 

You gasped and moaned and cried out his name, your vision completely blacked out. Your hips continued to buck and your legs started shaking. Eventually, the waves crashed and you were centered in your body again. 

“Okay, wow,” you said breathlessly. 

“That was too easy,” he responded. You scoffed. 

“Yeah, yeah, you win,” you replied. “You’re just as amazing in bed as you look like you would be-”

“No,” he continued. “I mean - that was too easy, and I like a challenge, so I’m gonna see how many times I can make you do that.”

Within seconds, he was making his way down your body, pulling your underwear off of you, grabbing your ankles, and tugging your body towards him. He laid your legs on either side of his shoulders and dove his head between your thighs, kissing the spot that was still extremely sensitive. It was overstimulating, but felt so good you wouldn’t dare ask him to stop. He ate you out like he was poisoned and you were the antidote. He plunged his tongue into your hole as his hands spread you apart as far as you’d go. He kissed back up to your clit and settled there, teeth latching around it gently. Then, his fingers slid back inside you, and he continued to suck on you, and somehow you were already going to come again. One of your hands found purchase in his hair, and you pulled his head against you even more. The other hand clutched the sheets beside you desperately, crumpling them into a fist as you unraveled against his mouth. 

You hadn’t even realized how tightly your thighs were clenching around his head until you released him, but he didn’t move from where he’d been. He continued finger-fucking you and flicking his tongue side to side against your clit all the way through your orgasm and beyond. There was no recovery period or moment of relaxation. It hurt to have him there, a little bit, but not in a bad way. He bit at the fleshy part of your thigh so he had a second to catch his breath, but kept kissing you everywhere he had access and treating your body like it was his most precious belonging. 

Because in that moment, you did belong to him. 

Your third orgasm immediately followed the second. It was like he was destroying you - breaking down every wall you’d ever put up leaving you an absolute mess underneath him. His motions slowed, ever in tune with your body. It was like he could read your mind. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He sat up straight and removed his fingers from you, immediately putting them in his mouth to suck them clean. “You’re really good at that.” He grinned, his mouth and chin shining. 

“It’s my favorite part,” he replied. “Are you tapping out?”

“No, I -” Your head was spinning, but you absolutely did not want this to stop. “I just need a minute.” He chuckled, wiped his mouth, then pressed a quick kiss to your ankle. He moved your legs off him and back onto the bed, and then he laid down beside you and joined you in staring at the ceiling. 

“So,” he said, his hands clasped on his stomach. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you replied. Your gaze traveled down his stomach to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “So, oral really does it for you, huh?” Eddie turned to see your eyes fixed on his crotch. He exhaled sharply - the start of a laugh - then nodded. 

“Yeah. I’m good at it and I like it. But, I don’t know whether I’m good at it because I like it or if I like it because I’m good at it.”

“A real chicken versus egg kind of thing,” you said. He laughed. 

“Exactly.” 

“What else do you like?” you asked. 

“Hmm?” He seemed genuinely confused by the question.

“I mean, what else do you like? Not considering your partner’s pleasure, just your own.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because we’re about to have sex,” you replied.

“Are we?” he teased. You rolled your eyes.

“Answer me,” you told him. “I want it to be good for you, too.”

“But that wasn’t the deal,” he countered, sitting up. “I’m doing this for you, not me.”

“Why can’t it be both?” He still looked at you as if you weren’t making any sense at all. “Eddie, come on. Just tell me what you like. You’ve never been shy about sex stuff in the past, clearly -”

“I like being bit,” he answered quickly. “Especially on the neck and lips. And, like, the crook of my elbow for some reason?” You nodded, urging him to continue. He sighed, then laid back down beside you. “I like the idea of someone using me just to get off - degradation, treating me like I’m nothing, all that jazz.”

“The idea of it?” you repeated, turning on your side to face him. “You’ve never tried it?”

“Not really,” he responded. “I’m kinda known for the soft-dom thing I have going on, so that’s usually what I end up doing.” 

“Hmm.” You thought about his answer in the silence that followed, until he spoke again.

“You know what’s weird?”

“What?”

“Nobody’s really asked me that before.”

You looked at him, completely baffled at the situation. This poor man had only focused on his partners this whole time. No wonder he’d grown jaded to it.

“It’s been a minute,” you said. “I think I’m ready to keep going.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You could visibly see him shift back into work-mode. His eyes lit up and focused in on you again, and his hands went to his belt buckle to unfasten it. You sat up and kneeled on the bed, then helped him take his pants and boxers off and tossed them to the floor. You shimmied your robe off your shoulders and let that fall to the floor as well. He sat up in the bed with his back to the headboard so he could take his shirt off, and now you were both completely naked.

Woah.

You stared at his body, mesmerized by all the ink in his skin. You traced a finger delicately over the tattoos on his chest, shoulders, and forearms. He watched you appreciatively, a soft smile on his face, his expression peaceful. You reached over to your bedside table drawer and grabbed a condom from the box you kept there.

Then, you straddled him. 

“Hey, wait -” he said. “Look, I know what you wanna do for me, but it’s probably not gonna happen. Like, I don’t usually come from sex unless I help myself out.”

You kind of saw that in one of the videos. He’d been going with this one woman for like a half hour straight and nothing.

“I want to try,” you told him. He still didn’t look convinced. “Come on, you think only porn stars are good in bed?”

“I just don’t want you to feel bad if -”

You leaned in and kissed him, hungrily, your hands tangling in his hair. Yeah, he’d taken care of you, but you were far from satiated. You wanted him badly, and you wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made you feel.

You could still taste yourself on his swollen lips, and that’s when you realized the two of you had never actually kissed before. You broke from him, concerned that you’d crossed a line.

“Sorry, I should have asked if kissing is okay first -”

He was kissing you again before you could even get your sentence out. His arms went around your waist, hugging you tightly until your chest was against his. You tugged on his hair, hard, and felt him smirk against your lips. 

He was growing impossibly hard beneath you, which only encouraged you to keep going.

You clawed against his back and his mouth opened up for you. You used this as an opportunity to suck his bottom lip into your mouth before biting it. 

He whimpered, which was just about the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

Your mouth traveled down his jaw and to his neck, where you gave him the same treatment he’d given you.

“Careful,” he managed to say (though his voice was weak). “I can’t be marked up for work.” You nodded, then grazed your teeth across his skin. He gasped, the grip of his hands tightening on your waist. You kissed him and bit him and sucked him on both sides of his neck, leaving no spot behind and making sure you didn’t stay in one place for too long. Eventually, you felt yourself craving him again - this time, you wanted all of him. 

Your hips rocked against his erection, and you knew it was game over the moment his bare cock slid up your folds. You moaned, then reached for the condom beside you so he could put it on. You shifted yourself a bit further down on his lap as he rolled it down his length, and then your eyes caught the tattoo on his thigh that started this whole thing - the witch, in all her glory.

“She’s looking right at it,” you said, your eyes fixed to the design. Eddie huffed out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah, uhh -” he began, flustered. “It’s her - shit, okay - it’s supposed to be a joke where she’s looking at my dick because my dick is a magic wand, but that’s dorky as shit so usually when people ask I just joke that it’s because she’s a voyeur.” You smiled, then shook your head. 

“So, why tell me the truth then?” you asked. “What makes me different?” You looked at his blown out pupils, deep brown and infinite, and wondered why you’d spent so much time trying not to look into them. Maybe because now that you’d done it, you weren’t sure you could ever stop.

“I don’t know,” Eddie answered. “I don’t know why you’re different.” 

You maintained eye contact as you lifted yourself up and lined his cock with your entrance, and then you slowly let him sink into you. 

Oh.

The immediate stretch was incredible. Eddie was well-endowed and thick, and it was going to take a little work to fit him completely inside you. You started slowly, lifting yourself up and down - all the while, your eyes stayed fixed to his. 

His hand snaked between you to rub your clit slowly, getting you wetter and allowing you to accommodate his size better. You moaned loudly, unable to stop yourself, then began bouncing at a faster pace. 

You kissed his forehead, the sweat on his brow leaving your lips slightly salty. Then, you kissed the spot right next to his eyes, his cheek, his jaw, before finally reaching his lips again. 

Hungry. That was the best word to describe it. It felt like the two of you had each never wanted anything more in your lives as much as you wanted each other. He bottomed out inside you, and you began to lift yourself up and crash back down, slowly, but with force. 

“Faster,” he muttered. “Please, faster.” His voice was breathy and weak. A part of you wanted to tease him more - you wanted to drive him crazy and then watch him explode, just as he’d done to you. But the other part of you wanted exactly what he wanted, so you obliged. 

You started to ride him faster, rolling your hips in such a way where he was hitting the spot inside you that made you scream his name and pull his hair without abandon. He continued to work your clit until - somehow - you felt yourself building up to yet another orgasm. 

“Fuck,” you whined, continuing to fuck him exactly as you’d been doing. “I’m gonna come again.”

He whimpered your name, and then his words became incomprehensible. But you wouldn’t have been able to hear them anyway, because pretty soon you were coming so hard you were transported through space and time. Seriously, the feeling was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. He was taking up all the space in your body and your mind. 

“You’re so good, Eddie,” you said. Your words were muffled against his mouth, but you knew he understood them. “So fucking good.”

Your motions slowed down, and you started to make your way back to the room. He was staring at you, his eyes no longer piercing. They were soft and vulnerable instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t -”

“That one was for me,” you interrupted. “This next one's for you.”

“What-?”

Your lips crashed into his again. You’d gotten your fill - more than your fill, actually - and now you just had one goal. 

Make Eddie Munson come. 

Easy enough, you figured. He’d given you more than enough clues to tell you how. With his dick still deep inside you, you kissed down his neck to his shoulder, then lifted his arm so you could make your way to the crook of his elbow. You sucked at the tender, sensitive skin. His eyes widened.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. You smirked, then dropped his arm and promptly fucked him as fast and rough as you possibly could. 

Eddie threw his head back in ecstasy, groaning and grunting and continuing to talk under his breath - only this time you were able to understand some of it. 

“Holy fucking shit…Jesus Christ…Just like that…”

Most of it was curse words. 

His fingers dug into your ass as he guided your hips exactly the way he needed them to go, and then all of a sudden he was twitching beneath you, his hands flexing, his jaw dropped. He desperately pressed open-mouthed kisses against your collarbone and breasts, holding you flush to him as you milked him for all he was worth. 

His breathing slowed, his face still buried in your tits. Finally, he leaned back so he could look up at you. You smiled and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He just kissed you instead - this time lightly and without urgency behind it. 

You let him slip out of you, then collapsed beside him, completely blissed out. He stayed seated and upright, although he did take the condom off and dropped it in the trash next to the bed. His eyes had turned pensive, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Everything okay?” you asked. 

“No,” he replied, staring straight ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He shrugged. 

“I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I felt like that.” You cocked your head in confusion.

“And that’s a problem?” you wondered. You maybe would have freaked out had you not just had four orgasms - Instead, you were just concerned.

“I don’t know.”

His head turned until you could see his expression fully, and you noticed there was a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Um, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. 

“Yeah.” He grabbed your hand and took a deep breath. “You wanna go on a date with me?”

(Part 2)

-------------------

Feel free to make requests in the comments, through DM, or using my taglist! In the meantime, check out my the masterlist on my main account where I post non-smut content :)

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[lily-blue]

Prince in disguise

☆ characters: crown prince!san & florist!you ☆ genre: modern royalty au, fluff ☆ warnings: mention of a break-in ☆ summary: you like to joke about how San carries himself like a prince; one day it turns out, it’s because he’s indeed royalty ☆ words: 7,9k ☆ a/n: this story was inspired by this video of San ☆ also: merry Christmas to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you a peaceful holiday, so that you could regain your energy and start the new year stronger than ever ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story 💕

You often teased San about how he was the embodiment of your childhood crush, Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. There was just something in the way he held himself, with so much effortless elegance and pride, that screamed royalty. However, up until the very moment three grown ass men in suits and sunglasses stormed into your flower shop, undoubtedly looking for him, you had never been able to decipher how he really felt about your lighthearted jokes. He definitely didn’t hate them, that much you could tell. He knew you would have stopped as soon as he showed any signs of frustration or discomfort, yet his most common reaction was a small smile and kiss on your forehead. 

It had never, not even in your wildest dreams, when you let yourself dream about your future, occurred to you that he was an actual prince. Like a real prince with a queen as a mother and a kingdom to rule.

‘Miss, I would like to kindly advise you to refrain from any form of dishonesty,’ one of the men said, his voice calm and collected despite the photo in his hands and the urgency of the issue they were dealing with. You had never given any thought to the qualities a bodyguard (a royal bodyguard!) should have possessed, but you had to admit that he must have ticked off all the boxes on that imaginary list. ‘We have been informed that the Crown Prince, in fact, entered this flower shop and he could not have possibly had enough time to leave before we came in.’

You could feel your heart picking up its rate and your palms getting clammy, but you refused to show how nervous his way of speaking made you. You also refused to think about all the negative consequences your inner need to protect San could bring you. You knew that as soon as you let your brain come up with those worst case scenarios you would fold like a folding chair. And you simply couldn’t afford to be weak.

‘Thank you for your advice, sir. However, I also need to kindly remind you that you need a warrant in case you wish to enter the staff only area,’ you stood your ground, grateful that the owner of the shop wasn’t present, so she couldn’t grant them access to the storage room. That might have put both San and you into an uncomfortable situation. ‘I have already told you that your Crown Prince is not here. You are wasting your time,’ you claimed, impressed by how calm your words came out despite the hurricane of emotions inside of you.

What would you tell your parents if you got arrested for lying to these men? It wasn’t like you were hiding a criminal, right?

‘Disobeying the Queen is considered high treason,’ the royal bodyguard stated firmly and you gulped down the knot in your throat when you realised he wasn’t talking to you. The warning was dedicated to the guy who was currently hiding behind dozens of bouquets of lilies and sunflowers for a summer themed banquet tomorrow.

‘Sir.’ You cleared your throat to gain his attention or more like, to divert his attention from the storage room’s door that he was eyeing with intent. You didn’t know what you could have done if he decided to push you aside and enter the staff only area anyway. He clearly had the muscles for that and he also had backup even if the other two men were lingering by the front door. ‘I am a South Korean citizen and we are in South Korea. With all due respect, your Queen has no power here,’ you reminded him, mustering up all the confidence that was left in your body, which wasn’t too much to be honest. You were a mere commoner standing in front of a royal bodyguard, after all. Hell, you were a petite woman in her twenties against a man who had biceps the size of a smaller melon.

In the back of your head, you wondered how long your protective instincts would take you. For the sake of San and yourself, you hoped you could hold on long enough for these men to give up and leave. If things had gone there, you didn’t know how you would have explained to your boss why you had stayed overtime on a Wednesday night.

It took time, and a horrendous amount of awkward and pressuring silence, but eventually a new customer came in and your afternoon regained some of its normality. You helped the girl choose the most suitable flowers for her confession and gave her a gift card for free partly because she was adorable and partly because you were so genuinely grateful for her presence. Her ramble about her childhood best friend slash crush had successfully taken your mind off the predicament you were in with a prince in your storage room.

Unfortunately, after that, the rest of the afternoon kept you on your tiptoes. Two of the men in black suits left, but the third bodyguard refused to leave the shop and made sure you didn’t have a moment of peace with his countless questions and polite warnings of which quite a few were meant for San. At least, you honestly doubted his intention was to appeal to your emotions when he brought up the people of their nation, their well-being and the well-being of the royal couple. As much as you could tell from the morsels you actually understood - at one point the guard started to speak the same language San spoke when he was frustrated -, San’s parents were healthy, but his father was too drained to keep ruling the country for much longer. They wanted him to go back and be the king he had always been meant to be. They wanted him to settle down and have his own heirs.

The latter felt like a fist in the gut, like a knife in the stomach even though your translation’s accuracy was heavily dependent on context clues, so you might have been wrong.

You hoped you were wrong.

‘Sir, we are closing. I have to ask you to leave,’ you spoke up ten minutes before eight and let out a relieved sigh when he didn’t argue. You could handle his ice cold stares, but you were doubtful whether you would have had the energy to get into a fight after hours of cold war. His presence alone had drained you dry and honestly, the only things that kept you going were the knowledge that you were doing this for San and the cinnamon rolls from the vintage coffee shop across the street. They closed at ten, so they usually weren’t out of sweets when you visited them at the end of your most tiresome days.

A little paranoid that the bodyguard might have been still lingering out there, waiting for the moment when you foolishly let your guard down, you busied yourself with the online orders that came in in the last hour and stock checked the customer area. It took almost one and a half hours before you informed San that the coast was clear.

The boy walked out from the storage room with his lower lip between his teeth and a rather embarrassed smile on his face that - based on the months you had spent getting to know each other more - was meant to be reassuring.

‘Are you okay?’ San asked, warmth swelling in your chest due to his first words. Of course, your well-being was his top priority. His apologies and weak attempts at making excuses, so you wouldn’t have been mad at him always came second. ‘I’m so sorry.’

You clenched and unclenched your fists as you looked at him. Did he seriously believe that you could be angry with him for longer than a couple of minutes? You had gotten to know the truth hours ago. You were over the initial shock and done being sulky.

At that point, you just wanted him to be safe.

Therefore, you destroyed the distance between the two of you and not giving a damn about his title, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him impossibly close to your body. You could feel your cheek being squeezed as you rested your head on his chest.

‘Are you okay?’ You threw the question right back at him, feeling your heart picking up its rate with each second that passed you by in silence.

San’s lips were soft against your scalp when he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his own arms around your petite frame.

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled against your hair, his tone urging you to pull away and look him in the eyes, hence that was what you did. You pulled away with your hands still around his body and rested your chin on his chest, picking apart his facial expression as you tried to decipher what he was thinking.

Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips against yours briefly.

‘I promise I will explain everything,�� he said, his forehead fitting close to yours before he lifted his right hand and brushed a stubborn lock behind your ear. ‘But first, I need to take care of a few things. Important things,’ he claimed and with that - and another tender kiss pressed against your parted lips - he was gone.

You looked after him in trance for minutes before you shook your head and willed yourself to walk in the storage room to finish the stock checking. There was a cinnamon roll waiting for you at the coffee shop across the street.

You hadn’t heard from San that night, which was a tad bit alarming considering that he was living in your apartment unofficially for over a month. He had his own clothes at yours, his own towel, shower gel, shampoo and toothbrush. You had his favourite plant-based milk in your fridge along with his favourite instant coffee. His mug that matched yours was in your cabinet, waiting for him to come home. So why hadn’t he? The number of possibilities made you anxious.

What if those men had found him and he was already out of the country?

By the time the second night of radio silence rolled by, you were checking your phone abnormally frequently and couldn’t stay focused for longer than five or six minutes. It came to a point where even the Thai series you were currently obsessed with couldn’t keep you on the couch. You had to move around, clean up something, do something, anything that might have been able to take your mind off San’s absence. 

You almost knocked off the half-empty mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen counter, the marshmallows still in your hands, when your front door opened out of the blue. You threw the sweets into your drink with a yelp and grabbed the first potential weapon that you came across: the cutting board you kept behind the knife organiser.

‘I have 112 on speed dial,’ you threatened, lowkey wondering whether you should have been more daring and grabbed one of the knives as you walked towards your bedroom, not turning your back to the front door. There should have been a key in the lock from the inside. You should have been safe once you reached the bedroom.

‘Well, that’s good to know, but why are we calling the police?’ A very tired, very amused San asked from the threshold, walking into the open space of your living room slash dining room with a bag of takeout in his hand.

You could feel the rocks being lifted off your chest.

‘Are you crazy? San! You scared the shit out of me,’ you accused, more relieved than angry. Seeing his tired eyes, you were reminded of the bodyguards and wanted to run up to him and inspect his body for injuries. You wanted to make sure he was okay; however, your limbs were frozen, hence you just stood there like a way too realistic statue from Ancient Rome.

Then, your gaze fell on the plastic bags in his hands again and your brain supplied you with all the worst case scenarios it could come up with: San coming over for a last minute farewell dinner before he moved countries; San asking you to change your relationship status to long-distance relationship; San breaking up with you with your favourite black bean noodles. You weren’t ready to let him go after putting so much effort into winning him over.

‘I’m sorry, petal. I thought you would know it’s me. After all, there aren’t many people who know your passcode and your parents are out of town,’ he said. There was something in the way he broke the situation down to you that made you feel a little dramatic. Of course, you should have known it was him. Other than your mom and your best friend, he was the only one who had access to your apartment.

You pressed your lips together and pouted. He had no right to make you feel silly when your survival instincts were the ones to blame.

‘What are the noodles for?’ You asked as soon as you put yourself together, finally finding the power to move your legs and walk up to him. The furrow between San’s eyebrows and the confusion in his eyes shouldn’t have been so adorable.

‘It’s Thursday. You never have energy to cook on Thursdays and Fridays,’ he explained, like you were some kind of alien who wasn’t accustomed to the local habits yet or a person who had just woken up from years of coma. He must have thought that your question was so damn ridiculous, but it wasn’t what you had meant.

‘You didn’t come home yesterday,’ you said, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the whiny edge of your statement and the fact that San had his own place to sleep at. His lease wouldn’t expire for at least three more months, so you hadn’t moved in together yet. You had no right to call him to account regarding his whereabouts and still, after what had happened the day before, you kind of felt like you had.

You took the bags out of his hands and helped him unpack the still pleasantly lukewarm food. You also started to prepare a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows for him, too, without asking whether he wanted some. He never said no for hot chocolate.

‘I was with Wooyoung,’ he said, filling a tray with numerous tiny bowls containing various side dishes such as kimchi and yellow radish. ‘I needed his help to contact my oldest cousin, Seonghwa.’

You nodded along with every new revelation, paying close attention to every detail while you slid San’s drink towards him on the dining table. It was your first time hearing about any of his family members, at least from him, so you were admittedly curious.

Even though the trays on the table made it obvious that San’s initial intention was to have this conversation on the couch, you didn’t move an inch from your poor excuse for a dining room. You just stood there, with your elbows on the marble, one of your soles resting on the inner side of your other leg and dove into your food with a pair of wooden chopsticks. You didn’t take your eyes off San while he told you everything about his situation.

‘I left the country with Woonyoung’s family when I was fourteen,’ he started, assuring you that he wasn’t a runaway prince per se, and that he had never hid from his parents. Both the queen and the king of their country knew how to reach him in case of emergency, teenager San had just convinced himself that that day would never come as his parents had never bothered to contact him after he had moved out of the palace. With years of neglect behind his back, his adult-self never thought about the possibility that things might have changed.

You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it as a sign of your support. You were afraid that he would interpret your sympathy as pity, therefore you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. Instead, you gave San all of your attention, hot chocolate momentarily forgotten.

‘Would you like to go back? Now that it’s an option?’ You mustered up the courage to tear off one of the band-aids; the unsaid inquiry whether he wanted to become a king in the first place hiding between the lines. Somehow, it sounded such an insensitive question, you didn’t have the heart to phrase yours like that despite your curiosity. Therefore, you decided to focus on the fact that the royal couple was his parents. ‘To see your mom and dad?’

After a few seconds of contemplation, San shrugged.

‘I guess so,’ he said and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed. They were his parents. Of course, he wanted to see them again. Who were you in comparison to his family? Without much thought, you took your hand off his; however, San didn’t hesitate to reach after it and intertwined your fingers with a soft smile. ‘But that can wait until Seonghwa’s coronation. It’s been over a decade since we’ve last seen each other. A few more months is no big deal if it means they will let me come back to you.’

As touching as it was that he was willing to delay their reunion to be able to stay with you, your first instinct was to remind him that he was his own person and no one had more power over his life than him. But then you swallowed down the words as your brain caught up with the situation. You might have been absolutely right about this matter in general, but San was a prince. Clearly, general rules didn’t apply to him.

‘What do you mean Seonghwa’s coronation?’ You tried to fill in the holes that made it hard for you to fully comprehend the situation. You thought he was the next in line to rule. You definitely remembered the bodyguard referring to him as the Crown Prince.

‘Well, that’s the most important part of our plan,’ he started, pushing the food closer to you, encouraging you to start eating before it got cold. Albeit reluctantly, you eventually gave in, allowing him to steal himself a couple of seconds as well as he dove into the perfect mixture of noodles and red bean sauce.

Then, he proceeded to tell you about the plan they had made with Woonyoung and six of their mutual friends including his cousin and Seonghwa’s personal bodyguard, Jongho. Since San didn’t wish to become the new ruler of their country, but knew that his parents wouldn’t back off without a fight, they intended to prove to them that Seonghwa was the better choice in every aspect: maturity, dedication towards his people and the country, connections, political and economical knowledge. The way he presented their idea and backed up each one of his reasons made even you think that Seonghwa was more fitting for the role. It made you feel hopeful.

‘Do you think your parents will let you give up the crown?’ You couldn’t help but ask when it became obvious that he didn’t have anything more to say.

The silence that followed was palpable. Still, you let him drag it out and pull you into his lap, so he could wrap his arms around you instead of giving you a definite answer. Now you knew that he wasn’t close to his parents - that their relationship could only have been described as distant. Making guesses based on childhood memories would have just given you false hope. You much preferred his soothing touches and the desperation in the way he held you close.

‘I love you,’ he murmured into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hinting the soft and sensitive area with feather-like kisses.

You sucked in your lower lip, holding your breath. Even though his actions had shown you, even before you two had gotten together, that you were an important person in San’s life, the two of you had never exchanged I love yous before. As much as you hated to acknowledge, it had a bittersweet undertone to it. You wished you could have told him how precious he was to you under different circumstances.

Nevertheless, you said it back.

‘I love you, too. So much.’

That night you eventually relocated to the living room and got comfortable under your fluffy blankets on the couch. You had two mugs of freshly made hot chocolate with you - this time, without marshmallows to lower your already high sugar intake - and some salty snacks you could munch on while you talked. And you talked a lot. You talked about the day before, how the bodyguards had found him and how serious their threats had been. San was almost sure that his parents would have never imprisoned him for high treason if he had refused to go home willingly. By the way his lips curled upwards and his eyes gouged your reaction, you knew he was only trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but it was too early, hence it wasn’t funny. Life imprisonment with a cheap excuse was exactly how they could have kept him in the country! How could San not see it?

‘Don’t even think about joking about this again, you hear me? It’s not funny,’ you scoffed when he tried to ease you with lingering kisses atop of your head, temple and on your blade bone. Him disappearing on you just wasn’t it.

‘I promise.’ He nosed your temple, holding you in his arms a big tighter to make up for the anxiety he had unintentionally caused. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added, repeating it like a mantra until he successfully coaxed a chuckle out of you.

With the show you had been watching before his arrival as your background noise and his warmth surrounding your body, you fell asleep on San’s shoulder while he was talking about Seonghwa’s bodyguard, karaoke, imported beer and apples. If anyone had asked you, you were sure you would have failed to draw the connection between all four, but you knew your boyfriend would have never used your tiredness against you. On the contrary, he would have been grateful that you still felt safe in his arms.

And you did. You did feel safe. Because for you, he was your home.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that your story wouldn’t end up being a fairy-tale, and that even those had some dark twists to them here and there when they were told by the original authors. Still, coming home for a messed up apartment and no San in sight knocked the air out of your lungs. No matter how much you tried to rationalise the happenings or keep your cool, panic overcame you in a matter of seconds. You didn’t know what to do. Would calling the police have made things worse? What if it had been those bodyguards? You didn’t intend to put San into a tight position in case the pitiful state of your home was a consequence of their family quarrel.

On the other hand, what if he had been kidnapped? You had left work pretty late that night, so there was a possibility that San had been home when things had escalated.

Hands shaking and mind pushed into an overdrive, you fished your phone out of the bag you had previously dropped on the floor and dialled San’s number. He didn’t pick up, so you did the next best thing you could think about without losing it: you called him again. Again. And again.

You called him as many times as it was necessary for him to answer your call, his calm voice breaking something in you as your knees gave out as soon as his greeting reached you and you fell on the floor, crying.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ When you sniffed into the phone instead of answering, his voice lost its calmness. ‘Petal, what’s happening? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’

You weren’t hurt, not physically at least. But the chaotic mess your mental state was in was secondary to the fact that San sounded to be oblivious of the intrusion into your home.

‘Please, petal, talk to me,’ he tried to coax you and while it didn’t work immediately, when he started to do a breathing exercise, you automatically mimicked the way he sucked the air into his lungs. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

‘Where are you?’ The words felt like sand on the tip of your tongue, your urge to know for sure that he was in public or at least among people who could help him in case of emergency pushing all your other worries aside.

‘I’m with the guys at Wooyoung’s place. Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you? I will pick you up,’ San said, the distant sound of keys chiming and wood cracking assuring you that he was ready to leave as soon as you gave him the sign. Hell, he might have left the boys without you explicitly asking for it considering the worry in his voice.

But as comforting as the thought was, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment.

‘No!’ You objected, maybe a tad bit too vehemently for which you might have felt awkward under different circumstances. Now, emotions like shame and embarrassment were at the end of your priority list. ‘Can I visit you instead? I promise I’ll tell you everything in person,’ you negotiated. Not realising that you were holding your breath, a relieved sigh escaped through your pressed lips when San chose to withhold his questions for the time being.

Some matters were wiser to discuss in person. Matters that could put you in a tight position if anyone found evidence about your scheming. Especially when you were up against an opponent so powerful, they had the resources of actual royalty.

Looking around in your fucked up apartment, without your heart threatening to explode in your ribcage, you knew you didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. You had to be smart about your next move.

You showed up at Wooyoung’s place an hour later with one sports bag packed with your most necessary belongings and was greeted with a worried San who didn’t understand why you would have brought your entire bathroom cabinet to his best friend’s apartment when you loved your home. You definitely had a lot to unpack, both literally and figuratively.

‘I can’t believe they’re willing to go this far,’ a guy with sharp eyes and nose said, the same guy who had taken it upon himself to bring you a mug of herbal tea when you made yourself comfortable on Wooyoung’s couch. His name was Hongjoong or something similar if you remembered correctly. ‘I start to think that we might have underestimated them a little.’

‘A little?’ Two or three of San’s friends asked in chorus at the same time San lifted his head up from your shoulder and said:

‘I doesn’t matter. Our plan is good, they’ll have no other choice but to go along with it.’

Just by looking at his friends, you couldn’t tell whether they actually believed what San had said, but it was clear as day that they believed in your boyfriend, hence you leaned against his broad chest and let yourself relax. Neither San nor you were alone in this. You had allies and strategies. You had a good plan, and even if that failed, you had options. San’s parents might have been powerful, they could clearly break into your home to scare you, but they had no real authority in Korea.

A voice in the back of your head also reminded you that you lived in the era of social media. You doubted they would have risked bad publicity by pushing their son too much and causing irreversible damage to those he cherished. Or so you hoped.

‘Our plan is good, but will princess Yuna actually agree to go along with it?’ Another guy, whose name you hadn’t memorised yet, asked, his question piquing your interest. It was the first time you heard about this princess and with your obsession with Asian dramas, you did not like the first scenarios your brain threw at you as it tried to fill in the gaps. Who was she? Why was she an important part of the plan? Was she interested in San?

‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before petal came. She said yes,’ San said, the hollering and overflowing happiness in the room making you feel weird, like something wasn’t quite right with the situation: like you were missing something crucial that would have given you a perfect explanation for the odd reaction the news received.

With naturally pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, you placed your hands on your lap along with the pleasantly warm mug and turned towards San. His smile was so beautiful. He was genuinely happy about the progress they had made now that this princess was on board.

‘Who is she?’ You asked, mentally reminding yourself that you were San’s girlfriend. You had every right to ask him about this girl until you remained clear-headed and didn’t throw a temper tantrum for no reason.

‘She is the most sought out unmarried royalty in Asia. Her family’s country is very small, but their economic power is remarkable.’ Hongjoong said.

‘She is two years older than San, but they’ve known each other since they were babies, so he’s allowed to talk to her informally. Her kindness isn’t just for show, she really is the most warm-hearted royalty I’ve ever met,’ Wooyoung added before his wide grin turned into a frown. ‘She never lets me talk to her informally, though. Like I haven’t known her for just as long.’

‘Yeah, she’s so unfair.’ Yeosang’s voice was teasing as he altered it to sound more mocking: like Wooyoung’s but a pitch higher. ‘It’s not because you called her Yuna in front of a bunch of politicians when she explicitly told you to use her birth name when people other than your family were present.’ The bombastic side eye the blond boy gave to Wooyoung almost made you laugh. Almost.

You had to admit, this princess Yuna sounded pretty amazing. Gosh. You were such a horrible person.

San must have sensed your inner turmoil, because the next thing you noticed was the light touch of the tip of his nose against your cheek and his pillowy lips against your jawline.

‘She’s also Seonghwa’s fiancée,’ he murmured, placing one of his warm palms on the other side of your face, so that he could turn your head a bit more and make you look at him. You gulped, more shy than nervous. ‘That’s what she said yes to. Seonghwa proposed to her a few hours ago.’

You sucked in your lower lip, but before you could have done any damage, San pulled it out from between your teeth with his thumb; the fondness in his eyes simultaneously took your breath away and made you feel unworthy of his love. How could you have seriously thought that he would have included someone in their plan - felt so happy about her joining their team - if she had any interest in him romantically?

‘So it’s not a fake marriage?’ You inquired, coaxing a small laugh out of your boyfriend. His eyes almost disappeared because of the pure amusement on his face. It didn’t take long before you gave into the urge to hide your own in the crook of his neck.

Going easy on you, San semi-successfully bit back a chuckle and put his chin atop of your head, stroking your hair.

‘No, it’s not a fake marriage. They’ve also known each other since childhood, obviously. And they’re pretty much in love,’ he reassured you, letting you have all the time in the world if that was what you needed to be able to look him in the eyes again.

Fortunately, you didn’t need that much to get over the fact that you were only human; a girl with fears and insecurities. The herbal tea in your mug was still pleasantly lukewarm when you pulled away and straightened your back.

‘So cute,’ San whispered, pressing a soft peck against your lips before he helped you readjust your position on his lap, so you wouldn’t hurt your neck too much with the way your body was twisted and turned to be able to be chest to chest to him.

‘Oh, stop that!’ Wooyoung’s frustrated voice came from somewhere beside you, your brain not registering that he was teasing, or that he was talking to you until he said: ‘One royal wedding will be shocking enough for your parents. I don’t think they will be able to handle two.’

Failing to disregard the sudden attention on you, your cheeks became warmer and more pink with each second; however, you refused to seek comfort in the crook of San’s neck because you just knew that would have made things worse. You concentrated on your tea instead, on the feel of the porcelain against your clammy palms, on the fluffy blanket on your thighs. On everything and anything that wasn’t your boyfriend or his friends.

‘You’re making her shy,’ one of the boys cooed and some other joined, pushing your heart to the verge of an explosion. You didn’t realise that your hands were trembling until San slid his fingers between yours around your mug and leaned close to your ear.

‘Let’s kick Wooyoung out of his bedroom. I know where the clean sheets are, and it can be locked from the inside,’ he whispered, his lips curling upwards, therefore grazing along your earlobe. You hesitated only for a split second before you nodded.

You got up from the couch and let your boyfriend lead you towards his friend’s bedroom. As the key turned in the lock the thought crossed your mind that you had never done anything so scandalising before, but somehow the immense amount of guilt never came. Instead, you felt excited.

Excited, hopeful and safe in San’s arms.

You were arranging a bouquet of light pink carnations and peach-coloured buttercups for an anniversary when San walked out of the storage room at your workplace with a new roll of lace wrapping and his phone in his hands. With the way he dragged his feet, walking impossibly slowly, you just knew that his eyes were glued to the small screen; you didn’t need to tear your gaze away from the flowers that had your attention to be a hundred percent sure.

‘Have they started it already?’ You inquired between two twists and turns, holding the whole bouquet together with practised ease even when you had to take the wrapping from San with one of your hands. You still remembered how many you had dropped on the floor during your first few months at the flower shop. The number of flowers that had gotten destroyed in your care haunted you up to this day.

‘No, they’ve been focusing on mother and father so far. Mostly on father, but that’s kind of understandable,’ he said, your lips twitching at the mention of the royal couple.

Prince Seonghwa and Princess Yuna’s wedding had been a week ago and while you hadn’t attended the event, nor had done San, your boyfriend’s parents had made it to their mission to put you through anxiety when they had demanded to talk to you as soon as San had picked up the phone for them the day his cousin had announced the big news. They hadn’t gone as far as to threaten you or bribe you with more money than your type could comprehend, but you were well aware they didn’t think you were worthy of their son. God, they had quite literally told you he could have done much better.

‘Last minutes being a king. I wonder how he feels about that,’ you commented, putting in a bit of extra effort to not sound rude. You didn’t want San to think you hated his father even if, rightfully so, he hadn’t been your favourite person in the world.

‘I don’t think he minds it that much. He was only twenty-two when he took the throne. Three decades is a long time,’ he explained while he leaned the phone against a vase on the counter and put a part of his weight on his palms that laid flat against the marble. ‘The only thing he might be upset about is Seonghwa taking my place.’

You regretted the snort the moment you did it. Your hands froze around the perfectly wrapped bouquet and so did the air, which made it hard to look your boyfriend in the eye.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,’ you apologised, putting the flowers in water before you took San’s hand in yours. ‘They are your parents and I’ll be forever grateful to them for your existence. For sending you to this country out of all the countries they could choose from.’ You shot a small albeit genuine smile in his direction. It might have sounded a little cheesy, but you meant every word. Without them you would have never had him.

‘I’m not mad at you,’ he reassured you, squeezing your hand and pressing a soft kiss atop of your shoulder blade before he turned back to his phone and you reached for the next pieces of flowers. You had five more bouquets to finish before your lunch break.

Seonghwa’s coronation officially started when your bibimbap was still in need of some more mixing, but that didn’t keep you from leaning closer to San’s phone and watching the live stream with more excitement than you had had for his father. You might have never spoken to your boyfriend’s cousin before, but you had heard enough stories about him from the boys to know he would be an amazing king. Mostly, because he cared for his people and because he genuinely wanted the responsibility that came with the title.

‘He looks like a leader. So serious-looking,’ you commented, shoving a huge spoonful of food in your mouth and humming in appreciation because goodness, it tasted just like your mom’s homemade bibimbap.

You lifted a bite in front of San’s mouth, so he could try it, too.

You watched the ceremony in complete silence; sometimes you fed him, sometimes you put your head on his shoulder while munching. It was nice. You hadn’t been so content in weeks if not in months.

‘Aren’t you disappointed?’ San asked you after the crown was put on Seonghwa’s head and the sovereign’s sceptre and the sovereign’s orb were placed in his hands.

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘About what? The ceremony?’ You asked, completely oblivious of what was going on in his head. You jutted out your lower lip; you didn’t like feeling as though you were kept in the dark. It made you feel stupid.

San shook his head, failing to hide the fond smile that was in the corner of his mouth.

‘Yuna is officially a queen now,’ he mumbled and despite how embarrassing it was to admit, it took you a couple of seconds to decipher what he was hinting at: you could have become a queen, too, if only he had gone along with a different plan, with a different goal in mind. You were pretty sure, based on your impactful experience with his parents, that they would have let him keep you if the other option was their nephew on the throne.

‘And you’re officially free. I think it’s an amazing day for everyone,’ you teased, gifting your boyfriend one of your happiest smiles, so that he wouldn’t have doubted that you loved him for who he was instead of what he could have become. You didn’t care about the title or the fortune that golden crown came with. Honestly, all you focused on was how heavy it must have been to carry it, especially when one wasn’t keen on looking after an entire nation.

One careful glance at San was enough for you to know that a well-thought-out retort was already on the tip of his tongue - maybe something along the line that his salary was barely enough to save up a decent amount in each month -, but he never got the opportunity to actually put his concerns into words. The bells above the front door cut him off and naturally, your conversation came to a momentary end.

The new customer was a middle-aged man with a little girl on his right, her tiny hand getting lost in her father’s much bigger one before she pointed at one of the peonies and the man let her explore the flower shop on her own.

‘Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?’ You greeted the man with a smile as soon as his steps came to a halt in front of the counter.

Like most people who visited your workplace, the man had only vague ideas of what he was looking for, but you were fluent in the language of flowers, hence it caused you no headache to help him find the most suitable bouquet for his wife’s birthday. He wanted something that expressed his dedication to make the woman smile, therefore, you gave him options like pink tulips and yellow flowers in general.

Meanwhile, the little girl pulled on the hem of San’s tee and didn’t let go of the fabric until he stood up and followed her towards the customer area that you liked to refer to as the jungle. The corner with the spiller plants for example were like a sight from a botanical book or the children’s book with the gorillas and the little boy taken in and raised by said wild animals.

You bit back a giggle when you saw San lifting the little girl up, so that she could see the red roses from up close; however, your subtle smile froze on your face anyway when the little one asked San:

‘Are you a prince?’ In the most innocent voice you had ever heard in your life. She was so pure. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about and yet, both of you needed a few seconds to realise she wasn’t onto something bigger than her - something that could have put her in harm’s way. ‘Can I be your princess?’

The mortification on her father’s face almost cracked you up, and you did chuckle discretely when looking up, you took a better look at the girl. What looked like a summer dress at first glance turned out to be a princess costume. She even had a tiny, plastic tiara on her head.

San put her on the ground and crouched down to be at eye level with her.

‘I’m sorry, princess, I would be honoured to become your prince, but you see, I already have my own princess and I need to treat her right,’ he explained with utmost patience, then took the little girl’s hand in his (with her permission and her father’s approving nod, of course) and pressed a feather-like kiss on the back of it. ‘Will you forgive me and keep my secret?’

You couldn’t see the little girl’s face, but she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, so your best guess would have been that she wasn’t entirely placated. Still, eventually she nodded and made grabby hands at your boyfriend, insisting that she wanted to see more of the flowers. That, you did not mind at all. In fact, you found it rather adorable.

(San with a tiny human being in his arms was adorable. They turned your legs jelly and your knees uncharacteristically weak.)

‘I’m sorry about Minah. They had Occupation day in school today and she insisted that being a princess is a full-time job, so her mother and I let her dress as one,’ the man explained and you shook your head with an endeared smile. You weren’t mad at his daughter nor were you jealous of the attention she got from your boyfriend. If anything, his willingness to humour her made you fall for San harder.

‘Minah is right. Being a princess is a full-time job,’ you said without contemplating whether your words sounded ridiculous, although before the whole royal guard incident, you would have thought she was childish, rightfully so. She couldn’t have been older than seven.

You didn’t talk much with the customer after that, but you didn’t mind the silence. It gave you the perfect opportunity to listen to San’s conversation with the little girl, which was just as hilarious as cheesy, especially when you caught him declaring his love for you with such vehemency as if real-life princes also needed to defeat magical creatures to protect their loved ones. Where was their debate about good dragons and bad dragons coming from?

A light shade of pink crept up your cheeks when the little girl asked San straightforwardly whether he was talking about you, but you tried to remain composed.

‘It’ll be 30,000₩, sir,’ you informed the customer with a customer-service smile and gave him the bouquet before you took his money; the exchange smooth and fast. The prices were written on the board above your head, right behind the counter; however, some people liked to criticise your craft in hope of a discount. Those customers never failed to make you feel anxious.

‘Thank you. It’s beautiful,’ the man complimented the arrangement before he bid his goodbye and turned towards his daughter. ‘Minah-yah! It’s time to go. Say goodbye.’

Albeit reluctantly, the little girl wrapped her arms around San’s right leg and hugged him. Then, like a real princess, she walked up to you and did a curtsy, which you returned with a few-second-long delay. You were too taken aback to react immediately.

You were still a little shocked when the door closed shut behind the two, but then San hugged you from behind and reality caught up with you. You melted against his broad chest.

‘She was cute,’ he commented, coaxing a hum out of you.

Closing your eyes and letting out a content sigh, in the back of your mind you knew that you still had a very serious conversation on hold. A conversation in which your boyfriend would tell you over and over again why he wasn’t enough: how he had barely enough savings, hence how you couldn’t possibly depend on him in financial emergencies. Like money was the most important thing in a relationship! Like you didn’t have your own savings.

Turning around in his arms, you linked your arms behind his neck and pressed your soft lips against his. You wished these gestures were proof that his heart of gold had won you over years ago; that you didn’t wish to become a queen and even if you did, you didn’t need the title because he already treated you like royalty. He was everything - kind-hearted, attentive, loyal and so much more - and you wouldn’t have changed a thing in your lives. 

Crown Prince or not, San made you happy and excited about the future. About your future. Even if you had a long way to go and might have had numerous battles to march into to earn his parents’ approval.

the end.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Ten - A Chemistry Lesson

W/C: 8.2K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

And for once, you let go Of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much But it said enough

You Are In Love - T.S.

A/N: so i decided to split the chapter up, I started moving into another scene and it only felt right to give it it's own chapter as it opens up the night. i hope you guys love this chapter as much as i love this chapter <3

Masterlist

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“Dustin Henderson!”  The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–”  Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

Frozen.  You’re frozen in time, an influx of information and new faces rendering you a speechless idiot.  Each one stares expectantly, awaiting some kind of a response, more than likely drawing their own conclusions about your silence and lack of communication.  They were going to be so disappointed in your shyness should they even have the patience to wait around.

Before you can humiliate yourself, Steve saves the day as an offended Robin glares at him, rubbing her stomach rather dramatically.  “Donnie.”  He states, only creating further confusion.  Several people stood before you and Donnie was not one of them, you were now struggling to keep up with the current interaction at the mention of her.  Overstimulated.  You were definitely overstimulated.  You can’t even imagine the dumb face you were sporting, the silence too loud as you struggled clinging onto words.  Any words in the English language at all at this point.

“Donnie has told us all about you.”  Steve elaborates finally.  “All good things, I promise!”  He chuckles, seemingly attempting to ease your anxieties that had made themselves evident in your wide eyes and worried forehead creases.

“Oh.”   

“Yeah, yeah!  And she’s told us all about how you’re Eddie’s new babysitter.”  Robin chimes in again, earning a pointed look from Steve.

Eddie’s reaction is lost on you, his existence temporarily vanishing as you take in the current conversation.  The idea of being perceived was one thing, it was entirely another to be perceived by four strangers who had apparently already been made aware of your existence.

“What she means is that we’ve heard you’ve been a good friend.”  Nancy softly smiles.

Friend.

You didn’t quite know why but the word felt insulting.  Not on any account of Nancy’s, there was no malice detected in her tone though you were still intimidated by her and figured with her being the prettiest girl in the room, she must at least be on Eddie’s radar.  The word ‘friend’ was starting to feel vulgar the more it played over in your head.

“Yeah, ‘friend’.”  Dustin uses air quotes, a wild grin on his youthful face.

At this, Steve delivers a harsh smack to the boy’s abdomen, more aggressive than he had done to Robin seconds ago.  

“Henderson.”  Eddie reprimands.

His voice lures you in despite your inner protests, your gaze traveling over each unique face until it settles on his.  That familiar distress showcases itself in the form of a frown; there was no telling what reaction you had expected of him but something about it makes your heart drop, your stomach feeling as if it was free falling in the worst way possible.  Were you really that repulsive?

It was obvious Dustin had only been joking but the disgust on Eddie’s face only forced your tear ducts to strain, your eyes becoming glassy in seconds.  It was a long shot, thinking that there could be any semblance of interest on Eddie’s part and you suppose you should be to blame for your hurt feelings.  He owed you nothing and here you were mourning over something that never was, all because he had let you see a piece of the inner workings of his mind.  It didn’t warrant a one way ticket into his heart.

“What!?”  Dustin shrugs, unbothered.

Robin steps forward, an apologetic smile gracing her features as she addresses you.  “I promise we’re not all gigantic dinguses.”

A flood of complaints spills from Dustin and Steve, Nancy only rolling her eyes at the interaction before taking the initiative in pursuing the conversation with you as the others bicker, Eddie only spectating the whole scene playing out in front of him.

“Dustin doesn’t always know when to keep quiet.”  She giggles, subtly pulling you to the side, her hand gentle as it rests on your forearm.  It almost repulses you, although your logic kicks in and pieces together that this woman has never done anything to elicit such a response from you.  “But he always means well.”

The heat was dying down, the unsolicited jealousy now tame within the confines of your body, not totally gone but no longer raging just beneath the surface.  If it were up to you you’d ball up the lingering feeling and burn it, if it were only so easy.

“Are they brothers?”  You ask, recalling that night you drove him home.  He only spoke of his uncle, Wayne.  He did also mention Dustin but never insinuated that they were related.  Based on the way they were interacting, you’d assume they were brothers in some sense of the word.

“Where’s your family?”  Eddie suddenly mumbles, eyes still glued to the scenery outside.  

The question is out of the blue and the last thing you would expect from him.  Although he had taken somewhat of a liking to you, he’d never taken an interest in something so personal.  And you offered him that same respect.  

“What?”  You ask, sneaking a glance at him, your hands squeezing the wheel.

His focus shifts from the window to you, his body turning inward as he leans his cheek against the headrest, waiting for your response.  The way his lips pucker from his cheek squishing against the seat only makes your heart clench.  His large awaiting eyes reflect the moon and you find it hard to change the subject when they appear so patient and attentive.

“Um, well, they’re back in…back home.”  You answer simply.

“Where’s that?”

He looked the most inquisitive you’d seen him, body turned toward you, his attention not once wavering.  Instead of the usual knit brows he often wore, his features remained softer and full of wonder.  Lips parted and eyes twinkling, who were you to deny his efforts?  Even if he was slightly under the influence.  Worst case scenario, he doesn’t remember this conversation.

“California.” 

“Oh.”  

You didn’t know what kind of response you were expecting but for some reason, the one word was a bit too vague, self consciousness kicking in.  

“What about yours?”  You shift the spotlight over to him.

From what you can tell as you keep your focus on the road, his gaze drops while he collects his thoughts, his breathing going shaky for just a second before he regains his composure.  A hum deep in his throat notifies you that he’s ready to begin speaking again.

“Uh, don’t really have one.  Never really have.  Or, uh, I just don’t remember them?  Other than my uncle, Wayne.  He’s back…”  Eddie hesitates.  “He’s in Indiana.”

Nancy’s gaze follows yours, locking in on the two boys catching up.  “Dustin and Eddie?”  Her puzzled expression already grants you your answer, though she continues.  “No, no they’re not related.  You’d think they are, with all the fantasy stuff they talk about and what not.”

“Fantasy stuff?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”  Her perfectly plucked brows raise.  “My brother used to have me play with them, thank god Eddie stepped into the picture.”  She mutters.

“Eddie did mention Dungeons and Dragons.”  You nod. 

“And Dustin’s little drawing.”

“And the drawing?”

Your grin along with Nancy as you simultaneously speak, a few giggles filling the air between you.  

“So your brother is…Dustin?”

Amidst the calm conversation, Steve and Robin are cheering a few feet away, both of their arms now slung around Eddie.  It wasn’t clear what they were celebrating and it even seemed that they were just trying to embarrass him in that true friend fashion.  It was sweet, how much they cared about him, the lengths they went just to surprise him.

Nancy gracefully shakes her head, brunette curls bouncing with the movement and freckled nose scrunching playfully.  “No, no.  Dustin is one of my brother’s best friends.  Mike is my brother, he’s back at home in–”  Before she can reveal where ‘home’ was, her bright blue eyes widen.  “Back in Indiana.”  She corrects herself.

“I think Eddie’s mentioned Mike a few times.”  You recall the conversation, how he took Mike and Dustin under his wing in highschool.  “He couldn’t come?”

“He’s studying for midterms.”  She shakes her head.  “He really wanted to come but…you know between his girlfriend in California and college it’s just all…a lot.”  Her eyes are kind, probably the kindest you’d ever come across.

“I’d love to meet him one day.”  You smile, only hoping that you were reciprocating the same compassion she was radiating.  “And Max, and Lucas, and Wayne…”

Nancy’s eyes seem to brighten, ears perking up at the names.  “He told you about everyone?”  She asks softly, her baby pink lips upturning slightly.  

You nod.  Another eruption of laughter and shouting forces your attention toward the rest of the group, a proud grin displayed on Dustin’s face only hinting that he had just made a joke that even had Eddie hunched over in laughter, Steve’s arm still draped over his shoulder with his head thrown back.

“That is not funny.”  Robin pouts, arms crossed.

“I think it’s pretty funny.”  Steve smirks.

Nancy politely excuses herself from your one-on-one conversation, joining Robin’s side.  “What’s not funny?”

“When Robin swallowed an egg whole–”

“It’s not funny!”  Robin continues to protest.  “I almost died!”  

This only makes the boys cackle more, pulling an eye roll from Nancy.  

“C’mon Nance.”  Dustin grins.

“Yeah, c’mon Nance.”  Eddie chimes in.

Nance.

Why did it rub you the wrong way when he said it?  You assessed Nancy’s body language and nothing conveyed to you that she had any interest in him, however your mind continued it’s unruly torture.  Even so, Eddie had made it clear what he thought of you, that you were ‘too busy dry humping’ Jett and that even though that couldn’t be further from the truth, he would still lose respect for you.

Heat burrowed deep in your belly once again, the kind that wasn’t yet uncontrollable but should anyone add fuel to the fire would result in your own self destruction.  All because Eddie had to go and cause a scene.  All because he had a temper that never rested even when it appeared dormant.  

“I-um, I’m gonna go get the drinks–what did–what did everyone want?”  You manage to pitifully scramble the sentence together and eventually get your point across.

“Stevie!”  Donnie interrupts, crushing the poor guy in a tight hug.  It makes you question her disgust for physical touch.  

Steve doesn’t seem to mind, a twitch of his eye only projecting a smidge of discomfort but other than that he contently hugs her back.  They begin catching up, everyone completely ignoring your request for their drink orders.  It’s not their fault you were so invisible, it was just your nature, you were always meant to be put on the backburner until further notice but for some reason it causes an extra deep pang in your chest this time.  Especially since Eddie had completely disregarded you as he jumped into the conversation.

With the tiniest huff, you quietly step away to make yourself useful behind the bar.  A pair of blue eyes follows you, considerate blue eyes that you attempt to ignore.  If you looked carefully enough, you’d see that pair of ocean blue eyes making connections between yourself and a certain brown eyed man.  You were in no mood to act as a detective though.

–

It was irresponsible.

Your track record so far was evidence enough.

But as you stared down the bottle of tequila sat in front of you, howls of laughter and echoes of inside jokes entering your ears even from the other side of the bar, it seemed like more and more of a good idea.  Or like the only idea.  

You could have one shot, just to relax the nerves, make you more approachable.  No one would notice.  You could come off as the friendly stranger in the background instead of the miserable mouse in the corner.  It was for your benefit.  Your thoughts would become less intense, your bitterness would melt away.  Eddie would temporarily become the dream boat he had previously been in your eyes rather than a mouthy douchebag, your hazy mind would erase his wrong doings if only for a few hours.  

You hope.

Or maybe you’d open your eyes and see what Eddie was seeing, had you really shown any interest in Jett at all?  Maybe a shot would be enough to introduce you to the narrative.  Maybe you should let loose and throw yourself at Jett for the fuck of it.  Bad decisions were starting to sound more appealing the harder you stared at the bottle of liquid courage.  Until your careful thought process was interrupted.

“We doin’ shots?”  

The deep but soothing voice catches you off guard, calm brown eyes and concerned brows gaining all of your attention.  They weren’t the brown eyes you secretly hoped for, even if they were the most infuriating sight you could possibly be faced with at the moment.  No, they were a lighter hue, the overhead light casting golden flecks within the irises that regarded you with genuine interest, his lips pressed together tightly as he awaits your answer.  In his hand he holds what looks to be a scotch on the rocks though it could also be whiskey, you were no expert quite yet.

“Uh…no.  I dunno.  Maybe?”  You squint your eyes painfully.  “Forget I said that.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell the others.”  Steve takes a seat at one of the vacant stools directly across from you.  “But…”  He clicks his tongue.  “If you are going to, count me in.”  He smiles charmingly, finishing off his drink.

“I…”  You’re about to take the sensible route, you’re so close to making the right decision.  Then again, bad decisions were far more tempting.  Especially with the help of an unaware acquaintance.  “Okay.”  You sigh, offering him a friendly grin.

Without further consideration, you pop the bottle cap off, pulling out two sparkling shot glasses and setting them on the counter confidently.  At least you didn’t have to drink alone.  

“Munson giving you a hard time?”  Steve suddenly inquires.  Your eyes nearly pop out of your head which you assume is why he elaborates.  “I know he’s kind of intense.  The first year he moved out here he was…he was so fuckin’ unhappy y’know?  And I know what you’re thinkin’: Why is this guy, Steve, who I just met, going on about Munson?”  He begins to ramble.

Slowly, you start to pour the foul smelling alcohol into one of the glasses as you listen intently.  A few drops trickle down the side but it goes ignored as you watch Steve’s every move.  He toys with the glass he’d just finished off, spinning it over and over again in circles atop the bar, a ring of condensation following.

“Don’t–fuck how do I say this?”  He pushes a weft of voluminous hair back.  “Don’t give up on him.”  Steve practically pleads.

You stop pouring the tequila, pausing to chew on your lip and look at him in confusion, which encourages him to continue.

“Look, Donnie was talking about how–how you’ve been really good for him.  And I don’t know–I just–I could sense that…you were mad at each other–you and Eddie, I mean.”

He takes your silence as a means to further explain and god, he could feel a migraine coming on just by the way he was stirring things up but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.�� Not when Donnie had been so adamant about Eddie being in such good spirits since you showed up only to come face to face with an almost seething Eddie, and Donnie wordlessly conveying to him that something was wrong.

“The point is, I know that he’s an asshole, okay?  Whatever he did, I’m sure he deserves a slap to the face.  Just–don’t give up on him.”

Steve’s words sink in.  You aren’t sure what has been said but it’s apparent that the tension between you and Eddie tonight was obvious among his friends.  You ponder his request–to not give up on Eddie as you fill the second shot glass and slide it across the counter.  If anything, Eddie had given up on you by accusing you of messing around with Jett.  It was insulting and humiliating.  Dehumanizing.  

“I think he’s the one who gave up on me.”  You admit, tossing the shot back with teary eyes.

The sting spreads down your throat, the potent smell filling your nostrils as you slam the glass down.  Your eyes are glassy though you only hope Steve can gather that it's just from the alcohol and not the idea of Eddie essentially throwing whatever you had in the garbage combined with the burn of tequila.

As if caught off guard, Steve quickly throws his shot back, apparently an expert as he doesn’t flinch, only widens his eyes as he slams the glass down as you had.  He exhales heavily, nodding, thinking to himself.  You await more wise words, more advice that he had no business giving although you appreciate the sentiment anyway.

“What are you doing?”

The world feels distant and not because of the alcohol.  Your blood runs hot, most definitely because of the alcohol.  The question is asked with such outrage that it almost has you shaking.  Getting caught was more embarrassing than any outcome you could’ve imagined though you didn’t even try to hide the evidence, didn’t even go as far as to take shots in the back.  Did you subconsciously want Eddie to catch you?

“Nothing.”  You mutter, quickly capping the bottle and setting it on its designated shelf.

“I just saw you.”  Eddie grits, hands splayed out on top of the bar, his arms spread out as he attempts to keep quiet so as not to interrupt the customers scattered throughout the bar. 

Eddie’s glare burns a hole into you and maybe it’s because of Steve’s sudden advice, the fact that he felt the need to stick up for Eddie even when he didn’t know the whole situation, but you refuse to give in.  He holds a fire in his eyes that you hastily reject as you begin cleaning out the shot glasses.  It was your goal to come off as unbothered but you fear you’re coming off more as guilty.  Like a dog that had been caught chewing up the family couch.

“It was my fault.”  Steve chimes in nonchalantly.

Eddie glances over, brows knit together in irritation.  “Your fault?”

“Yeah, we were getting acquainted.  I insisted, it was–”

“Steve had nothing to do with it.”  You fess up.

Eddie’s face reveals a whole other level of rage, his eyes nearly glazing over with black.  You fucked up.  That much you could admit to yourself.  Steve appears to be panicked, his gaze glued to the bar top, his hands gripping the edge, nails threatening to dig into the wood.

“Meet me in the back.”  Eddie demands, pushing himself off of the bar.  

Terrified doesn’t even begin to explain the list of feelings coursing through you.  You’d never seen him as angry as he was tonight.  You were drinking on the job, something that in a small town usually isn’t a big deal but with all of the tension hanging in the air, you could only assume it would add to his irritation.  It would only give him more ammo against you.

Steve offers you an apologetic stare, clearly also taken back by Eddie’s irate mood.  And then, he half nods as if to wish you good luck before standing and making his way back to the rest of the group.  As you timidly step out from the bar and round the corner, you catch Nancy’s sapphire eyes before they disappear, your legs carrying you into the narrow hallway where the office was located.  Except Eddie wasn’t in there and you could only conclude that he was outside.  ‘Meet me in the back’ meant ‘meet me outside’.  Which could only mean he was about to unleash hell on you if he needed to completely remove you from the building in order to reprimand you.

You don’t let yourself prepare, you need to face him without any thoughts clouding your judgment, only further shoving you into the hole you dug yourself.  With a push to the metal door, you’re met with an aching cold, the kind that stings the surface of any exposed skin.  Immediately your cheeks burn, a few snowflakes landing delicately among your eyelashes.  You should have grabbed your jacket.

Leaning against the hay bales stacked like a Tetris game, is Eddie.  A cigarette hangs from his lips while he struggles to keep the flame on his lighter alive, the wind fighting his every attempt.  He grunts in annoyance, his head tilting toward the sky as if to personally ask it ‘why?’.  Already, his cheeks and nose are tinted pink, borderline red.  You contemplate asking if you could talk inside but you quickly bite your tongue, you didn’t want to be the one to initiate the conversation.

“What’s your problem?”  He asks simply.  As if he were asking for the weather forecast.  It’s insulting, quite frankly.

“My problem?”

Suddenly the fear that had consumed you seconds ago dissipates, no longer plaguing you and being replaced with a wrath you’re convinced no one else on the planet could pull from you.  Even worse, he refuses to look at you, keeping his stare on the cloudy evening sky.  

“Are you trying to get fired?  ‘Cause I should fire you right–”

“Oh yeah, go ahead.  Fire me.”  

He’s quiet, attempting to light his cigarette once again.  This time he succeeds, the stick catching the flame as he inhales and tucks his lighter into his back pocket.  You begin to question if he even cares about the cold until you see the goosebumps pricking across his arms.

“I should.”  He mumbles, taking another drag.

“Great!  I’m glad we’re on the same page.”  You reply, sarcasm dripping from each syllable as you rub up and down your exposed arms.  It didn’t help that you decided to wear a skirt and tights tonight either.  

Without time to process, he takes a large step toward you, his breath hot as it fans across your face.  A sense of softness flashes in his eyes before they return to the fiery nature they previously exhibited.  His cigarette idles in his hand at his side, his jaw clenched and visibly tensing before he scowls.

“Same page?”  He bites.  “The same page.”  His free hand rubs along his jaw in thought.  “Okay, if we’re on the same page then explain to me why you’re doing shots with Harrington?  If we’re on the same page then we must be reading completely different languages because you started this.”

You scoff, his statement on replay in your ears.  Each time it plays again you find yourself even more enraged.  “I did?”  You’re smiling but there’s not an ounce of happiness in your features or your tone.  

Eddie backs away, the heat from his breath is missed, no matter how mad you are and no matter how strongly it smelled of smoke.  He paces, turning around before coming full circle and facing you again, another deep drag from his cigarette indicating that he’s stressed.  Then he nods, bangs falling into his eyes as he does.

“You did.  You just–you start ignoring me, start acting like I’m not even a person?”  He points the cigarette at you and you’re starting to believe that in the midst of his rage, he’s completely forgotten about the cold whereas it was the only thing you could focus on.  Regardless, you fight through it, even if your teeth chatter.

“And, and–hold on.”  He shakes his head, curls following his movement as he rushes inside.

Great.

He left you out in the cold, literally.

You weren’t going to wait, his disrespect wasn’t going to keep prodding at you, not if you had anything to say about it.  He didn’t get to storm off and leave you outside in the freezing cold, even if you did do something you weren’t proud of.  He was probably going to wait and see how long you would hold out, how long you would sit in the cold before inevitably running in and looking for him, how stupid you would look–

The door squeaks open again, smacking against the wall as Eddie comes racing out, leather jacket in hand.  Well, if he was allowed to grab his jacket then so were you.  His cigarette hangs from his bottom lip as he begins muttering around it.

“You started treating me like I didn’t exist, I don’t know how normal people react to that but–”  He adjusts the jacket, flattening out the material before draping it over your shoulders, encouraging you to put your arms in the sleeves.  “I assume any normal person would be fuckin’ pissed so I guess I’m not–I’m just not understanding.”  He says a bit harshly.

You don’t react, frozen as he waits for you to put your arm in the sleeve.  While he’s still visibly aggravated, his eyes also communicate something else to you.  The deeper you look into them, the more his pupils dilate, a nervous gulp noticeable as he awaits your reply.

“C’mon, you’re freezing.”  He whispers, a large contrast to his previous tone.  It’s warmer, it’s familiar, it’s like home.

“What about you?”  You mumble, staring dumbly into his big brown eyes, his lashes heavy against his cheeks, unlike how they were seconds ago when he was wild-eyed and riled up.  He was still riled up, that was for sure but now…now it was diluted with something else.

“Don’t worry about me, Bambi.”  The term of endearment slips from his tongue effortlessly.  Like it was meant to fall from his lips directly into your ears.  Like it was meant for you and only for you, always.

With parted lips, you can see your breath escape into the night.  You know he can hear your labored breathing and you should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in yourself to care when his gaze softens, the sturdy exterior he had built up again crumbling just as it had that one night.

“I do worry.”  

It falls from your lips quicker than you can contain it.  You shouldn’t be offering him such compassion, not when he was so okay with insulting you hours earlier.  But pools of melted chocolate never left you any other choice but to get lost in them.  He moves in closer, ever so slightly, only enough that you feel the familiar warmth of his breath on your cheek, so that you can still make out his whole face.

“Don’t.”  He says breathily.

“Why?”

He only shrugs, his focus trailing down your face, reaching every inch.  It makes you want to shy away but you can’t, not when he looks so sincere.

“‘M sorry.”  He whispers, reaching up to brush a rogue strand of hair from your face.

Your instinct is to ask ‘for what?’, but you know better.  You don’t need to play dumb, both of you are aware of his nasty words and your tendency to take things to a level they should have never gotten to.  You’re both to blame.  But you don’t need to pretend to not know what he’s apologizing for.  There’s no pretending with him.  So you can only hope that he’ll see through to the deeper meaning of your initial question. 

“For what?”

For what?  Would he say that he’s only sorry he hired you in the first place?  Or that he’s sorry he ever met you.  Would he understand your words and be in tune enough to decipher them?

“Everything.”  He whispers.

It’s quiet, almost eerily but not.  No, it’s too peaceful to be eerie.  The first snowflakes of the season are still falling and you’re standing outside the bar with Eddie Munson, a man who was so stubborn he seemed almost impossible.  Almost, but not.  Never for you.

“Everything.”  You repeat.  And he knows he owes you more.

“Everything.”  He swallows the lump in his throat that was preventing him from saying the necessary words.  It goes down smoother than he expects.  “Every second I was ever an asshole to you.  Especially my stupid ass comment about Jett.  I-I was mad and I took it out on you.  I tend to do that pretty often don’t I?”  He laughs humorlessly.  “I don’t think less of you if you’re actually…y’know.”  He gestures vaguely.

“What?”  You ask, genuine confusion taking over your features.

For a moment, his eyes shift back and forth, as if to beg you not to make him say it.

“With Jett.”  He mumbles, gaze now avoiding you.

“With Jett.”  You repeat in disbelief.  “I have done nothing to suggest we are at all together.”  You scoff.  

“I know.”  Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, as if he’s bracing for more choice words from you.  They don’t come.  “I know.  I just, he got in my head and–”

“Got in your head?” 

“It was nothing, he got in my head and got all, I dunno protective?  If that’s even the word.  He just seemed jealous, okay?”  Eddie explains.  “I know that’s not an excuse for what I said.  I’m really sorry for saying you dry hump–”

“Don’t ever use the word dry hump and Jett in a sentence where you’re referring to me again.”  You laugh.  This time humor floods through you.  His whole demeanor relaxes, shoulders less tense.  “It’s happened one too many times.”  You cringe jokingly.

“Okay, that’s fair.”  He smiles, that boyish grin returning to his face.  The one you hadn’t seen in days, the one you missed every time, the second he directed it toward you the first time.  His dimples deep, eyes shy, he still lingers close to your face, neither of you protesting the invasion of each other’s space.  “Now put your arms in the sleeves.”  He demands, tugging on the collar of his jacket still laying over your shoulders.  “Please.”  His face only inches closer to yours as he convinces you to shove your arms into his jacket.

“We’re about to go inside, I won’t need it.”  You argue, crossing your arms in front of you, a hip jutting out with sass.

“Oh okay, we’re back to this then?”  He smirks, finger grazing the button at the lapel of his jacket, almost scorching the skin of your neck.

That familiar spark ignites in his eyes, the fire that showcased so much unexplored emotion, so many uncharted territories within the man before you.  You wanted to explore them all, you wanted to hold his hand and trek across each foreign feeling.  You wanted to bathe in the sparks and light yourself on fire to speed up the process.  You didn’t just want to burn for him, you wanted to burn with him.  Your soul was drawn to him, you wanted to melt into him, melt into his touch, even if it was just his fingertip.  You’d take what you could get.  And you were really convinced that he wanted the same things solely based on the way he was looking at you with heavy eyes and rosy cheeks.

“Yeah, I’m not done addressing my grievances with you.”  You joke.

At this, he lights up even more, his entire face exhibiting pure fondness.  His lips are so perfectly pink, a little chapped, but the sweetest pink you’d ever seen.  They were pillowy and plush and as he licked them you blinked, falling out of your trance.  Then, his hands travel down the zipper of his jacket, only touching the worn material and not at all forcing his touch upon you though he longs to feel your warmth.  

Instead, he pulls you forward by gripping each side of the jacket, leaving you no choice but to come flush with his chest.  You welcome the heat, the sudden warmth that engulfs you like a cozy blanket calms your chattering teeth.  

“Yeah?”  He whispers, nose nearly bumping against yours.  You wish it would.

“Yeah.”

Your lashes just barely flutter against his cheek, only teasing him of what he actually desires, and you don’t even know it.  He’s glancing between your eyes and your lips and your internal reaction is to scream at him to just do it.  But is that even what he’s hinting at doing?  Maybe there was something on your face.  You weren’t going to assume his intentions and make yourself out to be a fool.

He hums in response, his hands still tightly clutching the jacket, the damn jacket that you were now wishing he never put on you just so you could feel his skin, the heat of his hands against your arms.  The ache was becoming too apparent in your chest, you needed him and there was no way to express it.  You couldn’t.

He smells of tobacco and a hint of pine.  Even a tiny bit of spice from some kind of cologne you’d grown used to smelling on him.  There’s a waft of beer falling from his breath as well, not too obvious, but obvious enough that you can gather that he had at least had a beer before work or during his break.

“Do me a favor?”  He asks.  And in that moment, you would do anything.

“Mm?” 

A quick finger pokes your nose playfully.  “No more tequila.”  

You can only laugh along with him, almost burying your head in his chest but refraining as you enter your body again.  This was not a daydream and he was not someone to call yours.  Fooling yourself was only going to get you hurt.

“I’m serious, it fucking stinks.”  He scrunches up his face in mock disgust, plugging his nose, you giggling along with his antics.

With that, he pulls away, leaving you feeling frigid, already missing his presence even if he was still right in front of you.  Opening the door, he gestures for you to go ahead of him.  The atmosphere had been flipped upside down, all hostility left outside in the cold to be swept away in a snowstorm.  

–

“And then Eddie fucking jumps off his roof!”  

The bar fills with laughter, unfiltered, stomach grabbing laughter of five friends and yourself.  The regular customers had long gone and paid their tabs, leaving the bar empty and the possibilities endless as everyone shared treasured stories over beers and drinks.  Steve appears to be pleased with himself as the laughter carries on for over a minute.  The image of Eddie drunk and jumping off of his roof as a means to prove he can ‘fly’ only to face plant into the ground and be driven to the ER was somehow the best entertainment you’d been faced with in a while.  

It was mentioned that he didn’t get injured too badly and only required a few stitches above his eyebrow where you could now seek out a scar and remember this night.  The night Eddie’s friends accepted you into their circle.  Even if only for the night.

“Well what about when you got a lampshade stuck on your head.”  Eddie points at Steve with his beer bottle.

Steve only offers a disapproving expression as the giggles erupt once again.  Robin sits to your right while Nancy sits to your left.  The pair had immediately taken a liking to you and moved chairs just so you could sit between them.  It felt nice, you felt welcome.  You had no worries and nowhere to be.  And for once that made you feel alive rather than anxious.

“Okay, but can we talk about you babysitting Eddie on Halloween?”  Nancy attempts to hold in her laughter.  She had said it quietly but not quietly enough as Eddie deadpans her.  

Robin lets out a shriek of laughter, clearly intoxicated.  You can only grin at everyone’s reaction.  Steve and Dustin had gotten into some kind of a ridiculous argument and throughout the night, you noticed it was a regular occurance.  They paid no mind to embarrassing Eddie further but Nancy had no issue with it even if she wasn’t outright talking to the whole group in the first place and only you and Robin.

“What, Munson?  You got plastered and she had to save the day.”  Nancy giggles.  She had obviously been a little wine drunk, a tiny bit tipsy.

“Yes, it’s very funny.”  He says monotone.  “Can we find a new joke now?”  He asks, rolling his eyes although you know he’s only playing around, his lips threatening to pull themselves into a smile.

“It’s okay to get white girl wasted every once in a while.”  You banter.

“Oh, it is?”  Eddie raises a brow.  “It’s okay to puke all over me after getting white girl wasted?  Off of my tequila?”

The table erupts in a series of ‘oh’s’.  You could take offense.  But it was so much more fun to mess with him.

“I’m not the one who got puked on at least.”  You shrug, unbothered.

The table gets loud again, siding in your favor based on their volume.

“Yeah?”  He asks.  As if you two were suddenly the only people in the bar.  As if his friends had disappeared.  As if you were back outside behind the bar just a few hours ago.

“Yeah.”  You answer, a certain softness in your tone that only he could understand.

Nancy’s gaze flits in between you, mischief crossing her features for a brief second, you swear you see it.  But nothing comes of it as she turns her attention to the argument that Dustin and Steve had started up again.  Robin chimes in every now and then, hiccuping dramatically.  You and Eddie, though a little buzzed, can’t stop staring at each other from across the table.  His gaze is heavy and yearning but for what you’re not sure.

His bottom lip continues to get tugged in between his teeth, abusing the already chapped skin as he unknowingly communicates his nervousness.  The only thing you’re sure of is that he won’t tear his eyes away from you.  Not for Steve’s request to aid in the argument, not for Dustin’s screeching voice demanding he take his side, and not for Jett who was making it known that he was leaving for the night.  Eddie only mutters in response, something along the lines of ‘see you tomorrow’.  Steve and Dustin are too caught up to even pay any mind to Eddie’s ignorance to their debate.  Robin is in her own world, curling her legs up to her chest in her chair as she becomes fascinated with the wood grain in the table while Nancy pretends to be preoccupied with swirling the wine in her glass and acts as if she’s listening to Dustin’s reasoning, nodding every now and then.  But you notice the way her diamond eyes take in the scene before her.  And now you’re sure that she has no interest in Eddie nor has she ever shown it.  

But she does have an interest in whatever was happening between you and Eddie.  She was studying the chemistry.

–

It was 4:00 AM, the sun would be emerging just on the Horizon within hours.  An exhausted Steve lays his head on the table over his folded arms.  Drool threatens to fall from the corner of his lip onto his sleeve, his mouth hanging open as he sleeps almost like a newborn.  Every other breath a deep snore rumbles through him.

“This isn’t even the weirdest place he’s fallen asleep.”  Dustin snaps a polaroid, the flash doing little to make Steve stir in his slumber, his eyelids only twitching as he navigates his dreams.  “One time we found him under his bed.”

You chuckle at the sight, Steve had been completely hammered off of several beers and a few shots of vodka that Robin had convinced him to take with her.  The second he wakes up, he’s in for a rude awakening, you’re sure.  

“Do you take a picture every time?”  You ask as Dustin hands off the developing picture to you, only to continue getting just the shot he wanted as he crouched down to get a better view of Steve’s face.

“Of course.”  He laughs, stating it like there was no other option.

“Steve’s reputation with drinking isn’t necessarily…the best?”  Nancy speaks, setting a fresh glass of water on the table in front of him.

You’d learned throughout the night that Steve and Nancy dated in highschool and although it was a nasty breakup, they remained friends and it never was weird after that.  They respected each other as they did their other friends and it showed.  

“I mean…I don’t think it’s that bad.  He’s just sleeping.  I’ve dozed off while drunk a few times.”  You defend.

“Yeah but have you dozed off in places people couldn’t even find you until we tore the house apart?”  Dustin counters with raised eyebrows.  “He also used to reign under the title ‘King Steve’ if that tells you anything.”

Showing your hands in surrender, you begin collecting the remaining glasses from the table.  Several dozen shot glasses that had provided a good night but would surely bring on a rough morning for those that had participated.  You’d taken two shots throughout the night and had half of Robin’s Dirty Shirley that she couldn’t seem to stomach.  And she wouldn’t quit until it was gone so you humbly volunteered seeing as she was already almost obliterated, stumbling around anytime she got up and slurring every word.

Robin was now talking Eddie’s ear off as she sat at the bar, narrating every piece of her life that he’d missed since she visited and last updated him.  You could vaguely make out her explanation for still not getting her driver’s license, stating that Steve was more than okay with being her chauffeur for the foreseeable future.  Then she insisted that should she get her license, she’d be an even worse driver than Eddie used to be so it’d be in everyone’s best interest to keep her off the roads.  

Eddie hums along to the conversation, letting Robin steer the topic as he leisurely polishes the glasses he hadn’t gotten to earlier, his friends occupying his full attention a majority of the night.  An impressive pile of glasses and cups are building up on your tray, Nancy assisting in collecting what she could as she follows you toward the bar.  

“Nance!  Tell him!”  Robin whines.  “Tell him how I’m a danger to the roads of suburbia!”

“You are most definitely a danger.”  Nancy smiles softly, moving Robin’s bangs out of her eyes with her free hand before delivering the glasses she’d collected onto the counter.

“See!”

“No need to convince me, Buckely.”  Eddie throws his rag over his shoulder.  “Although I’d probably have the time of my life with you behind the wheel.”  He grins, scooping up the tray you were having trouble setting down.  “But I’d also prefer to live a little longer so you avoid that DMV for as long as you can.”

Nancy nods in agreement, taking a seat on the stool next to Robin.  As you rush around the counter to assist in washing the remaining glasses, large brown eyes follow you, as if they missed you.  Like they’d never been happier to see you.  You still shy away from them, only because you’re not sure how long you can last until you melt, until your knees collapse beneath you and you’re a puddle on the floor.

“So what’s our game plan this time for getting Steve to the car?”  Nancy asks.

“Leave ‘em here.”  Robin slouches in her seat.

“Rob–”

“I second that.”  Eddie chuckles.  

“You guys are awful!”  Nancy proclaims.

You can only giggle to yourself, bubbles coating your hands as warm water leaks down to your elbows as you scrub each glass.  A sudden hip jabs into your side, creating enough room for Eddie’s lean frame to partake in the chore.  

“What’s so funny, Bambi?”  He questions, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You shake your head, still tuning into Robin’s scheme to leave Steve behind.  She had obviously been joking, the two constantly bickering with one another throughout the night like siblings only proving so.  But she seemed to enjoy pressing Nancy’s buttons as she persisted in her idea of abandoning the poor guy.

“Nothing.”  You mutter.

Your backs are facing the two girls, neither of them able to sneak a glance at Eddie’s wandering eyes that you could very clearly spot just out of your peripheral vision.  His hands continued to concentrate on the task at hand though not very well as he scrubbed the same tiny shot glass for at least two minutes too long.

“Y’know, you’re not being very helpful.”

With a click of his tongue, he finally sets the overly-clean glass atop the drying rack, reaching over you in the process.  It only made you aware of his comforting smell that you had basked in out in the cold earlier.  You’d never imagine wishing to do dishes for the rest of eternity but here you were, hoping that an eyelash would fall onto your cheek just so you could wish on it to stay in this very moment.

“‘M not?”  He smirks.

“Nope, you’re just making more work for me.”

“Oh, you tell him!”  Dustin suddenly peaks over both of your shoulders, quiet as a mouse until he had made his presence known.  It startles you, a gasp escaping your lips.

“Henderson, don’t sneak up on people like that.”  Eddie holds a hand over his chest.

“Look alive.”  He shrugs, snooping around at the shelves that would otherwise be obscured from his view on the other side of the bar.

“Nothin’ for you back here, you’re not even twenty one.”  Eddie turns around, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms.  

“Wha-oh don’t be like that!  I only have like two more years and that’s rich coming from you of all people, Eddie.”  Dustin points a finger, sticking it harshly into Eddie’s chest.  

“Do as I say, not as I do.”  Eddie mumbles, returning to his task, snatching up the last two glasses that remained before you could, swatting your hands away.

“What’s he talking about?”  You dare to ask.

Dustin brings an arm over your shoulder, the other over Eddie’s, a huge grin plastered on his face as if he’d been waiting for you to ask the question.  Eddie only offers him a side eye, nothing malicious but a light warning.

“Eddie here used to have a big reputation.”  He explains, patting him on the back.  Eddie only rolls his eyes, clearly indicating that he didn’t have any real issue with Dustin revealing pieces of his past.

“Oh?”  You wipe your hands on a nearby rag, turning toward Dustin, intrigued.

“Yeah, he used to be the friendly neighborhood drug dealer.”

Your face doesn’t shift, only making it more difficult to gauge your reaction.  Eddie starts to fear that this was going to be your wakeup call.  Your revelation as to who he really was.  He knows Dustin meant know harm in it and to be fair, the kid had probably snuck a few beers away from Steve.  There was no ill intent, only playful banter although Eddie hadn’t anticipated how you might have felt about his previous endeavors until after Dustin spoke those words.

“Dustin!”  Robin calls for his attention, chewing on a cocktail straw.  

Without a second thought, the boy turns his attention toward the two girls sitting at the bar, making his way around to take a seat next to Robin only to assist her in some kind of party trick she had been trying to work out with a napkin.

“How’s it go?”  She mutters around the straw.

Eddie stares at the bubbles in the sink like they’re the only thing in the room, his eyes following each one drifting toward the drain and idling at the bottom of the basin as the remaining water drains.  Sparkly little bubbles created reflections in his eyes that could resemble stars.  And he waits.

He waits for your reaction, waits for you to detach yourself from him because god, he didn’t know what was happening between you two since stepping back inside the bar all those hours ago but he didn’t want it to end just because his past put you off.  It was inevitable that the single good thing happening to him would come to an end.  That this night would end.

He doesn’t expect you to shove your hip into his just as he had done to you earlier, twirling a rag in between your fingers, offering him a smirk.  

“Big reputation, huh?”  You playfully raise your eyebrows up and down.

Relief washes over him.  It doesn’t have to end.  This night isn’t over, maybe he can have whatever this is for a few more minutes, an hour if he’s lucky.  He’d delay going home if it meant you’d keep toying with him, teasing him over silly little things that his friends had told you about.  He didn’t mind, not when your face would light up at every tiny ‘secret’ you were let in on.  Eddie knew very well that his friends had been enlightening you with small details about his life back in Hawkins, about every time they’d visited Knife’s Edge, all the big moments and embarrassing drunk shenanigans.  He didn’t mind.  Because it meant that they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“Shut up.”  He gently nudges your shoulder with his.

~end~

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[inkpot909]

The Entire Group Having Feelings for the Reader Headcanons (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Fem!Reader; pronouns aren’t specified but is written as a girl. Reader is around Bruno and Abbacchio in age. Their sexuality is undefined, but is written as liking women. It’s made clear the Reader is not interested in anyone on the team/doesn’t reciprocate anyone’s feelings.

Summary: Having once been the newbie on Bucciarati’s team, a certain amount of unwanted attention was to be expected from your peers. However, the reactions to your inclusion on the team were more than you bargained for.

Warning(s): None.

The first one you’re going to catch harboring a little crush is most likely Narancia. Still young, he heard there would be a girl joining the group and his interest was immediately peaked. Weirdly enough, Bruno was quite keen on brushing past that fact.

One small comment from Giorno- feeling the need to point out how Narancia was considerably less friendly towards him his first week -and it was soon obvious to you what was going on here.

In all honestly, everyone knew right away and no one took it seriously. It was difficult for the others to not notice, considering Narancia would follow you everywhere and take every possible opportunity to include you in something.

The dismissiveness of his feelings also came from you yourself; to the point where it only ever crossed your mind if someone else made a jab at Narancia’s expense.

You did scold the others for making comments about it though, finding it insensitive. Sure, the age gap is a clear enough indication nothing will ever come of it, but you don’t go out of your way to be rude.

Only once did you have to not-so-subtly turn him down. He never really acted on it, but he did have the tendency to showing off for you whenever he could.

One particular occasion of him doing so, Fugo had made a snide remark at Narancia’s expense. “Oh, please, you’re only doing this because you like her. It’s embarrassing,” he told him outright.

Sensing a possible fight, you laughed it off and said affectionately, “Leave him alone! He’s just being sweet. Besides, nothing’s ever gonna happen. He’s like a brother to me.”

Could you have handled it better? Probably. Was that a blow to Narancia’s confidence? Definitely. Did it articulate your feelings in manner he could understand? Most certainly.

He’s a nice kid, you recall thinking on the matter, Someone’s gonna fall head over heels for him someday. Guys like him always find genuine love.

Little did you know at the time, there were other reasons as to why no one else took Narancia’s affections all too seriously.

The next one you noticed catching feelings was Mista. However, this time around the realization was abrupt and much more difficult for you to brush off.

Sitting next to him on Bucciarati’s couch, you’d been relaxing together one afternoon.

It was the first time you two ever had done so; much to your excitement. Your heart swelled with hope, internally eager to soon be considered a part of their little family.

Then he just had to try putting an arm around you.

Your attitude over responding to Mista’s advances is notable compared to the others, because he acts very specifically towards you. He openly and clearly flirts. And a forward approach warrants a forward rejection. It’s an attitude you remember Abbacchio positively commenting on.

You turned your head, hands motionless on your lap. Yet your eyes were fueled with firm resolve, a slight squint to them.

“No thank you,” is what you simply said, more than enough for him to remove his arm and even put a few more inches between the both of you.

That honesty is respected by him, though. It causes him to change his approach for a while. And at some point, he likely realized you’re not looking for anything like that from him.

Regardless, both him and Narancia still continue to follow you around like lost puppies. Clambering for your attention and approval.

The closeness at least formed a genuine friendship with the two, one that you truly hold dear. And if the lack of any confessions is any indication, they appreciate it as well.

And where those two go, Fugo is usually following close behind them with a sour look on his face.

You just had to laugh; the trio was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Narancia and Mista welcomed you with open arms, much to Fugo’s clear annoyance. He was put off by their quick acceptance of you, likely being one of the first to point out that it’s ‘because you’re a girl.’

What really seemed to set him off initially was that they started including you in the three’s tiny click within the group as a whole. Now it isn’t just the three of them anymore, there’s a forth person taking up space.

Wouldn’t suggest mentioning it to Mista or he may genuinely consider kicking Narancia to the curb.

Eager to please, as well as apologize for disrupting this friend group’s dynamic, you tried your hardest to see eye-to-eye with Fugo.

Fortunately, the only difficult part was finding things to talk about after some time passed and he begrudgingly accepted that you were there to stay. After that, it was a slow but natural progression.

Soon, he seemed to tolerate your presence much better. Then, he started instigating conversations with you instead of it strictly being the other way around. Once enough of a bond was established, you’d started getting the impression he would much rather spend time with you than the other two.

Like with Mista, the realization hit you while sitting right next to him. It was out of the blue, as Fugo hadn’t said a word to you that day. No, your mind was just wandering and happened to connect the dots.

Well, shit. You had laughed out loud, earning confused looks from the three around you.

You were honestly concerned; more so than with the others. You couldn’t brush it off as easily as you could with Narancia, as Fugo’s timidness on the matter could mean he’d just become upset. Couple that with his short temper, and you feared you could lose his friendship over it.

Your worries were proven to be unfounded, luckily. After some discussion with Narancia and Abbacchio, you learned Fugo doesn’t actually want anything from you.

You’re silently thankful, happy to coexist with him just as normal. He could have his little crush, and still hold onto a very real friendship. Quite mature of him, but never something you’d never compliment him on directly.

In fact, thinking of Fugo makes you reminiscent of Giorno’s admittedly weird style of approach.

By then you had said… what, maybe two or three sentences in total to the kid? But out of the blue, one morning, you passed him while leaving the house.

He stopped you in your tracks, holding out his hand in front of you and keeping you still. For a moment, he was silent. But before you could open your mouth and ask him “What’s wrong?” he beat you to the punch.

You… admittedly don’t remember exactly what he told you. Something poetic about your beauty… yeah. It was the type of sentiment that was thought out thoroughly beforehand.

Still, despite feeling guilty over not remembering, it’s easy to assume it doesn’t really matter. Considering he completely went radio silent on the subject afterwards.

Perhaps he just felt like he really needed to say something before moving on, you figured.

And honestly, credit where credit is due, both Giorno and Fugo kept their distance. Enough to express it was a simple crush and nothing more. You were glad you never had to vocally turn them down, because they already understood you weren’t the one for them.

You entertained the idea of them maybe bonding over it. Talking about girls while they braid each other’s hair, you giggled to yourself, amused by the thought.

Speaking of bonding, through almost it all, Abbacchio was your rock.

It was a rough start with him, no question. For the first couple of weeks he was very critical of your decisions on missions and outside of them rarely gave you even a passing glance.

But he gradually became your scapegoat when the others were tripping over themselves for your time. Even Bruno insisted on getting his far share of time with you.

You had came to Abbacchio first, confinding in him and taking his advice very seriously. That was something he appreciated. Abbacchio’s casual attitude was a breath of fresh air when you really needed it, and was surprisingly understanding of your viewpoint (The prospect of possibly upsetting Giorno’s got to factor into that, right?).

The two of you mostly spend time together one-on-one, whether in deep conversation or comfortable silence. The foundation of your friendship was born from complaining, but you found other subjects to focus on as well.

It was, with hindsight, the most shocking development yet. Out of everyone there, you weren’t expecting to become close to Abbacchio… ever, really.

The closer you got, the more you were able to appreciate his character. He’s got a surprisingly good sense of humor, and looks after everyone on the team more than he’s given credit for. Most of all, he’s a really good listener if you’re completely h-… Are you… are you kidding me? What is happening?

You actually doubted your guess this time around for a good while; it’s far too absurd! Abbacchio’s a reserved individual, so it wasn’t as noticeable after all.

But conversations with the others made it all too clear. They knew him better than you, and when it comes to Abbacchio, no one is going to lie about his feelings just for the sake of it.

Regardless, like Giorno and Fugo, he kept his lips sealed whenever you’re around.

You felt a good amount of guilt having vented to him in the past, but if he wasn’t saying anything, you weren’t going to either.

By the time you one day received word that Bucciarati wished to speak to you in private, you seriously contemplated ditching him entirely. However, you respected the man too much to do so.

It’s an ungodly hour, you point out helplessly to yourself. I have no idea what on earth he wants to talk to me about right now, and at this point I don’t even want to know.

Your mental ramblings pause in tandem with your feet, stopping firmly in front of your boss’s office door. You shiver, pulling your robe over your front to the point of overkill. Peaking between the bottom of the door and the floor below, you smile upon seeing light still illuminating from within.

Yes, it’s an ungodly time. But both Bucciarati and I work late at night often anyways, you reason. With that in mind, you knock gingerly.

You hear a gentle “Come in,” from within the room. Smiling, you already feel Bucciarati’s aura of comfort. Entering, you spot him hunched over behind his desk. A laptop sits open on its wooden surface, but his attention’s been turned away by now.

“Apologies for asking you to come here so late,” he chuckles, returning your pleasant expression.

“It’s not very professional of you, Capo,” you jest lightheartedly. Moving swiftly, you sit yourself down on a chair placed opposite to him.

“Fair enough,” he decides, crossing his legs. “How’s your day gone, tesoro?”

You hum, contemplating his question. It’s sweet; something he always asks whenever he can. Thinking of Abbacchio, then everyone else in turn, you barely give yourself another chance to breathe while you lay out all that you’ve experienced thus far.

You loved the team, but you’d be lying if you said everyone’s affection wasn’t getting to you a little. Most of all, you worried how their feelings could effect the team as a whole. And ever since discovering how Abbacchio feels, you haven’t had anyone to discuss it with anymore.

You weren’t sure if Bruno could really do anything about it. Hell, you didn’t know if you really wanted him to. Just to talk about it unfiltered was enough weight taken off your shoulders.

Minutes pass before your voice dies down, taking in short breathes. With wide eyes, you stare at Bucciarati expectantly. However, much to your discomfort, he remains silent. His head is tilted away from you and down at his desk, pupils remaining fixated in one position. It’s a clear sign he’s in deep thought, something you’re wary of disturbing.

A moment is too long for you to wait, quick to become self conscious over your word-vomit.

He clears his throat, catching your full attention once more. Adjusting the front of his collar, his eyes were glued to your own. During a mission it would be grounding, or maybe even a little intimidating. Any other time it would be comforting. Now, the nervous energy pouring from his person offers the exact opposite.

Quietly, he simply says, “…Maybe we should talk another time, then.”

At that point, you didn’t know why you were shocked. Leaving his office, there was no doubt.

Bruno was fair, not the type to ever play favorites with anyone on the team. But upon reflection, you realize he dotes on you in a special way.

Not only did he accept and voice your place on the team almost immediately, but he seemed to request your presence during peaceful moments just as much as anyone else in the group.

And by the time you new about everyone else, that should have been a dead giveaway.

Fights or arguments had over you is never something you’ve seen for yourself. According to Narancia and Abbacchio, they do happen. The how and why is kept so vague you almost believed they were just pulling your leg.

The last time it was talked about, there was no more room for doubts on whether or not they actually occurred.

Bruno happened to be present when Narancia was talking to you about it. He was quick to step in, downplaying whatever goes on during those arguments. After that, he silenced the discussion entirely.

You were a little disappointed the subject suddenly became taboo after that day, but was also quite grateful. It was clear he took your worries very seriously, considerate of your comfort with the rest of the team.

But time marches on, making the first year with Passione feel like a lifetime ago.

You long became a part of their found family, and the idea of the others crushing on you hardly ever floats around in your brain anymore.

And when it comes to the members you’re close to in age, all thoughts of “What if…” or “Just maybe…” eventually fizzle out from their minds as well.

How could they persist? Especially after one day, when you came home from a lunch out with an old friend of yours. Smiling wide and blushing from head to toe, you couldn’t help but cheerfully tell the group about the person you now happily call your girlfriend.

[midnightsun-if]

Seeing the last ask and Scarlett's reaction, I'm curious how a therapist who is more or less the only Sane One would deal with each ro, and vise versa. Like that edge of complete sanity and rationality against the moods and opinions of each ro.

Like clearing their throat, and very calmly explaining to Scarlett that feeling "a bubble of happiness" at her beloved presenting a heart of an assassin of her to her that she killed in "cruel and unusual" ways is not a healthy reaction, no.

Therapy would be a good solution for a couple of them, you're right. Though, it's very likely that, by the end of the various sessions, the therapist would need to get their own in return.

Koda: He'd be dream patient, let's be real. Would answer all of the therapist's questions as honestly as possible, wouldn't put up a fuss about revealing things, he'd just be overall earnest about trying to cooperate with the person that's trying to help him get better. Even if he doesn't exactly understand why he's seeing a therapist to begin with: "I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I was wondering if you know why I'm here? I've been trying to figure it out." That'd probably put the therapist into a bit of a tailspin, but Koda's genuine curiosity would help exceptionally.

Scarlett: Would either be completely dismissive of the therapist: "I'm curious as to why you think I'd value your insight. Me being here isn't based upon anything you may have, or may have not, accomplished. Frankly, I don't care who you are, nor do I think I'll remember you the moment this session is over. You may prattle on with your inane opinions, of course, but do not expect me to give them any credence." Or she'd be her classic cunning self and be ready to send barbs the therapists way: "It's quite baffling that you believe I'd feel anything but exuberance towards the death of the very person that wished to have me killed. Do you not wish for the same thing when you're watching thrillers or horror movies? Or do you find the humanity within those that wish to kill what has not harmed them? If anything, that says more about you than it does I.'

Cyrus/Cyra: They'd be completely flustered about being there in the first place, but they'd also try to be as accommodating as they possibly could -- good manners aren't something they shirk, even if they're not exactly happy with their current situation. The room probably heating up a bit due to said agitation: "I'm aware that things have been less than stellar for me as of late, but I don't believe it's warranted anything like this. I do apologize if you think I'm calling into question your capabilities, I just don't believe they're needed here."

Quinn: This scenario would definitely be a time where they'd be totally tense, simply watching the therapist watch them in return, causing their wolf to prickle in response to a potential opponent. They're not the happiest camper in the world, but they'd try to remain calm and collected, even if their hand keeps clenching and their teeth are slightly sharper than usual: "What would you like to know? I'm pretty much an open book." However, the moment the therapist tried to move onto the familial territory, Quinn would snarl back in response: "I suggest moving on from this topic immediately. It's a direction that I don't think you'd enjoy reaching the end of."

Caden: The poor therapist wouldn't even know where to begin with Caden.... Caden doesn't know what to do with Caden at times. Compounded by the fact that Caden would, more than likely, be invisible. So, if anyone walked in, they'd think the therapist is crazy because they're seemingly holding a session with no one in the room. If, and I do mean if, Caden would be able to get ahold of themself, and relax enough to become visible again, I could see them sharing bits and pieces from their past, but it'd be completely obvious that they're leaving things out, refusing to elaborate further: "I have a long history, I've seen a lot things, and have done quite a bit too. I-I don't understand why you want to know all of this. I'm nothing special."

Sloane: Wouldn't say a damn thing. They'd simply slouch back, probably flicking their lighter open and close, and glare stare at the therapist without letting a single thing show; the ticking of the clock being the only sound in the room. Probably would even stay a little bit longer after the session ended to truly send the point home that the therapist would not want them to return. But, as they'd stand up to leave, they'd finally say something: "It's been fun, doc. We should try this again sometime."

Blake: Is definitely the kind of person to give absolutely absurd/horrifying answers to Rorschach Test and wouldn't have any qualms about doing so; would find it quite funny, in fact: "Will you stop showing me pictures of that? It's quite sickening." (Would not elaborate on what's so sickening about said image.) Or they'd just make up random stories/answers to appease the therapist and hopefully move on with their life: "You see, doc, I grew up on a little farm just outside of a little down. Ma and Pa did the best they could, but there were too many mouths to feed, I was the oldest of eight after all, so I don't blame them for putting me to work as soon as I reached knee height."

Reginald/Regina: Would flop down onto the couch and go on a complete tangent about various things, probably spiraling into subjects that have nothing to do with why they're there in the first place: "I'm not saying I support kidnapping, of course I don't, I'm just aware that if someone decided to do that to Grogu, I'd understand." Might have their therapist checking their watch actually -- while being completely oblivious -- as they try to reign the human gremlin back in as they'd probably start going on a tangent about Star Trek next.

[autumnapricot]

okay okay, so obviously max trusts charles so completely with his life and everything, but do you think there’s ever been a split second thought from max where he was actually scared from charles possessiveness? or not exactly scared of that exactly but scared of ‘being owned’ for lack of better wording, or kind of belonging to someone? how would him and charles talk that out, because charles would obviously never want max to be uncomfortable and max doesn’t want charles to feel like he did anything wrong, (my shower thoughts have turned yswtt verse related)

not yswtt haunting your shower time😂🥹 but please feel free to send me all your yswtt shower thoughts, i‘m interested 🫳🏼🥰

mmmhm interesting & good question!

because it very well possibly could be—since max despised the idea of being owned by an alpha because that‘s what he thought it would all end up to be for so long. it‘s obviously different with charles and he also likes charles being protective or possessive of him to an extent, and (i would say so at least) other than during charles‘ rut, charles isn‘t over the top overpossessive. like max maybe reprimands him when charles glares someone off but it‘s mostly done with fondness. i can see that there maybe would be a situation arising though where perhaps charles or max or both are a little on the edge, and charles reacts to something that didn‘t acquire such a possessive reaction. perhaps within the pack, even, because there really is no reason to lash out at carlos or oscar or anyone else from their pack for that matter because none of them would ever try something with max or do anything to harm him. i can see that max would feel put off by that. because it even feels like being controlled or like he‘s only charles‘ when that‘s not what he wants—yes, he wants to be charles‘, but not only. and his alpha packmate getting growled at or tugged away from max when they did nothing to warrant that, that feels like being controlled and like he can‘t be anything but charles‘ omega. i do think that‘s be something max would get upset over.

they would talk it out and figure out a way ofc but yeahh it would be a little tricky like you said because charles definitely has this way of immediately putting way too much blame on himself and then retreating, like, five steps when max only asks to nudge it down a bit, trying to explain like hey, i felt like that in this particular situation and maybe you could not do that again? and charles is like yes yes ofc i‘m sorry….and the next time something small happens where he would usually react max notices him clearly holding back and trying not to vibrate out of his skin and sighs to himself this idiot (lovingly)

so it‘d be a bit tricky to figure it for both of them—but they obviously would <3

[candygalaxyyy]

I realized something very important about msp and the screenwriter/director’s choice in building the plot. And episode 10 is a great example.

As i was rewatching the brilliance that is episode 10, I thought to myself if this was any other standard bl it would have gone differently. A tumor is such a serious matter, especially when it’s your mother, the only immediate family Gun has, he’s only 17/18 and he lost his father at a young age in such a sudden way. So of course he is going to be upset or even mad when his mum keeps this from him. And Tinn being in on it too, because in a relationship being open is so important and trust/honesty is everything.

I also noticed that Gun may have felt insecure (or possibly threatened) by the fact that his mum and Tinn kept this secret from him (which are valid feelings). Mostly because he says things like: “stay the hell out, she’s my mum”, “I’m your son yet i had no idea you were sick”, “what did he do for you?” and “why are you adoring him so much?” (He doesn’t even say Tinn’s name because in this situation he’s an outsider, he’s not her son or family member). And at this point Gun doesn’t know that his mum knows about Tinn and him or about all the sweet things Tinn has done for his dream. So him being confused/insecure/upset is warranted because he only has his mum. He is possessive of his mum, because they only have each other and her trusting someone else who isn’t family with such a important thing is puzzling for Gun (even more with him thinking she doesn’t know). And the best part about all of this is that both Tinn and Gun’s mum knew it would upset him, so they came prepared for his reaction. Gun’s mum explains everything to Gun instantly and makes him realize how deep and true Tinn’s love is for him, plus she emphasizes that this type of love is rare and must be cherished. Tinn doesn’t get angry or hurt by his reaction, he understands it and even reassures him that he would react the same way.

GMMTV could have easily used this to create tension for drama and conflict. They could have thrown in some trusty miscommunication, a heated conversation where people say or do hurtful things, a gateway to the ‘cursed ep 11 breakup’ and they could have milked the f out of this conflict. But they didn’t!!! Instead they turned it into a touching episode about love, friendship, family and being thankful for the people around you. They used it to highlight six things:

1. The beautiful relationship between Gun and his mum. They rely on each other, care for each other and love each other. They are mother and son, they are family.

2. The deep and pure love Tinn has for Gun. It is unconditional. Tinn did all these things for him without expecting anything in return. He just wants his crush/now boyfriend to be happy!

3. Gun realizing that Tinn is precious and he means much more to him than he lead on. That this is not some little high school relationship, it’s much deeper and heavier than that. So deep that he comes to the revelation that he’s only singing his song for Tinn and not the competition.

4. Gun’s mum supporting her son in everything whether it be his dream or love life. And the growing mother-in-law and son-in-law relationship between her and Tinn, like this woman already trust him with her life. She’s planning the wedding as we speak.

5. Their friends are amazing. Tiw constantly supporting his bestie and giving him advice. The chinchillaz boys comforting and hugging Gun on stage when he finds out his mum his safe and the surgery went well.

6. TINNGUN ARE THE HEALTHIEST, SWEETEST AND MOST BEAUTIFUL SWOONWORTHY BOYFRIENDS IN BL HISTORY.

‘My school president’ is truly a gem and GMMTV hit the jackpot with GeminiFourth. Case closed.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

can u write about lil house and cg Wilson playing video games? :3

- @tummy-rubs-for-wilson-pup

Here you are! This also includes little!chase playdate hours, hope you don't mind!

-----

Word Count: 965

Summery: Wilson is looking after a regressed Chase and House while they play video games, and House learns how to lose.

-----

“Yes!” Chase cheered, doing a little victory dance from his spot on the floor. House rolled his eyes and huffed. His cheeks were puffed out like a grumpy squirrel, and if Wilson didn’t know any better he might have thought he was exaggerating. But to a regressed House, it was a completely warranted reaction to tying with Chase in Mario Kart.

“Oh ho-ho! Looks like Robbie is making a comeback!” He declared in a dramatic announcer-voice. House shot him a death-glare over the shoulder, but it always lost its bite when he was little. Instead it just made him want to pat House on the head and say ‘Aw, it’s okay little buddy’.

Chase was already past his victory and was eagerly asking House about the next circuit they should choose for the final race. He was glad that Chase finally seemed to have relaxed and settled into the playdate. It had taken him a while to regress in the first place, and after that he looked so hesitant to take up any space that he and House couldn’t really play together. But once the N64 was put in front of them they were off to the races, rotting their brains away with video games as all kids should. Thank God for technology. 

“Are you boys hungry?” He asked, already standing because he knew House’s answer would be yes, “I can grab us some snacks from the kitchen. What do you want?”

“Chocolate bar.” House replied without looking up, too distracted with picking the best possible track. Chase didn’t say anything and stared him owlishly, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to ask for anything.

“Robbie? Do you want something? We have apples, chocolate bars, apple sauce, and cheese and crackers.” He figured giving Chase a list of options would make the choice easier. That way, it was a direct offer instead of an open-ended question.

“Um… cheese n’ crackers, please and thank you.” He said shyly, and Wilson smiled.

“I can do that. I’ll just be in the kitchen if you need anything, okay?”

And that should have been it. One simple trip to the kitchen, Wilson would only be gone for maybe five minutes, probably less, and Chase and House would be very responsible five and six year-olds while he was gone.

But of course, nothing could ever be that simple. He was just re-wrapping the block of cheese and putting it back in the fridge when he heard a clatter from the living room and Chase yelp.

“Hey! Why’d you do that!?”

Wilson let out a long breath, abandoned the snacks on the counter, and walked at a something-is-probably-mildly-to-moderatly-wrong pace back to the living room. House was still in front of the TV, looking uncomfortable and staring holes into the screen that showed his character cheering in victory and Chase’s sitting still on the track, race unfinished. The second controller was across the room near his feet, disconnected from the system, and Chase was sitting by the couch scrunched up on himself and visibly upset.

It didn’t take a genius to piece together what had happened, but he had to ask anyway. “What happened?”

House shrugged and stubbornly kept his eyes on the TV, and Wilson watched as Chase observed  House’s reaction for the right thing to do and then copied it exactly. 

“Uh huh.” He walked over and slowly sat down in front of Chase, blocking his view of House. He wasn’t crying, but he did look teary. “Robbie, do you want to tell me what happened? You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

The internal battle in Chase’s head was visible on his face as he went between telling on his friend and being upset with what House had done. “I… I was winning an’ then, um, House unplugged my controller a-an’ threw it away…” He mumbled. 

That’s what he thought. “Thank you for telling me.” He said gently, then he turned to House, who had finally turned around but was averting his eyes shamefully.

“House?”

“I didn’t wanna lose…” House grumbled, obviously embarrassed. Wilson didn’t think he would ever get used to just how open House’s face became when he was regressed, how every emotion was broadcasted loudly in his expression. Big-House wouldn’t be caught dead with his face that shade of red.

“I think you know what you did was wrong, don’t you?”

He didn’t get an answer.

“Alright. Well, I think we should spend a few minutes in timeout, and then when you’re ready, we can—“ Wilson was cut off by Chase’s hand grabbing his shirt. 

“Wait! I thought you said we weren’t in trouble?” He asked, looking confused and almost betrayed.

Wilson raised an eyebrow. Was he really defending House? He was certainly more sympathetic than Wilson would’ve been at this age. “You’re not in trouble, but House did something mean to you, and he needs to apologize.”

“Then he can just say sorry, right? He doesn’t need’a go to timeout, that’s not any fun!”

“Well…” He turned to House, who was obviously just as surprised as he was that Chase wasn’t happy to banish him to timeout for his crimes. “I guess so. House? Do you want to apologize?”

“I… I guess. I’m sorry, Robbie.”

“For?” Wilson prompted when House seemed to decide that was enough.

House huffed. “For knocking away your controller when you were winning.”

Chase smiled, all wrongdoings apparently forgiven. “Thank you!” He turned to Wilson, “Can we go back to playing now?”

He chuckled and stood up, ruffling Chase’s hair. “Sure. I’m proud of you boys, that was very good problem-solving. Now, is it over? Have we solved the world’s problems for the day?”

“Don’t forget our snacks!” House piped up, before freezing and smiling up at him sheepishly. “…Please.”

[susagnon]

Eijirou's POV on the dynamic between Bakugou and Midoriya

Kirishima and Deku share quite a few significant characteristics: Both of them are among the sweetest kids in 1-A. Humble about themselves, but very open about their admiration for others. There is little doubt, that they also hold strong admiration for each other. Along with Uraraka and Asui, the two boys had to keep their involvement in the Shie Hassaikai raid a secret from the rest of their class for weeks. They prepared for the operation together, and went into the raid together.

However, I’m not sure where to place Midoriya from Kirishima's POV regarding their biggest commonality: Each of them has a significant personal tie to Bakugou, but very different ones.

Bakugou haters and apologists alike, have argued about class 1-A’s hypothetical reactions towards the true extent of Bakugou’s bullying of Deku (as well as whether those hypothetical reactions would be warranted or not) to death. I have no desire to get into that.

Nevertheless, I have wondered about Kirishima’s thoughts behind his canonical reaction towards Midoriya and Bakugou's interactions. Or more precisely, his lack of reaction throughout the series.

To contrast: There's one scene where Uraraka confronts Bakugou and point-blank asks him, why he treats Deku like dirt. I see this as a very brave act from Uraraka. Not because of who and how Bakugou is (crass at best, violent at worst, let’s not sugarcoat this), because I don’t think that he would have had physically attacked her for that, but because of the cultural context of Japan. It is very frowned upon to “meddle” in what people perceive to be others’ private business.

However, while I do share the opinion, that their relationship to each other is mainly Deku and Bakugou’s private business, I would not classify Uraraka confronting Bakugou with the negative connotations of meddling:

By being so openly hostile to Deku, Bakugou had already broken the social rule of keeping your private business, well, private, and not imposing your issues on others. His degree of unrestrained hostility towards Deku could have (or has it canonically?) very well disturb the entire group’s hero training overall.

In the present, Deku is Uraraka’s friend. And their mutual classmate is presently treating him like shit.

In my eyes, those two facts are reasons enough, for Uraraka to at least ask Bakugou a few questions.

One would think that those would be reason enough for Kirishima to confront Bakugou too. So why has neither he, nor any of the other 1-A kids done anything of significance in that direction?

Uraraka confronted Bakugou, and asked questions. To which he logically would have had to either be able to justify himself somehow, or cease his aggression towards Deku immediately. Naturally at that point, Bakugou does neither. He just leaves huffing and puffing. But people have to ask others such question, and not just as a throwaway remark (a half-hearted "Bakugou, calm down" doesn't count), to signal, that their treatment of others is not acceptable. Afterall, continuous disapproval can influence people to change their behaviour.

Even if one may interject that Kirishima is closer to Bakugou, than he is to Midoriya... that would only be more of an argument for Kirishima to intervene, as he has more emotional leverage over Bakugou than e.g. Uraraka.

And even with everything else aside, based on Kirishima’s overall characterization, one would have thought, that he would never be okay with his friend attacking another classmate repeatedly for no discernible legitimate reason.

The only tentative possible reason I could come up with, for why Kirishima never intervened here, is that to him, Midoriya had never seemed less capable than Bakugou from the very first day they all started at UA together. As in, Kirishima had never perceived any power disparity between Midoriya and Bakugou.

...

However, Kirishima and the rest of 1-A did witness, what Bakugou did to Deku during their first class assignment (All Might deserves criticsm for not interrupting that fight. He truly was a bad teacher... still isn't a good one). Even after that incident, Bakugou’s verbal aggression towards Deku still continued on for a while.

While Kirishima may not be emotionally intelligent to same degree that e.g. someone like Kaminari is implied to be, Kirishima is still sensitive to his peers’ feelings (see his reaction towards Tsu-chan's sadness after Kamino).

Furthermore, one must simply be blind and deaf to have missed Bakugou’s belligerency towards Deku - that lasted at least until they had beaten the crap out of each other and got grounded together.

As such, it can be safely inferred, that Kirishima (and the rest of 1-A) noticed that Deku and Bakugou had bad history with each other - and that the animosity came one-sidedly from Bakugou.

Either way. If I witnessed a peer being repeatedly put down by another, I would firmly and repeatedly tell the latter to knock it off, stfu, and get himself a therapist for his anger issues...

...

What did Kirishima see, when he looked at Midoriya, and everytime he witnessed how he was treated by Bakugou?

How did Kirishima justify it to himself, to not try harder to get his bestie to stop being a total dick to another friend/ a classmate?

After Bakugou apologized to Deku in front of all of 1-A, did Kirishima and the rest of the class ever wonder, what exact actions warranted such a gesture from someone as proud as Bakugou?

[ripplestitchskein]

Got my red string in hand and my wall of photos to possible suspects and Blitz right at the center. I was just thinking about Blitz’s line from Full Moon and his anger at royalty and where it comes from like several of us have been rolling around in our brains since he said it. I see three possibilities:

A Royal Ex:

Blitz has yet another famous ex, this one some form of royalty or Sin. A few of us have talked about the possibility he was really hurt by another famous royal. I am definitely on board with that to a point but I’m not yet 100% sold on it. And Andrelphus is really the only character we know right now that is a possibility in my eyes. We haven’t met Vassago so he is still in play as well.

It’s not Mammon, it’s not Ozzie, it’s not Bee, and it’s def not Stella. These are the higher up people we’ve met in HB so far with no indication in their scenes it goes deeper than that? For Ozzie, Mammon, Bee and Stella Blitz has met and interacted all of them and it was never hinted at or mentioned, no uncomfortable looks, no conversational cues or dialogue that reflects he knew them any deeper than what we see in their shared scenes. And no way he wouldn’t have rubbed it in more if it was Stella.

Vassago is a potential but Viv said he was a good boy (and oddly I believe her so I’ve been adjusting my theories accordingly, maybe I’m stupid for that lol) so holding onto that it could be that Vassago was a proto-Stolas, they dated and Blitz assumed the same things he’s doing with Stolas, but then my brain says “If this demon is the source of the hurt that drives Blitz’s actions with Stolas now, then why would they be an issue then?” If the hurt was created by Vassago then Blitz wouldn’t have the same baggage and hangups to ruin that relationship in the same way. So either Vassago was a dick who hurt Blitz bad enough he feels this way to this degree now, and is not in fact, a good boy, or it was another misunderstanding, which feels redundant and not potentially serious enough to warrant this level of reaction and trauma (not that trauma has a threshold of hurt you must meet but in media you have to be hyperbolic and dramatic to translate magnitude to the audience) so I lean away from him. There is some good potential there but I also think I would kinda hate it unless it was done super well.

Andrelphus is the most likely option for this possibility. He and Blitz have not met on screen, he is a known character with ties to Stolas. But like the other characters we know I feel like we’d have some hint of it beyond this line in Full Moon? Mostly because we’ve been setting up Andrelphus and Stella as a threat for awhile and establishing a second connection with them to Blitz without any prior setup after the breakup feels weird to me from a writing perspective. It just doesn’t quite fit with how this show handles dropping hints and foreshadowing. If it was Andrelphus I just feel like we’d have a few little background things tying him to Blitz, even something subtle like uses of ice motifs in backgrounds, or dialogue that hinted at a royal ex before Full Moon, especially one so closely tied to Stolas and so reflective of the issues in their relationship. It could be Blitz doesn’t realize Stolas and Andrelphus are connected but I just find that hard to believe at this point. It would be a tough sell for me writing wise and would feel more “Ha, what a twist”. It wouldn’t feel earned.

A Class Divide

Blitz was speaking in general on behalf of imps, it’s personal in the way marginalization is always personal. It’s not about one specific encounter with one specific person but a lifetime of encounters and micro aggressions. It’s less about a specific incident and more about the current class hierarchy especially given their conversation in Apology Tour was meant to echo Striker, to show that Striker’s feelings and his concerns aren’t wrong, his hurt came from a real place that all Imps experience, he is just expressing that hurt in violent ways. I dislike this neo-liberal framing that violence is not an answer to oppression, sometimes violence is the only recourse a marginalized group has, and I would especially hate that in a queer show. Unfortunately that is the prevalent position in media and political discourse, just look at reactions to protest movements. I don’t agree that Striker’s actions are necessarily justified, vigilantism is a rough and complex topic, but the show seems to frame his actions as decidedly negative. This is a hard one to explain fully in just a few words so I’ll leave it at this and delve into it more in a post about class dynamics. Basically, it could be Blitz isn’t talking about a specific personal hurt but furthering the idea that Striker and Blitz are on the same side with different approaches and outcomes.

Barbie Wire

This is my current favorite. What if the royals fucking with imps isn’t even a reference to himself but to Barbie? If Barbie was involved with royalty and was hurt by them, and Blitz’s interference and attempt at protection led to their current estrangement it would make sense for him to be this upset about it and take it out on Stolas. A royal ruined his sister’s life and as a result made her hate him. I think we established that Barbie and Blitz worked together for a time after the fire? I’m not 100% on that but I thought there was some hint to that in the background posters at some point? For some reason I have it in my head that they did not split immediately after the fire or as a direct result of it, their split came after.

But I can def see a scenario where Barbie gets involved with a powerful person, a person who encourages her substance abuse, who maybe was the source of it from an enabling point of view. It could be a patron of one of thier shows, taking advantage of the performer they paid for, luring her in with drugs and parties. Blitz, well meaning, tries to get her away from it, maybe he knows the true nature of this royal and confronts them, the royal drops Barbie leaving her an addicted mess and they lose their livelihood at the same time. And Barbie blames Blitz for the ruin of it, even if he had only the best of intentions. She might not know the whole story, or as is sometimes the case, really loved this person even though they did not have good intentions and she refuses to see that it was the best thing for her.

There’s enough baggage between them from the fire alone but this would add another really interesting layer. It would be a fresher way to emphasize hurt than adding to the cadre of Blitz Exes. If there is a shadowy evil royal this is my preferred scenario for it.