#lil sprinkle of angst

[the-ragingenby]

erasermic is eating my brain :,)

(Also still taking requests/prompts for fanfics, by the way. I’m totally not running out of ideas or anything…that’d be crazy…)

Edit: AO3 Crosspost

SHIT I FORGOT

MY HERO ACADEMIA ANIME SPOILERS (SEASON 6) RAHH

You Worry Me

Hizashi bit back a laugh as Nemuri and Sekijiro started going at each other again. It’s become a somewhat regular occurrence in the teacher’s lounge, with Sekijiro being snappy and Nemuri returning his quips with even more enthusiasm. “Is there really a need for you guys to do this every day?” Toshinori sighed, though even he had a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“What can I say? He’s a bum. Totally deserves it.” Nemuri snickered, dodging gracefully when Sekijiro made to give her a playful smack. 

Hazashi pressed his hands to his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles. Although things were looking bleak a few weeks ago, I can always count on these guys to make me laugh. It still hurts…but I think it’s manageable now.

Everyone froze when the teacher’s lounge door swung open suddenly, revealing an exhausted Aizawa. He barely spared anyone a glance, purposefully turning his back to them and making himself a cup of coffee. After a few more moments of tense silence, Toshinori, the ever helpful, spoke. “Good afternoon, Aizawa.” His cheeriness sounded forced, even to Hizashi, but the older man pressed on regardless. “How have classes been going?” 

Aizawa didn’t reply for a while, taking a long sip from his coffee. “Fine.” He answered flatly. His usual sass was nowhere to be found. Nemuri frowned, looking just as worried as Hizashi felt. It’s been over a week now, and Aizawa hasn’t spoken so much as a word to him. Now how the hell is that possible when we’re roommates? He was frustrated, but he really didn’t know what to do. He’s even been purposely timing his arrival home so he doesn’t have to see me. It hurts…just a little.

Toshinori nervously cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, that’s good.” He smiled at Aizawa, who finally turned and met it with the dead expression that seemed like it was permanently etched onto his face. Aizawa gave him a halfhearted glare before slipping from the room, mug still clutched in his hand. 

“What the hell was that?” Nemuri growled, whipping around to point accusingly at Hizashi. “I bet you pissed him off or something.”

“Hey, I’ve got nothing to do with that! He hasn’t even spoken to me for at least a week now.” Hizashi was quick to defend himself. “I’ve tried asking, but he won’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

“If he’s not talking to Mic, something’s definitely up.” Sekijiro huffed out. “Honestly, he looks like death.” 

“Thanks for the keen observations, Vlad.” Nemuri rolled her eyes. She made her way over to Hizashi, whispering in his ear. “My best advice, corner him when you guys get home. If he’s not talking to you here, there’s no way he can avoid you at home. Use the cat for leverage.” 

“You think that’ll work?” Hizashi asked blandly, already doubtful. Using our own cat against him. It’s so evil that I almost wish I’d thought of it first. 

“Have you really got a choice right now?” Fair point. With a sigh, Hizashi nodded. 

“Alright, alright. But if things get worse, I’m blaming you.” At that, Nemuri smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Thank me later.” 

“Do I smell secrets?” Snipe eyed the pair from the other side of the room. “How amusing.” 

“It’s like they think we won’t find out.” Sekijiro sniffed, turning away. “Not that I’m curious or anything.” 

“Right. And you don’t have overgrown chompers either.” Nemuri teased, leaving Hizashi to mess with the Blood Hero again. 

“You dissing my teeth, Midnight?” Sekijiro growled, curling his lip in mock anger. Nemuri just stuck out her tongue at him, darting away when he began to chase her. 

Toshinori shook his head. “Those two…” 

~

Back at home, Hizashi waited patiently for Aizawa to arrive. Okay, so maybe patiently was a bit of a stretch. Being perfectly honest, he was anxious. He didn’t want to feel this way, he practically never feels this way, but with Aizawa, things are different.

He had long since changed out of his hero costume, and was now comfortable in his loungewear. Hizashi also made the executive decision to let his hair down, since he didn’t intend to go out again for the rest of the day.

With a sigh, Hizashi leaned back against the couch, allowing Mochi to clamber into his lap, purring loudly. “I know, Mochi. Aizawa’s been in a crummy mood. But you’re gonna help me cheer him up, right?” Mochi blinked up at him, her green eyes wide. After a moment, she let out a soft mrow of acknowledgement. “I knew you’d understand.”

It had been less than an hour, and Hizashi found himself lightly dozing when Aizawa returned, leaving his boots and capture weapon by the door. Mochi flicked Hizashi with her tail, startling him out of his gentle slumber. “Mochi, you jerk, I know you did that on purpose.” Hizashi paused, looking up at Aizawa. 

The long-haired man looked a little worse for wear and more exhausted than usual. Mochi twitched her ears, eyeing him before turning back to Hizashi. “Uh…welcome back.” Hizashi murmured, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself. 

Aizawa hesitated, fixing his gaze on Mochi’s black-and-white form in Hizashi’s lap. “You’re a real traitor, cat.” He huffed out, his voice holding just the slightest hint of a rasp. Hizashi lifted Mochi gently, waving her little paws in the air. 

“She said she’ll cuddle you if you talk to me.” He chided. Aizawa finally met his eyes, just for a brief moment, before turning away. “Come onnnn. Please? How can you say no to this sweet little angel?”

“Are you talking about yourself or the cat?” Aizawa finally gritted out, a hint of his usual self shining through his suddenly, and quite unnecessarily, rough exterior. Hizashi couldn’t help but smile. 

“You wanna come over here for a bit?” Hizashi patted the empty cushion beside him, staring hopefully at Aizawa. Aizawa looked conflicted, eyes darting to focus on everything except Hizashi. He frowned as Aizawa started inching away towards his bedroom. “Aizawa. We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” 

“I’m good.” 

“Shouta.” Hizashi said firmly. He almost surprises himself with just how serious he can sound sometimes. Aizawa froze. Hizashi almost never uses his serious voice on him and he very rarely calls him Shouta. After a moment of deliberation, Aizawa reluctantly sits down on the couch, close enough to steal Mochi away but still keeping a respectful distance. 

“Happy now, cat?” Aizawa sighed, letting her butt her head against his hand. She shook her head, purring ceasing as she glanced over at Hizashi. “You’re so expressive that sometimes I forget you’re a cat.” With a shake of his head, he meets Hizashi’s eyes once more. “So what is it you want?”

Hizashi frowned. “What’s been going on, Aizawa? Seriously. I’ve hardly seen you eat a thing and you don’t want to talk to me.” Hizashi drew in a shaky breath. “Did I do something wrong? Because if I did, I’m sorry. You know I’d never want to hurt you on purpose. I don’t want to hurt you at all.” 

Aizawa stayed quiet, gently stroking the cat that perched precariously in his lap. “No.” He cleared his throat a little. “It’s my fault. I just–” Aizawa bowed his head, hiding his eyes with his shaggy hair. “After everything that’s happened, I just feel so useless. And I’ve been taking you for granted. I was just afraid that I’d lose you too. Everyone I get close to ends up dead and I–”

Aizawa cut himself off with a quiet sob. Hizashi pulled Aizawa into a tight hug, careful not to squish Mochi in the process. “Shouta, I didn’t know…” Hizashi murmured, carefully running his fingers through Aizawa’s hair to try and comfort him. “But I’m not going anywhere. Promised that a long time ago.”

Aizawa nodded, still hiding his tears from Hizashi the best he could. “...Okay.” He whispered after a long moment. Hizashi smiled, planting a sneaky kiss on Aizawa’s head. Aizawa let out an annoyed huff, but he didn’t move away. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for, Shouta. We’ll work through it, together. Alright?” Aizawa bobbed his head in another nod, pressing himself against Hizashi and making himself more comfortable. Mochi splayed herself out across their laps, thoroughly pleased. 

~

Hizashhi glared at Dr. Kyudai Garaki through his now cracked sunglasses, keeping him firmly by his side. The bastard had revived Shigaraki and now Hizashi had to stop him from doing anything else that might cost the Pros this battle. 

Aizawa had run off to support the others by canceling the multiple quirks those Nomu had. Hizashi felt a swirling feeling in his gut that he could only describe as anxiousness. Explosions and shouts surrounded him, and he almost wished he could go and help Aizawa and the others, but he had a job to do. 

“Present Mic, over here!” Hizashi looked up, sagging with relief as the police arrived to take the doctor into custody. Grabbing the doctor with both arms, he hauled him over to their armored vehicle, pointedly ignoring all the nonsense spewing from the guy’s mouth.

He spent what felt like eons giving them a statement before dropping the doctor off in their capable hands. Now that that’s done, I gotta go help everyone else. Hizashi raced away, heading towards where the explosions were now dying down. 

When he arrived at the battlefield, Shigaraki was nowhere to be found. “Manual!” Hizashi called out, heading over to the hero. “What’s happening?” Upon seeing Hizashi, Masaki winced. 

“Well, Shigaraki got away. There was only so much we could do.” He explained, looking away. “Eraser and Endeavor did their best, but…”

“Where’s Eraser…?” Hizashi asked after a moment. Masaki shook his head. 

“He sustained some terrible wounds, but he still fought hard to protect the work study students. Those kids are lucky.” Masaki frowned. “I did my best. But they took him to the hospital. Last I saw him, he was unconscious.”

Hizashi froze, growing tense. “Do you know where they took him?” He asked. Masaki nodded. 

“The hospital in the next town over. You can’t miss it. I think it’s the biggest one in town.” Hisashi nodded, thanking him before moving to figure out how to get to him as fast as possible, all without breaking too many laws.

~

Hizashi burst into the hospital, eyes wide with worry. “I need to see Aizawa Shouta.” He said as he approached the front desk. A lady looked up at him through her glasses, looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Are you his husband? Only family members are allowed to see him right now.” She sighed. 

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Hizashi was quick to agree. Although it wasn’t true, per say, he just had to see Aizawa, damn it. She sighed again and gave him to room number, belatedly reminding him not to run in the halls as he darted off.

When he came to Aizawa’s room, he let out a quiet gasp at the sight. Aizawa was laid on the hospital bed, head bandaged and his leg was…missing? “What…happened to you, Shouta?” Hizashi breathed, pulling a small chair closer to the bed. 

He carefully took Aizawa’s uninjured hand into his own, holding it like he may never see the man again. Hizashi let out a soft breath, pressing his forward against Aizawa’s hand. “Damn it, Shouta.” Hizashi gritted out. “You…worry me.”

[yayll]

Could you maybe write smth up. About literally spoiling Dazai. Because i want to sit him down on the couch and kiss his pretty fucking face and buy him everything he even glances at.!! Hold his hand on walks, take him to like roooftops to stargaze and stuff and just stare at his PRETTY AHH FACE instead. Kiss his forehead goodnight!!! Cook him stuff and cuddle him and kiss him (again)!!!!....

Im lonely and past the point of no return sorry shdkhdkfjf

HIIII there, angel! i'm so sorry this took me a bit, but umm... i kind of went insane with this concept i read your ask and i immediately just blacked out because oh do i feel the same way about this god forsaken man.. and HEAVY on the spoiling. ahh, i hope it's to your liking, and i hope it makes u feel less lonely :') it was such a pleasure to write my first request xx

~ a little something about cherishing Dazai on days he needs it the most ~

Spoiling Dazai. Now there's something you can proudly admit to being happily guilty of. You couldn't count the times you've held him for hours after a terrible day at work, or made sure he had more than just canned crab and a few bottles of Sake. You'd do anything for him to be comfortable in his own skin, and you want to make sure he knows how much you adore him... that he knows he's allowed to take up space in the world too. You're also aware that he would rather die than to ever elaborate on the vague and dismissive little comments he makes about the debilitating weight of all of his past mistakes, the ones that make him resentful and tired when it really gets to him, but that never deters you.

You've put the pieces together long enough to understand that it's not easy being Osamu Dazai, no matter what silly mask he puts on for the world. He hasn't always been a good person, an exemplary man, and you're more than well aware of that. Still, he doesn't have to be the jester who's always entertaining the masses at his own expense.

You remind him that he isn't cursed forever, that he IS worthy of flesh and blood, and when you kiss him it's like you're absolving him of all sins... you make him new again. He is utterly bewitched by you and you feel it in the way he comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder, squeezing your waist just enough to let you know your warmth is the reason his own blood circulates. Or when he whispers the most silliest and unhinged things in your ear late at night so you'll curl up those precious lips into a smile... Just for him. He gets off on the happiness he gives you, simple as that. He already feels he doesn't deserve to hold on to such a good life, but he's nothing if not defiant, and he'll squeeze out every little bit of love within that void of a heart for as long as you'll have him.

But... Today is your turn to love him so much it actually hurts, It's what he gets for being a menace 24/7! That is why you chose to make sure he has an extra special day today, by bringing him out of his comfort zone with a... mystery date!

"Oh? And to what do I owe the pleasure of being courted by such a beautiful creature such as yourself on this fine day?"

Dazai sips on his tea, eyes narrowing as they peer at you from the teacup curiously. You flash him a cheeky grin, already plotting your mission to make him so flustered he can't even look at you later.

"I thought we could go out somewhere and spend some time outside... Since we've both been so busy lately. Wouldn't that be nice?"

He raises a brow, and gives you a knowing smile back. Dazai's freakishly omnipotent in that way, and it's one of the many reasons you can never truly know if your surprises land or not.

"Mmm, it could be. Where to, my love?"

"... It's a secret."

He then pretends something has hit his chest, and he grips it, dramatically throwing himself back onto the chair causing his tea to flop about in the teacup.

"Oh my, is today the day you finally take me out and end it all?! I don't know if I can take the deceit, the absolute betrayal... What an occasion-"

You cut him off with your index finger as you place it right on his lips, zipped tight and his eyes burn into you, waiting for your next words. He eats this shit up.

"Shush! Let's go."

And with that, you grab your coats and zoom out and into the day. It's one of those days where It's cloudy, but the sun still peaks out just enough to send down warm rays of light. As you walk hand in hand, you see the way those very rays hit Dazai's side profile in the most devastating way.

You want to take a photo but you don't want to ruin the moment, so you quickly tip toe and peck him on the cheek, causing him to abruptly stop in his tracks. He blinks for a few seconds, still facing forward, and you swear you can see the highs of his cheeks turn red. You end up tugging him to follow you to the park, smiling to yourself in triumph as he recovers.

You walk to a quiet part, and plop yourselves down next to each other on the soft grass. Still holding hands, you rub your thumb in circles over his bandaged fingers, silently looking up at the cloudy sky. Finally, Dazai is the one to break the silence.

"Love used to always be an empty four letter word to me, but you..."

He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard as he tries to feign composure.

"... You are, by far, my greatest love, and my most beloved weakness altogether."

You were supposed to be the one to sweep him off his feet today, now your vision is blurry and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You slowly sit up, and look down at him, noticing that his eyes are closed. He looks like a sleeping beauty. Your chest aches, and you wonder if this is the same type of ache he lives with on the daily. You murmur, studying the way his messy bangs frame his face, and his expression unreadable.

"That's not fair, Osamu..."

"You sound so pretty when you say it like that... Osamu."

You swallow hard, and curse him in your mind for being the man that he is. For being all you've ever yearned for. You look down at your watch, and check the time, heart beating wildly.

Thump, Thump, Thump.

"... It's fifteen till 5."

"Mm, why does that matter?" Dazai purrs as he squeezes your hand, eyes still closed.

"It always matters. Any time with you matters. You matter, Osamu."

You spend the rest of the evening nuzzled into one another, whispering secrets and trying to name constellations and giggling when you can't figure them out. He lets you kiss him silly, his eyes closed the entire time while you also toy with his hair and the nape of his neck; where you smooth over the soft fabric of his bandages and his skin, giving him goosebumps. Your touch is a sensory heaven. He's dreaming of you while awake. You'll always wake him up from the nightmares, from what cannot be undone.

When it gets too cold to stay out, you head back home and cook him whatever he asks for as he rests his chin on his palm, gazing at you with those unreadable dark eyes... always thinking too much. Always somewhere else. This time, however, you could tell he was present. He would eat sewage if you poured it for him with that loving manner of yours. You finally crawl into bed together, and Dazai cradles your face in between his hands, facing you. He mumbles, so soft.. so tender. It's a tone only you get to hear.

"It really is selfish of me to think I can have this and more."

"Desire isn't bad, Osamu."

"Mm, no, I suppose not. But it's not always wise to have desire, not for someone like me. I can't afford that."

You hear the genuine ache in his voice, and you lean in to kiss his forehead, a gentle kiss that stays planted for a few seconds before you pull back.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing, love?~" He whispers, his voice a little strained as he looks at you with those eyes, those beautiful and endless orbs of cosmic proportions that are going to consume you one day. Hopefully.

"I think so. I'm being selfish."

You smile faintly, and you proceed to make sure that you end the night the way he deserves, the way you wanted to spoil him.

[blasvemous]

Eddie is sick...

(first time I've written something, not sure if it will become a regular occurrence or not but, I hope its got a good mouth feel for ya)

AO3

Steve and Robin were in the middle of a heated debate over what movie they were going to watch tonight when the apartment door slammed open, rattling the poorly hung picture frames on the wall.

Steve immediately moved into a defensive position as Robin grabbed the closest thing to her that could be used as a weapon. They crept down the hallway, ready to pounce on whomever, or whatever had barged into their haven.

They heard the intruder before they saw them. Quiet grumbles and groans came from the entryway; the sounds of items being tossed about and the door being thrown shut. Steve and Robin only relaxed once they recognized the voice rounding the corner.

Eddie chucked his shoes into the corner, pointedly ignoring the shoe rack that Steve had put by the door. He kicked the door shut and trudged down the hall, prepared to shower and collapse in bed, when he saw two dark figures watching him in the darkened doorway. He let out a small shriek as he lunged for the light switch.

Before him now illuminated by the weak overhead light was Steve, phone receiver in hand raised and ready to strike; behind him was Robin, with a deadly look in her eye, holding a plastic ladle like it was a baseball bat. 

Eddie began to laugh at the ridiculous sight when he was cut short by Robin tossing the ladle at his head.

“Hey! What was that for?” he grumbled as he rubbed the sore spot on his head.

“You know you can’t just barge in like that!” Robin practically screamed at him. Steve moved forward to check Eddie’s head, “We didn’t know it was you! We could’ve hurt you!” Steve said as he went to lock the front door and check for any damage to the cheap plywood structure.

Eddie puffed his chest up, “Well I’ll have you know, I’ve received terrible news, that which has left me in a dreadful mood, I fear that you have only exacerbated the issue with your large spoon throwing!”. Steve rolled his eyes and met Robin’s equally amused stare.

“It’s a ladle, not a spoon,” said with all the bitchiness Steve could muster. 

Of course, Steve would know the particular cookware vernacular. 

Eddie, seething with annoyance, prepared his retort.

“Well you would know, wouldn’t you?” He shoved passed the two of them moving to collapse on the couch in a dramatic flourish.

“The hell does that mean?” Steve said as he tossed his hands in the air. He looked at Robin, gesturing at the metalhead who has now become one with the old musty couch.

"Can you believe this?” Steve looked to Robin for a response. She shook her head and released a small sigh, as she shoved Eddie over so she could sit.

“What’s the bad news Eddie?” Robin tried to be comforting in case it was a serious situation but kept a healthy amount of suspicion in her mind since it was Eddie after all.

Eddie half-heartedly rolled over. “I dare not say it aloud, for fear may consume me whole”, his lip quivered as he spoke. He doesn’t know if it was the trembling lip or the small strangled noise he made that softened Steve up, but here he was leaning over Eddie with concern all over his face.

“What’s going on? Is it code red?” Steve glanced toward the counter where the walkie was placed, panic overtook his tense frame. Before he could move to grab it, Eddie was grabbing his wrist, yanking him away. Steve crouched down, petting Eddie's hair and making concerned eye contact with Robin.

Eddie cleared his throat before he spoke, “‘Fraid not Steve-O. It's far worse!” He moved his hand to dramatically drape it across his forehead. Robin grabbed his hand to look him in the eye.

“I need you to cut the drama act and tell me what's going on,” she said frantically. “Like on a scale of failing senior year again” (“Hey!”) “To Vecna zombies, what are we talkin’?” She spits the last sentence out like it was demobat flesh.

Eddie looked toward Steve ready to crack another joke, but the damn Ken doll of a man was rooting through the closet pulling out the emergency bags and his bat. 

Shit, shit, shit.

Eddie sat up quickly, jostling Robin who was manically chewing her nails, eyes flicking between the two men like she was trying to decide which fire to put out first. 

Before Eddie could even get a word out, Robin tackled him to the floor. She began shaking his shoulders. “Just tell us what’s happening!! I can’t take it anymore!” She managed to yell out between her shaking assault on Eddie's shoulders.

Eddie squawked, trying to wriggle out from under Robin. “Steve! Are you just gonna stand by while she gives me shakin’ Eddie syndrome?!” Man, Robin was stronger than she looked.

Steve took one look over his shoulder and dropped everything, deeming Robs the more dangerous threat. The frazzled metalhead grinned up at his personal knight in shining armor, well at least until Steve joined in on the Eddie abuse.

With Robin violently shaking him by the shoulders and Steve manhandling his face like a stress ball, Eddie was preparing for his imminent death.

“Eds, I need you to tell us what's wrong or else I’m grabbing the walkie and radioing the whole party. So, you can tell us or you can tell the six children with severe PTSD reactions.” Steve spoke with a deadly calm that rattled Robin enough to stop her assault. 

Eddie swallowed, trying to digest the threat without choking. ”Fine, fine. I surrender! Release me!” he gasps, attempting to catch the breath that was punched out of him the moment he was shoved to the floor.

Without Robin’s steel grip on his shoulders, he was able to squirm out from under her and escape the two beasts he calls ‘friends’. Eddie stands, attempting to smooth out his hair; across from him, the shining twins stood, arms crossed and hips popped out in motherly disapproval. 

Steve’s expression held a sternness that was rivaled only by Robin’s next to him. 

Never one for a moment of silence, Robin spoke first. “Eddie. Tell us what’s happening. Now”. The air seemed to thicken in the room; Eddie’s skin felt itchy and uncomfortable. The tension was nauseating, he knew he was in trouble, and he was uncertain if he could peacock his way through this.

Rubbing his hands over his face and groaning, he falls on the couch once again. “Ok, ok, I’m sorry.” Eddie’s face was grim and cold, lacking the sunshine he normally exudes. “I got diagnosed with something, but before you start worrying, it's not contagious like that. So, you guys are safe and all…” He took a deep breath in, “But if you want me to move out, I get it. I don’t want to make either of you uncomfortable”. 

Steve’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears; Robin’s lip is quivering as she blinks rapidly. They both miss the small spark of mischief that flickers in Eddie’s eyes. Before Eddie can even come clean and get to the punch line, they pull him up and wrap him up in a suffocating hug. His face shoved into the warmth of Steve’s chest and his side compressed against Robin. Both their arms were like vise grips around him, locking Eddie in place. 

Eddie was quiet, not for a lack of words, but a lack of air; he couldn’t fucking breathe. Robin loosened her grip and Eddie gasped for air as she tried to speak through sniffles. “We love you Eds. Of course we don’t want you to move!” Steve nodded vigorously in agreement, “Yeah we want to support you, man. This is scary, but we’ve handled scary before”. 

Steve pulled him close for one more squeeze before letting him go, Robin still clung to his side. She pulled back a bit before she said, “Did you really think we would let you deal with this alone? You’re our friend, Eddie”. Her voice was full of hurt and anxiety, Eddie wanted to soothe her and fix it. 

“Well, no I didn’t think that, bu-”

Steve interrupted, unable to let Eddie finish his thought. “Look I know what you’re going to say, but Eds, it could’ve been any of us! Your sexuality doesn’t make it your fault, ya know” Steve was earnest as he spoke, which made Eddie even more bewildered. 

What did his sexuality have to do with anything?

He stepped back, hoping the small distance would help bring clarity to the situation. “Ok, I think there’s been a mix up here, 'cause I’m lost” he holds up his hands in innocent surrender. Robin and Steve, the terrible twosome, stare back at him in equal confusion.

“You’re confused? I’m confused!” Robin throws her hands in the air, Steve stares blankly at the floor trying to puzzle out what the hell is happening. Robin spun on her heel, “Wait, Eddie, what were you diagnosed with?”. She had a gleam in her eye, she figured it out.

Eddie pulled his hair in front of his face, and shamefully flopped back onto the couch, shoving his face in between the cushions. 

“Mhmnngmhhn” his words too muffled to make out from under the mess of hair and old couch stuffing.

Robin exasperated, looks at Steve, tossing an awkward gesture in Eddie’s direction. Still confused, Steve leaned forward to pull the grumbling mop of hair out from the cushions. Eddie released a loud groan, squishing his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look at Steve’s concerned face. 

Steve squished Eddie's face in his hands and looked him in the eye to say, “Hey can you repeat that for me? I don’t speak couch.” Eddie’s mask of perpetual sorrow and shame broke for a moment to let out a small chuckle. Robin rolls her eyes and plops down next to Eddie, “We just wanna help” she says tentatively like she might scare him away. 

Shoving his head back into the couch crevasse, Eddie screams “I SAID… mnhngnmmh”.

A loud clap breaks through Eddie’s pitty fest and makes him sit upright. Steve is standing before him, hands on hips. “You’re killin’ us Eds. I’m calling the party.” 

He grabs the walkie, “Hey guys-” 

“I SAID I WAS DIAGNOSED WITH GIGANTICUS GENITALIUS!” Eddie’s face was red, the vein in his forehead ready to pop, panic and guilt in his eyes visible. Once the words leave his mouth he lets out a scream and tries to crawl underneath the couch, a space that obviously would not fit a grown man. In a whimper of failure, he falls back on the couch hiding his face behind Robin’s shoulder.

After an uncomfortable silence, he only peeks out when he feels Robin shaking next to him. She’s laughing, “She’s fucking laughing!” Eddie was angry, no wait, he was relieved? 

As he went through the 5 stages of grief, he spun around to look at Steve. Steve whose face is bright red and his eyes tearing up as he holds back hysterical giggles. And Eddie just stands there, baffled, as he watches his two friends collapse onto the floor in a cramp-inducing fit of laughter. Once the shock passed, Eddie fell apart and joined them on the floor, his bright smile and dimples out in full force. 

“Giganticus Genitalius”, Robin squealed in between hiccuping breaths of air. Eddie smacked her arm only for Steve to retaliate by giving him a vicious noogie. They spend way too long laying together on the floor, repeating the awful joke back and forth until their stomachs hurt from the laughter. 

“We thought you were dying!” Steve manages to choke out. Robin soberly sits up and looks at Eddie, “I thought we would have to have the safe sex talk again”. Her serious attitude was met with a pillow to the face and a screech that sounded a lot like Eddie saying “We said we would never speak of that again!”.

Once the laughter died down, and they were breathing hard, Steve spoke quietly. “Really, we’re glad you’re ok Munson”.

[calisomnia]

Why do Nia and Mal have better chemistry than MC and Mal👀👀

[leiawritesstories]

Next Thing You Know, part 1

inspired by the song "Next Thing You Know" by Jordan Davis

turns out, this fic got a little out of hand and took on a life of its own, so i'll be splitting it into probably two parts.

Word count: ~8.2k

Warnings: little bit of language, references to abuse in foster care, depictions of a car accident, minor character death, little bit of angst but otherwise it's pretty much all fluff

Enjoy!

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

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was eight years old when the moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house across from hers. 

The house had been empty for almost a year since the sweet older couple who’d lived there for decades had moved away to be closer to their children. When she was very little, Aelin had often spent time with Sam and Philippa, the couple who’d lived there, since both of her parents worked full time and she had to have somewhere to go after preschool. Philippa was very much like a grandmother to her, and she’d grown to love the older couple’s cozy house. After they moved away, though, Aelin had to come home after school, but she was old enough to stay home by herself for a little while until her mom or dad came back from work. 

So when the “For Sale” sign in front of the house changed to “Sold,” she could hardly contain her excitement at getting new neighbors. And when the silvery-haired couple climbed out of the SUV that parked next to the house, she all but pressed her nose to the window of her living room, eagerly waiting to see if the new neighbors were going to be like Philippa and Sam. 

To her surprise, despite their silvery hair, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn were only about her parents’ age. And they had a son who was a year older than her. 

His name was Rowan Whitethorn. 

Aelin and her parents went across the street that evening to say hello to their new neighbors, bringing a small welcome basket with them. She found herself a little bashful and stood close to her dad’s side as he knocked politely on the door. 

Mrs. Whitethorn opened the front door a moment later. “Hello!” 

“Hello,” Evalin grinned. “I’m Evalin Ashryver.”

“Enna Whitethorn.”  

“Rhoe Galathynius,” Rhoe introduced himself, offering his hand. “This is our daughter, Aelin.” 

“We’re across the street from you,” Evalin explained, “and we just wanted to stop by and offer you a little welcoming gift.” 

“Oh, how kind of you!” Enna exclaimed, accepting the basket. “Pyotr, darling, come say hi to our neighbors!” 

Pyotr Whitethorn came to the doorway a moment later, his son’s hand in his. “Pyotr Whitethorn. So lovely to meet you,” he smiled. “Rowan, kiddo, you want to say hi to our new neighbors?” 

The boy’s muffled voice mumbled a shy reply. 

Pyotr chuckled. “C’mere, son.” Moving aside, he gently nudged the boy forwards. “Say hi to Mr. Galathynius and Mrs. Ashryver, Rowan.” 

Rowan’s big, timid green eyes peered up at Rhoe and Evalin through the floppy, pale-blonde hair that fell over his forehead. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly. “My name is Rowan.”

“How old are you, Rowan?” Evalin asked gently, flicking a brief grin at Enna. 

“I’m nine.” 

“Well, isn’t that lovely!” Evalin turned to her daughter. “Fireheart, honey, he’s only a year older than you.” She stroked Aelin’s blonde hair. “Will you say hi to the Whitethorns?” 

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn,” Aelin said, her hand small but confident as she shook hands like her parents had. “My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I’m eight years old.”  

His hand on her shoulder, Rhoe subtly turned Aelin towards Rowan. “You should ask him if he’s going to your school, Fireheart,” he murmured. 

Aelin turned her eyes to Rowan, finding–to her mild surprise–that she was a little tiny bit taller than him. “Are you gonna go to Brannon Elementary?” 

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna be in fourth grade.” 

“I’m gonna be in third grade,” she replied. “We can walk to school together if you want, ’cause I know the secret way to get there.” 

Rowan’s eyes widened. “There’s a secret way?” 

“Yeah!” Aelin beamed. “Well, it’s kinda secret. Other kids know about it too. But just kids!” she promised, quick to defend the secrecy of the secret path. “No parents!” 

A small smile curved across Rowan’s face. “Back at my old house, we had a secret path in our backyard.” 

Aelin gasped. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” Rowan’s timidity faded away the more he talked to Aelin. “It went down to the creek and we called it Narnia.” 

Aelin’s mouth dropped open. “I love Narnia!” she exclaimed, clapping with excitement. “Did you read the books too?” 

Rowan nodded. “Mhmm. Well, my dad reads them to me.” 

Pyotr grinned fondly at his son. “And now you’ve found someone else who loves Narnia just as much as you do.” 

“We started reading the Narnia books to Aelin when she was six,” Evalin added. “She’s been in love with them ever since.” 

Watching the two children rapidly overcome their shyness and eagerly talk to each other, Enna beamed. “I think we’re going to be seeing our young ones in each other’s houses an awful lot.” 

She couldn’t have been more correct.

~

Rowan Whitethorn was screwed. Completely and utterly and in all ways screwed.

Well, all ways except the one in which he would have liked to be. 

Rowan Whitethorn was head over heels in love with his best friend, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and he didn’t know how to express it. 

And, of course, there was the very small matter of the guy she was dating. 

A guy who wasn’t him. 

Sometime over the summer, Aelin had gone out on a date with Chaol Westfall, a guy in her class. She’d come home wearing a small grin and had later informed Rowan–as best friends do–that she had said yes to going on another date. Which turned into another, and another, and eventually, she’d become Chaol Westfall’s girlfriend. 

Every time Rowan saw them together, he wanted to punch the shit out of Chaol. 

It was a strange feeling, really, because there was no legitimate reason for him to want to beat Chaol’s ass. Despite what Rowan irrationally feared, Chaol was a complete gentleman to Aelin, and she was always telling her parents how sweet he was to her. Any time he passed the two of them in the halls, Rowan couldn’t help but notice their linked hands, their shared smiles and laughter, their little happy bubble that made him irrationally, impossibly jealous. 

But Aelin was happy, so he forced his impossible jealousy down deep in his mind, burying it beneath a heap of happiness for his best friend. 

Until the day he came over to Aelin’s house for their usual Thursday night homework session and found her sitting alone at the kitchen table with a lost look on her face. 

He dropped his backpack and rushed to her side, stopping himself before he could do anything idiotic like–like kiss her. “Aelin? God, are you okay?!” 

She turned her head, meeting his worried eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shook her head, clearing the pensiveness from her face. “I…never mind, you wouldn’t really care.” 

“Ae.” Rowan dropped into the seat next to her and instinctively laid his hand over hers. “You’re my best friend, of course I care.” 

She sighed. “I broke up with Chaol.” 

He smothered the joy that swelled within him. “What? Why? Was he doing something bad to you? I swear to the gods, if he was hurting you, I–” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand. “Really, Ro. Thank you for…for asking, though.” She swallowed. “It’s just…no, never mind, it’s stupid.” 

“Ae, please.” 

She looked up, faltering, her usual brazen confidence nowhere in sight. “If…” She cleared her throat. “Rowan, if I tell you, will you promise not to laugh at me?” 

“Aelin,” Rowan breathed, squeezing her hands. “I will never, ever laugh when you tell me something this serious.” 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Ro, I broke up with Chaol because he, well–it wasn’t right. We didn’t have any spark, any fireworks, nothing magical–and I’m not being silly and shallow and overly romanticizing my life, Ro, I’m not that kind of girl–I just…gods, after almost a year, you’d think there would have been…something.” She sank backwards into the couch, her eyes going distant, misty. “I almost wonder if there’s something wrong, if–”

“No.” Rowan’s response was whip-quick. 

She blinked. “You sound so certain.” 

“I am certain.” His gaze, deep and calm as the forest, steadied her. “I am one hundred percent certain, Ae.” 

“You’re too good to me,” Aelin mumbled. “Ro, I just–it was almost a year and I felt…nothing. He checked all the boxes, he was a gentleman and he was sweet and he was never too cloying or too demanding or anything and I can’t help but wonder if my standards are too high?” She released a short, dry bark of a laugh. “Am I just fooling myself thinking I’ll ever find a real-life guy who makes me feel the way all the lead females in my favorite books do?” 

“Don’t ever feel like you need to lower your standards,” Rowan whispered. “So Chaol was everything you wanted except the…what did you call it, the spark?” 

“Yeah. Everything but the spark.” Her voice was faint. “Which I’m coming to realize really is just something from fantasy books that I was stupid to even expect in reality.” 

“Hey.” Before she could talk herself down any more, he leaned down to peer up into her downcast eyes. “You can and should expect real-life guys to treat you just as well as your favorite fantasy ladies get treated by their love interests.” 

She sniffled. “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re sorry I won’t let you beat Chaol’s face in.” 

“True,” he grumbled. 

A soft, watery chuckle. “You boys and your testosterone, always needing to beat each other up over the stupidest things.” 

Before he could really process what he was doing, Rowan wrapped his arms around Aelin, pulling her into his embrace. “Not being the right guy for you isn’t stupid, Ae.” 

She sniffled, leaning into his chest. “Maybe not. But still–you can’t beat him up, Ro. He didn’t hurt me, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” he promised, relishing the way she was letting him hold her. “Still not completely happy, though.” Because I could be everything for you, he added silently. 

Words he couldn’t–wouldn’t–say. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a long moment, lifting her head to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Ro.” 

“Anything,” he whispered, his lips quirking. “What else are best friends for?” 

~

Three years later, when Rowan unexpectedly ran into Aelin late at night at the University of Terrasen’s west campus gym, it was like time froze still, the frame stuck in a long lingering endless moment until he blinked and the clock restarted and he recognized her. 

~

During her sophomore year of college, Aelin made a vow. 

She may have been a little tipsy, may have been more than a little emotional, but a vow was still a vow, and she meant this one with all her being. 

No matter what may arise, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius swore she was staying single. 

There were…too many reasons why she couldn’t let anyone else into her life, into her home, into her heart. Beginning and ending with I’m still in love with my best friend even though I know he doesn’t reciprocate or he would have said something a long, long time ago. 

Not to mention, Sam Cortland. A name she’d sworn to put away, along with all the…memories that name inspired. 

She shook her head, clearing away the reminiscing, and tapped her student ID against the card reader of the west campus gym door, letting herself in. Since moving into an on-campus apartment with Lys and Elide, she’d grown fond of going to the west campus gym for her nightly workouts, finding it usually pretty empty at night. And she preferred an emptier gym–fewer people to potentially stare at her ass or her boobs or just flat-out ogle her while she worked out. Gods, it was like none of the gym-bros had ever seen a girl before. Though maybe that was true–they spent so much time in the gym, they probably didn’t see anyone other than the other gym rats. 

Music pumping through her headphones, Aelin focused her attention on her workout, tuning out her surroundings until she was walking on the treadmill as a cooldown, pretty damn exhausted but giddy with the serotonin rush that came from a good workout. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the door open and a figure step inside. Someone else who liked the west gym when it was emptier, apparently. Not really paying attention to who’d walked in, Aelin turned the treadmill down a notch, stretching her arms over her head as her body cooled off. 

It wasn’t until she climbed off the treadmill that she realized the guy who’d just entered hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Faintly concerned, she glanced over towards him. 

And time screeched to a halt. 

Her eyes widened in shock. “Rowan?” 

His hands shaking, Rowan Whitethorn carefully placed his water bottle down on the floor before he dropped it on his foot. “Aelin,” he breathed, just as stunned as her. 

She huffed an incredulous half-laugh. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, Ro, how are you?” 

“I…” He ran a hand through his messy, pale hair, the movement drawing her gaze to the tattoo flowing down his sculpted arm. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” 

Not what she’d been expecting. 

Despite the iron chains enveloping it, her heart fluttered. “We literally go to the same college, Ro.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but we’re in such different fields, and I live halfway across campus and have to deal with hockey and all that other fun stuff.” 

She chuckled. “Remind me again who was oh so elated to sign to UTerr?” 

“All right, you win,” he grumbled playfully. 

She flashed him a little grin. “Night, Ro.” 

“Hey.” He touched her shoulder before she headed out the door. “We should grab food or coffee sometime, it’d be…um, I mean–I want to catch up.” Was he…blushing?

“You’re cute when you blush,” she teased. 

His flush only deepened. “Please, Ae? I know I’m babbling like a freshman, but I–I’ve really missed you.” 

She couldn’t control the soft smile that broke across her face. “I’d love to. You have my number, text me when you’re available.” 

His “I will!” rang in her ears for the rest of the night, leaving her with a giddy little grin when she returned to her apartment. 

~

Sprawled on the couch with whatever show she was watching this week, Lysandra glanced up when her roommate came in. And smirked. “Well, well, someone met a hot guy at the gym.” 

“Shut up,” Aelin laughed, shrugging off her light jacket and hanging it in the hall closet. 

Lys paused her show and sat up, grinning like a fiend. “You did?!”

“No comment.” Smirking, Aelin made to head down to her room. 

“Oh hell no!” Lys caught her arm. “Details, babes. I need details!” 

“There aren’t any details,” Aelin chuckled. Lys arched a dark brow, folding her arms across her chest. “Really, darling. Nothing happened. It was just Rowan.” 

Lysandra’s jaw dropped so far so fast Aelin was half afraid it would break clean off. “JUST ROWAN?!” she squealed, gaping at her roommate. 

Aelin smothered a very satisfied grin. “Mhmm. What, is there something special about that?” 

“You tell me, babes,” Lys smirked, eagerly awaiting the details she craved. 

“Calm down, Lys,” Aelin laughed, heading down the hall towards her room. “We just ran into each other at the gym, it wasn’t like anything actually happened.” Not like I've dreamed that he kissed me like I’ve never been kissed or anything. 

“Boo!” Lys frowned. “C’mon, Ae, please tell me he at least said hi?” 

“Oh yeah, of course. We talked for a little bit, but he was coming to the gym when I was close to leaving, so we weren’t both there for too long.” 

“Boring!” 

Aelin flipped her roommate off over her shoulder, giggling at Lysandra’s screech of protest. “Told you there weren’t any details!” Well…perhaps one detail. She poked her head back out of her room, waiting until she heard her roommate grumbling to herself in the kitchen. “Oh, Lys, one thing?” 

“Yeah?” Lys stuck her head around the corner. “What?” 

“We might have a date for coffee in a few days.” Cackling like a madwoman, Aelin closed her door, cutting off Lysandra’s squeals of shock and excitement. 

“BITCH!” Lys shrieked, glee making her voice rise about three octaves. “You can’t just LEAVE like that!” 

Oh, but Aelin could. 

~

“Hey.” A small, warm grin curled Aelin’s lips as she opened the apartment door for Rowan. “I’m just about ready, you can come in while I grab my shoes.” 

“This is a really nice place,” Rowan commented, his own little crooked grin flitting across his face. “Not much you can do with a campus apartment, I know, but this feels like…like a home.” 

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Lys and Ells and I spent like three weeks decorating the place when we moved in.” 

He blinked. “Gods, that’s a, um, a long time?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Aelin chuckled, “but we pretend it’s normal.” 

“Bet all the home decorating stores in town just love you,” Rowan teased, taking a casual seat on the plush dark-blue sofa. 

“Back in a minute!” She disappeared down the hall, taking just a moment to pull on her ankle boots, fluff up her hair, and grab her small purse before heading back out. “I’m ready!” 

Rowan stood up, holding the door for her. “You look gorgeous,” he said softly, appreciatively glancing at her outfit. 

She flushed. “Thanks.” 

He led her out to his car, clicking the key fob to unlock the pickup’s doors. “Don’t tease, it’s a bit of a mess in here but I love this old hunk of rust.” 

She chuckled as she swung herself up into the cab. “Hunk of rust, huh? Then why don’t I see any rust anywhere, Ro?” 

“Cleaned it out just for today,” he beamed. 

She giggled. “You did not. I know you, Rowan Whitethorn–you can’t live with a dirty car.” 

“Fair enough,” he conceded, winking at her in the rearview mirror. And damn her, but that little gesture sent butterflies racing in her stomach. “So, coffee?”

“Please,” Aelin announced dramatically. “Me without caffeine is a sight you never want to see.” She flashed him a grin. “All right, the place I love is pretty close, but it’s also really popular and you might not be able to park in front. Just a warning.” 

“Damn weekend coffee drinkers,” Rowan grumbled playfully. “Thanks for the warning, Ae.” 

“Yeah, of course.” She directed him down the streets, pointing out the coffee shop as they drove past. Sure enough, the handful of parking spots by the building were already taken, so Rowan drove a few blocks down to the public parking lot and parked there. “Hope you don’t mind walking.” 

“On a day like this?” He shook his head. “Not at all.” 

They fell into step together, their hands completely coincidentally linking as they walked the short distance to the coffee shop, the building’s brick exterior slightly faded by decades of weather. Rowan pulled open the front door for Aelin, flashing her another of his little half-grins that made her belly do funny flips, and followed her inside, both of them deeply inhaling the warm, welcoming aroma of the place. 

“I come here all the time,” Aelin chuckled, waving quickly at one of the employees. 

“Obviously,” Rowan grinned. “Half the staff’s probably back there running around in a frenzy because that damn Galathynius girl is here to buy out their whole stock of pastries again.” 

“Rude!” She swatted his shoulder, lips puffing out into a dramatic, feigned pout. 

He just smirked. “Am I wrong?” 

“Shut it,” she muttered, poking him in the ribs. 

His soft, deep laugh rumbled against her back. “Don’t worry, Ae, I’ll get you a pastry. Even two. Three is a stretch, though.” 

“Such a gentleman,” she crooned. 

“Just trying to impress you enough to wheedle a second date.” 

“Ah, Ro.” She squeezed his hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this before you buy me food, but you don’t need to wheedle me with pastries.” She winked. “I was already planning to ask you for another date.” 

“Jumping to conclusions before the first date?” he teased. 

She swatted him again. “As if you hadn’t already envisioned the next three to five years in that lovely little brain of yours.” 

It was his turn to flush. 

She snickered and tugged him up to the counter. “C’mon, Ro, ready to order?” 

They ended up taking their drinks and two chocolate croissants over to a cozy little table by a window, which Aelin spotted and immediately claimed. Lucky to find one indoors, she joked, since it was so busy in the coffee shop. 

Rowan eyed her drink dubiously. “You sure that’s not going to kill you?”

She rolled her eyes, taking a languid sip. “It’s my usual order, Ro, of course it’s not going to harm me. Not all of us drink boring black coffee, you know.” 

“Menace,” he teased. “Not that I want to know, but…what in all things holy is that, Ae?” 

“Iced mocha with oat milk and a pump of hazelnut.” She rattled it off with practiced ease. “Oat milk because I’m lactose intolerant and dairy will not be kind to my apartment’s plumbing, and hazelnut because chocolate and hazelnut is the best combination ever created.” 

Rowan blinked rapidly, processing her order. “So, caffeine and sugar and more sugar?” 

“Exactly!” She beamed. 

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Here, have even more sugar, then, gods know I can’t control your eating habits.” 

“Glad you’re learning,” she laughed, accepting the plate. “And yes, you will be eating one of these.” 

“But I–”

“No but,” she interrupted. “Indulging yourself every once in a while doesn’t mean you’re abandoning your meal plan, Ro. And besides, Emrys would be horrified if he saw me bring someone who won’t eat pastries into his beloved coffee shop.” 

“All right, all right, I yield.” Rowan took his plate, cut the pastry in half, and took a bite, his eyes closing at the taste. “Gods, this is incredible!” 

“Told you so,” she smirked. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, pretending to look affronted. 

She snickered. “See? Drinking sad, boring black coffee does have negative side effects!” She bit into her own pastry, not even bothering to mute her soft, appreciative moan of delight. “Emrys, you are my favorite person.” 

“Ouch,” Rowan teased. “What a thing to say on a first date.” 

Aelin huffed a laugh. “So funny, aren’t you?” 

“It’s why you agreed to go out with me,” he grinned, giving her a theatrical dip of his head. 

“Mmm, yeah, me agreeing to go out with you had nothing to do with years of pining, not at all,” she deadpanned. 

He froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. 

Shit. 

Think before you speak, dammit! she berated herself, cheeks blooming bright pink. “Gods, I didn’t mean for that to just slip out, I’m–” 

“Years of pining?” he breathed, shakily setting his coffee down. “Aelin…Fireheart, I’ve been head over heels for you since we were kids or something.” 

It was her turn to muffle a gasp. “Are you…are you serious, Rowan?” 

“Completely.” He reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. “I can only say I’m sorry it took so damn long to admit it.” 

“Gods.” She laced her fingers with his, a smile brighter than the morning sun breaking across her face. “What took us so long?” 

“Gods only know,” he chuckled, his joy matching hers. “Gods only know.” 

~

They had a month until graduation. 

Aelin honestly didn’t know how the time had flown so fast. It seemed like just last week that she was a terrified freshman moving into the dorms for her first semester of college. She felt like she’d blinked and four years had flown by, like it had only been a day instead of just over a year since she and Rowan started dating. 

Which meant that it was now nearly two and a half years since the incident–the main reason she kept evading Rowan’s gentle urges that they move in together after graduation. 

The last time she’d moved in with her boyfriend, things hadn’t exactly gone according to their youthful dreams. 

“Fireheart.” Rowan trailed his fingers through Aelin’s loose hair, pleading with her to offer him some kind–any kind–of answer. “Please, Fireheart, I’m freaking out, did I say something wrong?” 

She raised her head slightly from its comfortable position in his lap. “No, buzzard, you didn’t say anything wrong, I promise. I just…” She closed her eyes, the memory almost too much. “Ro, I don’t know if I–if I can.” 

He shifted on the couch, moving so he was lying down with his head against the throw pillows she’d all but forced him to buy for his apartment, and settled her back against his chest, knowing how much the closeness calmed her. He didn’t say anything for a good long moment, spinning words around his mind until he finally figured out the phrasing. “I don’t want to pry, Fireheart, but you know how my mind is, and I’m imagining some fuckin’ terrible things right now.” 

Her hand rose up to curl against his jaw. “Ro, love, I promise I’m okay.” She sighed, long and soft. “I…I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything,” he murmured. 

The next words out of her mouth just about made his brain stall, though. 

“His name was Sam. Sam Cortland. And he…he’s dead.” 

Rowan felt the weight of those words, the heaviness of the sorrow woven into that name. He stayed quiet, giving Aelin time to form her thoughts, just holding her close and offering whatever wordless comfort he could give. 

She exhaled slowly. “I met Sam the first week of classes here, he was in a few of mine. Well, actually, I met Sam in middle school; I was one of the student leaders, so new students got to shadow me. He was all scared of his own shadow because his former foster dad beat him. I’ll get to that…later. We started talking pretty soon, and he asked me out before the end of September. And I, well, I really liked him. He was sweet and funny and made me laugh at his stupid jokes and stayed up with me whenever I needed company at two in the morning because I had an assignment due the next day. He had to stay in the dorms for that first semester like we all did, but he told me he was getting an apartment for the next semester, and he asked me if I wanted to live with him.”

“His foster dad what?” Muted violence laced Rowan’s tone. 

Aelin pursed her lips. “Arobynn Hamel was…a piece of fucking work. Somehow, he stayed in the foster system, but almost every time the agency gave him a kid, that kid transferred within six months. Sam was one of the only exceptions, and he, well, he told me it was because he was too damn terrified to say anything to the caseworker.” 

“That monster,” Rowan growled. 

“So violent.” Aelin traced her thumb along his jaw. “Arobynn’s been dead for two years, Ro, so your violence won’t get you anywhere.” She shook her head a bit. “Anyway. Sam finally got transferred when he was sixteen, and Philippa–his foster mom–is the most wonderful woman ever. Arobynn was not happy about the transfer, of course, and he spent an alarming amount of time basically stalking Sam. Which is why Sam came to UTerr. It’s so far from Rifthold that he knew he’d be safe, plus he was a legal adult and he could file for a restraining order, which he did.” Her eyes went distant. “Gods, we thought we were safe from that asshole.” 

“Thought?” 

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Sam and I moved into an apartment together for the second semester of our freshman year, and it was…really great, actually. I loved the independence of living off campus and feeling like a real adult, and I loved living with Sam. And we really thought we were safe from his horrific foster dad, we really did. Gods, we were so stupid. People like that–you can go to every extent of the law, and they’ll still defy it.” Tears clogged her throat now, choking her words. 

“Fireheart, don’t feel like you’re obligated to tell me,” Rowan murmured, smoothing his hand down her spine. 

Aelin sniffled. “I want you to know, Rowan.” 

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here, then.” 

She took another deep, steadying breath. “Not quite a month after the semester ended–we both decided to stay in the city and work for the summer, so we were still there–I got home from work late and Sam wasn’t home yet. It didn’t surprise me, I knew he usually worked evenings and his some of his coworkers were the ‘give all the sidework to the newest employee’ type, so I just went about my business like normal, expecting him to get home later.” She swallowed. “It was maybe ten or ten thirty when I started to get concerned. And we didn’t exactly live in the most pristine of neighborhoods; our place was low-cost but pretty clean, it’s not like we were in the worst part of town. But hearing road racing and finding the occasional drunk passed out on the sidewalk was…not uncommon.

I decided to go check on things a little after eleven. I locked up and headed downstairs, hoping I’d run into Sam on my way down. I didn’t. So I walked out of the building, headed down the street in the direction he’d be coming from, and I just…walked and waited and hoped. I convinced myself he’d just had a hectic shift and he’d be coming down the street at any minute, complaining about how much he hated working with these two servers because they always left early and made him do their sidework. Gods only know what time it was when I saw him coming down the street. He raised his hand to me, and I swear I could see the way his face lit up when he saw me. He checked the crosswalk, because he always did, he was that one person who’d always check for traffic even late at night when nobody was around, and started across the street to me.” 

Her whole body shuddered. 

“And then that godsdamned black car came screeching out of fucking nowhere and fucking slammed into him and just sped right the fuck on past like nothing had happened and I swear I hear the way his yell cut off in my nightmares.” Aelin sobbed, her body shaking, tears pouring down her face. “I don’t even remember what happened next–I was by his side, he was bleeding out all over the road, he was barely even alive, he–he just–he told me–” She broke off, burying her face in her hands, the salty heat of her tears soaking into Rowan’s shirt. 

Rowan wrapped his arms tighter around her, wishing he could take away her anguish. 

Her breath came shuddering out. “He told me to live. He–he could barely even whisper, I could see the way the light was leaving his eyes–and he told me, ‘You have to live, Aelin. Don’t just survive or exist. Live.’ I swear I felt like I was bleeding out right next to him.” She went quiet for a long moment, her tears steadily dripping into Rowan’s shirt. “Someone on the other side of the street got a picture of the car’s license plates and a short little video clip of the driver, and it was enough to identify the driver. And if you’re thinking of a certain Arobynn Hamel, you are correct. Bastard didn’t ever give a shit about the restraining order, he just wanted to get after the one man who had stories to tell the world about his cruelty in the foster system.” Aelin closed her eyes, breathing slowly. “The police arrested Arobynn maybe a week later for violating a restraining order, aggravated murder, vehicular homicide, and some other charges. He went to trial relatively fast, was found guilty on all counts, and got sentenced to life without possibility of parole. I was a witness, and gods, it might make me an awful human, but I felt so fucking vindicated when the judge pronounced the verdict.” 

“As you should,” Rowan mumbled. 

“Yeah.” Aelin wiped tears off her cheeks. “Just over two years ago, the news ran a little article mentioning that Mr. Arobynn Hamel, a convict in the state prison, had been found dead in his cell. They couldn’t find any evidence of who or what did it, but the coroner’s report mentioned that his autopsy indicated trace amounts of some pretty goddamn fatal drugs. And gods, it was the biggest load off my shoulders to hear that the filthy bastard was dead.” 

“As it should be.” Rowan’s voice was firm with conviction. 

She sniffled. “Really?” 

“Really.” He traced his thumb over the slope of her cheekbone. “He deserved it.” 

“Yeah he fucking did.” Aelin brushed the last stray tears from her face, moving so she could tuck her head into the crook of Rowan’s neck, meeting his soft gaze. “Stop looking at me like that, Ro.” 

“Like what?” He tucked a loose strand of hair away. “Like I love you and wish with everything I am that I could take away your pain?” 

The tiniest of smiles flickered across her lips. “Like that, yes.” 

He brushed a whisper-soft kiss against her forehead. “I’m so beyond sorry that all of…this happened to you, Fireheart. Hell, sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what I want to say.” 

“I know.” She cupped his face, her fingertips trailing across the tattoo that flicked along the side of his neck. “You don’t have to try and put it into words, my buzzard. I know.” 

Aelin fell asleep atop Rowan’s chest that night, curled close into his soothing warmth. When she awoke, still in his arms, she knew from the thrum of complete contentment that raced through her whole self that she wanted to spend forever with this man. 

~

Something was up. 

Aelin didn’t know exactly what it was, but lately, Rowan had been acting…weird. Anytime he was scrolling through his phone when she walked into the room, he’d inhale sharply and switch screens or just put down his phone entirely. Same with his laptop–he’d close tabs before she could see what on earth he was trying to hide. 

And if she was being honest, that worried her. 

What with her tendency to jump straight to the worst possible conclusions, Aelin was struggling to keep her imagination in check. No, Galathynius! she berated herself. Stop thinking about Rowan doing shady shit like that! Try as she might to force herself to think of happier things, her mind always found a way to slip in a sliver of uncertainty. 

Gods, she hoped she was wrong. 

“Fireheart, you okay?” Rowan’s hand rested atop her thigh, his brows wrinkling in concern. 

“Yeah.” Aelin blinked herself back into the present moment, flashing him a quick half-grin. “I’m just thinking, love.” 

“Mmm, having deep thoughts?” 

She poked his side. “Smartass.” 

“You love it.” 

“Right.” She winked wickedly. “I do love your smart ass.” 

He choked on his water, coughing deeply. “Aelin!” 

She snickered. “What?” 

“You’re a menace,” he grumbled, his cheeks flushing bright pink. 

She gave him a quick peck of a kiss. “I love you too, buzzard.” 

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “Remind me again why I let myself fall for all your little jokes?” 

“Because you love my little jokes,” she beamed. 

“I really do, love,” he agreed, chuckling. “Gods, I really do.” 

~

Rowan was in mild distress. 

Actually, he was in major distress, but he couldn’t just go around showing it, could he? He was a college graduate with a real adult job and a mortgage and a car and a girlfriend whom he loved more than life itself, a girlfriend to whom he was planning to propose. 

Hence the distress. 

He’d known pretty much since their first date in college that Aelin was the woman he wanted to marry, but he hadn’t wanted to rush into anything lest he destroy his dreams before they’d bloomed. So he waited, and he spent every possible moment with her, and he fell more and more in love with her each day they spent together. They had each moved into their own homes after graduation–Aelin leased a condo near the business district, conveniently close to her workplace, and Rowan signed the mortgage on his house using some of the funds he’d inherited from his stinking rich old auntie Maeve when she passed. Between his work schedule and her hectic work hours, they often went over to each other’s places to find nobody home, but they’d managed to carve out regular date nights and time together. 

About six months ago, Rowan had opened up a secondary savings account next to his main bank accounts. Into this second account, he deposited a small percent of each paycheck, watching the numbers climb steadily up until there was a decent-sized chunk of money in the account. 

Then, he started looking at engagement rings. 

He’d nearly had a heart attack the first time he opened a jeweler’s website and saw the price ranges and how those prices changed based on the metal and the jewels and the design. And he had been utterly lost among the pages and pages of seemingly infinite ring designs, each new website and webpage he looked at screaming advertisements at him. All he wanted was a ring that Aelin would love, not some gaudy, tacky statement piece. 

A few weeks ago, he’d deliberately come over to her condo before she got off work so he could quietly check her ring size. He knew there were a few rings she frequently wore but couldn’t wear at work and just about cheered when he saw one of them atop her dresser. Quickly, he placed the ring against the sizing guide he’d printed out, noting down what size it was. 

The next day, he’d taken Aelin’s ring size and a few photos of the kind of jewelry she usually wore into the jeweler’s shop near the building where he worked. 

When he walked in, probably a little wide-eyed and nervous, he’d been almost immediately greeted by a kind-faced older gentleman wearing a neatly pressed suit. “Good afternoon! How can I help you, sir?” 

Rowan’s breath whooshed out. “I, uh, I want to propose to my girlfriend but I have no idea what kind of ring to get.” 

“Wonderful.” The gentleman held out his hand. “You’ve come to the perfect place, then. My name is Malakai, and I’ve owned this palace for over thirty years.” 

“Wow.” Rowan gazed around the shop appreciatively. “That’s wonderful!” 

“Mmm, it’s nothing much.” Malakai waved him off. “I do it to see all the happy couples who come in here.” He led Rowan towards the back of the shop and gestured towards the simple table and chairs. “Have a seat, Mr…” 

“Gods, I’m so rude.” Rowan took a seat. “Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Rowan.” Malakai folded his hands atop the table. “Now, what were you thinking your girlfriend would like?” 

“I don’t know,” Rowan admitted. “I’ve spent weeks looking at pictures and ideas and hiding the evidence from her and I’m still stumped.” He placed the sizing guide and the few photos he’d brought along onto the table. “I do have a few things, though.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai looked at the sizing guide first. “Oh, you’ve found her ring size! That’s a perfect first step, it means you most likely won’t have to get a whole different size of the ring.” 

“Thank the gods,” Rowan huffed. 

Malakai chuckled. “What else have you brought?” 

“Just a few photos of the jewelry Aelin usually wears, I didn’t know if that would help at all.” 

“It does help.” Malakai looked over the photos. “Hmm…all right, we can work with this.” The creases around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Don’t worry, Rowan, it won’t be as terrible as you might be imagining.” 

“Good,” Rowan laughed. “So…help me out?” 

“Right.” Malakai grabbed a notepad and a pen. “From what I can tell, she typically wears white gold or silver jewelry, yes?” Rowan nodded. “Good. Then you will probably want to select a white gold or silver metal for the ring. The metals do look similar upon first glance, but white gold is one of our most popular materials, since it can work with both silver and gold jewelry.” 

“Right.” Rowan considered for a moment. “I trust your judgment, let’s go with the white gold.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai made a note on his page. “Now, the stone.” 

“Any stone?” 

“Any,” Malakai confirmed. “Most couples choose the diamond for the engagement ring, as I’m sure you know from looking at references, but any precious stone can be the centerpiece of a ring.” 

“Okay.” Rowan toyed with the band of his watch. “Well, here’s the thing. I guess I do kind of have more ideas than I thought, because I’ve…I’ve always dreamed of proposing with an emerald ring.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “See, it’s her birthstone and maybe her favorite and I gave her my grandmother’s emerald necklace for our first anniversary dating and I don’t know, I guess I just had the vision since then of giving her an emerald ring.” 

Malakai scribbled down some more notes, smiling softly. “That’s a beautiful vision–really, Rowan, it is. We can certainly go with the emerald.” 

“Perfect.” Rowan sat back in his chair. “Now what?” 

“Now,” Malakai grinned, “we work on the ring’s design.” 

Rowan went home that evening with his head spinning and a big bright grin on his face. After several hours spent with Malakai in the jewelry shop, the two of them going over potential designs and settings for Aelin’s ring until Rowan’s head was spinning, they’d finally settled on a few different designs, which Rowan had copies of. He would have to choose one design, yes, but just knowing that he nearly had a ring for the woman of his heart made him a thousand times happier. 

One step closer to asking her to be his forever. 

~

The midsummer evening faded slowly into night, the sunset’s pastel strokes bleeding into deep blues and violets flecked with silvery-bright sparks of stars. Aelin sighed contentedly from her position sprawled in Rowan’s lap, her head tucked against his shoulder and his arms around her bare waist, both of them a little salty and sandy from hours at the beach. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” she mumbled, tugging at his arms when he tried to stand. 

He chuckled softly. “Fireheart, don’t you want a bath?” 

She shook her head, her blonde braid rustling. “No, buzzard. I just want you.” 

Rowan swore up and down that he’d felt the hands of the gods themselves on his shoulder at that moment, as if they’d given him the perfect moment he’d been hoping for. “Ah, Fireheart,” he grinned, standing up despite her pretend protests and coming around in front of her. “I just want you, too.” Never once taking his eyes from hers, he lowered himself to one knee, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for the small velvet box he’d been carrying around for a month or so. “Aelin–Fireheart–will you marry me?” 

Aelin pressed her hands over her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed, dropping to her knees in the sand, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. “Yes, Rowan, yes, always and forever yes.” 

“I love you,” he whispered thickly, his throat clogged with unshed tears of his own as he took her hand in his and slipped the ring onto her finger. “To whatever end, my love.” 

“To whatever end, my buzzard,” she whispered back, flinging her arms around him and all but tackling him into the sand. Her fingers tangled into his wind-snarled hair, tipping his face up to hers as she pressed the sweetest kiss to his lips, all the years of her love for him poured out into the press of her slightly-salty lips. 

When she pulled away, both of them were grinning like fools, young and in love and so beyond elated to be there with each other on the beach, basking in the cocoon of their joy. 

They strolled slowly back to the hotel hand in hand, glancing over at each other and beaming like idiots every few seconds. Rowan’s thumb traced along the ring now adorning Aelin’s left hand, as if he could hardly believe it was real. Hell, she could hardly believe that it was real, that she was engaged to her best friend and dearest love, the man she’d dreamed of for years and years. 

And the ring was stunning–a teardrop-cut emerald surrounded by tiny emeralds in a lighter shade of green set atop a simple white-gold band. Inside the band, as Aelin discovered, were engraved the very words they’d exchanged that night and so many other times. 

To whatever end. 

~

“Yes, Mom, we sent out the invitations weeks ago.” Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her utmost to keep from throwing her phone at the wall. “We spent a whole day addressing all the envelopes, remember?” 

“Yes, I remember,” Evalin conceded. “I’m just going over the checklist I have and I needed to make sure the box had been checked off.” 

“Well, according to my copy of the list, we’re all the way up to collecting RSVPs and doing dress fittings. You don’t need to be so worried, Mom, you’ve got it all planned out.” 

“I know, honey.” Evalin paused. “I just…oh, Aelin, I want you to have the best day of your life, I really do, and–”

“And it won’t be any less beautiful if we don’t have the cake flavor picked out seven months in advance,” Aelin deadpanned. “Please, Mom, I’m stressed enough as it is.” 

Her mother sighed. “All right, then. And it’s only ten weeks until the date, but I won’t bother you so much. I’ll be at the dress shop for your and the bridesmaids’ final fittings next week, okay?” 

“Okay.” Aelin forced herself to put a smile in her voice. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Fireheart.” 

Aelin flung her phone onto her couch and groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her forehead. “Fuck!” 

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked, popping into the living room. “Are you okay?” 

She grumbled a string of unprintable words. “If everyone would stop breathing down my damn neck about this bloody massive wedding and all the bloody endless details, I would be.” 

Rowan came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Need to rant?” 

She leaned into his solid warmth, turning around so she could drop her head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat soothing her heated blood. “I don’t–gods, Ro, every time I turn around there’s someone else with some form to be signed or some deposit to be made or some other detail I need to think about and have a decision within two days. It’s getting to the point where I’m almost afraid to answer the phone when my mom calls, because I just know she’ll be waving her godsdamned list at me and banging on about how we’re so behind when I know we’re not and gods it’s just so much stress I don’t fucking need!” She was panting by the time she ended, tears misting her eyes. “I don’t know how to handle it, Ro.” 

“Oh, Fireheart,” he murmured, wishing there was some way for him to banish her stress. “Do you need me to handle your phone for you?” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “I wish. Gods, Rowan, why can’t we just run off and forget about all this huge glamorous wedding bullshit?” 

“Who says we can’t?” 

She blinked. “What?” 

He cupped one hand around her jaw. “Love, this ‘glamorous wedding bullshit’ is making your life hell. Who says we can’t just elope and not worry about it?” 

“Rowan…” Aelin cleared her throat. “What about how everyone’s gonna get mad? What about–”

“No.” He placed his fingertips over her lips. “Aelin, this is your day.” 

“Our day.” 

“Our day.” He kissed her softly. “We get to choose how we want to get married, my love. We can have a huge glamorous wedding that’ll make us both so stressed it won’t be a day to treasure, or we can have a little wedding by ourselves and be in love with the day.” 

She flicked a stray tear off her cheek. “You’re an old sap, buzzard.” 

“So…”

“Hell yes.” Aelin rose up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “I’m going to text Elide and pack some stuff. Let’s go get married, my love.”

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added or removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

[mossydice]

Nerium my darling, darling Thallain who can totally be trusted, Completely (✿◡‿◡)৹🔪

[hellcheerficdatabase]

like I’ve been there before

Author: empress_of_snark

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience

Chapter Count: 15/? (part 1 of shiny happy people series)

Description:

Nancy speaks without thinking. “You can stay with me!”

When Chrissy looks at her, her eyes are wide and grateful. She mouths ‘really?’ and Nancy nods.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive. After all, it’s been six years. Who even knows if she and Chrissy will still have anything in common after such a long time? They might drive each other crazy.

But ever since Robin moved out, she’s been lonely. Sure, Steve and Eddie still abuse their privilege of having a spare key, barging in at all hours to use her phone, borrow her plunger, or (most often) eat everything in her kitchen that isn’t nailed down. But a pair of obnoxious across-the-hall neighbors is not the same thing as a roommate, and she misses having another girl around.

“Yeah,” she answers with a shrug. “Why not? I’ve got the space.”

Tags: Alternate universe- no vecna, 90s au, future fic, Friends AU, found family, mutual pining, slow-burn, fluff, angst, lil bit of angst, a sprinkle if you will, friends to lovers, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: WIP

[wisploid]

out of context AT&S spoiler

[thisisbecausepolyvoreclosed]

Concept design for Jayden Shiba as he appears in discussions me and my friend, @dani-luminae , have about the AU we have going on Dani's fic, Love From The Stars.

Hailing from a family of pirates, Jayden Shiba like a-lot of pirates when Auradon was formed, was banished to the Isle of The Lost alongside his wife, Alexandria, something both hated and longed to be freed from and go back to travelling the world again. This hate and longing would lead to the pair meeting the imprisoned god, Hades, who recruited pirates like Jayden and Alexandria to help with a scheme to escape the Isle. It didn't work, of course. Plans like that never work on the Isle. But during all this, Alexandria would ultimately end up spending a night with Hades, something Jayden wasn't against, given the couples open relationship nature and therefore, list of lovers on both sides. But while both were aware due to lack of any good protection supplies on the Isle, both are caught off guard still by Alexandria finding herself pregnant from her night with Hades, with Alexandria caught off guard the most. And despite Jayden, after the initial shock, being fine keeping the baby, Alexandria ultimately feared the baby and its potential too much. And as a result of this, only a few hours after the baby was born, Alexandria would come to the decision to abandon the baby on Hades' doorstep, and while Jayden and her were iffy with each other for a bit after that, both still remained together as both still loved each other at the end of it all, but both after the baby were more careful with their lovers if they continued to have those.

But eventually during their time on the Isle, tragedy would strike when Alexandria became deathly ill and despite Jayden's best efforts to keep her alive, she would ultimately pass away, leaving Jayden bitter towards Auradon even when freed finally alongside everyone else on the Isle, unable to forget Alexandria's death and how it could have been prevented if they had the right medication on the Isle. Choosing to not join a crew, Jayden would travel the world like normal, but in a more slow way, unable to find the adventure in it anymore without Alexandria. One day though, Jayden finds himself being tracked down by that very same baby that had been abandoned with Hades, now a teenager going by the name of Reese, who in her search for answers on her mom, found Jayden...

[pbpsbff]

there are like 2? 3? fics total on my account that don't have some kind of angst mixed into them and i think i have a problem

[teanao]

You know Thou Shalt Not Die by Yoko Taro? I'm still in the process of reading it, I think im on ch.6 or 7

yess, i love that manga! hope you're enjoying it so far :))

[the-ragingenby]

I'm finishing this monstrosity no matter what >:3

(One more chapter left! The epilogue :) )

Edit: AO3 Crosspost

Dear Fellow Traveler

Chapter 6

TW: Vague gun violence and injuries.

Morgan clicked his phone shut, turning to see where Spencer had wandered off to. “Spence?” He paused, noticing the door in the back had been opened. “Spencer?” When he got no response, Morgan frowned, carefully inching towards the door. 

He stepped inside cautiously, listening for any small sound while keeping one hand on his holster. “Spencer, are you there?” Nothing. Morgan could feel anxiety starting to bubble up, but he pushed it down, focusing on trying to find Spencer. He couldn’t have wandered far, right?

Inching into the room, he noticed a particularly dark corner and fished out his flashlight. Stairs? Shining his flashlight around, he finally spotted a black rectangle tossed nearby. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a phone. Spencer’s phone. 

Shakily, Morgan picked it up, staring at the now cracked screen. A few new messages had been received. Morgan stared down at them in horror. 

[12:02 pm]

uN0wN: You have really got to take better care of “your pretty boy”. He was…stupidly easy to get. All because of you.

[12:03 pm]

uN0wN: He takes after Gideon. Always caring too much about the people around them.

[12:03 pm]

uN0wN: I’m not sure what my Spencer sees in you. But you’ll never get him back. After all, he’s mine. 

Morgan felt his heart sink. This was his fault. He let Spencer get taken by that bastard. “Damn it all!” He spat, taking every ounce of his willpower not to crush the phone in his hands. Carefully slipping it into his pocket, he pulled out his phone. 

“Garcia,” He gritted out. “Tell Hotch that I’ll need the team’s help. It’s urgent.”

~

Morgan paced in Gideon’s office as Hotch and the others assessed the crime scene and messages on Spencer’s phone. “He was right about it being a dud.” Garcia muttered through the phone. “A burner. Changes numbers every two days.”

“We’ll need to investigate that staircase.” Hotch decided. “Rossi managed to get the blueprints for the school from the dean.”

“No one really knew about this staircase except for Gideon and the dean.” JJ sighed, shaking her head. “The last time it was even mentioned was in a small campus gossip column that wasn’t even published before being taken down by Gideon himself.”

“So what you’re saying is that the people involved with that column are persons of interest?” Garcia chimed in. 

“They would be, but Spencer mentioned that this guy’s been following him around since high school. So cross-check that with anyone Spencer might’ve had contact with back then.” Prentiss added, sparing a glance towards Morgan. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Just peachy.” Morgan paused in his pacing to glare at her, but he faltered when he noticed her pitying expression. “I just…should’ve been able to protect him. I promised him that I could. And I failed at that one thing.”

“Morgan, it’s okay.” JJ assured him. “We’ll get him back. Both of them.” Morgan tried to stay optimistic. Really, he did. But…what if he never saw Spencer again? No, don’t think like that. You’ll get him back and obliterate that bastard. 

“Hey! I’m getting a feed here!” Garcia cried, typing frantically to share the broadcast on Hotch’s tablet. Morgan rushed over to see, with the rest of the team following quickly. 

There, in that broadcast, sat Spencer and Gideon tied back to back in two chairs. Spencer was slumped over, his hair falling into his eyes, obscuring his face. But Morgan could tell. That was Spencer. No doubt about it. 

“I figured you lot would wanna see what I do with these guys.” A voice murmured from behind the camera, its cadence slow and monotonous. Like it was bored. 

“Let Spencer go!” Morgan practically growled, though he knew that the unsub probably couldn’t hear him. 

“Since our little Spencer seems to be out of commission at the moment, let’s talk to our pal, Gideon.” The voice yammered on, chuckling slightly. “Why don’t you tell your old buddies just how you got into this mess?”

“T-that’s Jason Gideon!” JJ gasped. “What the hell? I thought he was dead!” Hotch looked away.

“He just disappeared one day, so he was presumed dead. That much is true.” Hotch admitted through gritted teeth. “But he contacted me a few years later requesting I keep his status a secret. I apologize.” 

“I know that old coot was too smart to just die.” Rossi snickered, attempting to diffuse the otherwise tense atmosphere. “Though I don’t know how he went and got himself kidnapped.” 

“You leave them out of this.” Gideon wheezed, glaring at the camera defiantly. “It’s me you wanted all this time. Not Spencer, not my old team. Why must you torment him so?”

“You know, as adorable as he is, this is all just a game for me. The pieces have been in motion long before you were even aware you were playing.” The voice let out a harsher laugh, perhaps on the verge of tears. “The fact that you haven’t even realized that is painful, Gideon.”

“Like I give two shits about your pain.” Gideon huffed before letting out a cry of pain as the unsub smacked his side harshly with a cane. A sickening crack rang through the otherwise quiet room. 

“We’ll see if you change your tune soon enough.” The voice said flatly, decisively. After that, the connection was terminated.

“Garcia, could you trace the broadcast?” Morgan asked, every muscle in his body tense. 

“Sort of?” She let out a sort of wail, typing furiously. “I’m trying, I’m trying! But it’s starting to look more and more like you’ll need to go down those stairs. The signal is coming from underground.” 

“I’ll get SWAT.” Hotch said, pulling out his phone. Morgan forced himself not to start pacing again. Once we find Spencer, I’ll need all my strength to beat that bastard into a bloody pulp. 

Within the hour, SWAT arrived on the scene and they all made their way down the steps. Morgan willed himself to focus, but it was growing harder with each minute that Spencer was still in the unsub’s clutches. And Gideon too, Morgan had to remind himself.

They walked in the dark for a few minutes, the area only lit by their flashlights. The staircase opened up into a long hallway with stone flooring and brick walls. “Why does a university need a secret tunnel? It’s not like it’s an old stock broker’s house or something.” Garcia muttered in Morgan’s earpiece as the group continued down the hallway.

“Beats me.” He managed to whisper, before hesitating. “Is that a…wall?” Hotch paused, inching forward to examine it more closely. 

“Looks like it was put in recently. The bricks are significantly newer than the ones in the wall.” Hotch observed, slipping his gun back into his holster. One member of SWAT stepped forward and pushed against the wall.

“Maybe we could bring in the battering ram. Might be able to knock it down.” He said. Hotch gave a half nod.

“While it could work, it might take too long and give our unsub a chance to escape.” Hotch explained. 

“Then maybe a couple of us could go and find another entrance.” JJ suggested as the team headed back to the surface. “With underground tunnels as intricate as these, there must be another way in.” 

“Agreed.” Hotch decided. “Morgan, take Prentiss and explore around campus. See if you can find anything that might lead into those tunnels.”

Morgan wanted to argue, he really did, but he knew just standing around here wouldn’t find Spencer any faster. “Right.”

~

“Of course we don’t find anything.” Prentiss sighed, laying her head against a desk in the Richmond Police Department. Morgan stood nearby, leaning against the counter, nursing what felt like his thirtieth cup of coffee. It was four in the morning now and they still haven’t found anything. And the first twenty-four hours are the most important. We haven’t gotten another broadcast. I don’t know what’s going on. They could be dying and we’re just sitting here!

Rossi marched into the conference room they had set up camp in, looking just a little miffed. “Talked to the dean for hours, but he insists he didn’t know about the wall and doesn’t know about any other entrances. Anything that’s not on the blueprints, he doesn’t know about.”

Morgan let out a grunt, taking a sip of his coffee. “Maybe we’ll have to drill a hole through the floor.” 

“I wish it was that simple.” Prentiss groaned, sitting up to peer at him. “How are you holding up?” Morgan nearly crushed the styrofoam cup in his hand. 

“You’d better keep the unsub from me once we catch him.” Morgan grumbled, newfound anger washing over him. “Might commit a felony if he’s within arm’s reach.”

“Right. Somehow, better than I was expecting.” Prentiss gave him a crooked half-smile. “But no committing felonies. It’ll be too much work to get you out of jail.” Morgan couldn’t help but crack a smile, just a small one. As much as he was worried about Spencer, which was a whole damn lot, he felt that deep down, Spencer was much stronger than probably anyone gave him credit for. He’ll be alright. I just know it. 

“There’s been no updates.” Hotch sighed, stepping into the room. “But I’ve had Garcia run some checks on anyone that might be of interest. So far, nothing’s sticking, but she’s still working on it. She’ll also continue to monitor the channel our unsub had broadcasted from. For now, we’ve had some sleeping arrangements set up for us by the hotel a block over. We’ll all be heading over there and getting a good night’s rest.” Hotch looked at Morgan pointedly, daring him to argue.

He didn’t. 

The group had only slept a few hours before Garcia called them all, yelling, “There’s a new broadcast! Hurry up!” They all congregated in Hotch’s room to watch the broadcast on his tablet.

“Good morning, sleepyheads!” The voice greeted cheerily, poking Spencer in the side. All he did was sit up a little straighter, eying the man carefully. “Gideon, come on. Stop being a poor sport. Passing out from a few smacks is actually kind of embarrassing. Even the little one here took more than that.”

He hurt Spencer. That little bastard hurt Spencer. It was now that Morgan noticed blood trickling from Spencer’s head. His face was otherwise unscathed. “He’s got a head injury. W-we’ve got to find him!” Garcia wailed.

“Just breathe, Garcia. Focus on getting those exact coordinates, okay?” Prentiss assured her, not taking her eyes from the video feed. Garcia made a determined noise of acknowledgement before her typing kicked up again. 

The unsub poked Gideon a few times with the cane from yesterday. Finally, Gideon shifted, tugging a little at his restraints. “Aren’t you growing tired of this? Just let Spencer go and you can do what you want with me.” 

“Don’t you think that’s too easy?!” The voice cackled. “I’m here to make you suffer. And to do that, I need to use this one here.” The unsub reached out to Spencer, tugging his chin so he faced the camera. “Here, why don’t you address our audience, hm? I’m sure Morgan misses you so much.” 

Despite his injury, Spencer met the camera’s gaze steadily, his eyes bright with determination. He cleared his throat before speaking in a rasp. “Season 4, episode 8.” 

“What are you babbling about?” The unsub laughed, tapping Spencer’s forehead. “You could’ve said anything to your boy toy and that’s what you choose to say? Something about some show?” 

Spencer didn’t reply. He continued to stare into the camera, trembling ever so slightly. His eyes were desperate now, pleading with them to understand and come save him.

“Let him go.” Gideon huffed, jerking to jostle both Spencer and the unsub’s grip on him. The unsub let go, a little reluctantly before heading back to the camera. 

“Say so long to your old team, for now.” The unsub decided, ending the broadcast once again. 

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch snapped. 

“I’ve got an approximate location, but I couldn’t narrow it down!” Garcia cried. “All I know is that it’s somewhere on the northern part of campus. Underground like last time. He’s using some sort of blocker to keep me from getting his exact location, but I’ll keep trying…”

Morgan paused for a moment. What could Spencer have meant? He knew I would understand…wait a second. 

“Morgan?” Prentiss asked, looking perplexed. “Do you know what Spencer meant? It has to be some sort of show, right?” 

“Doctor Who!” He exclaimed after a moment. Of course! How could I not see it? Doctor Who is always the answer! Well, not really but whatever! “In the 2008 reboot, that episode is called ‘Silence in the Library’. He’s probably trying to tell us he’s stuck in a library!”

“And there’s only one on the north side of campus!” Garcia added cheerily. “It’s within my approximate coordinates.”

“Then let’s go. I’ll have SWAT start on the battering ram as soon as we find that entrance.” Hotch decided with a nod. At that, everyone shot up and started racing to their rooms to get changed into proper clothes before making their way back to the campus. 

~

“I’ve got a name for our potential suspect.” Garcia announced in the teams’ earpieces as Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi made their way into the library. “Marcus Warner. He was a massive fan of Gideon with a surprisingly large internet presence, analyzing all his cases and such. Then he disappeared from the web suddenly. It lines up with him meeting Spencer as a substitute teacher at his high school. From there, I think we can all see where it’s going.”

“Ew. He’s a pedophile or something isn’t he.” Prentiss groaned, wrinkling her nose. 

“Plus a couple rape charges on top of that. But he managed to get off with a year and probation.” Garcia made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Why do I always have to research such gross people? Bleh. Makes me feel icky.”

“Sorry, baby girl. But thanks for the info.” Morgan sighed. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” This one I can keep.

“You’d better.” She huffed playfully. Morgan carefully led the group through the library, poking every suspicious looking book and wall, but to no avail. 

“Man, this is going nowhere.” Prentiss groaned, leaning back against a wall. “This is so-” She let out a squeak of shock as she accidentally nudged a small painting and the wall pushed inwards. Prentiss leapt away, eyes wide as a new staircase was exposed in the floor. 

“Well. Damn.” Rossi barked out a laugh. Morgan led the charge down the stairs, gun raised and the others quickly followed. 

“We’re in, Hotch.” Morgan called in through his radio. There was silence for a moment before Hotch acknowledged and prepared SWAT on the other side of the wall. 

They slunk through the semi-darkness, flashlights lighting the path. There was nothing for a while, save for the giant wall, but the group eventually came to a door off to the side. Morgan could hear voices coming from inside. “When Derek finds me, you’ll really regret this.” Morgan froze. That’s Spencer!

“Man, this Morgan dude has really made you bold. How annoying.” The unsub groaned. “Well, how about this? Either Gideon dies, or you do. Take your pick.” 

“Hotch, now!” Rossi hissed into his radio. SWAT bashed into the wall, sending a resounding bang through the tunnel. 

“I choose neither.” Spencer sounded relieved, maybe he heard Hotch and the SWAT team breaking down the wall. “After you tormented me for years, all to get at Gideon, I won’t give you the satisfaction of finishing your so-called mission.” 

“You little-!” The unsub began, then there was a gunshot. Then silence. Deathly silence. 

“Spencer!” Morgan couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Morgan, don’t!” Rossi ordered, but it was too late. Morgan burst the door open, gun raised and prepared to shoot. He froze then, realizing the unsub was collapsed on the floor, bleeding from his abdomen. Spencer was still tied up, but Gideon was free and the gun was in his hands. 

Gideon looked up, meeting Morgan’s eyes with a dullness that was almost startling. “He had wanted me to kill Spencer. Or myself. The arrogant little prick didn’t think I had it in me.” Gideon smiled wryly. “He thought wrong.” 

“Drop your weapon and put your hands up.” Prentiss ordered shakily. Gideon hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. 

“I’ll drop the weapon, fine. But I’m not going to the police.” He slid the gun over to the agents before inching backwards. “I’m finally free. And…so is he.” Gideon jerked his head towards Spencer, who was staring, wide-eyed. “This is my fault. All my fault. I can admit that. And I’m sorry to do this to all of you, after everything we’d been through together.” 

SWAT, Hotch, and JJ appeared in the doorway, but it was too late. Gideon dropped through a hole in the room, not giving anyone time to react. Rossi raced over and peered inside. “It goes into the sewers.” He gagged, backing away. “Not sure how we’ll find him now.” 

Morgan holstered his gun, moving quickly to untie Spencer. “Spence? Spence, can you hear me?” Spencer’s head bobbed in what could pass as a nod. “Good. Can you stand?” Another nod, and Spencer shakily gets to his feet, trembling hard in Morgan’s hold. 

Spencer stared down at the bleeding, broken body in the center of the room. It was only after Morgan gently nudged him that he started moving again, like he was on autopilot. “Get a medic down here now!” One of the SWAT members yelled into his phone.

“You’re safe now, Spence.” Morgan murmured, gently brushing his hair aside to take a closer look at the wound. It was caked with dried blood, but didn’t look too serious. But then again, he wasn’t a doctor either. “I won’t let anything like this happen to you ever again. I promise.” 

Spencer leaned against him, letting out a soft, relieved sigh and burying his face into Morgan’s chest.

[navysealt4t]

hmmmm i dont know what to write

[viovayo]

Shrimpolic Gestures

After everything... They were okay.

It’s that time of the year again! After not participating last year I was extra excited for this year’s Yu-Gi-Oh! Mini Exchange over on AO3, so here’s some Johan and his spirit fam for Costello_Music :D

Read on AO3

[hwaslayer]

i hope you got some rest, bae 😭 but yessss yess the first kiss FINALLY 🤌🏼 lots of firsts!!!! woo is so gentle with her in everything he does, says 🥺

vivrant thing (jwy) | three.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.6k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, dinner w/ yeosang!, feelings are laid out oof, alcohol consumption & slight intoxication, a bit more of jiwoo vs. wooyoung, use of pet names (princess, love, baby girl, baby), lots and lots of kissing, making out, mentions of marking, some dry humping, unprotected sex, slow sweet sex??, wooyoung pulls out 🫢

So, you agree to the dinner with Yeosang but you don't expect how terrible it ends up playing out.

At first, it starts off well.

It felt like dinner wouldn't be so bad, and you enjoyed seeing Yeosang being his usual self from the car ride up to the restaurant. When he pulls into a spot in the parking lot and helps you out of the car, there is a bit of a difference in Yeosang's attitude. He slides his hand into yours as he leads the way into the restaurant and as much as you adore your bestfriend, it feels incredibly unnatural. 

It surely doesn't feel like Wooyoung's, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

He continues to loosely hold your hand until the host brings you to a table near the back end of the restaurant. You didn't think tonight's dinner would be so fancy, but you were in your business casual attire straight out of work; it ended up working out well in the end. You scoot into the booth, with Yeosang on the other side. He immediately orders a bottle of white wine, which isn't really to your liking as you've learned, but you'll make do with what you have— especially to get through this dinner.

You order appetizers along with your main courses, indulging in good conversation with Yeosang as he tells you work updates and how he's being dragged to this really important meeting over the weekend with the board of directors by his team lead. 

It's all good. It's all fun and casual, until it isn't.

Meanwhile, Jiwoo stops by her brother's apartment to drop off some sushi from his favorite Japanese restaurant. It's her way of saying 'thank you' without actually having to say it out loud.

"What now?" Wooyoung swings his door open to see his sister standing there with a bag of food.

"Hi to you, too." She drops it on his kitchen counter. "Bought you food from Sushi Kashiwa." 

"Aw, just say it." He pretends to pout while she gives him a disgusted look and unties the bag.

"No. Besides, I bought myself some food and am gonna enjoy it right here." She lays out the containers and grabs her own. "My friends decided to leave me out of a very important dinner tonight."

"What are you talking about?" He pops open the lid to his sushi container and wastes no time digging in.

"Y/N went to dinner with Yeosang. I guess to talk about stuff going on between them, I don't know." Wooyoung pauses mid-chew, the statement hitting him right in his gut. He's not sure why he's sad— maybe he's right after all. Maybe this just ended up being a temporary one night thing that would eventually wash away.

Sucks it doesn't necessarily feel that way for Wooyoung.

He can't assume, though. Hopefully, you're talking to Yeosang and giving him the honest 'i think we should just stay friends' talk instead of the 'let's just see where this goes' talk. He'd appreciate the universe if it could give him this one thing; he'll stop running his parents' last nerve and will never look at a booty ever again.

Maybe.

"Oh." Is all Wooyoung says before stuffing another piece into his mouth. "Why would you even be there, Jiwoo? That doesn't concern you."

"Anything with my friends concerns me."

"Let them talk it out without your loud, nosey ass interrupting." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she also continues to eat.

"I haven't gotten any new texts from her. I wonder if it's going well. Maybe they're gonna explore this after all."

"Who says?" Wooyoung responds a little too quickly, a little too sharply, for his liking. His sister doesn't seem to catch on, though. That's great.

"I dunno, beats me. I'm just taking all angles into consideration."

"Stop projecting. She seemed to be pretty set on her decision at the party."

"You never know." She says in a sing-song tone that irks Wooyoung a little more than usual this evening. "You're right, though. She is set on her decision. I just hope he takes it well." She sets her phone aside. "Anyway. How'd you like the party?"

"Gotta admit, it was fun."

"You really looked like Y/N's date. I had a few people ask me if you two were dating."

"Uh, I mean I was her date? And why would they ask when I already told them yes?" He jokes, just to push his sister's buttons.

"No way." Jiwoo continues to eat away at her food, texting Hongjoong in the midst of it. "Y/N is too good for you."

"No one is too good for anyone. Don't speak on shit you don't know."

"I know her!"

"And I know her, too!"

"I know her the best." Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Still doesn't mean you know everything about her."

"Ew, why are you getting so defensive tonight?" He shakes his head, feeling the irritation within him grow the more Jiwoo presses it. He knows he isn't the best man to walk this Earth, but he also knows he'd be good to you. Good for you. He's been thinking about it a lot and he hates that he is— none of this makes sense to him, but he knows he'd be good.

"Don't you have to go see Hongjoong?"

"Once he's off, yeah." Jiwoo sips on her water. "What're you doing tonight? Getting into more shit with Choi San?"

"No, he's actually visiting his parents."

"Hm." She hums. "No booty call coming over?"

"No. Even if there was, you would not be getting that information." She scoffs.

"Grow up, Wooyoung."

"Grow up, Wooyoung." He mocks her. "Says the one who made the wild claim based off of nothing."

"You're so annoying." She tosses her sushi container into his trash before washing her cup of water. Despite their usual bickering, Jiwoo stays for a bit longer until Hongjoong texts her and lets her know he's finally off of work after putting in some overtime. Jiwoo helps tidy up Wooyoung's space before she's waving goodbye [aka flipping him off] and slamming his door shut. Wooyoung plops back onto his couch with the remainder of his food resting on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone. He goes through your texts, wondering if he should say anything or keep silent. He smiles to himself when he sees the pictures you've passed along from the photographer. He sees you've posted the picture with him on your Instagram and it tugs at his heart because not only do you rarely use Instagram, but you took that opportunity to post your pictures from the party— including the one where you've got your hand resting on his chest while he has an arm around you. He was happy to see you happy and comfortable. Having fun. 

You glowed. 

He'll never forget it.

—OLD TEXTS

you: hi! they uploaded the pics from the party!

you: *sends a group of pics at once*

wooyoung: yo goddamn!? we look good!

wooyoung: you look so pretty. 😍

you: 😀 stop !!

wooyoung: i'm so serious, good LORD. 😮‍💨

you: i'm blocking you.....

wooyoung: woah now, hey i'm kiddddding....

wooyoung: not really! but don't block me! i just can't help it!

you: you're too much 😂

wooyoung: can i post these?

you: go for it!

wooyoung: thank you ☺️

He sighs as he reaches the end of the thread.

He won't say anything. He'll let this unfold as it should, but it doesn't mean he can't be sad about it. Cause he sure as hell is and he's a bit anxious. Hopefully, you'll tell Yeosang the truth. Hopefully, you won't force yourself into anything you don't want or feel uncomfortable with.

As for you, the dinner really takes its turn for the worse after you and Yeosang eat away at your main meals, a pregnant silence falling between you two after a good hour of just talking and yapping away about life. You already knew it was coming at this point, you were just hoping you'd buy a little more time [as if you could put it off even more]. 

"So." He says awkwardly to cut the silence.

"Mhm?"

"Did you really enjoy the party?"

"I did. Did you?"

"Yeah. I just—" He looks at you with his head cocked to the side. "I was just surprised seeing you with Wooyoung." You pause before poking at your pasta and taking a small bite. 

"Oh yeah, it was relatively last minute."

"Jiwoo's plan?"

"Why do you say that? Do you genuinely think Wooyoung wouldn't go with me?" You ask, a little offended at the way he sounds cause even though it was clearly planned and arranged, the insinuation from Yeosang doesn't hurt any less. 

"No, not like that— I'm sorry, it came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. That's all." You cock a brow up. 

"It just happened that way. Wooyoung wanted to go and I wanted to go in the end." Is all you respond with, chugging your second glass of wine before pouring yourself more. You really don't like the taste of this white wine either, but you'll take it cause it's better than sitting here without an ounce of alcohol to push you through. Give you more courage to finish the evening on a decent note, to be honest. "I had a really fun time, regardless."

"I saw." He pauses. "I wish you would've at least told me instead of showing up like that." 

"I'm sorry."

"I think it's time for me to be honest and stop watching from the sidelines because I.. really like you, Y/N." His shoulders droop just as he sets his fork and knife down neatly onto the plate. You take the last bite of your meal before sipping on more wine to wash it down.

"I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"It wouldn't? Why wouldn't it have changed anything? I thought we might've had a chance." He's confused. He looks like he was expecting a completely different outcome, and that might've been your fault for not telling him right away. But, the moment is here now and you know you can't push it off any longer.

"No. I just.. I just can't, Yeo. I'm sorry." You barely get yourself to respond out of fear. You knew Yeosang wasn't the type to react— if anything, he'd be the most understanding. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you were still scared. You felt bad. You didn't want to hurt him, and you wanted to avoid this confrontation as much as possible even though you knew you needed to face it sooner than later. "I truthfully think we're good with where we're at, and I don't think we should mess that up. I love the way we are as good friends, bestfriends, and that's how I've always seen us." You can see the disappointment growing on his face every second, but he's trying hard to keep it under wraps while he briefly waves the waitress down for the check.

"C-can I ask? You can be honest." You silently nod. "Is it Wooyoung?" You shake your head.

"It was never about Wooyoung. Just us. Well, me. You're amazing, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who is sure about you and who will reciprocate those feelings to no end. I'm sorry that I can't be that person, but at the same time, I know I can be your friend just like I always have been. That's what I can give you, and I hope you understand." You tell him softly. "I'm sorry." You repeat, feeling the tears brimming your bottom lids. "I should've opened up earlier. I really hope this doesn't change things between us."

"It won't, but I hope you understand it'll take me some time to move past it. I'm sorry for assuming or for— yeah." He shakes his thoughts away.

"Take all the time you need." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"Anyway." Yeosang signs off on the receipt before tucking his card back into his wallet and standing. "Let's get you home."

"Okay." You shimmy out of the booth to head out of the restaurant. This time, Yeosang doesn't hold your hand. In fact, he trails behind you, keeping at a safe distance. You can immediately see the change— how stiff and awkward he's become. You don't blame him for it; he's hurting and you know he needs his space more than anything. 

You can't wait to get home.

The ride is fucking awful. It's the most quiet you've seen Yeosang. The most closed-off and serious he's ever been towards you. His hand is clutching the wheel tightly, but the music is comforting enough to fill the void. You continue to look out of the passenger's window, keeping to yourself until Yeosang asks about your plans for the rest of the weekend. There isn't much going on for you, so that conversation dies quickly. Luckily for you, Yeosang is about to pull up to your street. He stops the car by your building, shifting the gear to park before helping you out of the car. You give him a small, sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug— giving his back a gentle rub.

"Sleep well, alright? I'll see you next week."

"You too." With that, he walks off, waiting until you at least unlock and crack your door open. When you get a whiff of your candle that you lit up earlier in the morning, you realize you don't really wanna stay home right now; to sulk, to drown in your thoughts alone, to have to listen to the loudness in a quiet space. So, you shut the door again, head back down the steps and walk to the convenience store nearby. You grab a bottle of yogurt soju, along with your favorite chips and strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar— plopping yourself down onto one of the tables right outside the store. You're quick to crack open the bottle and drink away, also eating away at the chips since you didn't feel incredibly satisfied with the dinner earlier. It might've just been all the emotions and tension in the air, but anywho, the chips and the soju taste better than ever. Sooner or later, you find yourself tipsier, cheeks lit on fire, hands clammy; barely hitting the halfway point with the soju bottle. You lazily scroll through your phone as you begin to eat away at the ice cream bar, revisiting those party pictures.

You wonder what Wooyoung is doing, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

"Ugh." You whine and pout to yourself, pulling up your texts to see if Jiwoo can come to your rescue. You opted for listing Jiwoo and Wooyoung as Jung 1 and Jung 2 to keep it easy and simple; except, it obviously doesn't work well in this case when you accidentally pull up the text with Jung 2 instead of Jung 1 while you wipe away at the tears that suddenly begin to stream down your cheeks.

you: oof .... that dinner was kinda awful i feel terrible

you: kinda?! not even kinda it WAS awfullll

you: i'm sitting outside of our fav convenience store by my olace

you: eating strawberry cheesecake ice cfream!!

you: jiwooooooo

you: jung 1!!!!

Wooyoung furrows his brows at the constant dinging of his phone, unsure of who the hell could be blowing up his phone right now. He even sits for a minute, wondering if there's anybody he's pissed off in the last few days [besides his sister].

"Hm." He hums when he comes up with nothing, nobody. He picks up the phone and scrolls through the previews, chuckling to himself when he sees your name pop up on the screen. Clearly by accident.

you: jiwoo jung 1 pls help come to my rescue it was not good! idk if yeo n i will be friens still ☹️☹️☹️

wooyoung: sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but this is jung 2. 😙

wooyoung: also i won't hold it against you that i've been slotted as number 2 when i should be number 1 esp after the party. 🫤 but it's cool or whatever......

You squint at the brightness of your phone, slowly eating away at your strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar. You almost drop the damn thing when you realize you've actually been blowing up the wrong phone, horrified it had to be Wooyoung, too.

He must think you're a gem, truly.

He does, though. In a very good, non-sarcastic way.

you: omggg i'm so sorry wooyoung jung 2 ☹️

you: i mean jung 1 technically

wooyoung: lol no worries, don't be sorry. you okay?

you: yes but no?

wooyoung: stay put.

You cock a brow up in confusion, wondering if Wooyoung was telling you to stay put because he was on his way or because he just needed you to get yourself together. You listen anyway, sitting on the little chair outside of the convenience store, silently eating away at your ice cream with your phone lit on your lap. You completely forget about texting Jiwoo amidst all of this, assuming she's busy anyway. The wind is slowly picking up, cooling the tip of your nose and surface of your cheeks— settling the heat from the soju.  You shiver and run a hand down your arm, hoping the wind slows in between its waves. You continue to mindlessly scroll through your phone, even picking up your game of Wordle for the day. Just as you get lost in thought, a car parks in a spot in between your building and the convenience store. You look up as you bite into the last of your ice cream bar, hearing the muffled bass from the music in the car. Wooyoung steps out in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, a black beanie on his head. He approaches you with a small smile with his hands dug deep into his pockets, crouching to your level as he continues to look at you.

"W-Wooyoung." You hiccup as you sit on the bench, setting your trash down next to you. Wooyoung gives you a small smile, thumb wiping away at your tears.

"Wanna tell me why you've been out here eating ice cream alone?" He eyes your snacks of choice. "And.. a half bottle of soju and chips? I thought you had dinner with Yeosang."

"I did, and it was terrible and sad." You sniff. "Well, not the food. I just couldn't enjoy it as much. I even tried to drink that bitter white wine he ordered just to get me through."

"And you're drinking soju now? Really must have been that bad."

"Bad bad." You pout and he laughs.

"I'm sorry." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before patting it. "Come on, let's get you home." He stands, holding out his hand. You gladly take it in yours, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in an attempt to try and warm it up. He grabs the soju and the chips in his other, leading the way to your building. He quietly heads up the steps, stepping aside and letting go of your hand to let you open your door. When you step back into the warmth of your studio, you instantly kick off your shoes and slip into your slippers—lighting up your candle to bring more heat into the room.

"I'm gonna set your chips and soju aside." Wooyoung says, tightly tying your chips close so it doesn't get stale before setting your bottle of soju aside in the fridge.

"Thank you." You set your bag down and let out a sigh.

"Glad I was able to get you home safely." He chuckles a bit, jingling his keys in his hand. You don't want Wooyoung to leave, especially after he made the effort to get dressed and come to your rescue.

"Wooyoung?" He cocks a brow up when you turn to face him. "Can you stay?" He takes a moment before he nods, unsure how he could turn you down with you looking up at him that way. 

So innocently. So delicately. Eyes yearning for company you can be comforted with, need to be comforted with.

"Yeah, of course. As long as you're okay with me poking around and making some food." You giggle and nod.

"Go for it." You grab your pajamas. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to get comfortable and flip through the channels." You turn on the TV for him before shutting yourself within the bathroom walls to shower and get comfy for the evening. 

As you shower and get ready for bed that evening, you hear Wooyoung humming and singing a Blackstreet song to himself in your kitchen. After brushing your teeth, you finish up the last of your skincare routine before heading back outside.

"Finally." Wooyoung turns over his shoulder and quickly scans you from head to toe. "I was getting lonely."

"I didn't even take that long."

"It was long. You and Jiwoo take the longest showers known to man." He frowns a bit, making you giggle to yourself. You plop on your couch, now in your oversized crewneck and pajama pants. You're no longer tipsy, probably a little too sober for your liking especially knowing Wooyoung is in your studio. You do find his company comforting, though. You feel bad he had to come and rescue you, but you'd rather be here than anywhere else after that dinner with Yeosang. You tuck your legs to your chest, flipping through the tv channels only to land on Kiki's Delivery Service. It's already 20 minutes in, but it doesn't bother you knowing the movie so well. Wooyoung is still going through your stash of food, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon. While he waits for the hot water to properly cook the noodles, he dices up some pickled radish and some cucumbers, and quickly boils two eggs to perfection. When the noodles are done, he sets everything into the bowl neatly before grabbing a cold water bottle and plopping onto the couch next to you.

"What'd you do today?" You look at him just as he starts digging into the bowl.

"Work. Then Jiwoo came earlier in the night with some food from my favorite Japanese spot."

"Sushi Kashiwa?"

"Aw, you know?" Wooyoung smirks.

"Because Jiwoo has mentioned it one too many times." You chuckle. "That's cute, though."

"She only did it cause she was waiting for Hongjoong to get out of work. And to kiss my ass about the party."

"And because she loves you." He fake shivers.

"Ew. Please don't say that again." He looks at you and you snort. "Want a bite? I made it for us to share in case you were still hungry." He edges his chopsticks your way, watching as you shake your head in response.

"I'm good. Thank you though, Woo."

"Suit yourself, princess. I whipped up a good one." You laugh, settling into the couch as you continue to watch the movie. Wooyoung catches you slipping your sleeves over your palms in his peripherals and although he's pretty warm and cozy in your studio, you must still feel cold. He hurriedly slurps up the remaining of the noodles before gulping the entirety of his water bottle down. He lets out a noise that makes you laugh, kicking his head back in satisfaction. "Damn, that was good."

"Glad you enjoyed." You poke his arm and he smiles. "Is this movie okay with you?"

"Yeah, of course. Can never go wrong with Studio Ghibli movies. Unless, you're down to watch something scary?"

"Never." 

"Why not? I'm here."

"But, whatever scary movie we'll watch, it'll live in my head for the next few days and you won't be here."

"I could be, you just have to call me and I'll come. Like tonight."

"Wooyoung." You pout. "Today's was an accident."

"So, you didn't want me to come? That's funny, cause I didn't see another text from you after I told you to stay put, baby girl." He smirks and you shake your head shyly.

"I'm sorry." You continue to fiddle with your sleeves.

"Don't be. I'm just teasing, I wanted to come."

"Thank you. I needed it." You finally manage to let out as you look at him and scooch a little closer. He gives you a tiny smile before shifting his attention back to the TV, the both of you engaging in small talk about the characters here and there.

At some point, Wooyoung subtly inches in and closes off any gaps, quietly slipping his arm behind you. You silently chuckle to yourself when you see him playing it off, acting as if he hadn't done anything to get closer to you. But, the whole thing feels.. nice. It feels safe. It feels warm. Wooyoung really isn't expecting anything out of this— he is testing the waters to see how comfortable you'd be with him, but that's truly it. That's the intention. Just to make you feel comfortable and better after tonight's dinner. He definitely wasn't expecting you to lean your head against him, snuggling up to him as closely as possible. 

"You okay? Comfortable?" He asks softly. You look up at him and nod, settling back into your position on him.

"Mhm. You're warm." He laughs a bit when he hears that, keeping you close. As the movie continues with the both of you watching silently, you find yourself shifting in your position; arm fully coming around Wooyoung's torso. He doesn't mind one bit. As a matter of fact, he loves that you've gotten comfortable enough to do so.

He drops his arm down from the edge of the couch, holding you from behind as the movie continues to play. He gently rubs at your side before his hand falls to your hips. You feel Wooyoung's hand gently squeeze at it before sneaking right underneath your sweater. You freeze, but more so because you're surprised by his touch— not because you don't want him to be right where he is.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I don't know. I just feel bad." You say, eyes still on the TV ahead while you slowly began to relax in his hold.

"You were honest with him, right?" Wooyoung asks as a simple way to poke for more information and get you to open up about dinner. "Wanna tell me how the dinner went?" He traces faint, soft circles on your bare side.

"I was, and I guess that's why I feel bad. It started off fine. We went to the restaurant and we were talking as we always do. Random topics, jokes, going on about life updates. It went downhill when we got our food. It was quiet for a little bit and I knew he was thinking about what to say or how to say it." You pause. "He asked if I enjoyed the party. I said yes, then he asked if it was Jiwoo's plan." Wooyoung cocks a brow.

"What'd you say?"

"I got kinda defensive." You sigh, leaving out the whole moment of you asking Yeo if he thought Wooyoung wouldn't genuinely go to a party with you. "But anyway, I said you wanted to go.. and so did I. And I had a fun time with you."

"Atta girl." He laughs a bit. "And then?"

"He apologized and said he just wished I told him instead of surprisingly showing up. Then.. he laid it out. Said he had feelings for me and couldn't watch on the sidelines anymore. He felt like there could've been a chance, which was probably my fault for keeping that door open for too long." You sit up and face him, Wooyoung's arm still lazily holding you from behind. "I told him that even if I told him about the party beforehand, it wouldn't have changed anything because I couldn't. I liked us the way we were and that we were good as bestfriends. He deserved someone who was sure of him and who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly."

"Then, you didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You shrug before subconsciously grabbing a piece of lint on Wooyoung's hoodie and flicking it off. 

"He asked something else."

"Which was?"

"He asked if this was about you, a-and I said no." You avoid eye contact and lick your lips out of nervousness. 

"I see." Wooyoung smiles a bit before shifting up in his seat to get closer to you. He leans his cheek onto the palm of his hand, his arm that was behind you is now on the back of the couch— elbow resting on the edge. "Why can't you look at me?" He smirks teasingly.

"I am." You look at him for a minute before shifting your eyes elsewhere in the living room. 

"Was it really not about me, hm?" He hums, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. "You can tell me, love." He tries to pull you closer by the hand, and you let him.

"Can I?" His eyes quickly shift to the way you play around with his fingers.

"Course."

"Maybe it was."

"Just maybe?" He looks at your lips. "You think that's why you feel bad?" Brief pause. "That you might actually have feelings for me and you couldn't tell him that part?"

"Maybe." You repeat, his lips only inches away from yours. "Isn't that kinda silly?"

"No? I still don't think you did anything wrong, Y/N."

"Really, Woo?" There you go asking him so sweetly again. It's at this point when Wooyoung feels like he can no longer contain himself because you're giving him the answer he had been looking for; straight on a silver platter. 

"Mhm. As far as I know, you were honest when it came to him. What's between us is our business and not his." He says, his tone just barely above a whisper. You don't really know what comes over you, maybe you did have a little bit of liquid courage still running through your veins especially cause what happens next catches you slightly off-guard. You're so sure about your feelings for him, but unsure about Wooyoung's and how he even feels. This could all be a game that he plays, something he does with other women even if he says it isn't.

Guess it doesn't matter much right now. Can't, anyways.

Within the next second, you find yourself initiating the first kiss with Wooyoung; a kiss that feels long overdue. You lean forward and press your lips against his own soft, plump lips, quickly pulling back to get ready and apologize—

But, he doesn't let you. 

He chases after you.

He cups your cheeks and brings you back, thumb gently caressing the surface of your cheek. You haven't kissed someone like this in awhile, but with Wooyoung, it feels.. right. 

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

He tries to take it slow with you, even when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. The kiss becomes more heated, lips bruising from the rising intensity, hunger. Wooyoung slowly slips his tongue in, and hearing a small whimper from you in response only has him gripping your hips harder.

He quickly learns he likes kissing you.

"Been waiting to do this." He says against your lips.

"Have you?" You ask, your tone filled with lust as you continue to peck him with small, repeated kisses.

"Just didn't wanna scare you away."

"You wouldn't have."

"Have to be extra careful with you, baby. You aren't just anybody." The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily that it makes your head tilt back as the desire builds. He continues to hold you close as you slowly roll your hips against him, Wooyoung now kissing your jaw before gently sucking and licking on the surface of your neck;

The column, your throat.

You feel him come to the base and suck a little harder, and you're hoping it doesn't leave much of a mark. If it does, it doesn't fucking matter to you right now— nothing does. Because all you want is for Wooyoung to devour you. To give you everything, to ruin you so good.

"Is this okay? I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with—"

"Keep going, Wooyoung. Please." You cut him off. It takes a second for Wooyoung to register your pleading, that 'please' being the one thing that flips his switch. It's not only a want, but a heavy craving. He's got some sort of eagerness to show you just what you've been missing.

"Hold onto me." He says, lifting you with ease as he carries you over to your bed and plops you onto the mattress. He slowly crawls over you, his warm, large hands now cascading up your sweatshirt. Your breathing hitches when he reaches just above your rib cage, and Wooyoung stops when he feels your body tense in his grip. "You sure you're okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, down to your nose, your lips. He looks you in the eye with slight concern, afraid of scaring you. The last thing he wants you to think is that he's purely using you for other reasons— when it's definitely more than that.

Wooyoung wants to show you, in case he's bad at voicing his feelings. Cause he can be, clearly. But, he could at least show you and take care of you properly.

"I am."

"You trust me, yeah?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod, continuing to keep contact with Wooyoung. "I'll take care of you as long as you let me."

"I want you to." This time, Wooyoung dips forward to lock you into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands are finally roaming further up; Wooyoung letting out a low groan when he finds out you're braless. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple, tongues fighting for dominance while your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair. You toss his beanie off just as he starts to tug your crewneck over your head and you follow suit with his hoodie. He nibbles on your jaw just before sucking harshly on the skin of your neck. His hand travels down and slips into your pajama pants, fingers delicately rubbing at your clothed pussy that sends a million jolts down your spine. You twitch in response, and Wooyoung can't help but chuckle against your neck.

"So reactive." He teases.

"It's been awhile, Woo."

"And? That's fine, baby. Told you I'd take good care of you." He raises himself slightly to watch your reaction in real-time. "Does that feel good?" He asks, close to a whisper. 

"Yes." You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes, sighing in satisfaction.

"God. Can feel how wet you are already." Wooyoung feels himself getting painfully hard against your thigh, imagining how tight you are. He doesn't wanna waste another moment, and he thinks he'll lose it if he isn't inside of you within the next few seconds. "Let's take this off, hm?" He hums, hands already tugging your panties and pajama pants down. "Do you have a condom?"

"Don't need it. I'm on the pill." 

"You're sure? I'm clean, but I'll do whatever you're okay with. Just say the word." He asks again to be extra sure.

"I am, I'm sure." You nod eagerly. The pill was mainly to help regulate your heavy, irregular periods, but you'd say you do appreciate it a little more now for this particular reason.

"You're so hot, jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung doesn't say anything else before he's keenly kissing you again, hastily getting out of his sweats. 

Sooner or later, the rest of Wooyoung's clothes are joining yours on the floor; Wooyoung not wasting any seconds reattaching his lips to yours after slipping them off. 

Wooyoung pauses when he sees you fixed on his length— eyes hazy and full of desire. It's giving Wooyoung the biggest fucking ego boost, but that's not important. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. He slowly eases himself in, the both of you letting out lewd moans as you both adjust to the feeling. You're tightly wrapped around him and Wooyoung has to keep his composure as he buries himself deep to the hilt. Wooyoung keeps his pace slow and steady; forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts into you. It's nothing rushed, everything about it is slow— so tender, so careful. 

So safe.

"Wooyoung." You moan his name and his brain short-circuits every time you say it the way you do. On top of that, your little whimpers are doing a number on him, but he's trying to keep it together for awhile longer. 

"Doing so well for me, love." He gently bites your chin just as he slightly picks up his pace. He hovers a bit, lips coming back up to meet you in a sweet kiss. He holds it for a minute longer, tongue swiping over your lips as he rolls his hips into you. 

It's intimate. 

It's deep. 

It's raw. 

It's nothing he'd do to his booty calls, no. Everything about those moments are forced and rushed, the end goal having to nut as quickly as possible and get them the hell out of his space.

With you, he's loving every second. He wants to relish in the way your walls feel around him, wants to relish in the way your fingers thread through his hair, wants to relish in the way you kiss him so slowly, so passionately. Like every kiss holds the answers to the universe and you're afraid you'll miss a single detail.

He rests his nose, lips, against your cheek just as he releases a shaky breath, still taking his time as he works his way with you. He comes down to your neck and leaves feathery pecks against the surface while his body is pressed flushed against yours. He turns his head and you've fully wrapped your arms around him. The pace is perfect, with Wooyoung working his hips in circular motions just to hit you in all the right places. He praises you as you continue to moan for him, pretty little mewls slipping from your lips while he tells you how captivating, how angelic, you are for him.

How perfect you are for him.

You find your hips have a mind of their own, working to match Wooyoung's movements. You feel the pleasure building quick at your core, and you know it won't take long from there.

"Wooyoung— just like that, please—oh my god." You sob. While he continues to expertly thrust into you and keep you close, the friction against him causes the coil within you to snap harshly, nails digging deep into Wooyoung's shoulders while he thrusts harder, a bit rougher, to meet his high. 

"F-fuck, baby. I'm about to—" He moans a little louder when he feels you clench a few times around him from the aftershock, quickly pulling out and releasing onto your pussy and abdomen. "Shit—fuck." He pants, finally coming back down from euphoria to see how mesmerizing you look splayed out beneath him; white ribbons of cum painted on your skin. He's completely enamored by you. "Mm'sorry babygirl, let's get you cleaned up." You giggle and shake your head.

"Please, it's fine. Stop looking, you're making me shy again."

"Don't be. You look beautiful." He laughs, slipping on his boxers. "Let me clean you up." He runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes, doing a light jog to clean you up well. You grab your panties and your crewneck after he's done— throwing them on and snuggling under your covers. You fully expect Wooyoung to get dressed and leave [which would suck], but he doesn't. You quietly watch as he shuts off your TV and the lights, going to the bathroom for a quick wash up. Afterwards, he immediately slips underneath your covers right next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

"You're staying?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls you closer. "Sleepy?"

"Incredibly." He smiles.

"I put in some work, huh?"

"Wooyoung." You pout, lightly smacking his chest.

"I'm just joking." He subtly bites his lip. "Can I have one more kiss before we sleep?" You lean up and peck him on the lips a few times, with Wooyoung holding the last kiss before pulling away. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight." You mumble, falling asleep within seconds as you cuddle snuggly against him. Because with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd

[littlexdeaths]

she fuckin’ hates me - e.m.

enemy eddie munson x fem reader x crush steve harrington

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: hate fucking, semi-public sex, mean!dom eddie (he’s secretly down so bad), fingering, they both call each names (slut, brat, asshole, dickhead), big dick eddie, unprotected piv sex (the condom breaks oops), unintentionally cream pie, little sprinkle of angst

a/n: this is entirely inspired by that one audio by eyesofsuggestion (getting hate fucked on your crushes bed by his best friend).

word count: 3.5k

also huge shoutout to both @strangerstilinski and @uglypastels for helping me so much. i appreciate the hell out of you both. and also to @lesservillain for giving me the condom idea. enjoy my lil freaks xx.

“Looks like someone’s not enjoying the party…”

You barely register his deep voice over the thumping bass from inside the house when you stomp out onto the patio.

The night air feels nearly as sticky as inside the house, the amount of bodies pressing together causing the temperature to skyrocket.

But the moment you see his lanky figure leaning against the side of Steve’s house and the burning cherry of his cigarette in the dark— you’re half tempted to turn around.

You were already having a terrible night to begin with but you weren’t about to let Eddie Munson make it any worse for you. Knowing this was partially his fault to begin with. 

“What‘s it to you, Munson?” you spit.

His answering chuckle has you gritting your teeth, tucking your skirt under yourself as you sit on the patio steps.

“Oh nothing…” he hums, taking another long drag from his cigarette. “It’s just hard not to notice how you’ve been throwing yourself at Steve all night.”

While you hate to admit it, and you wouldn’t out loud— Eddie was right.

You’d gone out of your way to pretty yourself up for him, wearing your lowest cut blouse and your shortest skirt in hopes of getting his attention. You stayed by his side, laughed at all his jokes. Despite all the effort you put in, Steve barely spared you a passing glance.

It was such a total switch from how he was acting towards you the previous weekend. Steve had barely got you in his bedroom before his hands were in your pants. But now he was too busy shoving his tongue down a pretty blonde’s throat to even notice your absence.

“I haven’t been throwing myself at anyone, dickhead,” you roll your eyes with a scoff.

Eddie just laughs again, leaning his head back against the siding. “I wouldn’t have assumed  Steve’s dick game was so good that you’d be crawling back for sloppy seconds.” 

And when you turn to glare at him, you can’t help but admire the way the smoke unfurls from his plump lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, prick.” 

“— Hey now,” he mocked you with a slight pout, “Don’t take your sexual frustration out on me, princess. I was just stating the obvious.”

You avert your eyes before he catches you staring, but that frustration mixed with unkindled desire continues to mount between you with each passing second. 

So when your eyes are drawn back to him, you aren’t entirely sure why. 

As annoying as Eddie could be, you can’t deny that he was attractive. And if his shitty attitude towards you wasn’t the reason that Steve kept blowing you off, maybe you’d actually like him. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

“— you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he teases.

While your face shows mock disgust, your body betrays you when you feel wetness beginning to pool in the fabric of your panties. 

“In your dreams, Munson.”

Eddie smirks a little, taking that as a challenge.

“What are you, scared?” 

Under normal circumstances, you’d tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. Perhaps it was your hormones getting the best of you. 

But there was something about the way the moonlight catches on his rings, and the pale glow that casts shadows over his handsome features— that’s making you think otherwise.

“I mean… I don’t see anyone else lining up to take that bratty ass of yours home.” Eddie takes one last, long drag but this time he notices the way your eyes linger on his lips.

You make it almost too easy.

“And it would be a damn shame to let all that hard work of yours go to waste, you know?” he continues casually while he snuffs out his cigarette. “Since Harrington, clearly isn’t appreciating it.” 

And you really can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Eddie closes the remaining distance between you, causing your head to tilt back as you look up at him in utter disbelief.

“Don’t act so coy, I saw how you were looking at me just now…”

Beneath his cocky demeanor, his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

Because unbeknownst to you, the real reason Steve was avoiding you at every turn was entirely for Eddie's benefit. He was just trying to be a good friend.

Eddie holds up his hand before you can say anything else, his lips lifting in a shit eating grin.

“Besides, we both know that if it’s not for me, you’ll be going home with an empty cunt. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Your body flushes at the vulgarity of his words, but you mull them over nonetheless. 

While you didn’t like him, despised him in fact— this could be an opportunity to get some pent up frustration out of your system. Since it was clear Steve wasn’t up for the challenge. 

So you tuck your lower lip in between your teeth and you rise to your feet.

“Fine,” you hum and there’s a sudden flash of surprise in his eyes. Like he half expected you to tell him to go fuck himself and storm off, but it’s gone just as quickly. “On one condition.”

The patio steps put you an inch or so above him, so now he has to look up to meet your gaze.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that, princess?” he smirks.

You grip the fabric of his t-shirt in your fists, urging him closer. You can feel the heat radiating from him, your breasts now flush against his chest.

“You keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

And you use the advantage of your slight height difference to press your lips to his before he has a chance to respond.

Eddie all but groans into your mouth as tugs you closer, hands gripping onto your hips before splaying over the curve of your ass. When he slips his tongue in your mouth, he tastes like a dizzying combination of nicotine and cheap beer.

But the taste somehow leaves you wanting more.

So when you start to grind yourself onto his jean-clad thigh, he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. The male fully enjoys the pitiful whimper it pulls from you.

“If you think I’m fucking you out here… you’re out of your goddamn mind,” he pants into your open mouth.

“Well if you had somewhere else in mind maybe you should try taking the reins, hotshot,” you fire back.

Eddie takes a single step up the stairs to place himself at eye level with you, as if to even the playing field. 

And you just stare at each other, both your eyes are ablaze with a mixture of annoyance and lust. It's Eddie who eventually breaks your gaze to brush past you and continue on towards the house.

He dares a glance over his shoulder once he reaches the patio door, a brow rising beneath his bangs as if to give you one final chance to back out. But you don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

No one spares either of you a second glance when he leads you up the stairs and pulls you into the first bedroom on the right. 

You know upon entering that this is Steve’s room, recognizing the checkered wallpaper from the weekend prior. But you don’t have much time to dwell on it before his lips are back on yours and he’s leading you towards his best friend’s bed.

“In here?” you say between heated kisses, earning you a deep hum when he pushes you down onto the mattress.

“What Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?” he mused, dark eyes admiring the way your skirt has risen up your thighs. “Unless… you really wanna make him jealous.” 

Eddie crawls over you after shrugging off his leather jacket and you can already feel how hard he is through the rough denim. You tug harshly on his hair when his lips trail down across your neck, teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat.

But the ache between your thighs only becomes stronger with each press of his lips, and in turn causes your already thin patience to slip further.

“Get on with it already, I don’t have all damn night.”

You can feel his laughter vibrate against your sweaty skin but his hand dips between your thighs nonetheless. Eddie cups your clothed pussy in the palm of his hand, pulling a breathy whine from you when he presses the heel of it against your clit.

“Hmm, givin' an awful lot of attitude to someone who's just tryin’ to do you a favor, sweetheart.”

You merely roll your eyes in response, reaching between your bodies to palm over the bulge that’s straining against the fly of his jeans.

“Huh, seems to me that you like my little attitude, asshole.”

The male groans into your neck when you apply more pressure, his hand quickly gripping onto your wrist before he pins the both of them above your head.

“Ya’know I usually love a bit of a challenge, but you sweetheart, are a giant pain in the ass.”

You giggle mockingly, tilting your head at him with a slight pout, “Aww, Eddie— I didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”

If only you knew… 

That laughter morphs into a soft gasp when he yanks your panties down your thighs with his other hand. Those calloused fingers slipping between your slick folds to circle over your swollen bud.

His nose skims along the curve of your shoulder, greedily inhaling your perfume. Enjoying the way your body practically shudders beneath his own.

“So sensitive…” he coos mockingly, the tip of his middle finger brushing over your puckered hole. “And I’ve barely even touched you yet.”

Any snarky comment dies on your tongue when he slips the digit inside, his thumb pressing firmly on your clit. A small mewl gets caught in your throat when he slides another finger in and your body welcomes the stretch.

Eddie can only grin wider when you grind your hips down onto his fingers, his other hand releases your wrists to tug down the front of your blouse to free your breasts. He has to hold back a moan of his own when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra, his lips latching around your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, your fingers tangling themselves in his wild mane while his curl up inside you.

“If only Steve could see how much of a fucking mess you’re making for me,” he taunts, leaning his mouth down to suck on the underside of your breast. “Bet he’d be so pissed that you’re ruining his expensive sheets, sweetheart.”

Your answering whimper has him chuckling, urging him to thrust his fingers even faster inside you. Ultimately proving his point as you can feel the wetness dripping down your ass and onto the sheets. But the noisy glide of his fingers are nearly as taunting as his words.

“E-Eddie— I…” your chest heaves as you trail off, feeling that rubber band in your middle about to snap with each pump of his fingers.

He knows what that blissful look on your face means and it brings him a little too much pleasure to see it crumble when he completely removes his fingers from inside you. Your cry of frustration has his cock practically throbbing in his jeans, sticky fingers hurrying to unbuckle his belt.

“Nah uh,” he tuts. “You don’t always get what you want, brat.”

Eddie pushes his jeans and boxers far enough down his thighs to free his cock, the sight of it momentarily distracting you.

He was big, much bigger than you anticipated.

Part of you was almost worried he wasn’t going to fit. Eddie must see the mixture of surprise and awe written across your features, as he leans forward to swipe his thumb along the corner of your mouth.

“Drooling already? You flatter me, sweetheart.”

He reaches over for a condom in Steve’s bedside drawer, ripping the packet open with his teeth. But Eddie can practically see the flash of disappointment in your eyes when he rolls the latex on, which only causes him to laugh harder.

“Oh how cute, you thought I was gonna fill you up, baby?” he all but sneers as he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “A slut like you has to earn that privilege.”

He lets go of your cheeks, ringed fingers spreading your thighs apart and pulling you down toward the edge of the mattress. Positioning you in just the right spot so he can tap the head of his cock against your clit.

The wet slapping noise it makes has him grinning even wider and it takes everything in you not to slap that look right off his face.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna actually fuck me?” you huff.

He tilts his head at you, a little surprised by your sudden outburst. And to think you were being so good just a minute ago.

“See, that’s not what we’re going to do, brat.” He clicks his tongue, his other hand gripping the meat of your thighs a little harder. “Keep giving me that attitude and I’ll have no issue walking out of here and burying my cock into someone else.”

You just glare at each other, in a silent struggle for power. But this time you are the first to crack when you cast your eyes downward. That uncomfortable silence stretches on for a moment too long, which he mistakes for regret. 

He’s about to tuck himself back into his jeans when you grip onto his wrist with a soft whine.

“N-No, shit— please don’t go.”

Eddie just raises an eyebrow at you, not impressed by that meek attempt at begging. So you blow out the breath you were holding, swallowing your pride when your eyes flick up to meet his.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie. Please.”

You feel incredibly pathetic begging Eddie Munson of all people. But you also can’t deny the way your cunt practically throbs when you feel the thick head of his cock glide against your entrance.

“See? Now was that so hard?” he snickers, giving you no warning before he’s guiding the head inside your sopping cunt.

“Jesus— fuck, you’re tight,” he blurts, marveling as your pussy practically sucks him in. 

You let out a gasp when he bottoms out with a low hiss, his own head tipping backwards when you clench harder around him. But the male doesn’t move a muscle, his hands gripping onto your hips to keep you in place.

An act of mercy really— he doesn’t want to hurt you.

While you are grateful for the reprieve, that slight sting soon fades into a dull ache and you desperately need more.

When Eddie feels you start to squirm in his grasp, he groans low in his throat. His head tips back down to meet your half lidded gaze while he carefully guides his cock out before sliding it back in.

He works up a steady rhythm, but slow enough to keep you both teetering on the edge of desperation— until you can’t take it anymore.

“God— go faster,” your attempt at a direct order comes out as more a breathy plea instead.

But he doesn’t need to be told twice, his hands coaxing your trembling legs over his shoulders before slamming his hips back into yours. An elated moan leaves your lips, fingers gripping onto the sheets as you eagerly meet each hard thrust he gives you.

“It’s too bad Harrington’s missin’ out on all this,” he grunts, his eyes darkening as he watches that creamy ring around his cock expand with each snap of his hips. “But I can put in a really good word for ya, princess.”

And when your eyes roll back, it’s not from annoyance this time— as he hits your sweet spot dead on.

“I hate you,” you huff regardless, but your words don’t hold nearly as much malice. 

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” 

You miss the smug look that crosses his features when your back arches up off the mattress and you cry out his name repeatedly.

“That’s it, brat— say my name louder. Let them know… let Steve know who’s making you feel this good.” 

Your nails dig into his forearms as he fucks you even faster, a low growl pushing past his lips with each hard thrust. The bed creaks harshly in protest but that doesn’t deter him in the slightest.

If anything— it encourages him to go harder, bucking into you like some wild animal. The little uh, uh uh’s that he pushes out of you are music to his ears, the sounds becoming higher in pitch the closer you get to the edge.

And when your eyes flutter shut, he only quickened his pace. The brunette practically bends you in half as he leans into you, this new angle forcing him even deeper.

“Look.” Grunt. “At.” Grunt. “Me.” Grunt.

In your blissed out state, you miss the hidden meaning behind his pointed words. 

When you manage to finally open them, he’s closer. A lot closer than you expected. So close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the sweat that dots his upper lip. 

Maybe you’ve never wanted to admit it to yourself before, but Eddie really was gorgeous. And from the way he’s gazing down at you, pupils blown out and glassy, you can only assume he feels the same about you. 

And that last bit of self control slips when you smash your lips together.

He kisses you back just as forcefully, effectively stealing the air from your lungs. Gasping for breath, your fingers begin to loosen their grip on his arm. Slipping them between your bodies to rub quick circles over your swollen bud. 

The sensation has your walls squeezing tighter around him, earning you another throaty moan. 

“See how much easier you are to deal with like this, baby?” He mumbles against your mouth, enjoying the small scowl that crosses over your features. “All cockdrunk and stupid… it suits you.” 

While you open your mouth to throw one last insult his way, a pointed thrust into your sweet spot has you trembling. A loud squeal leaving your lips instead when you tumble over the edge. 

And Eddie can’t take his eyes off you as you fall apart beneath him, memorizing each expression with the utmost sincerity. Even if you did hate him, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Oh, atta girl…” he praises, his hot breath fanning over your lips while he continues to bury himself inside you.

You feel the sudden snap of the latex before he does. The male blissfully unaware as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and finishes with a deep groan, unintentionally filling you up in the process.

“Hm, guess I got what I wanted after all,” you laugh a little breathlessly. 

Eddie lifts his head in confusion, the realization finally dawns on him when he feels his warmth start to trickle down your thighs. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” He curses as he pulls out, making an even bigger mess of both you and the sheets in the process. 

“Stupid, fucking cheap ass condoms,” he huffs under his breath, chucking the broken rubber into the trash. 

Although his jaw is clenched in annoyance, his eyes are now transfixed on where his cum begins to leak out of your puffy pussy and onto the bedspread.

Unable to stop himself, Eddie reaches out a hand to graze along the underside of your ass. He collects some of the mess on his fingertips and guides them back inside you.

And despite the sensitivity, the possessiveness of his actions has your walls clenching around his dexterous fingers.

Everything comes to a sudden halt when the bedroom door swings open, knocking into the wall.

“Alright you horny shits, time to…” Steve trails off once he sees the two of you, honey hues widening in disbelief. “In my bed, Munson? Really?” 

Eddie doesn’t bat an eye, merely straightening up from where he was hovering over your half naked form whilst you quickly tug the sheets over yourself from sheer embarrassment.

Now all Eddie can see is the way you're looking at Steve. Something sour settles in his stomach, a tangle of jealousy and hurt. While his heart rate slows, his defenses go back up. 

That feeling prickles along his skin as he tucks himself back into his boxers and re-fastens the button on his jeans. 

"Was just warmin' her up for ya, man," Eddie says through his teeth. 

Steve's look of confusion deepens as he glances between the two of you, knowing that this is exactly what Eddie had wanted. 

But now Eddie won’t even look at you. 

He doesn't see the conflicted emotions swimming in your eyes when he speaks again. Throwing the words over his shoulder without a second glance as he grabs his jacket and turns to leave. 

"She's all yours, Harrington." 

That lie burns on his tongue like acid, but he doesn't look back.

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