#rip kai I guess

[distant-velleity]

Easy Surrender

Summary: Yu faints. Jamil takes care of the problem. Word count: ~900 A/N: This was supposed to be wholesome. Guess what it ended up being? Not entirely that, but hey, it's better than outright angst. Only so much you can do about writing Jamil during Book 4, I guess, and only so far you can go with a pre-friendship/pre-relationship fic set during that time. Oh, well~ Enjoy! <3

~

[ You’ve scared SANTIAGO out of his wits. +10 concern points, +1 fear point. ]

[ You’ve startled JAMIL considerably. +5 concern points, +1 regret point. Character’s satisfaction has increased, reasons unavailable. ]

[ CURRENT DEBUFFS: Dehydrated — USER may experience lightheadedness and other adverse symptoms until he has taken in enough liquid and rested sufficiently. ]

…

Consciousness and coherence return to Yu at the speed of a tortoise—which is to say, not very quickly. When his eyes flutter open and his parched throat tries to take in air through his mouth, he finds himself underneath an extravagant ceiling. Beneath him is the wonderfully soft mattress he’s enjoyed since he got here, just barely firm enough to support his back.

How did he end up here; is the question that comes to mind. Last he remembers, he was being accompanied to his room by Santiago and—

“You’re finally awake.”

—Jamil, who is standing by his bedside and watching over him with his arms crossed, like some kind of well-meaning guardian-aide. 

“Ja…mil?” Yu asks, although it comes out as something more of a weak rasp. He could really go for some water right about now. “What happened—?”

The vice housewarden sighs, which is just as sympathy-inducing as it elicits shame. “You fainted about a minute ago; from dehydration, I’d reckon. Santiago’s getting you some water bottles as we speak.”

Oh, right—

(Following behind an eager Santiago and an exasperated Jamil, Yu was about to step into his room before feeling a sudden spell of dizziness. Instead of stepping carefully, he staggered forward, and then all of a sudden he saw the floor coming up to meet his face—)

If that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Yu feels himself almost wilt with humiliation under Jamil’s sharp gaze. Regardless of any concern that might be found in those onyx-like eyes. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, observing the well-made sheets under him to avoid eye contact. “I shouldn’t have gotten distracted at the oasis—I’ll be more careful next time and hydrate…”

At the same time, he thinks despairingly, With my luck, this’ll somehow screw me over later in the Main Mission.

“It can’t be helped now,” Jamil says neutrally, clothes rustling and hair ornaments chiming as he kneels. “You’re technically a guest, not a Scarabia student. If I can catch Kalim in a good mood, I’ll tell him to keep you out of the training. Worst comes to worst, I’ll have you ride up with him if there’s another march.”

“What?” Yu sits up so fast his head starts to pound, and he’s left reeling for a moment, unsure if he’s swaying or not. Judging by the alarmed little ‘hey!’ he hears and the hand Jamil puts on his back to support him, he probably is. “But everyone else… That… It won’t be necessary…”

There’s a note of exasperation to Jamil’s voice as he dryly remarks, “Please don’t be reckless. You are my responsibility as long as you’re here, so I need to be mindful of your wellbeing.”

Yu hesitates, still not daring to meet Jamil’s eyes. “Right. But it still feels unfair to everyone else…”

“Yu.”

The firm tone has Yu tensing up and, out of instinct-based compulsion, glancing back over at Jamil to make sure the expression on his face isn’t anger. It isn’t, and yet… 

One accidental flick upwards of Yu’s gaze, and sharp dark-brown eyes lock onto golden ones for a moment—but a moment is enough for him to experience an odd sinking feeling, like he’s falling without any ledges to grab onto and stop his descent. Or is that just the lightheadedness he feels from having fainted?

“Just rest for now,” Jamil insists in a deliberate tone. “You’re obviously not cut out for the physical exertion Kalim is putting us through, so don’t push yourself. Especially after your fainting spell.”

And just like that, much of Yu’s willpower to fight, to resist, to be contrary—it crumbles away like sand dunes in the wind. 

“Okay,” he replies, nodding curtly to punctuate his words.

Jamil hums almost approvingly, and with a faint hint of relief. “Glad to see you can listen to reason. Now, where is Santiago—”

As if on cue, there’s a sound not unlike a feather-filled pillow bursting that comes from beyond the closed door—followed immediately by someone cursing under their breath. Jamil mutters, “Speak of the devil,” just as the door opens and Santiago—clutching several water bottles to his chest—stumbles in.

“Sorry it took so long,” the beastman pants, looking less like his usual smug self and more like the frantically genuine teen he should be allowed to be. “I really was trying to go as fast as I could, but—”

“It’s fine, I don’t need excuses,” Jamil says, tiredly, and takes a bottle while turning to Yu. “Here. You’d better start replenishing the fluids in your body.”

“And quickly!” adds Santiago.

Yu smiles a little, quickly forgetting about that weird weightlessness he’d felt earlier (it felt so familiar, like he was losing control of his body, but when had he experienced it before, again…?) as he takes the water bottle and takes a long drink. “...Thanks, you guys,” he says sincerely, catching his breath after finishing.

The way Santiago almost preens with pride is enough to overshadow how Jamil says, “It’s no problem… no problem at all.”

…

If Yu just looked and listened a little more closely, he would have noticed the ominously self-satisfied glint to Jamil’s eyes.

[gay-caveman]

[artekai]

I should play P5S and make it about my OCs somehow

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

fighting for your love — yjh & hjs

summary: when you couldn’t pick who to date between joshua and jeonghan, you weren’t expecting to result in a fight, literally

tags: smut (minors dni!), romance, boxer!au warnings: explicit unprotected sex, threesomes, floor sex, praise, fingering (f. receiving), oral (m. & f. receiving), spitroasting, throat fucking, dacryphilia, double vaginal penetration, light degradation, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampies, overstimulation wc: 5.5k an: it took me a month to write so i hope you enjoy it, kai if you're reading this i hope you especially like it lol my little local jihan lover

“This is ridiculous,” you state as you watch the two boys slide their gloves on.

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s necessary,” Jeonghan says as he climbs into the ring.

“If you can’t pick, then we’ll pick for you,” Joshua tells you. “This is how plenty of animals find a mate and what are humans other than another species of animal.”

You let out a frustrated huff.

This isn’t the outcome you were expecting when you couldn’t pick between Joshua or Jeonghan after they both asked you out.  You understand that this is their thing, that they’re boxers, but this is honestly unnecessary. 

You’ve known both boys for a while now and are no stranger to their competitive nature but you didn’t think it would bleed over into their romantic lives as well. You should have known better. Your work for the gym they belong to and even though you’re around their coach and manager more, they’ve both seemed to take an interest in you anyway.

Despite being frequently annoyed by their antics, you actually do like both of them, that’s why you’ve been having a hard time picking between the two of them. Each has their own pros (and their own cons) and you truly don’t know who to pick, so here you are now, about to watch Joshua and Jeonghan box each other to become your boyfriend.

Everything really started a year and a half ago when Jeonghan signed on with Sebong, the gym you work for. You work basically as the assistant of the owner doing all of the work he doesn't want to do. You didn’t know he was joining the gym though, and was surprised to see such a handsome man standing in the lobby of your gym, which is not open to public access.

The first thing he did when he saw you was flirt with you. Soon the gym coach came in and took Jeonghan away, but that has been his lasting first impression ever since. After that, anytime Jeonghan would run into you in the gym, he’d take time out of his training just to flirt with you.

Joshua on the other hand, has been a long time member of the Sebong gym. He’s been around longer than even you have and he’s always been more or less respectful and kind to you, keeping his fair distance. That is, until Jeonghan appeared. The two seemed to be able to turn anything into a competition, and when Joshua realized that Jeonghan had his eyes set on you, he decided to do the same.

At first you thought it was a joke, but then it seemed to progress further and further to the point there was no way the boys were dropping all the money to bring you lunch and flowers whenever they could just for a laugh. So once you started to take them seriously, the competition really picked up. Taking you out on nice (expensive) dates, buying you gifts, showering you in flattery, requesting you route for them in their next match, whatever they could do to get your attention away from the other man and onto them. It was a bit over the top…but you also kind of loved it.

As you slowly got to know each man better, you slowly started to fall for both of them. There’s something so charming about the way you can never expect what Joshua will do next, yet he’ll always be a gentleman about it, and the way Jeonghan can be mischievous but still so caring at the same time. It’s so frustrating having to pick just one.

In terms of boxing, they’re also pretty equally matched. Joshua’s always been one of Sebong’s best boxers and one of the reasons why become so competitive with Jeonghan in the first place was due to the fact Jeonghan was able to sweep in and match his level. 

Sometimes you’ll watch them during practice, going harder than anyone else in the gym, not wanting to quit until the other does. You know Coach loves it though, because they help push each other to be better.

The two are usually the last two out of the gym, forcing you to stay later so you can lock up after they get done. You don’t mind too much, you like watching them practice, and they always offer to help you clean up before leaving. After locking the doors they’ll always walk you to your car like proper gentlemen, and sometimes they’ll even invite you out to eat or something of the likes. You usually say yes.

You think one of your favorite moments with them was when you all went out to a bar together and got drinks and food and spent the whole night out talking. It felt natural, like the competition was set aside and you guys were just enjoying a night together as three friends. 

The only problem is…the more time you spend with them, the harder it is to choose one. You’ve told them such on many occasions but the answer doesn’t seem to satisfy either man. That’s how Mingyu’s (not so) brilliant idea came to fruition.

“You’re both boxers, just fight for her.” It was said as more of a joke, but when you’re dealing with people like Jeonghan and Joshua, nothing is a joke if it can become competition. You were close to strangling Mingyu after he said it, but the other two were already gearing up to start the fight.

Which brings you to where you are now, after hours in the gym, staring at the two black haired men standing in the ring. 

“Nothing will get out of hand, it’s just a friendly fight to determine who is worthy of your love,” Joshua assures you. You huff.

“What if neither of you win?”

Both men turn to you. “What does that mean?”

“It means you two are a little too evenly matched. I’ve seen you spar before and it always ends in a tie.”

“Not this time princess. Those are always practice matches, there’s something valuable on the line now,” Joshua says. 

You know you should be annoyed that they're treating you like some prize to win, but if you’re being completely transparent, you find it a little hot. It’s not your fault that you have two hot boxers wanting to literally fight over you. It doesn’t mean you find them any less ridiculous.

“You can’t stop us Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan tells you. “Unless you pick right now.”

“You know I can’t do that. I-”

“Like both of us,” both men recite back to you in tandem. You roll your eyes.

“It’s not my fault you’re both annoyingly charming.” They send you twin grins at this.

“Just sit back and wait, pretty girl. We’ll have your answer for you soon enough,” Joshua says. “No hard feelings toward the other.” You doubt that last part, but you still just sigh and let them continue. It’s clear you’re not going to be able to stop them.

The two take their stance, shifting their weight from foot to foot, watching the other warily. Their elbows are tucked close to their bodies, their gloves up high to protect their face. Whichever one throws first will set the whole tone of the fight. Joshua makes the first move, but not really. It’s a fake out, but Jeonghan is able to see it coming, and doesn’t fall for it.

Instead he goes in for his own jab, connecting his glove into Joshua’s side. That gets Joshua going and he’s on Jeonghan, rapidly punching at his face. Jeonghan has no other choice than to back up, trying to block the hits. Jeonghan swings at Joshua to try and get him away and the two boys latch onto each other. They hit at each other a bit more before letting go and pulling back.

It doesn’t take long for them to go at it again though. This time it’s Jeonghan getting in his rapid fire hits. Joshua shields the punches away from his head, trying to make a few hits of his own as he does. Then in a miraculous turn around Joshua gets the upper hand, slamming his glove into the side of Jeonghan’s head.

It’s clear the hit resonated in Jeonghan, but he doesn’t let it slow him down. The two skirt around the boxing ring, dodging the other’s attacks while trying to make their own. If you weren’t so familiar with the world of boxing, you’d think they look a little ridiculous. 

You do enjoy the sight a bit though.

Jeonghan’s hair is pulled back and exposes his long, pale neck. You can see a thin layer of sweat start to create a sheen there. His face is hardened and focused as he makes his attacks on Joshua. Speaking of Joshua, he looks just as good himself. His bangs hand in his face slightly, sticking to his forehead with sweat. His usual smiley face is replaced with one of determination and fire in his eyes. Both of their bodies are on display, their well defined muscles and hard abs out in the open for you to gaze at. You enjoy the sight of the way their bodies move; the clear image of their muscles working hard to win the fight. 

You’re not sure how long you get distracted staring at the boys’ bodies but when you finally tune back into the actual fight, both boys are clearly starting to get worn out. Just as you predicted, they’re too evenly matched to knock each other out. They do look incredibly sexy though, worn out and sweaty. You discreetly clench your thighs together, a little too into the sight of the boys going at it for your affections.

You smirk at that though as an idea starts to formulate in your mind. Both boys are in their own corner of the ring, panting, when you approach the side.

“Are you boys done yet?” You drawl and their eyes flit over to you, like they almost forget you’re here, even though you’re the reason they’re even fighting in the first place.

“Not yet baby, still haven’t won yet. But don’t worry, I will soon,” Jeonghan says.

Joshua scoffs. “Yeah right. It’s gonna be me who wins, princess.”

The nicknames go straight to your core, further encouraging your idea. You lean against the ropes of the ring and stare at the two boys intently before speaking. “You know, I’ve always said I can’t pick between you two, but what if I don’t want to pick.”

“Y/N…?”

"Have you two ever considered…you can both have me?"

You watch the way Jeonghan’s throat bobs as he swallows and Joshua’s eyes go wide a bit before a smirk overtakes his face.

“Oh? Is that what you want pretty girl?” He asks, slinking towards where you’re standing, Jeonghan following suit. 

You suddenly feel a bit shy under their looming gaze. “M-maybe.” 

“Maybe?” Jeonghan asks, a playful tone to his words. “That won’t do, baby. You gotta tell us exactly what you want.”

You squirm a bit. “I- I want you guys. Both of you.” 

“Want us to do what?” Joshua asks. You look at both boys who have matching smirks on their faces and you’re starting to realize maybe this isn’t your best idea. When the two men aren’t being competitors, they’re being the evil twins, and you think you may have awoken that side in them. That’s not going to stop you now though.

“Want you to touch me. To fuck me. Please Joshie, Hannie, I need it.”

“Good girl,” Joshua mutters before he’s throwing off his gloves and slipping through the ropes of the ring so he can pull you against his body. His skin is still warm from all of the physical exertion earlier and it feels nice against your own skin. It doesn’t feel nearly as nice as his lips pressing against yours though.

Joshua’s grip is firm, yet gentle at the same time. His kiss is searing against your lips and you let yourself get lost in it. One of his hands cups your neck while the other is snaked around your waist. He holds you in place, not that you’d go anywhere if he did let go. His lips are a mix of sweet from his strawberry flavored chapstick and salty from sweating during the boxing match.

You nearly forget about Jeonghan until you feel him slide up behind you, his own arms snaking around your body, trapping you in between both men. Jeonghan’s mouth attaches to your neck and a shudder runs through your body. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin makes you gasp into Joshua’s mouth, allowing the younger to slip his tongue in.

Jeonghan’s fingers dig into your hip bones and you can feel his own hips grind up against you, his half hard dick nestled right against your ass. In the front you can feel Joshua’s own cock rub against your thigh. Both feelings combined have your head spinning and your panties dampening. 

Jeonghan’s mouth continues to attack your neck before he’s tugging at your shirt collar, trying to reach as much skin as he can. If this was any other situation you may scold the man for stretching out your shirt, but you can’t be bothered right now, wanting his mouth on you as much as possible.

Your attention is pulled away from Jeonghan’s ministrations at the feeling of Joshua’s hands snaking up your shirt. His fingers brush against your bare skin, before fully cupping your tits. He paws at your boobs over your bra for a second before his fingers dip under your bra as well. They brush across your nipples and you moan around Joshua’s tongue still in your mouth. 

For two men who use their fists for a living, they’re also very skilled with their fingers. Jeonghan’s hands travel down your body before they grasp at your thighs. His cock is still pushing up against your ass as he pulls your body back into him even more. He squeezes at your thighs and when one of his knuckles brush up against your clit through your pants you gasp and whine, grinding down to try and gain the friction again.

“Heh,” you hear in your ear, “so fucking needy. It’s so hot baby.” 

“P-please touch me more,” you beg, pulling your mouth back from Joshua.

“Ah, you want me to touch you more? Where? Here?” His fingers brush against your crotch once more and you jerk.

“Yes! There, please! Please Hannie, I need it. Need you.”

“Of course baby, Hannie is gonna take good care of you.” His fingers plunge into your pants and he slides his fingers over your panties and against your clit. He starts to rub it in slow soft circles, causing your legs to go weak in the men’s arms.

“Princess,” Joshua mumbles into your ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. So fucking pretty. I’ve liked you since you started here, you know.”

You whimper at his words. If there’s anything that will set you off, it’s having someone want you as desperately as Jeonghan and Joshua do.

Your panties are already soaked through with your arousal and you’re sure that Jeonghan’s fingers are also drenched. You squirm in the men’s grips, wanting more. Thankfully, they seem to get the hint.

“Fuck,” Joshua finally pulls away from you. “Clothes off. All of them.” Jeonghan also pulls away from you, allowing you to quickly shed all of your layers, leaving you bare to the two men staring at you like you’re their next meal. You kind of are.

Both boys also get rid of the rest of their clothing and your mouth goes dry a bit at the sight of the two naked men in front of you. They’re similar in build with fit bodies and taut muscles. They’re not too similar in their other appendages though.

Though both of their cocks are fully hard, and dripping precum, Joshua’s is fat and heavy and on the tanner sider while Jeonghan’s is long and skinny and a pretty pinkish color. The sight of both of them drives you crazy, though.

You’re still in the middle of assessing their bodies when they descend on you. Their bare skin feels even better against yours now that you’re also naked. You’re already a bit breathless as they sandwich you between them again.

“God, you’re even more gorgeous than I imagined, princess,” Joshua whispers in your ear. “And I’ve been imagining it for a while.”

A shiver runs down your back and you press your body into his even more. Something about his voice, the way he said the words, makes your head dizzy. You’ve never denied that Joshua Hong is one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met, but his voice is also incredibly sexy and deserves to be recognized. Especially when it gets all deep and teasing the way it just did.

“What do you want from us baby?” Jeonghan asks. Oh god his voice as well. The light tone turned sultry. You swear they’re both trying to kill you.

“Anything, everything,” you strangle out. “Please just touch me.”

“I think I can do that,” Joshua says with a smirk and then he’s sinking to his knees so his face is level with your crotch. “So pretty down here too.” He lifts his hand up so he can press two fingers against your clit. He plays with you there for a moment as you slump back against Jeonghan, relying on him to keep you standing.

Jeonghan chuckles at this and he snakes his arms around to your front so he can knead at your breasts. He tugs and flicks at your hardened nipples. Your mind is already reeling, your body buzzing in pleasure. You can barely think as Joshua grabs your leg and lifts it over his shoulder so he can dive straight into your dripping cunt. He licks a long strip against your slit before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking harshly on the bud. You cry out and bury your fingers straight into Joshua’s hair. 

“You sound so pretty for us,” Jeonghan tells you. You turn your head so you can capture his lips with yours and he greedily accepts.

Jeonghan’s kiss is less harsher than Joshua’s, but just as eager. Whereas Joshua tastes like artificial strawberries, Jeonghan tastes sweet like sugary candies and cakes. Your free hand reaches up behind you so you can bury your fingers in Jeonghan’s silky soft hair as well.

You’re not sure which boy to focus on, as Joshua starts to prod at your entrance with his fingertips. He teases you there until he finally inserts a finger, slowly pumping it in and out of you. You wiggle in his grip a bit, wanting even more, but Jeonghan holds you still.

“Patience baby. You’ll get what you need soon enough. Let Joshua enjoy his meal for now.” Jeonghan’s hands still play with your tits as he talks to you. “You can be a good girl for us, can’t you?”

You nod. “Y-yes. Wanna be good for you two.”

Below you, Joshua’s now fed you a second finger. His mouth is still sucking at your clit, not letting up. When you look down at him, his eyes are closed in complete pleasure. His free hand has been squeezing your ass as he goes down on you and you can’t help but think about how pretty he looks like this.

You’re sure his cock is leaking all over the floor and the thought has you groaning. You can feel Jeonghan’s cock nestled in the small of your back and you reach around to grasp him. Jeonghan doesn’t seem to be expecting this and he lets out a hiss before thrusting into your fist.

His cock is slender and fits nicely in your grip. You rub your thumb over his slit, collecting his precum and using it to lubricate the rest of his cock so you can pump him in your fist. Jeonghan’s mouth latches onto your shoulder and you can feel him trembling behind you. Your hand is only half working at him, too distracted by the way you can feel your stomach tightening.

“J-josh!” You cry out before you’re clenching down around his fingers, your legs giving out on you. Your body twitches as you orgasm, your body sinking down to the ground. Joshua grabs you, holding you in his arms, gently rubbing at your skin while you grasp onto him, trying to ground yourself.

Joshua presses soft kisses to the corner of your eyes and your cheeks as you try and catch your breath. “Are you okay pretty girl?”

You nod. “I’m okay, just took me by surprise.”

“Can we keep going?” Joshua asks you softly and it sets off a warm feeling in your stomach. You’re not sure how someone who made you cum a minute ago can be so soft with you now, but you’re not complaining. You just cup his face and kiss him quickly.

“Yeah. Here, I wanna suck you off. Can I?” You look up at him with wide eyes and his face goes pink for a second.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, you can.”

“Ehem,” Jeonghan says, reminding you and Joshua he’s still there.

“Ah, Hannie,” you turn to the older man, “you can uh, you can fuck me. If you want.”

Jeonghan curses softly. “You sure baby?”

You nod. “I’m sure. Josh loosened me all up. I need your cock in me so badly, please. I just came and I’m still so needy.”

Your words cause Jeonghan to groan and he gets down on the floor to meet you and Joshua. He pulls you in for a kiss, his fingers sliding down against your wet folds. You’re still sensitive down there and you mewl a bit.

“Fuck, you’re gonna let me fuck you nice and hard baby?”

“Yes, yes please,” you nod frantically.

“Help Joshua out first baby, then I’ll fuck you.”

You turn to the younger of the two men. Joshua is sitting back, his cock resting against his toned stomach. You position yourself between his legs on your knees in front of him. You lean down and gently take his tip in your mouth, sucking at the head. Joshua gasps slightly, encouraging you to do more.

You pop your mouth off of him and lick and kiss down his length to his balls. They sit heavy and drooping and you lick and kiss at them as well. You can hear the small grunts Joshua is letting out and you move up to kiss at his tip again.

His cock is thick and you’re not completely sure you’ll be able to get it all in your mouth, but you wrap your lips around the head again. You’re going to try your best no matter what. You run your tongue around the rim of his tip before flattening your tongue and trying to push yourself down further.

Your tongue presses against the underside of his cock as you try and get all of him in your throat. Your lips are stretched tight and you can feel the strain in your jaw. You pull your mouth back before plunging it back down, trying to get down further as you bob your head up and down his length. You can hear the lewd noises of your mouth fill the room as they mix with Joshua’s moans.

You’re so focused on pleasuring Joshua you jump when you feel Jeonghan grasps your hips. Your ass is pushed into the air and you can feel him drag his cock over your slit. He teases you with a few more swipes before he unceremoniously shoves his cock into you. His slender width allows him to push into you easily, especially with how wet you are from Joshua eating you out. You moan as Jeonghan bottoms out, the vibrations going straight into Joshua’s cock.

Joshua reaches out and grabs your head, shoving you down further on his cock, his blunt tip ramming into the back of your throat. Behind you Jeonghan does the same, his own tip hitting your cervix, the slam of skin echoing throughout the room. Joshua has a tight grip on your hair and he guides you up and down his cock, practically face fucking you.

You can’t do much but moan and allow both men to fuck into you like you’re nothing but their desperate cock sleeve. You don’t mind it at all though. You actually kind of love them using you like this. It’s dirty, the way they just shove their cocks into you with no care, but it has your pussy drenched, no matter how embarrassing it is.

Your throat is burning from the way Joshua is using your mouth and your fingers dig into his thighs. Tears are welling up in your eyes a bit and you can’t tell if it’s from choking on Joshua’s cock or the pleasure Jeonghan is giving you by continuously drilling into you.

“F-fuck, Y/N,” comes Joshua’s choked out sob before he’s spilling his seed right down your throat. You gag as you try and swallow it all down but some of it still drips out of your mouth. “Shit Y/N. You look so hot like that. Dirty little girl, taking my cum down her throat.” Joshua reaches up and swipes the rest of his cum off your chin.

Your throat burns and your voice is raw when you try to speak. “J-josh.”

“You were so good for me.” Joshua reaches up and cups your breasts in your hands, kneading at you softly. “You feel good princess?”

“H-hannie, feels so good. W-want more though.”

“More?”

You nod. “Please Shua, fuck me too. Need to be full.”

“Fuck baby,” Jeonghan mutters from behind you. “You want us both in your needy little hole?” He thrusts up into you roughly to help make his point.

“Yes. Need both of you so badly. Please Josh.”

“Shit princess, that’s so slutty, how could I say no,” Joshua smirks at you. “Lean her back Han.”

Jeonghan does as told, leaning back and taking you with him so your cunt is now more exposed to Joshua. Jeonghan’s cock is already buried in you, but due to its slender size it still leaves room for Joshua to slide in. Well slide in isn't exactly the right words. 

You feel Joshua push his tip up against Jeonghan’s cock at the folds of your pussy. He ruts at your entrance for a second before starting to push in. His cock is thick though, and it stretches your pussy wide, your opening burning as it does. If it wasn’t for all of the arousal lubricating Jeonghan’s cock and your cunt, you’re sure Joshua wouldn’t have even been able to get in an inch.

“God you look so pretty like this,” Jeonghan coos. “Our nasty little slut.” 

You choke out a moan at the name and Jeonghan chuckles. In your front, Joshua is still slowly pushing his cock into you bit by bit. After what feels like forever he’s shoved inside of you and you feel like crying from how desperate you are.

“Please move, I need it, please,” you beg, not caring how pathetic you sound.

“What the princess wants is what she gets,” is Joshua’s response before he pulls out only to slam right back into you. You cry out, your fingers finding purchase on Joshua’s shoulders. “God you feel so tight around my cock.” 

Joshua reaches down and grabs your legs, picking you up. Your legs automatically wrap around Joshua’s waist, pulling him closer to you. His cock moves rapidly in you as he matches Jeonghan’s pace. The older of the two’s cock slams deep into you while the younger’s fills you up, satiating your fervent desires.

Your mind is reeling and you can’t focus on anything other than the sheer pleasure coursing through your body. You can feel Jeonghan and Joshua’s mouths and hands all over your body, feeding your hunger for them.

At some poit you realize that your cheeks are wet, tears freely streaming down your face as both men do their best to abuse your cunt.

You let out a strangled gasp when you feel one of Jeonghan’s hands snake around your neck, his other one grasping harshly at your breasts. His fingers close down around your neck, his hot breath brushing your ear. 

“Gonna let me and Josh cum inside you baby? Let us fill up your needy pussy with our seed?”

You whine, high pitched and needy. “Yes. Yes, please. Cum in me, use me however you want.”

“Hear that Shua? Our baby girl wants us to use her like the cumdump she is.” Jeonghan’s fingers are still tight around your neck, making you light headed in the best way possible. 

Instead of responding Joshua just roughly grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth once more and nearly shoves it down your throat. You can barely breathe with Joshua’s mouth over yours and Jeonghan’s hand on your throat but you don’t care. It makes your head fuzzy and all of your senses go crazy to the point that there’s nothing other than Joshua Hong and Yoon Jeonghan.

A shudder runs through your whole body and without much warning your body is trembling as you hit your orgasm. Your pussy clenches down on Jeonghan and Joshua’s cocks, holding them in a vice grip. They both let out twin groans as your body goes limp in their grip, your mind completely blank.

You’re not sure who cums first, but before you know it they’re both spilling their seed into you, filling you up to the brim. You’re still shaking when they pull out, some of their cum spilling out and dripping down your legs. Slowly Joshua lowers you to the floor.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/N-ah,” Jeonghan says in a soft voice. “All fucked out like a cock drunk whore.”

Your body is exhausted and you want nothing more than to rest, but then you feel Jeonghan’s fingers trailing against your puffy folds. You mewl out when you feel his fingers insert into you, shoving his and Joshua’s cum back into you.

“Can’t let it go to waste, can we?” He says with a smirk.

Your whole body is overstimulated and just having his fingers in you sends your twitching. Your fingers grasp at air and you whine.

“Shh, be a good girl for us. Can’t you do that pretty girl?” Joshua asks as he runs his hands up and down your warm skin. He stops at your tits, kneading them softly before flicking your sensitive nipples.

“J-josh, H-hannie!” You cry out. Jeonghan’s fingers are now moving rapidly inside of you, your walls fluttering as your body screams at you. 

Your eyes screw shut and your back arches as you reach your release once more. You can feel the liquid spray out of you, drenching your legs and Jeonghan’s hand. It seems to go on forever before your body is falling limp to the ground once more.

“Oh god princess, that was so hot,” Joshua says, a bit breathless. Jeonghan pulls his fingers from you satisfied with his work.

Your body is completely boneless as you lay on the ground, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes are closed and you think you may never get up ever again.

You’re not sure how long you lay there as Joshua and Jeonghan move around, cleaning up the mess you made and rubbing at your sore body. When you finally get some semblance of feeling human again you open your eyes and sit up.

“Hey baby,” Jeonghan says to you in a soft voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you sigh, “very good.”

“Sorry we kind of went in hard there at the end,” Joshua says. He caresses your face with his hand. 

“I asked for it. I liked it,” you admit. “Thank you, you two.” 

“You’re thanking us?” Joshua laughs a big incredulously. “That was like a dream for me.”

Now with the ability to think again you glance around and realize you’re still on the floor, of the gym, covered in cum and sweat. 

“Ugh, I feel so gross. This is so gross, these floors are filthy,” you groan.

Jeonghan snorts. “Come on, we can go clean up in the locker room.”

“Round two in the showers?” Joshua shoots you and Jeonghan a mischievous look that Jeonghan sends back. You groan again.

“You two may have the stamina, but I certainly do not,” you state, knowing damn well that you’re going to let them fuck you again in the shower.

The boys are quiet for a moment as you three walk to the shower before Joshua finally pipes up. “So does this mean you choose us both?”

“Yeah,” you smile at them, “I choose you both…if you both still want me.”

“Of course! I’m not going to let him stop me from having you,” Jeonghan says.

“Even if you have to share?” You ask.

“Yeah, I’ll just be the better boyfriend,” Jeonghan proclaims proudly.

“Hey! I’m going to be the best boyfriend Y/Nnie can have!” Joshua shoves the other boxer’s shoulder. This sets off an argument between your two new boyfriends and you roll your eyes before turning on the shower.

The least you can say is that your relationship definitely won’t be a boring one.

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[misguidedghostie]

breakthrough!

realized the reason I’ve been so stuck on my wip is because of a character who has been weaseling his way out of my original plan for him.

he needs to die for the story to progress, but he’s so fun to write that I’ve been trying to wrangle the story into a shape where he doesn’t have to, and it just isn’t working

[scnderlands]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THREE’S A CROWD — black noir + homelander

PAIRINGS — black noir x female reader x homelander

CONTENT WARNINGS / TAGS — 18+ ONLY NSFW + DARK CONTENT , threesome , dubcon , anal , p in v , slight anal fingering , forced kissing , hair pulling , noncon voyeurism ,

KAI’S THOUGHTS — so I’ve had this written in my drafts for awhile and finally decided to post it, I wrote it one night with a lot of THOUGHTS and just how bad I need these two !! wrote with season 2-3 in mind !

You and Black Noir had a thing for a few months now, and as much as you wanted it to be a secret, you knew it wasn’t. There wasn’t much that you could keep to yourself while working at Vought, no matter how much you tried — someone always knew something about someone, it was just the way things were.

Anytime you and he wanted to meet up, he always came over to your place, somehow scaling up to come in through your apartment window like it was nothing. You weren’t sure how it ended up being that you were friends with benefits, after one time where you argued (very one-sidedly) you ended up hate fucking — now it’s just a regular thing, a few times a week.

For the first time since you began hooking up, you were in Black Noir’s room, and he wasted no time throwing you on the bed and fucking the life out of you. There was no exact communication to what had made him feel this way, but he’d just come back from being sent somewhere so you guessed he just had a lot of pent up energy.

His hand covered your mouth as he pounded into you, a feeble attempt to quieten you down, to stop anyone from hearing. He knew there was no point, after all Homelander had superhuman hearing, and it wouldn’t surprise Noir if he was in his room listening down to you getting fucked. Black Noir could tell Homelander had a thing for you, the way he watched you when you were working, the little smirk he’d pull when you bent down, how often he’d go out of his way to talk to you — he wasn’t subtle, but you still had no clue.

Noir had his masked face buried in the crook of your neck, his hips moving into you at a steady pace, getting as deep as he could into you with each thrust. You had your eyes closed and your hands white-knuckled on his shoulders, muffled moans behind his hand.

Noir suddenly stopped all his movements and you felt him shift away from you.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Homelander stood not too far from the bed, his voice was stern, almost demanding.

“Homelander…” you stared at him wide-eyed, your hands instantly moving from Noir’s shoulders and over your bare chest.

Homelander didn’t move at all except for cocking his head slightly to the side, that usual look of anger stricken across his face, it was obvious he was upset that all the action had stopped after he made an effort to get in the room to see it.

“Noir, move.”

Every muscle in Noir’s body tense up while still on top of you, even without being able to see his face through his mask, you could practically see the anger coming from him. Even though, with every fibre of his being, he didn’t want to move, but nonetheless he obeyed. He knew better than to get on the wrong side of Homelander, especially when you were here and could be put in danger because of a decision he makes.

Black Noir shuffled off you and dropped beside you, making an effort to cover you as subtly as he could with the blanket before doing so. But it didn’t take Homelander a second of thought to rip the blanket from the bed and throw it halfway across the room, leaving your naked body fully exposed to his gaze. His eyes scanned your body with a gleeful look, and when you went to squeeze your legs shut, he responded by waggling his finger side to side, letting out a tut as he did so.

“Perfect…” he smiled to himself, seemingly proud of his work, “now Noir, get under her, I want to see you fucking her while she’s looking at me.”

“W-what?” You felt a wave of embarrassment and fear consume your entire body in an instant.

Noir looked over to you, some part of him wishing for some guidance from you, but he knew that wasn’t fair — after all, not even he was standing up to Homelander in the moment, so how could he expect you to do anything as a normal human?

Without wasting anymore time, he slid under you and pulled you back so you were flush against his chest.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Homelander stood with his arms across his chest, an impatient tap of his foot echoing around the large room.

With an internal sigh, Black Noir realigned himself with your slick hole, slowly pushing himself into you until he couldn’t move anymore, then slowly moving his hips back away from you.

Through half-lidded eyes you could see how Homelander smiled to himself, how much he was enjoying watching the way your cunt gripped around Noir’s cock, your slick dripping down your ass and creating a mess between you and Noir’s suit. It was obvious when he started enjoying it too much, his bulge growing more and more obvious behind his tight pants.

“F-fuck, Noir.” Your back arched up and you couldn’t suppress your moans any longer.

“No.” Your pleas were interrupted nearly as quick as they left your parted lips, “You’ll moan my name, not his.”

And yet again you could feel how Noir tensed up underneath you, that wave of anger spreading through his body with a near visceral action. You slyly reached your hand to your hip and placed it over the top of Noir’s, intertwining your fingers with his.

Noir kept his hips moving against all wants, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot deep inside of you, constantly forcing pretty little moans from you.

“Yeah, just like that…” Homelander laughed as he pumped his cock in his hand, unable to just stand still and watch, he was so hard it tittered on painful.

Noir despised the idea of Homelander seeing you so vulnerable, in such a position that he put you in by dragging you into this room rather than just waiting a couple hours to visit you at your place. There was perhaps a sense of jealously that washed over him, a need to gloat, some primal instinct that made him want to prove his claim over you — to have Homelander know that even though he was watching, he wasn’t the one touching you, wasn’t the one making you moan like that even if it were his name rolling from your tongue.

He brought his gloved finger to your clit, rubbing fast and rough circles over and over as his hips hammered into you, forcing you over the edge he knew you were so close to.

“Noi—…Homelander, fuck.”

That was his tipping point, hearing his name from your lips was the end of him, the end of watching and not doing, “turn her over.”

Black Noir pulled out and you groaned from the emptiness, he carefully flipped you around so your chest was pressed firmly against his. As soon as he had your legs spread either side of his body, you felt the weight on the bottom of the bed shift from were Homelander was kneeling on it. His hands ghosted over the fat of your ass before finally grabbing it, groping and kneading like he’d been waiting forever to do.

He wet his finger and slowly pushed it in to you, barely moving at first as if to test the waters, and when you didn’t seem too effected he finally moved again. A part of you hated feeling him touch you, his fingers pushing in and out, but there was something in the thought of having both their cocks inside of you at once — the way they’d both fill you up so well, stretching you out in ways you never had been before.

Homelander moved his fingers in rhythm with the way Noir fucked into you, and even though he was desperate to feel you around his cock he knew better than to try and fuck you before warming you up — after all, he knew how pathetically delicate and fragile humans were.

The sounds of your moans mixed with the sound of your cunt was becoming too much for him, his cock left untouched and desperate from friction was unbearable for him. And at this point he didn’t care whether you could be prepared more or not. Homelander spat on his hand as rubbed it up and down his cock, a poor attempt at some form of lubrication before lining himself up with your ass.

“Wait, w-wait.” You whimpered out as he slowly bullied his way into you, stretching you out in a way that took your breath away until he bottomed out.

For a moment he stayed still, allowing you a moment to adjust to the intrusion, but the more he could feel Noir moving, the more riled up he became.

Black Noir wasn’t happy about the idea of Homelander fucking you too, and you were too high with pleasure to even care anymore. Homelander on the other hand had a secret point to prove, he wanted you to know he could fuck you better than Noir could, better than any man could for that matter of fact.

As much as he hated the idea of having a crush, he couldn’t deny it to himself any longer. You plagued his thoughts day and night, daydreaming of fucking you when he was in a boring meeting or some stupid talk he had to give — even getting to the point he’d be having wet dreams about you, and how he’d have to fuck his hand when he woke up, all while fantasising about you.

“Fuck…” Homelander groaned to himself as he felt you twitching around him, another orgasm about to rip through you while both their cocks slammed into you at the same time.

The faster they got, the louder you moaned, and the more worried you became about someone else hearing you. But neither of the men cared, instead they were having some silent competition between themselves about who could make you cum the hardest, and they both had a point to make — just so happens you were their referee.

“I—I c-can’t,” your nails dug into Noir’s suit, your head buried in the crook of his neck.

Anger flowed through Homelander as he watched the way you gripped and snuggled into him, how you were moaning in his ear. It wasn’t fair, Homelander knew he should be the one under you, the one you leaned on and begged to let you cum.

“Come here,” Homelander grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back, forcing your head to the side just enough for him to lock lips with you.

The kisses were sloppy and breathy, you could barely formulate a thought and it made it near impossible to kiss him properly. He didn’t care though, he was just happy to finally kiss you, to have his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth while he was balls deep inside of you. He stared down towards Noir, a hint of smugness in his eyes while he continued to kiss you.

It pained Noir to see Homelander doing the one thing he’s never done, and probably never would do, and Homelander knew that. But it only fueled the fire of their feud even more, and Noir slowly trailed his hands up your body before stopping at your tits, his rough gloved fingers tracing over your hardened nipples. You groaned into the kiss and twitched into Noir’s grasp more as he rubbed and teased at you.

Even though he might not be able to kiss you yet, he knew everything you liked, he knew how to please you in ways that Homelander couldn’t even imagine.

“You’re so fucking filthy. You know that, huh?” Homelander hissed at you as his hips stuttered slightly, but he was going to hold out as long as he could.

Tears beaded in your eyes as another orgasm shook through you, the overstimulation becoming almost too much for you to handle anymore. The feeling of your cunt clenching around Noir was too much, his rhythm becoming sloppy and uneven as he finally finished, making sure to cum deep inside your pretty little pussy as he did.

Homelander chuckled as Noir finished, somehow he felt triumphant, as if he won the battle between them by lasting longer.

Noir stayed inside of you, his hands still roaming your body and pleasuring you in other ways, not wanting to leave you with just Homelander.

“Moan my name.”

“Home…lander—“ you could barely get your words out as he pulled tighter on your hair, forcing your head further back so he could see your face.

After hearing his name a few more times, it sent him over the edge. His hips juttering and his cum coating your insides, his entire body quivered which made him practically land on you as he rolled off to the side.

There was a slight relief and sadness at the emptiness when they both slid out of you, and you fell back down against Noir. His hand ran up and down your back, while Homelander stared up at the ceiling, trying to regain control of his breathing.

“Well, that was a surprise, wouldn’t you say?” Homelander looked over to you with a shit eating grin, “we should do it again.”

[laurenairay]

felt like magic - N. Hischier

Summary: Nico has been pining for years – maybe this summer is a chance to finally do something about his feelings for you.

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2k24, with a Nico Hischier story for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten! I really hope you enjoy this – I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me. And who doesn’t love Summer Nico?

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: pining, childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, some bad language

Title (and song lyrics) from Caffeine, by Jack Kays

~

Stay with me, If it’s not our time then will you wait for me? I know that we’re young, but this is destiny I couldn’t be me without you, without you

~

Travelling from Bern to Zurich wasn’t something you’d do for just anyone. An hour and a half driving across the country, surrounded by drivers who were just as impatient to get through their journeys as you were? Not your idea of fun. At least the destination was more than worth it.

“Happy birthday Jonas!”

The man in question turned around at the sound of your voice, a big grin sliding onto his face.

“You made it, liebling! Thanks for coming!” Jonas said happily.

It wasn’t every year that you got to celebrate the birthday of one of your favourite people – early May wasn’t exactly the most consistent time of year for hockey players after all. And the last thing you wanted to do was remind him of the early end to his season. So when Jonas had called you to say that he was hosting a birthday party at his house in Zurich and invited you to spend the weekend, there was no way you were saying no.

“As if I’d miss the event of the summer,” you teased.

Jonas just beamed at you.

“Schatzi! You survived the A1!”

You peered around Jonas’s broad shoulders to see another one of your favourite people – Nico. It was through Nico, one of your childhood best friends – that you’d met Jonas in the first place so you should’ve guessed that he wouldn’t be too far away. Usually you would’ve made the journey with Nico, both of you coming from Bern after all, but he’d already been visiting in Zurich so you’d been stuck with a solo trip this time.

And damn did he look good. It wasn’t something that you let yourself think about often, being just his friend, but Nico was genuinely one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen, let alone become good friends with. It wouldn’t do you any good to travel down that road of thoughts though, so you were always careful to nip those feelings in the bud. You were friends. Great friends. Incredible friends, and that’s how it was always going to be.

“I’m here,” you mused, “had to greet the birthday boy before anyone else.”

“Yeah don’t be jealous,” Jonas teased.

Interestingly, Nico blushed slightly and glared at the taller man, before clearing his throat. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll grab something myself in a minute, but thank you,” you said, smiling sweetly, “Let me just give Jonas his birthday present first.”

You handed over the thick envelope, Jonas eagerly ripping into it, making you laugh softly.

“Oh shit, you’re the best,” Jonas gasped.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased.

“What did you get?” Nico asked, curious.

“A tattoo voucher. Far more than enough to cover the gap fillers I’ve been looking at getting. This is amazing, thank you, this is way too generous,” Jonas explained, looking gratefully at you.

“You’re welcome. I know you’ve been talking about filling the spaces for a while,” you shrugged.

While you didn’t have any tattoos of your own, you knew how Nico and Jonas felt about their own tattoos, and how much they meant to them – it was an easy decision.

“Are we ever going to get you into a tattoo chair, hm?” Nico teased.

“Maybe if I have someone holding my hand,” you teased back, trying to fight the giddy heat rising to your cheeks.

His lips parted slightly in shock, speechless for once, Jonas just cackling at his response.

“And on that note, I’m going to go say hi to Andreas and Julia. See you both later?” you grinned.

“Yeah, see you liebling,” Jonas nodded.

Nico just nodded, cheeks aflame. His silence was a bit concerning – he wasn’t exactly one to be shy or awkward, especially not around you – but you knew Jonas would figure out whatever was going on with him. Hopefully.

~

“So that was smooth,” Jonas mused.

“Shut up,” Nico groaned.

“No really, that was one of your best efforts,” Jonas snickered.

“You’re the worst,” Nico shot back.

He ran a hand through his hair, watching you walk across the backyard with a confidence he wished he had. There was just something about you that had always reduced him to feeling like a hapless fool, ever since he’d first moved to Bern as a teenager and met you within the first few weeks of living there. You’d been a constant feature in his life for 10 years now, always there with a wide smile and open arms whether it was in Bern, Zurich, or New Jersey, and he didn’t know what he would do with his life if you weren’t in it.

Nico was head over heels in love with you, and you had no idea.

Everyone else in his life knew how he felt for you, obviously, not just Jonas. His parents, his siblings, even Jack had figured it out within an hour of your first visit to New Jersey all those years ago. If Jack Hughes of all people could read it off his face then he didn’t know how much more obvious he could be – other than actually telling you with words, of course.

But how could he say anything to you, when he knew for certain that you didn’t feel the same way?

~

“Are you sure your billet family don’t mind us being down here?”

Nico smiled down at you, shaking his head. The two of you were down in the basement where his billet family’s entertainment room was, the rest of the house having gone out for the night, and Nico had invited you round for a movie night. He’d only been in Bern for a few weeks, and you were the only non-hockey friend he’d made so far, so he hadn’t hesitated to invite you over to get to know you better.

There was just something about you that made him want to put in the effort

“They really don’t mind. They even left us money for takeout,” he insisted.

“Oh, well alright then. What are we watching first?”

The evening flew by, pizza ravenously consumed between movies, the two of you shifting closer and closer on the sofa until you were fully leaning up against each other, Nico’s hockey bulk giving you a solid pillow to rest on. He didn’t mind it at all, if he was being honest with himself, although he wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“That was so terrible though! They had no chemistry at all!” you giggled as the credits rolled.

“I guess not all actors are going to like kissing everyone they work with,” Nico snickered.

Even in the dim light of the room, he noticed the heat that rushed to your cheeks.

“What?” Nico frowned.

“It’s nothing,” you said, shaking your head quickly.

He might not know you that well yet, but he knew that was a lie.

“Come on, tell me what’s wrong?” he prompted.

“You’re going to think I’m stupid.”

“We’re 15 years old – everything we do is stupid,” Nico pointed out.

You huffed out a laugh, breath a little shaky. “I was just thinking about the fact that I wouldn’t know what it was like.”

“What what was like?” Nico asked, confused.

“To kiss someone,” you all but whispered.

His lips parted in surprise, not expecting those words to fall from your lips, and you immediately grimaced.

“See I told you it was stupid,” you groaned.

As you shifted to move away from him, Nico instinctively gripped your shoulder, not letting you go. You startled but looked up at him, staying silent in confusion.

“It’s not stupid. Not everyone has had their first kiss. You’re only 15,” he murmured.

“You’ve kissed someone though?”

Nico bit his bottom lip but nodded. He’d had multiple kisses, all harmless, all essentially meaningless, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kissing was fun – he always liked the way it made his heart race with adrenaline.

And it was the memory of that feeling that fuelled his bravery.

“I could kiss you, if you want?”

“What?”

He took a steadying breath, before nodding. “I could kiss you. So you have a good first kiss, with a friend.”

There was nothing worse than doing something scary for the first time only to have someone make you feel like an idiot. If Nico could stop that feeling for you, then he absolutely would.

“Are you sure?” you said hesitantly, “You really don’t have to.”

“Of course I am,” he said, smiling to reassure you.

He could feel how fast your heart was beating as he rested a hand on the side of your neck, echoing the beating of his own heart. You closed your eyes as he leaned down towards you, making him smile slightly before he pressed his lips to yours. As he slowly kissed you, he could feel how hesitant and nervous you were, but as you continued to kiss him back he didn’t regret his offer for a moment. Nico kissed you over and over and over again, almost feeling dizzy with how the embrace was consuming him, his thumb stroking over your jaw as you melted into his arms. This was heaven. This was bliss. This was everything he didn’t realise he’d wanted.

After what felt like hours, but could only have been a few moments, you pulled away from the kiss. Nico made a soft noise of protest, opening his eyes to see you looking stunned, lips as swollen as his felt.

“Schatzi,” he managed to murmur.

You just bit your bottom lip, smiling softly, before leaning backwards out of his hands. He tried not to frown, not understanding why his heart was pounding, even though you didn’t look mad.

“I should probably get home. My parents will be wondering where I am by now,” you said, voice quiet, almost as if you were still a little in shock.

Nico glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing at the late hour. Where had the time gone? Did you really have to leave, after a kiss like that?

“O-Okay, if you’re sure. Text me when you get back safe?”

“I will. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

~

After that kiss 10 years ago, the two of you had never spoken about it again. The morning after you’d acted like nothing had ever happened, and Nico had been too nervous to say anything to risk losing the blossoming friendship. He knew now that it was his first experience of heartbreak, as youthful and innocent as that had been – and he also knew that’s when he’d first started having feelings for you. What was meant to have been a friend helping out another friend had started a decade of unrequited feelings, and it was far too late for him to say anything now.

He could only hold on to the incredible friendship that had grown between the two of you with both hands. If this was all he could ever have then he was going to cherish it, no matter how what Jonas said.

“Come on bud, let’s get you a drink,” Jonas said, smiling sadly.

Nico huffed out a laugh but nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m going to need one.”

~

Hours passed by, drinking, eating, catching up with friends and making new ones, until the evening was late and only the last few straggling partygoers were making their way out of the house. You’d volunteered to start cleaning up while Jonas said goodbye to his guests, needing something to do after a long day of socialising. You were making good progress on cleaning up the empty food containers and empty drink bottles when Nico wandered into the living room, holding out a bottle of water for you.

“Looks like thirsty work,” he grinned, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Thanks, you should try it some time,” you teased, taking the bottle from him.

You unscrewed the cap and took a couple of long gulps with your head tilted back, needing the refreshment more than you thought, but when you put the cap back on the bottle, you noticed Nico staring at you transfixed.

“What?” you frowned, “Did I spill some water?”

“No, no, it isn’t that,” he said quickly, cheeks heating.

Why was he blushing? What was going through his mind?

“Then what is it?” you prompted, putting the bottle down on the table.

“It’s just…I was thinking about…well…”

“Yes?” you prompted again, a soft smile on your face at his awkwardness.

“It wouldn’t take a tattoo for me to hold your hand,” he blurted out.

“What?”

What was he talking about…oh. Oh. What?

“Wait, shit, no, that came out wrong…”

Nico trailed off with a groan, punctuated only by the sound of a snort. You whirled around to see Jonas standing in the doorway, and he cackled at the look on both your faces.

“Yeah I’m going upstairs. Have fun dealing with your years of feelings,” Jonas grinned, shaking his head.

Oh damn. Jonas knew?

Wait, years of feelings?

With that he left you and Nico alone, a murmur suspiciously sounding like ‘lovestruck idiots’ lingering behind him. Hesitantly you looked back at Nico to see his face full of embarrassment, cheeks tinged with red.

“What was Jonas talking about?” you asked, voice a little shaky.

Because you were damn sure that Jonas didn’t know a thing about how you felt for Nico. So he had to be talking about Nico…which only succeeded in sending your heart into a flutter.

“This was not how I wanted it all to come out,” he murmured.

“Nico, please. No more talking in circles,” you all but begged.

He inhaled shakily but nodded, finally looking you in the eyes once more. “I’ve loved you ever since the movie night where we kissed.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “That was 10 years ago, Nico. We were 15! You’ve loved me since then?”

Ten long years.

“I know,” he winced, “But yes, since then.”

“You never said anything?” you said hesitantly.

Not about the kiss, and not about his feelings.

“You didn’t either? I mean, like, we never talked about the kiss. At all. I just assumed you didn’t say anything because you regretted it, and there was no way I wanted to lose you as a friend,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Of all the things he could’ve said.

“I thought you regretted it,” you admitted, “You were this up-and-coming hockey star, and I was just the neighbour down the street.”

Nico burst out laughing, hands rising to cover his face briefly.

“We’re both idiots,” he managed to choke out between laughs, “maybe me more than you.”

Maybe.

Maybe you both were idiots, but that didn’t mean you had to waste any more time. If Nico really wanted to try being more than friends, you weren’t about to stop him.

“Hey Nico?” you said, reaching forward to place a hand on his chest.

You could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt, the rapid beat of his heart, but it was the hope in his eyes that gave you courage.

“Yes, schatzi?”

“It’s been a long ten years…kiss me again?”

Nico’s only response was to do as you’d asked.

~

I’m sitting patiently, Hoping for the day to come where you can see, All the stars, they fall in line for you and me, I can’t wait for you to see too, yes, you’ll do.

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Eddie's month began with a rough start, but as the days passed, and your time together grew, his mood improved. He opened up to you, and you listened. Then things escalated. Slow dancing in the garage? Openly flirting while hanging Christmas decorations? This wasn't what he was supposed to be doing with his coworker who was leaving in a few months. And to make matters worse..

"I swear I didn't hang that," he promised while Adrie held both your hands, giggling under the mistletoe.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, mild sexual tension, light angst, depictions of poverty, mention of blood, reader wears eddie's work jacket, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 6/20 [wc: 16k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 6: May I Have This Dance?

Eddie opened the cabinet above the coffee machine in the breakroom, and took out his mug to replace it with a themed one of Garfield attempting to coax Nermal under a sprig of mistletoe for a kiss. He stepped back, admired the change in seasons, and clung onto the giddy elation before the impending stress wove knots into his muscles.

He’d be getting a lot of use out of that mug in the coming days..

————

Eddie disguised his crisis well.

He knocked on your desk while keeping the glass door open with his foot, “Hey, can you make me another pot of coffee?”

It was a favor you were happy to oblige. Pausing from thumbing through the filing cabinet, you smiled at him over your shoulder. “Sure!”

And later, he came to you again–diverting the stress from entering his eyes by focusing on the kindness in yours.

“Do you mind if I eat alone today?” he asked, flopping his black notebook back and forth for you to frown at.

“Fine, but you owe me.” And of course, he made it up to you the next afternoon, eating his sandwich made with the scraggy ends of the loaf, and no side container of leftovers, and downing it with a mug of coffee.

Adding onto that, Eddie concealed his problems through other means. Blocking out his suffering, disallowing it from bothering others, but to you, it was no bother.

You leaned over your desk to look into the garage, and asked Mr. Moore when he was passing by on the way to his office, “Did Eddie leave somewhere?”

“Awh, he’s probably out on a smoke break,” he said, rubbing his knuckles along his grayed beard.

“Another one?”

“Yeah, guess so.” He shrugged, inadvertently confirming your fears. “Been takin’ alottavem the past couple’a days.”

You had an inkling of what was going on when you caught Eddie eating his lunch earlier. Alone, scribbling in his notebook for the third time that week, dipping a knife into an unbranded metal can labeled PEANUT BUTTER and slathering the Government supplied commodity on a plain saltine cracker.

Sustenance to live, and hardly at that. You weren’t about to let him hide his misery behind excuses meant to keep you ignorant.

After closing, when everyone went home but you and Eddie, he poured himself the last of the coffee to stave off his hunger, and you shot up from your desk.

“Hey! I’m going out for a sec. I’ll be right back, ‘kay?”

He backed his lips off the mug mid-sip in order to remind you to be safe because it was dark out, and you really should wear brighter colors for cars to see you, and to slow down before the sharp turns because there could ice on the road and you could get hurt, and, and–

“Bye!” You cut off his worrying by riding past the doors with your eyes on him, not where you were going, narrowly missing a street pole by centimeters.

~~~

Back in record time–beating the previous record by default because you’d never had this idea before–you hopped off your bike, loaded your hands with the two paper bags sitting in the handlebar basket, and ripped the stapled receipt off them. You finagled your way into the garage.

“Eddie!” you shouted his name as you entered. And louder again as you approached him from behind. Tempting as it was, you didn’t want to scare him, but part of you hated raising your voice, as well. It felt blasphemous to disturb the scene which captured your heart time and time again.

He was at the workbench in the back corner, sat on a stool with his heavy boots on footrests, knees angled out, bouncing his legs in a rhythm offset from one another–most likely parroting the drumbeat of the tinny music funneling from his headphones so loud he’d surely lose his hearing one day.

The smooth expanse of his shoulder shifted and flowed under his coveralls as he worked, hunched over a set of parts he was cleaning. He settled his forearms on the edge of the creaky wood and swirled an old toothbrush into a bowl of cleaning solution, and scrubbed at the hunk of metal in his hands, setting it aside on the stained towel when he was finished to let it dry. A diligent worker, through and through. Tendons in his tired hands straining to hold the next slippery piece as he circled the bristles over the grooves craggy with grease. Muscles in his jaw tensing from the way he clenched his teeth in between mouthing the lyrics to the music vibrating his brain.

Concentration bundled itself between his eyebrows and above his scrunched nose.

It was endearing to watch him work; watch the menial things he was good at for no other reason than to familiarize yourself with all assets of him.

But good things must come to an end, for you had a better one in store.

You caught him right as he was dropping into a reserved headbang on a chord progression you could hear wailing from where you stood. “Hey there, handsome.”

He panicked, and knocked the headphones around the back of his neck. “Shit, I didn’t hear you come in.” He paused the cassette player clipped to his pocket with a sharp click, and after fixating on your sly grin for a second longer, he dropped his gaze to the oil-soaked paper bag in your hand. “Food?”

“The burger place down the street messed up my order,” you replied in soft amusement. “Do you want the extra?”

He didn’t need convincing.

~~~

The sounds of your togetherness filled the open room–wheels rolling on concrete, crinkly wrappers in your hands, and the grateful noises of him devouring his dinner. Sitting parallel to one another on the creepers, you rolled back and forth, brushing shoulders with Eddie on each pass, stuffing your faces until your taste buds dulled with french fry oil, and sparked with blooms of tangy ketchup.

Wordlessly, he told you he was ready to talk by coming to a stop past the point of your shoulders touching, and resting his arms atop his wide-spread knees, holding the last bites of his burger in front of his face.

You twisted around to observe the width of his back rise with a deep breath.

“Child support is late again. Happens every December, but it’ll come a day or two before it’s officially considered late in January.” Deepening his voice, he put an edge of distaste when speaking about Adrie’s mom, “She has the money–her and her husband have good jobs–so it’s just to be petty and get back at me, or whatever. Like being tied to me years later should affect our kid when I don’t even speak to her.”

“Eddie..”

He shook his head to dismiss the pointless pity imbued in your tender whisper of his name. “Doesn’t matter. Money’s tight, but we get paid tomorrow, so that’ll help.. I figured you knew something was up when I stopped eating with you, but anywhere I can save helps. I want to make sure Adrie has a good Christmas this year.”

Realizing something, he raised his hand to ward off any criticism you were about to give him, having been trained to expect it from others since his daughter was an infant. “I want to make it clear.. Adrie always has food,” he stated slowly, and from a place of loathsome apprehension in his chest.

“It never crossed my mind she wouldn’t.” You pushed yourself backwards on the rolly board, and leaned into him, bicep to bicep, gazes met. “I know you’re a good dad” –He glanced away– “You are, Eddie, and I know how well you take care of Adrie, even when shit like this happens. And Christmas will always be special because of how much you love her, not because of what you buy her.”

“But I want her to keep up with her friends, and bond over whatever they’re into.”

“I know you do..”

Even to his detriment, through the sacrifices he made, he’d make sure his daughter had whatever she wanted.

You ran a purposeful knuckle along his tensed tricep. It didn’t earn his eye contact, but he did relax his hand, dropping it to peel down the rest of the wrapper and finish his burger while you spoke. “Maybe they’ll mess up my order again tomorrow, and we can eat lunch together.. And maybe Robin’s mom will make an extra casserole for dinner tonight, and I can leave it in the breakroom, if that’s okay?”

“I’d appreciate it.” No malicious pride. No toxic masculinity. No senseless denial. Eddie accepted your offer with gratitude, and packed his trash into the paper bag while you still ate, settling in with his arms hugged around his knees, ensuring some part of your bodies remained touching–in this case, it was your shoulders again.

The sweet, trusting pressure of yourselves melding into each other’s comfort.

Then, while the candidness was raw, it was your turn to point your attention elsewhere as you asked something you were shy to voice out loud, “Uhm, when we were at Adrie’s school, her teacher kept saying something about, like, you not carrying her, and babying her, or whatever.” You gestured vaguely as if you weren’t eavesdropping the entire time. “And I’d been meaning to ask if I’m–uh?–too affectionate with her? Like if it’s weird, or something I shouldn’t be doing? You’re the parent and I never really asked if it was okay before picking her up, and hugging her, and–”

He cut you off.

“No, no, no.” His assurance was delivered swift, and earnest. “How you are with Adrie is fine by me. More than fine. It’s–It’s–Seriously, it’s great having her look up to someone who isn’t me.”

“What about what her teacher said?”

“I don’t care,” he scoffed. “I know she means well, but it’s not like Adrie’s going to be a kid forever, and if I want to coddle her, who gives a shit. Now, her teacher is great, and I don’t want to diminish what my uncle, and people like Steve and Nancy have done for my family, but for most of Adrie’s life, it’s just been me and her, and even if she annoys the living fuck out of me sometimes, she’s all I have, and if I want to carry her around, I will.”

“You have me now, too.”

You heard yourself say it.

You heard yourself say it aloud, after he said his daughter was all he had, and now you had to follow it up with a tongue-tied spew of clarifications.

“Just, you know, it’s not only you, Adrie, your uncle, Steve and Nancy, and her teacher. You have me now, too, as your friend.. I mean, we are friends, aren’t we?”

Warmth spread through your body. From your ribs, outward, where he jabbed his elbow into your side. Thrumming where his weight pressed into you, sending his hip into yours. Pleasure–blooming–from his silly grin to your romantic heart, to your platonic fingers snagging the fabric of his coveralls around his thigh to stop him from shoving your board away. Yearning. Sprung from the grease dirtying your skin being the same as the black streak above his eyebrow where he wiped his bangs off his forehead.

“Yeah.. Yeah, I think after this, you’re my friend,” he agreed, accidentally kicking over the takeout bag in his teasing. “No qualifier of reluctancy, or addendums, or prefaces. We’re friends.”

Yeah, definitely friends.

Friends who could calculate the exact degree of the arc of the other’s smile through memory alone, having stared at their lips for longer than friends ought.

————

And you played the part of companion quite well, you thought, when Eddie cursed as he came in from the garage with his hand cradled to his chest.

He ducked into the bathroom, and before the door closed, he was pushing it open on his way to the breakroom sink. “Shit. Don’t we have a first aid kit?” he asked.

“Oh! I left it in the women’s restroom after I got a paper cut.” You pushed yourself away from your desk, and found it in the cabinetry, bringing it to him as he scrubbed Dawn soap over his left hand, from upper wrist to fingertips. “Is it bad?” you asked cautiously. Blood was.. fine. But anything needing stitches was more than your red zipper pouch could help with.

“I’m okay,” he grunted, voice deep with the resonance of an inconvenience, more so than true pain. “Just one of those shitty surface cuts that doesn’t stop bleeding.”

The moment Eddie’s hands were dripping with diluted red water instead of blackened motor oil droplets, you tore a paper towel from the roll, cupped his palm, and folded it over his pinky and outermost knuckles. You bent over to keep his hand over the sink, and accepted the sharp jut of his elbow tucked into the softness of your waist.

The scrapes were shallow, as he said. You pressed your thumbs over the superficial wounds until the white paper dotted bright crimson–same color as his cheeks–and he remained silent. He didn’t deny your doting. Didn’t disrupt the gesture, nor break the spell.

It was a nice moment. Until you opened an alcohol wipe and swabbed it over the afflicted area. His mouth twitched at the stinging liquid cooling on his skin. As it dried, you made brief eye contact and shied away from his suspicious squint, like you had a secret to tell him sealed behind your lips all morning.

“What’s that look for?”

While pulling out two beige bandages for his knuckles, you answered in feigned indifference, “Oh, nothing. Just.. y’know.. Mr. Moore promoted me to Office Administrator, and maybe it came with a little raise, and who knows, an extra sick day or two.”

“Nice!” He angled his hand so it was easier for you to wrap the Band-aid around to the side of his palm where there was a wet, angry cut. He was trembling from the rush of adrenaline, endorphins, and relief he didn’t get more injured from his strained muscles giving out while wielding a power tool without protective gloves on.

“So now I have the confusing job of being both the person who cleans the toilets, and also organizes payroll.” You drew your eyebrows in. “Whatever organizing payroll means.”

Eddie watched you turn over the pouch to shake out the slots where the more grown up, adult bandages usually resided, and came up empty. Instead, a metal tin with Sesame Street characters clattered on the countertop. You popped it open.

“Hope you don’t mind,” you said.

Cookie Monster and Big Bird were gingerly wrapped around his pinky, protecting him from further harm.

Bright, cheery colors in contrast to the grime nestled into the crevices of his skin, and the dark blue coveralls he wore today. Your delicate touch. And his rough calluses. Your soft, chapstick-slick lips. And his cold-weathered mouth lifted at the corner. Your obedient body turning with his. And his face drawing near. Your tender, weak grip on his injured hand. And his sneaky fingers reaching past you.

He took three extra Band-aids and put them in the pocket below his embroidered name patch.

Eyelashes fluttering at the sensation of your forearm resting against his stomach, you chided him in the faintest exhale, “That’s stealing from the company, you know. I could write you up.”

Pleading with you amidst a persuasive smile, he begged, “If Adrie sees I have a cool Band-aid, and she doesn’t get one too, she’ll be upset.”

“That’s not fair.” Not like you cared if he took things from work, but if the Band-aids were for Adrie, you’d give him the entire tin, and he knew it. “You play a mean game, Eddie, using my greatest weakness against me.”

He took another Bert and Ernie, and slipped them in with the others, patting his pocket flat.

In a defeated sigh, you crumbled under the smug display of his proud chest, gaze trained on the cursive lettering composing his name, the motor oil blackening his cuticles, and the grease stain on his coveralls from the french fry he dropped earlier.

“Who’s the pushover now?”

“Considering you’re robbing me of Sesame Street Band-aids to bribe your daughter out of a tantrum?” You looked him up and down, from his half-closed eyes to the ketchup stain. “Still you.”

He hummed a warm reply, and twitched his other hand closed, curling his fingers over yours for a split second. A movement stunted by the bandages. Likewise, you drummed your fingertips on the heel of his palm, and let go.

“Wear your gloves next time, idiot.”

“Yes, dear.”

————

Taking on the role of Office Administrator meant one thing to the both of you: less time together.

The interactions were fleeting; sneaking a glance at each other when Eddie made an unnecessary trip to the breakroom to get his jacket for an equally unnecessary smoke break. But it meant he’d pass by Mr. Moore’s office twice while you were being taught how to fill out ledgers and spreadsheets. Two possibilities for you to become enamored with his hair flowing from underneath his bandana, and two chances for him to capture your interest with his charm–his larger than life presence stomping past the door with his chin held high and his hands in his back pockets, looking at you out the corner of his eye, and giving you that tight, knowing grin.

It was lonely working in the mornings, having a short lunch at your desk while scheduling business meetings with salesmen for Mr. Moore, and clocking out at 4PM to help take care of things at home while Robin was managing the night shift, and her dad was on bed rest.

You missed Eddie.

Eddie missed you.

————

It was a cold, bleak mid-December night after a dreary day of clouds and wind. The service bay doors were closed, except for one to allow the draft to carry out lingering exhaust fumes. Darkness smothered the world beyond the auto shop, interrupted intermittently by the odd car stopping at the streetlight. Turn signals blinked. Headlights peered into the warehouse, shining light on the single truck in the empty garage.

Blissful, tranquil winter. Crisp, throat-aching air. Bites of frost sinking into flesh. Numbed fingers. Frozen teeth nipping at the bone. Undisturbed. Quiet. No music.

“Man, it’s freezing in the lobby,” you complained loudly upon entering Eddie’s domain and crouching in front of the space heater next to the workbench.

The pair of legs sticking out from under the truck shifted.

Surprised by your sudden appearance, and grumpy about the loss of hot air directed at him, Eddie beat his wrench on the wheel axle to show his annoyance when you giggled and refused to move. In fact, you hunkered down, rubbing your palms together, hogging all the warmth while having the audacity to wear his tan work jacket.

He tapped the heel of his heavy work boot at you. “I thought you left for the day.”

“Did you really not notice me at my desk for the past hour?”

After waving the tool at the underside of the truck he’d been staring at for the better part of the evening, he then tucked his chin to make a snide remark, “Do you think I keep track of your whereabouts at all times?”

“Yes.”

No response except for a sour expression. Predictable. It was in his best interest to roll his head to the side, and pretend to be working by muttering mathematics to himself. You, however, stood up, and sidestepped the heater to read the buttons on the stereo radio, and dug for the cassette you slipped into the jacket’s pocket before coming out here.

Snap. Click. Whirr.

The black tape spun on the wheels, and from the speakers strung at the back corners of the garage, music began.

Eddie’s groan rose above the plucky piano keys. “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re subjecting me to Christmas music.”

You shushed him, “It’s just jazz.”

Ella Fitzgerald’s warbling hum filled the concrete walls. Her stunning voice and evocative, blunt lyrics soothed your eyes closed. Face-burning words you weren’t ashamed of. You let them take you. Dipping and swaying your shoulders side to side as the piano lulled you into its drunken blitheness. Guiding you two steps to the left, the right. A lazy turn. Paused on the cusp of anticipation. You stopped. Blinked lovingly at the boots beneath you.

“May I have this dance?”

Metal clinked to the ground. Eddie gripped the edge of the car, and pulled himself out. Pushed himself into a sitting position on the creeper, focusing on your hand extended to him, and climbing his gaze upwards. To the smudges of pencil lead and blue pen ink on the inside of your fingers from where you gripped the writing utensils, to the coffee stain on the cuff of his jacket, the name patch, the roundness of your cheeks from your hopeful smile.

“My hands are dirty,” he said.

“I don’t care.” You urged in all gentleness, “Don’t turn me down because you’re shy. I’ll teach you.”

Teach me, he mouthed.

A delicious secret emerged.

Excitement, charismatic boisterousness, unhesitating–eager–sincere excessive vulnerability, bursting to be the shameless youth he used to be and oh so endearing–Eddie sprang into action at the upkick in tempo. The namesake of the song vibrated under his ribs–I’ve Got a Crush On You–and the garage blurred in your dizzy eyes.

Eddie, Eddie, eddie eddie eddie, eddieeddieeddie. Hawkins’ reject, the town’s outcast, Eddie, in all his awkward, standoffish exterior built to protect his sensitive heart, swept your right hand into his left. Raised them. Compelled you into a fast, tight spin under his arm, and at the rotation’s completion, you sank into each other’s embrace like a released breath.

You used the solid curve of his shoulder as leverage, and fit your other hand in the space between his thumb and index.

Eddie didn’t lead.

He demanded you follow.

His muscles were braced with ego as he ushered you backwards. Large advances towards you, forcing you away from the truck, and half-turns to the side with an appropriate pressure at your waist to follow him to the unoccupied center of the garage. But his modest hand grew longing in the distance as you struggled to keep up in the short chase. The thick jacket meant for durability kept him wanting more, and he used it to reel you in. Draw you near. Bodies untouching, but radiating heat in the hushed sigh of winter rolling in from the service door.

Not once had you managed to sound the question on your parted lips, but he understood it, and answered.

“You’re not the only theater kid,” he said softly. “It was the only elective I liked. Had to learn to dance for a few parts over the years, and if I may judge by your reaction, I’m not half-bad.”

You laughed, “Wh-Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

The smug grin he wore waned to something more humble in nature. “Mm-nn. I never wanted to interrupt your stories. It’s more interesting listening to you talk about how you played a witch in a slutty Off-Off-Broadway rendition of Macbeth where you managed to snap both your stilettos in the first Act, than it is for me to go on about how I played background character #4 in my second senior year of high school and mostly used the class as an excuse to make props and shit.”

“Eddie,” you whined. Once upon a time, during your first days working here, he told you to leave him alone for jabbering on about the theater works you and Robin were a part of, and now he reveals this? “I didn’t even think you were listening when I told you those stories. And again! Why–didn’t–you–tell me?” Your words were minced from you shaking his shoulder.

“I didn’t think it’d be relevant,” he explained, speaking in that shy mumble of his.

“We could’ve been dancing this whole time.”

Eddie hung his head back, and bounced his brows upward. “Mmm. You make it sound like you’ve been wanting to do this since we met.” His hum, his words sent his Adam’s apple crawling up the deep shadows his jaw cast on his throat. Vibrating from within his alluring chest, and coming from the plump lips which appeared less blemished since the last time you were blessed with studying them up close.

The tube of Carmex you found in his pocket was doing wonders.

Basking in the overhead lights as flowers did in the sun, he listened to the end of the song fade. He willed his eyes half-open as it switched, dropped his face to lock onto your gaze, and obeyed the slower rhythm. Languid lurches into your compliant hips to the smooth saxophone. Step, step– With a pivot, guiding you around the floor in an unpredictable routine. One which kept you guessing. Had the rolled cuff of his pants brushing against your ankle, and his body coaxing you into a quick reverse turn at the piping trumpets on the following track. Broached the intimacy of his scent in your nose. Of course he didn’t smell great after a long day of working, but.. By your racing heart rushing blood in your ears, you had to admit, you didn’t find it as gross as you should, either.

Breaking you from your trance of staring at the frizzy baby curls sticking to the dried sweat on his neck, he suggested, “Dip?”

Your surprised shriek bubbled into a scathing yelp of Mother Fu–.

Impatient, ineloquent, and forgetful of manners. It was by the grace of your muscle memory you grappled for his upper body before your eyes could adjust to the upside down car cruising by the shop, puttering to a stop at the intersection. The arch he put in your back was wicked. Sinful, even. Supported by his strong arms.

Merciful, he righted your world. And in reconciliation, he observed you with the same obsessive interest he showed when he made you laugh. Watching for your reaction, and when it was adoring, he relaxed the apology from his features.

He hooked a finger around the lock of hair stuck at the corner of his mouth, and pulled it free; clasped your hand again–the other was slipped under the back of the jacket, and he settled his forearm around your waist, hot palm on your spine.

You took the cue. You climbed the scope of his shoulder to wager your dignity on the tight muscle at the crook of his neck. When he didn’t object, and his easy grin remained, you ventured under his unruly mane and found the back of his neck. You slipped your thumb into his collar, and rested it along the naked skin of his nape.

He shivered.

A car passed by.

The gossipers of Hawkins watched a mechanic and his boss’ receptionist-turned-Office-Administrator stare into each other’s eyes, and sway.

The distance between you two was unassuming, except for the tastes of more when the music encouraged, twirling yourself under his lifted arm as two separate beings, and rejoining as a pair, rocking back and forth, side to side, smiling from the exploration into something new.

The drum beats ebbed to a drowsy cadence.

Minutes passed. The embrace became familiar. Your held hands were sticky with shared dust and nervous sweat. His exhale mingled with your inhale. The steady sway was a polite shuffle in either direction, any direction. It didn’t matter. The embrace was the point.

“As Office Administrator,” you started, “I wanted to throw a party next week, the day before our holiday off. It’d be right after work, if you wanted to hang out, eat, and maybe bring Adrie?”

Before he could answer, you lowered your voice to an all-too-candid beg, “Please? I promise it won’t be boring. Mr. Moore said no one’s thrown a work party before, and I’m terrified no one but Kevin and his three dogs will show up.” You put a compassionate squeeze on the back of his neck. “Please don’t let it just be me, Kevin, and his three dogs.”

The bottom of Eddie’s two front teeth showed as he spoke on the verge of a grin, “I thought he only had two.”

You whispered dramatically, “It’s three now.”

He pretended to think over the offer, shifting from foot to foot.

“Eddie.”

As if he could keep up the act when you craved his name like that. “I’ll go,” he placated you, but not before inclining his head, viewing you through his messy bangs and long lashes. “And of course I’ll bring Adrie.”

You celebrated by punching up your linked hands–yours smelling of pencil shavings, and his of burnt brake pads. Eddie used it to maneuver you into another turn. Smooth, suave. A true gentleman.

“Would you help me decorate too?” you dared ask. His answer was an apathetic grumble. “And maybe bring any non-denominational wintry decorations you have because all I could find in town were very red and green, and very Christmas-leaning.”

“You’re not sweetening the deal.”

“But it’s a ‘yes,’ isn’t it?”

Another dissuasive grumble.

Whimsy, breathless lyrics about fresh love trilled from the speakers. The cassette was on its last song before needing to be flipped.

“Do you really listen to jazz?” he asked, skirting into the territory of curiosity as his frame rocked you to the left.

“I listen to a little bit of everything,” you answered honestly, engaging in a fluid stride to the right. “Are you asking because of the music you listen to?” At once, your expression went wry, and his widened to barely constrained intrigue, like you were two steps ahead of him, reading his private thoughts. “The kinda stuff you blast when you think I’m not around.”

“You’ve heard that?”

Not helping the pink hue stemming from the hot base of his neck beneath your palm, you were quick to tease him, “Well, I’m not exactly competing in the Tour de France, y’know. You don’t wait for me to ride away before starting up your little concerts in here when you tell me to leave early. Bet you play air-guitar ‘nd everything when I’m gone, like a dork.”

Visibly curbing his habit to lick his lips, not desiring the swipe of dust it’d come with, Eddie narrowed his eyes, and cocked his head back to regard you down the slope of his nose. “Yeah? And what do you think of the music I listen to?”

“Unsurprising. Suits your image.” Engaging in a bit of intentionality, you worked your hand from his nape and introduced your fingertips to his other shoulder, wrapping your arm tighter around him, and you were enveloped by his warmth doing the same. The waistband of his coveralls rubbed against the metal zipper of his bulky jacket you wore as you moved in unison. “I recognize the big stuff. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest..” You shrugged. “Accept?”

The tip of Eddie’s nose came into focus, then his big eyes searching yours as he turned his face side to side, examining you up close. “I wasn’t even playing Balls to the Wall. No one just casually names Accept like that. You like them!”

“Okay, okay, slow down, don’t get too excited,” you calmed him before he strained a tendon in the very finger he pointed at you. “I’ve couch surfed with a lot of weirdos, and lived with six roommates at one point. I’ve listened to my fair share of music through thin walls whether I liked it or not.. But yeah, I like metal enough, I guess.”

Though he unlinked your waltzing hands in his rush to assert himself in your personal space, his arm around your waist persisted–and if he were wary of crossing boundaries, he showed no heed when he employed his strength to press your chests together through the layers of clothes in a sense of spontaneity.

Your view was eclipsed by the thrill in his boyish grin, and then, his hair was slipping from your curious fingers.

“Wait here–!”

And he was gone. His body heat bounded away and out the back door. You were stunned with your hands still posed as if he were there.

You dropped your arms to your sides, and clutched the rugged canvas jacket around you, waiting, listening to the gravel crunch and a car door slam, peering out into the dark to see what became so important he left his dancing partner in the middle of the warehouse in utter confusion.

“Got it,” he said in his stride to the stereo.

“Got what?” It was rude enough to abandon you, and now he was ignoring you in his frenzy. You followed him to the workbench, and turned to the side to rest your hip on it. The heater thawed your shins while Eddie pried open a cassette, but you couldn’t read the front from how he held it in his palms.

Snap. Click. Whirr.

He leaned his ass on the table top and folded his arms over his chest, instilling a narrow distance between you two. His gaze was on the floor. Eyes falling closed. For once, he did not want to see your reaction.

The speakers crackled with static.

You startled.

It was a hard left turn from the somber jazz from before.

Drumsticks crashed on cymbals, setting the aggressive pace for a piercing guitar to enter on a screeching note, quickly devolving into thrashy chords sure to make the fingers sore, along with a bass and rhythm guitar that were getting lost in your pounding head.

Though he wasn’t watching, you schooled the surprise from your features, and relaxed your shoulders. The music wasn’t offensive in the least, but it was loud.

After the initial assault, and a quick bass solo, you were nodding along, enjoying the overwhelming beat pulsing in your throat making it difficult to breathe.

The shredding guitar wept to a softer bridge, and the vocals began.

The vocals began.

The vocals..

The lyrics were spoken–sung–with the last word being dragged into a melodic ballad as the instruments went silent. A rich note held by a man whose voice was neither deep, nor falsetto. Perfectly in the middle. Perfectly fitting your preference. Perfectly matching the one you heard most days, and thought about at night, when your bed was lonely and your body was flushed with heat.

Perfectly matching..

You snapped your attention to Eddie’s face. His eyelids twitched with movement. Individual curls of his hair swung in time to his head dipping to the tempo. His cheek jumped at the start of the next verse, and he dug his fingernails into his sleeve until they turned white.

“This is you,” you expelled in pure infatuation. “Eddie!” You clasped his bicep, and leaned in to him, excelling at matching his enthusiasm from earlier, and surpassing it. “Eddie, this is you!” He opened his eyes and slouched away from your efforts in a laugh, angling his face into his hair to hide his shy grin.

You ran your hand along his forearm and tugged, wheedling him out of the tight hug he had himself locked in, urging him to open up. “This is you singing, isn’t it? This is your band.” The cassette case was behind him. Corroded Coffin. Same name as what was on his sweatshirt on Halloween. 

The second button on his coveralls snapped open, below the one he always kept unfastened. You didn’t know at what point you were bold enough to put your hand on his chest, nor gather the fabric into your fist while shaking some sense into him, but you did. You really did expose the tight white shirt clinging to his sticky skin. All for the sake of validating Eddie.

When he continued acting far too humble–shrinking into himself, and mumbling how it wasn’t that cool–you wasted no time embarrassing yourself by jumping on your tiptoes, telling him just how cool it was, you promised.

Reaching behind him, he slapped the volume knob down so you both could stop shouting.

“I appreciate the groupie attitude, but it’s not like we’re a big deal, or anything,” he said, awkwardly folding one of his arms on top of the workbench as he surrendered and turned to you. His other hand hesitated near the bottom of the jacket. “About once a month we get a gig in Indy. Doesn’t pay much, but it covers the cost of the trip, and we get a decent crowd, I guess. Uhm, the venue sells out.. sometimes. People know some of the lyrics. We sell a couple of shirts..” he trailed off upon making eye contact. “We only get to practice on the days I leave work early. Maybe on the weekend.. so.”

Overflowing with sincerity, you trusted your hands to behave themselves on his forearm, laying your decent fingers over the tensed muscle above his wrist where he wore his watch.

He canted his head, and gave you a cynical look. “It’s not like we’re famous or anything.”

“I think it’s so cool you’re in a band,” you stressed. “How come you never told me?”

Shrugging, he glanced elsewhere. “Being you, and being from New York, you probably know hundreds of bands who’ve made it big. I’m sure you’ve met way more impressive people.”

Is that what this was about? Not sharing his theatrical past, and now his band because he was insecure about not impressing you, of all things? Using a resentful tone when speaking about his life versus yours, as if the comparisons mattered when it took all of your willpower to not stare at his lips in this proximity.

“Who cares who I’ve met. You sound amazing. The music, your voice. Everything. It’s uniquely yours, and I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

Eddie sighed.

Cozying into the position, he leaned his weight on the arm you cupped your palms over, and there was a pull at the hem of the jacket. You shifted closer. He looped his finger into the pocket and rubbed his thumb along the edge of it, seeking an absent-minded distraction as he explained, “I also didn’t want to, ah–I don’t know.. Scare you off. Like, if you didn’t like it, or thought heavy metal was Satanic, or some shit.”

“Scare me off?” At least, you intended to repeat it back to him as a question, but your laugh interrupted you. “Oh, Eddie. Light of my day, my neverending fountain of mirth, a true joy to be around,” you gushed at his exaggerated sneer. “If you didn’t scare me off the first week of meeting you, where you made it a point to glare at me for the mere act of speaking in your direction, I don’t think your very obvious music taste would.”

He looked at his boots for a moment to reflect on his behavior, but forwent an apology, and instead asked, “So, you don’t think it’s lame for me to be pushing 30-years-old, and still playing in a garage band?” There was a truncated tension at the end of his question, like he wanted to add more self-deprecation to it, but stopped himself. Good thing, too, because you were about to voice your adulations until you were rendered to a puddle of embarrassment.

Sparing no sarcasm, you furrowed your brows and screwed your mouth into a snarky grin as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, girls find it totally lame when hot guys with long hair drive fast cars and play loud music and are in a band. It’s totally the most unattractive thing, especially when they have tattoos and are good singers. Definitely isn’t a turn-on at all.”

Too far, too much, too inappropriate–

The last sentence was over the line, and you could see it in his surprised eyebrows wrinkling his forehead, and his wide pupils boring into yours, and his cheeks reddening as your words sank in.

The garage went viscerally quiet.

He stopped fidgeting with the jacket pocket.

Mistake, mistake, mistake.

“Not just the vocalist,” he said, voice cracking on the whisper. “I play lead guitar, too.”

You spat out, “Very cool,” desperate for the relief of his face cracking into a flattered grin.

But no, Eddie didn’t grant you such comfort. However, he did spare you the chance to scratch at the anxious sweat dripping down your back when he rearranged how he was standing, and spun around to the stereo. “It’s pretty late, huh? We should probably get going.” He pressed his hips to the workbench as he organized the tapes into their cases. Then, he paused.

The case yours went to was blank. Nothing written on the dotted lines on the back, nor on the front of the tape.

“I need my jacket back,” he reminded you.

“R-Right.”

You shimmied it off, and handed it to him. He draped it over his arm, and clutched the bulk to his stomach, covering his front as he turned to face you again. “Here.” Holding out the black and white cassette with a stylized logo he drew himself, he gave you his personal copy of Corroded Coffin’s first recording session. “You take mine. I’ll take yours.”

“Are you sure?”

Staring at the mixtape compiled of the cheesy love songs you made over the course of a few nights, he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” And as he dragged his feet backwards–avoiding the space heater without looking–he said on his way to the tray where he kept his rings, “We should do this again. The whole.. dancing thing.” He gestured with the tape. “I’ll pick the music next time, too.”

With his back to you, he cleaned up his station, and let you know you could go. “I’ll lock up behind you.”

“You never answered if you were helping me hang decorations,” you found your voice. It was hiding behind a hammering heart, and shallow-filled lungs.

Outside, a car honked at a truck to take their turn at a green light.

The metal teeth on his jacket ground together as Eddie zipped it up. He sank his heavy hands into the pockets to weigh them down, and crossed his work boots at the ankle to about-face in a sort of pirouette, pinning you with his lopsided grin and mellow demeanor. “You know, I thought with all the life lessons I’ve had to learn over the past five years, I’d be able to resist a pretty girl asking me to do things for her.” He snorted and flicked his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. “But when they’re as beautiful as you, I just can’t.”

His gaze came crashing down onto you, and your tongue froze at the tip of your teeth.

“Alright, Casanova,” you let out in a shaky breath. “I’ll take that as you agreeing, and will see you bright and early, and without any complaints.” You left as fast as you could.

No, really. The Tour de France better have a spot open for you, with how fast you pedaled home to sit on your bed, cross legged, happily ruining your hearing from having the volume scrolled to the max on your Walkman, listening to Eddie’s voice, wondering at what point the endorphins would wear off and you were stuck agonizing over how blatant you were about calling your coworker hot. And how he called you beautiful in return.

————

Talking amongst the sputtering coffee machine beginning its brew:

“The fourth one–uh–Solivagant, is definitely my favorite!”

“That one’s instrumental,” Eddie pouted. “And here I was under the impression you liked my lyrics.. Mm, a little lower on your side.”

You put blu-tack on your end of the banner, and pressed it into the wall. “I do! But that one really got stuck in my head. The way all the guitars came together to play the harmony was just–Eddie! You did that on purpose.”

Stepping around to the other side of the lunch table, you threw your head back in a groan at the glittery Happy Holidays sign you wrongly assumed he would help you hang without turning it into a way to tease you.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled on your way to fix the banner so it was even, and his side wasn’t higher by a few inches.

“Sorry,” he said weakly between his snickering. “Let me.”

There was no letting him do what he wanted. He was going to push his way into your space, regardless. Literally, shoving a chair out of his way with his hip, and standing behind you to peel the sticky tacky off the wall, and raising it from your face’s height, to slightly above your head, needlessly, infuriatingly, unhelpfully helping you. Barging in with his hand on your shoulder, and his body at your back. Closer, more intimate than the time at the grocery store.

His inhale swelled his solid chest against your shoulder blades, and his hum rumbled down your spine. “Am I supposed to dress up nice for your party?”

You twisted your head back to admire the underside of his freshly shaven jaw smelling of astringent spice. “Only if you feel like it,” you guessed. “The dress I’m wearing is pretty casual, but you don’t have to do anything special if you don’t want to.” After circling his thumb over the tacky corner of the sign, he dropped his arms, grazing them over yours, if only in passing. “I think the other guys are wearing button down shirts.”

His gaze drifted as he visualized his closet.

You stared. “Do you really not have one nice shirt?”

“I might still have the one from my job interview,” he said, tucking his chin to look at you, creating a silly amount of wrinkles along his burgeoning grin.

The front door chimed. Either Carl, Kevin, or your boss just walked in, and it was then Eddie realized the position he had you in. It struck him when his peppermint-candy-and-cigarettes breath caressed your fluttering lashes, and he could discern the bubblegum flavored chapstick on your lips, just like you could observe the balm on his.

If someone saw him trapping you alone in the breakroom against the wall with your backside pressed to him, there would be no delicate conversation about consensual workplace relationships. He’d be gone.

“Sorry!”

Eddie made his swift retreat–three, no, four steps away.

You widened your eyes at him, at his obviousness, and tried to communicate through your facial expression you knew what he was thinking, and everything was okay. You two were a bit too comfortable around each other, that’s all. It wasn’t something serious he needed to explain away. No one caught him. It was innocent, like slow dancing when no one was around. Innocent. Teasing.

“I, uhm– Y-Yeah, the shirt.” He forced his fingers to unclench into limp fists at his side. Face pale, yet hot. “It’s–I’ll wear it.”

Wringing your hand around the fridge door handle, you bent towards him, and raised your eyebrows higher, imploring him to chill. “Eddie, you can come in a t-shirt and jeans. It doesn’t matter. Adrie can wear whatever she wants, too. It’s just a casual thing.”

Totally casual. Like the body heat fading from the back of your green knit sweater where his chest became acquainted with the acrylic. Dissipating on his skin beneath his coveralls where the crown of your head met his shoulder. Very casual.

“Uhm–”

“So..”

You both started, and ended.

“Mornin’!” Mr. Moore’s gruff greeting came from the hallway.

Treating it as a warning, you each responded with an acknowledgement of your boss’ appearance as he walked into the room. “Good morning!” and “Salutations!” To which you shut your eyes in exasperation at Eddie’s unusual welcome, begging him to act normal while Mr. Moore poured sugar in his coffee.

After stirring in complete silence, he took turns smiling at you both, and meandered to his office, closing the door behind him.

Eddie shifted topics to the table where piles of garland remained coiled.

“Should we–?”

“Wanna just, uh, forget decorating for today, ‘nd do it tomorrow?” you spoke over him.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding too enthusiastically. He tossed his hair out of his face, revealing the red tips of his ears for a split-second, and said, “Tomorrow, yeah. We can do the rest of this shit tomorrow.”

A very graceful conversation between two people who just had a very ordinary interaction without any explicit implications.

“We’re still having lunch together later, right?” you asked.

“Duh. You’ve gotta finish giving me your thoughts on the rest of our EP. The chorus for Taladasian Empire has some meta references to the other songs, I don’t know if you caught onto that, but the second verse mentions..”

Oh, he was adorable when he hyperfixated. Not only did it steer the conversation away from the previous blood-scorching incident, but it was rather nice to have a reason to stare at his lips move a mile a minute as he conjured an unprompted dissertation about his music’s lore, even as you were sitting at your desk, pointing at your ringing phone, and suggesting he should also get to work.

There were only two days left before the long holiday, and customers needed their cars before the shop was closed for the break.

————

Kevin sipped his coffee in the early morning sunlight filtering through the garage.

You garnered Eddie’s help whenever he was available, and the current task was dressing up your receptionist desk to look like a big present, complete with a gold bow flowing over the ledge where the candy bowl sat. Eddie crouched at one end holding a roll of wrapping paper while you unfurled it to the other, and measured it to the side facing the lobby.

Kevin watched the interaction through a unique lens, noting how Eddie bounced on his heels, appearing both bored and anxious to get back to work, but when he glanced over at you–at your face pinched in concentration as you fought with the tape dispenser with one hand–it was as if his worries melted away.

The boy calmed down.

Though Kevin didn’t come in often, the effect you had on the misfit was overt in the sweetest way. It reminded him of his first and last love, who had since passed.

~~~

Carl sipped his coffee as he stood in the doorway to the breakroom.

The lobby was taken over by a cheerful wonderment.

Eddie was hanging white and blue streamers from the drop ceiling tiles, while you decorated the windows with silver snowflakes. At first, Carl thought Eddie was pinning them up around the perimeter of the room because he lacked direction, but then he saw why he insisted on following you around, setting up the step ladder directly behind you.

Without discussing it, you reached out for Eddie’s arm as you stepped onto the cushiony lobby chair customers sat in when waiting for their cars, and he was at the ready. He lent his balance to you, crooking his elbow for you to slot your fingers into, and once steady, you let go.

The conversation picked up where it was left off, and the decorating continued.

Now that the glass door was unblocked, Kevin shuffled inside with his cold mug to get a refill, and stopped next to Carl on his way to the coffee machine.

“You sure those two ain’t datin’?” he asked.

Carl shrugged with his mug on the way to his mouth. “Apparently not. Ed said they’re just friends.”

At a sound in the lobby, they craned their heads to the furthest wall to witness Eddie beaming down at you. His smile was a rarity, and watching the enormous emotion take over him when you touched his arm and laughed at his joke; it was a sight worthy of remembering.

Kevin scratched at the side of his head, then straightened out the bill to his baseball cap over his wispy white hair, and squinted at the mischievous glint in Carl’s eyes.

“But David did say he walked in on them looking mighty flustered yesterday.”

“Did he, now?”

Swallowing the hot coffee with a wet smack of his lips, he emphasized a drawn out, “Yep.”

Kevin suggested, “Maybe the holiday spirit will take over, and they’ll confess their feelings under some mistletoe.”

“Uck,” he replied with a disgusted noise. “You’re always such a romantic.”

“You’re the one starin’ at them,” Kevin countered on his way to the coffee pot, shuffling from the arthritis in his knees, and focusing his energy into keeping his trembling hand still as he poured his drink. “Besides, I think his little girl would appreciate having someone like her in their lives.”

————

Four hours before the party, the auto shop was swept into a flurry of activity.

Carl and Kevin each had vehicles to work on; driving a truck out to the parking lot for a customer to pick up after you called them, and driving a car in. Working in tandem to the jolly Christmas music on the radio. Crowding the garage with discarded packaging from parts that would be gathered to be burned later.

“Guh–” You hung up the phone, and pressed a button to erase what you previously recorded after you stuttered over part of your script.

This outgoing message thing wasn’t going well.

Sighing, you picked it up and pressed the record button again. “You’ve reached David’s Auto Shop at..” you enunciated the number and address in an even tone. “We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–”

The smell of cigarettes should’ve been your first warning. The hand tipping your office chair back should’ve been the second. The general Eddie-ism of it all should’ve been the third.

Eddie blew a raspberry directly into the receiver.

“You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..” Fuming, you hung up, and glared at him.

He cackled on his way to the garage. “Hey, since you’re not busy, can you help me roll this stack of tires to the Buick over there?” Before you could share the choice words you had prepared for him–before you could process the droplets of spit drying on your cheek–before the door could hit him on the way out–he spun and caught it and ducked his head back in. “Oh! Don’t forget your policy. Can’t say no to helping me, huh?” On his smooth exit, he winked and made a clicking sound with his mouth, flashing a gratuitous amount of teeth on the smirk.

“You are the absolute worst.” You grabbed your hoodie and followed him, pointedly not thanking him for holding the door open for you. “And you know what? I seriously regret ever telling you about my dumbass policy.”

“Really? I’ve only just begun to actualize the potential for making you do things for me. I’m loving it!”

~~~

Three hours before the party, you put the finishing touches on the breakroom before Robin arrived with the food you ordered from the bakery and deli at the grocery store. Some was excess that would’ve gone to waste; extra cupcakes, and cookies. Other things were ordered, like finger sandwiches, veggie trays, and an arrangement of cheese cubes with those cute toothpicks that have red and green cellophane at the top. You also gave her money for the makings of smores, bags of pretzels, and crackers, themed plates and cups to match. The works.

You cleaned the countertop free of appliances, putting them away in the cupboards to make space and give outlets to the crockpots Mr. Moore’s wife was bringing later.

Otherwise, you shoved a tall stool borrowed from the garage in the corner of the room, and placed the small TV from Mr. Moore’s office on it, intending to play Holiday programs while people funneled in and out.

~~~

Two hours before the party, the sun was setting on the horizon. Eddie moved his car to the end of the alleyway, and Carl rolled out a barrel to be stuffed with leftover cardboard boxes, and firewood he brought from home.

He and Eddie moved the workbench to the service door, and set up the bigger TV so people could watch the football game while standing around the fire.

~~~

One hour before the party, the garage was cleared of anything that a child could hurt themselves on or with, and the shop was hushed in wait. Eddie left first to get Adrie from school, and go home to change. The other guys did the same, leaving to collect what family they were bringing, while you stayed behind to stress over having enough food to feed everyone, even after Robin dropped off more snacks than you remembered listing, along with your party clothes.

————

The evening began trepidatious.

Guests filled the lobby like a sea of warmly-dressed sardines. Scarves, mittens, jackets brushed necks, hands, shoulders. Those recognizing each other hugged, while three rambunctious dogs wove through their legs. You introduced yourself to Mr. Moore’s daughter, Misty, and waved at her newborn. Carl’s teenage sons took the opportunity of their mom being busy to throw pebbles at each other outside. Mr. Moore’s wife and her brother and his eldest son were either setting up food or starting the fire. There was a moody girl of unknown origin moping in the corner. You lost track. It was hard to concentrate in the excitement.

You tugged your sleeves into your palms, and looked around the room for what must’ve been the hundredth time..

Eddie was late, and it was difficult keeping the concern off your face.

“Don’t look so worried,” Kevin said, landing a hand on your back as he shuffled by, carrying the scent of lighter fluid and smoke. “Your date’s still in his car. Probably workin’ up the nerve to come see you.”

“He’s not my date,” you corrected with a comically repulsed frown, hoping he’d buy it. “We’re friends.”

A twinkle danced in his stark blue eyes, and his open-mouthed smile peeked from beneath his thick mustache. “Look out.”

Look out?

A pair of tiny arms hugged you around your ass, and if it wasn’t for the tell-tale giggle, your stomach would be flipping with a much different emotion.

“Adrie!” You twisted and subtly scooped her arms higher on your hips before cupping the back of her head, and hugging her to your leg in the warmest greeting you could muster while your brain went to mush.

“You made it,” you said, staring, staring, staring.

Eddie pressed his lips together as he looked from his daughter to you. Happiness etched itself in every facet of his expression; in the tight smile he failed to control, to the tenderness of his half-closed eyes shining behind his lashes, his confident stance with his hands slotted into his work jacket pockets, in his washed hair falling to one side as he let his head loll from the heavy thoughts swaying his shoulders in a slow rocking motion. Everything about him was relaxed upon seeing you.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented with a magnificent amount of ease, as if he wasn’t a bundle of anxiety minutes ago. Yet, he didn’t withhold his praise. In gradual seconds–each longer than the last–he beheld your appearance in the highest regard, noting the vast departure from the jeans you usually wore.

The burgundy pinafore dress fit you snug, and the hem stopped high on your thighs. The thin white turtleneck underneath clung to your figure, and your black pantyhose matched your chunky Mary Janes.

It was one beret and a baguette short from being an outfit you wore for a skit with your comedy troupe, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Really beautiful,” he said to himself, taking you in, his whisper lost amongst the beginning strums of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree playing from the garage.

Adrie grabbed at the dress around your waist, chaining herself to you in a needy act for attention, and you stroked your thumb over her hair in return, eyes refusing to leave her father.

“And what about you, handsome?” You signaled it was his turn to show off.

So far, the formfitting gray slacks with a faint plaid pattern were doing him justice, but you wanted to see the whole thing.

Peacocking, Eddie lifted an arrogant brow on the same side of his smirk, and put some confidence in how he unzipped his jacket, savoring the anticipation. Opening it slowly to unveil, unfathomably, a button up shirt. White with blue stripes. Untucked, of course. Dropping the jacket from his shoulders, he strutted in a circle, giving you the full view of his back–no rugged coveralls, no leather, no durable canvas, no sweatshirt–just thin polycotton blend stretched over his frame alluding to his musculature.

Working the jacket back up his arms, he presented one of his legs forward. “Think I gained some weight since I last wore these. They used to fit better.”

Oh. Oh, no. They fit perfectly.

While he was busy looking at where the slacks tapered to his black boots, you were commending other areas. Like his thighs, where the pants gave a slim shadow where his boxers ended. And a little higher, to the place the fabric bunched around, and forced the zipper to curve outward. The real deal. The whole package. The big show.

Jesus..

“You look good,” you croaked out with the last of the air in your lungs. He jerked his head up, and smiled his usual way–too wide, a little askew, showing more teeth on one side than the other. “Should’ve known you’d be just as handsome dressed up as you are in a t-shirt and jeans.”

“You hear that, Adrie? It was worth it being late, because I look extra handsome.”

“I didn’t say extra–”

“Who cares,” she whined at him. After demonstrating an ounce of patience while her dad took a shower, washed his hair, shaved, spritzed on too much cologne, and stood in front of the mirror debating over wearing his nicer clothes or his usual ripped jeans for an excruciating number of minutes, she was at her limits. “My outfit is way, way, way cuter,” she argued in her kid-like way, fighting for your approval.

You crouched to her level, and she twirled in a circle, copying him. “Oh my gosh, you’re right! Your sweatshirt is way, way, way cuter than his boring clothes. What does it say?” Somewhere above you, you heard Eddie suck his teeth.

Adrie pinched the red pullover and held it out for you to read along with her.

“Santa’s.. Widdle helper.” The pronunciation wasn’t her fault. Upon closer inspection, the text did indeed spell ‘little’ as ‘wittl’.’

“And who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the character jumping out of a Christmas stocking on the front.

“Tweety Bird!”

“Alright!” You held your hand up, and she high-fived you.

Thrown back into reality at a dog’s yip, and Mr. Moore’s survey of heads, you let go of the romanticized bubble you surrounded yourself in, where it was just you, Adrie, and Eddie, and took heed of the packed room lurching towards the smell of cooked meatballs wafting in the air.

“Everyone here?” Mr. Moore asked, and when a murmur arose, he rubbed his hands together, and announced, “Let’s eat! Game starts soon.”

The sardine conglomerate moved as one, making a concentrated effort to form a line from the breakroom, down the hallway, and ending where you stood at the glass door. Adrie struggled to accept being last in line, but you prepared many distractions for her; the first of which being Eddie’s present.

“I got something for you,” you said, and reached over the ledge of your desk, patting around in search of the special item. He expressed an unreasonable amount of suspicion. “You have to promise to wear it. Or else..” You gave Adrie a look, and she had a pout at the ready if he didn’t comply.

“I don’t like it when you two gang up on me,” he mumbled, eyeing you.

“Too bad. Here.”

Eddie snorted at the red, white, fuzzy, jingly accessory in your hand. “Really?” he asked, and laughed, “Would’ve worn it anyway.”

After a pause where he held the Santa hat in strange contemplation, he humbly knelt on his knees to Adrie, and asked her to do the honors, “Wanna put it on for me?” She did so enthusiastically, jamming the hat on his head, rattling the bell at the end of the cap, and calling him Daddy Santa while roughly combing his hair. He was sure to hold your gaze as he prompted Adrie, “Not real Santa, right?”

“No, you’re Daddy Santa. Real Santa is coming in two days! And he’s bringing me lots of presents because I’ve been good.”

You understood, then, the glaze of fatigue in the look he gave you. It’d be a few more years until Adrie thanked him for the miracles in her life, the food in her belly, the roof over her head, and as a father, he only hoped he’d fix his situation before she learned the full details of his sacrifices to raise her, to give her a room, to provide her with a bed of her own while he went without.

Still, he was in the constant battle of yearning for the acknowledgement, while fearing her growing up and discovering the real world.

A complex set of emotions to parse for both him and his daughter, and he had to do it alone.

“Ow, Adrie..”

Coming to his rescue when she began pinching his cheeks to a rosy state, you got her attention, “Don’t think I forgot about you, cutie pie.” From behind the ledge, you pulled out a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband, and slid them on for her, doubling as a way to keep her bangs out of her eyes.

Glee burst across her face in a smile which rivaled the dawning rays of the rising sun. Deep-seated satisfaction erupted in your chest at her joy over the small gesture. Her immediate desire was to be picked up by you, ready to be doted on, and in that moment, you wanted nothing other than to gather her in your arms. But Eddie stole her for himself. You were left Adrie-less. And the fact it bothered you, and the fact making his daughter happy affected you in a way you’d only begun to unpack last week when you asked Robin to drive you to the toy store at the mall, was complicated.

“You can’t coerce Miss Mouse into picking you up at your command,” he told her in a playful tone. “You’re a big girl now, and only Daddy’s strong enough to hold you.”

“Oh, puh-lease.” As if your tongue wasn’t already stuck out in disgust, it certainly was when he made a show of flexing his biceps. Under his jacket. Like that would prove anything.

Now, if he were wearing less..

You latched onto the change of subject in your mind, and moved on with the night, away from the poignant feelings of longing for something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

For now, you made a sardine family. You, Adrie, and Eddie. Your hand in hers, she on his hip, and his kiss to her forehead, fond of one another. Huddled in shared conversation–the type where everything faded away. No one else. Just you, Adrie, and Eddie.

You volunteered to make their dinner. With Adrie clinging to his side, she was able to boss you into putting whatever she wanted on her plate, and you checked Eddie’s amused face every time she added another carrot or ham pinwheel, knowing he’d be the one to eat it when she was full. After hers, you made his, and after his, you made yours. Balancing them all on your palms and forearm, and bringing them to your desk, assuring Eddie he could have the office chair while you took the black stool.

Poor him, though. He sat with Adrie in his lap, desperate to maneuver around her antlers to get a mini cupcake in his mouth while you freely ate your sandwiches, and answered her questions about if reindeer were real, and if they could fly. (Yes, and yes.)

Other guests were present in the lobby, you knew, but at the impact of your knee prodding Eddie’s thigh, and his sly grin over Adrie’s head, they faded away once more.

Until a flash startled you both from your ga-ga gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Just saving memories!” Kevin exclaimed, scrolling his thumb over the disposable camera’s film cog.

And before you could blink away the spot invading your vision, he was gone. “Hope we looked good, at least,” you said to Eddie, not having a candid picture taken since you moved to Hawkins.

He snorted, and leaned around Adrie to see the meatball he was quartering for her with a plastic fork. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered at the endearment. He said it in a casual manner, not like when he was trying to fluster you. And the compliment was sincere, not teasing. It was sweet, with his arm around his daughter to keep her from squirming away, and the warm comfort of his leg against yours, body heat transferring from his slacks through your thin pantyhose.

A moment you’d like to remember. Including..

“Here,” you giggled.

He looked at the napkin you held out to him, and where you tapped at the corner of your mouth. “Oh.”

In true Eddie fashion, he used his tongue to edge at the green icing, following it with his thumb to get whatever he missed and sucking the rest from his fingers while still managing to entertain Adrie with questions about what she did in preschool today, and dipping a carrot in ranch, dropping some of it too onto his pinky and licking that off without hesitation too. A chaotic mess of a man.

~~~

As predicted, it didn’t take long for Adrie to get bored, and she wandered off to play with Kevin’s dogs. Eddie took it upon himself to finish the monumental task of eating the assortment of leftovers she surrendered on her plate. A real hero of the times, scarfing down the butter ring cookies she wore on her fingers, and downing the sip of juice she didn’t want.

The conversation between you two was the easy kind. Simple, flowing. He slouched to the side with his elbow on the desk, cheek to his fist, legs spread,  listening to you talk about nothing.

“And as you can see” –You pulled open the second drawer to the short filing cabinet under your desk– “I’m all organized for the new year. Got my Post-it notes, a new set of highlighters, some of those fancy pens that make my handwriting look nicer. Living a life of luxury over here.”

“Very cool,” he replied in a hollow tone, implying it was in a mocking ‘you’re adorable’ kind of way, and not a ‘wow, you bought the Bugs Bunny themed sticky notes, that’s very cool of you’ kind of way.

You pushed the drawer closed with your foot, and rocked on your stool, grinning.

Beyond the circle of touching knees, fluorescent lights, and brave glances, there was an abrupt cheer at a scored touchdown. In the lobby, the mothers grouped the chairs together to adore the hiccuping newborn. In the parking lot, the teenage boys drove a remote control car around. The moody girl brought a skewer and marshmallows out to the fire. A Jack Russell terrier panted at your calf. Kevin patted Adrie’s head, and stooped to whisper a secret in her ear as they passed each other outside the glass door.

Eddie took the pom pom end of his Santa hat between two fingers and rattled the bell at you. He looked like he was about to speak, but someone special interrupted him.

“I’ve been sent on a mission. You have to come with me!”

You both turned to Adrie.

When neither of you did anything besides raise your eyebrows expectantly, and she didn’t give more context, nor information, she got impatient. “Come on!” she pleaded with a stomp, and grabbed your hand, and you grabbed Eddie’s sleeve on instinct, practically tripping him over your stool while she dragged you into the hallway.

After several feet, she stopped. You stopped, Eddie stopped.

“What’s the mission?” he played along, linking his hand in hers so you were one big circle. A sardine family.

She didn’t speak. Only grinned, and giggled.

Not catching on, you exchanged a confused shrug with Eddie, and asked her, “Is it a riddle?”

More laughter. Harder, more persistent tugs around your pinky and ring finger where she snared you. And a direct, focused smile aimed above your heads.

Slowly–slowly–slowly–

You straightened up from how you were bent over, and listened to Eddie’s clothes shift as he did the same. You followed the invisible line to where she was looking, tipping your head back in curiosity to see what was taped to the doorway exactly between you, and her beloved dad.

There was silence all around.

From the sharp leaves and red berries of the mistletoe, your gaze began its slow descent to Eddie’s. Passing over the red hat, the wrinkled forehead with messy bangs flattened onto it, the worried eyebrows. His sickly pale cheeks, flushed red lips. Suspended in time. Heart in your tight throat, pounding pulse, stomach twisting. 

You searched the frightened sheen in his eyes.

“I didn’t hang that, I swear,” he whispered.

“I didn’t either,” you promised just as quickly.

It didn’t matter who did.

There was noise all around. The football game turned to a commercial, and heavy feet announced people entering the garage, and approaching the glass door, coming inside to refresh their drinks and nibble at the cheese cubes.

Quickly–quickly–quickly–

“She.. We’ve been watching a lot of Christmas movies, and she must’ve seen it in one of them.” Lowering his voice, he brought his hand up in a sympathetic gesture, trying to explain her behavior. You let go of his sleeve. “She doesn’t understand.. The meaning, and everything.” He paused. “Us.” Another pause, a tic in his lower lip like a tremble. “Working together, and stuff.” Voice almost mute. “That w-we can’t..”

As much as you wanted to smash your lips on his to stop him from overexplaining the multitude of reasons you two couldn’t, or shouldn’t kiss, (you’re at work, this place smells like meatballs, his daughter is right there, Mr. Moore’s shadow breached the lobby, the fact Eddie chose listing coworkers as his rationale for not kissing you and not because you two were friends, but then again, what if he was about to say that, that he only saw you as a friend, and maybe being coworkers was an easier excuse than saying he wasn’t into you like that, oh god–), you had to get out of this situation with grace.

“No, yeah, I get it. Uhm.” Think fast, think fast, think fast. “You know who else is under the mistletoe, hmm?” you drew out the hum to build tension, setting your sights on your target.

Adrie squealed when you snatched her up and spun in a circle, attacking her cheeks with an unrelenting amount of kisses; the type that were quick pecks with lots of kissy noises, so saccharine and fawning and annoying to listen to. Tender and pure and tempting to the man who made a conscious effort to release the pinch of frustration from his face, and remorse from his discontent sigh before answering your question.

“Can she have one of these chocolate snowmen?”

“Only if you’re willing to tire her out before we leave,” Eddie said, taking intentional steps towards you and Adrie on your hip, leaving the mistletoe and its implications behind. He placed a friendly hand along your shoulder blade. His other hand was more menacing on her back, as indicated by her eyes growing large.

He warned her in a stern tone, “If you have too much sugar and keep me up all night, you’ll never have another dessert again.”

She called him out, point blank, nose turned up in triumph. “You’ve already said that before, and I got cookies anyway.”

Your cookies, he said in a quick glance and eyebrow wag at you, before speaking to her again, “You got me there. However.. I would hate for Santa to find out you stayed up past your bedtime.” He sucked his teeth with a pitying shrug. “The consequences are steep. He’s very strict, you know.”

Adrie’s frown was serious.

Eddie was having too much fun using his one seasonal threat to get her to behave.

“Aw, don’t listen to him,” you soothed her. You lifted your chin so she could burrow her head against your neck, and amended, “Well, do listen to your dad, but I have something special planned for us, Adrie.” She roused out of her heart-wrenching pout, and hugged you harder, kicking her feet around your waist in excitement.

You smiled at him, but your gaze fell elsewhere, passing over the men in the hallway, and taking a last, long look at the mistletoe, seeing it for the confusing event it created, not the romantic scene it was known for. “I’ll take her for the night. You go watch the game, or something. Hang out with the adults. I’ve got her.”

The tiny room became overcrowded. Someone whispered, “Oh, aren’t they cute together,” and Eddie chewed on his inner cheek. He removed his hand from you, fingertips slipping over the back of your dress, catching the strap, then your side, below your ribs, above Adrie’s leg. Measured, methodical touches. Not accidents.

While his face lacked strong emotions, there were words in his eyes. Maybe they were an apology for the weirdness you now found yourselves in, or a thank you for taking her off his hands for a bit, or they were something else entirely. He didn’t say.

“You two have fun,” he expressed in his soft voice, and grabbed a cold soda on his way out.

~~~

A cold soda did not unwind him like a beer.

Eddie warmed himself by the barrel fire while the game played. Though any opportunity to talk with his peers rarely expanded past the usual topics of work and raising his daughter, and were frequently shadowed by what was happening on the screen, he didn’t mind the interruption. He knew the rules of the game enough to feel a sense of camaraderie when they celebrated. And really, he just wanted the time to think. Or not think. Definitely not think about how he reacted earlier, stumbling over his words to assure you he wasn’t some creep who hung mistletoe as a way to trick you into kissing him. Absolutely not agonize over his inability to articulate himself, and provide you with an out while also reminding himself why he shouldn’t listen to his impulse clawing to be released, and kiss you on the spot. And certainly not consider your mild response to the whole thing, and how your gaze lingered–for a millisecond–on his lips before you scooped Adrie into your arms.

Eddie ran the heel of palm along his jaw, back and forth, and worked it to the back of his neck, wringing his nape in tight squeezes to release the tension.

A beer was definitely better than soda, but so be it. He downed the rest of it, and justified going inside for another. Of course, his motives for going through the lobby weren’t to quench his thirst, but as he almost ran face-first into the glass door, his mouth went dry.

Your ass in the curve-hugging dress was the first thing he noticed. Noticed it because you were curled into the fetal position on the floor, pretending to die a dramatic death. Oh, and you were wearing a black cape adorned in shiny gold stars, and your mouse ears from Halloween, along with a crown.

The loud crunch of him crushing his soda can got your attention.

“You don’t always have to dress like a mouse for her; she knows who you are,” he said in cool nonchalance on his way to the fridge.

You pointed a pirate’s cutlass at him, regarding him down the plastic blade. “I’m the Rat King.”

The music on the portable radio changed moods from a battle march to a victorious, slow piece.

Ditching the mouse ears by throwing them aside into a small pile of other props, you instructed Adrie to exchange her rapier for a flower crown. “Ooh, ooh! And this is where Clara and the Nutcracker Prince dance. Yeah, hold my hand, lift your leg in arabesque. Just like that.” You walked around her, spinning her in a circle while she posed with her leg behind her, and when you let go, you granted her the stage to improv what ballet moves she knew through pop culture osmosis, clapping and gasping and cheering her on, both of you panting from the exertion of playing an entire cast of characters.

There was a pang in Eddie’s stomach. The usual stuff: wanting to watch, wanting to join, wanting to stop it. The jealousy of being left out of the intimate moment, the yearn to add a third to his and Adrie’s life, the grief of when things don’t work out and this was a mistake. Decisions, daydreams, the reality of you maybe moving away, maybe not. Maybe dating him, maybe not. Maybe making work a place he dreaded coming to again if he tried something and it ended in disaster.

He had no other job options.

And yet..

“Hey.” Eddie traced the rim of the chilled soda in his hand, collecting condensation. “Ah, the TV in there is playing those old claymation Christmas movies in a marathon. D’you guys wanna watch them with me?”

Teaching her to put her toe to her knee in the passé position, you asked, “Don’t you want to hang out and watch the game?” When he didn’t respond, you looked up at him. Immediately, your focus honed in on his shy habit of chewing on his bottom lip.

“Nah. Not really. I’d rather be in here.”

~~~

The breakroom lights were off, save for the dim set on either side of the sink lighting the buffet, and the air was humid from steam curling off the crockpots. On the table were three marshmallow snowmen held together by melted chocolate and pretzel stick arms; remnants of an impromptu competition of which he lost.

It was a warm and cozy affair, made more so by the three of you squished together to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on the small TV in the corner. 

Adrie nestled deeper into her baby blanket. She had the quilt cocooned around her, running her fingertips over her mouth while she watched. Beside her, you sat with your hands laced in your lap, and at the end, Eddie slumped diagonally in his seat, propping his elbow on the back of your chair. Half paying attention to the stop motion film, half congratulating himself on getting this far. It took all of Jack Frost to work up the courage to daintily set his elbow at the very corner of your chair, almost making contact with your shoulder without worrying if he sweated through his deodorant or cologne yet..

But what if his breath smelled bad from the weird combination of food he ate?

Fuck–

The golden retriever lounging on the floor behind Adrie wagged his tail. Kevin’s distinct shuffle came down the hallway. “Well here’s where you three gone off to,” he said. His dog lifted his head, and licked his lips in anticipation for a pet. “Don’t mind me, just came in for another pepperoni slice, isn’t that right, Coop?”

Cooper panted at his name.

Adrie mumbled around her fingers, “I love your puppy. He’s the best.”

“Yeah, she adores him,” you added.

“Aw, you’re a good boy, aren’t ya?” Kevin bent down to praise his dog with a couple of pets under the chin. And when he was finished, he made a fuss about his old knees, and the cold weather affecting them, and the–whatever else he said.

Upon struggling to stand, Kevin sought a place to put his hand for assistance–and wouldn’t you know, the perfect spot was right in front of him. He clutched Eddie’s forearm for purchase, which incidentally took him off guard before he could brace his muscles, and pinned it to the back of your chair. Once the move was complete, Kevin stood and patted the spot he held until Eddie’s arm curved flush against your shoulders. Then he winked and walked off, no longer shuffling. Eddie stared open-mouthed at the determination.

His insides clenched with unreleased tension. The holly hung in the doorway. Things he wasn’t supposed to do. Anxiety, nerves heightened with the sensation of your solid body breathing beneath the weight of him.

Adrie mumbled something about what was happening on screen, and you said something back, nodding.

It’s not like this was the first time he put his arm around a girl. But it was the first time he did so with the burden of pessimism warning him not to.

He scrutinized the side of your face for any sign of acknowledgement that his arm was around you, but if you cared, you didn’t show it. You remained poised as ever.

You didn’t mind, outwardly.

So he didn’t either.

It was only in front of his boss that he lifted his arm to comb the hair off his neck when Mr. Moore entered. And as soon as he was gone, Eddie strung it casually across the back of your chair again, twirling a curl of Adrie’s hair around his finger.

And when Carl came in, you sat forward for the entire duration of his stay, eating a marshmallow while he was in the room. And when he left, you sank back into your seat.

The third time someone came in, neither of you moved. You followed each other’s lead and did nothing. Subconsciously–or consciously–finding the courage to fit your bodies together in a purposeful way, relaxing towards one another, and slotting into the cushiony space his arm allowed against his bulky jacket.

Time went on like that.

The conversation between you two was the easy kind. Wordless, intuitive. Exchanged in the permanent grin affixed to his face, and your tender hums of affection when you looked at him or Adrie. Somewhere in the silent conversation, he summoned the balls to stroke his thumb–only once–over the soft slope of your bicep, and coped with the aftermath of studying the profile of your lips tugging up at the corners.

~~~

The party came to its natural conclusion when the game ended. Eddie scooped what was left in the crockpots into mismatched tupperware he brought from home, filling up an old butter container with chili, and rinsing out the cookware to give back to its original owner. He placed cupcakes in their plastic clamshell packaging, and downsized the veggie tray into a manageable load. You played the part of an amiable host, and wished everyone a happy holiday on their way out, insisting you’d take care of cleaning up. Really, it was no problem. You had Eddie with you, and Adrie was helping by falling asleep with a crayon in her hand.

Eddie listened to you usher them out the door, and lock it behind them once they drove away.

In truth, he preferred them gone when you both made trips to his car, loading the backseat with the leftovers. Didn’t matter if they were room temperature carrots, or the mangled overcooked meatballs from the bottom of the crockpot, he accepted them.

He took inventory of the last containers on the breakroom table while you woke up Adrie, and for once, he felt okay.

Normally stress chewed holes in his stomach this time of year, but knowing the panic of not paying the electric bill before incurring another late fee would be eliminated by the generous bonus Moore gave him in the white envelope tucked away in his inner jacket pocket, Eddie felt.. alright. Like things would be alright. He put enough aside for his daughter to have one big present this year, and things would be alright.

“Ready?” you asked, holding Adrie’s hand in the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s just these two containers, and we’re good. Were we doing anything about the decorations?”

“Nah.” You waved him off. “We can take them down after the break.”

More than happy to get home and reap the reward of a full night’s sleep, he picked her up mid-yawn, and you carried the last of the containers to the car for him. While you found available space to shove the tupperware without it spilling, Eddie swayed with Adrie. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, and closed his eyes, feeling himself meld into the drowsy moment, comforted by her weight in his arms.

He heard the gravel crunch from your movement, and your shivered exhale beneath your jacket. It was his turn to put Adrie in her carseat, but when he caught the dewy glimmer in your eye, he thought he might hold onto her for the next eternity if it meant he could earn that soft awe from you again.

However, it was cold out, and he should hurry up.

“Uh, there’s uh,” you started, standing back while he buckled Adrie in. “There’s actually one more thing inside.”

“There is?” he questioned dumbly. He glanced at your incessant finger guns pointed towards the back entrance door, and tried to picture what he left behind.

“Yeah, if you could just help me real quick.”

He shrugged and tucked the quilt tight around Adrie. “I’ll be right back, okay?” She nodded, and covered the lower half of her face with the blanket.

Still cool, calm, and collected, Eddie followed you into the garage, through the glass door, into the lobby, down the hallway, and stopped when you stopped. In the breakroom doorway. Under the..

He struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat.

Adrenaline raced to his nerves, to his brain, to his heart jumping in confusion. The addictive buzz enabled him to remember each detail of your lips parting, the sound of your shallow inhale, and the sting of doubt on his cheeks when you spun around and pried out the noisy keyring from your pocket, shaking them until you found the one to the storage closet.

You turned the key in the door opposite him in the hallway, and reached inside, into the dark. “I, uhm.. I got a present for Adrie, if that’s okay..”

“You..?” He went silent at the large gift bag you held out to him, with the giant portrait of jolly Saint Nick on the front bulging from what was inside.

Second guessing if you were overstepping boundaries with the gesture, you faltered, “If it’s not okay, I can, I guess–?”

“No, no,” he finally said, screwing his eyes shut at realizing he just stood there like a moron. “No, that’s, that’s so nice of you. I-I don’t even know what to say. Just, yeah.. You didn’t have to do something like that.” He accepted the bag, and hugged it to him, crushing the decorative tissue paper sticking out the top.

“I signed it as being from Santa. I figured that was appropriate.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s perfect. Uhm.. wow.”

He was doing his favorite trait–where his smile evolved into an open laugh; a little obnoxious, and a lot flirty–and he could tell when you beamed up at him and your cheesy grin overflowed into a giggle, it was your favorite trait too.

And you kept the presents rolling.

“As Office Administrator,” you said with a spry loveliness in your sidling up to him, “I have some insider knowledge that someone put in a good word for you, and uh, it looks like you’re getting a pretty nice raise at the beginning of the new year.” There was no mistaking who. “And I heard through the grapevine that Mr. Moore is going to start pulling from his retirement in June, and Misty isn’t interested in running the family business, so he’s seeking out a new owner,” you put more than a hint of inflection on the end of the sentence, and gave him a look.

You shrugged your shoulder to your chin. “Anyway, do with that information what you will.”

Eddie stayed stupefied, speechless, staring down at the bag. Because you were you, you ended the conversation with a weak punch to his arm when a car drove into the parking lot.

“That’s Robin,” you said.

He watched you walk away. Down the hall, into the lobby. Putting distance between him and the doorway to the breakroom, where his regrets taunted him.

The sharp leaves and red berries were lost amongst the shadows, but their warning rang true. The reasons he shouldn’t kiss you. The talk he never had with Adrie, the potential expiration date even if things did work out between you two, the issue of seeing each other every day and knowing he couldn’t handle the habitual rejection of ignoring the other’s existence if things went bad.

New year, same old coward.

Except.

An idea.

An impulse.

A vicious desire.

He rejected the rejection. “Wait!”

You turned, and jumped at his sudden appearance. Eyebrows raised in surprise, a fresh smile lighting up your face in the gentle moonlight.

Eddie stopped you by grabbing your hand, wielding you closer with his rough fingers pressed into your sweaty palm until your arms entwined, and your jackets rubbed. He dropped his head to the side with a shameful shake, and ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth, building to an apologetic admission. “I’m doing that thing again where I forget to thank you,” he said, not needing to speak above a whisper as he gazed down at you, unafraid.

“Then thank me,” you replied, curling your fingers around his.

His wavering voice went deeper in his chest, “Words don’t feel good enough anymore.” The bag under his arm crinkled as he lifted a finger at Robin who had come to peer inside the window, and very quickly made herself scarce after witnessing the moment she was intruding on. “You’re too sweet, and I don’t even get to drive you home.”

You encouraged him in a laugh. “Then think of another way to thank me that’s not transportation based.”

A bad thought bloomed warmth across his cheeks. “I will,” he promised, nodding. “I’ll find a better way to thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Adrie. Something good.”

“Looking forward to it.”

You lingered for a second, waiting, and when you both remained kissless, you rocked your body into him, cozying your sides together with your joined arms squeezed between in a sort of goodbye hug. “Speaking of Adrie, you might want to get back to her before she becomes a popsicle.”

He inhaled sharply and snapped his head up. “Yeah, I should probably go start the car.”

“Have a good holiday, Eddie. Get lots of rest over the break, okay?”

“I will, I will.”

With an absolutely astounding amount of memories made today, you were both content to step away from each other and go home to begin the tossing and turning, sickly sweet, cold-side-of-the-pillow reminiscing about the brave glances, and daring touches.

You reached for the door handle.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You stalled with your back facing him. Thinking you were sly, you checked the reflection to see what part of you his gaze was admiring, and you laughed.

Finally. He was making eye contact with you through the glass.

“Goodnight, handsome,” you answered, and left with your smile ducked into your collar.

The evening ended spectacularly.

[luxaofhesperides]

I'm not sure if you're still taking Ghostlights requests, but if you are: Dick asking Duke to take Haley to the dog park for him in order to set up a meet-cute for him with the guy with the weird green rottweiler

And if you aren't, just know that you're doing great and I appreciate the hell out of you

“Oh, shoot!” 

Hearing Dick rush around as a frantic mess is not uncommon while he’s in Gotham. There’s too many people wanting to spend time with him that he ends up pulled in a bunch of different directions. Dick’s always in a rush, always busy, always making time for people because he has more love than Duke has ever seen in a person.

Dick’s also got pretty good time management skills after years of doing this. He’s only cutting out a few minutes early for their designated three hour catch-up session. 

That doesn’t mean he’s going to do it gracefully, though.

“Almost lost track of the time!” he says, moving to the couch to pick up his jacket. “Hey, Duke, can do you me a favor while I’m out?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Can you take Haley to the dog park? I usually take her twice a week around this time, but I totally forgot to include that in my calendar this week so I’ve got plans with the Titans just outside the city, and no time to take her out.”

“Yeah, man, of course I can take her to the dog park. The one attached to Robinson Park, right?”

Dick nods, shoving his shoes onto his feet. “That’s the one! Her treats are also in the bag hanging next to her leash. Oh, and she has a friend at the dog park! Don’t be scared when you see him, he’s just green.”

“Oh…kay?”

“Great, thanks! Bye, Duke, I’ll see you later!”

And with that, Dick is gone, closing the door to his safehouse as he dashes into the hall. 

Duke is left alone in Dick’s Gotham safehouse, blinking dazedly at the empty space where he once was. He’s certainly a whirlwind of activity when he realizes he’s going to be late. He’s also skilled in just saying things and leaving before any questions can be answered.

Haly jumps up onto the couch next to Duke. They share a look, then Duke shakes his head. “You have to deal with that every day, huh?”

Haly, the good girl that she is, doesn’t say anything bad against her owner and just puts a paw on Duke’s thigh, her tail wagging. 

“I hear ya, girl. Let’s go to the dog park to meet your green friend,  I guess.”

He has no idea what that means, honestly. Is Dick just talking about a dog that got its fur dyed green? Or is Haly’s friend like… a mutant dog? 

Well, he’s not going to find out by stalling. 

Duke pets Haly, then stands up and walks to the door. Her head perks up as soon as she hears the jangle of her leash being moved, and then she’s running to the door, looking up at him expectantly. Smiling, Duke slips the harness onto her, then attached it to the leash. He gives her another quick pet before shoving on his shoes and grabbing her bag of treats and waste disposal bags. 

He double checks that he has his phone, then takes hold of Dick’s spare safehouse key and steps out into the hallway with Haly. She waits patiently as he locks the door, checks that the lock holds, then runs down the hallway, ripping the leash right out of his hands.

“Haly! Wait! Stop, girl!”

She happily ignores him and goes straight for the elevator, leaving him to run after her and quickly scoop up the leash as soon as he’s close enough.

“Of course you’re a little escape artists,” he says to her, “Just like your owner.”

Haly woofs softly, then stands up and scratches at the doors of the elevator. Shaking his head, amused, Duke pushes the button to call the elevator and wonders if Dick has to deal with this every time they go to the dog park. 

On one hand, it wouldn’t surprise him since Dick is absolutely the kind of guy to give in to his dog’s every whims and spoil her rotten. On the other hand, Duke fully believes that Haly is smart enough and cute enough to misbehave only when Dick isn’t around so he never believes people when they try to tell him about all the mischief she’s caused. 

Dogs and their owners really do reflect one another. The internet was right about that.

Duke makes sure to keep a tight grip on Haly’s leash once they leave the apartment building. The streets are busy, as they tend to be on weekends, and the sight of Haly straining against her leash, ready to run, brings a smile to more than one face. 

He plots the route to the dog park in his mind, then starts up a light jog, tugging lightly on the leash to prompt Haly to follow him. 

It’s nice to run just for the sake of it. Haly makes a good running partner as well. 

How long has it been since Duke had time to relax and not be prepared for the worst? All the running he usually does these days is to catch up with criminals or run for his life. Being out during the day, moving through the city, without any lives in danger? Genuinely nice and relaxing. 

Maybe he can offer to take Haly to the dog park from now on. Join Dick whenever he goes. Create a set few hours where he doesn’t do anything but enjoy being outside in one of the few places where the smog of pollution and chemical toxins isn’t so thick in the air. 

He’ll just have to make sure Dick doesn’t agree to something else during those days. It’s still strange to think that Dick could forget to do something involving Haly when he’s such a good dog owner and a pro at juggling various responsibilities and a busy schedule. 

Well, they all have off days. This must be one of Dick’s.

The sidewalks get wider once they reach the street that leads to the park. Families fill up the space, walking with strollers in front of them or lined up at a food cart. The vivid green of spring fills the grassy fields that lead to the large patches of trees, marking the edge of Poison Ivy’s territory. Clovers decorate the ground, bees moving from flower to flower. 

There are other dogs on walks as well, making circuits around the park or running after toys. Duke spots a cat in a walking harness as well and wonders if he can convince Damian to get one for Alfred the cat. 

The dog park is on the other end of the park, as far away from Ivy’s territory as possible. The fenced off areas are separated into big dogs and small dogs, with a helpful guide as to which dogs go where posted at the entrance. 

Duke slows to a walk, breathing deeply to help settle his heart rate back down to something normal. Haly walks by his side, tail wagging, as she watches the other dogs run back and forth behind the fence. 

She’s still small, just growing out of puppy size, so Duke leads her into the small dog area, carefully making sure the gate doesn’t open enough for any quick dogs to make a break for it. He walks over to a bench and sits down before undoing the harness on her, setting her loose. 

Haly licks his hand once, then darts away, barking lightly as she joins the other dogs tumbling around each other. 

Amused, Duke leans back at watches as the other dogs sniff her, then do their funny little bowing stomps, moving back and forth before running off so she can give chase. 

He figures staying for an hour will be good enough. That should get the most of her energy out, and then they can make the long trek back to Dick’s safehouse so he can pick her up before he heads back to Bludhaven. Pulling out his phone, Duke settles in to wait, keeping half his attention on Haly just in case any of the other dogs decide to get a little too rough.

The first twenty minutes pass peacefully. Haly runs around and the owners of the other dogs give her pets when she runs up to them. One even went over to Duke to offer him a pack of fruit gummies. 

Then a loud bark fills the air and Duke jerks upright, watching with wide eyes as a colossally large dog, green and glowing and slightly transparent, comes barrelling down the street, headed right towards them. 

He doesn’t have time to yell Haly’s name before the dog is in the fence. None of the other dog owners look alarmed, though, so he watches carefully, prepared to jump up and save Haly at a moment’s notice.

“Cujo!” someone yells from down the street. A guy with dark hair comes running up and smoothly jumps over the fence. “Cujo, how many times do I have to tell you not to run off like that?”

The green dog, apparently Cujo, barks happily.

“And you’re too big for this park right now, buddy. Shrink, boy. It’s time to be small.”

And then Cujo… obeys? The dog shrinks, and instead of being the size of a bus, it’s now small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. 

Green dog is not enough warning for all of that. Dick owes him so much for this.

Actually, he’s kind of shocked that Dick never mentioned this to anyone. Surely a giant green dog would get people’s attention. Why is this the first time he’s heard about it?

“You new around here?” someone asks, and Duke turns to see the person who gave him the fruit gummies.

“Kinda? It’s my first time coming to the dog park. I’m looking after Haly, that one right over there.” He points out Haly, who is running in circles around Cujo.

“Ah, I see. Dick mentioned someone new would be coming today.”

Duke narrows his eyes. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s been set up for something, but he’s not sure what. 

“I’ll give you the spiel we tell all newcomers, in that case,” they continue. “Cujo is a ghost dog. Poor thing died during some animal testing, far as we know. Danny looks after him, since Cujo got attached to the kid years ago before he moved to Gotham. He’s a kind one, but very nervous, and we’ve all got an agreement to keep quiet about him and Cujo round this parts. You better be holding your tongue, as well, ya hear me?”

“Sure thing,” Duke nods. “My lips are sealed.”

He’ll just ask Dick about the ghost dog situation and do his own investigation if needed. But Cujo is just a dog, and his owner is just a guy. Nothing threatening, nothing requiring a Bat’s attention.

“Good,” they nod. “I’ll get out of your hair now.” They’re gone before Duke can reply, adjusting the hat on their head as they head back to their group in the back left corner of the dog park. 

Satisfied that things are under control, Duke relaxes back into the bench, watching Haly and Cujo tumble around with the other dogs, barking happily. Haly’s still growing into her paws, so she trips and falls often, but gets up without a moments pause, ready to keep playing.

From the corner of his eyes, Duke catches sight of someone walking towards him. 

He looks over and finds Cujo’s owner—Danny, wasn’t it?—approaching. Their eyes meet, and Danny offers him a sheepish smile and a wave. His eyes are a dark blue that seem to glow with some otherworldly light, and Duke can swear he sees something shifting around him, as if the air has turned visible and twists around his body like wisps of smoke. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Danny asks, and Duke moves to the side a bit.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“You’re Duke, right? Dick told me about you last week.”

It’s looking more and more like Dick is up to something, and Duke will need to get his revenge. “Did he? All good things, I hope.”

“Aha, yeah, all good things. Um, actually I think I should apologize? I maybe said you sounded like my type so Dick promised that he’d get you here somehow. Sorry if this is messing up your plans for the day.”

Oh. Oh! 

Well. That’s interesting. 

Duke quietly shelves his plans for revenge against Dick and takes a proper look at Danny. He’s shy, but with a bright smile, glowing eyes and strange smoke curling around him still, and messy black hair windswept from chasing after Cujo. There’s a flush in his cheeks and his long fingers fiddle with the string of his dark red hoodie. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t have any plans today. This is way better than just sleeping all day.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Danny laughs, “There’s nothing I like more than being able to sleep all day. That would fix me for sure.”

There’s a loud bark, and Danny’s eyes snap back to Cujo, who is growing bigger. “Cujo!” Danny yells, voice sharp. “Shrink down, or we go home.”

Cujo grumbles, whines, then goes back to being little. The green dog only has a moment to look sad before Haly is tackling him, sending them back into another chase around the park. 

“Sorry about that,” Danny says, slouching against the bench. 

“It’s all good,” Duke replies. “So. I’m your type, huh?”

Danny’s cheeks turn a deep, charming red. He looks away, then nods and ducks his head down. 

“And that hasn’t changed after meeting me?”

Danny shakes his head, then peeks over at Duke, gaze slowly moving up his body until he meets Duke’s eyes. “Definitely hasn’t changed,” he says.

Now it’s Duke’s turn to feel his cheeks burn, flustered and pleasantly surprised by Danny’s boldness. It doesn’t help that Danny is cute, someone he can see himself falling for. 

“Good,” he says, then knocks his knee against Danny’s. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. On one condition.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Tell me what Dick told you about me. I wanna make sure he wasn’t sharing an embarrassing stories about me. If I’m gonna make a fool of myself, then I’ll do it myself with no outside help.”

Danny’s laugh is bright and warm and sends butterflies dancing in Duke’s stomach. “Fair enough!” he says. “And you know what? I’ll trade you for embarrassing stories. Trust me, I have so many. Nothing you’ve done can be worse that the dumb shit I do on a regular basis.”

“Woah, woah, woah, confident, aren’t we? Don’t say that until you’ve heard about some of the stupid situation I choose to throw myself into.”

“Please, I’m an younger brother. If anyone knows how to be stupid, it’s me.”

“I’m part of the disaster that is the Wayne family. I think that has you beat.”

“My parents are mad scientists and my dog is a ghost. Try again.” The teasing smile on Danny’s lips makes him want to be reckless, to keep pushing, to go down this path as far as he can.  Duke can’t remember the last time he clicked with someone so instantly, to be so comfortable with them so soon. 

Damn. He’s gonna have to thank Dick for this, isn’t he?

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Duke pulls it out with an apologetic smile to Danny, who leans back a bit to give him some privacy.

The text that pops up is from Dick. It’s a photo of him and Danny from the side, heads bent close together as they talk with bright smiles. He can just make out the wild red curls of Kori’s hair. 

“I’m gonna put jello in his socks,” Duke says cheerfully, already looking around to find where Dick is hiding. 

He probably already moved locations, the ass. 

“What’s up?” 

He holds out his phone so Danny can see the screen. Danny stares at it, then looks around, then stares at the screen again. 

“...Is he watching us?”

“Yep.”

“...Should we do something about it?”

Duke shrugs. “I mean, I’m up for hunting him down and tackling him if you are.”

“I can do you one better,” Danny says with a sharp grin. He whistles, and Cujo comes running over, Haly at his heels, and he skids to a stop to sit before Danny. “Cujo. You remember Dick?” Cujo barks, as if answering. “Fetch! Go fetch Dick!”

Cujo jumps to his feet, grows from the size of a pug to a bear, and takes off for the art instillation farther into Robinson Park. Moments later, they hear a yell followed by loud laughter, and Cujo and running back, Dick hanging from his mouth, with Kori, Donna, and Roy following after him at a leisurely stroll. 

“I think we’re gonna get along great,” Duke says. “He’s gonna wish he never set us up.”

“That’s the way to do it,” Danny agrees.

“Say, wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?”

Danny blinks, then blushes again. “What, like a date?”

“Yeah, as a date. You up for it?”

“How could I say no? I was promised embarrassing stories.”

He watches as Cujo drops a rumpled looking Dick to the ground, half his shirt soaked with saliva. He dramatically mimes being shot in the heart when he sees them both looking at him, and goes limp when Kori picks him up and tries to set him on his feet. 

Then he tries to act very calm and cool as Danny leans against him. “Think he’s gonna follow up on our date?” Danny asks in a low voice.

Duke closes his eyes and tries not to despair. He didn’t even think of that. “Worse. He’s going to tell everyone else, then we’ll have every available Wayne kid stalking us on our date.”

“Guess I’ll have to rely on you to chase them off, huh?”

“Or we can sic Cujo on them again.”

“Or that,” Danny nods. “It’s always effective.”

He’s really going to have to bring his best to the date tomorrow, just to stay a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe he’ll ask Barbara for a favor and get her to lead them off? And if Bruce gets involved, then Duke is fully prepared to flashbang him, grab Danny, and run. 

It’s going to be a disaster.

It’s going to be fun.

He’s already looking forward to it, and from the mischievous smile on Danny’s face, he’s not the only one.

[jamespmarchapologist]

Asphyxiation

prompt : makeshift NSFW alphabet. A is for Asphyxiation with… Kai Anderson (makes sense doesn’t it)

warnings : 18+ audiences only - mature content. kai is a warning in its own. breath/breathing play. degradation. slight angst. talks/alludes of manipulation. overstimulation. no aftercare, cause.. it’s literally kai. manipulation/stockholm syndrome. mere death - but he stops.

“You nasty little bitch, you actually like this?” A low growl rumbled from the bottom of Kai’s throat as he loomed down at you like a predator stalking its prey.

You knew he was easy to piss off, but you’re certain you’ve definitely fucked up majorly this time. You had purposely skipped out of not one, not two, but three meetings to go out with your friends to get back at him because you were mad that his attention strayed off you and onto Meadow.

Maybe it was a bit much, and maybe you were being dramatic about what he does for the “cause”, yeah, but you were tired of being some kind of live-in maid to him and not his girlfriend. Kai would never want to hear your peace, though.

That’s how you ended up here. It was the fourth meeting you skipped, and he had enough. As soon as you walked in the door that evening, his meeting was immediately cut short and you were quite literally dragged up the stairs and into your room.

"You think you can avoid me, avoid us, and I would just let you walk in that fucking door unpunished?" He rumbles, his voice its usual when he was out of control of his emotions, dark and filled with emptiness, void of empathy. Oh, you definitely fucked up, you were sure there's no going back from this and you'd be watched like a hawk for the rest of your life under Kai's control.

Kai slammed the door behind you two, pad locking the wood so he wouldn't be disturbed, or risk someone coming in trying to check up on you after he'd have his way with you. As if, in his mind right now Kai didn't think you even deserved such an opportunity.

“I asked you a goddamn question.” His voice picked up several octaves, his eyes matching the inner rage that burned within him. He was fully in front of you now, hands gripping painfully onto your shoulders as he forced you to keep eye contact with him.

“No, divine ruler.”

“That’s more like it, bitch. I guess I need to remind you what your place is. Where your place is.”

Within a mere second, your little black dress you had worn that night was ripped off of your body, sending a vibration down to your very core. You hated, but also loved when he was like this, but you had never seen him this.. enraged. Before you could even grasp the severity, as soon as his eyes caught sight of you choosing to wear a sheer thong, his eyes turned fully black, irises practically disappearing.

“What the FUCK is this, huh?” He shouted near your ear, making you wince. “Just begging to get fucked by some stranger? God, I bet you would’ve taken the first cock that approached you.”

Okay, his words hurt more now that you knew he actually meant them.

“N..No, sir. Just want yours..” You whimpered up at him as he slowly backs you up against the wall, using a hand to create a death grip on your hip and pushed you against the wall. It was embarrassing how soaked you were in that moment, you couldn’t help it. Deep down, you knew there was something twisted in you that made you want to stay right where you were. You would die for him, just to feel this way.

“Speak. Up.” Kai’s free hand raised to wrap around your neck, squeezing down as he watches your eyes still continue to sparkle up at him. As if… he was giving you what you’ve desired your whole sad life.

“I said.” You took the time to clear your throat. Well, as much as you physically could. “I just want your cock, divine ruler. No one else’s.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, hoping that you would be able to calm him down just enough that he would drop his grip on your neck.

Instead, he squeezed down tighter as your doe eyes looked up at him. God, you really were that impressionable. “You’re such a fucking slut.”

He squeezed tighter, his veins were prominent in his hands. He took his other hand from off of your hip, snaking it into your thong and shook his head once his finger dipped into your wetness. “You sick little bitch. I’m practically killing you and you’re soaking your desperate little cunt.”

You were at a point that you were sure you couldn’t even find the time to breath, your face starting to turn pale as your blurred vision made it feel like the room was spinning and you weren’t even there. Your lips open to speak but the words are stuck in your throat.

Kai’s finger presses against the juggler in your throat as he slipped two fingers inside of your aching pussy, the pleasure shooting up and further made you feel as if you were floating. Your hands desperately start to claw against his arm in a weak attempt to lighten his grip. But of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

A few harsh thrusts into your sweet cunt, and you’re cumming around his fingers, not even registering your orgasm due to his hand that kept you against the wall from your throat. You didn’t realize that your heels were no longer planted on the floor, instead forcibly wrapped around your ruler’s waist. Oh, how he loved manhandling such a pretty little lamb.

“Who do you belong to, whore?” He growls into your ear, tightening his grip on your throat that your vision almost went black.

“Y… y-you..” You float out, not feeling connected to your body or your words.

His usual cocky smirk played on his lips and with the little mercy he had, he finally loosens his grip and drops you, a menacing chuckle slipping past his lips as he looked down at your aching form and tilting his head mockingly. He always thought you looked the prettiest after he had his way with you.

“Now, if you excuse me. I have a meeting to run, little one. We’re not done here.”

And with that, you’re left on the floor, thankful for your divine ruler and his plans ahead.

a/n : i finished this all in one sitting at near 2am… be nice to me :(

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Getting Kidnapped - BNHA/MHA

Features: Tomura Shigaraki, Shouta Aizawa and Kai Chisaki

A/n: I thought of this while I was taking a nap LMAO, let's get started and be sure to check out the rest of my writings...(there's only like 3 or 4 at this point :sob:)... it's very short but whatever, I enjoy being funny and writing this so yeah baby :))))

TOMURA SHIGARAKI -

You really didn't know how you got there. You were shocked but not that shocked, it was bound to happen eventually.

"Damn it's dark as a motherfucker in here. I just know they can't pay the light bill." Then the lights turn on to reveal the LOV.

"Oh...I guess you do pay the light bill. Hello." You go to wave but your hands are tied against the back of the chair.

"Greetings, L/n Y/n. Do you know why you're here?" "Nope." He pauses and just stares at you.

"You know some information that we don't, I'm going to need you to talk doll. Or else we'll torture you."

"You calling me pet names is already enough torture for me, crusty." You hear someone stifle a laugh from behind you.

"Glad to hear that someone enjoys my humor. Anyways, you got some water or something." Then your chair starts to get dragged into another room.

"That's right Dabi, take them into your room. Interrogate them." The door closes behind the two of you.

Time to work your own personal magic.

A couple of hours later, Shigaraki opens the door to Dabi's room, somber music plays in the background while you sit on the floor, untied, having a conversation with the burned man.

"Dabi! What are you doing?!" Tomura rips the hand off of his face and holds it tightly in his hands.

"Talking." He lays back on his bed, his head falling off the side of the bed.

"Why did you untie them?" He points at you and all you do is wave back with a big smile.

"They said the restraints were hurting them so I just untied them." Tomura shuts the door and lets out a scream of annoyance.

You laugh and whisper to Dabi. "Somebody's got their panties in a twist, don't they?"

SHOUTA AIZAWA -

As soon as you reached for an item inside of a random home, something tied tightly around your wrist.

"What the?" One sharp tug later and you're wrapped up tight, hanging upside-down from the ceiling. "Fuck..." You draw out the word in annoyance

You go to use your quirk and it doesn't work, nothing happens. Then a man with long black hair and tired eyes steps into the brightness of the moonlight from the darkness.

"Couldn't you do this another night or something?" He rubs his eyes and stares at you.

He walks around your bounded form as you try to spin yourself to look at the powerful homeowner.

"I mean I could, if you let me go that is." You flash a smile at him as he raises his brows.

"Afraid I can't do that. You'll be coming with me to the police station...in the morning. It's too late to be doing that now." Your eyes widened.

A handsome stranger taking you to jail...in the morning. IS HE STUPID?

"What if I find a way to escape from the restraints? What then?"

He tilts his head, a small grin finding its way onto his features. "You won't. You can't break this material."

He ties the end of the fabric to a hook and walks into a different room.

"Wait what about the blood rushing to my head!"

He comes back in and with a single pull of the fabric, you're tilted sideways like sleeping on a bed.

When the morning comes, a little girl is looking at you very confused. "Who are you?"

"Your Dad's friend, I was playing around with his scarf and got stuck. Could you help me?"

The little girl, without a second thought, unties the fabric from your body. You find a pen and a piece of paper to write down your number on to then, hand it to the girl.

"Give him this when he wakes up and no peeking."

You open the balcony door and wave goodbye to the girl before jumping off the glass railing. You shoot upward and rest on the roof, holding your phone in your hand, waiting eagerly for his response.

---inside the home---

"Mr. Aizawa." She pokes his side a bit hard which wakes him up.

"What's wrong Eri?"

She hands him a folded piece of paper.

"Your friend told me to give you this. They just left a bit ago."

His eyes widened as he shot up from his spot in bed, rushing into the living area. He opened the note and smirked, shaking his head.

The note read: 'that cute little girl let me out, told you I could leave...call me! xxx-xxx-xxxx XOXO'

KAI CHISAKI -

"Wow...this is a beautiful place you got here? Why am I tied up?"

He rolls his amber eyes and lays the chair against the couch behind you. He almost straddles your waist but he just stands there, looking down at you.

"You're filthy, I plan on fixing you."

You look at him with confusion. "I literally showered as soon as I got home from my job, what do you mean weirdo?"

He hated that nickname, his fingertips played with the bottom of his gloves. The glove comes off and he reaches forward to touch you, nothing happens

...his hands are really warm and soft.

"You must not do a lot of hard work since your hands are soft... you either moisturize or you're just lazy and have servants."

He's in shock but then scoffs at your comments.

"I'm a doctor but I can't cure you. You're still filthy."

You just shrug and smile up at him happily. "Okay, whatever you say plague guy. You'd probably die if you had a sip of McDonald's Sprite."

...what?

[rootedinrevisions]

Painted Him Perfect

SUMMARY: Inspired by Alexandra Kay’s song "Painted Him Perfect." Tyler and his soon-to-be ex-wife grapple with the stark reality of their crumbling marriage as she makes her way to Oklahoma to finalize their divorce. Despite the façade of a perfect relationship portrayed to their fans, her heartfelt video revealing their separation exposes the cracks hidden beneath the surface.

WARNINGS: ANGST. DIVORCE.

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

She stared into the camera, her finger hovering over the record button. It felt strange—foreign, even—to sit in front of the camera like this, alone. The space next to her on the couch seemed too big, too empty. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

With a shaky breath, she pressed record.

“Hey guys,” she started, her voice soft but clear, “I know you’ve all been wondering... asking where my ring is, and why I haven’t been around much lately.” Her throat tightened, but she pushed forward. “It’s hard to say this, and I’m a little embarrassed, but... I guess it’s time I be honest.”

The camera was unforgiving, capturing every flicker of pain in her eyes, the quiver in her voice that she tried so hard to hide. 

She paused, swallowing hard. Just say it, she told herself. Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Tyler and I... we’re in the process of separating.” The words were out now, floating in the space between her and the camera, no longer just a thought she could bury deep inside. “I... we gave it everything we had. But sometimes, even when you love someone, it’s not enough to fix what's broken.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to stay strong, for them, for herself. “The truth is, I painted him perfect. I painted our relationship perfect. I wanted to believe that what we had was flawless, but... it wasn’t. And it’s time we both move on.”

With trembling fingers, she reached out and stopped the recording. The silence in the room felt deafening. She stared at the dark screen for a moment, letting the gravity of what she’d just said sink in. It was done. The video was out there, and soon, everyone would know the truth.

Hours later, the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road was the only thing keeping her tethered to the present as she drove. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the divorce papers lying in the seat beside her like an unspoken weight. The highway stretched endlessly in front of her, but her thoughts were stuck on the video she’d recorded earlier.

I guess it’s time I be honest...

She’d replayed those words a dozen times since pressing upload, still second-guessing if she’d said too much, or too little. Had she painted herself too much as the victim? Had she been too hard on Tyler? Or maybe, she’d gone too easy on him. After all, he’d let her do all the talking. He hadn’t been the one sitting there in front of the camera, baring his soul. That had been her.

I painted pink skies at sunrise to cover all the blue... she thought bitterly. For years, she’d made excuses, drawn pretty pictures over the cracks in their marriage so no one would see.

Seven years. It felt like a lifetime, but also like it had gone by in a blur. High school sweethearts, everyone had called them the perfect couple. She’d believed it too, for a long time. She’d even convinced herself that love was supposed to hurt sometimes, that the sleepless nights spent waiting for him to come home, the tears shed quietly so no one else would hear—that was what real commitment looked like.

The reality, though, had been far different. The long-distance stretches while Tyler was off filming for the channel, the pressure to always be “on” for their audience, the way they’d smile through the tension in front of the camera, and then barely speak off it... It had eaten away at them, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to salvage.

A sharp pang of regret twisted in her chest as the road signs blurred past. She didn’t know if she was more upset about the end of their marriage or the fact that she had to drive all the way to Oklahoma to finalize it. Just his signature, she thought, glancing at the divorce papers again. Then it's done.

But why did it feel so unfinished? Why did a part of her still ache to see him? To talk to him one last time? Would this be the closure she needed, or just another painful reminder of how far they’d fallen?

She sighed heavily, turning up the music on the radio, trying to drown out her thoughts. The fans would know by now. The comments had probably started pouring in—shocked, confused, supportive, heartbroken. She hadn’t checked yet. She wasn’t ready to face it. What she’d told the camera had been the truth, but somehow, it still felt like a betrayal.

“Tyler and I... we’re in the process of separating.”

The phrase echoed in her mind. Even saying it aloud had felt surreal. How had they gotten here? The perfect couple. The YouTube sensation. The high school sweethearts that everyone thought had it all. We painted it perfect—a lie they both were complicit in.

She gripped the wheel tighter as she neared Oklahoma, her heart pounding in her chest. Would he fight it? Would he avoid signing the papers like he had been doing for weeks? So much so that she was now driving to where he was because he refused to come home. Would he try to stop her from walking away? Or would he finally just sign the papers, let her go, and close this chapter of their lives?

The thought of seeing him again stirred up something painful and raw. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the idea that he’d try to convince her to stay one last time or the fear that he wouldn’t.

The neon motel sign flickered dimly in the distance, casting a dull, orange glow on the cracked pavement. As she pulled into the parking lot, her heart sank further into the pit of her stomach. This was it—the place where everything was about to end. The place where she'd officially close the chapter on a love she'd clung to for too long.

She parked and sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the dashboard, trying to steady her nerves. Tyler and his crew hadn’t arrived yet. The thought brought a small wave of relief, but it didn’t last long. He’d be here soon enough. She’d have to face him, and there’d be no more hiding behind a screen or carefully crafted words. No more painted pink skies.

With a deep breath, she grabbed her overnight bag and made her way to the office, the cool night air doing little to ease the tension winding through her body. The clerk handed her a room key without much fanfare, barely making eye contact as he rattled off the directions. She thanked him quietly before heading to her room.

Once inside, she dropped her bag on the floor and sank onto the edge of the bed. She texted Tyler that she was there and what room she was in. Then she looked around. The room was small, plain—just a bed, a TV, and a small table near the window. It was far from the kind of places she and Tyler used to stay when they traveled together for his channel, but maybe that was fitting. Their relationship wasn’t anything like it used to be either.

She kicked off her shoes, curling her legs up under her as she sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall. The silence was suffocating, the weight of her decision pressing down on her more than she had anticipated. She needed a distraction, something to fill the space, so without thinking, she reached for her phone.

She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the YouTube app. She hadn’t looked at the comments since posting the video. A part of her didn’t want to. But the other part—the part that had shared her life with these people for years—needed to know how they were reacting. Did they hate her? Did they blame her? Or maybe they were just as confused as she was.

Opening the app, her video was the first thing to pop up on her feed. The thumbnail image was a still of her sitting on the couch, her eyes downcast, hands folded in her lap. She clicked on it and scrolled down to the comments, bracing herself for whatever she might find.

The messages were already flooding in. Thousands of them. Some were supportive:

"We love you, and we’re here for you, no matter what. 💖"

"I can’t believe this... You and Tyler were my favorite couple, but I respect your decision. It must have been so hard."

"I always looked up to you two. My heart’s breaking, but I understand."

She blinked back tears as she read through more of them. Some were shocked:

"What? I never saw this coming!"

"Please tell me this isn’t real... you two seemed so perfect together."

And then there were the ones that cut deep, even though she knew they didn’t mean to:

"I thought you guys were the real deal. It’s hard to believe all those vlogs were just a lie."

"I don’t know how to feel about this. I feel like I’ve been watching a fake relationship this whole time."

She bit her lip, scrolling faster, her chest tightening with every message. It wasn’t a lie. She and Tyler had loved each other. Maybe they still did, in a way. But what they had wasn’t enough anymore. They had grown apart, and pretending otherwise would’ve been cruel—to themselves and to the people who’d supported them for so long.

Her finger paused over a comment that stopped her in her tracks.

"Why didn’t you fight harder to save it? Real love is worth fighting for."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, and she quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to spill. She had fought. She had given it everything she had—four-hour drives one way just to see him for a night. She had sat through numerous sessions of couple’s therapy with tears in her eyes, hoping, praying that they could fix what was broken. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

She threw the phone down on the bed, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair. Why did she look at the comments? What had she expected? Closure? Validation? She didn’t know. But now, sitting in this dim motel room, alone with her thoughts, all she felt was regret. Maybe not for the video, but for the way things had turned out.

The truth was, she had to be honest with them. She owed it to the fans who had supported them, who had cheered for their relationship, even when things were far from perfect behind the scenes. They deserved to know why she wouldn’t be around anymore. They deserved the truth.

But it didn’t make it any easier.

She leaned back against the headboard, pulling the thin motel blanket over her legs as she closed her eyes. Her mind wandered back to the good times, the times before everything had gone wrong. The road trips, the late-night filming sessions, the moments that felt so real, so genuine. She had painted those moments perfect in her mind, just like she had in the videos.

But now the paint was peeling, and all that was left underneath was the raw truth. They had fallen apart, and there was no covering it up anymore.

The sound of tires crunching gravel outside made her sit up straight, her heart jumping in her chest. She stood and moved to the window, peeking through the thin curtain. Tyler’s truck had just pulled into the lot.

He was here.

Her heart raced as she watched him get out of the truck, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was dreading this meeting just as much as she was. His crew began unloading their gear from the back, but her eyes stayed locked on Tyler.

This was it. The moment of truth.

She stepped away from the window, her body tense as she moved back to the bed, her thoughts spinning. In a few minutes, she’d face him again. The man she’d spent nearly a decade of her life with. The man who, despite everything, still held a part of her heart.

And all she had to do was get him to sign the papers.

A soft knock echoed through the small motel room, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. Her heart stuttered as she stood, wiping her clammy hands on her jeans before making her way to the door. She hesitated for a second, hand hovering over the knob. She wasn’t ready for this—for the finality of it all. But it had to be done.

With a deep breath, she turned the handle and pulled the door open.

There he was, standing just outside her door, looking as worn and exhausted as she felt. Tyler’s eyes met hers for only a split second before darting away, his jaw tense, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and something about the sight of him made her chest tighten.

"Hey," she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

"Hey." His voice was low, hoarse even, as he walked past her into the room. He paused in the middle of the small space, turning slightly as she closed the door behind them, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, weighed down by everything left unsaid. She stood by the door, leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest. Tyler shifted on his feet, his eyes glued to the floor, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So... the video.”

She swallowed hard, the guilt already gnawing at her. “Yeah.”

Tyler lifted his head slightly, meeting her gaze for the first time since he walked in. There was a tightness around his eyes, a frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “You didn’t tell me you were going to post it.”

Her stomach twisted at the hurt in his voice. "I thought we talked about—"

“We talked about saying something, but we didn’t agree to this,” he interrupted, his voice sharp but not angry. Just... tired. “You went ahead and posted it without even running it by me.”

She exhaled, pressing her back harder against the door. “I know. I’m sorry. I just... I felt like I had to do it. People were starting to ask questions, and it didn’t feel right to leave them in the dark.”

“And it felt right to tell the whole world before we even finished this?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with emotion. “Before we talked about this in person? Before we even signed the damn papers?”

His words hit harder than she expected. She had told herself she was doing the right thing, that she owed it to their fans to be honest. But she hadn’t considered how Tyler would feel, how he might see it as another layer of their relationship unraveling without him being able to stop it.

She dropped her gaze to the floor, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just... I needed to be honest with them.”

There was a long pause, the air between them thick with unsaid words. Tyler rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a breath like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Are you really sure you want to do this? End it like this?”

Her heart clenched painfully at the question. She had known this moment would come, that he’d ask. And yet, standing here, face-to-face with him, she still wasn’t sure how to answer. She felt like she’d been unraveling for years, trying to hold onto a marriage that was slipping through her fingers. But now, standing in front of the man she’d loved for more than a decade, she wasn’t sure if letting go was the right thing anymore.

Tyler took a step closer, his eyes pleading. “We can fix this. We can try again—go to a different therapist, take some time away from everything, whatever it takes. Just... don’t throw it all away. Not like this.”

Her chest ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the desperation that was so unlike him. This was Tyler—confident, easygoing Tyler who had always been the strong one, the steady one. But now, here he was, asking her to give them one more shot, to believe in what they once had, even though she wasn’t sure she could anymore.

“I don’t want to give up on us,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I still love you. I know things haven’t been perfect, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to try one more time?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. She had wanted to believe that for so long—that if they just worked harder, they could fix what was broken. She had made excuses for their distance, for the growing cracks in their relationship, because she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. But now, after everything, she didn’t know if they could go back to the way things were.

“I don’t know if I have anything left to give,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tyler’s face fell, and for a moment, she thought he might walk out right then. But instead, he took another step toward her, his hand reaching out to touch her arm gently. “We don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just... let’s not make any decisions tonight. Let’s take some time. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Her resolve wavered, and she hated herself for it. She had been so sure, so certain that this was the right thing. But now, standing here in the same room with him, she could feel her walls crumbling. A part of her still wanted to believe that they could make it, that they could find their way back to each other.

But another part of her knew that they were too far gone.

She stepped back slightly, creating space between them even though it hurt to do so. “Talking tomorrow isn’t going to change anything.”

“I’m not ready to give up,” he said, his voice thick. “But if you are… I guess I don’t have a choice.”

His hand fell to his side, and for a long moment, they just stood there in silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. Tyler’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening even as the hurt shone through his eyes. Slowly, his gaze drifted to the small table by the window where the divorce papers lay, neatly stacked, the pen resting on top of them.

The silence stretched between them, oppressive, until finally, Tyler moved. He walked toward the table, his movements slow and deliberate. She watched as he picked up the pen, holding it in his hand like it weighed a thousand pounds.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at the papers. She saw his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath, and her heart ached at the sight. This was it—the moment they both had been avoiding for so long.

Without looking at her, Tyler leaned down. The pen hovered above the line where his signature was supposed to go, and for a second, she thought he might not do it. But then, in one swift motion, he pressed the pen to the paper and signed his name. The scratch of the pen was deafening in the quiet room, each stroke feeling like a nail in the coffin of their marriage.

When he finished, he dropped the pen on the table, the clatter sounding final. He kept a copy for himself, rolling it up and putting it into his back pocket. He then pushed the other copy of the papers back across the table toward her, but still, he didn’t look up.

“Let me know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If you change your mind.”

She stared at the papers, her heart heavy as she realized that it was really over. He had signed, but the weight of the decision still hung in the air between them, unresolved and agonizing.

She watched as he turned toward the door, every step he took feeling like a knife twisting deeper into her chest. Just before he reached for the handle, he paused, his hand resting on the knob.

“Whether it’s me or someone else…I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” he said softly, not turning around. “I really do.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, alone once again.

[ayyy-pee]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 4 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅

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Pairing: Choso x f! Reader

Summary: Will this pain ever stop?

Chapter Warnings: Angst...again lmfao

WC: 6k

Choso Art By:NC9__

**While not all chapters contain adult content, the themes of this story are targeted towards adults, so minors DNI please.

You have an art project due.

You have an art project due that's worth sixty percent of your grade. 

You have an art project due that's worth sixty perfect of your grade, and you haven't even started it yet.

The canvas you’d set up two hours ago has been sitting in front of you without so much as a line drawn on it. The assignment is to sketch or paint something or someone meaningful from memory. You have many places you could choose from. You could paint your parents. They obviously mean the world to you. You could sketch your hometown, your friends from home or maybe your childhood bedroom.

Then there’s the obvious choice – the beach. The beach where you spent so many of your formative years. The beach where so many amazing memories were made. The beach where you met –

You shake your head wildly, willing yourself not to think about it, about him.

After four long months, many unanswered messages (because you’re blocked) and too many sad tears shed to count, you have now entered into the anger stage of your grief journey (with a sprinkle of the sads!). And honestly? It’s been easier for you that way. It’s been easier to hate him for what he did.

Him – because he doesn’t deserve his name to be uttered by you ever again. Not after the way he treated you. It’s not even the fact that he rejected you, though that sting was something you never want to experience again. But to make the choice to just end over a decade of friendship in the blink of an eye? A decision that wasn’t only his to make. To block you without another word? To just drop you like some stranger on the street after so many years, so many firsts together. To treat you like you never mattered at all…

Yeah, he can go to hell for all you care.

You push your canvas back with more force than necessary. Your artistic mood is ruined anyway, not that you were in one to begin with. It’s good timing, too, because a light knock echoes through your dorm door, and you beckon the visitor in.

“Hey,” Suguru enters, hands full of two six packs of beer. “You coming to Kai’s?”

Right. Tonight, Kaito – who you may or may not have vomited breakfast, lunch and dinner on after drinking too much and having a full on breakdown about him in the hallway in his hallway a week after he broke your heart – has invited you all over for a party!

It wasn’t Kaito’s fault. It was yours, really. You couldn’t look at the guy without being reminded of the conversation that led to your heartbreak.

“You should be with someone like him.” The memory played on loop in your drunken mind, pulled tears and anger from the depths of your soul and forced it all up for everyone to see.

Absolutely humiliating. Yet, despite your unfortunate mishap at the last gathering, Kaito still seemed to be interested in you. It probably helps that he has no idea that you confessed your feelings to your best – former best friend only to have your heart ripped out and fed back to you. You’d like to keep it that way. Some truths really are better left untold.

“I guess I could go,” you mutter to Suguru who has now cracked open a beer and placed it in front of you.

“Cool. Everyone’s already over there if you wanna walk together..” You open your mouth to protest, but Suguru quickly cuts you off. “I don’t mind waiting. It’s dark out anyway.” He flops down onto your bed, careful not to spill his drink. “Don’t feel comfortable with you walking alone.”

You stare at your friend from your spot on the floor. Sometimes - and you know it’s your mind inflicting its own sick torment on itself - Suguru reminds you so much of him in so many ways that it hurts. He’s quiet and caring, sweet and just an overall good person. He protects you in ways that feel so familiar it scares you. While there are no romantic feelings there for Suguru, you’ve found yourself growing even closer to him while navigating your heartbreak because of the familiar comfort he provides.

The warm sting forming along your waterline surprises you. Yes, you’re angry but there are still times when the overwhelming sadness feels just as fresh. You haven’t cried over this in awhile, but the kindness Suguru shows you consistently makes you think of those summers. And those summers make you think of his warmth and kindness that you’ve known all your life. And the memory of his warmth and kindness feels like a jagged blade being shoved slowly into your chest.

“You good?” Suguru’s quiet voice pulls you back to the present. “You look about two seconds from bursting into tears…”

You swipe at your eyes quickly, clearing your throat. “Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. Just stressed about this damn project. You know how it is.”

Even from across the room, you can see the way Suguru’s eyes narrow just slightly. He’s always been good at picking up on cues, catching people’s lies. But he doesn’t pry further, and you’re grateful when he simply stands and practically floats across the room where he reaches into the box of beers and easily pops the cap off of the bottle before handing it to you.

“Easy fix for all that stress,” he tells you. Your hand wraps around the bottle and you give Suguru a weak smile.

“Kai’s excited to see you, by the way,” Suguru adds, grinning behind his beer when he sees you choke on your first swig. He’s a good friend, but he can be such a dick sometimes! No wonder he and Satoru are so close. They both get off on catching people off guard, watching them squirm.

After nearly passing into the afterlife, you manage to finally catch your breath when Suguru takes pity on you and slaps a large hand against your back. “Is–” you cough harshly. “Is he really?”

“Yup. Dude likes you a lot even after you puked all over his new–”

“STOOOOOPPPPPP!”

“Shirt that he bought exactly for–”

“ENOUGH!!!” You squeeze your eyes shut.

“Hanging out with y–”

“I’m gonna yank your hair!” You slap your hands over your ears.

Suguru’s head falls back with raucous laughter. “As much as I’d love that, save the kinks for Kaito, please.” 

Your face practically ignites with embarrassment. Even joking about becoming intimate with someone after having only been kissed once makes you want to crawl into a hole. You take everything back. You hate Suguru and his teasing. 

Suguru downs the rest of his beer, happily observing your discomfort. “Go change so we can head out.”

You stand, flipping Suguru off before you head into the bathroom to get ready. You’re excited to go. You’re excited to see your friends and have a carefree time. And surprisingly, you’re kind of excited to see Kaito. You hope tonight will get your mind off of everything. You really need to forget all that’s been plaguing you over the last several months.

- - - - - -

When Suguru said Kaito was having a party, you didn’t think he meant an absolute fucking rager. Does no one give a damn that you’re quickly approaching midterms? Not to mention the mid-semester enormous projects your professors have been dumping on everyone! 

No one cares? 

No? 

Just you? 

Okay.

You suppose you could set your worries and stress and lingering thoughts about he who shall not be named aside for one night before it’s back to your regular scheduled programming. Even still, you just can’t wrap your head around how insane this party is. The last time you were at Kaito’s house (that’s putting it lightly – it’s more like a damn castle!), it was just your small study group. And you were very clearly going through something at the time, hence you spewing your guts out shortly after arriving for “casual” drinks and game night.

But tonight is different. There are warm bodies packed into the space, and you wonder if it’s the whole of the university that has been crammed into this place. Music is blaring so loudly you’re sure this party violates almost every noise ordinance there is. And again, no one seems to care. Everyone is pressed up against someone; hips moving scandalously to the beat. Multi colored lights flash across the room in time with the music. It’s more like a club here than a house party. It’s no wonder Suguru made you change out of your sweats and into a practically skintight dress.

If you’re going to enjoy this party, you’re going to need a drink – just one this time! You tell Suguru you’ll catch up with him in a bit, then maneuver your way into the kitchen as quickly as possible. When you’re there, you’re relieved to find that the kitchen is rather empty, just a few stragglers hanging around to grab more beverages. You appreciate the quietness in here, because the short time you were in the main room, the thumping was already giving you a headache.

Your eyes land on the counter where all the mixers and liquor sit. One little tequila and orange juice isn’t going to kill you, or result in you slumped on the couch (again), so you pour your little drink and take a sip. The burn of the alcohol is welcome. It soothes the bit of anxiety beginning to swell in your chest from the idea of having to move through that crowd again to find your friends.

“You look…” A smooth voice comes from behind you, making you jump in surprise. You spin around to find emerald eyes roaming along your form, appreciating the way the fabric of your dress hugs all your curves beautifully. “Wow…”

“Thank you, Kai,” you breathe, hiding shyly behind your red solo cup. “You look good, too.”

Kaito’s pretty grin spreads along his face, the two of you standing to the side of the small group gathered in the kitchen. “Suguru told me you were getting a drink. Had to come find you. How’ve you been?” He questions, reaching past you to grab a bottle of liquor. “Excuse me.” He pours himself a bit of alcohol.

“Not bad, just busy with this art project. I know I haven’t been around much, but I need to get a good grade on this one.”

He nods, eyes boring into yours. “I feel that. That’s why I threw this party.” He waves his hand around the room. “Needed something to get my mind off shit.”

Images of what – no, who – your mind has been stuck on flash through your mind, and you take another swig of your drink to quell the sadness threatening to resurface. “Honestly, I’m glad you did.”

Kaito smiles down at you, and you feel your heart race behind your ribcage. “Me, too. I’m really glad you came.”

You spend a good while speaking with Kaito in the kitchen, completely forgetting about the party outside of this room and your friends in general. It’s surprisingly refreshing. You’re open with Kaito, laughing at his jokes, letting him flatter you with the compliments he can’t seem to help but shower you with.

And you like it.

You like him. 

Kaito makes you feel good. You had no idea how much you needed to feel good until now. And even as Kaito leads you outside to a balcony overlooking a gorgeously lit garden, even as the music pumps so loudly through the closed double doors, it’s nothing compared to the pounding  Kaito causes your heart to do.

Maybe it really is a good thing that you came to this party. And a good thing you only had one drink!

“So…” Kaito sighs, staring out over the pretty shrubs and the enormous fountain that sits in the center of this outdoor garden. “Can’t believe senior year is coming up so quickly.”

“Oh wow, it really is. You’ll be graduating before you know it.”

“Scary times. Not looking forward to finding out what the real world's like.”

You hum in agreement. In another year you'll be in Kaito’s position, wondering what you will be doing for the rest of your life. And Kaito is right. It’s scary to think about. All of this stress from school will build up to something, though you don’t know what that something is yet. You’d love to sit and ponder on what your future holds, because just a few months before, you were fairly certain you knew what and who you wanted. But so much has changed in such a short amount of time. You don’t know what’s next for you. Regardless, you want to be open to change.

“There will be no talking about futures together, making plans, sailing off into the sunset…none of it.”

Yeah, you need to be open to change.

You sigh loudly. “As much as I love letting the existential dread set in, did you bring me out here to talk about school?”

Kaito laughs, running his fingers through his dark hair and you can just barely make out the crimson spreading along his cheeks in this dim lighting. He’s nervous, and you find it adorable. “No. No, of course not. I just…ah, fuck.”

You place a hand on his arm, soothingly patting. “Take your time…”

His eyes narrow playfully as he bites his lip, shaking his head. He leans against the balcony railing, turning to face you. “I really like you…” he admits, then he chuckles. “You know, if that wasn’t obvious.”

“I would have never guessed,” you tease, and Kaito laughs again. “I like you, too, Kai. I know I’ve been kind of…” You try to find the right word for your behavior over the last four months, but all you can come up with is, “a mess. But I do like you.”

Kaito’s face lights up. It’s so cute, the way he looks so excited to hear this. He moves closer to you, taking your hand in his, and you feel your heartbeat pick up speed.

“I’m so glad. I thought there was no way you were interested.”

This makes you burst into a fit of giggles. “How are you the one surprised here? I puked all over you and somehow you still like me.”

Kaito’s teeth sink into his bottom lip again, and he grins. “Would you think I was an absolute freak if I said that somehow made me like you more?”

Your brows knit together in confusion, but you can’t help the goofy smile spreading across your lips.

“I just mean!” Kaito stumbles over his words, trying to correct himself. His fingers card through his hair again, and you make note that this seems to be a nervous habit of his. “Ugh, I mean…most girls have something absolutely humiliating like that happen and–”

“Off to a great start,” you jest, which makes Kaito smile harder.

“You know what I mean. I just didn’t think that you’d still want to be friends after something like that happened. I was kind of worried that you’d be too embarrassed to want to talk to me.”

“I was,” you admit. “But you kept coming around to study group so it made it kind of hard to avoid you.” Your lips quirk into a smirk, letting Kaito know that you’re still teasing him.

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts cutely before he adds, “Would you think I was an absolute freak if I said that somehow makes me like you more?” He winks, and you both fall into a fit of giggles.

You’re not sure when the last time you felt so…free was. The air around Kaito is so refreshing, so light, so nice. You can be yourself with him. You can laugh with him. You can just…be with him.

Kaito’s sudden silence has you peering up at him, only to find his face serious. Somehow, you’re just noticing that he’s much closer. He leans down slowly, and your heart thrums loudly in your ears as your breaths mingle. Kaito has his eyes locked on your mouth, his tongue peeking out to run along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion. 

“I want to kiss you so badly…” He confesses quietly. “So badly.” 

Your cheeks warm at the prospect. You’ve never kissed anyone besides him. And you’re unsure if–

No.

You push the memory away. He wanted you to be happy even if it meant it was with someone else. He removed himself from your life to make sure of that. So now, you will do what was asked of you, and move on.

“Can I��” Kaito’s voice beckons you back to him. “Kiss you?”

“...yes.” You nod, agreeing quickly. The both of you slowly lean closer, Kaito’s hand squeezing yours, until your lips just barely ghost over each other. Kaito’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, then he closes the distance, pressing his mouth gently to yours.

His lips are so soft, so careful as they move against yours. The taste of Kaito’s mouth has you sighing into the kiss, the mixture of mint and whiskey more pleasant than you would have imagined. It’s nice, just like everything about Kaito. 

Your mind is reeling, heart beating wildly in your chest. You’re finally experiencing your first kiss at college! You used to dream of this moment. Giving your first college kiss to someone you really like. And you really like Kaito. This kiss…it’s everything you ever hoped for!

So why does the way Kaito’s lips caress yours feel so wrong? Why does the way his hand gently strokes your cheek feel so off? And the way he sighs your name against your lips? It’s just all so wrong.

You try to fight it, try to resist the way your head floods with images of that hot summer night at the beach all those years ago, of that kiss that seems to have ruined you for all other men. How compared to everything else going on at this moment, it all felt right. There were no awkward feelings, no doubts, no sudden alarms blaring in your head telling you that you should not be kissing this person. And it has your heart dropping.

This isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair that no matter how much you think you’ve moved forward and healed, it only takes one tiny thing to send you right back to square one. It isn’t fair that you’ve been put in this position by no choice of your own in the first place. It isn’t fair that even as this man who so clearly likes you presses his lips to yours, you can only think of being somewhere else with someone who isn’t him.

It isn’t fucking fair.

What’s even worse is that that damn beach seems to haunt you no matter what you do. It’s crazy how you can see the water so clearly in your mind, damn near feel the mist of the ocean spray on your face as Kaito slots his lips against yours. And it seems Kaito feels this mist as well, because he pulls back, brows knit together as his beautiful eyes roam your features.

“Did I do something wrong?” He questions quietly. The confusion seems to be clear as day on your face because Kaito gently swipes at your cheek and it’s then that you feel the wetness on your skin. Tears; big, fat ones at that. You hadn’t even realized you had started crying.

A sob involuntarily rips from your throat and your hands fly to your mouth to cover the sound. But then another follows. And another. And it’s all you can do to just close your eyes and try to will yourself not to break down right here. But when you feel yourself wrapped in an unfamiliar, but soothing embrace, a wave of emotion comes crashing down on you harder than the wave that brought you to him over a decade ago. And it only makes you cry harder. Kaito’s arms squeeze you tightly, his hand rubbing soft circles on your back.

“It’s okay…” he whispers, though you can hardly hear him over your weeping. “Whatever’s going on…it’s gonna be okay.”

The two of you stand like this for a while. Kaito simply holds you until your body stops shaking with each sob. 

“I–” You sniffle loudly, burying your face in Kaito’s chest because once again, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him and now you’re too ashamed to look at him. “I’m so, so sorry, Kai.”

His hands fall on your shoulders, pulling you from his hold and you peer up at him, only to find him gazing softly down at you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Kaito is so sweet. Too sweet for you, who is too damaged to be of any good to him.

“I’m going through sort of a break up right now,” you confess. “I care about him very much, but it just didn’t work out. I thought I was ready to move on, to try this, but I don’t think I am.” You feel fresh tears beginning to fall. “I’m sorry. I really do like you, but I’m just not ready for anything new.”

Kaito nods, in understanding, pulling you back into his arms when he sees another tear roll down your cheek. “I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

See? Too sweet for you.

Kaito whispers your name as he releases his hold on you. “Just know that you’re an amazing person. I’d still love to be friends with you, if you’re comfortable with that.” He squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “And whoever broke your heart…they fucked up letting you go.”

His words make you want to cry harder. You wish you could believe that, believe that you were worth fighting for. But you were the one fighting, and right now, you feel like the one who lost.

Still, you manage to mutter a quick “thank you” before you hug Kaito one last time for the night.

- - - - - -

Maybe you’re doomed to never leave Kaito’s house on a good note. Twice you’ve left there in shambles, and you’re not willing to see if the third time’s a charm.

You leave Kaito’s without bothering to find your friends to say goodbye. You don’t want to see them, don’t want to explain the reason why you’re suddenly racing back to your dorm. Don’t want them to know that the moment you get back to your dorm you’ll be falling to pieces. You want to be alone. 

In the safety of your dorm, there’s no one here to tell you it will be alright, no one to soothe your pain or offer you words of encouragement. And you don’t want it. You want to feel these emotions, let them all out as the waves come. You need the space to do so.

You don’t care that you’re standing in your room in the same stupid dress you were wearing when you broke down in front of Kaito after telling him you liked him, after having your first kiss in college with him. You feel ridiculous as is, so what’s one more thing to add to the roster? 

Your eyes spot the stupid blank canvas on your table, still in the same spot you left it when you headed out to the party with Suguru, and your body moves on autopilot. You let your hands do what they know how to do best, dipping your paint brush into whatever color feels right. 

Each stroke of the brush feels like a weight lifted, feels cathartic and the sorrow that drove you to paint in the first place melts into raw anger. The tears fall as an image begins to take shape, furious brushstrokes flying across the canvas.

You don’t know how long you’re sitting there painting, but when you’re no longer able to shed another tear, and your angry sobs finally subside, you set your brush aside and observe the finished product.

It’s the beach - your beach - painted the way you see it now. 

Messy. 

Distorted. 

Tainted with memories that now leave a sick taste in your mouth. 

And it’s beautiful.

You wipe your swollen eyes as you stand and strip off your dress, leaving the fabric in a pile on the floor. You don’t give the painting any more attention, don’t bother looking back, leaving it to dry while you head to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Come Monday, when you present your project in class, your professor does not hesitate to gift you an A. You listen numbly as she rambles about the raw emotion it evokes. She sings your praises about your growth this semester, and she tells you she hopes to see more of this passion in your future work. 

It’s bittersweet, but you suppose something good had to come from all of this pain. 

Maybe one day, when it’s not such a sore spot, when it doesn’t hurt so fucking much, you’ll thank him for it.

- - - - - -

Your senior year creeps up on you. All of your hard work has finally paid off, and you’ve fortunately been able to take it pretty easy for your last year of college. You even had time to complete an internship with an incredible art gallery and may have a position lined up for after graduation!

You want it so badly, so you’ve been spending more time experimenting with your art. It keeps you busy, which is exactly what you need.

Utahime and Shoko are officially together, not that their relationship was much of a secret to begin with. You love seeing those two together. Especially now that Utahime is no longer struggling with her classes. She can dedicate more time to her music and spend more time with her girlfriend before she leaves for medical school.

They’re sweet with each other, but third wheeling with them sucks. Nothing is fun when you’re stuck watching your friends making out wherever you go. You still love them, but you’ll see them again once they’re out of the honeymoon phase. So maybe you’ll never see them again. Who knows?

Satoru and Suguru…They also became a couple, but that was a toxic situation that lasted about a year before they had a very nasty breakup that ended with Suguru transferring schools. 

Though Satoru does make frequent visits to “see his friends” that just so happen to live in the same city that Suguru moved to. You’re not sure what’s up with your friends and feeling the need to hide their relationships when it’s all so glaringly obvious what they’re up to. But you don’t pry.

And you? You haven’t tried dating anyone since that disastrous night at Kaito’s. You needed time to heal, so you’ve poured all your energy into your artwork. Clearly it’s paid off for you.

Speaking of Kaito, he graduated! He was offered an amazing position with a great company, and actually moved out of the country. You two remain good friends, which is why as you lie in bed scrolling through your Instagram feed, you see the pictures of him and his new girlfriend on your feed. You double tap, liking it. They’re so cute together. And Kaito seems so happy, and you’re happy for him.

Your finger continues to swipe at the screen, scrolling through pictures and videos of your friends. Some of your high school friends have gotten married. Some are pregnant. Others have adopted a new pet. Now that you’ve got time to breathe, it feels like everyone’s life is changing so quickly. 

But still, it’s nice to have time to do absolutely nothing. You spent a good majority of your college career frantically trying to keep your head above water. You’re glad for the downtime.

A notification suddenly pops up on your Instagram. It’s a message request, though you’re not sure from who. 

“You love stallions?” You question aloud. “Who the hell…” You squint, bringing your phone closer to your face to see if the profile picture gives you any clues as to who is randomly sending you a message. But it’s just a pair of…red shoes? You have half a mind to delete the message, because when you try to view the page, it’s private.

But apparently, you’ve really got time on your hands, because curiosity gets the better of you and you open the message.

yuluvstallions: hi Y/N!!! 

yuluvstallions: (i hope this is ur page. I messaged like 4 others) 

yuluvstallions: It’s me! Yuji!! It’s been a REALLY long time! Hope ur doin good! Plz tell ur mom nd dad i said hi! 

yuluvstallions: I miss u SO much so i had 2 try nd find u on here! N e way. Idk if u remember but my bday is comin up in a few weeks! Im gunna be 13! Can u believe it?! IM A TEENAGER!!!

yuluvstallions: i think u might b on spring break during that time, so id really love it if u could come. I’ll send details here

Yuji attaches an image of his party invitation, and you can’t even focus on that because you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The invitation font sits atop the background image, against the sky. It gives all of the location’s details, the time and the date. And at the bottom of this image are the four brothers, standing on the beach with their arms around each other’s shoulders and big grins on their faces.

There’s Yuji, who looks to be almost as tall as you, wears the biggest smile. Then Kechizu, who is still short and stocky, the same way you remember him. Eso, who has a mohawk now? And then, there’s him.

Choso.

You set your phone down. You think you’re going to be sick.

- - - - - -

It’s nearly one in the morning when Choso arrives home. He’s not usually off this late, but he’s been finding it easier to sleep when he comes home absolutely exhausted. Though it doesn’t help much. He’s only been managing to sleep a few hours a night for the last few years, and somehow, by some miracle, he hasn’t keeled over. 

Choso sets his keys down, heading up the stairs, careful to avoid the worn steps that he knows will creak beneath the pressure so as to not wake Yuji. He slips into the bathroom where he strips off his uniform and steps into the shower. The heat of the water melts away the thick scent of dairy and sugar from Choso’s skin and hair, and he finally feels like he can relax.

It’s been a surprisingly busy spring season. He can thank spring break for that. The town has university students coming in and out like a revolving door, and business is booming because of it. He can’t complain. It’s more money, and it keeps his mind off of…things.

Choso finally settles into bed, pulling his blanket up to his chin. He’s exhausted.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like sleep is in his near future because he hears a knock on his door the second he closes his eyes. The door cracks open, a head of pink hair peeking in. His youngest brother slips into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Yuji looks nervous, moving across Choso’s room to sit at his desk. “Hi, big brother,” he beams. “How was work?” And while Choso loves when Choso refers to him as his big brother, he can only assume Yuji wants something.

“What is it?” He asks, voice clearly conveying his exhaustion.

Yuji plays with the hem of his shirt, eyes fixed on the floor. “So…as you know, my birthday bonfire is coming up.”

“Still can’t believe you’re about to be 13,” Choso sighs, shakily. Yuji has grown up so fast and is quickly becoming an incredible young man.

‘Don’t cry. Don’t cry…’

Yuji chuckles nervously. “Yeah…so…It’s a big milestone, right? Like, a big birthday because I’m finally a teenager…”

“Yes…I know…What are you getting at?”

“Would it be okay if I invited…” he trails off, but it's obvious who Yuji’s referring to – you. Of course Yuji wants to see you. He's got the same emotional attachment to you as Choso has to him. He can admit that in the past it made him jealous, how much Yuji loved you. And how much you loved Yuji. But right now, the idea of Yuji extending an invitation to you after not seeing you for almost half a decade, after the way things were left off between you…it sets his nerves on fire.

He has no idea what you're up to these days. It takes a hell of a lot of restraint each time the temptation crosses his mind, but he doesn't check your social media. And if his brothers have any contact with you, they don't provide him any insight into your life either. Though Choso thinks that's more in protest of how things went down between you two, not to protect his feelings. They always did love you more. 

But would Choso be able to handle seeing you after the way he treated you all these years later? The idea of seeing you standing in front of him makes him feel sick. And the idea of seeing you standing in front of him with…Kaito, or whoever you may be dating now makes him want to vomit. He knows he told you to move on, find someone who could be better for him than he could ever be, but he doesn’t want that flaunted in his face either.

Ugh, this is just all fucked up.

Choso’s aware of how selfish it would be for him to say no to Yuji because of his own feelings. Because he’s scared to face the consequences of his actions. He caused this rift between you two. He burned the bridge. Not you. Not Yuji. Choso did that. Maybe you’ll show up. He’s sure Yuji and his other brothers would love to see you. Worst case and most likely scenario, you hate Choso and won’t come at all. 

That idea hurts just as much. 

But Choso can’t use what he did as a reason to tell Yuji no.

“Sure,” Choso finally grunts. “Invite her, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Yuji grins, wide and goofy. He stands, clapping his hands together as he makes his way out the door before calling back, “Good! Because I already invited her and she said she’s comingggg!” He sings from the hall.

“YUJI, SHUT UP!” Choso hears Eso’s muffled yell from his room, followed by Yuji’s loud laughter.

Choso groans, staring up at the ceiling as his mind races. If he thought he was getting any sleep tonight, he was sorely mistaken. How could he sleep now? Knowing that in a few short weeks, he’ll be seeing you for the first time in years. Potentially speaking to you for the first time since he hung up in your face and blocked any form of communication with you. The conversation haunts him to this day, like some strange form of punishment. It’s why he works so much, why he sleeps so little. At least when he’s awake, he can keep his thoughts at bay.

Exhaustion snatches Choso, his body finally giving in so he can sleep. He’s sure he’ll wake up tomorrow feeling as though he never relaxed for a moment. That’s how it always is. Because while he can keep himself busy enough to not think of you for a second while he’s awake, it’s when he closes his eyes that his mind torments him with nothing but images of you.

This time, his dreams are pleasant. This time, he sees you and him together. You and him, on the beach where it all began.

[ryukatters]

i’m politely requesting an elaboration on gojo liking brats pretty please ( 〃．．)

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

cw: edging, overstimulation, praise, some breathplay

Gojo likes to spoil you rotten.

He has no issue with buying you material things, he can make it happen with a simple swipe of his card. He loves spoiling you with his love and affection, pampering you as he coos and praises until you’re red in the face.

His adoration and utter devotion makes you feel like a glutton, and Gojo’s more than happy to keep providing until you’re full (because even when you think you can’t take anymore, you can. Because Gojo says so).

Anything to keep his baby happy. Spoiled.

But that’s where his predicament lies.

“Fuck, ‘toru,” you moan, back arching off the mattress as Satoru plows into you.

You’re dangerously close.

“Be good,” he warns, warm hand on your tummy to push you back down flat against the mattress. “Look at me.” So you do. He’s smiling but you can see the predatory glint in his eyes, almost like they’re challenging you to disobey him.

He’s been edging you for what feels like hours now. Satoru may be sweet, but times like these show just how primal and sadistic he can be— getting off on making you cry and beg for him.

“‘Toru, ‘toru I can’t! It’s too much,” you whine. Your head feels dizzy and all your senses are being bombarded by Satoru. It’s too overwhelming.

“But it’s not enough princess,” he coos, pressing his lips to yours before deepening the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hard, and he feels a wave of satisfaction and pleasure wash through him as you clench around his length. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill.

You feel yourself edge towards your climax once more, words bubbling up your throat but dying on the tip of your tongue as you prepare yourself to beg once again for your release. Surely, your boyfriend can’t refuse you again?

“Baby, gonna cum, please—”

The building pressure dies down as quickly as it comes. Satoru pulls out, cock glistening from evidence of your consummation.

“No.”

“B-but, why?” You sputter, tears threatening to spill from your lashline.

“Because I said so,” he says simply. “Don’t be a brat.”

You grip the sheets in frustration. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been brought so devastatingly close to your climax, only to have it ripped away from you. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Satoru, just make me fucking cum already,” you spit, tone vexing.

All movements stop. Satoru’s looking at you, eyes wide, like he can’t believe his baby had the spunk to lash out at him. The look of surprise melts into a contemplative one.

“Guess I haven’t fucked you stupid yet,” he tuts, large hands cupping your tits, pinching your nipples hard, smiling as it elicits a particularly sinful moan from you, “since you still have that little attitude of yours.” One hand travels up your chest to wrap around the base of your throat, squeezing firmly.

You feel your mouth run dry and your pussy clench around nothing.

“Beg.”

The simple command has you sputtering, babbling desperately pleas you hope are enough to satisfy him. They’re not.

“Tell me you need me. That I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.” Satoru is crazed now, possessive, signaling that he’s starting to feel as fucked out as you are.

“Ah, ‘toru, please— I need you so much,” you babble, thighs quivering as your boyfriend begins to pound into you mercilessly. “You’re the only one that can make me feel this good.”

“Good girl,” he pants, cerulean orbs rolling back into his skull has he feels balls tighten. “Now you’re going to take everything I give you, ‘kay pretty girl?”

All you can do is nod.

A thought crosses his mind. Has he spoiled you too much?

When he sees you, so pliant and needy and behaved for him, he thinks that it’s a foolish question.

There’s no such thing as too much.

he’s so hot he’s so sexy i want him

[nocturnal-nexu]

I have seen some discussion on "small" v.s. "muscled" Jay, and I have decided to throw my opinion out there.

Both. In my mind, he is both.

Okay, hear me out.

My little bro has this one friend who is a literal string bean. He just has a really lanky body type, I guess. You look at this kid and think, "Oh, he hasn't lifted a weight in his life."

But then, as boys often do when hanging with the homies, this kid will flex, and you'll realize... this kid is ripped. Like you don't expect it at all.

That's how I imagine Jay. A little on the smaller side, but under the baggy gi, this guy is toned.

I need some gang member or something to spout some insult about Jay being the "weak link" only to be immediately knocked out by the lightning ninja's critical hit uper-cut.

And Nya's just smiling smugly while puching another criminals face in, because she's trained with him. She's seen him in his black tank top when they spar. She knows about how Jay beat Kai in an arm wrestling contest that one time. (Much to Kai's disappoint)

I think Nya likes to see Jay fighting at his full potential. (We have Canon confirmation from the writers that he does pull his punches when using his element.) I think she likes to see him go absolutely ape and show everyone what he's really capable of. ("Yeah, that's right, you show um, babe!" mentality)

Why do they both seem like the type to yell across the battle field at each other.

"Yeah! Let's go! Kick their butt honey!"

(So, this just ended up turning into Jaya headcannons because I can't restrain myself, apparently. But I hope you enjoyed none the less. 😊)

[frankenkyle19]

I guess rip Kai Anderson, you would have loved the 2024 election.

I on the other hand, do not.