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uniquethingtastemaker · 2 days ago

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Jade x Reader – Commit to the Bit

Summary: After escaping Scarabia and crash-landing in Monstro Lounge during Chapter 4, you form a deeper relationship with Octavinelle’s vice leader. The Reader’s bold moves pique Jade’s interest. The two are equally committed to keeping up their acts to maximize the most hilarious reactions from their friends. No matter how big the trick is they always “Commit to the Bit,” and some pranks turn into fact instead of a facade.

Word Count: 12.5k+

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @solxamber. I told her my idea and she became invested. It pushed me to finish this. Somehow it’s turned into this monster of a piece. I had a splendid time with this. Please comment and enjoy!

Tags: @marsinrain @solxamber idk who else to tag lol

You and Grim scream at the top of your lungs as Kalim’s flying carpet rockets past different sceneries. You hear Scarabia students shouting after you. However, no human is a match for an out-of-control, speeding carpet.

“We’re gonna hit the mirror!!” Grim shrieks.

You grip your companion as you fly through. You know you won’t slam into glass but you also don’t know where you’ll land. The two of you exit the hot desert and are flung into darkness. With no ability to see or steer, you crash into something.

You groan. Thankfully you landed on something soft. It feels like a couch.

“Grim, are you ok?” You call out.

The cat whines, “No, but I’m alive.”

“It’s better than being tortured and imprisoned in Hellabia,” you comment, before asking. “Where are we?”

Lights flick on. You wince, shielding from the unexpected brightness. A distinct voice echoes out.

“Oya, I was wondering who would be here at this time of night.”

Your head snaps up to see the tweels. A twinkle glitters in your eyes.

“Oh, thank god, it’s someone menacing!” you exclaim, “Plus, you’re in debt to us for stopping Azul’s overblot and you’ll find our situation interesting.”

You watch Jade’s eyes widen at your rapid-fire enthusiasm. Even Floyd seems momentarily lost for words. It’s not unexpected. Every time you’ve interacted with the trio, you’ve been reserved. The group seemed more trouble than they were worth. While you gravitate to interesting circumstances and people, you’ve been entertained by the overblots. It didn’t seem necessary to seek out the tweel tricksters and their con artist boss. However, your circumstances have changed.

You want revenge on Scarabia and you've fallen right into the perfect predator’s lap. This trio is vindictive and vicious. They like throwing people off for fun. They’re exactly what you need.

You haven’t sought vengeance on the other overblot students because you haven’t been directly involved. If you were, you knew you could get out of it. It was another riveting problem you needed to solve. You weren’t affected by Riddle. You don’t have magic and you’re not in Heartslabyul. For Leona, you can’t play Magical Shift. Ruggie’s magic didn’t hurt you. You didn’t make a terrible deal with Azul. You just had to get your dumb friends out of a bad situation lest you die of complaints. You weren’t worried about Ramshackle, because you had the skill to get it back. You were the one who planned Azul’s ultimate demise after all. With Scarabia though, they put you through torture. They forced you to walk across the desert. They caught you multiple times trying to escape and you’re not letting that go.

Therefore, you’re throwing away all pretenses to recruit these slippery fish folk. If anyone would be on board this ship, it would be the Octavinelle trio.

You barrel on, summarizing. “We just escaped Scarabia prison. They kidnapped us, locked us up for over a week, and forced us into inhuman slavery with the excuse of “training!” Plus, a coup is about to happen. Something’s fishy and it’s not you.”

You get up, walking toward the twin, bubbling in excitement. Before either of them can respond, another person speaks up. It’s the languid and steady voice of a businessman.

“A coup?” Azul inquires.

You glance at him and nod.

“The Scarabia students aren’t happy with Kalim’s treatment. They want Jamil to usurp him,” you briefly explain, before adding. “You know why that’s strange.”

The dorm leader gives a thoughtful hum before a group of Scarabia students burst through the door.

“We found you, thieves! There’s nowhere to run now,” one of them declares.

You step closer to Jade and retort, “Wrongful imprisonment and mistreatment of workers is a crime. We took dire measures to escape. Grim and I aren’t a part of your dorm. Jamil invited us. If you were good hosts, you’d respect the wishes of your guests and let them leave when they become uncomfortable. I have video evidence.”

The last part was a lie, but you wanted to provoke them. You pull out your phone and wave it around. You’re curious to see how the twins will react.

One hot-blooded student lunges for your device. You “yelp,” jumping behind the quieter twin. In a flash, Jade has their wrist in a crushing hold.

“When it comes to recording illegal activity, as long as the person recording does not interfere, it’s submissible in court,” Jade dictates in a smooth and steady voice.

His eyes narrow in delight as his victim’s hand turns blue due to lack of circulation. The student pales.

Another boy argues, “They stole Kalim’s magic carpet. Theft is a crime too.”

“Besides, this isn’t any of your business! Back off,” someone else interjects.

There’s a collective agreement when Azul cuts in.

“Based on the prefect’s testimony, we’ve offered them sanctuary. Until we’ve investigated this matter, Octavinelle will keep Kalim’s magic carpet,” the dorm leader details before giving a deadly smile, “For now, you’re in our territory. I’ll kindly ask you to leave. If you don’t do it willingly, I have no problem forcing you.”

One of the students grits his teeth and barks, “They stole Kalim’s carpet! Do you know how precious it is?”

You speak up, ��Yes, and because Octavinelle is sheltering us, they’ll want to ensure his carpet is returned in pristine condition. It would be embarrassing if there were any blemishes they didn’t catch. They’re incredibly benevolent and would want to compensate Kalim.”

You’re about to reassure them you’ll give it back tomorrow when you notice something. Your crash landing destroyed some tables. Azul would never let that go. You change your goal and escalate the situation.

“Although, it is pathetic that there are so many of you and you’re scared of two people, a magicless student, and their cat. Your attitudes are a reflection of your dorm. Perhaps, you deserve the grueling treatment Kalim subjects you to. Maybe you can learn how to be mentally stronger,” you taunt.

It has the desired effect. The Scarabia students attack. You grin and snatch the carpet. Before you move, you see Grim lining up to fire. You pick him up by the scruff of his neck and slide up to Azul.

“Why are you taking me away?” Grim cries, kicking the air. “I want to fight too!”

“If you attack them, we’re at a disadvantage. They could claim we used force as well. It’s better to let the tweels handle it,” you reply, before whispering in his flaming ear. “I don’t fancy paying Octavinelle for property damage. If you don’t want to become fish food, keep quiet.”

Grim squeaks and nods. You place him down, pat his head, and watch the battle. The place becomes a mess. Your initial damages blend in with the landscape.

You’ve always admired the twins’ fighting style. They get up close and personal, bashing people into walls and tables. The combination of physical power and magical prowess is unique, effective, and intimidating. It sends people running.

“You should bill Kalim for compensation,” you suggest to Azul, “He’s their dorm leader. It’s supposedly on his orders that Grim and I were held hostage.”

The man grits his teeth, “You intentionally provoked them. We won’t get any money if the carpet is damaged.”

“It’s not. We can check now,” you reassure.

You turn and walk to the bar. You smirk to yourself. He didn’t notice your crash-landing. You distracted him with the potential coup and later the Scarabia mob blocked his line of sight. Now, you’re off the hook.

You lay the magic carpet on the counter.

“Carpet, are you hurt in any way?” You question.

The animated object’s tassels shake a no.

You request, “Perfect. Just in case, can we look over you?”

It moves its tassels up and down and flops onto the counter. You laugh at the action. Pulling out your phone flashlight, you ensure there are no imperfections. A scream and snap resound behind you. You and Azul ignore it. Floyd cackles with a crazed edge and a sinister chuckle comes from Jade.

You feel Grim press against your leg. Glancing down, you grab him and put him on a bar stool. You ask the carpet to flip itself so you can inspect the back more closely.

“This is incredible quality,” Azul states, running his fingers across the fabric.

You can practically hear the money signs in his voice.

You roll your eyes. “Do you doubt the Al-Asim’s wealth?”

“No! I’m just admiring the business opportunity,” he answers.

Something thuds beside you. You look down to find a struggling Scarabia student on the floor. You stare. You’ve covered up your part of the crime and it’s illegal for them to trespass on private property. You deem it fine to enact violence before slamming your foot into his face.

The student yells, clutching his broken nose. You kick him a few feet away. Once he’s out of range, you casually turn back to the Octavinelle house warden.

“You said you were providing us sanctuary. I expect you to uphold your statement,” you tell him.

The sophomore stares at you with an open mouth. You continue the conversation for him.

“If you can’t tell, I’d like to get revenge on these people. In addition, this is good for you. If we figure out what’s wrong with Kalim, he’ll owe you a debt. Your bodyguards will be invested because it causes chaos. There’s no down–”

A hand brushes your ankle.

You pin it under your foot before the perpetrator latches on. You slowly turn your gaze to the ground. It’s the scum you left a shoe imprint on. How cute.

You give a soft smile and swivel your heel into his hand. There are a few cracks.

“Did you know that there are 27 bones in the human hand?” you ask, leaning down. “That’s about one-quarter of all the bones in your body. They’re also some of the most painful to break because they have the most nerve endings. It’s been used as a torture method to get people to confess.”

The teenager’s free hand shoots out to grab your other ankle. A deadly spark flickers in your eyes. You snatch the extremity and extend it above his body until you hear a pop. His shoulder dislocates. You send another warm smile. It’s so out of place, it’s uncanny.

“You haven’t learned your lesson, have you? That’s ok. I’m a great tutor. Carpet, please move away from me and the fight,” you request.

You watch the magic item fly away and turn back to the Scarabia member.

“For the record, Kalim sent you, correct? I must ensure Azul sends the bill to the right person. I don’t want to be liable for any damages to the Monstro Lounge,” you explain condescendingly.

Instead of answering, your victim spits at you. Your eyes widen. You keep your calm and sweet expression.

“You just signed your ticket to hell,” you sing before stomping his groin.

You use his moment of vulnerability to yank him up. You open his jaw, place it on the edge of the bar, and crack your elbow over his head. Controlling your strength, you make sure he only breaks some teeth. You don’t want to kill him.

“Woaaah! Shrimpy's got some moves!” Floyd cries behind you.

You flash a brilliant grin. Jade looks at you with wide eyes before narrowing into a thrilled shimmer. They’ve dealt with the students on their side. Everyone watches you, so you put on a show.

Pulling your victim off the counter, you throw him onto a nearby seat. You pluck the magic pen off him and toss it to Grim.

“Now you can experience what it’s like to be a magicless student,” you comment, rummaging through his pockets. “Although, you got beat up by me despite having magic. It’s quite embarrassing.”

The boy is too terrified to stop you. You remove his wallet and flip through the different cards he has.

“In addition to losing against me, you lost Kalim’s carpet and—Ooh, a gift card.”

You pocket it and take out the wad of cash. You leave his ID and credit card. It’s more trouble than it’s worth to steal someone’s credit or debit card. If you use it, it can be tracked. On the other hand, gift cards and physical money are safe.

You continue, “You failed to recapture Grim and I. You should probably keep quiet for now and figure it out what to do in the morning. It’s late. Despite your injuries, you’ll have to walk through the desert tomorrow. You need all the sleep you can get. Hopefully, you have a medic on hand.”

After shaking the boy down you snatch his magical pen from your cat. You tuck it back into his shirt pocket and pat it.

“I’ll return this to you so people won’t question why you don’t have it. Be grateful for the small things.” You smile before shoving him out of his seat and onto the floor.

You toss the wallet on his limp body. After making sure there’s no blood on the bar stool, you replace him and cross your legs. When nobody moves, you glance at the mob.

“You should grab him before he bleeds out,” you suggest.

Two Scarabia students scurry up to help their fallen comrade and scuttle out the door.

Jade slides up beside you.

“That was impressive, [Y/N]. Where did you learn to fight like that?” The quieter twin asks.

Floyd grins, skipping over. “Shrimpy’s awesome! I haven’t seen anyone be that ruthless in a while.”

“My family taught me,” you shrug, before addressing Azul. “Do you have a room Grim and I can sleep in tonight?”

The octopus pushes his glasses up, regaining his composure from the intense shock.

The house warden answers, “No, we don’t, but—”

“--That’s fine. I’ll sleep with Jade.”

It takes a moment for the others to process your words. Azul is the first to react.

“WHAT?!?!” He screams.

Jade’s eyes blow wide as they look at you, stunned. Floyd’s voice is caught in his throat. It takes everything in you to keep a straight and innocent face. To distract yourself from laughing, you reach down to pick up Grim. You hold him out to Floyd.

“You can have Grim. He’s a great cuddler,” you tell him, before glancing at his twin. “You share a room, right?”

Jade slowly nods.

You bob your head and shove your cat into Floyd’s arms. Hopping off your seat, you grab the quieter eel.

“You’re ok with it, right?” you confirm.

The man looks torn between asking if you’re sure and agreeing for fun. Your decision to share a bed with a distant, borderline-deadly acquaintance is a wild and concerning move. You can tell he’s worried for your safety and sanity.

Azul interrupts, yelling, “You can sleep on the couch!”

“But I want to sleep on a bed,” you argue, before asking him. “Do you want to share with me?”

“Ew, no,” the octopus responds.

“Well, I’m not rooming with Floyd. Jade’s my best choice,” you say, “Let’s go. I’m tired and we have to get revenge in the morning.”

You drag the chosen twin out the door without waiting for anyone else.

From behind you, Floyd chortles, “Shimpy is bold! I guess you’re sleeping with me, Baby Seal.”

Grim cries out in distress.

Jade leads you to their bedroom. It’s obvious which section is his.

Walking over to his bed, you ask. “Do you have a preference on which side you sleep on?”

“No, I don’t.” The vice leader shakes his head.

Floyd busts in, clutching a dead-faced Grim.

“We’re having a sleepover,” he squeals, launching at you.

You slip behind Jade, but he dodges. Your eyes widen as the chaotic eel barrels toward you. You tackle the vice leader to avoid him.

Both of you fall on the bed as he lets out a surprised sound.

“Dogpile!” Floyd shouts.

He jumps and knocks the wind out of you. Grim screeches as he’s smooshed. The taller twin laughs and you can’t help but chuckle too. It turns into a full-blown cackle at the absurd situation. Factoring in your earlier stunt, you lose it.

You can’t breathe but it doesn’t stop you from wheezing, “Your faces when I said I’d sleep with Jade! You were so surprised. Azul’s reaction was gold. I had to fight so hard to keep a straight face, but it was worth it.”

You grip Jade’s shoulders, shaking. Tears begin streaming down your face. Your giggle fit continues as you shove Floyd off you. The Octavinelle student laughs alongside you and even Jade joins in.

Grim tries to stay silent, frowning, because you left him with Floyd. However, the air is too infectious. He can’t help but snicker too.

It takes a while before you can speak. You sigh as your laughter passes. You turn to Jade.

“Imma get ready for bed. I need all my energy to fulfill my retribution,” you state, sitting up. “Do you have an extra toothbrush and can I borrow some pajamas?”

Jade nods, standing up to fetch the requested items.

Floyd complains next to you. “I wanna stay up~!”

“We’re having a two-day sleepover. Maybe even more. We’re infiltrating Scarabia tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be too busy planning dastardly schemes to get much sleep anyway,” you reason.

The fictitious eel weighs his options before agreeing, “Ok! I still have Baby Seal to keep me company.”

Floyd grabs Grim and squeezes. Your cat squeaks and looks at you desperately. You turn away, feigning ignorance, as you take Jade’s pajamas and the extra toiletries.

“I’ll get you for this,” Grim promises, as Floyd takes him to his side of the room.

You look at the offered sleepwear. It’s a set of turquoise silk pajamas. You rub your thumb along it. They’re soft.

“Thank you,” you tell him, “I’ll be quick.”

After completing your nighttime routine, you slip back into the room. Heading to the light switch, you focus on Jade’s bed. Once you’ve mapped your path, you flick it off and dive. Crashing into his body, your bedmate lets out an “oof.”

“You’ve done that twice tonight. You can’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, amused.

“You’re interesting and like to mess with people. Why wouldn’t I want to be close to you?” you throw back.

He’s quiet as you climb over him, taking the space closest to the wall and furthest from Floyd. If the ball of eccentric energy attempts to approach you in your sleep, you can use his twin as a shield.

Once you settle in, the vice leader speaks up.

“I could strangle you in your sleep,” he threatens in a low voice.

You raise an amused eyebrow. “You could but you won’t.”

“Why do you think so?” Jade questions.

“I’m more entertaining alive than dead or hurt,” you answer with confidence.

Burrowing yourself into the covers, Jade hums. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”

“Maybe I’m just good at picking people,” you reply.

“You have strange tastes,” he responds.

“If I have strange tastes, then you’re a hypocrite,” you retort with a smile.

Turning toward the wall, you let sleep overtake you.

————————

You’re a light sleeper. Thankfully, you’re only interrupted a few times. It’s better than sharing a bed with Grim. Unlike your cat companion, Jade is still. However, there are moments when you regain consciousness.

You feel the Octavinelle student shift. He drapes an arm over your midsection, pulling you in. You feel his warmth against your back. Your breath catches as you try to calm your racing heart. Despite your previous bravo and nonchalant attitude, you feel attracted to the twin. You take deep breaths and concentrate on deciphering if Jade is asleep. It’s important for your analysis. After a few minutes, you conclude he is unconscious. You raise your eyebrows. That's a surprising and good sign.

The stunt you pulled was a test. You wanted to see if Jade would cross any boundaries. He’s a wild card. You’re certain Floyd would choose his whims over your needs. However, his twin was more restrained or at least clear-headed during social interactions.

Before committing to your romantic pursuit, you need to know if the other person respects you. It’s a key factor in a lasting relationship. You’re not interested in a fling. You want a long-term partner. Jade piques your interest and you want to know if he’s a good match. The sophomore passed the first test. In light of that, you reward him.

Gently flipping over, you nuzzle into his arms. The man is surprisingly warm. Before you drift into dreamland, you wonder if it’s an adaptation to the cold sea climate.

———————————

Warm arms leave your side. You groan, grabbing onto Jade’s shirt.

“What time is it?” you question, bleary-eyed.

“6:30,” Jade states, stopping his retreat.

It sounds like he’s been awake for a while. You revel in the fact he didn’t move your positions. It’s another positive mark. You don’t let on to your thoughts.

“It’s way too early, but Scarabia starts walking at 8,” you grumble, “It’s one more reason to get back at them. However, I want to look good while doing it. I need to give off an innocent vibe.”

Your voice is still ragged from sleep and you slink your arms around Jade.

“Innocent?” the vice leader questions, “After you tore through that poor soul?”

“I gotta plan,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest.

Jade stiffens before tentatively relaxing. You resist the urge to smirk. The eel is intuitive. You appreciate a quick-minded and observant individual. It looks like the Octavinelle student is insightful enough to know that you’re up to something and to follow your lead.

You continue, complaining, “I don’t wanna get up.”

You keep it down, not wanting to wake up Floyd. Thinking about the room's other occupants, you peek past Jade to see the other bed.

Floyd is sprawled out with the sheets half kicked off him. Grim lies on his chest fast asleep. You smirk. You have to take a picture of this, but the bed and Jade are comfy.

You huff and scrunch your nose. Taking a breath of fortitude, you give your snuggle buddy one last squeeze, before slinging yourself over him. With the grace of a cat, you avoid getting caught in the covers and place your feet on the floor in silence.

Unbeknownst to you, your chosen eel follows your figure with the eyes of a predator.

Walking over to grab your phone, you pad to the left side of the room. You ensure the ringer is silenced before taking multiple pictures of the cute duo. When you turn back to Octavinelle’s vice leader, he’s half sitting up, gazing with a smirk.

The teenager’s hair sticks up all over the place. You turn the camera to him and snap a photo. A smile is still plastered on his face but his head tilts, planning payback. You roll your eyes. You’re not interested in being a victim of the twin’s antics yet. Plopping beside him, you grab his shoulder and pull him closer. You flip the camera to selfie mode and take photos of you and the eel. There’s a soft smile on your face and an entertained smirk on Jade’s. Both of you look equally ridiculous and disheveled.

“Now we’re even,” you whisper, “What’s your phone number? I don’t want you to think I’m holding this hostage. It’s only fair you have them too.”

Jade raises his eyebrows, impressed by your smooth way of getting his number. He enters his contact info into your device and hands it back. With a few taps, you send him the captured memories.

“We should get ready,” you sigh.

“Indeed. Although, I don’t know how you’re going to pull off an innocent look,” he comments, smirking.

—--------------

The Octavinelle trio, the Ramshackle duo, and the magic carpet enter Scarabia. The five humanoids are blasted by hot air.

Floyd laments, “It feels like the middle of summer. I’m going to dry out at this rate.”

You perk up, curious.

“Are your body temperatures higher than regular humans because you all live in a colder climate?” you question.

Azul turns to you, surprised.

“Yes, we do. How do you know?” he replies.

You focus on maintaining a straight face. Out of everyone’s reactions last night, Azul’s was the most entertaining.

“Jade was incredibly warm when we cuddled,” you reveal.

The businessman’s eyes bulge out and he coughs. You clench your teeth, resisting the urge to laugh. The gentlemanly twin is unable to resist and enhances your performance.

He puts an arm around your waist and confirms, “They were rather cool, so it didn’t bother me. Their hair also smells nice. It’s a mix of [whatever scent you like, but it’s very specific. Weirdly specific].”

You’re torn between being flattered, concerned about how descriptive he is, and laughing at the fantastic response. The Octavinelle dorm leader stares at the two of you horrified and wary. Floyd gleefully cackles beside you.

“Jade is down bad, and Shrimpy is making the moves~! No wonder Azul’s terrified. He just gained another of us,” the chaotic twin crows, bumping into you.

Floyd throws an arm around your shoulder. The twins squish you on either side. They tower above you with mischievous and deadly smiles.

“I hope you’re not leaving anytime soon. You’re too interesting and my brother likes you,” the basketball player sings, “If you try to escape, I’ll have to squeeze ya.”

You smirk back, looping your arms around their backs. You pull them in. They lean down, excited by the impromptu team huddle.

“You’re much more fun to work with than I thought. As long as we’re all in agreement, I’ll stick around as long as you like. Besides, Azul’s reactions are more than enough to get me to stay,” you say.

You gesture at the lone Octavinelle sophomore. His eyebrows scrunch, attempting to factor your brand of insanity into his plans. The house warden notices your gazes and glares at the three of you.

He pushes up his glasses and declares, “We have a coup to stop, business deals to make, and a mystery to solve. Let’s get going.”

The octopus spins on his heels and stalks forward. The eels and you straighten to attention, falling into your roles. As you walk closer to the elaborate building, Azul relaxes into his usual over-the-top attitude. He glances behind and finds perfect and docile assistants. You hear a sigh of relief.

Eventually, you’re close enough to hear the Scarabia students from last night’s fight. They took your advice and haven’t told anyone. Putting on your best acting face, you pretend to look at the Leech twins in fear. There’s a mirthful sparkle in Jade’s eye and Floyd is ecstatic to see what will happen. Without waiting, he shoves you forward.

“Go and tell them what you need to, Shrimpy,” the embodiment of chaos elogates.

His voice catches the residents’ attention. They stiffen at the sight of your quartet. You make your body small and unthreatening. You put your arms close to your chest, strengthening the effect. You spare the school mafia one more hesitant glance.

Floyd urges you in a threatening tone, “Tell them what you need to and make it quick.”

He puts a hand on his other shoulder, tilting his head. He wears the disconcerting expression of a wild predator about to snap.

“Be grateful we’re allowing you to do this much,” Jade chimes in with a similar grin.

You hurry to the beat-up students and start apologizing.

“I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday. I was scared you would take Grim and me. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. The person I should be mad at is the one making you do these inhuman acts. However, I can’t help but feel there’s something wrong with Kalim. He’s usually so outgoing and kind,” you start.

“I want to help your dorm. I need to make up for what I did and leaving you all to endure this torture isn’t right. As someone who experienced it first-hand, I want to stop this. However, I paid a heavy price to get some help,” you lie.

You slightly gesture to the Octavinelle trio. Based on the Scarabia students’ expressions, the mobsters are as intimidating as ever.

You plead your case, “I’m getting Azul and the twins to help me investigate, but we need to make sure our cover isn’t blown. Please pretend you didn’t see anything last night.”

You give a strained smile before pulling out a healing potion and presenting it to the student you hurt.

You bow. “Again, I’m sorry. Please accept this as part of my apology.”

Your ploy works like spreading hot butter on toast.

“We’ll keep quiet,” one of them assures, “Thank you for helping. You’re doing everyone a favor. There are no hard feelings about your attack.”

“Now that you mention it, you were the one who helped solve the incident in Heartslabyul,” another points out.

“Oh my god, they were! Didn’t they also solve the slavery issue in Octavinelle too?” someone asks.

“That must be where they became in debt to them,” one individual surmises.

They rally around you, buying into your lie and creating a story for you. They believe you’re a saint sent from the heavens. They don’t doubt your intentions at all.

“If you need anything, let us know. We’ll support you to the best of our abilities,” the last reassures.

You give a shaky and appreciative smile. “Thank you. I have one request. If something weird happens between the Octavinelle trio and me, it’s all part of the plan. I ask that you not to give anything away or oppose what’s happening.”

The Scarabia students immediately agree when Azul cuts in.

“[Y/N], we need to find Kalim,” he dictates.

You pretend to jump. You wave to your new followers and scramble back to your party. When you turn your back to the fools, you smirk at your fellow tricksters. Jade sends an approving nod as Floyd gives a joyful grin.

A familiar voice comes around the corner.

“It’s almost time for morning training,” Jamil warns, “Kalim will lose it if you’re la—”

The vice leader stops upon seeing the out-of-place sea folk. He narrows his eyes. Before he can say anything, Azul gives a signature business greeting.

“Jamil! Good morning. How are you on such a fine day?” he questions with a lavishing voice.

The Scarabia vice leader stares with a slightly annoyed and skeptical frown.

“Azul Ashengrotten with the Leech Twins,” he addresses, before asking. “What are you doing here?”

You speak up, “I brought them.”

Jamil furrows his brows. “Why?”

You move, allowing him to see Grim and the magic carpet. The brunette’s eyes grow wide.

“The magic carpet escaped. Grim and I were able to grab it just before it took off. However, it ended up dragging us through the mirror and into Octavinelle. They insisted we stay the night and return it together,” you start.

Azul seamlessly takes the baton and continues, “We want to personally deliver it to Kalim. It’s a national treasure. If someone were to find fault with it and claim it was Octavinelle’s fault, I’d have no end of trouble.”

Jamil purses his lips. “Kalim doesn’t care about something like that. You can give it–”

“--There’s no need for you to pay the 20% labor fee for returning a lost item,” the dorm leader adds.

The whole crew chips in.

“We heard about your training and wanted to talk to Kalim about it,” Jade comments.

“We also brought seafood pizza,” Floyd drawls with a grin.

“And snacks!” Grim adds.

“Anyway, I’d like to hand this to him directly. I assume he’s awake?” Azul finishes.

After being pelted with rapid-fire statements, Jamil closes his eyes and denies the request again.

“I’m telling you he’s in a bad—Hey! You can’t just walk in here!“

Azul strides past the protesting Scarabia student. Your party follows the Octavinelle leader inside.

—----------------

“The Ramshackle Prefect informed us you’re training over the winter holidays. The three of us happen to be stuck at school too. Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to deepen Octavinelle and Scarabia’s bonds through joint training?” Azul suggests to Kalim.

The sunshine student lights up. “That sounds like a great idea! I’d love to have you over!”

Jamil cuts in with a harsh voice.

“I’m against it. Octavinelle is a rival dorm. It would put us at a disadvantage if we let the enemy come in and learn our tricks,” he advises, crossing his arms.

The wealthy teen looks at his subordinate with a relaxed grin.

“‘Enemy’ is a bit much. Besides, didn’t you invite the Ramshackle dorm?” the sophomore points out.

Jamil purses his lips.

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, before turning a stern glare onto the mafia trio. “I’m saying this for you as well, Azul. I know how much you value your grades.”

The businessman sighs, looking downcast. “I suppose you’re right. We should make our way back. Good luck with your training.”

The three of them turn around solemnly. You know what the next step of the plan is. They’re going to make themselves look pitiful. However, that wouldn’t be any fun. You can’t wait to see Azul’s facial expression to your next surprise.

“Wait!” You stop them in a heartfelt tone.

The trio glances at you, but you’re already looking at Kalim. You have a pleading expression.

“Kalim, I’m determined to stay here until the end of winter break. Grim and I were thrilled whenever Jamil invited us. We are often stuck alone in our dorm, isolated. Scarabia is so lively and we’ve made great friends. We want to foster those connections, but…” you trail off.

You mentally steel yourself and look at Jade. In your peripheral vision, you watch Azul stiffen and clench his teeth. Floyd gives the widest grin you’ve ever seen and Jade stares in amusement.

“I miss my boyfriend,” you finish.

You barely save yourself from laughing by breaking eye contact with Octavinelle’s vice leader.

You continue, rambling. “It’s ok if you can’t allow that–”

“No!” Kalim shouts, “I cannot break up a couple like this! Azul is one of the best mages at this school. If we let them stay, Scarabia will benefit. I’d sully the Al-Asim name if I turned you all away. Plus, I have to know how you got together.”

Jamil is too stunned to retort. There’s a brief moment of silence where typically Azul would speak up. However, he’s too busy containing his rage and annoyance to do anything.

Jade replies, heading over to your side. “Kalim, thank you. I’ve missed my significant other dearly during this time. You’ve done us a great favor.”

Azul gets his wits about him and puts on a business smile. It’s slightly taut, but he retains his drama and butters up the wealthy student.

“Yes, you are a truly kind and warm-hearted person! I will teach you everything I know,” he promises.

“Floyd and I are happy to assist with any cooking and cleaning,” Jade adds, snaking his arm around your waist.

You catch Azul glaring at the action before covering it with an elegant smile.

Floyd chips in. “Yeah, we’re old pros from working at the Lounge.”

“That’ll be a great help! Jamil won’t have as much work anymore. He already does so much for me,” the embodiment of sunshine beams.

Jamil speaks up with a calculated expression.

“I don’t need any help, but I didn’t know you were together. When did you start dating?” the vice leader drawls.

“I want to know too! You have to tell us everything!” Kalim jumps in.

He urges your party to sit. You move in tandem with your “boyfriend.” Sitting close together, Jade puts a hand behind you and leans into your figure. You copy his behavior and rest yourself on his shoulder. The Scarabia house warden squeals at your intimate position while Jamil narrows his eyes, skeptical.

On Jade’s left is a smug Floyd. He looks at Jamil with a confident smirk. He knows the two of you won’t break. Next to him, Azul regrets his life choices and plots to kill the two of you in private.

“How did you get together?” Kalim questions with twinkling eyes.

Jade chuckles, “I caught an interest in the prefect after Azul’s overblot. They were the mastermind behind his demise and I had to learn more. I ended up finding them in the greenhouse one day. We were both looking for the same ingredients for potions class. They asked me a few questions and I mentioned my terrariums. They were more enthusiastic than I expected, so I showed my hobby to them. [Y/N] wanted to help. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, so we spent time together. We bonded over shared interests.”

Jamil interrupts, “I can’t see you dating just because of plants. What other interests do you share? The two of you are quite different.”

Jade hums, placing his head on top of yours. You take the hint and nuzzle into him.

“You’re right. We do enjoy more physical activities.”

Azul squawks, his glasses going askew. Floyd cackles, clapping. Grim glances at you with a complicated and borderline disgusted expression. Jamil’s mouth falls open at the bold choice and Kalim fanboys.

You scoff, lightly smacking your chosen eel. “You didn’t have to admit that.”

“I know you like it,” he replies.

Kalim continues the interview. “Jade, what do you like most about [Y/N]?”

He gives a thoughtful look.

“They’re unassuming at first glance, but they’re an incredible strategist and tactician. They’re unpredictable,” he details.

Jamil hums, “So that’s why you’re interested.”

He turns to you and provokes, “I suggest you don’t place all your hopes and dreams on him. You’re just a passing fancy.”

Your eyes widen, genuinely offended. Jade grips your midsection and wraps his other arm across your torso. He keeps his ever-present smile, but it has a deadly edge. You lean into him.

Jade responds for both of you.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” he comments, before turning to you. “I want to know what you find attractive about me.”

A silent understanding passes between the two of you. You want to distract Kalim from Jamil’s comment. The Scarabia vice leader is testing you, but you want to smooth this over.

In the back of your mind, you think that this dating simulation is going well. You’ll have to continue it for a few more days to gain significant data. However, the odds tilt in Jade’s favor.

“You’re rather gentlemanly,” you start, before glancing at him.

You let your eyes wander his face, before going in for the kill. You make sure everyone in the room knows what you’re doing. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. It lingers for a long time. You tear your focus away and look at Kalim.

“More importantly, he’s interesting. He likes to go along with my plans and I have fun with him,” you say, before adding. “His teeth are just a bonus.”

Azul jerks forward, having been metaphorically K.O.ed. He glares holes into both of you. You smirk. The businessman’s eyes widen, disturbed.

You furrow your eyebrows. The sunshine child explains what happened, clapping his hands.

“The two of you are in sync! You made the same facial expression at Azul. You’re fated to be together!” he praises.

You look at your partner with a satisfied grin. The Scarabia vice leader interjects again, displeased.

“[Y/N] is fairly open. Was there any reason you hid your relationship?” he interrogates.

You’ve been waiting for the question.

“Yes,” you sigh, “We thought Azul would disapprove. I was the one who planned his downfall after all. Unfortunately, we were right about his reaction.”

The Octavinelle leader whips toward you, his mouth open and his eyes filled with fire. You ignore him, continuing.

“It all came out last night. Floyd caught us making out. We tried to stop him from telling Azul, but you know Floyd,” you say, giving a helpless smile. “I’m glad you allowed them to stay, Kalim. I worried Jade might get berated if I didn’t return with him. Thank you. We appreciate it.”

“Anytime!” the Scarabia student waves you off.

The businessman cuts in to defend his honor.

“To be fair, I’m mostly shocked by your union,” he states, pushing up his glasses. “I just need time to process. I’ll get used to this new normal eventually.”

Kalim cheers, “I’m glad Azul is coming around!”

The sophomore in question scowls. From the corner of your eye, Jamil frowns. The vice leader doesn’t believe you and that’s fine. He won’t catch you or Jade slipping up.

—---------------

You continue the fake relationship for that day, avoiding Jamil’s attempts to prove your lie. That night, Azul almost strangles all of you for the stunt you pulled. You’re quick to distract him. Eventually, Jade and you find the culprit behind Kalim’s “mood swings.” From there, the five of you plan.

—--------------

You walk with Azul and Grim to Kalim’s bedroom. It’s early in the morning. You want to wake him before his vice leader does.

Azul stops and looks at you. He searches your eyes with a neutral and serious face.

“Are you playing with him?” he questions.

You tilt your head with a smile.

You shake your head. “I’m not, but it’s pretty cute you’re worried.”

The businessman crosses his arms, giving a light glare.

“I don’t want my best asset to decrease his productivity because he’s in a slump,” he argues, “He’s the one who deals with social interactions. If he’s not at peak performance, he can’t follow through with my schemes.”

You give an unconvinced look but don’t push. Instead, you answer the question.

“I am serious about him. My bold moves at the beginning were mostly tests,” you reveal.

The sophomore pauses, confused. “What?”

“When I suggested sleeping with him, I wanted to see if he would do anything inappropriate or cross any boundaries. I wondered how he would react in a domestic relationship. I got a satisfying answer,” you explain, “The fake dating ploy is to see how well we work as a team. I knew Jamil wouldn’t believe us, so this also gauges how dedicated he can be as my partner.

“I look at romantic relationships like a group project. Two people work toward a shared goal of staying together and supporting one another. Both sides have to put in work to maintain it. It’s efficient to put candidates through trials at the beginning. I don’t want to invest in a poor product,” you chuckle.

Azul stares at you, mildly impressed. He pushes up his glasses.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he comments, “I’m sure Jade has a long-standing interest in you as well.”

You beam, elated. The Octavinelle student shakes his head before walking forward.

“We have a plan to dislodge,” he reminds you.

“Indeed,” you chirp, skipping alongside him.

The businessman sighs, resigned to his fate of you and Jade getting together.

————————

Everyone stands outside the dorm in the scorching sun, listening to the Octavinelle trio.

“Skirmishes are good exercise and help relieve stress,” Jade informs.

Floyd pipes up with his signature elongated vocals.

“I wanna go wild too! Someone come fight me!” He giggles.

You jump at the opportunity.

“I want to,” you volunteer, running up.

“Oooh, Shrimpy’s offering to wrestle with me! Yeah, I’ll do it,” the chaotic twin agrees, “One on one though.”

“Deal,” you grin.

You look at the Octavinelle’s first and second in command. Azul purses his lips but shrugs, accepting your death, while Jade is amused.

When you turn away, your fake boyfriend’s eyes narrow, cutting into his brother. It’s a warning. His counterpart laughs.

“I won’t kill them, Jade. They’re too funny to cripple,” the chaotic twin reassures, throwing his hands up. “I know they’re yours.”

You glance at the calmer eel. He has a small smile on his face like always.

“Just be careful, pearl,” he cautions you.

You perk up at the new nickname and nod with a hum.

“Thanks for looking out for me, sweetheart,” you reply.

Jade’s eyes flash with satisfaction before returning to normal.

He chuckles, “I’ll let you and Floyd have your fun. Azul and I will manage the rest of Scarabia.”

“Let’s go!” Floyd chirps, dragging you to a section of sand.

You take off your shoes and socks, knowing you’ll have a better grip if you go barefoot. In typical Floyd fashion, there’s no start signal. He just runs at you.

You bend your knees prepared to take him before faking out at the last minute. Wind rushes past you as he misses. However, Floyd’s reaction time is quick. He wheels around to snatch you. You duck and slip under his defenses. You punch into rock-solid abs. The hit doesn’t deter him. You leap back, creating distance and space.

It becomes a game of tag. You deftly dodge, trying to find a weakness, as the chaotic eel runs after you. However, Floyd’s attacks are so randomized, that it’s hard to deduce a pattern.

Then, your feet slip underneath you. Your eyes widen as warm sand meets your calf. Your opponent materializes in front of you. He blocks the sun like a reaper in a Wild West movie. Floyd shoots toward you. You spray sand into his eyes. The eel jerks back, making an odd noise. It’s a cross between a screech and a groan.

You take the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. Before you can lock him down, he gives a frenzied laugh. The chaotic twin pulls his knees to his chest and kicks you in the stomach. There’s a burst of light as you’re sent flying. You skid across the sand as Jade roars.

“FLOYD!”

In moments, the vice leader is by your side. He drops to his knees, checking you over.

“Are you ok?” Jade asks urgently, “Did you get hurt?”

You blink and shake your head.

“My stomach hurts, but other than that I’m fine,” you respond.

Your romantic interest flips your shirt up to look where his brother hit you. Your eyes widen at the brazen action. However, you sober up as you watch Jade’s worried expression. There’s a tinge of frantic concern in his eyes. There’s no visible wound on you.

“There might be some internal injury,” he murmurs to himself.

Your eel’s hands clench in the sand as he recomposes himself. They’re on either side of you, protecting you from Floyd. You tilt your head and you glance up at the other eel. He gives a sheepish smile.

With one hand behind his head, he apologizes. “Sorry, Shrimpy. I used magic on you.”

He waves his magic pen for emphasis. The chaotic twin looks like he wants to come forward and check on you too, but he eyes Jade. He doesn’t move. Your eyes spark and you glance at your fake boyfriend. You’ve read about Moray Eels, they tend to be territorial. You’re glad he’s already so attached to you. It’s a good sign. Your brain kicks back into gear, thinking logically.

“You used magic on me?” you clarify, “I just felt you kick me. Was there supposed to be some other pain?”

Jade looks up, confused.

Floyd tilts his head. “Yeah, I threw an ice attack. Are you not cold?”

You shake your head.

“No, all I felt was your kick,” you answer.

The quieter twin hovers over you with a thoughtful look. You stare at him before catching onto his thought process. You call out to the embodiment of chaos.

“Floyd, can you hit me with that spell again?” you request.

Jade flinches. He gives a tight and displeased smile. You lean toward him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“If I can nullify magic, then I can help you more,” you reason, “If Floyd hurts me, you’ll avenge me.”

The eel’s mouth twitches upward.

“I’ll be doing that anyway,” he responds.

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” you chirp.

You watch Jade’s breath hitch at the word “love.” However, he regains his composure in an instant. He stands up, offering you a hand.

As the vice leader pulls up you, he instructs Floyd, “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.”

The three of you move to a more secluded area to test your unexpected constitution.

—--------

After experimenting, Jade ushers you back to change.

You meet in your shared bedroom again once you’re dressed in your typical outfits. In an instant, he’s all over you. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed. You voluntarily sit down, looking up at him. The eel takes a moment to admire you in that position. Then, he loops his arms under yours and drags you into the middle of the bed. The vice leader drops beside you, pressing himself against you.

“Please don’t do that again,” Jade requests, wrapping his arm around you. “Even though we found out vital information, I’m still going to have a long chat with Floyd.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the code word for beating him up.”

The vice leader grins. “You know me so well, darling.”

You smirk before relaxing into his hold and staring at him. You take in his mismatched olive-brown and yellow eyes. The ones that turn up at the edges. Despite being in his dorm uniform, he’s ditched the hat on the side table. The one strand of black hair threatens to fall on his face. You catch him lingering on your lips. You smile.

“Once this is all over, will you be my boyfriend?” You ask while tucking the hair behind his ear.

“Why wait?” Jade questions, pulling you closer.

“Think of Jamil’s reaction upon learning he’s why we got together. We’ll have a dramatic confession in front of everyone,” you respond, “Azul will be horrified.”

Jade responds with a shark tooth grin.

He hums, “Yes, your plans are thrilling. However, as your fake boyfriend, I deserve some kind of reward for caring about you.”

“Of course.” You lean in to peck him on the lips.

Jade swoops in to deepen it but you slip your hand between you.

“Not until the grand reveal,” you tell him with a smirk.

He chuckles, amused. “Alright, but I can still do this.”

He nips your fingertips, snatching your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. Your eyes widen and you feel your pupils dilate. Jade smirks, snaking to your neck. He pries open your collar with his teeth and latches onto your flesh.

You jolt at the slippery sensation. He moves on top of you to get a better angle. He slips his arms under you, trapping you. You don’t mind. The eel kisses and sucks the hollow of your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to maximize Jade’s access. You feel him grin, tightening his hold.

You bathe in the pleasure and let your hands wander along his back. You run your fingers through his hair. The eel hums, confirming he likes the feeling. You feel a little mischievous and give a sharp tug. A puff of hot air hits your neck in surprise. It makes you shiver.

He bites down, hard. You yelp, gripping onto him. You feel his teeth break into your skin. The vice leader swirls his tongue along the wound, lapping the blood. You stifle a moan. The man perks up at the noise. He moves up your neck, kissing it gently.

“You don’t have to hold back,” Jade purrs.

You pant, trying to reign in your reactions.

“What fun would that be?” You retort.

He huffs out a laugh, blowing on the shell of your ear.

“I’d be delighted to slowly break you, my dear,” your soon-to-be lover whispers.

You feel your ears and face grow hot from the action as you resist arching into him. You palm his jacket, trying to find something to ground you.

“That sounds nice,” you admit.

Jade is right next to your face, nuzzling it. You can’t hold back. You turn to kiss him when a hand blocks you.

“We have to wait until the grand reveal,” he teases.

You cackle, flipping him over. He allows himself to follow your movements, gazing up at you with satisfied eyes.

“You’re perfect,” you tell him.

“You are too,” Jade answers softly.

You gaze at him for a moment, basking in the moment. You peck his lips and move to climb off when you realize something.

“I should mark you too,” you comment before launching an attack.

He chuckles, shaking his head as you return the favor.

————————

You and Jade walk into the common room. Azul is sipping water when he spots you. His eyes widen and he sprays liquid all over Jamil. He chokes. The Scarabia vice leader shouts in disgust and looks in your direction. He immediately covers Kalim’s eyes. Floyd laughs so hard, he has to lie down. Grim looks at you in surprise before pursing his lips and reluctantly accepting. You have an inkling it’s because if you date Jade, he’ll get free food from Monstro Lounge.

“Jamil, why are you covering my eyes?” Kalim questions innocently.

“It‘s debauched,” he answered, numb.

Azul yells at the two of you, “It’s 2:30!”

“Do you want us to do it in front of you?” You ask.

The Octavinelle leader suffocates on his spit, shaking in rage and embarrassment. You give a full-force grin. You have no doubt Jade is doing the same.

“We missed lunch. Do you have anything left?” Jade questions.

You cut in with a skeptical hum. “I wouldn’t say that. We just had dessert first.”

Floyd screeches in delight. Azul takes off his glasses and covers his face. Jamil stays frozen, disassociating from this unwanted scene. Grim’s nose crinkles in disgust. He crosses his arms and looks away. You can practically hear the mantra he repeats about free food.

“What’s happening?” Kalim asks, pushing his vice leader’s hands off his face.

Jamil doesn’t resist. The sunshine student spots you and grins.

“It’s so nice to see you guys so open about your love for each other! I’m glad you’re so confident in your relationship,” he compliments cheerfully.

You withhold a snort. Thankfully, Jade responds for you.

“Thank you for your blessing, Kalim,” he replies before spotting some extra food and guiding you over.

You scarf down a bowl of soup. Jade watches in amusement, as he eats slower. Then you watch Jamil and Azul head off together. It’s time to enact the plan.

—--------------

Your party stands before Jamil with all of Scarabia behind you. The vice leader of Scarabia starts to lose it.

“Me, my family… I don’t care what happens to any of it!” Jamil screams, before encanting. “The one you see before you is your master…”

Your hackles rise but you don’t do anything. You don’t want to let on about your nullification ability.

Jamil continues, “Answer when spoken to, lower your head when ordered, Snake Whisper!”

A giant ripple of magic resounds through the dorm. It permeates every space, crevice, and crack. The vulnerable Scarabia students cow under the pressure of magical power.

“Is—Is he trying to brainwash the entire dorm?!” Azul shouts in disbelief.

Your eyes widen. You sprint toward Jamil, aiming for a weak point. Without flinching, he single-handedly takes you down, bellowing an order.

“Take Kalim, Octavinelle, and Grim and kick them to the curb!” he dictates, “I’ll handle this one.”

You cry out, as he twists your arm behind your back and presses down.

“[Y/N]!”

“Shrimpy!”

“Henchman!”

Then, your friends get accosted by Scarabia students.

Jamil taunts Jade, “I’ll take good care of your princess for you.”

The eel sends him a glare before tearing through Scarabia students.

Floyd growls, complaining, “These guys keep getting up no matter how much I squeeze them. They’re zombies.”

Amid the pandemonium, Kalim cries out to his childhood companion.

“Jamil, stop already, I get it! You can be the dorm head and I’ll go home!” he begs.

Your eyes widen. That was a bad response. You glance up at the vice leader. When you see his face, you purse your lips. He’s about to overblot and you’re pinned beneath him.

You take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest and your mind races. You’ve witnessed many overblots, but you’ve never been this close to one that’s about to happen.

Logically, you know you’ll be safe from his magic, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You’re about to be locked up without any of your friends. You’ll be stuck with an unpredictable power-crazed maniac.

You hear Jade speaking and you glance up at him. His eyes continuously flicker to you as he demolishes Jamil’s thralls. You reply with a strained and helpless dry laugh. His eyebrows furrow. He pushes himself harder.

Your face drops when Jamil screams again. Your whole body tightens as you brace yourself for the transformation. The first thing you feel is sticky ink on your arm. You flinch at the sensation, cringing.

Jade yells your name, panicked. Even through the crackle of magic, you hear him push and slam into people, trying to get to you. The air becomes more dense around you. You’re not affected by it but Jamil’s presence is enough to intimidate anyone.

“You’re coming to save your lover? How amusing. I never like Kalim’s version of love anyway. He seems too invested in your fake love story. I’ll take [Y/N] for myself. I’m sure they’ll be a wonderful pet,” the overblot student provokes.

You grit your teeth as rage flares in your eyes. He dares to call you a pet? When you have the chance, you’ll stab him in the back. You’ll take the time to set it up. You’ve become good at revenge plans since teaming up with Octavinelle.

Jamil tosses you to the side, ordering a group of Scarabia students, “Take and restrain [Y/N].”

They grip you and you don’t attempt to resist. You stare straight at Jade with an annoyed and irritated look, signaling your intent for revenge. The eel raises an eyebrow. He’s still concerned and worried, but your expression relieves him of some of his worries.

Jamil floats to the group before launching them into the sky with a huge show of power.

“Jade!” You scream, horrified.

They fade to nothing more than a dot in the sky.

You take a deep breath. They’ll be fine. So far you’ve been lucky with these overblots. Everyone’s made it out ok. You pray it’s the same this time.

You refocus on Jamil. Now, you must collect data, plan this man’s demise, and act.

—--------------

The Scarabia students dress you in a tight, red crop top with matching harem pants. You’re accessorized in gold and a blue, almost transparent, scarf is wrapped around your shoulders and over your head. They lead you back to the common area. Jamil is sitting there in all his glory. His thralls cater food, fan him, and praise his excellence. When Jamil spots you, he smirks, gesturing for you to come over.

You know how you need to act. The key was not laughing. During the past few days, you’ve become proficient in that skill. You hope your training doesn’t go to waste.

Your guards escort you to him before backing off. You don an innocent and docile air. You tentatively lower yourself on the floor.

“Thank you, Master Jamil,” you state.

The Scarabia student’s eyes widen before a large smirk forms on his face. He leans forward, tipping your chin up. You comply with large, doe eyes.

“It doesn’t look like you’re very loyal to your lover, [Y/N],” he comments.

You lean forward with a worshipping gaze. You keep eye contact as you speak earnestly.

“Master Jamil, you saved my life,” you lie, “I’ve been in debt to Octavinelle for a while. When they found out about Scarabia’s situation, they wanted to investigate. They forced me to follow their plans.”

The Scarabia student raises an eyebrow. A look of satisfaction passes over his face.

“I’m glad I was right,” he murmurs.

Internally, you laugh. Jamil just wants to be right. All you’re doing is feeding into his fantasy. As long as you tell him what he wants to hear, he’ll be none the wiser.

His thumb moves across your cheek and you lean into it. Jamil’s eyes spark at the action.

The man gave you a fantastic opportunity to make more contact. You need to be close to follow through with the plan. Internally, you chuckle. When you defeat the Scarabia vice leader, you’ll be sure to punish him most uniquely.

—--------

You sit in Jamil’s lap, feeding him grapes. You giggle and play with his snake hair. The little creatures gained a liking to you. It solidified your thoughts that he’s a blindsighted fool.

A lively and energetic voice bounces off the walls.

“Jamil! You’re a cowardly traitor and I’m going to punch you!” Kalim yells.

You withhold your snort at the brazen declaration. It fits the true house warden well. You look over and find Jade. You give a wink. He keeps a straight face but there’s a look of relief. However, his eyes darken at your position.

From beside you, Jamil is stunned. In a scratchy, otherworldly voice the overblot student speaks. Making sure he can’t see, you make a disgusted face. Jade looks placated for now.

“I threw you so far into the desert. How did you get here so fast?” Jamil interrogates.

Azul speaks up. “Kalim used his unique magic, Oasis Maker, to refill a dried-up river. Jade and Floyd swam us here.”

Jamil sneers, “I thought Kalim’s unique Magic was nothing more than a way to splish-splash in a kitty pool. Who knew you would muster the power to fill a river?”

“I’m here to challenge you as the house warden!” The boy in question declares.

“No, I am the rightful leader of Scarabia. I’m much better than you’ve ever been,” Jamil states before getting up from his seat with you in his arms.

You fake a small swoon and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves to deposit you a little ways away behind him.

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll exterminate these pests and be back,” the overblot student reassures.

You nod submissively.

Jamil turns and flies at your companions. From behind him, you gag, dusting off wherever he touched you.

“Your lover doesn’t like you, Jade. They’re rather pliant in my hands,” the Scarabia student snarks.

Your eyes blaze with fire at the comment. The eel’s face tightens.

With his ever-present calm and polite smile, Jade replies, “I’m sure [Y/N] will see reason when we defeat you.”

“That won’t happen,” Jamil snorts, before blasting your friends with bloody burgundy magic.

Light flashes across the room as the ink behind Jamil gathers. A towering humanoid snake rises from the liquid. Its face is a broken, leaking ink bottle with a massive Sultan headpiece. On the wrists are two matching golden cuffs. It’s his overblot monster. This is what the group needs to target. They have to break the glass.

Carefully moving to the side where neither Jamil nor the entity can see you, you start giving hand gestures. The first one you give is putting an index finger to your mouth. Grim looks straight at you, confused. Thankfully your soon-to-be boyfriend moves to block your cat’s line of sight and kicks him. Your familiar gets the hint.

Surprisingly, Kalim notices you but doesn’t give anything away. Floyd is on the same page. Everyone makes sure to not look at you directly or at least simultaneously. You begin miming your plan.

When you finish, you see a spark of an idea in Kalim’s eyes. You raise an eyebrow. It looks like he’s planning something. However, none of the Octavinelle students can see it. You don’t mind altering your plans. You’re curious.

You creep up on Jamil, coming behind the monster. You plan to dash past. You lower yourself into a sprinting position and wait.

Kalim takes a deep breath and nods. You take your cue and sprint.

The white-haired boy shouts, “Do you know how this will affect your family?!”

Jamil stops casting, choking in rage.

You leap, latching onto his head. All of his magic stops as you cover his eyes. Restraining his snake hair, your legs wrap around his waist. Jade dashes up, spins, and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of his jaw.

Jamil falls, unconscious. Jade catches you as the monster roars.

The sound is cut off by shattering glass. Ink gushes from the creature’s face. It crumples and disintegrates to mist.

You glance back. Kalim is standing there with his staff raised. He stays in that position, frozen.

The air clears to reveal the night sky again. The other Scarabia students are still knocked out from the amount of mind control power Jamil used on them.

Kalim hiccups and collapses to the ground, sobbing.

You give a sad smile. Standing up, you walk over to him and put a hand on his back.

“Nice thinking, Kalim,” you tell him, “You gave us the opening we needed.”

The crying student looks up at you.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know he felt that way about me!” the Scarabia leader wails, “I didn’t want to say that to him either.”

Your eyes widen, not knowing how to deal with this. Then, you spot your out.

You swoop Grim into your arms and carry him over to Kalim.

“You better act like a good stuffed animal,” you tell him, “We both don’t know how to help crying people, but you’re much more huggable than I am.”

Your cat is about to thrash at you before you add, “I can get you seven cans of tuna for free because I’m about to date Jade.”

Your companion stills.

“If you throw me to Floyd again, that promise doubles,” he conditions.

“Ok,” you comply.

You can use his wording against him. He didn’t stipulate if Floyd caught him on his own. Your cat needs to learn that to live with this crew.

You deposit Grim in front of Kalim, who asks if he can hug him.

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don’t get snot on me,” your magical creature huffs.

The wealthy sophomore clutches onto him and weeps. You chuckle, watching the life get squeezed out of your familiar.

You head to the Octavinelle trio.

Before you can say anything, Jade reels you into him. He holds you close. You can feel his breath on your cheek. Beads of sweat drip down his face. You know he wants to kiss you, but he’s too committed to your upcoming stunt. Instead, he rips off the scarf and traces the hickeys he left.

Azul groans, “Not again.”

Floyd nudges Jamil with his foot. “When’s he going to wake up?”

The Scarabia vice leader responds, moaning in pain. Kalim shoots up from the floor and rushes to his side, balling.

The wealthy student is almost incoherent, babbling something about Jamil being alive. He helps the overblotted student sit up. The bruised and beat-up sophomore puts a hand on his chin.

“Who hit me?” he questions.

“I did. I also want to thank you,” Jade answers.

Jamil’s eyebrows furrow.

“For what?” he asks.

The eel ignores him, turning to you with a smile. He takes your hand.

“[Y/N], ever since you flew into Monstro Lounge three nights ago and pummeled that one student, I’ve been enchanted by you. From your bold declaration to sleep with me on the first night—“

“—You did what?” Jamil interjects, horrified.

Jade ignores him. “—to your fake dating scheme. They’ve been some of the most memorable moments of my life. Will you be my girlfriend?”

Azul lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank god, I thought you were going to ask them to marry you.”

You get an idea.

“Of course, Jade. I’ve always thought you were interesting. When we interacted before Azul’s overblot, you fascinated me. However, it wasn’t until Jamil’s shenanigans that we connected on a deeper level.”

You let the sexual insinuation sit for a moment. Jamil gags. You glance at Floyd with a smirk. That was the exact reaction you wanted from him

“You should force him to watch this entire thing. Jamil deserves to be punished for his overblot. It’s not violent, so this is a perfect way,” you suggest with a sweet smile.

The chaotical entity bounces on the balls of his feet and zooms at the offered target.

Jamil grunts as Floyd catches him in a chokehold and forces his eyes open. The eel cackles directly into his ear, causing the vice leader to wince at the volume.

“Shrimpy’s ideas are the best! You should team up with Azul to make even more hilarious schemes,” he chortles beside the Scarabia student’s face.

You grin and turn back to your lover.

“It’s all thanks to Jamil that we’re together. I love that we’re on the same page. I love how dedicated you are to our relationship (and schemes, you internally add, knowing he’ll come to the same conclusion). I love your willingness to try new things. In light of that…”

You get down on one knee.

Keeping your eyes on Jade, you hold your hand face up and demand, “Kalim, give me your ring bracelet. I’ll return it after I get a formal ring.”

You hear an excited gasp and the jangling of metal.

“Kalim,” Jamil complains, trying to caution him.

There’s a hitch in his breath.

“Let [Y/N] and my brother have their moment, Sea Snake~” Floyd sings, tightening his hold.

From the corner of your eye, Azul grips his hair.

“I hate both of you,” the dorm leader hisses.

Without missing a beat, you add. “You’ll be catering the event.”

The businessman pauses. He straightens up, pushing up his glasses.

“I suppose that’s fine,” he concedes, “The wedding business is incredibly lucrative. The price increases if you put the word “wedding” before it.”

Kalim claps his hands.

“I’m glad Azul has finally accepted the two of you,” he cheers, before depositing the requested item in your hands.

You take it.

Looking up at Jade, you hold in a burst of laughter at the absurd situation.

“Jade, will you marry me?” You ask.

“Yes, my pearl.”

You quickly slip the jewelry on before jumping him. You make a big show of making out.

In the background, you hear Jamil protesting as Floyd giggles. You feel your fiance’s sharp teeth as his mouth forms into a grin. After about thirty seconds of twisting tongues, you release your hold. With red lips, you turn to Jamil.

“You’ll be our guest of honor,” you tell him.

He glares at you before Grim speaks up.

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I get free food from Monstro Lounge,” he states, crossing his arms.

Azul is about to protest when Jade cuts in.

“I can make that happen,” he confirms.

You raise an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “You’re already sucking up to the in-laws.”

He pecks you again. “You’ve successfully gained my brother’s favor. I’m only repaying the favor.”

“This is why I love you,” you sigh, smiling content.

“I love you too,” Jade replies.

————————

“Now, you may kiss,” the officiant declares.

A cheer goes up as Jade grabs your waist and dips you. He catches your lips with his teeth. Jade lets go of the teasing bite to actually kiss you. He pulls you up, still holding on. You smirk and lean into him, recalling the last time you pulled this stunt. You kiss long enough for people to become uncomfortable. It was the trick from when you proposed after Jamil’s overblot.

In the audience, Jamil states, “I’m getting flashbacks.”

“It’s just like old times!” Kalim cries.

“You mean the lowest point of my life? Floyd forced me to watch them make out. I do not want to see it twice,” he retorts.

You pick up more ambient chatter.

From the Ignihyde dorm, the in-person and shivering Idia asks, “Ortho, can we go now?”

“We need to stick around a little longer. They’ve helped us out and they play video games with you.”

There’s a deep, heavy sigh before a familiar flourish of words overpowers it.

“Beau! This is a gorgeous and fantastic match. The Trickster and Monsieur Mastermind. They’re truly a plotting and mischievous duo. I have no doubt their married life will continue to flower with time!”

“Rook, [Y/N] asked you to take their wedding photos. Why are you still sitting here?” Vil questions.

“I already took them!”

“…Why am I not surprised? Epel, did you steal food from the buffet table and bring it inside?”

A muffled voice responds, “…You’re not my dorm leader anymore.”

“Oh? So you think you can just get away with it?” Vil sasses.

“Wow, they’re so cute! It’s a picture-perfect moment and they’re holding their pose. I can get in a lot of good shots,” Cater squeals.

“Trey, what flavor of cake did they order?” The former Heartslabyul leader asks.

“The standard chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. Each tier has a different flavor. However, they had an interesting request. They want me to use Doodle Suit on a few people’s slices.”

“That sounds like them,” Leona butts in, “They’re always up to something. Even now.”

“Shi-shi-shi,” Ruggie laughs, “They match each other perfectly—Oh, look, Jack’s uncomfortable. That means they’ll end soon.”

“Human rituals are so interesting,” Malleus observes, “It’s fascinating to watch one up close. Although, Silver is missing out.”

“I’m sure he’ll see many more,” Lilia waves off, “I’m excited when they ask for my assistance again. They have a great sense of humor.”

Then your cue was given.

“CEASE THIS TOMFOOLERY THIS INSTANT! ITS UNDIGNIFIED AND YOURE SULLYING MALLEUS’ EYES!!” Sebek shouts, shooting up from his seat.

The two of you break away with matching grins.

From the audience, the green-haired man stands stunned that his demands were answered. Lilia cackles and pulls him down as Silver’s eyes blearily open.

Azul comments beside your husband, “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends and then I remember how much money you make me.”

Floyd whines, “I’m sad it wasn’t more interesting. You’ve already used that trick before.”

“The night isn’t over yet. There will be more,” Jade replies with a smirk.

The other eel perks up.

From behind you, Deuce pipes up.

“Sebek could’ve come in sooner,” he sighs.

“I’m not surprised he didn’t realize he needed to yell,” Ace snorts next to him, “He’s as dense as a brick.”

“Henchman! I want food!!” Grim demands.

You laugh and follow his orders, hand in hand with your husband.

259 notes · View notes

cutehoons02 · 1 day ago

Text

Kiss me, don't say no!

*pairing: pervy idol Jake x writer tumblr Girl

*trope: frat boy x good girl

*synopsis: What if your favorite idol and bias discovered your Tumblr account where you wrote cute and adorable one-shot about him but also spicy? You always dreamed of going to a fan meeting of the Enhypen but what would happen if Jake had written for days in anonymous pretending to be a fan of the enhypen and then made you realize that you were writing with him and he would want to recreate those one-Spicy shot you wrote about him?

*tags: Lots of tension, fluffy, Jake slowly becomes more and more obsessed by the protagonist, white lies, possession, jealousy, the protagonist is a pretentious shy, they are both perverts, inspired by one-shot and reading, manipulation, masturbation (f.receives) touch, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) +18,pet names (good girl,angel) (jakey)

Sunghoon pt Heeseung pt

(English is not my native language)

8k (🎀)

Jake was bored. And when Jake was bored, he could only do two things: annoy the group members until he threw a pillow in his face... or get lost in the meanders of social.

Lying on the bed of his hotel room, with hair still wet after a shower and phone in hand, he was lazy on Twitter until he saw a trade of a fan account on him that posted one-shots that could be read on Tumblr and the top 10 and there were for each one-shot link and when he entered the page of Tumblr it jumped out at him: #Enhypen x Reader.

Curious, clicked and his timeline immediately filled with scenes, gifs, fanart, and especially fanfiction about them. He was used to seeing the name of Heeseung or Sunghoon at the top of those charts, but when his eyes fell on #Jake x Reader, his interest lit up instantly.

And then he saw it.

A blog with a cute icon and a sweet username that had fanfiction number one: "Vampire Jake: My Predator".

He just had to slide a few lines and feel a shiver running down his back.

"His red eyes shone in the darkness as his warm body trapped me against the wall. His breath was irregular, the canines were touching my bare neck while his fingers were gripping my life with an almost animalistic possessiveness."

Jake swallowed it. For a moment, his shy side pushed him to close everything, but his curiosity - and, okay, maybe something else - prevented him from looking away.

He continued reading, the heartbeat in his chest. The way you described it... the sweet tone, but also incredibly spicy... He made him blush to the ears. You had written about him as a dangerously seductive vampire, someone unable to follow for the desire to taste his prey: his girlfriend. Is it the worst? It almost seemed that you knew him.

When he finished reading the one-shot he thought: Wow this girl seems to know me so well for just being a fan of mine!

Then, scrolling through the other stories in your profile and seeing the number of likes and comments was quite famous, he realized that this was not an isolated case.

"Boyfriend Jake (But he’s a Pervert)"

"Golden Retriever Jake (But he’s Obsessed with You)"

"Jake Sim and the Thousand Excuses to Touch His Girlfriend"

He almost laughed. Almost because his head was now full of images... and questions. Who the hell were you? And how did you write such things about him with such confidence?

And with a clever smile, he had an idea: Jake had always been the type to be carried away by instinct. And at that moment, his instinct was only one thing: to find out who was behind the blog.

And maybe... talk a little with you, he entered the message section but first, he had to create an account that looked like the account of any fan of Enhypen and at this point himself. In the image he put a photo of him taken from Twitter and created the name with his initials and the year of his birth "J_S02" was perfect because you would have understood that he was a fan.

Message from "J_02" (aka Jake, undercover mode: activated)

Hey! I know you probably get a lot of messages, but I had to ask... why are you writing ONLY about Jake? I read your story and it’s nice but you seem to know Jake better than yourself!

Jake bit his fingernails and rubbed the towel in his hair to relax, he wanted to talk about it to his friends like Jay or Sunghoon but what would he say to him: Hey I found a fan of ours writing one-shot spicy about me, and out of curiosity I wrote a message?

Nah they would have made fun of him when he waited madly for your message and after a while arrived.

Answer from you: Oh? Another jealous Jake fan? 👀

J_S02: No no, I swear I’m not jealous! (Maybe a little hahaha) But come on, don’t the other members deserve some love? I saw your master and you only have stories about Jake

You: Jake is special, I follow him from I-land. He has that adorable golden retriever look but with a dangerous side that makes him perfect for any scenario... sometimes I take inspiration from their video clips or their songs

J_S02: Dangerous? But he seems the type that gets excited for a puppy! Have you seen how mini it is when he sees any animal but especially Layla?

You: Of course, I know that it has a sweet side! When he came out that vlog with Layla was adorable but who says you do not hide a more... spicy side?

Jake laughed when he read that message, certainly, it was not innocent as they painted some fans but did not think that some fans could think of it as a boy a little perverted to say it all.

J_S02: Okay, okay, point in your favor. But then... how do you write about him in so much detail? Do you know him by chance or is it all in your imagination?

You: Maybe yes, maybe no. 😉 But sorry, why all this interest? You wrote me because I don’t write about other members but I think seeing also your profile photo that you are a fan, right?

J_S02: Let’s put it like this: I would like to see if your descriptions are accurate and yes, I’m a fan of Jake and the Enhypen too, but I’m a boy and I don’t know if this thing could bother you...

You: Oh, finally I met some male fans of Enhypen!! Returning to the message from earlier and if I find that I have perfectly grasped his character? And that Jake could be both the cub boy and "Golden retriever" as the members describe him but also with a bit of a not-so-innocent guy side?

Jake ran his hand through his thick hair and shook his head, god was so fun to write you especially when he wanted to know someone or maybe have a girl to talk to about these things but the Idol life had strict rules, and didn't want to burst dramas especially now that they were at the peak of their careers and with a thousand things at stake.

J_S02: Then I would say that... you should give me some more details. You know, for "research purposes".

You: Tsk tsk, what a pervert. Just like the Jake of my stories...

Jake loved how you imagined it and maybe that Jake you described so well was not only the Jake of your stories but also the one in reality!

The conversation with you on Tumblr didn’t stop, and every message he received made him smile and at the same time put him in a more complicated position. " Who was this girl?" he wondered. "What would she think if she knew who I was?".

He could not reveal his identity to you, and the most fascinating part of the conversation was just that. He felt like he knew the secret, while you were completely unaware that you were talking to one of the ENHYPEN.

Meanwhile, he kept on responding to your messages, in a friendly and curious tone, but always maintaining his "normal identity".

J_S02: I wanted to ask you this weekend will you go to one of the two concerts they do in Seoul and the fan meeting?" Jake wrote, pretending to be just a normal guy who was curious to meet a fan.

You: Of course, I will. And also at the fan meeting on Monday!

You’ll be there? Interesting thought Jake when he read that you were going to see him at the concert but also the formatting, could somehow find out who you were and understand who was behind this account

J_S02: It must be a big event for you! Don’t you think it would be strange to meet one of your favorite stars live? Don’t you think it might be a little awkward? I will not be at the concert because I work but at the fan meeting I will be

After a few seconds, the phone vibrated with a new answer.

You: Oh, no! I don’t think it will be weird... maybe a little bit exciting, since I follow I-land, I dream of seeing them sing and dance live. Although I’m a bit shy, I think it would be a dream to see one of my idols so close and I can’t wait for it to be Monday; however, we could meet on Monday at the meeting!"

Jake, reading that answer, smiled and felt puzzled. Something was fascinating about the way you spoke. You looked so genuine and completely unaware of who he was.

J_S02: It seems to me that you are a really big fan, what are you preparing for the most: the concert or the fan meeting? Anyway, it would be perfect if we met at the meeting

The response came in a flash, with a line of enthusiasm that made Jake smile.

You: Both, honestly! But what excites me the most is that after the concert I’ll go to the fan meeting and, well... I guess I will see him after 4 years in the flesh! It will be a unique opportunity. I can’t wait! Well perfect then on Monday morning we agree on where to find us, I will be with my friends:)

Jake holds a smile. He felt in a sense excited by the thought that this girl would soon meet the Enhypen and especially him, But the thing that intrigued him most was how she would react when she realized he was one of the members she was feeling with.

J_S02: Oh wow, you seem excited. I wonder how you’ll react when you’re face to face with the Enhypen and Jake!

He wrote, but with a subtle play on words, pretending not to be the star she loved so much.

J_S02: We should find a way to recognize ourselves if you want to meet me at the meeting, I guess there will be a lot of people.

You: I’ll send you a picture of my outfit on the day of the fan meeting! So it will be easier to find us 😊

Jake smiled and now the game could be even more interesting.

The two concerts in Seoul were crazy, They sang and danced to thousands of fans and everyone was happy with their performances Jake was excited because he knew that in that flood of people, you were also there and he couldn’t wait to write you and see you tomorrow at the fan meeting.

Jake, still hiding behind his anonymous profile, found himself typing a message right after the end of the concert. He wanted to know everything.

J_S02: So, how was the concert? Did you have fun?

It took a while for him to get an answer, but when the phone vibrated he found a long message that made him smile.

You: Oh my God, it was AMAZING. I’m still without a voice! I screamed so much that tomorrow I probably won’t even be able to talk 😂.

Jake laughed at himself, imagining you all euphoric and out of breath after watching the show.

You: The performances were crazy! They sang all my favorite songs and I did not stop to film. I have a thousand videos and photos, literally.

J_S02: And did you get all of them or just your favorite as well as Jake Sim? 😏

You: Um... let’s say my film is 60% Jake and 40% the rest of the group.

Jake shook his head laughing. So you had eyes only for him, huh? And he decided to go a little further.

J_S02: And how was Jake live? Did he look at you at least once?

You answered immediately with a message accompanied by a video.

You: I caught him right now! Look, for a second he looked at me!"

Jake opened the video and concentrated. During all the chaos of lights, fans, and screaming, he managed to see himself on stage... and then, for a moment, he saw himself turn his gaze to the camera.

He made up his mind trying to remember that moment but there were thousands of fans that night and the thought that you had immortalized that micro-second among so many people gave him shivers.

J_S02: Wow. He looked at you. Do you remember what you thought at that moment?

You: That I would have melted away instantly. And that I was making mental films, because imagine if he had seen me"

Jake laughed. Oh, if you only knew... that he had seen you and was also writing to you

You kept writing to each other for a while, until Jake, without even thinking about it, asked you:

J_S02: What are your favorite songs?

You: It’s hard to choose just a few! I love Shout Out, Moonstrock, One in a Billion, Criminal Love, and the whole "Dark Blood" album but let’s say I love songs where Jake’s voice is strong. And also... I miss the blond Jake when I saw him blonde for the first time I thought I was in love with him haha. Even as a brunette he’s fine but blond>>>

Jake when he read that he liked the blond version wrote to his hairdresser staff that tomorrow before the fan meeting wanted to make it blonde that was a lot that did not dye his hair

Without thinking, he wrote to her:

J_S02: Well, at the fan meeting you will see him blond again.

On the other hand, you took a few seconds to answer.

You: Wait... what? It’s impossible! There is no comeback planned, no special event. He couldn’t change his look so randomly.

Jake bit his lip. He had just said too much, cabbage had been careful until now you should not get caught up in the emotions.

You: Wait, how do you know?

Jake cursed himself mentally. But why did he miss that sentence?!

J_S02: Oh... ehm... I meant that maybe it could be a surprise. You never know. I was just kidding! 😅"

You seemed to accept his answer, but he knew the damage was done. The problem? The next day he would really dye his hair blonde before the fan meeting and scrolling on Twitter and Tik Tok had read everywhere on social media how fans liked that look on him, and eventually he decided to do it but now... He felt that he had done it for one more reason.

You were excited, the fan meeting was about to start and you already heard the music coming from the theater and the various voices of the members; you had spent the morning preparing yourself, choosing carefully his outfit: a white t-shirt with small pink bows, low-waisted jeans that let a thread of skin, loose hair and Adidas Samba on the feet. Nothing too flashy, but cute enough to feel comfortable waiting in line, you got a message.

J_S02: So, are you ready?

You: More than ready! I’m already inside the arena, soon I’ll enter the fan meeting room!

J_S02: "How’s your outfit? I want to understand how you are dressed so I try to find you."

You: Mh, I have a little T-shirt with pink bows, low waist jeans, the Adidas Samba and loose hair

After a few seconds, Jake responded with a photo.

It was a slightly blurred image, taken from below, but you could see clearly: a red sweatshirt and torn jeans.

You: Wow, mysterious as always. Where are we?

J_S02: Inside the fan meeting. But I’m sure you’ll recognize me right away.

You wrinkled your forehead for a moment in what sense would you recognize him immediately? You sent around to observe all the few males that there were at the fan meeting but none had a red sweatshirt and it was strange because it was an access color and you should recognize it immediately.

You: Um, I’m already inside, but I don’t see anyone with a red sweatshirt and ripped jeans... 👀"

Jake: Wait till you get into the main hall.

You sighed, thinking he was teasing you and finally, the line came forward. With a heart full of joy, you entered the room where the Enhypen were sitting next to each other, waiting to chat with the fans and time seemed to slow down.

You saw them, all seven. The faces you knew so well, the guys you followed for years, the guys you could see grow up in recent years and watch them record after record with their songs and performances but when your gaze reached the bottom of the line... your breath stuck in your throat.

Jake was crazy alive: His hair was blonde, fluffy, and slightly ruffled, the perfect face, the smile on his lips but it wasn’t his appearance that made you tremble. It was his outfit: a red sweatshirt, and ripped jeans, exactly those of the photo, and the world around you seemed to stop for a few seconds while your brain tried to put together the pieces.

Jake... It was him... He was "J_S02". You thought he was just a fan but instead you.

You were written with Jake Sim. You sent him your videos at the concert. You told him how you would dress. And, most importantly... Jake read your fan fiction about him. You wanted to disappear and run away from the fan meeting but you couldn’t go back and the heat went up to your face so fast that you feared to faint.

What about Jake?

Jake was looking at you with a clever little grin, eyes slightly closed as if he was having a bit too much fun at your reaction, and then slowly winked at you and you saw him for a few seconds pulling out of his pocket a phone and you felt your vibrating.

J_S02: Surprise. 😉

And in that instant, you realized one thing was fundamental you were in trouble.

You stuck your phone in your jeans with a nervous gesture and your heart was pounding, you tried to stay calm, to treat that fan meeting as a normal experience. With the other members, you were perfectly at ease.

Jungwon had made a nice joke about your shirt, Jay had shown you a magic trick, and Heeseung had been incredibly sweet to you but when it was Jake’s turn ... Everything changed.

You sat in front of him, your heart pounding in your ears and you couldn’t even look at his face. It was too much: too absurd. Too surreal. Too much of him.

Jake looked at you with a hint of a smile, fingers thumping read on the table, and then, without warning, he took your hands, and contact with his hand made you feel too real.

He approached slightly, lowering his voice so that only you could hear him.

«Hello, Y/n.

God, your name said from his lips made your heart beat even faster and you clenched your lips, but before you could say anything, Jake bowed his head and his smile became more provocative.

«Or should I say... writer of spicy tales?"

A heat wave went up from your neck to your cheeks. Oh no. No, no.

You cleared your throat, retracting his hands with a quick gesture but he was faster than you and put them inside you in his big hands and squeezed them slightly.

"Stop." Jake raised a slouch and started to laugh slightly

«Why should I? It’s not my fault if you spent days writing spicy things about me!

You felt the fire rising in your stomach. You were angry, angry with him for deceiving you, angry with yourself for not realizing it before, angry because... damn, it was even more fascinating live.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered, finally taking your hands off his and crossing your arms on his chest.

Jake leaned against the back of his chair, looking at you with that look that seemed to be light inside.

«Oh, so you’ve got the wrong idea about me all these years? Did you think I was more... sweet?"

Where was the sweet, sunny, awkward Jake you always imagined? Where was the human golden retriever who made millions of fans beat their hearts?

What you had in front of you was a completely different Jake, maybe... more like the one you described in your stories.

He looked down at your shirt for a second, then slowly went up to your eyes. «Cute bows on the mesh."

You felt burning with embarrassment, especially because, as he spoke,

He had to stop it immediately with you, for you that was not a game was a dream that had been realized to see all 7 live but slowly was turning into a nightmare.

"Jake, stop," you hissed. "That’s not fair. You pretended to be an ordinary fan!" Jake raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if he was amused by your indignation.

«I repeat, I am not the one in error."

He looked at you with that damn arrogant grin you had never seen on him before.

«You’re the one who writes hot stories about me."

You felt yourself dying. You wanted to sink underground and never come out again.

"I... Not "You tried to say something, but the words stuck in your throat and Jake tilted his head even more, his look was amused but there was something more.

«What is it? Are you ashamed to have me before you now?"

YES. CURSED YES. But you would never admit it.

"That’s not the point!" you slammed slowly, trying to ignore the heat that was coming down your face.

Jake leaned his head closer and stood there, a few inches away from you, with that air of someone who had just found his new favorite pastime: to make fun of you.

«You know what?" he said, crossing his arms and staring at you with an almost dangerous smile. «I was intrigued by those stories."

You’ve been peeking. "W-what is it?!"

«Yes. We should talk about it better, don’t you think?"

"Talk about what?!" you said with grace that they were on fire and you could not look at him anymore but you looked from everything except him and hoped that the staff called you to send you away and Jake came closer, his eyes glued to yours.

«Of all you’ve written about me." And in that instant, you understood something very, very clearly. Jake Sim would not leave you alone.

Days had passed from the fan meeting and your life was back to calm, you went to university, studied, and went out with your friends to downtown Seoul or near the river thrusts, when you had time you read new one-shots and in your drafts there were some already set but you did not dare to publish any because Jake knew of your existence and even if he had not written since that day you always had the anxiety to receive a message.

But on the other hand, Jake saw your Instagram profile, thanks to the list he had found after the fan meeting with all the names and surnames written and it was a breeze to find your Ig profile carefully, eyes that were shining with curiosity... e desire had found you and would not let you be for long.

Your photos told him a story he already liked too much.

Shots of travel with friends, always smiling, always radiant, Photos at concerts, immersed in the crowd, your eyes illuminated by emotion. Outfit as a good girl, but with the right touch of mischief.

Jake ran his hand through his blond hair, biting the inside of his cheek. You were the perfect representation of his ideal girlfriend and now that he had seen your world... he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Then, a notification brought him back to reality.

🔔 Y/nWritings has posted a new story on Tumblr.

A shiver of excitement passed through him. Finally, he wanted too much to see what you had written about him until now you had only imagined it but now that you had seen him live and even heard him talking with you you could describe it much better; opened the post, sure that she would find a new story about him but her smile is turned off when she read the title.

"Heeseung x Reader - After the Fan Meeting..."

Jake wiped his eyelids slightly because he had read wrong but when he opened the story in a hurry, eyes running through the lines with growing annoyance and a sense of jealousy crept into his chest.

That story wasn’t about him. It was about Heeseung and it wasn’t just any story. It was spicy.

Jake clenched his jaw, the blood boiling in his veins. But what the fuck... he was your favorite. He was the one who had made her crazy for days not heeseung. He was the one who invaded your thoughts and your Tumblr profile with him as the protagonist, not Heeseung!

A dark smirk curled his lips, if you wanted to play with him, then he would play but his rules and win at any cost.

You were lying in bed with the computer playing one of your favorite TV shows in the background and you were relaxed in your room until a notification that you knew belonged to made you shudder.

J_S02: I want to see you.

You pulled yourself up with wide eyes, no, it couldn’t be you had ignored it for days, you tried to forget what happened at the fan meeting but you knew that sooner or later he would rewrite you and maybe you played with the wrong person because fatality had rewritten you on the same day you published a one-shot but this one-shot had not as protagonist him but another member of Enhypen.

You: Don’t write me anymore.

J_S02: Are you sure?

You bit your lip. Yes, damn it, you didn’t want to do anything with him anymore;

You were about to type another message when an Instagram notification blocked your heartbeat.

🔔 J_S02 has viewed your story and started following you

Wait... what?! In what sense did he follow me? How the hell did he find my profile and panic took over?

J_S02: Look out the window.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you slowly got up from the bed and approached the window with the phone in your hands and when you looked out... your world stopped. Jake was there, leaning, with his red sweatshirt and the usual ripped jeans, hands tucked in his pockets but this time he had a black mask covering his nose you knew it was him and you heard him talking.

«Now you still want to say no?»

The voice was low, slightly hoarse. Damn dangerous and you felt the heat coming to your face. He was crazy?!

Open the window, heart in throat. "What the hell are you doing here?!" You hissed quietly, afraid someone might hear it

Jake tilted his head, his smile amused. «I wanted to see you.»

You stared at him incredulously. "You can’t... I mean... how did you find me?!"

He shrugged. «I have my famous methods.»

You pale because it was creepy, yet damn charming.

"I can’t get off."

Jake sighed, pulling out the phone. "So I’ll get up.»

"No, I’m not!" exclaimed in panic but he was already gone, You ran to your door and leaned until you heard footsteps and slowly opened the door and saw Jake climbing the stairs and slowly taking off his black mask and stared at him with your heart beating like crazy. He was a fool. But an incredibly sexy fool.

You sighed when you felt its slightly amber scent invade your spaces. "What do you want from me, Jake?"

He looked you straight in the eye.

«Gosh, you’re giving your favorite idol warmth! I want to know why you wrote about Heeseung.»

You flashed your eyes when you heard the last part of the sentence. "Wait... are you here for this?!"

Jake nodded. «Explain it. Why didn’t you write about me?»

You put your hand in your hair and were seriously incredulous about the situation you were living in. "I didn’t think it was a problem."

«It is,» said Jake, with a dangerous smile and you saw him approaching you

Was he jealous?

He watched you for a few seconds and put his hand in the door of your room which was like a shield that could protect you from him at that moment.

«Can I. Can I come in?»

"Jake, I’m..." He stared at you intensely. «I will do nothing to you, Y/n. I just... want to talk.»

You bit your lip, you knew you shouldn’t but damn... you wanted to find out how far he would go and with a sigh, grabbed the door and opened it, Jake at first is surprised but at the same time he is satisfied with your choice, and when he came in he got closer to you and said to you in a low voice

«Good girl," You were fucked. Closed the door of your apartment with too much heat, what the hell was Jake doing in his house?!

Jake had already gone into the small shared apartment with your friends, looking around with a funny, almost arrogant air. He stood at the door of his room and looked at it with a mischievous smile.

"Can I come in?» he asked with a friendly polite tone and you exclaimed "NO!"

Trying to prevent him from entering but it was quite late, Jake had already turned the handle and had entered and you bit your lip, while he watched everything with attentive eyes and after a moment of silence, he whistled softly.

"Wow,» he commented, letting a laugh run away as she looked around. "This is a good girl’s room. I did not expect anything less.»

His fingers touched a row of perfectly neat vinyl over the bookcase. His eyes slid to the hanging lights, polaroids stuck to the wall, the Enhypen albums neatly stacked on the desk but the thing that made him smile even more was the teddy bear lying on the bed.

"Oh? You sleep with a stuffed animal?»

"It’s not your business!" you slouched, crossing your arms at your chest. Jake grinned and, without thinking twice, threw himself on the bed as if it were his. He reached out nonchalantly, hands behind his head, body relaxed as if he were in his dorm with the other boys.

"Comfortable,» he commented, slowly sliding his hand along the edge of the blankets and then looking up at you, with that air he knew very well to drive you crazy.

"I was expecting something more... forbidden, you know? Seeing the things you write about me.» You came closer by snapping, grabbing him by the wrist in an attempt to pull him out of bed.

"Get off now!" exclaimed, trying to keep a steady tone, even if you were going completely tilt inside Jake laughed softly, but did not move.

"You shouldn’t be here, you’re a liar! I thought I was talking to an Enhypen fan, not you!"

Jake slowly lifted himself on his elbows and, with a fluid movement, grabbed your wrist, reversing the grip. His hand was warm and steady, the grip firm but not intrusive, and came slightly closer, your faces were dangerously close.

"I know,» he muttered with an enchanting smile. "Surely I played a dirty game with you...»

Jake tilted his head to the side, his eyes shining with pure fun.

"But tell me, Y/n, who is the one crazy between us?»

"What the hell do you mean?" Jake slowly let go of your wrist but remained close, his voice low and dangerously sweet.

"You write dirty stories about me.» Jake let himself be left again on the bed, making himself comfortable. " One-shot extremely spicy,» he continued, playing with the edge of your shirt. "Write about me that I do things that are definitely... forbidden.»

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," the liar, trying to keep your voice still.

Jake laughed. "Oh, you know. I read it all, Y/n. Everything.»

You stared. "Are you a stalker?!"

"No, princess, I would say that I am the protagonist of your dirty fantasies.»

"Stop it!"

"Why? Does it embarrass you? » he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Strange. You didn’t seem so shy when you wrote about me whispering obscene things in your ear.» You covered your face with your hands, mortified and Jake laughed again, but then his look became more intense.

"Tell me something,» he said, lowering his voice a little. "You’re so obsessed with me, why the hell did you write a one-shot about Heeseung?»

You were stuck for a moment. "What?" Jake crossed his arms behind his head, looking at you with a slightly annoyed air.

"I read everything. All your stories. And the fact that the last one was on Heeseung bothered me.» you stared at him, incredulous. " Did he give you... trouble?"

Jake sighed, sliding a hand through his blonde hair.

"Yes. Because I thought you were all about me.»

You bit your lower lip, trying to hide a smile. Was he... jealous?

"What does it matter? Maybe Heeseung is my true bias," you teased him, tilting his head to one side.

"Oh, so you like guys like Heeseung?»

You shrugged, trying to keep a neutral expression. "Maybe."

Jake gently grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Don’t say stupid things,» he murmured in a low voice. "I know very well that you always had eyes for me.»

Jake smiled, satisfied with your reaction, then stooped down again to you, his face a few inches from his.

«Then tell me, Y/n...» he touched your face with his fingers, almost distractedly. «Who is the crazier one of us?"

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating too fast, your breath too short, the skin hot where Jake’s fingers had touched it. What was he going to say? That yes, you were obsessed with him? That every scene you wrote for yourself seemed so real in your head that you lost sleep?

Jake tilted his head to one side, looking at her with that half-amused, half-dangerous smile. Then, without warning, he touched your cheek with his fingers.

«Here it’s all real, Y/n,» he muttered, his voice lower, deeper. «There is no game in action, no anonymous behind a screen. It’s just you and me.»

You felt a shiver run down your back. Why did he have to speak that way? With that tone that seemed like a promise and a threat together?

"You’re impossible," you slammed, trying to step back. "And a lying asshole, too, by the way!" Jake laughed softly, but in his eyes, there was something different. Something more intense and before you could go away, he grabbed you by the wrist and, with a fluid movement, pulled you over, and a moment later, you were riding on him.

"Jake!" you flapped your eyes, trying to move you but he held you with a steady hand on your back, holding you exactly where he wanted.

«Tell me something,» he muttered, looking you straight in the eye. «That scene you wrote... is how you imagined it» Jake lowered himself slightly, bringing his face closer to yours.

«Was this the position?» he whispered, his warm breath touching your skin, you could say nothing.

In the end, unable to sustain his gaze, you annuided and Jake smiled, but in his eyes, there was a predatory glow.

«Good girl», he whispered. And then without realizing it, he crashed his lips into yours, the kiss was not sweet. Or rather, it was for half a second.

His lips were resting on yours with a deceitful delicacy, as if they wanted to make fun of you, as if he was giving you time to run away but you did not run away and Jake understood it immediately.

His hands slowly slid down your back and then squeezed it harder, as if he wanted to taste you all the way. The kiss became deeper, more famished, and territorial.

You instinctively clung to Jake’s sweatshirt, fingers tucked in the fabric as you felt his body warm wherever he touched you. Jake wasn’t just kissing you, he was calling you.

Every movement of his lips against yours was decided, every touch of his hands on your curves was sure, every breath mixed with his said one thing: You are mine.

When you pulled away for a second, you were slightly panting, your cheeks burning, your chest rising and falling too quickly but Jake didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

«You will never write anything about anyone again,» he muttered, kissing you again.

Groaning against his lips, unable to resist him Jake smiled in the kiss and pressed you even more against himself.

«Only on me,» he whispered against your mouth, biting your lower lip slowly before letting it go.

«Got it?»

You couldn’t answer, too lost in him, in his smell, in his touch, in the way he seemed determined to leave his mark on you. You nodded your head and he pressed you even closer to him and said

«Good girl,» gently caressing your side. When you came off again you covered your face with your hands, mortified by the situation and Jake laughed softly, his breath still irregular.

«So? Will you write about Heeseung again?» He asked with a dangerous smirk, you gave him a pat on the shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that I was still sitting on top of him.

"You’re unbearable," you muttered. Jake laughed again, brushing his blond hair.

«I know, princess. But you know what the worst part is?»

You looked at him with curiosity. "What?"

Jake took your chin between two fingers and forced you to look at it.

«Now that I have kissed you, I have no intention of stopping here.»

You missed the breath and Jake came closer, his eyes burning.

«And this time, angel...» he touched your lower lip with his thumb.

«It will no longer be just your fantasy. Then, tell me Angel...» his voice was a rough whisper as he slowly caressed your back with his fingers. «That famous one-shot in which I was a vampire... what was the exact scene?»

"I don’t... I don’t know," you tried to answer, but Jake shook his head with a smirk.

«Oh no, you know very well,» you muttered, bowing your head as his hands slid down your waist, making you shiver. «I read it all, remember?»

You felt his cheeks burn and Jake came even closer, letting his warm breath touch your skin.

«The vampire,» he continued, with a low and deep voice, «takes the girl in his arms... holds her close to him...» And meanwhile, Jake recreated every movement. He pulled his hair to one side...» Jake did it. The tapered fingers gently picked your hair, revealing its bare neck. «... and start kissing her,» Jake ended, finally pressing his lips on your skin.

The first kiss was slow, almost innocent, but it was nothing more than a deception.

Jake continued to leave a trail of slow, warm kisses down his neck, the touch of his lips so light that it gave you the creeps. But then, suddenly, he sucked slightly at the skin and made a little surprised noise.

«That’s how you described it, wasn’t it? » he whispered in a low, husky voice.

You couldn’t answer it was impossible and Jake continued, alternating kisses and sucking, leaving a trail of marks on his fair skin. As if he wanted to mark it and then, without warning, he bit you.

A slight bite barely hinted at, but it was enough to give you a sound that had never come out of his lips before.

"J-Jakey..." moaned softly, clinging to him and Jake froze for a second. That nickname on your lips? Damn.

You felt his breath getting heavier, something in him had changed and it squeezed you even more.

«Y/n,» he muttered, returning to your neck, the voice more raucous than before. «Say it again.»

You shook your head, embarrassed and Jake said to you: «You will say it, because from this moment on, every sound that comes out of your mouth will be mine and you will moan my name.»

You were anxious when Jake continued his torturing game, alternating deep kisses, bites, and suckers; it seemed that he did not want to let you escape.

Your hands clenched in the fabric of his sweatshirt with legs slightly trembling around his hips.

«If you keep on like that...» Jake mumbled against your neck, his voice scratched by the birthmark, «I will not stop, angel.»

He gave you a second of his nickname: Angel.

Jake took a break, looking for his gaze. «Tell me what you want», he said with burning eyes.

You stared at him, then you did the only thing that you could do at that moment. You kissed him. A hungry, desperate kiss, without any hesitation and Jake moaning softly against your mouth, almost lost it altogether.

"I want to continue," you said softly, and Jake stared at you for a moment. «Good girl,» he muttered, kissing you again and gently making you lie in your bed and he looked at you this time with a look full of lust but also of sweetness and respect for you.

Jake slipped his hands on your hips and stroked those fucking bows you had in your shirt and wanted to tell you that at the fan meeting, he would want to touch you but maybe it was better not, Because otherwise you would be scared to know all that he had thought when he saw you live that day.

Grunts against your neck, sinking her teeth into a new area of skin and sucking where she had previously gently bit you «All my fucking», repeats, squeezing your hips tighter and rubbing up into your still fully covered pants and in your center ever closer to him, his lips separate from your neck with a loud, moist snap and connect to yours with enthusiasm, You pulled his hair slightly when you felt that he had added tongue and were rubbing up and down with your bodies.

"Jake" whispered with his lips as he looked into his eyes as if he wanted to reproduce all those scenes you had written with him as the protagonist, He touched your pajama shorts and with one movement pulled down both your pants and your panties and you did not expect this gesture and shivered in feeling your hot excited area but at the same time the temperature of the room that was cool.

Jake leaned slightly down and looked at your pussy which was already excited by the kisses, the lollipops he gave you, and the stimulation of rubbing up and down; «You’re a disaster here», comments, eyes lit up with joy as he sees you slightly wiggling in embarrassment and without wasting time slips his fingers and starts caressing your folds, the fingers that slip between your excitement with embarrassing ease.

«Fuck, you were just waiting for this, look ready for me!» His deep voice vibrated against your skin as he pressed his lips against your thigh. A small sigh fell from your lips as his tongue split your folds before wrapping her lips around your clitoris, sucking greedily and gently.

A high-pitched whimper escaped from your lungs as he clung back to your clitoris, his teeth brushing the little bundle of nerves, leaving you breathless. "Jake-Jakey!" you cursed, the hand flew to your mouth when he added two fingers at once, widening your walls even further.

Jake chuckled at you, savoring the way your thighs had begun to shake around his head. He knew you were close; you needed a little more to get there.

«Cum for me, baby; let me taste you on my tongue like a good girl.» He tubed before diving back into your sweet pussy.

His words were all you needed to give in, your back bowing against the bed, pushing your hips even more against his face as you came.

«Let go of yourself completely.»

"Ja-Jake" You complained, one of your hands tangled in its dark tufts as its nose pushed against your aching clitoris. It was only when you were withering away from the burning sensation of overstimulation that you gave.

He pulled his fingers soapy from your pussy and took them to his lips, licking away all your essence, making you moan behind your hand as you covered your face.

«Don’t be shy with me now, baby; you’re beautiful. Who knows what your readers would say if they knew that the writer of stories spicy now is moaning my name» He bowed, catching your lips with his in a deep and messy kiss.

«We both know you’re not shy, I bet when you were writing about me this pussy was completely excited!»

Your hand wrapped around his neck as you moaned at him for the taste of yourself on his lips.

"Jake, please." You felt his hips press against yours.

«Please, what, pretty girl?» He whispered as she walked away, leaning back over you.

"I need you so much, Jake." You cried, tears of need and despair filling your eyes, causing Jake to make a mockery of you. It was all so real what you were feeling and you were afraid that it was just a dream and you were selfish on your part but once in your life, you wanted to have Jake all for yourself and at that moment you wanted him inside of you with all of yourself. Next thing you know, he wrapped his arm around your hips, lifting them off the bed before grabbing the pillow near your head that you weren’t using. Putting it under your body, he made you lie down again before making sure that you were comfortable. Sitting down, he took off his suit and panties, letting his aching cock free. Then he put his big hand on your thigh, separating it once more.

A small lament came out of your lips at the sight of Soobin’s enormous size, you didn’t know if you would take it all.

«Are you ready, angel?» He asked, looking up at you and noticing that you were staring at him with wide eyes, but you still nodded. Giggling, he leaned over you, his lips touching yours again, «Words, Y/n»

"Yes, please!" you said looking at them cock while he sucked it lightly

His lips met yours as he pushed slowly against your narrow walls, swallowing all the sweet sounds you made.

«God you’re so fucking tight.» Jake moaned as you huddled around him.

He turned his hips, a choked groan came down from your lips as your hand wrapped around her biceps.

"Move, Jake, I’m not a doll." You choked, your head falling backward against the pillows while he kissed your neck, nibbling on your exposed collarbones.

«So impatient, I bet when you were writing those obscene things about me, you couldn’t have thought that I would take you so well ?» He chuckled before hitting your walls. His rhythm was anything but gentle; at every push, his tip kissed your cervix, leaving you a whiny mess.

"Jakey!" You shouted his name when he moved just enough to touch your weak point. Your nails got stuck in his shoulder pads while you tried to hold him even closer; he was just fucking you too well.

«Fuck baby, look how deep I am and how well you’re taking me.»

He moaned as you felt the outline of his cock against your stomach, you didn’t think that Jake whom everyone described as a good guy and some kind of puppy was fucking you so well and at the same time as you described him in your one-shot. "Jake! I am close," you cried, as you heard that spiral in the pit of your stomach tighten.

«Come for me, angel. Be a good girl and come all over my dick.» His words were the last drop before the edges of your sight became white and your body contracted under his.

His breaths began to come out with difficulty as she fucked you through your orgasm and closer to hers.

«Fuck, it’s so beautiful!» he crowed, his whole body trembling as he came, painting your walls white with his seed. Slowing down until he stopped, he lay down against you, face buried in your neck as you both came down from your heights.

Feeling finally recover, open your eyes, watching Jake as you raise your hand to run his fingers through his messy hair, he wraps himself around you and my his head over yours and kisses your forehead gently.

You were in Jake’s arms, still shaken by the intensity of what had just happened. He held you, with one hand gently caressing his back, and the other holding it close to him. Her lips were touching each other as they chuckled, as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving only them two.

«So?" Jake whispered, his voice soft but provocative, «Who was better? Me in real life or in your one-shot?» His eyes shone with amusement, while a mischievous smile brushed his lips.

You looked up at him, your heart still beating. "You are extremely good even in reality," you murmured your face that was tinged with a slight redness.

Jake looked at you intensely, as if he was trying to read every thought that passed through your mind. With a sweeter smile, he came closer, touching your face with one hand. «What is it?» He asked, more seriously, sensing something was wrong.

You looked down, feeling a knot in your throat. "It was beautiful," you said softly, "What we have lived together. But I know that, in a little while, you will return to your world, to your idol world. And I... you are just a dream that lasts for a short time."

Jake looked at you intensely, as if those words had struck him right in the heart. With a gesture that seemed to protect her from any doubt, he squeezed you even more tightly in his arms, as if he wanted to keep you there, safe, for a little longer.

«I don’t want it to end like this,» he said in a steady voice, a touch of sadness in the tone. « I want to do it with you again a thousand times. And I want to ask you something... a real proposition.»

You looked at him confused and surprised. Jake continued, chuckling with that usual lightness of his, but in his eyes, there was something deeper. «Would you like to go out with me, angel? A real date this time. No games, no pretenses. Just you and me?»

Taglist: @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @immelissaaa @d4-b1 @firstclassjaylee @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovel1lz @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss

Comments and rebblog are appreciated

#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfic #jake sim x reader #jake sim fluff #jake enhypen #jake sim smut #jake sim imagines #jake imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen hyung line #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours

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firstruleofmethclub · 1 day ago

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I know this isn't technically the tags, but it's because I'm gonna put something else in the tags.

I think that a lot of what is really "worst" movies that are out there are the sort that were made on shoestring budgets. Some microbudget movies are genuinely really good, but a lot just aren't. Often the movies that just don't have a single likeable thing in them are made this way, and getting through them is just a chore. (I'll put a list of some of the most egregious ones in the tags).

But "nothing I liked" is outclassed by "something I HATED". And it's to bigger budgets we turn for things like that. Movies that evoke genuine, roiling anger. Even if they maybe had a likeable person in them, or an arguably good performance, or a good sequence, or a cool design, over all they just infuriate you, and have you shouting "WHY" at the screen. That's the sort of thing you're more likely to find in macrobudget (or when it's in lower cost brackets, it's usually lower cost Oscar-bait).

For mine I think it's a tie between Transformers 4 and Transformers 5. Of the two, I did objectively spend much more of my time in the latter being completely bewildered and saying out loud "Why?? Why is this happening??" than I did in the former. But Transformer's 4 has that thing where they stop the movie dead to look directly into the camera and say "Hey adults in the audience, it's actually cool and normal to have sex with teenagers, here's a legal precedent if you're worried about those pesky 'law' things getting in the way", so, sixawun I guess.

What would you guys consider the worst movie you've ever seen? Not something that's fun to make fun of, nothing you ironically enjoyed, I mean just an absolutely miserable moviegoing experience that you paid for, hated every second, and wish you had walked out of and asked for a refund.

For me, no joke, Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted. It did not even feel like a real movie to me. It made me see red! I was SEETHING with anger and annoyance throughout the entire thing, and I cannot for the life of me articulate why. I saw it once in 2012 when I was 15, I remember almost nothing about it now, but it struck a nerve with me like no other movie ever has before or since.

Tell me in the tags, which movie makes you disproportionately angry just thinking about it?

#there's plenty of unbearable trash that didn't cost hundreds of millions of dollars to make though #think about never checking out:#Alone in the Dark (2005)#Curse of the Zodiac (2007)#Psycho Shark (2009)#Mega Piranha (2010)#Monster Brawl (2011)#Bloody Mary (2011)#2-Headed Shark Attack (2012)#Tape 407 (2012)#Return of the Killer Shrews (2012)#All Saints Eve (2015)#Raiders of the Lost Shark (2015)#The Reconciler (2015)#Voodoo Rising (2016)#Ghastlies (2016)#Granny of the Dead (2017)#Post Apocalyptic Commando Shark (2018)#The Evil Down the Street (2019)#Amityville Island (2020)#The Serpent (2021)#They Turned Us into Killers (2024)#and think REALLY hard about never checking out Space Sharks (2024)#...If I'm honest a big part of me thought about doing ''Call Me By Your Name'' for my main screed about a movie I fucking hate #but tumblr doesn't feel like it's ready to have that conversation #gimly

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 2 days ago

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The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 11

Source for pic

Trouble 11 🔞

Word Count: 6979

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: Okay, you guys know I like to write smut, but in this story... it just felt so oddly out of place to just write a "porn" scene. So it evolved... it's something deeper. I hope it's still satisfying to read, I've put some thought in it. That being said, special warning for this chapter: NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content, MDNI.

Masterlist

“I knew you’d be here.” Zoro drawls as he enters Mihawk’s office and closes the door behind him. “The workaholic that you are.”

His captain sneers, his amber eyes never leaving the folders he has neatly scattered in front of him in a controlled chaos on his desk.

“Takes one to know one.”

Zoro glances at bloodied pair of hands in one of the photos and sighs. “Still no leads?”

“We’re nowhere close. I feel like we’re missing something crucial. If I just–”

“I think I know who he wants.”

Mihawk’s gaze finally leaves the photos and reports and settles on Zoro. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in his pupil’s dishevelled form and leans back on his office chair, entwining his hands as he crosses his legs, waiting for Zoro to continue.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I’m pretty sure.”

“Spill it out, Roronoa.”

And Zoro does. With a deep sigh, he shares his worries about how you’ve become distant, ghost-like, a shell of your former self. He shares details about the gifts you received earlier and the way you’ve been acting as if someone is watching you. He tells Mihawk that Lucci flirted with you at the yacht party and that the store clerk did too. Too many fucking coincidences.

But more importantly, he describes the bruise he saw on your wrist today. It seemed somewhat recent, but worse than that, it looked dangerous.

“And she’s not letting me in! She keeps pushing me away when all I want to do is help! If this fucker–”

“Language.”

“...is the one doing this to her, he’s fucking deranged and needs to be fucking stopped!”

Zoro keeps pacing the office, twirling one of Mihawk’s chess pieces in his hands as he seethes and rages.

“I understand your concerns, Roronoa, but you’re far too invested in this. It’s personal for you and–”

“Damn right it’s fucking personal!”

Mihawk sighs, his index finger and thumb pressing against the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop an oncoming headache.

“I agree with you, coincidences don’t happen like that in our line of work. But I need you to be sure. Take an emotional step back and analyse it.” Zoro opens his mouth to interject, but Mihawk rises in his chair, hands supporting his weight on the desk as he leans forward, forcing Zoro to listen. “What if the gifts were only from an admirer? What if there’s something personal in her life making her act the way she’s acting? There’s no assurance she’s being harassed by the person who’s committing these crimes.”

Zoro’s eye burns into Mihawk, and he grips the back of the chair with so much force he can hear the wood groan beneath his hands.

“She’s not like this. She’s not herself. I know her.” Mihawk opens his mouth, but Zoro turns on his heel with a hiss. “Fine. I’ll investigate myself, and when I bring you all the fucking evidence you need, you just make sure the fucking bastard rots in jail.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.” Zoro stops, his hand gripping the doorknob as his jaw clenches and unclenches. “You go keep her safe. I’m calling the special squad from the city precinct. If we’re dealing with the same person, I’m sure he’s not acting alone.”

A deep exhale leaves Zoro’s lips as he closes his eye, his chest feeling lighter. You might not want his help, you might want to push him away, but he’s not giving up on you.

Never.

He nods and turns the doorknob just as Mihawk’s phone starts ringing. Zoro’s about to leave when his captain stops him by calling his name. When he turns, Mihawk’s wrinkles are more prominent, he has a hand in the air to signal Zoro to wait and is nodding at whatever is being said to him over the line.

With a heavy sigh and something that resembles a small grin, Mihawk bends over his desk to gather the photos and neatly stacks the folders, then locks eyes with his pupil. “The store clerk wants to have a word with us, crucial information, he’s saying.”

Crucial? Zoro’s chest tightens again. He knows it’s about you.

“Are you coming?”

Mihawk’s question feels daunting. Obviously, he wants to go, but what about you? Are you all right? He can’t stop thinking about that damned bruise on your wrist. What if the fucker who did that to you wants to finish the job?

“Can I meet you there? I just want–”

“To make sure she’s safe?” His Captain’s tone could be perceived as teasing, if Zoro believed his Captain to actually feel any kind of emotions. “Go, Roronoa. Meet me there, or I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Dismissed.”

The knots in Zoro’s stomach finally loosen. He’ll solve this fucking case and protect you.

He won’t let you push him away anymore.

-*-

Fear turns your insides into jelly, and your breath comes out in irregular wisps. He was in your room. He put his hand on your hair. What else could he have done– no. What else did he do?

Nausea churns your stomach, and you muffle a sob, your eyes still boring into the polaroid. Mine. That possessive scrawl summons another whimper and you rise from your bed with a start. This has to stop.

You can't tell Zoro, but you'll talk to his captain.

Fighting back tears, you shake your head, trying to push away the phantom sensation of his hands on your hair, and grabbing your phone and polaroid - evidence - you rush downstairs, putting on your sneakers and not bothering to dress in anything else before you bolt out the door and into your car.

By the time you reach the police station, your cheeks feel wet and puffy from all the crying and as soon as you push open the heavy doors, your heart thrums against your chest.

Bzzzz.

Unknown: Wrong move, Kitten. Are you sure you want to do this?

Yes. You have to. This has to end.

Unknown: Telling the cops is the same as telling THE cop. I'll still hurt him.

No. No!

Every time you feel like you’ve found a way out, he blocks it. It’s impossible to get away from him.

The bright lights from the station force your eyes upwards, and you put your phone away with shaky hands. Searching the almost empty station only makes you more nauseous, and as a kind policewoman talks to you, you take a step back.

“Miss? Do you need any help?”

Yes! Oh, God, you need all the help you can get. But he just said Zoro will still come out of this hurt.

The bomb threat, the constant calls to duty, that week Zoro was called away… it all comes down to him. He can easily manipulate Zoro, and Zoro doesn't even know he's being played.

“No. No. I'm fine, this was a mistake.”

The policewoman calls after you, but you're already halfway out the door, tears mixing with the unforgiving rain, which comes down to darken your mood.

And then you hear him. Your lifeline, your anchor.

Safety.

“Trouble?”

Zoro.

With the loudest sob you've ever released in your life, you turn back to face him. He looks worried and frazzled. Mihawk lingers by his side for a beat, saying something too low for you to hear, to which Zoro nods, then the captain leaves with a subtle nod and a worried gaze your way. Zoro sighs, his hair is already dampening from the rain as he hastens towards you.

You want to hug him. You need to feel the strength of his arms enveloping you - protecting you. Instead, you hug yourself, shivering violently both from the helplessness of it all and from the cold rain.

Zoro releases a stubborn noise and quickly pulls you under the building and away from the rain. Then he sheds his jacket and helps shelter you with his oversized clothes.

It's warmth. It's safety. It's protection.

“You're shivering.” He states, his hand smoothing your disheveled hair as he takes in your appearance. You see the way his jaw clenches and the way his eyes darken. He wants answers, but you can see he doesn't want to press too hard or too fast. “I'll take you home, and we'll talk.”

“No!” Instantly, you cling to his shirt, eyes pleading with his.

“Fuck, Trouble. Enough is enough! We will talk, and–”

“Not that… don't take me home… please.” Home is now tainted. He can get into your sanctuary, it’s not safe.

Zoro stops arguing and his hand finds yours, holding it against his chest, trying both to calm you as well as to search for answers in your panicked gaze. He finds none. “Okay. My home, then.”

Bzzzz.

You ignore the buzz and tuck the crumpled photo into the pocket near your phone, where Zoro won’t pry, even though you clearly see him struggling to keep his hands still. Once again, he’s giving you space, not pushing anything. He’s just there.

He holds your hand as you both make a run to his car. The small distance from the station to the car has you both drenched, though your sniffles are a consequence of much more than that.

Zoro starts the car and you stay silent. Even though you tucked the photo into your pocket, its image still burns holes into your mind’s eye. The stalker is becoming bolder, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.

You might buy another night of safety just by being next to Zoro, but does your safety bring about his demise? Just the thought has you sobbing uncontrollably again, and you hear Zoro groaning next to you.

He still doesn’t press. It’s like, in between the time you left him at the club and now, he’s made up his mind about something as he’s, somehow calmer.

When he parks the car and you both enter his apartment, the first thing he does is take away the wet jacket from your back, hand you a dry towel and shove you in the bathroom for you to dry off. Then, when you emerge, looking small and fragile, he hands you a dry, green, oversized sweater, and you pull it over your head.

It smells like Zoro. It’s home.

You shove your clenched fist inside the pocket and store the phone and picture in the safety of the fabric.

“Thank you.” You say, softly. He nods and grabs your shivering hand, pulling you towards the couch and making you sit near a steaming cup of tea, that you know you won’t touch. You’re still too shaken, too nauseous.

But even though you can’t tell Zoro anything about why you’re behaving the way you are, there’s still something you want to say to him. Something important.

“Zo…”

“Yes?” He’s eager to hear all you have to say, you can tell, but what you want to tell him won’t be enough for him. But maybe it will be enough to keep the stalker tame, since you know he’s bound to be furious that you sought refuge with Zoro once more.

You sigh and clutch Zoro’s hand tighter, your eyes boring into the way his hand engulfs yours. “I– I didn’t mean any of what I said. You matter to me… a lot.”

Zoro sighs too, and you know this isn’t exactly what he wanted to hear. Then, his index finger and thumb tip your chin upwards forcing you to look at him. “I know that.” A very light chuckle leaves his lips and he leans his forehead forward to touch yours. “I know it.” He repeats and you feel his hot breath fanning against your lips.

“Still, I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just… I just wanted…”

“To push me away?” He’s right. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s the truth. “Why? What’s gotten you so shaken up? Let me in…” Zoro’s face moves, his eye boring into yours as he hovers near your lips, they brush together, barely touching. It’s clear he doesn’t want to force anything.

But you can’t hold back anymore. You need him.

“Zoro…” Your hand squeezes his, and you angle your face. You shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t. But… Zoro makes you feel so safe. He gives you purpose. He grounds you. And you’ve been feeling so lost and out of control lately that, just for a little bit, you want to feel like yourself.

“Trouble…” Zoro finally leans in, taking your lips in his, and you sigh, your hand climbing to his shirt as you grip it tighter, pulling him towards you until you’re both flush. His hand travels to your nape, his fingers entwining with your hair.

And then, just as his tongue traces your lower lip, begging to deepen the connection, your phone buzzes and you know Zoro feels it too.

You gasp when he breaks the kiss abruptly, his hand traveling to your pocket like he wants to get to the bottom of this for once, but you reach first, pulling the device out in a rush and strangling a whimper between your lips.

It’s at this moment that everything happens in slow motion: you clasp the phone tighter to your chest, keeping it safe from Zoro’s clutches, but fail to notice as a piece of paper gets dragged behind in the motion and flutters to Zoro’s lap. Another gasp steals your breath, but you’re powerless to stop what happens next.

Zoro picks up the photo and stares at it for what seems like forever.

You shiver and whimper as Zoro’s eye darkens. His jaw clenches tight, and you can see his knuckles turning white from how tightly he’s holding the photo. “What the fuck…?” Zoro’s voice comes out rasp, thick with raw fury, and it almost seems like the temperature has dropped.

“Zo…”

“Do you know him?” Zoro’s gaze never leaves the photo.

You whimper and shake your head. You can’t speak, you can’t tell him anything. The way you’re risking his safety just by him seeing this is already twisting your insides into impossible knots.

“Was he the one who did that?” Zoro growls pointing to your covered wrist. This time, a buzz from your phone is answer enough for him. He lunges forward, barely giving you time to react as his hand swipes the phone from your grasp in a quick motion.

“No!” You shout, rising after him as Zoro checks the screen for the incoming messages.

“You should’ve stayed home, Kitten? I told you not to say anything to the cop?” Zoro’s gaze snaps to you and he holds out the phone, the device shakes alongside his hand. “Unlock it.”

You shake your head, frantic tears spilling down your cheeks as you feel helpless. “No, no, Zoro I can’t! He’ll hurt you!”

“Now, Trouble.” Zoro takes a step forward and his aura is so intense that you nearly shrink away from him. With a shaky hand you use your fingertip to unlock the device and slump back into the couch, unforgiving tears marring your face as ugly sobs wrack your body.

You couldn’t even keep Zoro safe.

You just had to leave the house. You couldn’t even handle him yourself.

Useless. Idiot. Coward.

Now if something happens to Zoro, how can you ever forgive yourself?

“Such a good Kitten?” Zoro paces the living room, his hand running through his damp locks as his face twists with each new text he reads. “The punishment worked? His arms around what’s mine? Hurt the cop?”

Zoro keeps growling and scrolling as you curl into a ball on the couch, raising your knees to your chest and hugging them tight. At one point you hear Zoro release a string of curses as he hits the punching bag he has hanging in the corner repeatedly. The dry thuds of his punches bring a new set of tears to your eyes.

He strides back to you with purposeful steps, showing you the phone. “How long?” You just sniff and curl further. Zoro grunts and swipes furiously, not bothering with reading anything anymore, just wanting to finally grasp the situation. “Weeks and weeks and weeks? Fuck!”

Zoro slams the phone on the coffee table so hard he might have broken the screen. Then, he kneels in front of you, taking deep steadying breaths to try and calm himself down. He sets his trembling hands on top of yours, leaning his head against your knees with a defeated groan.

“I’m not angry at you.” He whispers. “I just can’t stand the fact that you’ve been facing this alone.” He sounds impotent, powerless, and helpless. All words you would never associate with Roronoa Zoro. And the thought that he’s feeling like this because of you churns your insides and makes your chest constrict and ache.

So you raise your head, a sniffle still making you shiver as you run your fingers through his green locks, tugging slightly until he looks at you. “I couldn’t tell you, Zoro… He–”

“He said he’d hurt me. I read.” Zoro scoffs like that is a preposterous idea, and you grimace. He needs to stop thinking he’s invincible.

“He’s dangerous, Zo…”

“So am I.” Zoro’s smirk is as endearing as it is unhinged, but only for a small moment. Then his head slumps forward again and he lowers his hands, placing them on your calves. “I just can’t help but feel like… like I’ve failed you.”

“You didn't know.”

“Still–”

“Zo.” You let your legs fall open to the side so you can lower your head and be face-to-face with him. As your thumb caresses soothing circles on his cheek, you cup his face. “Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault.”

Your eyes lock, and the air shifts. Zoro cups your cheek and nearly growls. “I won't let him lay one finger on you.” It sounds like a promise.

“I know.”

Your foreheads touch and your fingers lower to grasp his wet shirt, pulling him closer.

“You're not his!” Zoro hisses the word as if it's venomous. “He doesn't fucking own you.”

Zoro's hand grips your nape, desperation seeping through his touch, and you nod and agree, already breathless. “I know.”

“Fuck!” Zoro channels his fury into his lips and crashes them against yours. A soft mewl escapes you as you melt into the intensity of his kiss, your arms climbing and wrapping like a vice around his neck. It’s not cautious or romantic - it’s desperate and messy, clingy and demanding.

You feel Zoro's grip on your neck like a steadying pressure. Then, his other hand climbs your thighs and clasps your hip, pulling you effortlessly against him, closer to the edge of the couch. Moulding into his touch, you wrap your legs around his torso at the same time as he deepens the kiss. It starts with a soft nibble on your lower lip and evolves into him sucking on it until you grant him full access to your tongue.

Zoro's throaty noises against your mouth are kindling to your flame, and you whimper carelessly, forgetting for a moment about the danger that surrounds you both. That's all it takes for him to hook his hands under your thighs and lift you effortlessly, never breaking your hungered kiss as he stumbles blindly towards his bedroom.

You need him.

You desperately need him.

Your fingers travel to the hem of his shirt, and you tug harshly, as if the clothing item has personally offended you just by existing. You both gasp for air as Zoro helps you pull the shirt over his head, letting it fall carelessly somewhere in the hallway.

Damn.

Zoro could very well be a statue of a deity. He's so firm and well-defined.

Damn!

He chuckles as you bite your lower lip and stare. Your fingers trace his abs and pecs, and an absent sigh leaves your lips. Zoro uses the moment to find his way through the bedroom door and throws you on the bed, immediately following you and latching his lips to yours again.

You unbutton your jeans and shimmy out of them because his touch is igniting a fire that needs to be put out immediately, before you combust. The way his calloused fingers travel your bare legs has you panting into his mouth, and you wrap the limbs around his waist again, pulling him towards you and feeling just how hard he already is.

Zoro swallows your mewl and palms your ass, pulling you harshly closer to him, the friction of his jeans on your clothed clit burning like the hottest fire. Unrestrained, uncontrolled fire. It's exactly what you want.

Arching into his touch, you feel his hand slither inside your shirt, groping flesh, feeling, claiming, but his movements are restricted, and he groans as he parts with you, pulling you upward so he can hook his fingers under your clothes to finally get rid of them. “Off.” He growls, and you nearly melt.

Zoro’s intensity is only equal to the fire burning in his eyes. It's not just exactly what you want, it’s precisely what you need.

He gets rid of your clothes, and the minute you're bare to him, you shiver under his hungry stare.

And then he freezes.

You cock your head to the side, your hands stilling their motions on his arms as you try to grasp what’s going on. It’s only when a gargled sound leaves his lips and you follow his gaze that you understand what’s going on: the bite mark.

Zoro opens and closes his mouth as your eyes widen, your hand instinctively raising to cover up the mark. But he’s faster. He grips your hand to stop you, his eyes unwavering, though the tremble of his hand betrays his composure.

“Zoro…”

“Are those fucking teeth marks?” Zoro’s voice hits a low, dangerous tone. “What else have you kept hidden from me? Where else has that motherfucker touched you?” Zoro raises your arms, moves your legs, looking for something that’s not there, his teeth clenching so hard you can hear them grind, and his muscles drawn so taut, all the veins in his arms are prominent. “I’m going to kill that fucker for ever laying a finger on you.”

You stop his frantic search, your own hands stilling his as you search his eyes. “Zoro–”

“No, Trouble! Fuck!” Zoro punches the mattress twice, you can almost feel the fury seeping out of him in waves. “I failed you! I didn’t protect you, I–”

“Stop!” Cupping his cheek, you force his gaze back onto your face. His nostrils flare with heavy breaths, and a single tear travels down your cheek. “Zo… he already took so much from me.” A sob shakes your shoulders, and you pull Zoro closer. “Don’t let him take this too… please!” Zoro groans. “Please…”

It takes him a few seconds to breathe out all of his fury - to contain it - and even then, you can still feel it brimming under the surface.

Still, his gaze softens as he stares back into your eyes with a small, condescending nod. Then he presses his lips against yours again, though this time it's much softer. He starts slowly, lazily taking your tongue in his as he lays your body back down on the bed with controlled movements.

He only parts the kiss to remove his pants, then he settles his body in the middle of your legs and starts worshiping you. Zoro’s touch went from intense to soft; from ravishing to reverent; from a raging fire to a slow ember.

He grabs your hip as his lips travel from your belly button to your sternum, then to your breast, where his tongue comes out and swirls around a perky nipple. You gasp and arch into his mouth, then feel his hand tremble against your hip, as if he wants to grab you harder but stops himself from doing it.

Then his fingers hook on the hem of your panties, and he pulls them down, his tongue never ceasing the dizzying motion around your erect nipple. You let out an unbridled moan, and he grunts, his hands now rough on the back of your thighs as he spreads them open. Zoro lifts his head away from your breast, clenches his teeth, and his touch softens again.

It feels… wrong.

So you reach, helping him out of his boxers and touching him, trying to bring back that intensity and fire that you so desperately need, that he was so willing to give before. His cock is thick and veiny, and he lets out a throaty mumble when you stroke it softly, the coil of desire wound tight in your belly.

“Zo,” you try, “let go.” He nods softly as his hand cups your cheek and he claims your lips. The kiss is urgent, and you relent. It’s almost what you need. Then his hand travels from your neck to your back and he positions your back against the bed, angling himself with your wet folds, his tip probing slowly.

A moan leaves your lips as you move against him, but he doesn’t thrust - not yet. You look at him and see clearly the way he’s trying to control himself: a tightness of his jaw, the unrestrained anger behind his eyes.

His touch is featherlight, and he holds you almost as if he's afraid to break you. Then Zoro takes a deep breath and finally sheathes himself inside of you.

Your head falls back in abandon as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling him closer. The stretch feels good. But there's something amiss.

“Fuck.” Zoro curses, his brows furrowed tightly as he pulls back torturously slowly, and you whine, shaking your head.

“Stop, Zoro, stop.” The press of your hand against his chest along with your words makes him halt, his eye widening as he searches for any sign of pain. Instead, he finds frustration.

“You're holding back.” It's not a question. It's a statement. He sighs, head slumping forward as his jaw sets.

“I don't… he… fuck! I can't hurt you, you've been through so much and I'm… I'm so furious!” Another punch against the mattress helps Zoro vent some frustration. “I can’t control myself.”

You trace soothing circles against the tautness of his biceps. It's physically visible the way he's controlling himself. “It's not what I need right now, Zo. I've been feeling trapped, held ransom, controlled! I need to feel free… I need to feel like myself. I have to be in control.”

Zoro's gaze falls to yours again, and you hold him there.

“I need all of you. Let go.” He's still breathing hard, weighing his options, making sure that's what you want. “I want to feel like he doesn't own me.”

Your words cut through Zoro's thoughts like a sharp blade, and you see that unrestrained rage clawing its way from behind his erect walls. He minces your words for a few moments, and you feel the change happening. Zoro grabs your waist tighter, his fingers digging deep into your skin, making you gasp. Closing his eye, Zoro takes a deep breath, and when he opens it again, there's a fire burning deep.

“Trouble…” He grips tighter, his lips kissing your skin, pressing, claiming. “You know how much I like you, don't you?”

A shiver courses through you, the air feels different - heavier, thicker - filled with tension and unspoken words.

“Yeah. I think I do.” You nod softly, feeling his gaze baring you in a way that being naked never could.

“Good.” Then he steals your breath with an earth-shattering kiss. Fiery, determined, desperate. His teeth sink into your lip, and you moan as his tongue swallows the noise. When he breaks it, you're panting with flushed cheeks. “Cause I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

And he does just that.

In an instant he's thrusting again, a deep, shattering thrust. Zoro pulls your hips against his body at the same time and you cry out his name in surprise.

Everything feels like desperation and want. His thrusts are relentless, each one harder than the last, each one hitting deeper.

It's this! This was exactly what you wanted!

“Oh, God, God!” You pant, throwing your head back as Zoro grabs, bites, nips and licks every bit of flesh he can get his hands and mouth on.

“This what you want, Trouble?” Zoro lifts your butt to angle it the right way, his hand pressing down on your stomach to tighten your walls against his throbbing cock, and suddenly, you're hit with blinding, hot, pleasure. “This what you need?”

“Yes! Zo! God!” You moan, a litany of mewls that sound like a prayer. You chant his name over and over again as you feel pleasure building up. You can't think, you can only feel!

“I don't believe in deities, Trouble. It's all me.” His grunt is primal and possessive as his grip tightens and you clench him, an instinctive response to his claim. The unholy squelches fill the room like an erotic symphony and you’re lost in bliss.

Then Zoro chuckles darkly as he watches you almost break apart beneath him, your legs thrown carelessly as your nails bite and dig into his tanned skin. “Harder?” He asks, breathless as he pulls back, dragging his cock against your walls and then thrusting with such force that the moan that leaves your lips sounds foreign. “Faster?” He thrusts again, relentless, hitting your G spot with such precision that you're pretty sure your brain is melting.

Zoro's forehead glistens with perspiration as he feels you tightening around him. He's numbing every thought, every feeling of helplessness, filling your mind with just one thing: Zoro, Zoro, Zoro! Another harsh thrust makes you tip over the brink, and the rough touch of the pad of his thumb against your clit in an unforgiving motion, has you spiraling and falling. Zoro's name spills out of your lips laced in moans and praise and you feel more like yourself than you have felt since this nightmare started.

Still, he barely lets you recover.

Your body still trembles and shakes as you come down from your high when he flips both of you, laying his back on the bed with you on top, riding him. You brace your hands against his taut chest to try and ground yourself with a gasp as he shows you a cocky smirk. “You wanted control? Take it.”

You feel yourself clenching in response to his teasing words. You did say you wanted to feel in control, but you barely have strength to hold your head straight, let alone ride this man. Zoro’s hands rest on your hips, but he doesn't move. He doesn't guide you or thrust into you. He just waits.

Slowly you begin to rock your body, the waves of the previous pleasure still rippling through you, pulling another lazy mewl from your lips as you feel every vein of his cock dragging against your walls, hitting deeper than you thought possible. Zoro lets out a strangled groan as his digits create indents against the flesh of your thighs. He gasps and clenches his jaw, and you realise you are in absolute control of how you're making him feel.

It's empowering.

But it's not what you need.

Zoro sees the way you start to struggle, trying to fall back into the relentless pace he set, but failing miserably. It's pleasurable, but it's not mind-numbing.

His hands stroke your thighs as he lets out a raspy breath, his cock twitching inside of you, pulling a whimper from your parted lips. “Just ask for it.” He mumbles and your throat tightens.

You know that his words have a much deeper meaning. He's not just telling you to ask for more. He's telling you to ask for his help. Like you should've done. All these weeks spent in suffocating silence, in a desperate struggle to just survive, and he was right there…

“Say it.”

Your nails dig into his chest and you stop your futile motions. “Help me, Zo…”

It's so much more than a request to take control. It's a plea. It's a cry for protection.

And he answers.

A heavy sigh parts his lips as his hands grip your hips, holding you steady. Then he pounds you with a strength you didn't know he possessed. You can't hold back your moans as your body arches for him, head thrown back in rapture as another wave of pleasure starts to crest deep inside your belly.

Zoro grunts and lets out a string of curses as he feels your cunt clenching him and squeezing him, his hands bruise, his pace quickens.

And then you fall with a loud cry.

Zoro's right behind you.

He lifts his body, holding you tight against him as he buries his head in the crook of your neck and comes undone with a groan, his body stilling against yours in a crushing hug.

It takes you both a few moments to calm your breaths, your heart rates evening out slowly, though you're both still lost in each other's embrace.

“All you had to do was let me in, Trouble.”

His breathless words cut deep, and this time you truly shatter.

Your body heaves and tears sting your eyes. Even though you try to control your sobs, you can't, and you hug Zoro tighter. He's still buried deep within you because neither of you wants to move, but his hand caresses your back in a soothing motion.

“You're safe now. I won't let him touch you again.” He mumbles, though his words tremble with rage, and you know he's making much more than a promise: it's a vow. Then his lips seal the oath, pressing softly over and around the wound, scorching away the remnants of your stalker's claim: purifying it.

And you sob harder.

All the hurt and helplessness, all the fright and feelings of despair, all the stress and anxiety - vanish. Gone, just like that. Because Zoro is safety, Zoro is protection. And you know nothing will harm you as long as you're in his arms.

“You're safe.” Zoro repeats over and over again, and with each echo of his words, his anger melts further. His hand tangles with your hair, and he kisses your neck, your cheek, the corner of your eyes. He's claiming your tears.

He’s healing you.

-*-

In the aftermath, when you’re both lying in bed, you sense Zoro wants to know more, but are you willing to share?

“Was it at the club?” He finally asks and the words are heavy, like they’ve lingered on his tongue for a while, marinating before he lets them spill out. You don’t have to ask what ‘it’ is, you know.

“Yes.” A sigh parts your lips as you know this will only feed Zoro’s anger. “He trapped me against the bar and clutched my wrist.” You don’t tell Zoro all the things the stalker said to you, you can show him that mercy. “Then he marked me… as his.”

Zoro’s rage is now controlled. Subdued under layers of care and worry for you. But you know this fury is a monster on its own - a demon - and when Zoro finally unleashes it, he will bring forth hell.

“Tell me everything.” Zoro demands.

And you do.

Like you should’ve done weeks ago.

-*-

The night is still dark and eerie, it must be around four in the morning, but it’s not daunting or scary. Still, you can’t sleep.

Zoro dozed off a while ago, though his arms around you still hold the same strength, the same barrier of protection he created just for you. But you can’t stop thinking about his safety.

He assured you that you were now safe. He promised. But it was never your safety you were worried about. It was always about keeping Zoro safe.

With a heavy sigh, you disentangle from his embrace and step out of the bedroom on light steps. Your intention is only to go to the bathroom. You and Zoro talked, and he said you should just chuck the phone away, not even pick it up anymore, and you intended to follow through.

But as soon as you step into the hallway, the phone buzzes against the glass of the coffee table.

And you falter.

The buzz is relentless, taunting you, frightening you again. You shouldn’t look, you know that - hell, you promised that.

Still…

Your footsteps take you towards the living room, and you kneel on the floor, eyes darting to the sides because you’re already feeling that familiar prickling on the back of your neck - the one that tells you you’re being watched.

And then you flip the screen over.

Unknown: Fucking whore! How could you? Unknown: You’re MINE! Unknown: You slut! Moaning for him like a dog in heat? I’ll teach you manners! Unknown: … I’m sorry. I overreacted. It’s not your fault, Kitten. It’s all the cop’s fault. Unknown: He tainted you, he DARED touch what’s mine. Unknown: It’s not your fault. You just need to learn. But I’m patient. I’ll teach you. Unknown: We still have to get rid of him, though, don’t we? Unknown: He can’t get away with making you moan like you’re a common wench. Unknown: I have half a mind to climb up his bedroom window and gut him like the fucking pig he is! Unknown: Would you want that, Kitten? To see his blood dripping from his open belly? His guts spread out on the floor as he’s still alive and breathing and FEELING all of the pain?

You drop the phone on the carpet with a soft thud, your eyes already brimming with unshed tears. This was what you feared. You shouldn’t have come to Zoro. You shouldn’t have…

The nightmare didn’t stop, it just paused and restarted even worse than before.

The phone buzzes again and you stare down, your hands still trembling as you try to fight the feeling of dread that has settled in your chest.

Unknown: I’m usually a patient man, Kitten, but I’ve run out of patience with the cop. Unknown: It ends now.

What does he mean? You barely have time to conjure up all the grisly thoughts to the forefront of your mind before you see it: a little red laser dot, shining against your hand. You turn your palm upwards, and the laser lingers until your mind associates it with danger: a gun.

You gasp and snap your head forward towards the window where the dot is coming from. And then it moves. Your eyes follow it, dread knotting your stomach and making you nauseous - you don’t need to follow it, you know where it’s going.

Zoro.

With trembling fingers, you clutch the phone, and for the first time since you’ve realised he was a stalker, you answer his text.

You: No, please, no! Stop! You: Don’t hurt him! I’ll do anything!

You angle your body towards the bedroom, and you see the dot stop, then disappear. Did it work?

Your chest thumps loudly against your ribcage, and when the phone buzzes again, you’re eager to read the answer.

Unknown: Anything, Kitten? Unknown: You’ve just saved the cop’s life. Unknown: Meet me at our home. You’re ready.

Fear and apprehension hold you ransom for a few moments before you compose yourself. There’s no room to back away now, no room to feel regret. You saved Zoro’s life. You’re willing to trade yours for his without a second thought.

So you collect your clothes - doning Zoro’s sweater too because you can’t stop shivering, even though you know it’s not the cold that’s causing it - and scribble a small note for Zoro: I’ll handle this.

Even though you know you won’t handle anything. Maybe it keeps him home?

You suck on your lower lip to stop a sob or a desperate chuckle, you’re not quite sure which - Zoro would go to the ends of earth to keep you safe. You know that. That note is trash.

Still, you turn to leave, but before you exit, you reach into Zoro’s holster and grab his gun.

You won’t go unprepared. You’re willing to fight.

-*-

Returning home has never felt so terrifying. You took Zoro’s car, both because yours was still at the police station - though it’s not that far from Zoro’s - and also because it will slow him down if he wakes up and decides to look for you.

The porch light is on - you didn’t leave it like that - and the front door is open - you closed it, even though you didn’t lock it.

Before leaving the car, you place the gun inside the sweater pocket and mumble a prayer to whichever deity might be listening.

This ends tonight. It has to. One way or the other, you can’t live like this anymore.

Each step out of the car and closer to your home sounds like the drums of doom. Each light tap of your sneakers is like a nail being hammered on your coffin. Your confidence oozes out of your body as if it were perspiration and gets lost somewhere on the steps of your porch.

You reach the open door feeling bare.

He took everything from you, and he’s about to claim all of it as his own.

“Finally, Kitten. Come to me.”

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

He turns on the lights inside the house and you gasp, your eyes widening as recognition strikes. “You? Why?”

“Because I love you, Kitten. And you will, too. Soon. Soon.”

The sound of the door closing behind you seals your fate. It’s the lid on the coffin, and it’s suffocating. There’s no air, there’s no light, there’s no room.

Only despair.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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#one piece #the meet cute #reader x roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x you #you x zoro #zoro x reader #reader x zoro #reader insert #modern day au

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leviathansmistress · 1 day ago

Text

Caving Heart

Pairings: Divorced Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/warnings: Allusions to sex, we rock with Wanda because Wanda rocks with us, angst then fluff :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which you're starting to let her in, once again...

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

This is Natasha looking at you, scrambling as you put your clothes on. You didn't know how it happened, she was just putting the kids to sleep and the next thing you know is she is putting you to bed as well.

"This is just one time, this will never happen again." You said calmly. Natasha could only bite her lip, she didn't say anything but the words cut deep in her chest.

For the first time after 3 years of being a fucking celibate—you had sex. A life changing, toe curling, breathtaking orgasm from the same person who gave you your first orgasm. Not that you literally practiced celibacy because you still had the vibrators and toys your wife actually bought when you were still together and not that you don't want to have sex but…you just can't—you can't with someone else.

Natasha was the first to worship your body, the one who loves tracing and kissing the stretch marks that etched in your thighs. She admired every part of you and with all honesty? You can't see anyone leveling how your ex-wife looked at you.

You were standing, fixing your clothes, ready to kick your ex-wife out of the house since it's already late at night. But then, you felt a strong arms wrapping your waist. "Baby, please…" She begged.

"Natasha, stop." You tried to remove her locked arms on your stomach but her grip was strong.

"Baby please, I'm sorry." She kissed your shoulders over and over. "Please forgive me, I want you back. I want you back Y/N. I need you back." She cried. "I need you baby please. I'm sorry. I love you so much, please."

You started crying as well but you held your stance, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but whenever you try to move away Natasha makes sure to not let you go, not this time—not anymore.

"Natasha, stop." You hissed, wiping the tears from your face. "Jesus, you'll wake the kids up." But she did not say anything despite your angry tone, you can only hear her cry and sob behind you, her forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder.

And it went on the rest of the night. Both of you standing and crying in each other's embraces.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your friend, Wanda, the godmother of your children, decided to visit you at your home, bringing you some tea and a real tea.

"I told you Mrs. Hart's husband was cheating with the chief." She said with a wide eye, pouring you some tea she made.

"Well, that one is actually not included on my bingo card this year…" you chuckled lightly. Then, there was a knock that interrupted your tea with your friend and your first born immediately ran to get it.

"Mom!" She squeaked, Natasha easily brought her up using just her right arm. You watched as she peppered her kisses before putting your daughter down. Meanwhile, your friend, Wanda, switched her shocked eyes between you and Natasha. She watched as your ex-wife handed you a huge bouquet of flowers and kissed your temple.

"Ashana's asleep." That was the only thing you said, then Natasha nodded. She gave Wanda a smile before heading upstairs.

When Wanda was sure your ex-wife was already gone upstairs, she switched from being a nosey neighbor to being a detective that needed some answers.

"What exactly was that?" She left her mouth open, you're afraid a fly might come in.

"What?" you giggled playfully.

"That!" She now hissed, pointing at the stairs of your house. "And that too." She pointed to the bouquet of yellow daffodils in your hand.

"Stairs..? And flowers?" you laughed, blushing at the satisfaction you're feeling with your friend's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon don't play stupid. Since uh when." She sassed.

"Since last week."

"Last week and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, this is the first time we saw each other again so how am I supposed to tell you?" You defended, transferring the flowers from the vase.

"Girl, don't you have a phone?" She barked, standing and she motioned towards you. "Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils…" she said in a sing-song snapping her body to lean on the counter where you have been fixing the flowers, you cannot help but laugh at her silly movements. "Did you know that daffodils mean a new beginning? A start of something fresh—whether it's a new relationship or an existing one. So what's the deal huh? You two?" she asked, scrunching her nose. You hide yourself behind the bouquet of the flowers but your friend snatched it away from you.

"You're such a bitch, you're blushing!" She whacked the bouquet playfully on your face and you immediately dodged it.

"Noooo!" You whined, retrieving the flower back.

"Look who's in love? Hm?"

"Who?" you asked innocently, focusing on putting the daffodils on the vase.

"This bitch right here." She whispered before attacking your sides with her fingers.

"Wanda! If Shane heard you cursing again, I swear…" you warned, swatting her hands away.

She made an offensive look, palming her chest, "Hey, don't bring the kids in here. I have been nothing but a good influence auntie."

"Shane said you called someone a bitch in the market."

"Because she cut through our line." Wanda defended. "Damn, I can't believe my homegirl will snitch me. But anyway, I need to go now. I will pick my twinsies to school." She rushed to hug you, then she proceeded to get her keys and purse.

"Thank you, Wands." You walked her to the door but then, she stopped, right at the doorway and turned to look at you.

"Daffodils means a new beginning…and a new life." She started. You tilt your head before breaking into a laughter, forcing her to turn around.

"Hey, hey wai—aw!" She grabbed your hands away from her shoulder and held it firmly in front of her. "I just wanna say, I am ready for another goddaughter."

"Okay. No." She let go of your hand and immediately ran away from the porch of your house.

"You're not sure about that my friend!"

"I hate you!" you shout.

"I love you too, sis!"

You waved as your friend finally drove away from your house. When you got inside, you saw Natasha coming down the stairs. "Where's Shane?" you asked her.

"Asleep." She trailed behind you, as you went to the dining room.

Your phone vibrated behind your ass but you ignored it. "Did you eat?" you looked at her, already grabbing a plate for her. You knew Natasha so well, she doesn't eat lunch and if she does, it's always late. She hugged you from behind, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

"Nope." She said, while her face was buried on your shoulders. You hummed already expecting that answer from her.

"I'll reheat the lunch." You touched the side of her head. The phone vibrated again, but you chose to check it later.

"I was thinking of eating something else." She mumbled.

"Oh…do you wanna order?" You asked, feeling offended she doesn't want to eat the food you cooked for lunch and Natasha immediately sensed it.

"Nope, food's here." She said lazily, wrapping you tightly in her embrace.

Finally understanding what she meant, you slapped the side of her thigh so hard that she let out a cry.

"I was just joking." She cried as she stepped back, rubbing her thigh. Well, she actually was not joking.

Then, your phone buzzed just right behind your ass for the third time now. You took the device from your pocket and read the message that was from your friend.

Are you having sex with your ex-wife right now?

Reply 'ugh' if you are doing some baby making activities with your ex-wife.

Okay, I'll take the no replies as a sign that I am having another goddaughter or godson soon. I love being a fairy godmother!

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

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runninriot · 3 days ago

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Another Love

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event It's Complicated

wc: 1.966 | rated: M | tags: past friends with benefits Eddie/Jeff, newly established Steddie, unrequited love, complicated feelings, mild hurt/comfort, friendship | also on ao3

“Guys, this is Steve. Steve, these are the guys. My best friends, who will not embarrass me today. Right?”

Eddie laughs, tries not to let his nerves show by making a silly grimace in the direction of Gareth, who lovingly scoffs and rolls his eyes, says ‘You don’t need us for that, you’re pretty good at embarrassing yourself‘, just to be a little shit. And maybe that’s good, because it means they’re not pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no need to mask who they are in front of Steve, Eddie knows that.

He knows that, once they’ve warmed up to each other, they’ll get along just fine. But still, he can’t shake the funny feeling in his gut.

This is a big deal for him, finally introducing his boyfriend to the people who, apart from Wayne, mean most to him in this world. He wants, no, needs them to accept this new person in his life, because there is one thing he’s absolutely certain of – Steve is here to stay.

Gareth and Doug, being the lifesavers they are, immediately start wrapping Steve up in a conversation and it helps ease Eddie’s nerves a bit. But out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the tension in Jeff’s shoulders. Can sense his resentment of the situation even if Jeff is obviously trying his best not to show it.

He stands off to the side, pretending to tune his guitar which he’s definitely not. Eddie knows he’s already done that before even coming to the venue. Out of all of them, Jeff’s always been the closest to a professional.

It’s something Eddie admires, one of those things he loves about him.

Jeff and Eddie go way back, met long before Gareth and Doug entered the picture. They’ve been friends forever, through thick and thin, always together against the rest of the world.

He’d never admit it out loud but Jeff’s opinion matters most. And that’s not only because he’s his best best friend. It’s also because he doesn’t know what he’d do if Jeff didn’t give him his blessing. There’s so much at stake here, so much to possibly end in ruins. This is so much more complicated than just wanting his friend's approval - there's more to consider. More to fight for. So that's what Eddie is willing to do.

“Hey, man,” Eddie claps Jeff on the back trying to act casual, ignoring the twisted knots in his stomach. “Can we talk?”

“If it’s about your boyfriend, then no.”

Jeff takes a big swig from his beer, the look in his eyes unusually cold and distant.

“Come on, man. I thought we agreed that-”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. Look, Eddie. I’m happy for you, I really am. But you cannot expect me to put on a brave face and pretend that this doesn’t fuck me up.”

His words slice through Eddie like a knife, sharp and quick, no mercy on his heart.

Eddie probably deserves it for thinking he could ignore the giant ass elephant in the room and simply wait it out. Wait for the problem to solve itself, for everything to go back to normal, back to easy. Because truth is, there is nothing easy about this.

Eddie knew from the start that this would be complicated, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t. He knew and yet, stupid as he is, he still hoped they could just... move on. Not forget but maybe lock up the memories of a different time and go back to how things were before. When they were just friends, no feelings involved. At least not those kind of feelings.

“I’m sorry, Jeff,” he says, head tilted down to avoid his friend’s piercing gaze, “I know it’s-“

It’s what? Hard? Unfair? Well, yeah, obviously. At least from Jeff’s point of view. But what is Eddie supposed to do? He didn’t choose to fall in love with someone else, it just happened. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have feelings for Jeff, only they’re different now. Not that he ever-

It’s a cruel thought, even though it’s true. They both know it because Eddie never pretended to be in love when he wasn’t. Was he attracted to Jeff? Oh, absolutely. Otherwise they wouldn’t have ended up in bed together. More than once. And it wasn't just the prospect of easy sex that had Eddie coming back for more - it was the thought of falling asleep in Jeff's arms. To be held by someone who makes you feel safe and cared for. He loved the kisses and giggles and how okay it was to be vulnerable and open because there's nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide because Jeff already knows everything about him.

The problem is, while it had all started out as casual fun between mates, something changed over time. Something Eddie noticed too late or he would’ve ended it sooner. Jeff never told him about his feelings, so that’s on him, but it is just as much Eddie’s fault because- he should’ve known anyway. Should’ve noticed the shift. But he hadn’t. Or maybe he simply refused to acknowledge it. Selfishly ignored it until he couldn’t anymore.

When he met Steve, he instantly knew he needed to put his cards on the table and come clean about what this would mean for him and Jeff. Told him about this guy he likes – ‘Don’t know if it’s mutual but I’d like to give it a shot, see where it’s going. Maybe it’s nothing but maybe- I think he could be the one.’

And at first, Jeff seemed to be fine with that. Said he understood that they couldn’t hook up anymore. Said he’d miss the fucking but ‘Eh, whatever.’

Only it wasn’t whatever.

But Eddie was so lost in his own head, so caught up on Steve, Steve, Steve that he didn’t see what it was doing to Jeff. Didn’t notice him pulling away more and more until Gareth mentioned it. Asked if something had happened between the two because they were acting weird.

So, when he finally confronted Jeff, things seemed... okay. Better. At least that’s what he thought when Jeff told him he’d get over it, that he just needed some time to adjust. Promised Eddie that nothing had changed when it came to their friendship but right now, Eddie isn’t so sure about that anymore.

And it kills him.

Makes him lie awake at night because he can’t stop thinking about all the worst possible outcomes. What if this breaks up the band? What if Eddie loses his best friend?

“I don’t want to lose you, Jeff.”

You’re up in five, someone calls from the side of the stage and Eddie knows this is the worst possible timing for a heart-to-heart. They should be getting ready, he should be talking to his boyfriend who he abandoned and left with people he doesn’t really know, in a place he’s never been to before. But he can’t step away, can’t leave it like that, not when Jeff still hasn’t said anything.

“I need you. You’re my best friend and I- I love you.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, to use this word, this feeling that is the cause for this mess and the reason for Jeff’s pain. But it’s the right word nonetheless, because it’s the truth. Eddie loves him. Maybe not like he loves Steve but different from the way he loves Gareth and Doug. This love goes deeper than friendship, soul-deep.

“I love you. You’re important to me and I know- I know you're hurt and I am sorry but I can’t change that my heart belongs to Steve.”

Eddie can’t stop, knows he should because right now, he’s only talking himself deeper into the hole he dug for himself. But he refuses to lie, refuses to try to appease Jeff with false hope – he needs to know where they stand. And if that means Jeff will tell him to fuck off, if that will be the end of their friendship, then-

“I hate you.”

Eddie’s heart stops at Jeff's words, eyes filling with tears as he braces himself for the biggest regret he'll ever have in his life.

“I hate you so much for even thinking you could ever lose me!”

They’ve got eyes on them now, Eddie can feel it, but he doesn’t care. Can’t, not when Jeff moves closer, taking one of Eddie’s hands to place it on his chest, right above his heart.

“It hurts. It fucking hurts. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be friends anymore.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say, just sniffs and blinks away the tears blurring his vision.

“It’ll take some time for me to... get over this. But you and me, we’re bound for life, man. So don’t you ever think you’re getting rid of me. You hear me, asshole?”

Jeff smiles at him and even though there’s still sadness in his eyes, Eddie can feel that he means it.

“Uh... sorry to interrupt but, um, they said you’re up next so I-“

When Eddie turns to the voice coming from behind, he finds Steve standing there, hands in his pocket, nervously looking to the side.

“I’ll be down there somewhere. Have- have fun.”

Steve’s about to turn around, ready to step away but Eddie can't let him go like that, so he stops him.

“Baby, wait!”

He looks back at Jeff, hoping, praying to find what he’s searching for in the other man’s eyes.

“Go on, your boyfriend looks like he’s waiting for a kiss. Would be rude to leave him hanging.”

“Are you gonna be mad at me if I do?” Eddie’s not asking for permission to kiss his boyfriend, not really. But he’s willing to tone it down around Jeff if that’s what it takes.

Jeff scoffs, lets go of Eddie’s hand and takes a step back.

“So mad. But I’ll get to have you all to myself for the next 40 minutes so I guess it’s fine,” he jokes and it feels like a peace offering. Like maybe it’s the first step to better, before hopefully they can go back to how things were when everything was good, not complicated.

“I love you,” Eddie says again just because.

“Love you too, man. Now go take care of your man and then let’s get this fucking show started.”

Eddie nods, taking another moment to look at his best friend before walking over to Steve.

“Everything good with you and Jeff?” Steve asks quietly as Eddie wraps his arms around his middle to pull him close.

“I think it will be, yeah.”

Eddie's glad he never made a secret out of his past with Jeff, couldn’t bear withholding something so crucial from Steve. He needed him to know that no matter what, Jeff will always play an important role in his life. That if Steve wanted to be with him, he’d have to accept that there will always be a place in his heart that’s occupied by someone else.

Steve throws a look over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles to himself before leaning in to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Is that all?” Eddie asks when his boyfriend pulls away, leaving him longing for more.

“For now,” Steve confirms with a wink, “Your friends are waiting.”

With that, he wanders off into the crowd and Eddie, for the first time in weeks, feels a weight lift off his shoulders and heart.

Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated.

Maybe it just needs time and trust and mutual understanding.

He’s willing to try, willing to do everything to make this work

Because what he’s definitely not willing to do, is to give up one love for another.

#corrodedcoffinfest #pop up events #it's complicated #eddie munson #jeff stranger things #steve harrington

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rvmanoffbarnes · 1 day ago

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I love you, I'm sorry || Bucky Barnes x reader! au)

Summary: James loved his wife, his son, and the life he had. However, lately he begins to remember his days as a sought-after bachelor in the past and all the opportunities and experiences he wasted.

One night, a magical being appears to him, who offers him to fulfill a wish, which will change his life completely.

Author's note: So i had this idea for a long time ago and i thought it'll be fun to see where this is going. This is some kind of au, where reader and Bucky are married. The magic being is Doctor Strange.

P.S: I love Bucky, and i know he will never do this 💌

《tags: angst, Bucky being a jerk, fluff, married life, arguments, curse words, a character that decide to step in 👀》

Bucky was tired.

He didn't know if he was tired of the long work day he had in the office, or if he was tired of returning to the routine. Sometimes he began to think what would happen to his life if he had made different decisions.

Don't get him wrong, he was sure of what he had chosen: he loved his son Theo, the sweet 5-year-old who looked up to him with a twinkle in his eye every time they spent time together. Bucky thought it was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. On the other hand, the job he had was good, considering that he must maintain a house, a family, pay the bills, put food on the table everyday and treat himself, his son and especially to his wife.

His dear wife Y/N, who had always been there for him. Who he loved with all his might. He can still remember the first time he met her. Well, the first time he actually saw her. Bucky used to be a heartthrob even back in the days when he went to college. He had a certain reputation with the ladies and never committed himself to a relationship; the black haired man wanted to enjoy his single days as much as he could. That's what he thought until he met Y/N, the sweet girl with glasses who helped him with exams and congratulated him every time he got an A. She had bewitched him from head to toe with her noble heart and sweet aura.

He had it all.

But he also had everything in the past.

A life without worries or bills to pay, girls who fought for his attention or to sit next to him in classes, a group of friends whom he still saw, but without seeing much because of their tight schedules. And well, he didn't want to sound like an idiot, but he didn't have anyone to send him to wash the dishes or change diapers. Plus, he always had someone to have a good time with, if he needed to... de-stress.

It wasn't that with Y/N he didn't want any of that now. But he felt like the flame had gone out since she spent most of her time taking care of Theo, the house and resting from expecting her second child on the way.

Shaking off those thoughts of his head, James takes the keys from his pocket and begins to open the door to be greeted by the excited screams of his son, Theo.

"Daddy! You're finally here." Theo throws himself at him and Bucky reciprocates his hug.

"Hello champion" Bucky ruffles his hair and looks into the boy's blue eyes, who look at him adoringly "You didn't cause your mother any problems, did you?"

The little boy shakes his head.

"I helped her clean up the mess after I drew something for you," he mentions.

Bucky raises an eyebrow and looks at him softly.

"Yeah? I want to see it" Bucky says and the boy runs off to look for the draw.

Bucky sighs and puts his coat and briefcase aside to loosen his tie. All he wanted to do was finish the paperwork he needed by tomorrow without fail, take a shower, and sleep.

"Doll, where are you?" Bucky asks, running his hand over his face in frustration.

"In the kitchen!"

Bucky walks to the room and watches as his wife stirs something in the pot. The aroma of food invades the man's nostrils and his stomach growls with hunger. Y/N puts the spoon aside and hugs him lovingly, making sure her bump doesn't crush against the man's body.

“I missed you,” Y/N murmurs against his lips. Bucky accepts it and hugs her.

"Mhm. I'm really tired," he says barely. Y/N frowns and pouts.

"Long day at work?" He nods.

"And I still have to finish the paperwork," he mentions, rolling his eyes. Suddenly, a crazy idea - which he's sure young Bucky would like - occurs to him, he raises an eyebrow and lowers his hands to his wife's butt. "I was thinking that as long as I do the paperwork, and Theo falls asleep... I don't know, we could have fun in the office room."

Bucky starts kissing her neck, to which Y/N giggles. She sighs and moves away from him a little.

"I have to finish doing the laundry and help Theo with his homework," she excuses herself. Bucky grimaces and can't hide the discontent on his face "But maybe later we can..."

"No, it's okay," Bucky says sharply. "I'd better take my plate to the office and eat there."

"Honey, I..."

“It’s okay, Y/N.” And with that, he grabs his plate of food and takes it to his office to lock himself in and not go out again.

"Theo!" Bucky exclaims.

His temperament overwhelms him, especially when he sees the drawing that his son had given him for him to appreciate. He had appreciated the gesture, since Bucky loved when his son drew him, but the man hadn't liked it at all when Theo decided to paint on the reports he had to correct for tomorrow.

Bucky enters the boy's room and he is surprised to see his father angry approaching him. He had never raised his voice at the boy like that, not even when he got into trouble. Y/N follows him when she hears the commotion from the bathroom.

"What happened?" the woman asks calmly. Bucky shows his sheet to the boy.

"Why did you draw on my work report papers? Why did you come into my office, Theo?" Bucky asks, about to lose his cool.

Theo purses his lips and his eyes fill with tears.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to come into my workspace without permission? Damn it!" Bucky screams and the little boy runs into his mother's arms.

"Bucky, this can be fixed, but please don't be so hard on him," Y/N asks, holding the child's head in her belly, in a motherly way.

Bucky shakes his head, laughing unamusedly.

"I have to hand these papers in tomorrow, Y/N! I'm going to have to stay late looking over them," Bucky says angrily. "Theo doesn't have to do this thing where he comes into the office and draws on my papers."

Theo starts to sob.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he says, choking back a cry.

But when James sees this, the man lets out a sigh through his nose and closes his eyes, trying to calm down. The black-haired man crouches down to the child's height and opens his arms. Theo hesitantly approaches him and lets his father's arms wrap around him.

"Oh, champion..." Bucky whispers "I'm sorry"

Y/N watches the scene. She knows his husband is under a lot of stress.

"Do you promise me you won't do it again?" Bucky says looking at the boy, who nods his head and sniffles. The man wipes his tears and smiles slightly. "Good boy. Sorry for yelling at you."

Bucky starts tickling him and the boy laughs in his arms. Y/N laughs when she sees the scene and touches her belly.

“Theo, you have to finish your homework and brush your teeth before going to sleep,” Y/N reminds him.

Theo nods and proceeds to look for his notebooks so his mother can help him. Bucky stands up and looks at his wife with a tired face.

"I have to finish this," he says and she leaves him, caressing his cheek before they both go to do their chores separately.

Bucky can't help but think about how tired he is as he goes to his workspace and locks himself in until he finishes the paperwork.

What would his young self be doing if he hadn't had children?

If he hadn't had Theo and his second baby on the way?

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom in the room he shares with his wife, he drags his feet across the soft carpeted floor and falls onto the bed, while his wife applies cream to his belly, which has grown quite quickly, indicating that there are a few weeks left to see their son be born.

The man just wants to sleep, because he must get up early. He turns off the light on his bedside table and lets his head fall back onto the pillows. He hears a playful giggle from his wife and notices how she turns off the light and approaches him, to begin kissing his neck and caressing his chest with her hand.

"Hi" she whispers.

She continues kissing his neck and Bucky lets her for a moment, even when he feels his wife's hand go down to his boxers. But he doesn't feel like continuing this, he doesn't know why. Maybe it's tiredness or... he no longer feels that way for the woman who caresses his manhood.

"I don't have the energy to continue, doll," he whispers, pushing her away from him and turning his back on her.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." she says, feeling embarrassed.

She raises the sheets until they cover her chest and looks at the ceiling. The truth is that she had also realized that something was distant between them, ever since she gave him the news that they were expecting another child together.

It's like Bucky doesn't see her with the same adoration as before and that makes her feel insecure. Especially when she didn't feel pretty or sexy with the pregnancy.

She closes her eyes, preventing another tear from falling, falling asleep.

Bucky can't.

He keeps thinking about what his life would be like if he hadn't married Y/N.

He loved her, yes. But he was bored of playing the role of the worried, caring, gentle and loving husband. He needed space.

He needed air, so he gets out of bed and watches the figure of the woman sleeping with one hand on her belly. Bucky leaves the room and goes downstairs to grab a beer from the refrigerator and go out to the backyard and sit on the bench to watch the starry night.

"Fuck" he mumbles.

He can't admit it.

No.

But....

"I wish I could go back to my past life" he wishes and takes a sip of his beer.

"Are you sure it's what your heart truly desires?" A voice surprises him.

"Fuck! Shit!" Bucky curses.

He stands up from his spot and notices a man floating in front of him and points the bottle at him, ready to defend himself.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?" James looks around and his eyes travel to the window of his room, where Y/N sleeps. "What did they do to my wife? My son?"

The man stops floating to walk on the grass in the yard. Bucky backs away on instinct and continues raising his bottle.

"James Buchanan Barnes" he says his full name, and danger scares him.

"How do you know my name?" He asks without believing it.

"My name is Stephen Strange, and I came here to grant you a wish" Bucky shakes his head, not believing it.

"Pff, sure. And I can fly" he says and raises the bottle, but Strange snaps his fingers and it disappears "What the hell...?"

"Now do you believe me?" Bucky swallows and thinks he's dreaming.

"Who the hell are you?"

"The man who can grant you your wish"

After explaining where it came from and why he was in front of him offering to grant him the wish, Bucky let out a heavy sigh and crossed his arms.

"So... you're saying that you can take me to another reality where I start my life again?" Strange nods calmly. Bucky grimaces. "What will happen to my life here? My job? My kids and my wife?"

Stephen replies: "If I take you to another reality, which in this case would be your past self, your life here will take a different direction. What you do there can completely change what happens here," he explains and moves his fingers to make a golden circle appear with scenes from Bucky's past appearing. The black-haired man approaches as if he were under a spell and remembers some things. "If you decide to go back and be in that reality, nothing you had here would be the same again."

Bucky smiles when he catches a moment where he was the most popular guy in college. Or when he dated Natasha, the most gorgeous woman in the school.

Bucky smiles falters when he sees Y/N studying with him for the exams. And when he carried his son Theo in his arms for the first time.

"Are you sure you want to leave everything you built here to go back to being the famous heartthrob Bucky Barnes?" Strange asks. Bucky swallows and finds himself in a dilemma with himself. On the one hand, he is bored with this domestic and routine life, he misses his life without ties and when he felt like he had everything in the palm of his hand. However, he loves his son Theo, his second child who is on the way and, above all, Y/N.

The woman he married. The woman he loved.

But right now, that didn't seem to care.

But Bucky wanted to have it all and more.

"Strange.... I want to go back" he decides after a moment.

"There will be no turning back," the magician warns him. "With a snap of my fingers, you will wake up in another reality and your life will be different."

And without hesitation, he didn't let himself be clouded by anything other than his desire to have it all again.

"I'm sure"

And Strange snapped his fingers, feeling disappointed once again in people's desire.

Bucky was having a blast.

So far he attended all the parties, went out more with his friends and could go on dates with any girl he wanted. He was taking advantage of that and more.

It was a starry and cool night and with his group they decided to go for some burgers where they always went to eat. Bucky's arm was around the shoulder of his former girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff. The hottest and most outgoing girl he had ever met.

"Today Bucky must buy the burgers" Sam says pointing his finger at him.

Bucky snorts and rolls his eyes in amusement, ignoring the strange emptiness he feels in his chest.

"I'll do it as long as someone deigns to come take our order," says the blue-eyed one, looking around in search of a waitress.

Everything stops in the moment for Bucky.

A couple of tables away was Y/N chatting animatedly with Yelena, Ava and John Walker. He knew John because the blonde was with him in his class. He was a jerk, but somehow he was in Y/N's group since he was dating Ava.

Y/N looks beautiful with her glasses.

When he had married her, he may have commented how funny she looked in them, and how the next day she had gone to the ophthalmologist to see if she could wear contact lenses. An idiotic comment on his part.

"Good evening, what are you going to order?" asks a deep voice coming to their table.

Bucky turns around and sees a boy with slightly long brown hair, below his ears. He remembers it because he was in Y/N's class. His name was Robert Reynolds.

The brunette had always tried to woo Y/N, even when she started dating Bucky. Even at their wedding, Bob was there with a hopeful and hurt look as he saw the girl he wanted marrying Bucky. The latter could only give him a victorious look when he kissed the girl to close their engagement.

"James...." the redhead shakes his arm. He reacts and turns to look at the boy who is looking at him expectantly. "What do you want to order?"

Bucky clears his throat.

"I want a burger and a soda," he asks, not really wanting to eat now. Bob notes it and gives them a flat smile.

"Coming right up, excuse me" he leaves and takes the menus from their hands.

Bucky follows him with his eyes to see how he leaves the menus on the table.

"Are you alright, Buck?" Steve asks him.

Bucky nods nonchalantly.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's good"

After a few minutes, while Bucky looked out of the corner of his eye at the table where his wife was, Bob arrives with everyone's orders.

"Thank you," thanks Steve.

"Sure. Enjoy"

Bob leaves again and the black-haired man notices how he talks to the man at the cash register, taking off his apron, and then goes to Y/N's table. She smiles shyly at him and he sits next to her, putting his arm behind her shoulder. Bucky watches this scene in front of him with jealousy.

She was his wife. His Y/N.

"Bucky, are you sure you're okay? You seem angry" Natasha points out, stroking his hand. But he feels a different sensation, comparing it to when Y/N used to do it.

Bucky nods curtly.

"Why do you keep asking me if I'm okay?" He takes a French fry and bites into it. "I'm clearly okay!"

Bucky turns to look at the table and sees how the boys from the other table start walking towards the exit. He notices how Bob leaves his hand on Y/N's lower back and gets up from the table.

"Hey!" They turn to see him. He is frozen in place as he reacts without thinking. Y/N frowns holding Bob's hand.

"Um, the burger was good" he says in an attempt to save himself "Thank you".

John, Yelena and Ava laugh watching the reaction he had. Bob nods his head, looking at him strangely.

"You're welcome?"

Bucky stands for a few seconds before Natasha tugs at his jacket, asking him to sit down. The black-haired man watches as the other group leaves the restaurant, ignoring the rest's eyes on him.

"What is wrong with you?" The redhead asks him.

"Buck, you're acting strange" Sam says.

That's it. Strange.

Stephen could help him.

Bucky gets up again and hurries to chase the group.

"Sorry, i don't feel so good"

Bucky rushes out hearing the screams of his friends behind him, but he doesn't care.

He is a few meters away from Y/N who hugs Yelena, Ava and John goodbye. Those three go their separate ways, while Y/N returns to Bob's arms, who takes her cheeks and kisses her sweetly. Y/N hugs him around the waist and Bob imprisons her against him with his arms.

Bucky feels something in his chest and thinks about the wrong decision he made. He would have to be the one to kiss her. She married him. With Bucky she had a family. With her he had everything.

"Strange. Damn Strange, I need you to help me" he whispers.

"I told you the consequences and you still accepted," Strange says, seriously. "Just like everyone else."

Bucky sighs angrily and waves his hands in exasperation. "Yes, i know. But I regret this. I want to go back to my stupid job, see my son Theo again and meet my son who is on the way. And Y/N...." he whispers hurt "My Y/N"

Stephen shakes his head in dissaproval.

"Humans are all the same. They have everything in their hands and it's still not enough," he reflects. Bucky feels the desperation for his body "I can take you back, but not to go back. But so that you can see and learn from your own mistake"

Bucky nods desperate.

Strange snapped his fingers, and the go back to where it all started.

His house.

It's the same as when he left.

Only the yard is with more flowers and toys scattered around. Bucky felt the urge to pick everything up and wondered since when they had so many flowers. Y/N had told him how much she wanted to plant roses for the garden, but Bucky never liked the idea. Now there were flowers.

Bucky walks to the door and Stephen's voice stops him.

"Don't hurry," he says. "No one will be able to see us, so it's better if you come with me."

Bucky follows him and they enter the house, where the aroma of home-cooked food fills his nostrils. His eyes light up as he sees a child painting on the floor. His adorable face rises when he hears the keys to the door.

"Mom, daddy is here!" he exclaims. The next thing he sees surprises Bucky.

"Champion! I missed you so much!" Bob exclaims, receiving the child in his arms.

The black-haired man's face falls as soon as he sees Y/N receive him in her arms and kiss him lovingly. Like she did with him.

"Are you hungry?" she asks.

"I'm starving," he says over his lips. And he plays a little longer without his little son hearing "Maybe later you could give me my favorite dessert."

Y/N laughs sheepishly and punches him in the arm.

"Dad" his son intervenes. Bob ruffles his hair.

“Wait, why isn’t Y/N pregnant here?” Stephen looks down in shame.

"Today they are supposed to do it so that Y/N gets pregnant with a girl."

Bucky chokes a sob. Y/N always wanted two kids: a boy and a girl.

Bucky remembers that he wasn't all that excited to have a second child. He thought it was already a lot of responsibility with Theo, and a second would be chaotic.

But she looked so happy here.

"I guess I'm not coming back here, am I?" Strange nods.

"It was my decision. And I have to face it like a man," Bucky says. He sighs and looks one last time at the scene in front of his eyes. "He won't hurt her like I hurt her, right?"

Strange denies. "It wouldn't cross Bob's mind to change anything about his life with Y/N, here. It's more than enough"

And with that Bucky leaves with Strange feeling like a sword is stabbed into his chest.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fanfic #marvel #bob reynolds x reader #angst #bucky barnes angst

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 day ago

Text

It's a satanist thing, you wouldn't understand

Written for the Kissing Booth bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: First Date

Words: 2,067 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Good babysitter Steve; Good babysitter Eddie; Sexual harassment (mild); Bullying; Implied sexual content; Eddie Munson is a little shit

“Lucas, do you copy? It’s Steve.”

It takes approximately two seconds for Lucas’s voice to crackle back over the walkie, which probably means he had it lying on the nightstand right next to him, waiting for updates.

“I’m here. What’s the status?”

“Well, the good news,” Steve says, keeping his eyes trained on the movie theatre across the street so that he doesn’t have to look at Eddie sulking in the passenger seat, “is that they’ve made it to the theatre, and everything looked perfectly fine. All hands stayed where they’re supposed to be and he even held the door for her.”

“Okay?” Lucas sounds far less elated at that than he hoped he would, but that might be the effects of the flu. “What’s the bad news?”

Steve sighs. “Well, she saw us.”

The static hum of the line is loud in the ensuing silence.

“Oh. How did that go?”

Eddie snatches the walkie from Steve’s hand. “How do you think it went, Sinclair? She told us to, and I quote, get our sorry asses outta there and tell Lucas to stop poking his germ-infested nose into her affairs.”

“Don’t mind him,” Steve says, wrangling the walkie back and leaning out of Eddie’s reach as far as the limited space of the Beemer will allow. “He’s just grouchy because he won’t get to see Tom Cruise mixing cocktails.”

“So you’re out-... sorry, one moment.” Lucas interrupts himself for a speaker-rattling sneeze. “You’re outside now?”

“Yup, in the car. You want us to try and sneak back in or-”

“No, leave it. You know what she’s like. Just … can you stick around, just in case? I don’t have a good feeling about that Todd guy.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “Sure thing, Lucas. You go back to sleep, we got this. Over.”

“We got this?” Eddie repeats as Steve puts the walkie back on the middle console. “What exactly have we got, Stevie? All we’re gonna be having is a stiff neck from sitting in your fucking car and watching the stupid theatre for hours, and all because you can’t tell these kids no for-”

“Oh, as if you could,” Steve says. “Cut Lucas some slack, it’s his baby sister’s first date, and he’s worried.”

Eddie crosses his arms and sulks back into the leather seat.

“Dunno what he’s so worried about. I’ve seen his baby sister fend off two grown demogorgons with a broken chair, you’d think she’d be perfectly capable of handling the pitfalls of teenage dating life, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh yeah?” Steve snarks. “And what would you know of teenage dating life?”

Eddie shrugs, unimpressed, leaning over into Steve’s space with a wide, lecherous grin. One ring-clad hand reaches out over the middle console to brush his thigh.

“Touché, my king. All I’m saying is I can think of more fun things on a Saturday night than- … What?”

Steve, who has bolted upright in his seat and started making frantic shushing motions, points at something outside. “Look!”

Sure enough, the doors of the theatre have swung open to reveal none other than Erica Sinclair. Without sparing as much as a glance at Steve’s car, she stomps over to where her bike is leaning on the corner of the building. Even from the distance, it’s glaringly evident that she’s fuming with rage.

“That isn’t good,” Steve mutters, already pushing open his door. From the corner of his eye, he can see Eddie follow behind him as he hurries across the street. “Erica? What’s wrong?”

“Go away,” she barks, dragging the bike around and out into the street, but Steve positions himself in front of her and Eddie to her side.

“Oh no, young lady,” he rumbles in his best, strict DM voice. “The man asked you a question. What the hell happened?”

“I got thrown out, okay?” she snaps, but she doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes like she normally would. Instead, she seems weirdly interested in the colorful streamers hanging off her handlebars. “No big deal.”

Steve feels his jaw drop. “No big- … Thrown out? How the fuck did you manage that?”

She shrugs petulantly. Steve puts his hands on his hips. She draws a long, exasperated breath, letting the words rush out on the exhale in one long, near incomprehensible string.

“Todd asked if he could kiss me, I said no, he tried to sneak his fingers under my skirt, I said to keep his hands to himself, he said he wouldn’t wanna kiss a satanist freak anyhow, so I decked him. Happy?”

Steve isn’t happy. Steve is very far from happy, in fact. He’s aware that Erica is staring at him, eyes weirdly shiny, and that Eddie has gone very still and pale by her side, but he can’t say anything because his throat is closing up and his vision is slowly filling with dark pinpricks of red. His hand is curling and uncurling by his side, longing for the familiar feel of a bat or ax or anything else to swing.

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, but she’s talking to Eddie now. “You shouldn’t still have to deal with all of that, it’s fucking horrible.”

Eddie smiles, bold and brave and beautiful, lurching forward to pull her into a hug. It ends up a bit awkward since her bike is still wedged between them, but she allows it without so much as a scoff.

“Aw, m’lady,” he coos, but the look he shoots at Steve over the top of her head is sharp as a blade. Steve feels a shiver run down his spine. He knows that look. It means Eddie has a plan, and neither hell and all its devils nor an overprotective boyfriend are gonna keep him from seeing it through. “Ever the valiant one, looking out for little old me and what small sliver of honor I can still call my own. However … it’s your honor that has been insulted here, and that’s the far greater slight.”

She shrugs, pulling out of the hug. “Well yeah, but-”

Eddie holds up a hand.

“Ah-ah-ah! Don't give me buts, I don't like buts.”

She quirks a brow at him. “That's a lie and we both know it. I've seen how you look at Steve's.”

“Hey,” Steve sputters, “I'm right here, you know?”

“Be that as it may,” Eddie concedes. “Methinks we cannot let that vile scoundrel go unpunished. What say you, good lady and fine sir?”

Steve would like to say that a scoundrel sounds like a small woodland animal, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to argue with them when they get like this.

Steve hangs back in a doorway as Eddie asked him to, so he can't be entirely sure if the squeal that reaches his ears when Todd rounds the corner comes from the tires of his bike or from the boy himself. Maybe he wasn’t that far off with small woodland animal after all.

“What do you want?” Todd barks at Erica, once he's over the initial shock. Even in the low light of the alley, Steve can see the bruise under his eye. He has to give it to her, she got him good. Then again, he never expected anything less of her. “I thought I told you to get lost.”

She squares her shoulders and juts out her chin, fearless as always, but before she can reply, Eddie peels himself from the shadows and joins her.

“My, my. You were right, m’lady. He really does show an alarming lack of manners.”

Todd's eyes grow large with shock, but he's quick to slip his cocky facade back on. His knuckles have gone white around the handlebars.

“What is this?” he asks Erica. “You can't take care of your own shit so you go crying to your cult leader to-”

Eddie tuts. “Watch your words. That’s alleged cult leader to you. They were never able to prove me anything.”

“Whatever,” Todd scoffs. It comes out a little wobbly because his voice has gone about half an octave higher. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

He tries to get back up on his bike, but Eddie steps into his way.

“Oh, but we’re not done yet. You still need to apologize to Lady Applejack here for your uncouth advances.”

“Lady Apple-” Todd says. “What the hell?”

Erica shrugs. “It’s a satanist thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Steve can practically see the mental gymnastics Todd’s brain is performing while he tries to decide whether or not she’s serious. Sweat is starting to bead below his hairline and his mouth moves silently.

“I dunno what she told you,” he finally says. “But I didn’t do-”

“No means no, dude,” Eddie rumbles. “And if nobody has taught you basic manners yet, maybe you’ll need to learn the hard way. I’ve cursed off people’s dicks for less, y’know?”

Todd goes almost comically pale.

“You wouldn’t-” he stammers. Steve didn’t think his voice could go any higher, but here they are. “That’s not- … You’re bluffing! You can’t do that!”

Eddie smiles. His teeth are bright in the dark of the alley.

“Maybe I can and maybe I can’t. Would you like to find out?”

Todd gulps. Looks at Erica, then at Eddie, then at Erica again. Eddie makes a show of flicking an invisible speck of dust off his skull ring.

“Okay, jeez, I’m sorry!” Todd blurts. “Will you freaks let me go now?”

“M’lady?” Eddie asks.

Erica ponders this for a moment. “Could’ve been more heartfelt, but I’ll let it slide. I’m feeling generous today.”

Eddie steps out of the way with a dramatic flourish. “You may pass, my man. I'd say my good man, but you'll understand I have my doubts.”

Todd grabs his bike and roughly shoulders past him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “This is such bullshit.”

He's just about to swing himself into the saddle when he sees Steve leaning in the doorway.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “You're that Harrington guy. Your picture’s in the trophy case at school. You were, like, on the swim team and the basketball team. Why are you hanging out with those sickos instead of stopping them?”

Steve catches Eddie’s gaze. Then, casting nervous glances in all directions, he leans forward, cupping a hand to his face to shield his words.

“Dude, I'd love to help you, I really would,” he whispers. “But I gotta do what he says if I want my dick back.”

Todd lets out a rush of air that is somewhere between a flat tyre and the whimper of a frightened animal. A distinct hue of pale green settles over his nose. Then, without so much as a glance back, he jumps on his bike and pedals off into the night. Eddie watches him round the corner, then waits another two or three seconds for good measure before he starts howling with laughter.

“Jesus, look at him run! What a loser!”

Erica huffs and crosses her arms.

“Can’t believe I used to date him,” she jokes, but it comes out rather half-heartedly. She clears her throat, eyes flicking between Eddie and Steve, who has stepped out of his hiding place to join them. “You sure this was a good idea? He might talk …”

“Not if he values his dick, he won’t,” Eddie says, and gives Steve a slow, pointed wink. “Didn’t know there was a secret drama nerd lurking under all that hair, Stevie.”

“Well,” Steve rolls his eyes, even as his face heats up from the praise. “There's a lot of stuff you haven't found out about me yet.”

Eddie's smile grows sharper.

“Hey,” Erica shouts from the exit of the alley and they flinch apart. “Is one of you dorks gonna help me put my bike in the car or am I supposed to do it myself?”

Eddie takes one look at Steve's scowl and snorts. “Guess we're on chauffeur duty again.”

“Guess so,” Steve sighs. “C'mon, let's get going.”

As they make their way to the car, Eddie leans into his space and slips a hand into his back pocket.

“My place after? I think I just heard something about you having to do everything I say?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah. If you'd listened a little better, you'd have heard that I'm also missing a vital part right now, so…”

“Oh, honey,” Eddie winks. “We'll make do. You won't need a dick for what I have in mind, anyway.”

More Steddie Bingo

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingokiss #hype's steddie bingo

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sanguineterrain · 3 days ago

Text

the worst day of february | jason todd

Summary: Cold and defeated on the worst day of February, you stand on your apartment rooftop, contemplating giving up. Then the Red Hood drops in and makes you tea in your apartment.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings/tags: suicidal ideation, disordered eating and sleeping habits, depression, reader doesn't attempt suicide but thinks about it a lot. a sort of hopeful ending. jason being a really really good guy.

please take care of yourselves - don't read this if you think it'll upset you.

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One day in February—it doesn't matter which day; it might be someone else's day too, but it doesn't matter, and it doesn't matter which February either—you realize that you've forgotten how to be happy.

When you think of February, you don't think of much, except that on those big visual calendars of the months that they put up in kindergarten, February is always pink. Pink like an organ. Pink like guts. Pink like love.

But your February—all the Februarys you've had—is blue-gray. It's like someone's cast a moody shadow over your February. It's the director's choice, clearly, to light your February like you're at a wake. It's not your choice. It's never your choice.

Here is the problem. The problem is that you're too scared, but you want the attention of someone who's killed themselves. Shame digs its claws into you at such a perverse thought. But it's true. Even if it's one person who takes a moment to inspect your guts on the sidewalk, or your body in the bathtub, you want them to hold your rigor mortis and say, what a loss. Is there anything I can do?

And then you'd pop up from the bathwater and say, why yes, there is something you can do, would you mind changing the lighting? It's bringing me down.

You're on the roof of your apartment. You don't know why, because as stated, you're too scared. And it's nighttime, and you're a speck of dust, which is comforting at times and haunting at others. Dust on a roof. Easy to be carried off by the wind.

You don't want to die, exactly. You want to rest. No amount of sleep destroys the exhaustion. Instead of marrow in your bones, it's the desire for rest that only comes through death. Unfortunately, despite not wanting to die, death seems to be your only path.

His footsteps are quiet. You don't realize that you're not alone until he's there next to you, hunched over the ledge on his elbows.

You flinch.

"Sorry," Red Hood says, and there's no smoky breath that accompanies his words like they accompany everyone else's. You wonder where the air from his helmet's filter goes.

"It's fine," you say, even though your nervous system is still reeling. It's not fine, because you hate being scared, but it also doesn't matter, so it's fine in that way.

You have a great view from the city up here but appreciating the city is difficult when it's all blue-gray shadows. Your stomach hurts. You've never felt more unbearably yourself in your life.

"Everything okay?" Hood asks.

"Yeah," you say, not bothering to lie. Not bothering to tell the truth either.

"'S cold up here."

"I'm not gonna jump."

"Didn't say you would," Hood says mildly.

"That's why you're here. You think I'll jump, and it's your duty to make sure I don't. But I won't. Too scared. I just wallow instead."

"Wallowing ain't so good either."

"Yeah," you say, throat hurting like you've swallowed a splinter. "Probably not."

An audience would see your funeral-lit life and make the obvious prediction that something bad is about to happen. The director is telling a story, and he's giving hints. You, as the protagonist, are expecting bad things too. Perhaps this is where it starts.

"You live here?" Hood asks.

There should be a curl of fear that strikes you, because Red Hood��terrifying, gangster, born and bred Gotham Red Hood—shouldn't be landing on your rooftop and checking to make sure you aren't gonna spill your guts.

He doesn't seem so terrifying, though. He doesn't seem like a gangster either. And what's wrong with being born and bred Gotham? You like it. Hood is familiar even though you've never met him before. Something about his voice, his stance, the fact that he gives a shit enough to talk to you for a minute. It feels like maybe the universe doesn't want you to kill yourself right then.

"I live here," you say, taking too long to answer.

"Alright," he says. "Lead the way."

You look at him. He's turned around now, facing the roof access door.

"What?"

Hood points a thumb at the door. "Let's go to your place."

"Why?" Why, you ask, instead of the fuck?

"'M thirsty," he says.

Well, if he's here to assassinate you, it won't matter if you bring him to your apartment or not. And now that he's mentioned it, it is cold. Probably because you're up here without a coat. A coat hadn't seemed important when you were in your apartment choking on stale black air.

Maybe you should warn Hood about the stale black air. But you feel like he won't let you return to your apartment if you do.

Hood goes first, leading you back inside. He goes down the stairs slowly, letting you drag and set the pace. It's so stupid. You feel like crying. Why is he going down the stairs with you at your stupid slow pace?

You stop two floors down. This would be another hint to your audience, the fact that you're so close to the roof that you can just climb a couple flights.

You open your apartment. You'd left it unlocked.

"Do you often leave your place unlocked?" Hood asks.

You shrug. "I don't go out enough to get the chance."

Hood doesn't say anything else but he does do the deadbolt when you're inside, as well as the chain lock.

"Shoes off?" he asks. You nod. You both remove your shoes.

Then you stand like you're not in your own apartment. Hood herds you like a sheepdog to your tiny kitchen table. Then he starts opening cabinet doors.

"Got a kettle?" he asks.

You stare at the back of his helmet, your eyebrows knitting. "A kettle? How many Gothamites do you know own kettles?"

"It's the only dignified way to make tea," he says.

Maybe Hood isn't so born and bred Gotham. "Were you raised by British monarchs?"

"Kinda," he says. He evidently gives up on finding a kettle and instead puts water to boil on the stove, even though you have a microwave. Weirdo.

Suddenly, you realize you haven't thought about death for a whole five minutes.

"Got any decaffeinated tea?" Hood asks.

You have a barely opened box of Sleepytime. You point at the top shelf. He hums and retrieves the box, taking out three tea bags to drop into the boiling water.

Hood takes out two mugs. He's surprisingly apt at navigating an unfamiliar kitchen.

He gives you your mug and sits across from you at the table. He's huge at your table, but he gracefully crosses his legs despite the limited space.

"Didja eat?" he asks.

"I had some cereal a few hours ago," you say.

Hood nods. "Fine. But you gotta eat real dinner too."

You don't think it really matters what a corpse-in-training eats, but you nod anyway. Hood's tone invites no deliberation.

"What's your favorite food? Drink your tea."

You scrunch your face and take a hesitant sip. The hot liquid burns your tongue for a moment before you swallow.

"I like pizza," you say. "And burgers. And ramen. But lately, everything tastes like nothing."

You'd tried to find joy in food a few days ago because you couldn't find it anywhere else. You'd torn open a pack of Swedish Fish and shoved the box into your drawer after eating two pieces because it'd tasted like melted plastic to you.

Then you'd bought an expensive brand of chocolate bar, desperate to be happy, desperate to be flooded with dopamine. Nothing. You'd tossed the chocolate, feeling distinctly broken. What monster doesn't find joy in their favorite candy?

You only eat to cure the hunger pains, because you can't take anymore pain. You eat to survive. Not because you want to, but because dying by starvation takes too long.

"That's okay," Hood says. "'S good you're eating."

You scoff. "I don't need consolation."

Hood doesn't give you the satisfaction of an argument. He's going to make you feel alive in a gentler way, even though you don't deserve it. "Drink your tea."

You drink. His mug remains untouched. You feel like you're in a play. This isn't even real tea, it's just colored water. And Hood's stage direction is to not drink his colored water. It's just for show.

You look out the window, expecting to make eye contact with an audience member. You're waiting for the second act. You're waiting for the end.

"I don't want anymore," you say when your mug is half-finished. Trying to finish the tea feels like prolonging the inevitable. The audience wants to go home. They have lives to get back to. They can't live with you and the stage forever.

To your surprise, Hood nods. "Okay. C'mon."

He stands up from the table. You follow him to your bedroom. He pulls open your shirt drawer. You notice the two guns strapped to his hips, two strapped to his ankles, and one bigger gun on his back. You wait for the director's guidance on how you should feel. None comes, so you remain apathetic.

"Choose a shirt," he says. You pick a plain pink t-shirt. Hood closes that drawer and opens your pants drawer. "Choose."

You take a pair of worn pajama shorts because you overheat when you sleep, especially when you're depressed. You're sweaty from your lie-in till two that you took earlier today. Your face is greasy. You're sure your hair isn't nice either.

"Go change," Hood says, walking out of your room. "I'll be outside." He closes the door behind him.

You change, if only out of shock of the Red Hood giving you orders.

"Done," you say, probably too quiet for anyone to hear. But Hood comes in. He looks you over.

"Good." He points to the bed. "Lie down."

You do. Your sheets are gross. They haven't been changed in at least a few months. You're suddenly swollen with shame that anyone, even the Red Hood, is seeing you in this state. Your eyes fill with stinging tears. You should've died before it came to this.

"I'm sorry you had to stop to do this," you say.

Hood's silent for a moment. Then he walks to your side of the bed. He crouches down. His helmet eyes glow in the dark. You've never been less afraid.

This is a plot twist you did not foresee. A new character. A guardian angel. Red in your blue-gray.

"'S not always gonna feel like this," he says.

More tears, more splinters in your throat. "It's felt like this for so long."

"Yeah," he says gently. Gentler than you fucking deserve. "I know."

The writer has overridden the director's wants, and has introduced some new foreshadowing. Should your audience believe it? Or is this a fake-out?

You lie back and want to die a little less. One young woman in your audience chokes up. She believes that you believe you’ll live. She will stay here for as long as it takes for you to make it through act two.

"If you have to go, it's okay," you say.

Hood settles against the wall near your bed. He pulls one knee against his chest. It's almost like you have a friend.

"Nah," he says. "I don't have anywhere to be. I finished my patrol. I'll stay till you fall asleep."

He doesn't ask to stay, and that feels good, not having to make the choice, to face the shame of wanting another person to care about you.

You screw your eyes shut. "Thank you," you whisper.

"I'm gonna bring you a kettle," Hood says.

You laugh. It's small and brittle but it's real. "Okay." You'll have to make it through the night. Red Hood is bringing you a kettle.

You lay there for a long time, not sleeping. You keep your eyes closed. You focus on keeping your breathing even. Then you open your eyes to check.

Hood is still there, sitting against the wall. You wonder if he's fallen asleep too. His voice startles you.

"Still here," he says. "Said I wouldn't go till you sleep. Meant it. Don't worry."

Maybe tomorrow's sun won't be so blue or gray. You fall asleep.

#Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #red Hood x reader #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x yn #Jason Todd x gn reader #Jason Todd imagine #angst #hurt comfort #sad imagine #red Hood x you

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rheasride · 1 day ago

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you’ll be my dirty little secret

title - dirty little secret by artemas

pairing - rafe cameron x afab!reader

summary - you find Rafe alone at a party, you just hope your best friend doesn’t mind you fucking her brother

tags - smut, pre canon, reader is best friends with sarah, toxic relationship, pet names

The bedroom door closes as discreetly as you can mange, a smirk spreading over your face when Rafe lifts his head from his bed at the sound. It’s two and half hours into a party going on downstairs, much longer than either of you expected, and Rafe slipped upstairs for some peace about twenty minutes ago.

“What’re you doing here?” His elbows prop up against the bed as he fixes you with a serious look.

“Looking for the bathroom.” You click the lock on the door to make sure nobody can interrupt you. One too many times of some random almost walking in on you two at party’s has made you a tad paranoid about it.

“Down the hall.” Rafe snaps and drops his head, rolling over in his massive bed. So moody.

“Really? I could’ve sworn it was here last time.” You kick your shoes off and quickly climb into the bed, running a hand over Rafe’s arm lightly, listening to the thrum of music beneath the bedroom get quieter as you tune into Rafe and only Rafe.

“Just stop.” He murmurs but turns onto his back so you’re able to straddle his lap.

“Why? Don’t you like me?” Something along the lines of yearning crosses Rafe’s face- you’re shocked, he never shows this much human affection- but you ignore it in turn of continuing to trace lines over Rafe’s exposed shoulder from the tank top he has on.

“Don’t you remember what happened last time we did this?” Vividly. It ended in an argument so loud Wheezie knocked on the door asking if everything was okay and if she should get Sarah- god, Sarah, you’re best friend, who has no idea you’ve been fucking her brother for months now. But none of that matters right now.

“I’m tipsy and I want you.” As simple as that, you’re not sure anything could change how badly you crave Rafe.

“Sarah’s downstairs.” Rafe’s large hands curl up around your hips that peek out from the short-shorts you have on and crop top you borrowed from Sarah. She’d kill you if she knew you were only thinking about Rafe’s eyes on you when you put it on.

“So is Topper. She’s occupied.” Those two are probably busy fucking in the boathouse or something, they’re always disappearing and leaving you and that pouge girl alone.

“You said you were looking for the bathroom?” The two of you shift so Rafe’s able to press his lips to the corner of your neck and leave behind wet kisses on your sunburnt skin.

“Mm, I need to adjust my bra, it’s bothering me.” Wordlessly, Rafe slides his hands under your shit and undoes the clasps of your bra so he can slip it down your arms through your shirt and discard it to the floor.

“Better?” He asks between kissing lower and lower until you arch into him with a grunt.

“Much.” You push away to finally capture Rafe’s mouth in yours and sink into the familiar feeling of making out with him.

It’s not long before Rafe’s pulling your shorts off and rolling you over to be atop you as he reaches to get rid of his own clothes. It’s all fast moving after that- his fingers in you, your moans coming out unapologetically because you know nobody cares enough to listen, Rafe’s hard length pressing to your thigh, his teeth grazing your throat, a hand in his hair.

“Fuck, baby, so fucking sexy for me.” His voice is broken and breathless as you reach between your legs to finally settle his dick in you. Condom be damned.

“Love it when you call me that.” It tricks your brain into believing your relationship is more serious than it will ever be.

“What sexy? You’re the sexiest fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen.” He groans into you and thrusts his hips so hard your hands grapple to grab at his shoulders.

“Baby. Love those stupid nicknames.” As much as you wished you didn’t, you really really do, especially when it’s Rafe saying them.

“What, you like it when I call you princess? Sweetheart? My fucking girl?” That’s all it takes for you to fall off the edge and stuff your face into Rafe’s chest as you cum across his dick with shaking thighs.

#rhea writes #my writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #outer banks smut

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strawberry-nugget · 2 days ago

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Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x Reader

~You swore you were done with Eijiro Kirishima when he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces. At Mina’s birthday party, her and Ochaco are desperately trying to get you to avoid him. This is what happens when both of you you let your feelings linger though; you find each other no matter what. And, not surprisingly, you both give in.

Tags // Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, kitchen sex, shower sex, dr*g use (reader and Kirishima smoke together), alcohol, slight angst througout, Ex!Kirishima, dacryphilia

All CHARACTERS ARE 20+

Word Count: 25.5k

One last look at the screen of your phone is all it takes before you decide to tap that dreadful post button.

It’s an itch you can't scratch, the nervousness you feel now that you’re posting on your story with only one person in mind, but you tell yourself it's only partially because of him.

Kirishima is the type of person that needs to be punched into next year and certainly not to have someone post a hot story for him on instagram. You indulge, first and foremost, only because the thrill of being able to tell your friends you got him back is exciting.

Definitely not for any other reason.

There's incoherent screaming from the girls all over their apartment and the sound of blow dryer eventually comes to a halt when Mina marches in the bathroom, angry about the time her phone screen displays.

“Just tell me you'll be ready soon”

“I’ll be ready in five”

Mina curses under her breath at Ochako’s response.

Tonight is her party, after all, and she's at least an hour late so by now it really doesn't matter that she's having it at Sero’s place; it's much bigger than the apartment she shares with Ochako, much bigger than yours and it has a rooftop. Who wouldn't want to host their or any party there?

“Ugh whatever, what. Ever.” She shakes her head, bopping her pink ponytail from left to right. “How much time ‘till you're ready?”

You eye her, lip gloss in hand, frenzied about the lipliner you're sure you did not just lose in this mess of a sink you've created, searching left and right, bumping into everything in your way.

“Girl, how can you post a fucking story on instagram when you’re not ready?”

“Uhm”

“No okay,” she shakes her head again, silently rejecting her nerves, truthfully promising herself that she's trying to stay positive “uhm, what shoes are you wearing?”

You glance at her, before Ochako manages to slip once more into the bathroom as well, crowding the space just enough so that you feel pressured to answer both her questions. Chest heaving and breasts almost slipping out of the front of your dress, you open your mouth, words ready to bubble out, when Ochako asks you to move enough so that she can put on her own lipstick.

“Uhm.. heels?” you gulp. “And I'm ready, I just.. I can't go there without that lipliner and you know that.”

Mina stares at your feet and you're so sure she's going to make a comment any second now. Yet ever so sweetly, she opens her lips with a response so peculiar that she doesn’t ever let out. She presses them together instead like she never flapped them open to speak, eyes fluttering close for a second that's enough to make your heart want to jump out of your chest.

Is she on to you? What does she know that you don't want her to know?

“Sero has been calling nonstop. That's all.” she sighs. “We’re supposed to be throwing my party and I'm late. I hate to be late.”

“I know,” You mouth it quietly. Carefully. Even if it's Ochako’s fault for running late to show up, you feel guilty. Even more so that your secret goal of the night is to get back at -or with- Kirishima.

“So please just get ready, you can post to your heart's content when we’re there. ‘Chako, you too baby girl.”

“Nah, I don't need to post anything tonight, Izuku will be the first to see me either way since he’s picking us up!”

Damn you’d actually be happy too if you could say that so casually. But Ochako and Izuku have been dating since high school, so they’re not flaunting anything—other than the fact that she’s crazy and head over heels in love with her man since her teens. Mina has been perfectly adjusted to her beloved city girl life. Wanted by everyone, touched by none. She doesn’t need to be in love to have a good time, unlike you. And in a way, you're too jealous of both.

In a nice way nonetheless.

“I did like your story. I'm sorry I keep mentioning it like that. You look hot.” Your friend smiles at you as she's fixing her ponytail in the mirror next to Ochako.

You go to thank her, as you see her feel just a bit of guilt, past Ochako and the perfume that she’s spraying, when your phone goes off and your screen lights up with the first notification of the night since you posted. Both your eyes and hers land on the notification, as your phone lay in front of her on the sink.

You feel amber orbs are on you, horrified, perfectly overdrawn lips pursing in agony. You try to mouth something like ‘sorry’ to her, but your excitement is too hard to hide.

How do you explain to your best friend that the man who dumped you over someone else, asked you for space and had you bedridden for like a month with all your crying, the man you blocked on all socials and whose phone number you deleted—the man you swore on your life you wouldn't take back even if he came crawling, whom you were supposed to avoid at all costs tonight, just reacted a fire emoji to your story?

“Oh my god.” She speaks, too quietly for your own sanity. She's fuming. “You don’t actually want to come to my party. You want to meet the founding father.”

Ochako turns her head and cocks an eyebrow.

That horrible, heavy feeling is back in your chest again. They're so going to kill you. Your friends are actually going to murder you.

Over still being head over heels and absolutely down for Kirishima that is.

“Oh you mean this lipliner, i just found it,” Ochako shoves the lipliner in your face and Mina instantly gets the chance to snatch your phone. You latch onto her immediately “What founding father are we meeting… When did we decide to go to church?”

Both you and Mina look at Ochako and shake your heads, still fighting over your phone.

“Please, Mina listen,” you cry out, trying to get a grip at your phone. “He's the one. I'm telling you–”

“Kirishima?” Mina scoffs, "Are you insanely delusional? After all that’s happened?”

“Wait, who's the one? God’s the one?”

“Chako what the actual fuck! Lock in please. Kirishima just messaged her!”

Ochako yelps your name. “Oh my god. No!” Mina shakes her head, simply to agree with her and you pout, almost -almost- embarrassed that they found out. They've done their absolute best to keep you away from Kirishima, from hangouts to parties, they've been splitting the group for months to keep the two of you away and up until now they've been very successful.

But definitely not successful enough so that you don't find out Kirishima has broken up with his girlfriend. They've tried to be slick. They've tried to keep it a secret kept away, so very well and so far away from you, but you inevitably overhear it—Mina doesn't know how to work on her apartment's new intercom yet, and you have good ears, when you want to.

All their efforts to keep any information about Kirishima’s break up go to the deepest level of hell, on vacation, and they take you with them because when you hear it slip out their mouths your heart skips so many beats that you think you're actually dying.

You unblock him on Instagram. You make your profile public. You manage to post a story the next time you meet with your shared friends and tag them and they all repost it. And Kirishima adds you again.

You haven't thought of even mentioning it to your friends because you're supposed to never, ever take him back, but it ultimately comes down to tonight. Your phone in Mina's palms.

She's probably going to shove it down your throat.

Instead of actually fleeting to the most brutal and criminal action one can come up with though, Mina hands you your phone, sighing. Her fingers linger on the back of your hand.

“We'll keep you away from him. Promise. ‘Chako we have a mission”

“You have no actual mission. I'm a big girl. I can take responsibility.” you say, and Mina almost holds back her laughter.

“Honey the responsibility shouldn't be having to apologize for sleeping with him, but rather it should be avoiding him. You won't do that. So me and Ochako are going to do it for you.”

As. If

You pucker your lips when Ochako nods, happily. The next ten minutes are spent on wearing shoes and running down the stairs from the third floor in heels. Mina forgets to lock and curses under her breath as she reaches for her keys and runs back up.

Ochako settles in the passenger’s seat of Izuku’s car and you settle right behind her, strapping yourself with the safety belt while greeting an Izuku who already has a mouth stuffed with his girlfriend's tongue. He greets back, politely, slightly flushed; his hands haven’t even left the steering wheel but Ochako’s are palming his cheeks.

Mind you, she practically lives with him.

Before you even have the chance to cringe, or have a whole back arching shiver run through your whole body, Mina slams herself right next to you and her door follows asuit. Izuku complains with a muffled “Please, slower.”

“Oops, im sorry”

Sero’s house is a 15 minute drive from Mina’s and for the first 5 minutes of it, the atmosphere in the car is unbearable. Mina is frantically typing on her phone and thanks to her privacy screen you can't peek -not that you’re not sure what's going on- and Ochako is fixed on holding Izuku’s thigh while his muscles flex everytime he presses the gas to his car. You’re too scared of Mina’s murderous face, so you keep staring at her, back and forth, while trying to get your mind off how nervous you are.

Your thoughts of being salvaged are cut short at the next red light. Izuku’s hands on the steering wheel flex, thumbs only holding onto the leather cover for a second and he eyes you through the mirror.

Uh, oh.

“So.. Kirishima, huh? You haven't seen him in a whil-”

Mina is quicker than his mouth, his words, even his feet when he steps on the gas again and the light that turns green. You simply flinch when you somehow find yourself with muffled ears, eyes wide, hearing almost impaled apart from the fact that you can hear her screech.

“Oh my god! NO! Kirishima does not exist to her. Absolutely not, she's not seeing him!”

“Mina calm the fuck down!” you yell, ripping her hands off your ears while Ochako purses her lips together awkwardly to stare at Izuku.

“Izuku baby, he messaged her”

He stares and stares and stares, with wide eyes and mouth open wide enough or a fly to crawl in. And then he blinks like he’s never blinked again. Rapidly.

“Girl you invited him.” you say, mimicking Ochako’s awkward smile, lips pressed together in a thin line.

Your friend doesn't respond, she too blinks like it's her first time blinking and you feel that awful feeling that Kirishima is to you and your close friend group as it creeps up to your chest. It bubbles and boils like tea in an electric kettle, it messes up your stomach so much that the one shot that you and Ochako had before leaving is about to leap up your throat like it needs to jump off a cliff.

But it’s not like you said something out of lane. What you said was more than justified, because you don’t understand why everyone still hangs out with Kirishima after how he treated you —you do; he’s an amazing friend, truly— but you've long come to accept that you would eventually have to show up to parties you were both invited to.

There’s not a second in which you think that Mina didn’t actually want you to come to her party and only invited you out of sheer pity, just so you wouldn't get mad at her for leaving you out of it.

She loves all her friends and wouldn't discriminate, you tell yourself, but in this case had she really been serious about you avoiding him, she could have skipped inviting Kirishima.

Nonetheless, by the time Izuku parks his car outside of Sero’s house, Mina is looking at you only with kindness. Izuku mentions something about Bakugo cooking to the three of you and Mina assures him she’s going to thank him first things first.

You hesitate as you step out of the car; the hot night air brushing against your skin raises peculiar goosebumps and your nervousness is through the roof. Mina loops an arm around your shoulders, her grip firm. Just enough to remind you she’s not letting you out of her sight. Ochako bounds ahead with Izuku, hand-in-hand and all bubbly, and you're sure they're off for her boyfriend to manage to greet Bakugou first, leaving you alone with Mina’s quiet resolve.

“This is going to be fine,” she murmurs. It’s almost convincing. “you’ll ignore each other and it’ll pass in no time”

You just wish you had her certainty. Instead, your phone burns in your hand like a live wire, and despite yourself, you unlock it and open Instagram for the upteenth time tonight. Kirishima’s notification still oozes in anger, like he’s mocking your very own resolve to momentarily act indifferent towards it. You lock your phone as fast as you open it and Mina has never been happier about an action of yours tonight so far.

“Do not let him ruin this for you,” she says firmly “Tonight is about me, not you thirsting over bad decisions.” and then she laughs, like it's the only thing she could actually do after such a sentence.

“Thirsting is a strong word,” you mutter, but it’s too late. Mina’s already dragging you toward the front door, where the bass from the party’s music thuds so loudly you can feel it in your chest. “It's more like, i really, really love him”

She laughs again, not wide eyed, but out of sheer embarrassment for you. She shall not get angry at you just yet. Perhaps it's just your pregame speaking. For the annoyance and disgust for those feelings you just uttered for the world to hear and hold are too much, too unnecessary.

The moment you step outside, the energy of the party hits you like a wave —music blasting, bodies moving, laughter ringing out from every corner. Sero’s place is lit up in string lights and cheap party decorations, a mix of chaotic vibes and casual elegance that only he could pull off. You wonder if he decorated the place with only his own personal preferences or if Mina actually had anything to do with it, since it’s her birthday party after all.

It seems like everyone is immediately stuck on her like glue, pushing different sizes of bags into her hands while hugging her. You greet everyone you can lay an eye on, politely, like your typical best friend at a birthday party. It's just too fortunate you know most people in here, it’d be an awkward pain in the ass if you didn’t, especially with how everyone is trying to get as much of Mina as they can.

It’s soothing to see that she’s so loved.

“Hey, you made it!” Sero Screams over the music, a red solo cup in hand and a broad grin on his face, grabbing both you and Mina by the waist—god, that mustache he grew has him thinking he’s smoother than water. “Looking sharp as always.”

Mina kisses both his cheeks while he plays with her ponytail and you notice a strange tension in the air that you don’t want to admit. She looks like she was just swept by his waterfall.

In turn, you muster a smile as you hurriedly look for Ochako in the crowd, hoping it’s enough to mask your nerves. “Thanks”

Mina asks him where Bakugo is by whispering it in his ear and covering her mouth with her hand, yet Sero is neither smart nor sober or subtle enough to do such a thing as she does, so he points at the blond with his finger.

“Thats rude, don’t point at him”

“Huh?”

“Ugh whatever” She sighs and fortunately the tension between her and the ravenette spreads thin, slowly. “You! Stay put with Sero”

You swallow hard as your sweaty hand is momentarily left to your own premises, empty of hers, as she’s off to find Bakugo too, just like she announces and you're left alone with Sero, scared to even look at the direction that she’s heading towards. But only while she turns to look back to check you.

He who shall not be named, is right next to his blond friend. Your stomach flips. He looks good —extraordinary good, with his red hair, that white fitted t-shirt and that stupidly charming grin that’s burned into your memory. He’s looking like you couldn't get enough of him even if you had a mouthful. These thoughts are, though, forbidden. So you avoid even batting an eye at him. It’s infuriating how easy he makes it look, existing in the corner of a rooftop that you are also on, at your best friend’s party, so casually.

Sero, who’s obviously noticed the trail of drool running down your mouth at the red head's sight, leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice to speak to your ear. “Heads up. He was asking about you.”

Note to self. Avoid Sero for the rest of the night!

Before you can spiral further, Mina reappears, slipping a drink into your hand. You smell it subtly, recognizing the scent as cognac. “Sero, leave her alone. She doesn’t need your running commentary.”

Nonetheless the topic of conversation is changed faster than light, and you share a laugh or two with Sero, you grab another drink, then Mina wants you to help her with putting away her gifts, then you're off to grab another drink.

Bad idea?

No, not really.

Not when your third drink is going to be just beer. You absolutely will not get drunk this way because in your case, beer should be considered a chaser for the two drinks of cognac you had.

So, you don't even trip on your way to the makeshift bar.

On the other edge of the table that serves as a bar, Kirishima and Bakugo are hot on a conversation and you edge closer when you notice the redhead looking at you, ever so aware of your presence.

Bakugo greets you, Kirishima doesn’t, so you greet Bakugo back before he somehow, immediately disappears into the bunch of the people that are at Sero’s rooftop. Typical. The two of them have this uncanny, wordless way of communicating, and it’s more than likely that this sudden departure is part of some unspoken plan.

You try not to care, shake it off, try to focus on your drink, but your head buzzes too loud, whether it's because you're so close to Kirishima for the first time tonight or the cognac, you don't even know.

When you turn to look at Kirishima again, he's not at the spot he was seconds ago and assuming he's gone like his friend, you sigh in relief, for that was so close. So narrowly avoided.

Just when you feel like you can get your drink and run towards Ochako, life slips away from your poor body. It's him, closing in, muttering something. To you? Yes, to you and god you can’t hear him over the music or the sound of your heart palpitating and spilling all your stress to block your eardrums.

You're sure you look like an absolute clown —this isn't even a Halloween party thus it's so not justified, your clownery is woefully out of place— with your wide eyes and pursed lips. Hadn’t you baked your lip liner you're sure with all the pursing you’re doing you could actually be able to look worse. Oh great. Now he's towering over you, he’s just so close that you can't ignore him anymore even if you want to.

You’ll have to be forced to speak to him. And you shouldn’t have worn these heels because your knees are wobbly -jello even- and your breath is short. On top of that your head is ringing and that really sharp pain under your left breast is trying to poke right through your dress like a blade. Perhaps this is what a stroke feels like. Or, or, a heart attack.

You shouldn't be feeling like this. You should be thinking of all the times you’ve cried over him, the times you’ve laid on the floor of your bathroom asking yourself what you did so wrong in telling him you love him that he never said it back. You just shouldn’t be thinking that he looks fucking good, while he’s looking at you like you’re his pray.

Maybe Mina should have killed you in her bathroom, or in the car. So you wouldn’t be anticipating every step that led Kirishima to you in this very instant.

“Bakugo made the canapes so you should-”

Kirishima’s hands are almost hovering above your naked waist, you’re almost a puddle and the world is seconds away from disappearing underneath your feet when Mina stomps in between you. She hip bumps him away with a gracious sway and a devious smile.

“Excuuuuuse me” She laughs, you giggle too, while being dragged away from him.

One breath in and one out eventually make your heartbeat normal. Even while stalling soundly after your friend, your feet are dragging like dead weight.

You will be just fine; Mina will not leave your side, even when you try to slip away. For how dare he approach you without a warning on casual intentions. How could he not even inform you that you're at the basis where you ignore the last few events that have occurred between you?

At least Mina has some common sense when looking out for you.

You look at her and she looks back at you and she’s got that disappointed motherly facade that's painted on her features that you can’t bring yourself to like.

Come to think of it, whether you had or hadn’t wished she could come to your saving there’s a coil spinning ever so slightly in the pit of your stomach about it— it’s fixed by her expression right now. You can't even begin to describe the feeling inside you, can’t still place it in the rage of emotions you recognise. But you're willing to let it simmer to a simple boil in the pits of your stomach for now. Tuck it away until you find a word to title it with.

A chit-chat with someone else, a smoke with Sero and a swirl on the side of the rooftop that everyone uses to dance and Mina corners you on the edge of the railing between Izuku and Ochako before disappearing into the crowd. Beer in one hand and Ochako clasped in the other you dance awkwardly to a pop song that she knows all the lyrics to. Mina still looks sour, maybe a little less than before though.

She whispers something to Ochako and you know who it is about, without even having to guess. A thoughtless, drunk mind such as yours right now can only be occupied by facts such as the one before your eyes. The one being whispered about you amongst your friends and another fact that is standing a few feet away from you.

Desperate eyes fall on desperate ones and you share a look with Kirishima -all you can do apparently- that Ochako doesn’t notice, though she's turned in your direction, as she closes her eyelids and shoots her hands in the air to dance, draggin your poor hand with her.

This is a plea to dance, but you stand motionless like a wooden pencil. Balanced. You’re not going to dance when Kirishima watches you, because you don’t quite enjoy looking ridiculous in front of him.

Your stomach takes another twist when you sip some more of your beer.

He shoots you a silly expression, one you’re accustomed to, one you’ve seen so many times. Averting your eyes, refusing to ruin your mood further, you’re back to your setting; Ochako, Izuku and a Mina that’s back with shots that she obviously shouldn’t have carried on her own, because they’re spilling everywhere. You don't know when she left to go get them, but a glass is shoved in your hands hurriedly.

You down it and your hands are sticky.

It’s so hot outside that your skin feels heavy, your dress is sticking to you in the most overstimulating places on your skin.

You find Kirishima watching you when you comply with the itch in your chest to just check on him again and your stomach is doing flips about it—coils that were previously burning in it be damned and all. He’s. Watching. You.

You wonder if it’s just the alcohol, the summer weather, or if you’re genuinely burning alive under Kirishima’s gaze.

It's almost unbearable, really, that he’s close enough to breathe the same air as you, and yet here you are, locked in this tug-of-war with your own impulses. Fight or flight, or just stand there, paralyzed, pretending you have better things to do with your friends than simply admire the way his stupidly perfect jawline catches the light. It has to look like you’re having fun.

If only you could manage to slip away from your friends, bent on this newly found desire within you to properly greet him.

You want to play in the scenario of ignoring everything that's happened so far just to fake being kind to him. The shot you had isn't helping at having any clear thoughts at all.

A good excuse to leave on your own would be to ask for more shots, but you doubt that three people would go fetch them, they'd either take you with them or they would just send the less drunk right now to do so. In this case, Izuku. Which leaves you with two people sworn to keep you away from your red headed target.

It seems like every plan you come up with sounds absolutely useless before this cerberus that your friends have formed into, transforming your gaze into a deeper level of despair with every thought you throw away from your brain.

Mina will absolutely not let you leave on your own, unless, if it's to see someone else. You try to think fast, past the buzz inside your head.

Maybe Jirou, since she's the DJ for tonight. Why wouldn't you want to request a song at your best friend's party?

Seeing that your new idea is so brilliant you're off without announcing it, slipping through people, shot glasses that clank against each other and a yelling Bakugo who serves as a beacon for Kirishima’s location. Can't lose your favorite man if his best friend is so loud.

They're so close to where Jirou is, right next to her booth and they're chatting with Kaminari, so until they notice you charging to their direction you straighten your pose and run your hands up and down your dress, in case you need to smooth any wrinkle. It’s not like your walk is as proud as you're hoping it is, given the fact that you have a buzz and there's a ton of people that you have to slip in between, but at least every step gets you closer to your target's location. You'll keep the hot girl facade on as long as you can, though.

The first sign of your arrival -even if you yourself consider the distance between you too big, still- is that Jirou smiles when she sees you and instantly yells your name. Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo look at you at the same time, but it's only Kaminari that smiles along with his girlfriend.

Jirou hits him softly with her elbow, signing to him to step in the booth so she can come to you and he immediately plugs his headphones in the aux the same time Jirou pounces on you.

“I haven't seen you all night! How are you?”

“I'm okay” You say, opting to glare at Kirishima for only a second. “I'm on Minachako arrest!” He stares back.

“Ohh,” She pauses to think, and her thoughts land her just behind her back “Eiji?”

All your friends know you. Too well for your own good. It's almost making your skin crawl.

“Yeah”

Jirou looks at you like she actually understands you. With lips pressed in a thin line on the side of her face and eyebrows furrowed in what resembles pity; she places her glance back and forth between you and the redhead.

“You could talk to him”

“Oh absolutely not, it's okay, we did greet each other”

There it is; your million dollar, Oscar worthy performance. You pretend to be so nice about it, yet, you speak loud enough so that Kirishima cocks an eyebrow in your direction, smacking his lips. You need to smile in triumph now that your plan has worked.

“But” She pauses, unsure if what she wants to tell you is correct “he's right there. Come on”

“It’s complicated,” you mutter, turning back to Jirou and taking a long, burning sip of your drink.

“Complicated,” she repeats, deadpan. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Right,” she drawls, rolling her eyes. “like it's totally normal behavior to stare at someone like you want to eat them alive but not actually say anything. Y'all need to grow up. Both of you”

Your eyes dart to Kirishima before you can stop yourself. He’s still there, still looking, and it feels like the moment freezes when your gazes collide. The playful smile that tugs at the corners of his lips is like a match to a gasoline-drenched nerve.

You look away first.

‘Grow up.’ That's such bullshit. You're both all grown up. Grown ups make humiliating choices all the time.

You deadpan Jirou, pouting your lower lip. She raises her hands in mock surrender, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes that you hate.

“I just wanted to request a song though”

“Kay! Denki! Song request!”

You don't dare tell her you only used her as an excuse to get to Kirishima and you definitely can't tell her you're so glad you found him there. So you turn to Kaminari, looking somewhat like a wet dog, as if he would ever let you leave this down had he not been drunk and tell him the first song that comes to your mind.

Your request is a transition away and your body is pressed next to Kirishima's faster than you can process. Should it actually feel so awkward to be a winner?

Despite the eternally painful awkwardness of your body language, you could kiss Jirou on the mouth for playing devil's advocate right now. She simply smiles in a way only she thinks is subtle, because truthfully everyone sees, but you're so past the embarrassment of your intentions being known.

In a way that's smoother than water, she grabs Bakugo and pulls him to her, for a hug, and both you and Kirishima chuckle when he whines and tries to throw her hands away from him, to no avail.

Had you been Kaminari, you'd cry your eyes out daily at how good a relationship she's got with Bakugo.

“He's still acting like this?” You ask, for no one but Kirishima to answer. He's the only one who listens to you nonetheless.

“Well you do hang out with him, you know him.”

Ouch.

You've expected a remark like this from him, coated in irony so it's not like he catches you off guard with his tone. It's the context in which he speaks his words that's infuriating. Your face grows sour, in realization of his complaint, lips pouting when you think you also hate it that the two of you share most of your friends.

And yet, instead of actually barking back like you'd always do, you roll your eyes at him, completely consumed by that well known feeling that is him making you mad. The shaking, the weak knees, the empty feeling in your stomach; you've not felt that in so long that it seems like you're able to experience emotions again.

Εven if that's not something you want to dwell on, given that there are a thousand negative emotions and a lot of crushed healing journeys hidden behind it, you choose to only look at him again - since that’s the only thing you can both physically do for the night, back turned against Jirou and Bakugo, finally, so you can inspect the people dancing on the rooftop, once you decide Kirishima is not a sight for sore eyes.

He meets your eyes with a tilt of his head even if his body is turned facefront and towards his friends. None of you notice how quiet Jirou, Denki and Bakugo are, and even if you did, you both would consider that it’s only because you can’t listen to them over the loudness of the music.

There's a peculiar shift in the air between you, something that screams for salvation like a prey, trapped in a beast's sharp mouth. It's just the nuisance of the two of you, the tenderness of a moment that shouldn't exist outside of shared memories.

Yet here you are, same as him, totally engulfed and engrossed in the twilight of it.

The nature of the pull that's still evident between the two of you blooms and spurts seeds of painful flowers in your lungs.

You lick some of your lipgloss, longing for a taste that's sweeter than the bitter feeling in your chest and it's no use; the poison that’s dripping within your insides is contributing to the ignition of a fire that no cherry flavored lip gloss can put out.

You put so much effort to just say “I won't do it anymore then” just for his voice to overlap yours.

“Dance a little”

Your dislike for what he spurt out is too evident in your face, but your expression softens when he wiggles a hand underneath the railing your chest has weighted on, to pull you closer to him.

Does his hand have to feel so warm?

You’re stuck side to side with Kirishima and your small audience is left speechless; Bakugo averts his eyes, mouth all wide before he shoots Jirou’s hands off him, ready to walk away again, but you don’t notice, you wouldn’t even if you could, not when Eijiro’s palm wraps so smoothly around your waist. There’s nothing to see, not even for Jirou, in your small corner. Your lack of interest in your surroundings confirms that.

He gives you a shake, the smallest one, to just introduce some movement to your body and you follow his lead blindly as he handles you in front of him, back pressed against his chest. It’s so smooth that you let yourself go, ignoring that silly voice in the back of your head that tells you you’re going to embarrass yourself if you dance with him.

Big hands rest on where your hips start, at the curve of your waist but they don’t apply pressure. He sways with you, bobs his head when you do and you don't seem to remember that he never dances either, hell you don’t even remember you don’t.

It feels so good to just link your body like this with his, with his breath cooling your neck. If it wasn’t the middle of the summer and you weren't dripping in sweat you would dare to move even more. For a few more moments, you let him move your body the way he pleases as the music moves him.

Your buzz is delicious right now, so much that you can’t even decide if what's going on is actually true. Your hips work, finally, beyond his hands and you’re grinding against him, before you even realise it.

The monster that resides deep within your thoughts awakens your lust and eats away every possible thought that could lead you to rejecting his touch.

The tips of Kirishima’s fingers dig into your hip bone, snatching a handful of satin clothed skin and he presses you impossibly onto him. You whine your hips to his, eyes closed, ignoring the twitch between your legs when he rests his forehead to the crook of your neck just so he can muster up the courage to move his hands in exploring a body that’s so well known to him.

In a big effort to try and show him that you want him too, you wrap one arm around his head, touching his face, the back of his neck, the dimple on top of his shoulder through his shirt.

From that moment on it's like you’ve unleashed a beast.

The thin, elastic band of your underwear softly snaps against your skin -is this too fast?- and you can't think of anything other than how firm the pads or his fingers are -were? always have been?- over your dress. Your stomach sinks inside your skin and bones.

This is you slowly giving in to him again. Empty headed. Teary eyed. Pressed onto him for dear life.

You barely feel the vibration of your phone, too engulfed in this moment of finally getting what you want and for a while it’s easy to ignore it, like it doesn't happen. It never even rang. But your eyes shoot open when you come to your senses, a few more rings in.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Mina.

You split yourself from Kirishima so fast, it could actually sound like ripping paper in half. Like velcro on shoes.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed. He looks like a child whose christmas gift has been ripped away from his hands by his sibling. His hands even maintain their hold on you.

“Fuck i gotta go! Mina will kill me”

“You could—wait! I wanna talk!”

You look at him exactly how he deserves with the nonsense he’s speaking, in disbelief and confusion. Talk? Even if you did stay to talk, Mina would find you, anywhere. You’re still contemplating whether this girl has made you eat an airtag without you realising and the fact that you’ve even managed to slip away from her for this long is remarkable.

It's as simple as this; Ochaco may not get mad at you if she catches you with Kirishima, she might just give you ‘a talk’, but Mina will absolutely murder you.

Rightfully so. You're hidden away from the friends that want nothing but you to be well, with the only person that is able to send you to psychosis in the case he decides it's so funny to break your heart again. And you danced with him, in front of your friends.

Everyone must think you’re an idiot. And Kirishima, he just might know it for sure. Talking is nothing but an excuse to get you to hook up with him.

You shake your head instead of responding ‘no’ to him and wiggle yourself away from him, ready to run to Mina.

_________

As you weave your way through the crowd, you’re hyper aware of everything—your pounding heart, the lingering warmth of Kirishima's touch on your skin, and the faint scent of his cologne that still clings to your dress. The guilt gnaws at you with every step, but it’s drowned out by the electric buzz in your veins. Mina is going to tear you apart, but somehow, the bigger fear isn’t her wrath; it’s the thought of looking back and seeing Kirishima standing there, watching you leave again.

When you finally spot Mina across the rooftop, she’s mid-laugh with Ochaco, drink in hand, her head thrown back as though she hasn’t a care in the world. Relief surges through you.

When you think of it, there's no possible way in the whole known and unknown universe that Mina and Ochacko don’t know where you had been for all the while you were gone. No matter how much you fix your dress, your hair, no matter how much lipgloss you reapply, you reek of Kirishima's heavy cologne, or so you believe, and your heart has ceased to exist.

Their eyes look nothing but innocent, deprived of any mean thoughts concerning you and the redhead, hell you're not even sure they could imagine you would find ways to facilitate a plan to just get some time alone with him.

It's so splitting, they're not stupid enough to believe this. The issue is they probably trust you enough to not do such a thing.

You steel yourself, pulling your best ‘everything’s fine’ expression onto your face and saunter over as casually as you can muster. But Mina’s sharp eyes catch yours almost immediately, and her smile falters just slightly.

“Where have you been?” she asks, her tone deceptively light but laced with the edge of suspicion. You are not surprised.

“Just… talking to Jirou,” you reply, keeping your voice steady as you point in the vague direction of the DJ booth. It’s technically true. At least for a moment.

Mina smiles at you, warmly this time, Ochako smiles at you again but your head is buzzing. You're too nervous, almost blurting everything in a tone of denial. I definitely didn't dance with Kirishima while I was at it.

“Thank god, I thought you were with him again. I started to get so worried”

Your stomach drops, and the heat rushes to your face. Did she see you?. Mina always sees and it's nerve wracking to wait for confirmation on her part.

“I wasn’t-" You try to deflect, but her raised eyebrow silences you. Lying would only dig you deeper into the hole you’re already in, but you do it anyway “I'm a big girl, Mina, I told you. Just went to request a song from Jirou.” Technically, that is true.

You glance at Ochako, whose gaze softens when she meets yours. She offers you a small smile, and you feel a twinge of guilt. If anyone is going to see through your facade, it’s her.

“Did Jirou play it yet?” Ochaco asks, sipping from her cup and you nod in response.

“Did you see Kirishima over there? Bakugo’s being his usual loud self, so I bet they’re hanging out by the booth. He’s hard to miss.”

Your stomach twists at the mention of his name, but you keep your face neutral, shrugging casually. Mina raises an eyebrow at you, her grin turning sly. “You sure you didn’t go over there just to sneak a peek?”

Ochaco gives her a light nudge. “Mina, leave her alone. She’s probably just trying to enjoy the party.”

“I am enjoying the party,” you say, forcing a lightness into your tone, bopping your head to the side like it's the most natural thing in the world.

There's anxiety running in your bloodstream with every spoken word, making your hands shake. Even when you want them to believe you, you're not entirely sure they do and your tummy is churning.

“Great, just don’t stroll off on your own!”

Ochako smiles and places her hand on your shoulder “Mmh, Mina relax, the night is young”

“OCHAKO!” Mina screams “m'not leaving her outta my sight”

She's warmer than the hot summer air when she wraps her arms around you from behind, excited to place a lipstick stained kiss over your hair, right where your ear is.

In any other scenario you wouldn't feel so suffocated. But you lied to her, slipped away from her and grinded against him for no other reason than giving in to your carnal desires when she just wants to desperately keep you away from someone who’s been cruel to you. Secretly, dizzy in your buzzed out state, you hate the remembrance that it's fine when she goes back to her exes.

Whatever it is you feel, you don't speak on it once you realize that the churning pit in your stomach is your need to pee -such a relief- and you inform your friends you are going to the bathroom, in case you can escape the back and forth movement of Mina's sway while she's got you in her arms.

“Kay i’m coming with you” Mina says and lingers her fingers in between yours.

You roll your eyes, laughing along even though the tension in your chest refuses to ease. “You don’t have to, I'm not going to see him there too.”

But she comes, nonetheless, almost skipping the steps downstairs and through the hall of Sero’s house. It’s too hot inside, it’s too humid outside and yours and Mina’s sticky hands merged together are almost giving you a sensory hell; Perhaps it was a good idea to let her come with you to the bathroom, so both of you can wash your hands from spilled booze and gathered sweat.

Every step you take is frenzied, and she notices, being the better alcohol handler that she is in comparison to you. Your mind is a warzone, flashing images of Kirishima's hands on your waist, reminding you of the way his forehead pressed against the curve of your neck, the heat of his body against yours. You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. Mina doesn’t know. She can’t know. If you act normal, everything will be fine.

The bathroom is your personal oasis, a sole chance of salvation, to tuck yourself away from everyone for even a few moments.

You go in first and in seconds you’re done, allowing Mina to go inside after you. You don’t look at yourself in the mirror, scared to see anything in your makeup that isn’t perfect. You’d rather not be aware of something you ultimately can't fix.

With your back against the wall, you find some of the coolness of it almost soothing. For a moment, you almost feel normal, safe, like you can forget the whirlwind of emotions threatening to pull you under.

Almost, because concrete drinks up the heat worse than a sponge does water, almost, because that red haired devil announces himself to you all of a sudden again. It'd be silly to think you can actually escape him when you've infiltrated his mind. Assuming you've managed to rile him up.

He wouldn't have followed your tail to the bathroom had you not done so. Right?

Nonetheless, your heart stops as Kirishima’s voice cuts through the muffled music in the distance. He’s closer than you expected, leaning casually against the doorframe at the far end of the hall. His eyes meet yours, warm and intense, and you feel your throat tighten.

This time he greets you casually again, with “Mina’s in?”

Oh dear god how you wish to escape him.

You shoot him what you can only hope to be one of your most murderous looks and reply. “Yeah”

“Cool. I’ll wait”

Panic flashes through you. Mina is just a few feet away, the bathroom door closed but the lock undone. She could walk out any second and catch the two of you like this. Your brain screams at you to do something -anything- to put distance between you and him. But your body betrays you, frozen in place.

There’s so much effort put into being silent or not looking at him that you think you’re going to burst. Whatever cool girl persona you’re trying and failing to put on is just… so, so bad. You wonder if there’s anything you can do, or say, to just ease this. Ask him how he’s been? Anything? No? You did grind the entirety of your ass against his groin just a little while ago. So you're not sure it's really appropriate to casually ask anything like that.

“Listen i-” He speaks first, like he can read your mind but this time you are the one to overlap your voices.

“What are you doing here?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper but still authoritative.

Kirishima tilts his head, studying you for a moment before answering. “Looking for you.” He clears his throat before he continues “I wanted to say.. I hope you’ve been okay”

You huff in response.

“Don’t want to talk to me? That’s fine” he pouts. And you suddenly think you can forget that time you thought you could die from how much you had been crying about the heartbreaker that he is. “You did dance with me though”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, glancing toward the bathroom door.

“I know,” he interrupts, stepping closer. Not enough to breach your space entirely, but enough that you feel the heat of his presence.

You want to tell him a drunken dance isn't enough to have the two of you on casual terms again. But while studying his face, you come across realities you just need to ignore.

His lips are so plum, his nose is so delicate, the strands of hair that fall from his low bun are so magical. It’s really no wonder what you've ever liked in him. You’ve liked everything. It's so infuriating. He shouldn’t really be doing this to you. Because every minute MIna takes in the bathroom is a minute that you forget the past. And you look at his chest so you don’t look him in the face but he looks so soft. It could actually kill you—but It just makes you mad instead.

“Why do you care how I've been?” you ask.

He leans on his bicep, right onto the wall, right next to you.

His hair is so wild. The carmine of his eyes is too piercing for that expression that’s adorning his face. And oh dear god his arms are huge. You're so ruined by him and it kills you to realize that you already knew that and you're still choosing to engage with him.

Eijiro Kirishima looks soft— he’s so far from it. Alas, for some reason you mimic him so much that you’re standing face to face. There’s not an answer to your question, not a direct one at least and you tell yourself it's because he does care about you. Just not in the way you care about him.

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, lips tucked tightly under teeth and crossed armed. One is determined to break a wall, the other trying to crawl up that wall with blood, sweat and tears.

“You know i-”

“No i don’t” You cut him off and he leans in impossibly closer. “Don't say it”

You’re suddenly aware of how long his eyelashes are and this party isn’t fun anymore.

The tension between you could snap the air in two. Kirishima’s gaze locks onto yours, heavy and unyielding, and your heart is pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. Every nerve in your body screams at you to push him away, to step back, to run—but you don’t. You can’t. His presence is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit against all reason.

The bathroom door creaks slightly, and both your heads snap toward the sound. It’s still closed. Mina’s still inside. But the reminder of her so close, the precariousness of this situation, sends a wave of panic crashing over you.

“Go,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the effort to keep it steady. “Before she comes out.”

You move your hands as in to go and push against his chest when ultimately, you decide not to— and so you awkwardly stand with your hands hanging mid air. You’re unsure of what to do with them.

Kirishima, however, doesn’t budge. He stays exactly where he is, his arm braced against the wall beside you, his body a shield between you and the rest of the world. His lips part, and you think he’s going to argue, but instead, he says something that takes your breath away.

“I miss you.”

You try to hold on to your anger, your hurt, but it slips through your fingers like specs of sand. It doesn’t matter that you can’t fall for this again. His bluntness, the way he speaks it like it’s a given fact that you should absolutely know on your own, kills you.

“Kirishima,” you start, your voice sharp but still wavering. The bathroom door clicks open before you can have a chance to reply, to even weave a coherent sequence of words with your weakened thoughts, and Mina steps out, immediately clocking the two of you. Her eyes narrow, suspicion flaring to life as she takes in the scene. You push yourself off the wall, putting some much needed space between you and Kirishima.

You look at her with your mouth agape and your hands still dance awkwardly before your chest.

Mina swoops her hand and locks her elbow into yours in the right -or rather wrong- time and you’re dragged away from Kirishima again. He, in return, chuckles in amusement like he knows better and as the music starts to become loud and clear in your hearing and you’re drifting away from him, watching him as he turns smaller and smaller with your every step you realise— this party can be fun again.

Your friend is furious this time, though, muttering something like “you cannot be left alone for a second”. That horrible coil in your stomach is back “You’ll just stay by me the whole night”

You’re tossed on cushion and if your heart trying to jump out of your chest wasn’t enough to make your whole body shake, Mina plops right next to you, imprisoning you to your seat.

Thus, you find yourself trapped, like a highschooler on detention, with half your heart up your sleeve, on one of the couches that are on the rooftop, squeezed between Tetsutetsu and Mina, blinking at their conversation about a recent paper they had to finish for one of their shared classes. You’re so naturally bored out of your mind and drunk and all you can think about is the way Kirishima looked at you outside of the bathroom.

The words he spoke.

Your first instinct to make this wave of boredom -and these poisonous thoughts- wash away from your mind and body, is to open your phone and scroll through Instagram, refusing so profoundly to even acknowledge the only conversation you get to hear at a party in the middle of the summer is about university.

Quick and as instinctively as it gets, you glance at the pink and yellow gradient of Instagram story icons, and you tap at the screen fast, pretending you haven’t seen Kirishima's icon lined up at the top of your homepage, bright green adorning it.

Mina sees.

Strike one.

You tap out, faking a small scroll on your homepage as you swipe the screen, carefully, eyeing the conversation with Kirishima that screams unread. You're sure, if this notification could speak, i’d be screaming at you to open it like a caged and hurt tiger cub.

Naughty fingers linger just above it and you wish you too had a privacy screen right now, like Mina, because all you can do is sink into the soft pillow of the couch, elbows close to your waist. You almost think you have shielded yourself away from her.

Eyes scanning the area, you manage to spot Kirishima. And he spots you instantly. You don’t smile at each other, you don't wave, there’s nothing you can do to cover for what he said to you a few minutes before because Mina made it awkward.

You just blink at him, slowly and he eyes you up and down. Legs, hair, face, shoulders, the phone in your hands and then your eyes again.

Both Tetsutetsu and Mina see.

Strike two.

He reaches for his pocket, frantically searching for his phone—perhaps he's not as clueless as they get, after all. With a quick lock of gazes that speak in the same, delinquent language of lust, you open the chat while he unlocks his phone.

Strike three.

Mina snatches your phone.

Tetsutsetu looks at you apologetically but your furrowed brows and your perked ears shoo him away from even steering a word. You're angry, mad, furious, that your best friend is treating you like you're her property. Like you should hereby follow her orders like they're vital.

“This is so not funny. Give me my phone” You yell, even if the music is louder than your voice and extend your open palm to her, expecting your device to be handed to you.

“Absolutely not. You’re gonna text him.”

“And what’s it to you? Why do you care so much?”

Your friend widens her eyes in confusion, anger, sadness. You know you shouldn’t have said that, with how much she’s been by your side all this time but her behavior tonight is crippling you. It's suffocating you. If you want Kirishima and he wants you, then there’s absolutely nothing that your friends can do to stop the two of you. You wanna have your heart ripped out again and have the pieces fed to you by force? Fine—not fine, really, that heartbreak almost killed you, but it should be your choice!

You want to scream. You want to yell at her, at Tetsutetsu, at the universe for orchestrating this whole damn night against you. Instead, you grit your teeth so hard you can feel your jaw tighten and pull at your temples.

Mina’s holding your phone like it’s the nuclear launch codes, her lips pursed into a line that’s both furious and disappointed and her ponytail bops. It’s not a look you’re unfamiliar with tonight, but that doesn't make it sting any less. And there’s Kirishima, somewhere in the periphery, probably wondering why you haven’t texted him yet, silently demanding a response from you- probably thinking about that goddamn dance and how easy it is for him to pull you back in and make you nervous with his confession.

Your chest heaves as you force yourself to take a breath.

“I’m not a child, Mina,” you say, your voice barely above the music, but it’s sharper than glass, intended to be mean.

Mina crosses her arms, holding your phone to her chest like she’s guarding your entire future. “No, you’re just acting like one. What’s your plan here, huh? Just let him screw you over again?”

Tetsutetsu shifts awkwardly beside you, eyes flicking between the two of you like he’s waiting for someone to call timeout. It gets worse when you think that he’s friends with the person you're fighting with Mina about.

“This isn’t about you!”

Mina yells something incoherent back and you decide you can't just ruin her party because you want that red devil to eat your heart out. You are not a bad friend. But the frustration and heat of the night makes your blood boil. “Why do you care so much if I want to talk to him?”

“Because you’re my friend!” Mina snaps, stepping closer, her voice trembling just enough to let you know she’s holding back from bursting to tears. “Because I saw what he did to you last time. Because I care about you more than that asshole ever will!”

It feels like she’s just punched you in the chest. It pains you more than the notion that you’re the terrible friend that’s making her cry on her birthday. And maybe she has a point—maybe she’s entirely right- but you’re so tired of everyone else deciding what’s best for you, like you’re some fragile thing that’ll shatter if you make one wrong move, just because they’ve all watched you break once doesn't mean they can stop it from happening again. It’s your own heart that’s to decide if the need to shatter again is or isn’t vital.

“But you’re friends with him!”

“Uh, maybe we should all just, you know, calm down?” Tetsutetsu interferes awkwardly, glancing between you and Mina.

Her face twists into something unreadable because you’re right, and for a second you think she’s going to throw your phone off the rooftop just so you can avoid him. But she sighs, loud and sharp and shoves the device into your hand. There's no real winning when he's in the same space as you. Whether you have your phone or not, it's pointless.

“Fine. Whatever.” She turns away, her arms folded tight across her chest “Do what you want.” She yells, finally, and your eyes are too watery to notice hers are a mirror of yours.

You don’t move at first, your heart still pounding, the weight of the phone in your hand feeling like it might just crush you. Tetsutetsu mutters something about grabbing another drink and slips far away, leaving you and Mina in silence, the distant bass of the party the only thing keeping the moment from completely unraveling.

“Go ahead. Text him. Meet him. Fuck him all you want. Let him stomp on your heart all over again. But don’t say I didn’t warn you and don’t come crying to me afterwards either.”

Her words sting more than you want to admit, it’s evident in your face when you mutter that you want to go home.

Mina softens her eyes immediately at that. Maybe you both took it too far, but there’s no satisfaction in the kindness she tries to show you when she goes to hug you. She’s not the one who looks like she’s going to burst into tears anymore. You are. And you avoid her open arms, choosing to back away.

You take a step back, avoiding her touch like it burns. The lump in your throat feels like it might choke you, and the tears threaten to spill over. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice trembling. “I need space.”

Her hands drop to her sides, and her face falls, stricken. “I didn’t mean-” she begins, but you shake your head, cutting her off.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, though you’re not sure if you believe it. “I just need some air.” backing away further. The music, the party, the noise; it all fades into the background as you turn and weave through the crowd, desperate to escape. Desperate to breathe.

You don’t know what makes you look up, but when you do, before you storm off the party and leave Mina to have her fun without having to look out for your excuse of an ass, your eyes find Kirishima again, like they always do tonight. He’s still standing there, leaning against the edge of the rooftop with one hand in his pocket, his head tilted just slightly as he watches you.

You wish this was one of the times you could confide in him about the problems that you’re facing, as you’ve done so a lot of past times, but it’s so hard to want him when he’s not even willing to do that anymore. You’re not sure you can trust him with your heart again. Part of you just wants to behave to Mina’s advice. You just want to be a good friend.

You fall victim to the ghost of stomping off at parties every time you’re invited to one and to think that this would be different would be a false hope. The worst is that this time everyone is here to witness it. You’re gone, slipping past the crowd and toward the stairs, your heart pounding louder than the music.

______

If you could physically cool down in the middle of the summer, from that nasty attitude of yours to your best friend and that need for a douchebag that will chew you and spit you again, you would. The trick of sticking your open back to any concrete wall is so banal by now. Your legs are shaking. The cigarette you’re smoking is almost out -halfway- and you feel so emotionally tired that you don’t even want to light it up again.

You want to go home, somehow, even considering getting yourself an Uber so you can get out as fast as you can. Mina is everywhere watching over like a tyrant and so is Kirishima. They've been hot on your every step.

But Kirishima's too good at finding you when you're not even trying to hide.

He finds you -hidden this time- on the outside of that small kitchen door that leads to the backyard of Sero’s house. Although he doesn’t ask you if you’re alright, your lips are pouted, your eyebrows scrunched into a line in the middle of your forehead. He knows that you're mad since he's inflicted anger on you a thousand times before.

“Shoo. I'm not supposed to talk to you” You almost bark, not even looking at him, yet, he simply ignores it. He wants to talk to you and there's nothing you can do to stop him.

“Mina doesn’t allow you to? huh”

You cringe at his chuckle and he giggles again. It's almost hard to believe they were such good friends all these years ago. But you do confirm what he asks when you don't reply. You're so tired of wishing it was different and you really want to go home. Avoid all this trouble, avoid him, avoid getting swooned by him.

“Ahh, you know-”

It's just a few syllables and you're locked in his eyes, heart palpitating as red fills everything in your vision. Whether it's him or the hotness of your feelings.

The coil in your stomach is back—finally, as if it ever left- revealing itself as dread and anger for everyone. Anger for Mina trying to force you to act a certain way, anger at Kirishima for not leaving you alone, anger at yourself for giving him a chance to make you fold again. You choose to bark when you can't bite. There's no universe in which you win a fight over Kirishima.

“You look like you want to say something,” he says softly, stepping closer, his tone both curious and coaxing.

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you try to steady yourself. The ache in your chest sharpens as the weight of everything presses down on you. You can’t hold it in any longer. You’re so angry and confused.

“No, fuck you. Go back to the girlfriend that you love so much”

For a moment, his expression flickers. Surprise, then hurt, flashing so quickly you almost miss it. Then his lips curl into a smirk, the sharp edge of it cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Awww..Thought you knew we broke up, when you unblocked me and all”

Oh so he’s playing you. Great.

Your stomach churns. The way he says it, so casual, so smug, choking on a little laugh while he’s at it, makes your blood boil. You cross your arms, leaning against the cool brick wall as if it could shield you from his presence.

“You think this is funny?” you snap, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he says, his smirk softening into something more genuine, something more infuriatingly earnest. “I just think it’s interesting.”

“Interesting?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders moving effortlessly, the motion somehow both casual and loaded. “You’re still this angry. Still... passionate.”

“Passionate?” you echo, the word sour on your tongue. Had you been passionate about it he still wouldn’t be seeing the end of it. You thought he knew you like that. “I’m pissed. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.” His voice is calm, maddeningly so, as he leans a little closer. “But I think you’re pissed because you still care.”

His words hit like a slap, the kind that stings and lingers long after. The kind that leaves an angrily red handprint after. You want to deny it, to tell him he’s wrong, but the words won’t come. Instead, you press your palms against the wall behind you, your nails scraping against the rough surface.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mutter. It lacks the venom you wish it carried, because you hope he does the opposite of what you’re saying.

He doesn’t back off. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying you like he’s trying to read a book that’s just out of reach. “You ever think maybe I’m still bothering because I care too?”

That shuts you up. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. The weight of his words hangs heavy between you, thickening the already charged air.

Is it more embarrassing that he knows what exact action lies behind your thoughts or that he’s calling you on it? He could have stayed silent and spared you of this uncomfortable notion that finally answers to his name and you could have tried not to speak any venom at him with your words. You’ve always found yourself unable to, alas, even when you told him you love him, it was meant to hurt him, more than it meant to take that weight off your chest. So why hold back now of all times?

“I meant what i said before. And I know that you meant that you loved me when you said it.”

Standing face to face with him is inevitable at this point. He’s not so keen on pushing his back against the wall anymore, seeing that you don’t turn to face him again, not even once, and he’s determined to face you. You look at him tired, by blinking into his eyes and you’re so thankful for the safety distance he puts in between the two of you.

For the first time tonight he’s looking at you apologetically and he even waits until you put out your cigarette to open his arms in front of your very eyes.

It’s a welcoming invite which you receive with disbelief, but he doesn’t ask if he can hug you. He just does. Two fucking seconds is all it takes until you’re burying yourself into him. The crook of his neck. That soft spot that emits his scent the strongest. It’s too tender against your nose. Perhaps he's tender too.

You’re melting; Whether it's sweat or a tear that you’ve tried so hard to contain in your lower eyelids, there's something about him that’s turning you into a puddle. Right here, right now. Perhaps, your soft spot for Kirishima is really so physical. That devil of a man moans into the crook of your neck and you know he’s smiling without having to witness it to make sure.

It’s refreshing in such a twisted way to know you can’t get away from each other.

An eternity later, when you pull back, with empty arms, he reaches for his pocket, sweetness emitting from the expression on his face. Thick fingers idle on a bent roll of a cigarette that's too big to just be filled with normal tobacco.

“Wanna smoke with me?” He asks and plops right next to you on the wall -his and yours original spot- to which you shrug in response. What’s the worst that could happen?

You had a drag or even two a little while ago, in the presence of Sero and there’s not enough alcohol in your system -you think- to make you spiral. Even if the blunt that Kirishima is holding is fatter than the ones you would normally smoke with a whole bunch of people, there’s really no harm in just a little. It'll help you unwind, just so you don't choke him with your bare hands at the cost of your heartbreaks.

Your lighter is used to light the blunt in between his lips and everything around you suddenly smells like sativa. Kirishima takes a long drag, his eyes slipping shut “Ahh, that’s the stuff” He says and moves his hand accordingly to pass it to you.

So generous. You could cry. For a moment, you forget how much you hate him. It’s in the way his lips curl around the blunt, casually unbothered, like he has all the time in the world to figure you out. “What?” he asks, tilting his head like he doesn’t already know the answer.

You glance at the lit end as he offers it to you. The unspoken invitation hangs in the humid summer air. You take a drag and pass it to him again, careful to let the smoke linger in your lungs as you count the seconds before you exhale.

Fingers touch and stay there. It’s enough to send a jolt through your already frayed nerves and you try not to ponder over the question on whether his hands are hot because of you or the hot summer weather. Closing your eyes for a second, you decide to open them in his direction just to find him already staring at you.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“You gonna let me smoke this whole thing by myself?”

The smoke burns going down, but the buzz hits almost instantly, and you let out a shaky breath. “I’m not doing this because of you.” You snatch it from him. He laughs, low and quiet, like he’s savoring some private joke you’ll never be in on.

“Sure you’re not.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. That idiot thinks he knows all about you, even the unspoken. That's so far from your own truth.

Everything around you is so muffled and peaceful. The party is an eon away and Kirishima doesn’t utter a word. Heaven. But it lasts so little, now that your thoughts are dizzy again, every minor word you could jab at him is woven and hidden under your tongue. Your heads are itching to get closer and closer.

You turn to look at him again but you can’t hold a laugh in. The situation is hilarious on its very own when you think about it. You’re hidden away with the only person you’re never supposed to acknowledge ever again and he’s laughing back at you for laughing in his face. You danced with him, tried to message him, you stared at each other too much, like you're both insane.

There's no normal, or humane way to approach anything that has to do with the two of you together and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed this.

The more smoke enters your lungs the more you feel like you're loosening up, stiff shoulders finally relaxed.

This new point of view is fun; foreheads almost clashing, crossed staring. You'll try to keep away from him as much as you can, but he breaks that uncomfortable silence that's otherwise only broken by the occasional sound of inhaling. It’s the way he leans his head back against the wall, exposing the line of his throat, the way his hair falls just right even when it’s sweaty and unkempt. You hate it. You hate him. He’s so unexpected.

The silence between you stretches again, heavy and loaded, but not suffocating this time. You let yourself look at him—really look at him-and for a moment, you see the Kirishima you used to know. The one who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I hate you,” you mutter, though there’s no venom in your voice. It’s a feeble attempt to guard yourself, to keep him at arm’s length.

He chuckles softly, and the sound is warm, familiar. “I know.”

You shake your head, your lips twitching into a reluctant smile despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “But you still haven’t walked away.” The sound of exhaling echoes before he speaks again “Why’d you unblock me?”

You freeze, the blunt paused halfway to your lips. It’s not like you hadn’t expected this question, but you thought you’d have more time to come up with an answer. “I don’t know,” you say. Big lie for a topic you don’t want to actually talk about.

Kirishima shifts, turning his body toward you just enough to make you squirm, his forehead still on yours even if the laughter has died “Bullshit.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. “Maybe I was bored. Maybe I wanted to see if you’d embarrass yourself trying to message me.”

He smirks, but it’s softer than usual, like he’s trying not to scare you off. “And? Did I?”

You roll your eyes. “You were predictable.”

“To think I almost didn't come because I didn't want to see you.” In any other instance this phrase would hurt like a bitch. “Bakugo said I shouldn't act like a dick tonight.”

You're not sure if he's referring to you or the party, but you choose to test him, pretending to be oblivious to his advance.

“Mina won't forgive you if you're a shitty friend to her again”

“Mm I know” He giggles “never meant to be like that”

You don't reply out of nothing but embarrassment. It was you who would kept in contact with Kirishima when Mina had a fight with him, and you acted like a fool, telling her everything about him when he messed up. Something she just didn't do for you when she was friends with him and the two of you were a casual thing.

Hell, you didn't even know they were this close again before she announced that he'll be at the party.

Perhaps right now you don't find it in you to give a damn about their friendship. Whenever she's in the middle of you there's only disaster. You'd rather only count on yourself to ruin things with him.

“I just… I don't care. Treat Mina however she allows you to.” This would usually make him bite, just enough so you could feel sharp canines, but now that he's intoxicated he just smiles softly. How long has it been since you've seen that expression on him?

“Damn you're so harsh again”

Closed eyes, smile from one ear to another; you have to show him and his stupidly beautiful face that you're not the person he once knew. Your forehead sticks to his with a muffled sound. “Then what'll you do to make me soft?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Suddenly you come to realize, that getting Kirishima back is the easiest thing in the universe. Which just isn't a very good sign, at all.

Α curious hand travels to your cheek, pushing back a loose strand of hair away from your face and you convince yourself you wouldn’t have accepted this touch if it wasn’t for another reason -no- but he cups the left side of your face so smoothly, your faces still stuck together, that the world is reduced to this hidden part of Sero’s backyard. To just the two of you.

He’s so not good for you, damaged goods, been with other people that aren't you, you tell yourself in a last frail attempt to pull away, yet your body does not comply with any negative comment about him your mind has to offer to restrain you.

He chuckles for another time and it’s downright annoying how much you want him “I think i'm getting the munchies”

You’re sold on every single word.

______

Under any other circumstance you’d avoid anything edible in Sero’s fridge given the fact that he owns a snake as a pet. There’s a plateau filled with canapes, there’s soda and there’s beer neatly placed in the vegetable drawer and that’s about all you can see from behind Kirishima’s back. He’s searching frantically for something while you hate how loud the music sounds now, your stomach growls much like his and he obviously hears it. It’s so loud even that he gives one of his searching hands a break and extends it to you, to pull you next to him. Tucked underneath his bicep you’re now met with the heavenly chill of the fridge.

You look up at him while he roams through the fridge, tongue out and lips pressed into a line. This isn’t a hidden place anymore; anyone can walk in and see you hugging. Yet and ever so fortunately your friends seem to have forgotten about the menace of the two of you being together apparently.

Kirishima pulls back from the fridge and closes it, taking the needed chilly air away with the stainless steel door. There’s victory in his hands. An unopened pack of prosciutto and a squeeze bottle of honey. Seeing that you don’t really get a chance to wiggle yourself from his arm, he swings you so that your back is facing the cabinets, your ass hitting the wooden countertop as your dress hitches slightly upwards.

Big breath in. Slow exhale. His naked knee is in contact with your thigh.

He struggles with the packaging for a second but it doesn’t put up a long fight. With a stomach so viciously hungry his hands win for the second time this evening. With every movement you’re pressed further onto the countertop, but still not on it yet.

A small bite of prosciutto goes onto the tip of his finger and he finally sets his eyes on you. “Mouth” he orders and you open almost instinctively, taking the finger into your mouth. You whine at how salty it is but he’s got the solution for you, trapped in that golden squeeze bottle.

When he has his own share of the delicatessen he drops just a golden bit on the same finger and puts it in your mouth. Finally past your surprised lips, you suckle the honey, gaze fixated on him while his thumb brushes against your upper lip.

So long lip combo. You will not be missed.

“Great idea” You tell him ever so content. Everything is so balanced in your little bubble right now. Even the way he sucks the same finger into his mouth.

One more round of prosciutto means one more round of honey and you almost wonder if he came up with this on the spot, or if he’s ever done this before. You’ve never seen him with such menace in his red eyes. He’s just so evil.

Even more so, when he squeezes more honey on his finger and smears it against your lips. For a sinister moment everything goes completely silent and static. Your tongue dances on the tip of his finger as he pushes it further and further into your mouth, stroking your chin and your cheek when his hand moves in a circular motion.

“Fuck” He hisses, licking his lips and pulling his finger way from your mouth. The popping sound it makes is enough to get him riled up just enough, so that he grabs your face with his hands. He takes the smallest leap towards you, given the fact that you’re not that far away from each other, smacking his lips on yours.

With a heart that’s heavy as a rainy cloud, you moan at how rough his are. There’s nothing but neediness in his movements, from how he bites your lower lip between his teeth to how his hands just won’t let the sides of your face. You couldn’t even get yourself out of this situation with a written petition.

And when he feels and tastes like everything you remember, you can’t find it in you to kiss him back with the same burning fever. You want to be mean.

You push him away, whispering “Kirishima. Don’t kiss me” but your own hands are on his face too.

“Eijiro” He corrects you, like he hasn’t heard the second part of your words. “Now's not the time for my last name” His thumbs stroke your cheeks, so gentle it makes your chest ache. You hate how good his touch feels, how much you want to lean into it even as you tell yourself you shouldn’t.

He simply doesn't understand your inner turbulence.

“Don’t call me by my last name when I’m about to fuck you”

You’d hate to call him that; Kirishima is nothing but himself and he’s definitely not ‘your Eijiro’ even if you might as well have always been his. There’s just no way of showing him how much you want him while you absolutely hate him. Tonight was never meant to end up like this. you weren't supposed to land on Sero’s kitchen counter, trapped by him, kissing him. You were supposed to be having fun.

So long is the distance between fun and the notion of you doubting everything that’s happening to you at the moment. So short is the route in your brain that combines Kirishima’s behavior that is lust driven to the one you assume is him getting what he wants and chewing you and spitting you out for anyone to have his leftovers.

You count on him to put the invisible block between these two thoughts, to put an end at your turbulence. In the way his nose nuzzles to yours, in the warmth of his body against your own.

The tension is thick in the air between the two of you, and for a moment, his hands linger on your face like he’s memorizing the shape of it. His red eyes are half-lidded, drunk on the moment or the haze of the evening-or maybe just on you.

“Don’t kiss me,” you repeat, but this time it’s weaker, softer, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t push forward, but he doesn’t let go either. His thumbs brush over your cheeks, so gentle it’s maddening. Your own lips are barely brushing his and despite what's coming out of your mouth you almost kiss him yourself.

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs, voice low and raspy. “But you’re not pulling away.”

Your hands are still on his face, and it’s infuriating how good his skin feels under your palms. Warm, alive, familiar in a way that makes you want to scream.

There's so much nuisance in your bloodstream that you kiss him, ignoring whether he can respond or not. It’s not gentle, not sweet—just messy, desperate, and filled with all the things you can’t bring yourself to say. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and the world narrows until it’s just him. Just you.

There’s no logic anymore, no reason, just the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the roughness of his hands as they grip your thighs and push the hem of your dress higher.

Its decided then, by both of you, when your nails scrape against the nape of his neck desperately, that it's no use in denying each other. The feeling that use to dying both of you to pull away is faint now, reduced to something that resembles burnt out charcoal, ashes of a hateful fire.

It's a whirlpool of emotions that's pulling you both in after that. It was a mistake to ever think it'd be okay you smoke with him or let him feed you, because your hands move on their own accord, pulling him as close to you as possible, chest heaving and eyes so heavy with teardrops that never dare fall. Your hands grip on everywhere and anywhere on his neck, face and hair that you can land them on.

Every breath you take through your nose is hitched, like the sniffle of a crying session, but you refuse to part with lips that move in sync with agony. You forgot how good his lips feel on yours, you'll forget once again. Soon enough.

For now, you block the angst of him and you away and instead, you feel dizzy like you're drowning. In an ocean so vast and dark that it's impossible to try and reach the surface for air.

There's no word spoken, no other sound, no warning when his hands hitch under the skirt of your dress, angry and desperate to finish what he started when the two of you were dancing all this while ago. The pads of his fingers examine the band of your panties, as if they can tell the color just through that and for a second he stops kissing you, to hiss, breathe and whimper at how soft your skin feels against him.

You run your fingers through his hair. A disheveled ponytail that finally comes to ruins is the outcome and his revenge is pulling your hips towards him, fingers laced between your panties, barely touching the skin of your ass.

This time, you hiss.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You should. You know you should. This is dangerous, reckless, teetering on the edge of something you can’t take back. But instead of pulling away, you find yourself leaning in, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I’m not stopping you” you admit, your voice soft and uneven.

You kiss him.

That’s all the encouragement he honestly needs.

He pulls away from your lips with a smacking sound that's louder than the actual music and he tries, he tries to link his forehead against yours when smoking hot hands press against your tummy, just so his thumb can rub a painfully firm swipe across your throbbing clit and you don't let him have this moment in silence.

You squirm at how delicious his touch is, and you're embarrassed that you feel this way about him still. Since it's just this time, you'll manage.

You buck your hips into his thumb and squirm, your knees shaking like you’ve been hit by thunder. Embarrassment surges through you.

“Don't look at me” You whisper and throw your legs off the counter to stand on your feet.

A hand on your waist and a furrowed brow is all that you get in response. After that, you're spun around the counter, released of any control in your own movements. Your right knee is thrown onto the counter, your neck is interlocked in his left hand, your back is stuck to his chest.

He's smarter than you are, sometimes.

You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, through tons of muscle. He's shaking, but you're not one to judge when you’re in the same position.

The fingers that held your knee against the counter top have already ordered your bones not to move and they're running up the side of your thigh. Grabby and needy as he is, he places a kiss at the crook of your neck when he feels the skin of your cheeks spill through his fingers.

The departure of his hand upsets you only in the seconds before he gives you a small slap.

You try to adjust yourself better against him so you don't feel your back hurting as you're stuck on him but it's no use, he applies pressure to your neck in response and hooks his pointer finger under your panties to pull them to the side. Your chest hitches a breath like he stole it from you.

He's steady with his ministrations, catching some of your slick with his thumb from your entrance and drags it across your slit, landing to your clit, just to rub a few slow circles there. His lips find your shoulder and even though the stubble he has as a goatee hurts when it's poking you, the kiss he plants on your skin is hot- too sensual.

He keeps rubbing circles against you, gradually introducing a few pinches to your clit when he traps it between his fingers.

You groan and you yelp; it's unprovoked when his ring finger enters you, too sudden as he keeps rubbing you with his middle one. He's moving freely, in courtesy of how long and thick his fingers are and you're all but at his mercy. A whimpering mess that refuses to plead with him to move faster, or show him any ministration on how to please you most.

He is aware of how to do exactly that.

He is aware of every single detail; from how fast he can make you cum, to how much time he needs to prep you for simply the size of him, and you'd be insane to stop him now. One, because you'll die from your own lust if he leaves you empty even for a second and two-

“Fuuuck, don't stop” You whine, only because your head isn't working anymore, your thoughts are gone as he pulls out his finger for only a second.

You don't see it, with your field of vision being a dark lit image of Sero's toaster on the counter you're on, but you listen to the sound of a finger getting sucked in Kirishima’s mouth. Albeit, you almost moan at the notion that he can't get enough of you.

He works a second finger inside of you, introduces it with a few circles around your entrance and the sound of a hiss falls from his lips when he does so. He scissors his movements and everything applies pressure to that spot inside of you that has your knees shaking.

That devious coil in your tummy is back, but now it's much lower, just under the spot where your skin is pressed on the edge of the counter. You're reduced to being a moaning mess of an orgasm that's building up, high off the feeling of Kirishima's fingers pistoning inside of you feverishly.

He bites his lips hard enough to draw blood at the mere sight; but the faster he works to prep you, the worse it gets for him. His cock is twitching so hard between his legs, tugging uncomfortable at how it's tucked inside his underwear and cargo shorts. Every little moan of yours when he lazily flicks at your clit with the top of his pointer finger, gets him impossibly harder, to the point he can't just ignore it anymore.

“What are you-” You almost turn around to eat his heart out when he pulls his fingers out of you, so he can work on his button, his zipper, on the waistband of his underwear. Begrudgingly, your eyes rush to his side and you're too cocky with the anger of a ruined orgasm.

Despite that, the sounds of his undressing, you respect. Until his palm grasps at the nape of your neck, to force your head to land next to the toaster again.

“You said you don't wanna look at me, didn't you?”

His cock springs free, just as big and thick as you remember and not a single whine of yours is enough to make him get him to come closer.

“I said,” You pant “I don't want you to look at me”

With one hand grabbing at his base, jerking himself slowly in a hammer motion, he lets the weight of him slap on your naked ass as he moves to completely bunch up your skirts around your waist. He ignores what you said as it's deemed impossible; there's no way in the whole world he will tear his eyes off of you right now. It's laced in his confession.

“Fuck, I'm missed this view, so, don’t care. Don't look at. Me.”

You whine as his palms kneed softly at the soft skin of your ass, through layers of your muscle, thumbs so firm they're almost digging in holes on the two spots they've landed so he can spread you open even further.

His cock moves like it has a brain of its own, leaving trails of precum against your ass and he thrusts his head across your slit a few and agonizingly slow times. You should speak up, tell him how much you love it, tell him you can just cum on the spot from just his cockchead rubbing against your clit like that but you don't want him to have that satisfaction. You don't need him to know he’s making you feel this good when he's barely done anything to you.He's cocky enough already, engrossed in his actions as his tip lines up exactly to your entrance.

He teases you with his tip again, like he’s gonna torture you until you beg—which you’re not gonna do. Though your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of him slapping his dick against your folds. He slides against you again, hips stuttering out with a simple, muffled, motion of a hold back and just like that, when he’s spent on the feeling of squeezing his base so he gets even harder he lines up with your soppy entrance.

He slips right in. No warning, no effort. Your pussy pulls him in.

A guttural moan escapes you, coming from the depths of your chest as he thrusts his head in. The pain of being split open hits you like a wave. It hurts, like every single time you reconcile with him. You always forget that the girth and length of him are too much to not take in gradually.

But he knows that too.

“Babe,” he whimpers “Can I move?”

You wince at the desperation in his voice, the use of the nickname paired with it, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. ‘Babe’ how can such a simple word make your stomach twist into a knot?

“Please-” It's nothing but a whisper, but it comes out of your mouth without much thought. It's needy and silent and full of guilt.

“Oh fuck I like the sound of that. Say it again”

You hesitate for a moment, hips bucking towards him to take a little more in but he pushes your head down again.

“Please Eijiro”

“Please what,” He pressures “say it”

“What? No!”

“Then I could just pull out”

The sound of your mumbling is almost choked by his palm on your cheek, he's not letting go- he's not hurting you either- the pressure is just enough to get his point across because, frankly, the stuttering of his hips doesn't match his words. Had you not been pressed on the counter, you would have bucked away from him to teach him not to play boss with you. For now, you just whine as he pulls completely out of you.

“Eijiro- fuck, please”

“Fuck what?”

“Shit. Fuuuuck”

Eijiro presses his hand on your waist and pins you down, getting a hold of your hair in his hands—fuck, fuck, fuck, the word’s a mantra right now. Fuck it’s so hot, you’ve never even thought you could get this wet over a few motions.

He growls when he yanks your head just a little upwards and your walls pulsate around nothing.

“Want me to turn you over and fuck your mouth? Huh?”

“N-no” you shake your head.

“Then speak”

You take a mental note; you’re going to chew his head off for this later on. When did Eijiro even learn how to dirty talk like that?

“Me! Fuck me, dammit” You hiss, cheeks are once again trapped between his palm and the cold counter.

He places another kiss on your shoulder at that, giving your ass an encouraging slap as he chuckles. “There you go”

You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance once again, and despite yourself, you whimper. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as he begins to push inside of you, inch by slow inch. The burn of pain mixed with the heat of desire, making it almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. You grit your teeth against the sensation, trying to ignore the way his cock stretches you open.

You’re so full if him that you could explode.

His voice is so low in his throat, so needy when he says "That's it, baby.”

Then be, once more again before he starts going at a steady pace, bucks his hips time after time, ever so slowly. Had you not been unadjusted to the shape of his cock by now you'd be screaming at him to go faster, but for now, this tortuous pace is as helpful as it's driving you insane.

It's just the beginning, but the weight in your chest and your heart are starting to be felt.

“Eiji” You say, eyes closing as you try to hold on to the counter top to no avail. He moans in response, rubbing his palm along the length of the leg that you've bunched up on the surface.

You've no mind to consider the soreness you'll be feeling tomorrow, really.

He tries to hook his other hand on your steady knee and you yelp, scared that you're going to fall, that your strength isn't enough to hold your weight in the strange position that you're in right now.

“Let go of your leg” He pants giving the back of your thigh a few encouraging slaps “give it to me”

You slowly let go of your leg, exhaling shakily in fear of not feeling the ground under your foot anymore. Eijiro takes this as an invitation, his grip on your hips tightening as he helps you wrap your leg awkwardly around him just so he thrusts deeper into you. The sensation is almost overwhelming, too mouthwatering; you can't help but want to arch your back in response, despite being almost unable to.

Hick dick kisses your cervix with every movement, every roll of his hips.

Your breath, despite having been knocked out of your chest, with each of his thrusts, is loud, always conveyed into a moan or a yelp and that’s about all the encouragement Kirishima needs for his thrusts to source more force, more speed.

His hips slam against yours in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You cry out in that delicious mixture that’s pleasure and the pain of him splitting you open, your body arching to meet his.

You are evil, sinister, malevolent for both you and him when you plead “Go faster”

He pants, half sober, half drunk as he digs his fingernails into your love handles and bottoms out again. Eijiro's thrusts quicken, his body shaking with the effort to keep up the pace. You can feel his cock pulsing inside you, head hitting every wall inside you as he drives deeper. Your breath comes in short gasps, and your body feels like it's on fire. This is new territory for both of you.

You've never had sex raw before, not even at the start of any session. So every time you squeeze around him, you can feel his veins and he can feel you get wet—wetter. It’s so sloppy, so messy, like it should have been happening all the time, like you two are made just for this.

Both of you whimper. Whether it’s the angle, the pace or the way he slips his hand, ever so subtly to rub lazy circles on your puffy clit, you absolutely cannot control your noises just as much as you cannot find it in you to care about whether you’re louder than the actual music on the party that's happening above.

You try and buck your hips towards him some more, yielding a moaned out version of his name in the process. Everything is just too much and you’ve never been this desperate to cum.

“Fuck babe, you feel so good” Kirishima hisses and your legs tremble

“Yo-you too”

“‘Pussy feels s’good, fffuck yeah work those hips for me”

You stretch your hand, in an effort to try to reach him, touch him. Anything to ground yourself to stop the shaking in your legs, but you ultimately cry out in disdain when he grabs your wrist to stop you, pining it on the small of your back. He holds it there for a moment, when his thrusts become slower, rougher, just enough to elicit louder moans from you before he finally lets go, running his hot palm on your back.

“Making me want to fuck you raw forever”

“Ei-”

The only response you get is a whimper. Half lid eyes that look at your back with so much lust that it should be considered a sin.

You wish you could see his face, to land your eyes on that whiny expression that adorns his face when he’s inside you, but his hand is quick, too hot on the skin of the ape of your neck; he grabs your hair, lifts your head in the process.

“Take it” He whispers and you realize you haven't, in your dizzy state, even sensed him leaning on you to bite on your shoulder. The action alone makes you wince but Eijiro, ever so tender, immediately suckles the spot between his lips, hoping to soothe you, but your legs start shaking even more. “I'll give it to you slow then? ‘kay?”

“Ei” You’re so spent, so unable to call out anything other than his name, gooey walls clenching around him as his thrusts slow down even more.

You’re so impossibly wet and tight, fluttering and squeezing and tightening around him. Mere seconds away from letting the beast that's gnawing inside you burst into existence. Like a flaming hot explosion. “'M gonna come” You manage to whisper and your stomach twists in an impossible way when Kirishima replies

“Can you wait for me baby, I want us to— fuck— come together”

And as much as you love the sound of that being whispered in your ear, you're not sure you can obey him. He feels that too, suddenly starting to quicken his thrusts while letting go of your hair, pushing it off your face. It's only now that he's so desperately chasing his own release, as you’re clamping impossibly around him, hips working faster than ever.

“Can I cum in you? Fill you up?” The sound of skin clapping and your squelching with each buck of Kirishima's hips filling the kitchen. Hes’s frantic when you’re deprived of a reply, circling your clit, slapping it, gathering all of your mixed juices and rubbing at you again.

You yell out his name again like a mantra, your orgasm starting to blur out your vision as the top of his cock kisses all the right spots inside you.

“Please say yes”

You moan.

“Say yes, wanna fill your pussy up.”

You moan again.

It feels so good— his hand on the small of your back, his scent, the notion that this is the worst thing that could happen tonight it all adds up to you finally coming to release all that's pent up tonight.

—Clank!

From the corner of the kitchen, you hear a loud, unmistakable clatter, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. Both yours and Kirishima's heads snap to the direction, his name being cut short from falling from your mouth as terror washes through both of you.

White.

Hot.

A voice, too familiar, yells out in a burst of laughter and shock.

“No fucking way!” Sero’s voice rings out, too high-pitched, way too obvious. “what the fuuuuuuck”

Kirishima locks eyes with him first, taking the first pinch of realisation in his gut, hands doing nothing of sort to shield any of you. There's no initial reaction that can be performed. He's just as deep in mud over this as you are.

“Dude!” Sero paces his eyes between you and Kirishima as if to point out the profanity. Helaughs again, holding his stomach, never prying his gaze from the scenery in front of him “you guys are impossible. Get a room ‘cuz I want some more beer.”

Your eyes land on him, turn just in time to see his figure disappearing around the corner

heading straight to the direction he just came from, and you whine— both for your ruined orgasm, more so for the fact that you've been caught.

The wave of shame that should be washing over you is nowhere to be seen or felt.

“No.” You don’t even realize you’ve said it until the words slip past your lips, but the panic that flares in your chest feels real. “No, no, no—he’s not— He's gonna tell— fuck!”

Kirishima swears under his breath, a hand running through his messy hair as he looks at you, his face caught between guilt and desperate frustration. “Shit—”

The two of you stand there, his cock still inside you, despite it starting to go limp, your leg still bunched around his back. Both of you too unsure of what to think, or do, in such situation.

Seeing that the moment is ruined, that none of you have had enough self control to stop earlier or restrain yourselves, you lower your lifted leg to the ground.

Kirishima takes the hint immediately. Patting your ass with both his palms for just a little leverage— like he needs it anyway and actually pushes out of you with a loud pop. He tucks his cock in his pants and zips them up in fast movements and actually makes an effort to make you look somewhat presentable too.

Panties drawn to their initial position, even if they feel ruined and wet behind salvation, and dress smoothed nicely over your ass before he signs you to lift your head up. He guides you still, hand on your head, so you don't manage to land a hit at the cabinets over your head.

For the first time in a while, you look at him again. He’s disheveled; red hair tousled and messy, lips burning a red as fiery as his eyes. There's a tiny remembrance of his quirk on the left side of his eyebrow.

In an unfair and very beyond and out of character reaction for you, you reach to smooth it over with the tips of your fingers, pushing the red strands of hair away from the spot. He mumbles something that's beyond the realm of speech and you don't make an effort to understand as your hand slips to the side of his face, cupping his sharp jawline.

You don't speak just yet, whether it's out of panic or because you're really not in a mental position to take in what just happened. Thus, you too, don't say a word when he brings both hands to your face. One to mimic your own hold, the other, to wipe some of the sticky residue of honey and some drool that has gathered in the corner of your lips.

When your legs wobble on top of the heels that you just remembered you're wearing, the warmth of his hands on your face travels to your waist. It's only then that he talks.

“Easy there, babe”

You let out a laugh “You did this to me, by the way”

“Well, I don't think I can hold myself when I'm around you. That's why I've been avoiding it.”

And that's exactly when it hits you. The party, Mina, every memoir of your past with him. You hate to be fucked silly to the point of no thought by him, never have an orgasm in his presence and then live in regret. You have to put an end to this. Mina was right. No one's gonna pick up your pieces ever again.

You're looking dazzled, confused and out of your mind. The room starts to blur.

You’re so out of words, it’s painful.

The tension hangs in the air as Kirishima grabs your hand, his grip firm but careful, and whispers hurriedly, “This way.”

He leads you out of the kitchen, his eyes darting around the room like a predator looking for an escape route. You barely have time to register the shift in pace before he’s guiding you down the hall.

Your heart races—not just from the rush of adrenaline, but from the lingering haze of your interrupted moment. You’re still reeling from the intensity of it, your mind a chaotic blur of heat, panic, and something dangerously close to longing. Your hand, clasped inside his burns, like the very core of your being.

“Where are we going?” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is following.

“Bathroom,” he mutters under his breath, his jaw tight. “We need a second of privacy”

Before you can protest, he’s already nudging open a door, ushering you inside with a quick glance down the hallway. The bathroom is as small and dimly lit as it was a while ago and the hum of the party muffles the moment the door clicks shut behind you.

The lock makes a noise of pure solace; Eijiro twists the key hurriedly but doesn’t pull it out of the lock. He opts to rush to you, even if you’re just a few literal feet away from him.

Your poor heart is thudding. You’ve been cataclysmed with emotions of all kinds. The betrayal to your friends, to yourself even, the guilt of how a part of you feels joy, the panic of experiencing being found out. The embarrassment. Tears well in your eyes like silky beads. Head in your hands, you land on the semi wall of the bathtub and sit down.

Eijiro follows, much dizzy and still high like you, and plops on the marble right next to you.

He turns his head in your direction despite knowing full well you’re trying not to let the faucet in your eyes flood your face, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand there and watch you like this. He only does what he knows better.

Huge arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you close. Part of you wants to beg him to let go, too afraid of what happens each time you’re in this position with him and your heartstrings are being pulled— despite your sniffles and in between your thoughts and your guilt you can’t find any strength to push him away.

You melt into his chest, the very second his palm presses your head against him.

“Shhh” the redhead finally speaks “Sero’s going to forget this in seconds, even faster”

First and foremost and most foul of all, Eijiro thinks you’re only crying because you’ve been caught. That’s as much as you gather from his demeanor.

“No, I-” Another wave of tears hits you before you get a chance to respond.

“Please tell me how can I help”

You loathe the fact that he sounds so willing. It’s the twist of the knife to your wound, why is he only willing when something’s in for…

“…you?”

Oh, oh no! You spoke that aloud. Cursing under your breath you decide you would rather swallow your tongue and die forever. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still high, but had you realised sooner you wouldn’t have spoken this. It’s prone to cause turbulence.

“What? You really believe that?”

There. There he is looking as confused as ever and he’s peeling you away from his chest just to lock eyes with you.

“I just…” he pauses “I don’t know how to act, I’m sorry”

It’s… excruciating that he apologises over something he knows can’t be helped. Even when not intended to excuse him you just know he’s a person that reeks of insecurities, inner turmoil be damned and all, but so are you. Apologising for himself does absolutely nothing to you— he probably knows so as well.

But you breathe in his scent and his apology stops being one of manipulation. The man before you is nothing but himself. With roots such a deep shade of brown that just isn’t black, lashes that are full but not too long… he lacks in things that he’s so full of; Maybe if you had been more kind and understanding you and him would have worked. You wouldn’t have to cry in his arms after a catastrophic night. You wouldn’t get carried away by each other, rather, you’d get carried away together.

You don’t answer to him, but tears well in your eyes and they’re for him. So you cling onto his shirt and avert your eyes, not being able to bear another glance at him.

A few, new sobs in and he manhandles you onto him. You never protest —His lap is more comfortable than the marble, much warmer too. And you don’t need to be cool anymore.

“Baby” he whines and a hand is wrapped around your head, engulfing you in that huge bicep of his. His fingers linger on your face again but this time he holds you; one thumb brushes lightly against your wet cheek and the other wipes the teardrops that run down one of your eyes “Did I— Am I making you cry?”

You nod.

In response he kisses your forehead. A secret part of you wishes he’d never done that despite the fact that you find solace in the comfort.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made you cry a lot, haven’t I?”

You nod again.

This time he doesn’t continue on with words. He kisses your forehead again, then your wet cheeks, your nose, your eyes lids and your chin. You’re so lost in the moment, dizzy still. You lean into him, edging closer and closer to his face. Your body moves on its own against your better judgement.

“It’s not fair” you say as your lips hover right under his.

“I know”

Thus, this time, when you kiss, it’s not needy or desperate; it’s comforting. Your lips move in sync against each other and its numbing; his mouth feels just perfect against yours. He pecks your lower lip and you suck on his softly.

Of course, you know that he knows. But neither of you pull away.

Kirishima's hands tremble slightly where they rest on your waist, like he's unsure if he should pull you closer or let you go before it’s too late. The way his lips move against yours—slow, deliberate, reverent—makes your stomach twist. This isn't rushed or reckless like before. It isn't an act of desperation or lust. It's something else. Something worse.

It’s a plea. A question. A confession.

And the moment you realize that, you break the kiss.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as you stare at him, his forehead still resting against yours. His eyes—soft, carmine and burning all at once—search yours, waiting for an answer you don’t have.

His fingers flex against your hips, but he nods. “I know….” He pauses “I never got to tell you that I love you too”

Even if this confession is the end for him, he doesn’t let go. Neither do you.

You sit there, tangled together in the dim light of the bathroom, the party outside a distant echo compared to the roaring silence between you. His chest rises and falls beneath your hands, warm and steady, and for a fleeting second, you let yourself imagine a world where this could be simple. Where you could have him without all the chaos, the guilt, the inevitable heartbreak.

Αll you’ve ever wanted was for this to be your world.

“Then why do you punish me for it?”

Reality settles between you like an unspoken truth, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe, hard to think—hard to do anything but exist in this moment that shouldn’t have happened.

You’re nothing but truthful and honest. He’s punishing you because he loves you but you’re just no better —you’ve been doing nothing but the same.

Kirishima’s grip tightens just slightly, like he’s afraid that if he loosens it even a little, you’ll slip away completely. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you will. Maybe you don’t love him anymore and you have every right to. After everything he’s pulled, why on earth would you reciprocate his feelings?

Just take his heart and tip in two already. It’s either that or it’s just going to burst.

Your fingers twitch where they rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath them. It’s fast. Just as fast as yours.

You force yourself to pull back, just enough to see his face fully, to take in the way his brows pinch together in something like frustration. Or sadness. Or both.

You don’t trust yourself to speak. If you do, you’re not sure what will come out—anger, regret, longing. Maybe all three. Your words hurt more than a villain's attack.

But he speaks first.

“I don’t wanna let go,” he admits, voice low, barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

The confession cracks something inside you.

You inhale sharply, closing your eyes for a moment before forcing yourself to move. You reach for his hands, prying them gently from your waist despite the way your entire body protests. He lets you, but his fingers linger, brushing against yours until you finally pull away completely.

The warmth of him is gone too soon, and you hate how cold you feel without it.

“Eijiro…” His name feels heavy on your tongue, like it’s not meant to be spoken in this way, not meant to carry this weight.

He shakes his head before you can say anything else. “I know” he repeats, but this time it sounds different. Defeated. And some stinky, dreadful part of you hates to see him this way.

You must be out of your head tonight—in a different dimension, this is another you from another reality.

Kirishima is as surprised as you are, really. But your lips are on him when his eyes envisioned you leaving him cold, completely.

After that, it’s clothes being thrown into bathroom tiles and the heavy sounds of kissing. It’s different from the one in the kitchen; there’s no fight for dominance, no physical rattling in battle. It’s just him and you, in the most uncomfortable spot in the world, naked, working together to walk on that tight rope that the love of you is.

This is the first time you’re making love. In sero’s bathroom. At Mina’s party.

And you could die from how delicious it all feels.

It’s either that fact or something very guttural that’s gotten you feeling this way because the more Eijiro rams into you, the more you tighten around him.

Soft, gummy walls flutter around him, drenched in desire. It’s like you’re moulding the shape of him, every vein, every slope, every inch of him is moulded into you. And at the ache you whine your hips up and down, desperately, like you’re picking up where you left it off in the kitchen.

You’re finally aware that it’s summer again, when you realise your sweat is hot against your skin.

Kirishima holds you like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real. That this is really happening. His hands wrap around you completely, like he’s got you in a headlock and you’re chest to chest.

You can feel his heartbeat once again, against the skin of your chest and it feels so animalistically intimate. Everything burns and you could just die. You could die like this, right here and right now!

The way your clit rubs on his navel eagerly, makes your whole body numb and in need of release. You set on screaming— his name becomes a mantra for every second passing.

Both of your hips work slow, in sync and he curses against the nape of your neck. You never make out what he says as you’re so drunk on him the second he starts placing open mouth kisses all over your neck.

You hiss in pleasure and your body jolts back—it causes Kirishima to twitch and tighten his grip around you, even now that your chest has departed from his. He looks at you like you’re a prey again; it’s one, two, three kisses on your neck before he travels lower, trapping the skin of your chest between his lips and teeth.

For better leverage, one of his hands grabs on your ass and guides you on your previously steady pace on him. You’re reduced to moaning, like a pornstar on set, when he hits it from this angle. His tip kisses the right spot inside you, repeatedly with an agonising pace and when you turn to look at him he’s kissing down your breast- right above your nipple.

The moment you lock eyes, he takes the hardened bud into his mouth and sucks. You can’t even rip your eyes away from him and oh my god you’ve never had your eyes open during sex like this. Not being able to shake the embarrassment of the action, you wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes still following your every movement, you plant a kiss to the top of his head.

The hand on your back turns as soft as good. And you hold, hold onto his neck like he’s any steady at all. Like the distance between you that closed the second you parted.

It’s all too much and not enough at all— his kisses on your neck and chest, the aching up and down and the sound of skin clapping. A coil forms at the lowest, deepest part of your stomach and you set on chasing it.

In a dazed state, you grab at Eijiro’s hair, right at the nape of his neck, just so he looks up at you and right when he does you kiss him, full force.

The movement makes both of you tilt to the back, but his dick slams inside you in such tremorous manner that you yelp into Eijiro’s mouth.

He moans too, feverishly, but moves his lips on yours. You dare to be the first to pull away, to lock his forehead with yours before you lean in for another kiss.

Again you depart with a smacking sound.

And then you kiss him again.

Through heavy breaths, you fail to acknowledge how long the two of you spend kissing like that, but your eyes wet again at the feeling of him.

He kisses your tears, like he’s trying to make them disappear, like if he presses his lips to your skin enough times, he can rewrite the stinging pain woven into this moment.

You feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s trying to brand the feeling of you into his memory. And maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

Because no matter how much you try to pretend, no matter how much you tell yourself this is wrong, that this can’t be anything more than what it is—it doesn’t stop you from wanting it to be.

The tension in your stomach coils tighter, electric and overwhelming, your body moving on instinct, chasing the high you’ve been denied one too many times tonight. Every thrust, every kiss, every desperate gasp that falls from Kirishima’s lips sends you spiraling deeper into something neither of you can name.

You whisper his name, not as a warning or a plea, but as a confession to match his.

And he hears it.

Because his arms wrap around you tighter, because his forehead presses to yours like he’s holding onto you for dear life, because his breath hitches when he murmurs back, “I got you, baby.”

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

“I love it when you cry for -huh- me” he says between jagged breaths, while he kisses the tears that are running down your cheeks— why is he getting unbelievably hard at them?

It feels like he’s kissing away every mess that you’ve both made, like he loves seeing you this broken for him and vulnerable.

Your body tenses, nails digging into his shoulders as you come undone around him, a shuddering, whimpering mess in his arms. And when he follows, burying himself deep inside you with a groan that sends shivers down your spine, you swear you feel something break.

Not your heart—not yet.

But something close.

You’re only ever aware of the digging of your nails on his soft skin, like you’re aiming to draw blood as that white hot pleasure bundles in you again.

It’s a few more thrusts too long when you come, a few more that are absolutely pushing it before Eijiro comes too.

He comes inside you; hot, spurting cun paitining your insides and slipping down any gap that’s between him and you —impossible— and overflows with gravity, right onto his lap.

He twitches inside you. Once. Twice.

Your breath is knocked out of you relentlessly as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, slowly.

You flutter around him, sore and even more right from the overstimulation. Eijiro plants a few more kisses to your numb jaw before he attacks both your lips with a smack. He hopes to soothe you, let you know that you can breathe now, that he can breathe, but instead you hyperventilate. His mouth has engulfed yours wholly.

You’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, no next time and your hands run around each other’s body, roaming, grabbing, digging in skin until your skin is itchy and irritated. He bites your lower lip so hard that you think he’s trying to draw blood. And in response you try to part away from him.

Your mouth is still linked to his teeth but when it slips away it remains that way, through a string of saliva— he falls apart on you shortly after, pulls you impossibly closer to him.

Eijiro’s breathing is heavy against your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in a way that feels more dangerous than comforting. His arms are still wrapped around you, holding you like he doesn’t want to let go, like maybe if he keeps you here long enough, the rest of the world won’t come crashing in.

Slowly, reality starts to settle around you like an unwelcome guest. The muffled bass from the party outside, the distant chatter, the fact that anyone could be looking for either of you right now—Mina, Sero, anyone.

You swallow hard and finally, finally, force yourself to pull back just enough to look at him.

His face is flushed, red eyes lidded, hair a mess from where your fingers had been tangled in it. He looks beautiful in a way that makes your stomach twist, makes your chest ache with something dangerously close to regret.

But when you move, he follows.

His hands slide down your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. Like he knows you will.

“Eiji” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes snap to yours, something raw and unreadable flickering in them. He knows what you’re about to say.

“I wanna go home. I want you to come with me.”

“I know,” he says first, just like before. “Wanna hold you in my arms tonight”

But this time, it’s not enough.

Because knowing doesn’t make this any easier. It doesn’t change the fact that this—whatever this is—is bound to hurt you both in the end.

You take a shaky breath and move to get off his lap, but his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s debating stopping you.

Like he wants to.

“Don’t fucking lie to me”

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets you go, lets you shift off of him even though it feels like something inside him is breaking as you do. And maybe something inside you is breaking too.

The silence is thick, suffocating, as you fix yourself—pulling your dress down your body, smoothing over the fabric even though it feels wrong now. You just want to be naked in his presence.

Kirishima tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t stand up.

He watches you. Just watches.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What could you even say? That this was a mistake? That it wasn’t? That it didn’t mean anything, or worse—that it did?

Kirishima exhales through his nose and rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking.

“I really want to. I don’t want to sleep alo— I wanna hold you.” His voice is rough, hoarse from all the things he isn’t saying. He’s chewing the words like anything could be taken wrongly “Say yes, just for tonight. Babe, you can hate me all you want tomorrow”

You nod, because that’s all you can do. You don’t want to hate him tomorrow.

“Kay then, imma drive, I think I’m good. You okay with that?”

You nod again.

Kirishima lingers for a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to take it back—to say you’ve changed your mind, that this is stupid, reckless, wrong. But you don’t.

When he finally moves, pushing himself up from the bathtub’s edge, you follow.

The party outside is still alive, voices rising and falling over the heavy bass of the music, laughter spilling through the cracks beneath the door. It feels too loud, too real compared to the quiet that had settled between you both.

Kirishima hesitates before unlocking the door, turning to look at you one last time, searching your face for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even regret. But whatever he finds, it’s enough.

You just want to grope on him again, kiss him, squish his face with yours.

He opens the door, and the world comes rushing back in.

No one is standing outside waiting for you, no god of fury Mina, no traitorous Sero, no one watching with knowing eyes. But the paranoia still lingers in your chest, coiled tight as Kirishima takes your hand again, intertwining your fingers like it’s second nature.

When you step outside, the hot air hits you hard. You inhale deeply, trying to shake the tension that’s clinging to your skin.

Kirishima’s truck is parked a little way down the street, away from the cluster of other cars. His grip on your hand is steady as he walks you there, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin absentmindedly. It makes your chest tighten.

Once you’re at the passenger door, he lets go just long enough to open it for you, waiting until you climb inside before shutting it gently. You shoot him a glance that falls apart in seconds. You don’t need him to open the door for you, but the fact that he did because he wanted to.

Perhaps he cares for you as you care for him.

The driver’s seat creaks when he settles in, and for a second, neither of you speak. The air feels different now, heavy with something unspoken.

“You remember where my house is?” You ask, voice barely anything but a whisper.

“Yeah” Kirishima exhales slowly, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead even though he hasn’t started driving yet.

You steal a glance at him, at the way his brows furrow just slightly, at the way his chest rises and falls in measured breaths. He’s thinking. Hard. And so are you.

The weight of what just happened—what’s still happening—sits between you like a living, breathing thing. It presses into your ribs, wraps around your throat, makes it impossible to speak.

But the silence that follows once again is unbearable.

So you say the only thing that comes to mind.

“Kiri.”

His grip on the wheel tightens for a second before he forces himself to relax. He finally turns his head, meeting your eyes with something unreadable. “Yeah?”

You don’t even know what you want to say. Do you ask him if this is a mistake? If it means anything? If it means too much?

Instead, all that comes -ever so raggedy- out is, “Drive.”

He nods once, turning the key in the ignition. The truck rumbles to life, headlights cutting through the darkness as he pulls onto the road.

Soon, the city stretches out before you, neon lights casting strange reflections on the windshield. The hum of the engine fills the space between you, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts racing through your mind.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. You’re not sure. Wasn’t your house a 20 minute drive from Sero’s?

You’re not sure, not quite sure until you arrive, when the lack of Eijiro’s hand on your thigh is unbearable.

The moment he locks his car, both of you move in a rush.

Practically running up the stairs to your apartment, tripping over each other in a frantic, heated blur. Lips, tongues, hands pulling, pressing, taking.

You barely make it to the shower before you’re both tangled up in each other again.

The second the door swings shut behind you, Kirishima’s hands are on you again—steady, grounding, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

Neither of you speak as you move toward the shower, exhaustion finally settling in now that the night is behind you. The rush, the panic, the guilt—it’s all faded into something quieter, something heavier. You barely fight for the space, stepping inside together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The hot water soothes your skin, washing away the remnants of the night, but not the tension clinging to your chest. Kirishima stands behind you, arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. His breathing is slow, deep, and for the first time in months, you feel yourself start to relax.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion.

You nod, leaning back against him. “Yeah. Just a little sore”

“Mmm, I can fix that”

He presses a lazy kiss to your damp shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly before he exhales, long and heavy. Neither of you move to leave, letting the water rinse away the weight of everything; said and unsaid.

Fix what? The sound of your beating heart, or the ache in it for more of him? Both?

His hands wander, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding lower, pressing warm and firm against your stomach. A quiet, needy sound escapes you when he reaches your thighs, his touch featherlight. His lips find your neck, dragging lazy, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, like he’s memorizing the taste of you, like he can’t get enough.

And then, just when your body melts completely into his, his fingers slip between your thighs.

The first touch is teasing, the softest graze of his fingertips against your clit and folds, but it sends a shiver straight down your spine and your lower stomach. You gasp, your head tilting back against his shoulder as he circles, presses, works you open with patience, practiced ease.

“Want your pussy on my mouth, right now”

The moan that spills from your lips in response is inevitable, breathy and wanting, and Eijiro smiles against your skin, his voice a quiet rumble against your ear before he presses another kiss to the spot that's closer to your lips.

He shifts you just so he can kneel before you and place a kiss to your aching clit. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace up the plush skin of your leg, slowly, just barely grazing where you need him most.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you. He retaliates by pressing his tongue to your aching heat, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Eijiro—” His name slips from your lips in a breathless plea, but he only responds by dragging his tongue up again, his fingers sinking into your skin like he wants to claw your skin off. You hiss at the pain, but get high of the roughness of it.

One of his hands slides higher, palm pressing hard against your stomach before trailing lower again. He curls his tongue against you, circling it on your clit. He absolutely looks and sounds as if he’s devouring you. And you just can’t get enough.

Then, when he has you completely pressed against the wall, his fingers join the torturous rhythm of his mouth, slipping between your folds, teasing, pressing, pushing until your head falls back. Guttural noises swallowed between your thighs, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he enters you with two fingers.

Dazed by how good it feels, you stop caring about the temperature of the water anymore, you buck your hips against his mouth. Chasing a release.

His licks get sloppy, his rhythm too and he opens his eyes to look at you.

“Want you to come on my fucking tongue” he says between smacking sounds, like he’s drunk on you.

He sucks your clit, licking at it again as he twists his fingers inside you. Your legs start shaking like earlier, but you don’t get embarrassed about it this time. Eijiro, as if he doesn’t want you to pressure yourself even a bit, shrugs his shoulder on your leg, signing at you to hook it over his shoulder. You do it, wordlessly.

This new angle has him feral on you. He nibbles and licks, either with the flat of his tongue or with the tip of it.

You’re lost in the sensation, every nerve alight. You can feel the rawness in the way he moves, while he’s completely focused on you, as if the world has disappeared and it’s only the two of you left.

You jerk under his ministrations; it’s a warning. A telltale sign that you’re going to come soon.

And when you finally do—when your body tenses, then shudders with release—he doesn’t stop. He rides it out, dragging every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re left breathless, completely at his mercy.

Only then does he pull away, his lips slick, his eyes dark with something unreadable as he looks up at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks—just a silent understanding that passes through the air.

By the time you dry off and slip into bed, the exhaustion is impossible to ignore and he hasn’t fixed any soreness, if anything he’s made it worse, but you don’t dare to point it out to him. He plops onto your bed and pulls you close without hesitation, tucking you against his chest like it’s instinct, like it’s where you’ve always belonged. You coo into the touch, set on using the air conditioner for tonight, just so you can let him warm you up.

You kiss the middle of his chest, and he almost flinches at how soft the action is.

Eijiro’s fingers trace slow, absentminded patterns on your back, the warmth of his body lulling you into something dangerously soft, dangerously safe. You’re not sure you’re ever going to fall asleep without being in his arms ever again, but your kisses on his chest, his collarbones and neck, don't stop.

“You’re not leaving, right?” you murmur, barely awake by now. Desperate for anything that’ll let you be at ease to fall asleep.

His arms tighten around you. “Not tonight.” He says and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s the last thing you hear—or feel, before sleep pulls you under, his steady heartbeat the only thing keeping the rest of the world where he’s in, at bay. Just for tonight.

You’ll deal with Mina and Heartbreak Co. Tomorrow.

_______

When the morning comes you realise, you want to be domestic. Casual. Just like this.

When you wake up curled under his enormous bicep, long red hair sprawled messily all over his chest, mingling with yours, with you, there's a false notion as to why he's here still. Though you can't dive into it right now, with your eyes begging you to shut them close again and the bigger part of your brain begging you to fall back asleep. But you can't..

That itchy corner in the back of your mind won't let you.

Because Eijiro is here. Holly fucking hell, Eijiro is sleeping right under you.

You've never seen him asleep -the time you slept on each other for a good 30 minutes doesn't really count- and you're itching to lay your eyes on him. To steal a glance, to imprint the image in your brain. To create a memory because you're not so sure youre gonna see him again after this, utterly convinced last night was a petty fuck to the result of being high and drunk at Mina's party.

Then again that's Kirishima for you.

But, despite the fact that you feel angst in your soul, looking at the way the sun reflects on his skin makes you think that anything he did last night is just so sweet of him. To give you a dose of something so addicting, just when you were getting over him. something to grab onto so you dont forget him, so you remember him.

You're not sure you've slept this well in ages. You already know you'll spend endless sleepless nights staring at your ceiling wishing you could rest like this again, or maybe wishing you hadn't slept at all, so you could savor every single second with him.

You’re gonna miss this moment terribly and you know it. But then again, you'll miss something that doesn't exist. You crave days like this, their non-existence. It's what makes them more desirable. you want what you cant have and it's killing you.

Your throbbing head and the heavy blanket that sleep is, condemn you unconscious again, the second you feel warm and safe once more. A heaving chest that won't stop hurting is nothing compared to how tiring the previous night has been—it's nothing before the continuation of that dream that you were watching. In desperation to continue it, you melt in the only embrace that makes you ignore the sunlight so you can fall asleep again.

When Kirishima opens his eyes it's like reality comes crashing in. He pays little attention to you, such as to lift you off of him and stand on his butt, in search of his phone, nervously and just so keen on not waking you up still.

‘Good morning’ you utter, so lightly that you're not really sure he can hear it, he's not sure you understand what you're uttering either.

‘Good morning babe’ he smiles, lightly.

There's a kiss planted at the top of your head and had you been awake you'd either coo at its healing properties or chew him out. Both of these outcomes are too scary for him though, but perhaps, one is more slightly manageable than the other.

A quick ramming of your fridge for anything edible follows; He’s rushing to the kitchen after he kisses you, the rustling sounds dragging you from the edge of sleep. You groan softly, stretching beneath the warm sheets, but you don’t open your eyes. Not yet. You want to savor this—just a few more seconds of pretending. Pretending that this is normal, that this is real. That mornings like this aren’t borrowed time.

Kirishima hums under his breath as he moves around your kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing filling the quiet space. You should probably get up, but instead, you burrow deeper into your pillow, inhaling the faint scent of him still lingering on your sheets.

Maybe you’ll just never wash them again, right? So they’ll smell like him forever…

You don't know how long you lay there, stuck in that limbo between wanting to hold onto this moment forever and knowing you can't. Eventually, though, curiosity wins. You shuffle out of bed, padding barefoot toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He's standing by the counter, shirtless, hair messy, flipping through his phone with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. The sight of him in your home, in your space, like this, makes your stomach twist. Because this… this is just what you want.

Domestic. Casual. Just. Like. This.

He glances up when he hears you, grinning around the toast. “Mornin’ again, babe.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your chest tightens at the nickname. “You found food?”

Kirishima shrugs, handing you the second piece of toast from his plate. “You don’t have much, but I made do.”

You take it wordlessly, biting into it as you lean against the counter next to him. Like he counts your bites for his own personal enjoyment, when you swallow your last bite, he’s suddenly leaning into you. Perhaps, for a kiss, if you would have it.

His movements are slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting to see if you’ll pull away. His eyes flicker to yours, searching, but you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t stop him when he traps your chin between his fingers.

Instead, you hold your breath as he leans in, the warmth of him so close, the scent of soap and something uniquely him filling the space between you.

It’s not hurried or desperate, not like last night. This isn’t a kiss born from impulse or alcohol or the reckless heat of a party. This is something softer, something that lingers. Like those ones in Sero’s bathroom.

His lips brush against yours, featherlight, hesitant—giving you the chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You tilt your chin up, closing the distance, and the second your lips fully meet his, something inside you melts.

Kirishima exhales against your mouth, a sound almost like relief, like he’d been hoping for this, waiting for this. His fingers brush against your hip, not holding, just resting there, as if grounding himself in the moment.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, like he wants to savor every second. You let yourself do the same.

When you finally pull back, he’s still close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips. His eyes flicker open, warm, red as rubies and full of something you can’t quite detect.

You swallow. “What was that for?”

Kirishima grins, small and easy, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “Felt like the right thing to do babee.”

And when he leans in again, you don’t stop him.

“Don't call me that”

When he cocks his head to the side to look at you and he looks so cute at that, like a puppy, confused and with glimmering eyes, that’s when he laughs too, perfectly and and oh—you hate him by the way.

“Kay then” he kisses you and takes another bite of his toast before he chews his nexts words out “check your phone, Mina has been calling you non stop”

You groan, dropping your head against his chest for just a second before sighing and peeling yourself away. His warmth lingers, but the real world is creeping back in, persistent and unwelcome.

Your phone is face down on the counter, screen lighting up with yet another call from Mina. Just in time. You hesitate, glancing at Kirishima, who watches you with a strangely adorning expression, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world.

“You gonna answer?” he teases, nudging your hip with his, almost mocking the way Mina hip bumped him away from you last night.

Secretly, he wishes you don’t pick up. Just let him have a moment of comfortable silence with you.

You sigh dramatically, pouting, your shoulders almost drawn to your ankles, looking like a wet cat, before swiping to accept the call. “Mina, before you start yelling—”

‘Put her on speaker’ he mouths, but you ignore him.

“Oh, hell no!” Mina’s voice nearly bursts through the speaker, loud and full of chaotic energy. “Don’t you dare act like I wasn’t gonna start yelling! Where the hell are you? You left!—no text, no nothing! And guess who else was missing? Kirishima! Sero said he saw you and I didn't believe him and oh my gooood, girl, no!”

Kirishima snorts, completely unbothered. He steals the toast from your hand and takes a bite, cheeky as ever. You shoot him a glare, but he just grins and mouths busted over and over again.

“Relax, Mina,” you sigh. “I’m fine. I’m home. I just woke up.”

“Oh, I know you’re fine.” She gasps dramatically. “Wait, are you with him right now?”

You pause for half a second too long.

“You totally are!” Mina shrieks, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear. Kirishima just laughs, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. He towers beside you, tilting his head toward the phone. “Morning, Mina.” His voice is all lazy amusement, like he’s enjoying this way too much. Like he won.

“Oh, hell no, don’t ‘morning, Mina’ me! What the hell happened? Wait, don’t answer that—I don’t wanna know. Or maybe I do? Ugh! I’m having an existential crisis about your love life, what is this?”

You groan, covering your face with your hand. “Mina, I swear, it’s not a big deal—”

Mina’s voice explodes through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Are you kidding me right now?! I was worried! What was I supposed to think when you just vanished with him?! I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to figure out if you were dead in a ditch somewhere?!”

Kirishima snickers, leaning in slightly.

“Ughhhhhh, I’ll see you later, Mina, Byeeeeee” you say quickly before hanging up, not giving her a chance to interrogate you further.

The moment you set your phone down, Kirishima is already grinning at you. “Busted,” he repeats playfully.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

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randomfoggytiger · 1 day ago

Text

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (My Struggle II), Part VIII

TLDR: Mulder's passenger princess episode.

AGENDA GOING IN

Okay.

We’re back.

It’s been awhile (five months) since the last update-- how time flies~.

My thoughts going in: please, enjoy my suffering. Know that these are the rantings of a mad man and don't take anything to heart. Come, let us all gather to loathe (with snacks, of course) this bloated behemoth that chased its own tail right up into its internal organs.

**Note**: All previous parts can be found under the Revival Reviler's first-time watch through and A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try tags; and all my previously documented react projects are easily accessible under the React tag.

MY STRUGGLE II

Welp, it’s time to press play.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII didn’t miss this. At all.

Oh, thanks for the succinct summary of My Struggle I-- you forgot to include the fact that Mulder hadn’t had a breakdown or disconnect from reality, that Scully left him fearing he would, and that she waited in the wings waiting for him to have a breakdown for x amount of months or years. And that she’s jealous of a young blonde woman who she effectively stabbed with a medical instrument when that woman as A. in her care and B. afraid for her life and trying to prove her innocence. And that Mulder already knew the world wouldn’t end right before or right after Colonization… so his breakdown (which he didn’t have) wasn’t connected to Colonization not happening.

And also that he and Scully are and aren’t and will and won’t get together.

And that she was nearly seduced by an Alex Jones type figure.

Just wanted to remind myself of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the garbage I had to weed through in a previous post here. Sigh.

LET CSM DIE.

You can’t just have Scully start narrating-- well, CC can because My Struggle I was Mulder’s Struggle, and My Struggle II is Scully’s, as he said-- and show me all these cool moments and then… bring us back to present.

Why would you do this to my poor, woe-be-gone soul?

Also… most of the pictures we're shown make no sense because those were from private, no-camera-in-sight interludes between Mulder and Scully. Were there no pictures from interviews, or before Congress, or from identification photos, or on crime scenes (i.e. the one from The End) for the writers to grab, or…? YES this is a nitpick, yes I’m petty, yes this is only 2 minutes in.

I will say: this is the most recognizable "Scully" voice yet-- Gillian is tapping into that dreamlike, detached, floating accent that her character of yore used to narrate with. …And to know the camera is going to switch over to her off-brand Scully hair and off-brand X-Files story is… not great.

“Abducted from my home by unknown assailants--” MA’AM, even the FLASHBACK PHOTOS show Duane Barry. YOU KNEW HE WAS THE ONE KIDNAPPING YOU AT THE TIME, NOT THAT THE GOVERNMENT WAS BEHIND IT. PLEASE, I’m barely three minutes in, spare me.

“Tests [that she was subjected to] that I now suspect are part of a larger conspiracy--” MA’AM. Only now?Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase.

“Questions remain… about their motives and final objectives.” Um… for a secret cabal focused on “consolidating” power “at home” and “across the globe”... I think, don’t quote me on this, but I think YOU GOT YOUR MOTIVE RIGHT THERE.

...Yeah. Um. Guess alien blinks sound like camera shutters.

THIS IS THE END says the title card. 'Kay.

Oh, so we're focusing on Scully this episode. Mulder's not in the basement (or will be found? in the basement?) ...Does this parallel My Struggle III when Mulder finds Scully in a coma on the basement floor? Is that in MSIII?

That's it, I'm putting this on 1.75 speed.

Okay, six weeks have passed since My Struggle I. ...You know, what is a reasonable timeline? What is canon? What is anything, really?

Go AWAY Tad O'Malley. "What may seem like science fiction is now scientific facts" UGH.

...What's with the strange up-close, snap out, and float in dramatic angles? ...I know it's for the updated show, but sometimes it's too... it's too.... Goofy. There, I said it. It's goofy. They're wasted on inconsequential moments to build artificial tension. Those effects should be saved for times when it matters, not "Character A walks in, sits down, listens to under 30 seconds of alien DNA stuff, ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, SWOOSH, WHOOSH, PHONE CALL, floooooooooat iiiiiiiiiin."

Ugh.

FURTHER PROOF THAT SEASON 10 HAD THE WORST MAKEUP:

This, this, THIS is Gillian's up-close shot? THIS?? Crust between her eyebrows creating an almost unibrow??? Cracking under her right eye???? Green poking through her concealer????? Cakey, pasty vinyl on her cheeks?????? Is she molting?????????

Compare to Milagro and you'll see that OH, WOW, the above is bad.

This plot is so mind-numbingly convenient:

Scully shows up at the office, Mulder's not there.

Scully sits down because Mulder's device is playing Tad out loud.

Just as she reaches the pertinent part, Tad calls (not because he's a weirdo who was waiting for his show to reach that beat, noooooo, just because he needed to call her, of course.)

Tad needs to talk.

Scully drives to Mulder's house where Tad is: her partner's missing: he had a meeting with Tad there and never showed.

Convenient. Just soooooooo convenient. And this one minute of drama all conveniently comes together six weeks after the Revival's first episode. Despite other cases she and Mulder investigated that would require a ton of time to solve and catalog. Uh huh.

This is definitely, absolutely, 100% realistic. Definitely.

Tad talking sense into Scully. Nope, don't like that.

1.75x is the perfect speed for this, it really highlights how random and nonsensical all these actions and passing conveniences are.

Scully doesn't listen, calls police to find Mulder.

Skinner and Einstein are in the office? And she's consulting them? Idon'tcaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaare.

"I'm afraid he fears my judgment," says Scully about Mulder not leaving a note. "That I might think he's crazy or not."

...

......

.........

..............

You can't hear it, but I'm sighing away Deep Throat and the Season 4 Max two-parter and Folie a Deux....

Scully.

Writers.

Don't insult me.

Bumping this up to 2x.

"No one has the right or the ability to tamper with your DNA," insists Einstein.

"Unless we gave them that ability."

...What. (Note from the future: That line still doesn't make sense.)

IWTB hospital and first wave of patients (unbeknownst to Scully and Einstein.) Sigh.

Mulder lookin' not too good in his car. Sigh.

I wish I had a 3x opinion.

WHY are we looking at characters through IVF pols and etc. while they deliver (rehashed) important dialogue (again)? Because it's artsy? It's stupid.

I'm not even 10 minutes in.

"The science that we were taught takes us but a distance towards the truth."

Setting that statement aside-- because it contradicts many high and noble monologues from the original series that Scully HERSELF spoke-- Einstein talks with "ums" and snappy, modern lingo while Scully still speaks as she did in the original run: a touch flowery, a touch otherworldly, a touch pastiche or purple prose.

This not only distracts but frustrates because the Revival dialogue flip flops on this distinction constantly: Mulder and Scully sounding like themselves (sometimes too young and too purple-prosy) one second then "updated", modern mouthpieces-- using words like "homey" and "the internet" unironically-- the next.

I'm so... look. Okay, yes, we're going there.

Actually, no, I need to go outside for a bit first, then we're going there.

...I'm back.

So. Let's be super, super honest here: Chris Carter is trying to appeal to a (then) mass, general perspective of his intelligence. He wants to be seen as the smartest genius TM when it comes to discerning "the truth" and seeing through "the lies." He did this more deftly with characters such as Deep Throat, Max Fenig (who Morgan and Wong created, actually), and other like-minded tie-ins to a greater conspiracy. Fox Mulder was the epitome of how to do this concept right: Mulder routinely fought to separate his message from the pencil pushers and the quacks-- those who implied he was "in on it" because he was a Fed (and therefore, a Jew) and those who went too far in their conspiracies while on an earnest hunt to expose the truth (the fringe radicals or not-so-radicals.) Carter even played with conspiracy theorist nuts well with The Lone Gunmen (who were also created by Morgan and Wong), three dudes who felt betrayed by the government but could also trip up over the strip of metallic paper in their $20.

Why did all the aforementioned examples work whereas Tad O'Malley does not? It's not because conspiracy theories were on the rise in 2015-- that just removes any excuse from the writers, who could have studied and cleverly built up on that "phenomenon." And no, it's not because CC secretly likes or encourages those fringe or peripheral thought experiments-- his bent leans the opposite way, which makes this situation even more irritating.)

You cannot have a conspiracy theorist be right about everything. Not only does it hinder your message, it then promotes that vein of thinking: that all counter-culture is probably correct because it chooses to explore what others are too afraid to (Scully) or what the government is suppressing for their own interests. And why is this so... for lack of a better word, idiotic?

Conspiracy theorists are just people like you and me: they're human, and they're often wrong. Their motives might come from a universal place, and they can be right about a few things (broken clock is right twice a day, etc.), but that doesn't mean they're infallible, either.

Tad O'Malley, meanwhile, is proven right over Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. Fox Mulder. And Dana Scully. Again and again.

What the writers were trying to do is point out our own perception bias and highlight our own ignorance, ala Max Fenig. Why they succeeded then-- Max was right enough and wrong enough-- is why they failed now: Tad is right, always, because the plot needed him to be. His irrationality-- believing in chemtrail and microwaves and etc.-- still serves as a truth machine to the people; and he is still painted as a heroic figure bringing hope to the masses in times of crisis.

I know the writers' point: truth and hope can come from the unlikeliest places because we're all human and we all want each other to survive. That's nice. Put it in the script next time.

In short: it's because Carter and his writers, all of them, were lazy. In trying to subvert the new norm-- the rising growth in conspiracy theorists like QAnon or Alex Jones-- and trying to prove how they could take an established trope most of the public disliked and invert it (as he did with UFOs in the 90s), CC fell into an obvious trap: he forgot to make it make sense-- or, worse, didn't see the value in doing so and, thus, didn't care.

And why does this boil down to laziness? Because CC has the next goal to reach, the next car to explode, the next up close shot and lens flare to chase!!!!! HE doesn't have TIME for piddly quibbles!!!! He doesn't have TIME to flesh out what should remain a mystery!!!!!!!! He has to chase the mystery, guys, don't you get it, guys, there's ALIENS out there, guys, but it's NOT aliens it's THE GOVERNMENT, GUYS!!!!!! Aren't I so clever??? YOU THOUGHT IT WAS ALIENS THIS WHOLE TIME BUT IT WAS THE GOVERNMENT, HAHA!!! YOU THOUGHT SCULLY WOULD STAND BY MULDER EVEN IF SHE THOUGHT HE WAS CRAZY, HAHA!!!!! YOU THOUGHT TAD O'MALLEY WAS LIKE ALEX JONES, HAHA!!!!! I FOOLED YOU ALL!!!!!!!!!!!

Laziness. Absolute laziness.

Also: Tad's show is called SQUAD. He and his squad'. I just... wanna die.

Also also: Tad's show sure is getting a lot of press. And do you know why he's getting a lot of press? Because in canon, his show was forcibly shut down by the government.

Hm. Now wouldn't that be a more honest and interesting plot line if the writers wanted to set the show in current-day politics (a show that wasn't about politics to begin with, but I digress)? That Tad might be so wrong that his program became dangerous; and that the government then overstepped their power to suppress those claims and, in effect, gave him a microphone because of that unlawful suppression? And wouldn't it be more complicated if Tad got his hands on valuable information right before everyone became ill, and the public then began to buy into his message because he "predicted" what would happen while the government was divided into two camps: those who were ignorant and those who were effecting global change (i.e. the Syndicate remnant)? Like Kersh and CSM, for example? Y'know, the threads that were established and dropped previously? Wouldn't that fit The X-Files in the modern age, that the government can't get away with outright suppression like it used to? That even those who try to do good can effect evil if they handle it wrongly? Wouldn't that also prove to the audience that Mulder is in a different class than regular conspiracy theory nuts; and that Scully was intelligent enough to clock that he was being duped and save him from swallowing the lie?

Again, absolute laziness.

Also also also, the vaccines are attacking these peoples' immune systems because they've effectively been immunocompromised.

And while that's all maybe scientifically fine and dandy, you've gotta PROVE THAT, CC. Instead, Scully sees one patient-- who she doesn't know is a military vet-- and just. A. assumes he's a vet, B. that he's had a mandatory anthrax vaccine, and C. that it's the vaccine that's killing him because it's suppressing the veterans' immune systems....

Oh by the way, we're TOLD all that because it would be too much work to devote any time to building up to or even proving that assertion, claim, or theory. ...WE HAD A BLUE PRINT IN F. EMASCULATA, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS DIFFICULT.

Scully jumps on a global contagion theory... because... Tad's guest said it would happen. And she jumps on that because... Mulder's gone and also because.... she trusts that he's figured out a similar conspiracy theory. And she jumps on this before waiting for Einstein's DNA results because... there's not enough time (despite doing two time-consuming medical tests later on.)

The writers' intent: to show off Scully's intelligence, to prove she trusts Mulder's instincts and her gut despite her scientific brain shooting those instincts down as conspiracy.

The reality.... she just jumped on a random theory to keep the plot rolling. ...WHY.

Scully... never checked... Mulder's computer... to track... his phone....

And Miller just stumbled across it on Mulder's OPEN LAPTOP.

I'm.

LAZINESS. Lazy, lazy, LAZY.

I hate the dialogue in this episode so much:

Characters flip ideas on a whim, seemingly at random because the writers needed to stall the episode's progress.

Characters announce themselves not by name but by, "I was there for you when you needed help [last time]" because the writers needed a "who's that????" for commercials.

Other ugh-ery factors. >:///////

"Agent Scully."

"Agent Reyes. Monica."

Thanks for the unnecessary exposition.

"I wish this were in better circumstances. I wish a lot of things were different here today."

"You have something to tell me?"

"Something you need to know."

...Shut up. This dialogue....

"How long have you been at the FBI?"

SCULLY THIS ISN'T IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

Firstly, literally the stupidest explanation for CSM's return.

Secondly, I don't care about this scene or this reintroduced character because Monica goes full-on villain arc later. Here, Gish plays her as someone strong-armed into compromises for the greater good... but since that doesn't last....

Pffffffft, I don't care.

WHY. ARE. THERE. SO. MANY. UP-CLOSE SHOTS. OF. THEIR. FACES. FOR. NO. REASON.

Wait, ALIENS ARE BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS. But they were never evil, oh noooooooooooooo, definitely not. We just used their incredible science for evil and blamed THEM. (Despite those innocents abducting and cutting Mulder open. And turning the Requiem population into super soldiers-- yeah, remember those? You're right-- I don't either. )The truest shame the human race ever did. Tragic.

So, Monica compromised because she wanted to be "one of the chosen"/"one of the elites" to survive.... But tries to frame it as she did it to help? Scully? Who was already "one of the chosen" because her genome was already tampered with during her first ever abduction?

So.

Monica effected nothing, is bound to he CSM forever, and will live.

And... how does that help anyone, exactly?

Honestly. What's her plot. she's just a coward. She did nothing and achieved nothing except get "sealed" and serve CSM smokes.

Lot of unnecessary lingerings on CSM smoking, btw. Could have cut that down so the episode doesn't feel so rough-shod.

"He loves Mulder," blabs Monica. "He sent a man to him to offer him a deal."

Mulder fight montage. ...Okay, fine, nice, you got your punches in, that's okay, fine. But there had BETTER be a reason for this sequence.

I'm waiting--

WAIT, THE GUY'S TRYING TO KILL HIM OR CHOKE HIM OUT, WHAT. CSM SENT HIM OVER TO SAVE MULDER BUT, BUT, WHAT--

Okay, now the fight's becoming too long and silly.

GUN'S OUT??? How is this supposed to SAVE Mulder, again??

More fighting, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh, I just know this is going to end with a "Wait, wait, I'm here because--" moment....

Even worse: Mulder gets the upper hand, asks, "Who sent you?", and goes to CSM anyway.

THAT WAS A WASTE OF TIME.

I hate, hate, hate the dialogue. "I've always won badminton"/"You never won, I controlled the game in your and my favor before you were born"/"I don't believe my beloved badminton is rigged"/"You don't want to believe."

Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking.

Pause for smoking again.

Do you know that every word on a script's page is calculated for time spent to film, down to a second's worth? That not only do the writers'plot out sequences, but someone else they hire cuts through and marks their writing with that timetable, leaving very little flexibility for too many add-ons or add-libs (unless succinct, quick, and carefully slotted in?)

And the writers plotted for how many neck-smoking sequences?

Wow.

Mulder smacking CSM's cig away would have been nice if it hadn't been squandered by the up-close DID YOU CATCH IT shots back and forth. And the fact we had a better moment from a better era (Talitha Cumi) that did this, too. SEE, FANS, YOU CAN DO PARALLEL GIFS NOW-- aren't you happy?????

CSM sounds so Canadian. Guess WBD didn't watch out for his vowels anymore? I guess?

At this point, just.... Is there any reason why Mulder doesn't pull the trigger? YES, I KNOW real Mulder wouldn't. But this is Earth 2 Mulder. This is Clone!Mulder. This is... what did I call him in my Weremonster review (post here)? Oh, yeah: this is Ken; and he'd leave a slug in CSM's head for his Barbie. Why not? For me, do it for meeeeeeeeee.

We're back to this: Tad O'Malley 's characterization is, perhaps, THE PEAK EXAMPLE of lazy writing. (That or Scully's continued butchery....)

"The mainstream media doesn't cover" etc. etc. Well guess what? Both sides don't cover what's not advantageous to their narrative; but further, WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULDN'T COVER THIS NEWS STORY? We haven't established in canon if the media is or isn't in pocket with the Syndicate. Regardless, they'd be scrambling with 24/7 coverage for answers or an attempt at a cover up. What should have happened instead was that the media wasn't following the story to public's satisfaction and Tad filled that void, which would reveal a selfish, megalomaniacal streak to his nature-- the classic tale of drunk on power and corrupt with unchecked influence. INSTEAD, he's right.

And Chris Carter, by proxy, turns himself and his writing and his analytical prowess into a mere, perfunctory jape. (I'm not the type to hate, despise, or even dislike CC. I'm really not. But this is a stretch too far; and his later dogged insistence that we didn't get it is an even further, even more insulting stretch.)

I think? Chris tried to inject nuance-- that Tad was wrong because he deduced the cause of the virus to CHEMTRAILS, of all things-- but... the episode hasn't said it's not chemtrails, NOW HAS IT. You can't have one thing be held up as possible proof without debunking it or, I don't know, at least addressing how stupid that is.

Wait, did they even explain how everyone got sick? Or why was the military hit first? Or why there weren't huge swatches of the immuno-compromised population that came down with the virus first?

DON'T ASK, JUST CONSUME PRODUCT.

I'm only half-way through.

Spartan virus.

Oh, so Monica Reyes told her about the virus. Off-screen. ...So Monica's scene was still a waste because it established nothing important in two or three minutes, then kept necessary information off-screen so Scully could relay it later on x2 speed. ...Got it.

Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy. And stupid.

Stupid.

"I'm on the king's throne, it's soft like the king"/"On the contrary--" ARE WE IN MIDDLE-SCHOOL??? "MY INSULT IS BETTER THAN YOURS"? "I'M CLEVERER THAN YOU BECAUSE I USED THE SAME WORD BUT TWISTED IT A DIFFERENT WAY"?????? WHAT IS THIS.

CC's trying to have his Grand Inquisitor Talitha Cumi moment but forgot it was David Duchovny, not himself, that managed to pull off those concepts... because they were DD's ideas and interests. And because he was, I dunno, not cringe about it.

Welp, we've skipped past Dostoevsky and gone straight to Leroux. Or more likely Webber, since he popularized Phantom of the Opera.

I'm so.

My Struggle II isn't even angering because all of it is rehashed Wattpad: early elementary and middle school creative writing exercises. At least something's HAPPENING. It's just... eye roll worthy.

CSM's still lustin' after Scully?????? Bro just won't let it go.

Okay, I'm gonna say it: CC's setting this guy up to be a virile patriarchal figurehead-- as in, be fruitful and multiply. Mulder's become his Cain son (cursed by God) and he intends to build a new legacy through Seth, i.e. Jackson, I presume; or a second miraculous baby from Scully. BECAUSE THAT'S THE IMPLICATION, btw.

Scully's alien DNA's gone. It just comes and goes when the plot needs it to, huh?

Tad's back. Microwave radiation as far as Europe. Cute.

The lights go out. Scully remarks they're already in the dark. The lights come back on. Scully has a ground-breaking idea. Subtle.

Einstein's up-close makeup is also crusty and gross. Sigh.

THEIR SAMPLE OF SCULLY'S ALIEN DNA WAS TOO SMALL??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? THEY DIDN'T FACTOR IN THE POSSIBILITY OF NEEDING ENOUGH TO TEST ON/WITH AND TAKE A LARGER SAMPLE FROM THE GET-GO OR SOMETHING????????????

Oh, Mulder didn't even bother to leave CSM's place?? (In South Carolina, btw. That's a callback for us Earth 2 theorists, as the writers referred to us fans via TLG and Mulder in Blood.) Mulder just gave up and laid back on CSM's comfy chair to die?????

MULDER DIDN''T LIMP BACK TO SCULLY'S SIDE TO DIE WHEN HE KNEW CSM WAS IMPLYING HE WOULD SCOOP HER UP-- NOT EVEN TO WARN SCULLY, AND JUST DECIDED TO LIE BACK AND DIE???????????????????????????????????????? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS "GET UP AND FIGHT" REALIZATION in AMOR FATI?????? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM ALWAYS GOING BACK TO HER BECAUSE SHE MAKES HIM A WHOLE PERSON????? WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM DOING THE IMPOSSIBLE TO WARN HER SHE'S IN DANGER????????????????????????????????? WHERE IS MULDER, AND CAN SOMEONE PLEASE GET A REFUND FOR EARTH 2 MULDER AND SCULLY?

Miller found him. Just. Peachy.

Why did I just get a flashback to Bill Mulder's death? Probably because Mulder Lite is saving older gen Mulder. UGH.

Little Mulder Lite has more grits and guts than his predecessor. That's... that.

CSM-- who was just chillin' as Mulder lay fully consumed by the majesty of impending death on a comfy cushion-- lets 'em go, I guess.

The scientists are just rehashing dialogue. That's all they do this episode, unfortunately.

CSM literally waddled out after them to see Mulder off and tell Mulder Lite to say "Goodbye" from him.

...

.....

........

How far The X-Files have fallen.

That's a fancy car. Guess Miller, too, has a stack of cash we Earth 2 theorists can headcanon that his parents left him after some tragic fate. Whatevs.

Look at the pathetic mew mew-- the absolute wet, sopping beast-- in the passenger seat. Glad it's not Mulder-- that would be demoralizing, ha ha ha....

Only about 7 minutes left.

Wait.

WAIT.

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT.

Scully's giving everyone alien DNA. How's that gonna--

And also: they already have alien DNA. They were all born with it. It's junk DNA in their system. We learned this from the ORIGINAL SERIES.

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Tad, I do not CARE.

Scully just stops someone from causing havoc and chaos because she... begs them? To go to the hospital? And promises them help is on the way?

Lady, they don't know who you are. And if these are disaffected rioters and looters, they're not gonna listen to, let alone believe, you.

WAIT.

THEY HAVE A VACCINE?????? JUST LIKE THAT??????? IN A MATTER OF HOURS???????????????????????

Also, Tad O'Malley just got a text and that's how everyone found out? Who texted him? Miller? How did Miller know? Did Scully tell him? What? What, what what, WHAT.

...Is the hospital using Scully's DNA now to make more vaccines? Is that why she's free to run around the city? Free to meet Mulder and Miller and help them? UM.

UM.

Are there even any reported deaths? Legitimately asking that.

It's all so illogical I'm not going to try to parcel it out.

This episode is brought to you by a man who believes only six weeks have elapsed since My Struggle I. More knucklehead comedy after the break.

Scully meets up with them at the bridge.

Mulder says... Mulder says: "He saved your life. Old Smokey. I suppose I should thank him."

...Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Yes, it's a quip. At least it's supposed to be one: Mulder, irreverent to the last. EXCEPT HE MIGHT BELIEVE IT BECAUSE THE WRITING'S SO LAZY WE'RE NOT SHOWN WHAT HE ACTUALLY THINKS OR FEELS.

SCULLY takes ONE look at him and thinks, "Ah, snap, he needs more than what I brought, snap. A vaccine might not save him, snap." HELLO, how do you know that, ma'am. How does she know that, writers? IS ANYONE AWAKE IN THE WRITING ROOM?

PLEASE GIVE ME A SHOW OF HANDS BY WAVING YOUR HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMAS.

Embarrassingly lazy.

OH, SUDDENLY SCULLY NEED TO FIND WILLIAM. Not because she has guilt for him, not because she wants to atone and make things right, not because she wants closure.... but BECAUSE MULDER NEEDS HIS STEM CELLS, PROBABLY. WHAT???????????????

EVEN IF YOU DO, SUDDENLY, FIND WILLIAM ASAP,

MULDER WILL BE DEAD

BY THEN.

Oh, look: lens flares. Because that's what's important.

UFO's here, I guess.

Uh.

Also.

Um.

Wouldn't it be funny if that was William and he was riding down to join his parents after the aliens reclaimed him at some point, like Gonzo's alien family in one of the Muppet movies? I wouldn't put it past the show in all honesty.

What a ghastly but whimsical mess. Aspirational child's first major writing project. It's kind of sweet through that lens.

And then you remember who wrote this and die a little inside.

Let's consolidate this madness:

The Syndicate gained alien technology from the aliens (it's in the name) in the 50s. The aliens were peaceful creatures, I guess, who didn't really want to cause anyone problems.

Colonization didn't happen in 2012 because the aliens weren't going to colonize because humans were going to destroy the planet through global warming.

Mulder knew Colonization wouldn't happen before 2012, which means his depression didn't stem from that. He just got uber depressed (and diagnosed with the wrong depression, ahem ahem) and... yep.

Scully left before Mulder's depression got really bad. There is no mention in canon how bad it got, ONLY that she feared it would be worse and left. The best explanation we're given (in S11) is that she had to work on herself, too.... So, I guess that means leave your depressed-but-not-really-but-maybe-but-not(?) partner without giving us, the audience, a plausible explanation for that break.

Scully is surprised she has alien DNA... despite her knowing she had alien DNA since the original run; and despite she and Mulder knowing everyone has junk alien DNA in their system.

Mulder has alien DNA, so he shouldn't have gotten sick here. Everyone has alien DNA, so they shouldn't have gotten sick here.

Monica Reyes joined CSM to survive and tells Scully about the Spartan virus and... dips? Her scene served no purpose other than to show us formerly-exploded CSM. The meaty information necessary to the episode was given off-screen.

Scully jumps from wild conspiracy to other wild conspiracy without proof.

CSM sends a guy to save Mulder and that guy... tries to kill Mulder? Such a stupid tv/movie trope.

Mulder never disconnects/turns off his phone while driving to get vengeance on CSM... and Scully never thinks to check if his phone location was on.

Mulder drives to CSM's just to collapse on his couch and give up.

The writers wanted a parallel to Amor Fati where Mulder lies "dying" with "the devil" outside his door, and tried to recreate that motif (or straight up rip it off) when Miller arrived: CSM was literally on the other side of the door from where Mulder was dying, again.

CSM just lets Mulder and Miller leave despite wanting to see Mulder die. 'Kay.

Scully manufactures a vaccine in a matter of hours...? From her DNA?

Scully takes one look at Mulder and assesses he's too far gone and thinks she needs to find their son to use his stem cells on Mulder to save him. ...How would Scully know this, given her particular practice, current vocation, and lack of expertise?

While Scully flails and loses her mind (and core character traits) in My Struggle I, Mulder slumps over and gives up in My Struggle II. It's not out of character for him to do so in extreme situations (ala Little Green Men-ish and 3 and One Breath and One Son) but it has to be JUSTIFIED.

Also: the conspiracy theorist is ultimately right all along. He's just mistaken about his chemtrail theory-- it was the government weaponizing vaccines instead. Yippee.

CONCLUSION

Nancy Yi Fan wrote a better and more engaging story at 11-years-old than Chris Carter (and Glen Morgan-- he signed off on this) did in his 50s or 60s.

Lazy.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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