#she appeared for like 1 scene then fucked right off

[mintaikk]

This Gal

I love this Gal

[cuteniaarts]

Post-recovery Summiya concept sketch :)

[dekuneho]

husband of the year ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) — in your defense, who would've thought he would barge in while you're at work? clearly not you.

The TV was broadcasting and heatedly narrating Dynamight's current Villain-of-the-Week takedown when your co-worker, Yaeko whom you remember by her pin-straight waist-length hair and delight in a bunch of hearsay, taps on your shoulder for attention.

"Mm?" you murmur distractedly, incapable of tearing your eyes away from how the camera has easily captured the swift fluttering mid-air, even if just barely. No ordinary person could keep up with the force that is Bakugou Katsuki.

"Ayane-chan clocked out early."

"Did she?"

Yaeko settles on the plastic chair on your right, watching the #1 Pro Hero absolutely pulverize the villain with the most elegance, Bakugou style. She doesn't take it in with the same rapt. Doesn't hold her breath or tighten her grip on her knees, not like you.

"Her husband picked her up. They're having dinner," Yaeko sings, then sighs dreamily. "Oh, if only mine would pick me up with a nice, sleek car."

The villain finally registers he's clearly overestimated his plan for victory and starts begging for mercy. Dynamight appears too distracted to even feel victorious about it.

"That would be nice," you agree, though you're not really sure what she's saying anymore as Dynamight takes the last win. His expression looks off — far away.

'And once again, #1 Pro Hero Dynamight proves why he's at the top, breaking his last three-minute record! Looks like he'll be securing this year's ranking as well.' The reporter gushes like it's some Olympic Sport. Dynamight would grin like a fucking bastard, too, usually, but not today, it seems.

"How come I never see your husband?" Yaeko asks all of a sudden.

"That would be no good," you say, chuckling. "He's busy enough as he is."

Yaeko appraises your assured smile. "Hm. Is that what he says?"

The reporter continues gushing, "And he flees the scene in a signature Dynamight hit-and-run. He might be off to save another city; who knows!"

"That's what everyone says, really," you say cryptically, moments later. You wonder why Dynamight looked so distracted. It wasn't like him.

In the immediate silence that follows, you spare a glance at your co-worker. Yaeko looks thirsty for prying, but as soon as her shoulder comes in contact with yours, she rears back with a gasp.

"You're still sick!" she admonishes, not unlike in the tone a mother hen if they could speak and grip both your shoulders. "I was wondering why you even came today when you were all but dying last night."

You jerk away. "I was just feeling a little feverish. Nothing too bad.”

Yaeko clicks her tongue. The chair slides back as she pushes off to get water from the dispenser near the TV. The reporter drones on about how fortunate they were to witness the Pro Hero in broad daylight, followed by the dispenser's buzz.

"Your husband let you out like that?" she asks.

"He doesn't know," you murmur shamefully.

Yaeko appears unimpressed, holding the cup to your lips. You sigh and move to keep the glass yourself, feeling a little petulant about it.

Commotion begins to pick up in volume from outside, muted by the walls. Yaeko pays no mind to it, but your hair picks up on its ends. When there's a stifled sound of explosion, you understand why. The news moves to a different topic, though it seems that the headlines made its way to you himself.

"Shit. Hide me, Yaeko-san. Please."

Yaeko frowns. "What? Hey, don't move so much."

The door slides open and presents the #1 Hero himself, sweating and seething and still looking like a dream. He has to twist his upper body, the door for ordinarily built men unable to accommodate his solid, beefy arms.

"You," he growls, eyes blazing.

"Noo." You shield your face with the crook of your arm, but there isn't a single wall in the world that Dynamight can't break through.

Behind him, the security guard emerges and looks rightfully guilty. He makes a gesture of 'I tried, sorry. It's up to you now.'

He grips your elbow and pushes it out of view until your face is bare, and you're witness to his very, very angry face. "I told you not to punch in for work."

He did say that. "Uhh…"

"You went all," He pitches his voice somewhere obnoxiously high, "'Don't worry, baby, I won't!' — we lyin' to each other now?"

You did also say that.

"Baby?" Yaeko whispers to herself, stunned.

Dynamight scowls, ripping his glove out to press it on your forehead, his skin ice-cold. You wonder if this is how the villain from earlier felt, though maybe with a little less arousal at the sight of his eyes. "Fuckin' idiot," he mutters under his breath.

"D-Dynamight, sir," Yaeko pipes up, looking shell-shocked, "please unhand my co-worker."

"Ha? You the one who asked this idiot to clock in?"

"No." You shield Yaeko's terrified expression with your hand. "No, she didn't. I did it myself."

"Yeah, 'cause you're a dumbass on your own," he says, and now the familiarity of bickering feels more like your Katsuki in the walls of your home. Your husband, who seriously came all the way here after kicking some ass. Katsuki turns to Yaeko. "Tell your boss we're leaving. Don't call."

And he pulls you up and drags you off. You half-expected him to throw you over his shoulder, but his neck brace might dig into your side painfully, and Katsuki has already considered it despite his boiling anger at your disobedience.

"Katsuki," you whine, heating up at the stonished staring while you're tugged off into the exit. "Did you really fly all the way here just to kidnap me home?

"The hell's with that," he snaps. "I'm clocking out for the day 'cause I'm not stupid like your stupid ass."

"Katsuki!"

"'sides," Katsuki gives you a long look over his shoulder, and oh, is this what he was thinking about the entire time? Your heart does a bit of somersaulting. "Who else is gonna take care of you?"

Yaeko can keep her nice, sleek cars. Nothing beats this.

[wlwmedarda]

I'm honestly just looking to rant and this might be long depending on how fast I get irritated the more I type so if this isn't coherent or well written I apologize in advance. Since it looks like Ambessa will take on a more antagonistic role in arcane season two, I would like to unpack the fandom's antiblackness that you guys are either blind to or aware and too pussy to call it out as my gut is telling me it's gonna increase and if no one is gonna start the difficult conversation then I sure as hell will.

Sevika:

Mel:

Starting off strong with the definition of "you guys want complex female characters but can't even handle her". Mel Medarda is in quite the predicament seeing how she's morally grey, a black woman, AND "gets in the way" of a mlm ship so she was kinda screwed from the start. A cunning politician disowned for her pacifism who acts as a sort of bridge to Noxus' slow introduction, and is THE ONLY CHARACTER IN THE SEASON 1 MAIN CAST SPECIFICALLY CREATED FOR THE SHOW. She's treated like satan incarnate or a Jezebel (highly suggest looking into that if you don't know what that is), GOOD character analysis is rare, and when she is talked about positively, it's so often chalked up to appearances that I'd rather yall not talk about her at all. Oh you love Mel? Then can we talk about her relationship with her mother? Unpack her dynamic with Jayce? Maybe more fanworks centered around her? I've seen yall's fake asses dropping the shittiest fucking takes about her only to turn around and gush over how pretty she is, and yall think you're slick about it and you're not. I would say I prefer the ones who are loud and proud about their hatred but that'd be a lie, they're two cheeks on the same ass; annoying and couldn't give a decent break down of her character if a gun was pointed at they head even she's perfect to dissect. I could talk about her more but we'd be here all day and so many black women even from outside the fanbase have already talked about yall so there's no need for me to add on 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️.

Quick question, have you guys ever tried to talk about her in a non sexual way? Yes, Sevika is undeniably sexy and you could argue that true stans of hers talk about her outside of horny time, but a good half of the fandom is a different story. In a similar case to Mel's, deep dives into her character are rare to find which is crazy when she acts as Zaun's own "kingmaker". She's loyal to her city and the cause, never to a specific person and will not hesitate to betray you. She could be your right hand man one day, and the next she might find a better kingpin to follow and stab you in the back like it all meant nothing. "Were you tempted?" "Not for a worm like him". Simple and subtle and probably my favorite Sevika scene; she comes to realize Silco is no longer the best leader for Zaun, but he's as good as it gets for now and so she sticks by him. I remember a YouTube comment breaking down how she's essentially the quintessential Zaun: a brute warrior molded by her environment, who defied Vander's peaceful ways and embraced Silco's cruelty. Her mindset and goal is interesting and you'd think it'd result in some fascinating meta or exploration of her upbringing when we got a hint that she potentially has some daddy issues right? Obviously, but what do we get instead? White sapphics treating her like nothing more than a sexual object. How delightful!

Ekko:

This might partially be Riot's fault because — and I hate to sound like a league lore nerd — Ekko is quite underdeveloped compared to the richer origins of his former pre arcane self, but I'm gonna hold off on that till the season finale to see how they handle him. Anyways, at this point the fandom clearly sees him as Jinx's trophy husband. When you talk about him, she is brought into the convo 90% of the time. That's exactly why I prefer black timebomb shippers over the nonblack ones because I trust they actually love Ekko as a character on his own. Even though I have my complaints regarding how's been written so far, I still know he's too good to be reduced to Jinx's loverboy. He fights and cares for his city, the only character that you can confidently say is pure of heart, and is the revolutionary leader Zaun really needs. He's just as smart as Jinx too, he is literally going to create TIME TRAVEL. Why does no one wanna talk about that? Can we be excited for his character development and arc not just for the timebomb scenes you'll get out of it?

Ambessa:

Can't even deny this woman is awful but her presence on screen enthralled me after a couple of rewatches and I also love bad mothers in media so I've settled on a love/hate relationship. Yes, she's definitely gonna have some influence on Caitlyn, which makes sense since she has now lost her mother; she's vulnerable and as we have seen, naive. She's practically free real estate for Ambessa. My recent worry though has been how the fandom seems to be willing to put all of Caitlyn's actions on her as if Cait isn't a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. Of course being grown doesn't mean you're immune to manipulation, but I've seen some Silco and Jinx comparisons and it is NOT the same. Mind you we haven't even seen the first three episodes; we don't know how far Ambessa's manipulation is going to go and we can't really tell what the dynamic is gonna be like based off of clips and trailers that are likely shown out of context on purpose to throw people off. I'll never defend her actions, hell I'll join in on the lashings, but my black ass is also not gonna sit here and let yall talk about her weirdly or pin all of this on her.

Some might say I'm overthinking this, but I've been here since November 2021 and have sat back and observed for 2 years. You don't have to write deep, philosophical conversations 24/7, I'm sure it's not all in bad faith and I won't act like I don't thirst over Sevika or marvel at Mel's beauty. I'm not saying you have to like these characters and that you're racist if you don't. My frustration comes from the lack of nuanced conversations and hypocritical opinions surrounding black characters in this show. When you try to say something about this, you're hit with excuses; it reminds me of how man obsessed fujoshis act when they're questioned for not giving two fucks about female characters. They're either reduced to one character trait, only admired for their looks, or only discussed when it's about the white character they're connected to. Do NOT under ANY circumstance be black and morally ambiguous, you WILL be held to higher moral standards than everyone's wittle blorbos who can do wrong and are defended from all sides when you dare to take the rose colored stan glasses off and criticize them. What's really ridiculous is you hear the "complex characters" bullshit every two to three business days and some of you have the nerve to boast about this series being diverse while simultaneously ignoring the complexities in the characters of color. This is the main reason I took a step back and with season two around the corner I thought "Hey, maybe it'll be better this time!" and it was a mistake. Good to know yall still have an underlying racism problem you don't wanna address but with some extra classism thrown in. "What will we do once Arcane ends?" hopefully get a job, touch some grass, and reflect. Lord knows yall need it. The faster yall sizzle out the better. I'm done that's all I have to say lol goodnight 👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽.

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment - Part 1 of 2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 4.8K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). Both parts have their smutty stuff, but part 2 will go a lot harder. Reader is bisexual. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

---

No. No. No. Not again. It’s 2:07 on Wednesday morning, and it’s happening again. You know it’s going to be at least an hour, probably longer, before it’s quiet enough for you to sleep. You know the routine at this point. Different partners, but the play-by-play appears to be the same. You could set your clock by it at this point. You don’t begrudge your neighbor his fun, lord knows you like having a good time, but fucking hell - can he remember he’s in a building with thin walls and neighbors that have to wake up early for work in the morning?

The anger’s been building inside since that first night. Tonight, you’re pushed over the limit. His stamina is impressive. The knock, knock, knocking of the headboard against the outer wall of both of your bedrooms is a familiar sound that alone wouldn’t keep you up. It’s the moaning, the occasional *SLAP* that makes your eyes pop open. An unpleasant surprise scream of, “Daddy!” sets your teeth on edge. You can hear his rhythm falter at the word, and it makes you huff a laugh under your breath. She won’t be coming back tomorrow night. Must not be his thing - you try hard not to think about why you care, and still make the mental note. It’s not your thing either. 

Your current thing is getting at least 6 consecutive hours of sleep when you have to wake up at 7:00 am and be able to function in the office. You’re absolutely done and ready to make a scene. It’s been almost a month in your new place, and it’s clear that Mr. Upstairs is not slowing down. Mary, your roomie, has been begging you to be cool, begging you to let it go, but her room isn’t directly beneath a fucking brothel. See, Mary has already met one of the guys in the apartment upstairs, and she’s smitten. “He’s tall, gorgeous green eyes, and his hair. Oh my god, his hair.” Oh, his hair, oh my god. Vomit. If you hear any more about this guy’s hair, you’re going to light it on fire. Plus, what if he’s the one that’s been fucking the entire city’s worth of girls right above your own bed? Mary refuses to believe it. 

Your clock reads 3:30 when the noises stop, and you’re able to sleep. Your alarm is set for 6:30, giving you plenty of time to get ready for work and still have time to hike up the stairs and meet the dickhead of a neighbor. You have no idea what you expect him to do about his noise issue, but you’re sure as hell going to give him a piece of your mind. He can get his rocks off in his living room as long as you don’t have to listen to him saying, “oh, fuck. Your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum,” one more time. It’s the same script with every person he brings home. As you drift off, your brain scrolls through ideas - things you could do to make this man lose enough brain function to be able to form speech.

*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*

You shower. You brush your teeth. You fix your hair. You put on your (warpaint) makeup. You pour your coffee into a travel mug. You pack your briefcase. You feed the cat. You do all of your morning things while seething with anger. You make sure to keep it at the forefront of your mind. The fucking noises. You’re so tired, and your day hasn’t even started yet. You march your ass up the stairs in your heels and wool pencil skirt and knock. Loudly. You kept knocking. You aren’t leaving until you have some satisfaction. You check your watch. Shit. You start pounding.

You hear noises behind the door marked 2A, a grumbling. “Hold on!” An angry shout directed at the person pounding on the door. You. The door jerks open. Grey sweats, bare feet, bare chest, oh god the tattoos, long curly hair, and brown eyes. Not green. Not Mary’s guy. Mr. Brown Eyes is smiling at you, annoyance forgotten. “Good morning, Sweetheart. What can I help you with.”

Oh, no. It’s him. You scoff and frown. Your eyebrows are drawn together while you take in the sight of him in the new context. The grin spread across his full lips infuriates you, his charms are lost on you. Maybe it would work better if you weren’t currently surviving on less than 4 hours of sleep. You can feel heat creeping up your neck and down the line of your jaw. 

“Hi, yeah. So, I live downstairs. You can absolutely do me a favor.” You smile at him with teeth, and he thinks his charms are working on you. He’s so wrong. That cocky bullshit never works with you. He returns your wide grin with one of his own. “I’m hoping that in the future you could take a moment to remember the fact that you have a neighbor downstairs that can hear you fucking the night away and keep it down.” His smile fathers - you go in for the kill, “Or at least maybe up your game. I’m getting really fucking tired of hearing the same shit with every girl you bring home.” You drop your voice to imitate his, “Oh, fuck. Your pussy’s so good, I’m gonna cum.”

You take a quick look at your watch while the half naked man in front of you flounders. His chest and neck are flushed red by the time you turn on your heel and stomp towards the back door of the building. You’re going to be late, you add it to the list of reasons to hate that fucking guy. Selfish dick.

You turn back to push open the door and call back, “Thanks so much, Daddy.”

–

The office is quiet when you let yourself in, but it doesn’t fool you. The stack of papers you left Friday afternoon are still waiting for you after you drop your lunch in the fridge and sit down. On cue, the phone rings, and you’re still pulling out a pen and legal pad when you answer it. Fucking Mondays. Everyone needs something from you, and you provide. It’s what you do. You think some day you’ll wake up empty, but it hasn’t happened yet.

You bite back a yawn and take a scalding gulp of the coffee from your Garfield mug. You hiss a little and wonder if there are scars on your esophagus from the acid and burning liquid. The taste of the weak Maxwell House brew is a reminder to get to work. No time to worry about the possible deterioration of your body, you put a rubber thimble on your thumb and get to the stack of mail sitting expectantly on the edge of your desk. 

“Morning, Sunshine.” Mr. Misny comes through the door like a hurricane force wind, just like every morning. Even the smile he wears is meant to intimidate, but you know that and let it feed the anger inside. “What’s my morning look like?”

“Carrington and Hodges at 9:15,” you put your hand up to stop the protest you can see rising up your boss’s throat, “it was the only time they could both make it. You’ll have to eat your pastry while you talk about their case. I saved a couple of hours for brief writing before your early afternoon meetings.”

“Well, aren’t you a peach?” Mr. Misny’s comically expressive eyebrows shoot up and his lips curl with a smile that has an edge. “What would I do without you, hm?”

You’d hire someone else for less than they’re worth and condescendingly thank them while never actually respecting the hard work they perform.

“You’d probably be late for every meeting.” You answer coolly. You can’t help but add, “Checks speak louder than words, Tim.”

He laughs at your “joke” and heads into his office, shaking his head all the way. He won’t be laughing when you finally turn in your resignation letter, but that won’t be today. Today you need to do this job that pays measly wages so you can afford your shitty little apartment. Your shitty little apartment where you can only sleep a couple of nights a week because of the son of a bitch that lives upstairs.

But he’s gorgeous. You slam the stapler down on the stack of papers in front of you at the thought. He’s gorgeous, and it only makes you angrier to have that visual frame of reference when you hear his headboard knocking on your shared wall. 

—

The day passes in front of you, and it’s not until your wristwatch chirps to remind you that it’s 4:30 that you realize you forgot to eat your lunch. Again. The alarm seems to have awoken your stomach, it growls angrily while you shove half finished work items into the drawers at your side and power down your word processing machine. When you leave your desk, it’s in perfect order, all the clutter is hidden away.  Your inbox is empty, your outbox is half full, and your pens are all put away. You were able to spend several hours transcribing today, and your head was pounding from having to listen to your boss’s voice over the headset for so long. Your mood is, as it was this morning, on the very edge of quiet rage. Your car coughs to life, and you think it’s as annoyed as you are today. That seems appropriate.

The drive is easy and quiet, a small blessing, the icy patches on the road are covered with fresh salt that crunches under your tires. You can’t find it in yourself to be grateful for it, your mind too fogged over with hunger and exhaustion. You’re sleeping tonight, and it doesn’t matter if you have to knock your neighbor unconscious to achieve a quiet night. 

Your luck runs out when you find the lock to the front of your apartment building frozen, and you lose your balance. You curse your impractical footwear and march angrily, and cautiously, to the back entrance and let yourself in. FInally. You scowl at apartment 1 and make your way down to the darker hallway where the laundry room, and your apartment, are located. There’s a brown paper bag taped to the door just under the number 2. There’s a note attached. You pull it down to read while you fiddle with your keys to unlock the last door between you and your refrigerator.

Pretty Neighbor Lady,

I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe these will help with our little problem. Consider it a gift. Stop by any time, I’d love to see you again.

-Eddie in apartment 2

You don’t even wait until you get inside the apartment before you tear open the bag to see what could possibly be hiding inside. A small cardboard box that contains - are you fucking kidding me - foam earplugs. The same kind your father used to wear when he worked at the warehouse. You write the name  “Eddie” at the top of your mental scorecard. “Eddie”, a real piece of work. 

—

Merciful silence. That’s the only way to describe the way the rest of the week goes. You don’t hear a sound from the man that lives above you. You almost wonder if he’s unwell, but you’ve caught sight of him in the parking lot a couple of times and he seems perfectly fine. You hadn’t expected it to work, but you’re glad you confronted him when you did. 

By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, you’re full of happy thoughts of napping with Henry, your orange tabby, before getting properly wasted and finding someone to pass the time with. It’s been too long, and you deserve this. 

Your apartment is dark when you get home, no Mary to be found. Henry has already assumed his nap position in your bed. You scratch behind his ear, and he chirps in response. Sweet boy. The shirt you want to wear out tonight, a red deep v-neck sweater, is on the top of your dirty laundry pile. It’s a sign, so you grab the basket and make your way across the hall to the laundry room. You can sleep once you start a load, you’ll thank yourself later. Last minute, you decide to throw in the outfit you’re wearing, and slip into a tank top and shorts. Ridiculous choice for this time of year, but the basement stays nice and warm - actually uncomfortably warm most of the time - laundry room included.

You’re relieved to find the washer and dryer silent. You count it as a small win until you open the washer and find it full of wet clothes. You’re tempted to throw the clothes onto the counter beside you, but decide against it. No need to make enemies, or any more enemies, in the building. Fine, asshole. I’ll dry your clothes. You’re lucky you have 2 rolls of quarters on you. 50 cents is worth keeping the peace.

What you find in the washer are - 2 pairs of black jeans, several black button ups, a couple of band t-shirts, black boxers, and grey sweatpants. You should have known that this is the kind person he is - leaving his wet boxers in a communal washing machine with no thought about the person that would have to stick their hands in to fish them out. With delicate fingers, you pull out each article of clothing with the tips of your fingers, and you fling them into the open dryer. You’re not aware of the audible grumbling coming from your mouth while you do the unpleasant task.

“Well, howdy neighbor! You’re an absolute sweetheart for switching my laundry for me.” The voice from the entryway makes you jump. You immediately straighten your back and ignore him. You ignore the steps you hear moving, sauntering, towards you, and keep focused on the job at hand. “You should stop by tonight,” he’s much closer now, his low voice and heavy presence at your back, “your roommate’s upstairs with Stevie right now. We could all get to know each other, all friendly neighbors.”

You slam the top of the washing down and spin to face him. He’s directly behind you, close enough to smell him. Cologne - Brut maybe? - cigarette smoke, and faintly of weed. He stands over you like a tower, but you don’t step back. You hold his gaze and wait. You, in your too short shorts and paint speckled tank top wearing an armor of barely suppressed rage. He breaks eye contact to look at you. You watch his eyes widen at the sight of the tattoos. His lips twitch when he sees the barbells poking through the thin fabric of your shirt. All of these things are so well hidden under the blazers and dress pants Monday through Friday.

“I would really like to take you out for a drink,” Eddie’s eyes are locked on yours again, only this time he seems to have shrunk down a little. He seems smaller than he did just a moment ago. It stirs a strange feeling in your stomach that you ignore.

“Thanks so much for the offer, neighbor, but I have plans tonight. Please, get your shit out of the dryer when it’s done. I’d hate for you to find it all over the concrete if you forget.” You push past him, heading towards your apartment door and hear him groan behind you.

“Come on, Sweetheart. You need to loosen up, get that stick out of your ass. I bet I could help with that.” 

You turn around and press your back against the metal door of your apartment and crook a finger at him. He’s so cocky, you’re thinking while the smile spreads across his lips and he makes his way closer to you, I’d love to bend him over my knee right here in this hallway.

“Come here.” You crook your finger at him. Eddie’s giving you a dopey smile as he sashays close, bringing his ear down closer to your mouth. He smells like shampoo and Irish Spring, clean with a hint of something - probably his skin - that makes you want to stick your tongue out and taste him. Instead, you rest your fingers at the base of his neck. You keep your tone soft, and put on the best sultry voice you can muster outside of a bedroom, “Don’t you worry about what’s up my ass, Sweetheart. I don’t let cocky little whores anywhere near it.”

Eddie is a statue. You’d think him made of stone if not for the quickening pulse you feel under your fingertips. You stand up on the balls of your feet to give yourself a couple extra inches, angling your mouth even closer to his ear, and whisper, “What about your ass, Baby?”

You give Eddie an exaggerated frown and push him away from you, moving the hand from his neck down to his chest. You leave him there, mouth open but no words coming from it, and slam your apartment door behind you. There’s a fire in your gut, and you need to remove yourself from the presence of that menace of a man before it begins to spread from under your skin and into the open.

You make a beeline straight for your bedroom. That fire continues to grow through your anger and irritation. How dare he? It’s not a thing you can control, the way your body reacts to the sight of him with those low slung grey sweatpants. The pretty curve of his lips. Those brown eyes. In your mind you can envision him here with you. His arms are stretched up high, wrists strung up to your headboard. He’s moaning at the sight of you with your little bullet vibrator placed firmly to ease your ache. 

Except, the noises you’re hearing are not in your mind at this moment, they’re drifting down that open vent. You bite your lip and press the vibrator harder at the realization. The taste of coppery blood hits your tongue, you can’t let him hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. You listen to him cry out in pleasure, pretty noises that push you right to the edge of your own cliff. A soft whimper is what causes you to stumble. Your release is a flood, and you have to turn your face to let your own cries die in the safety of your pillow.

He’s loud, even when he’s fucking his own fist, and you’re done for. You’re biting your lip so hard, not wanting him to hear you. He doesn’t deserve it. He needs to earn it. Your teeth clamped so hard you taste blood by the time the pleasure is done rippling through your body. He’s still moaning like a bitch, and you fall asleep to the sound, only waking when your watch alerts you that it’s time to switch your laundry.

The washroom light is on, and your laundry is already tumbling in the dryer. Your sweaters, bras, and underwear are spread along the table in the corner to air dry. There’s a note sitting on the dryer 1A written on the outside.

I hope this makes your life easier, 

Your cocky little whore,

Eddie

You close your eyes and imagine him holding your delicates in his hands, gently placing them flat to dry. This is bad, very bad.

—

Makeup first. Black eyeliner thick around your eyes, Mary always says it’s too much. She once introduced you as “her roommate that wears too much black eyeliner”,  but it makes you feel so sexy. A red lip. You fish around your jewelry box to find your favorite choker and the cute bat earrings that were a gift from an ex-boyfriend. It’s been too long since you were able to dress this way - the way you like. Sheer black pantyhose, black boots, black mini skirt, and a red deep v sweater.

You’re going out, even if Mary stays in with Mr. Green Eyes and Mr. Grey Sweatpants - Eddie.

You’ll find someone tonight, maybe you’ll even bring them back here. It’s fun to imagine Eddie in his bed listening to the sounds of you and someone else. You imagine him reaching a hand under the waistband of his sweats. You think of him with his mouth hanging open while trying to hold back the sounds that you know like to escape while he’s touching himself. You clear your throat and shake the image out of your mind.

It was yesterday evening that you realized the heating vent in your room must lead directly up to his own room. It’s the only explanation for how clearly you can hear him. You could make him jealous if you really wanted. Jealous of you or your hypothetical partner. Man, woman…it doesn’t matter, and he wasn’t the only one that knew how to make a woman scream, although you prefer when they listen and keep quiet. It’s rude to be too loud when you live in an apartment building. You dick.

You make a detour to 2A to give Mary a chance to come with you before you head downtown. The guy that answers the door is a little taller than Eddie and very pretty. He’s wearing a polo shirt and tight jeans, his hair is so stupidly gorgeous. His eyes bug out a bit when he sees you at his door but recovers with a friendly smile. “Hey, I’m your neighbor in 1A, I was looking for- oh there she is.”

Mary is sitting on the couch with a beer in her hand, and she gives you a wave. “I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Don’t be mad!” You shake your head and point your finger at your roommate. “You owe me. I take it I’m flying solo tonight?” Her eyes are squinting and she’s giving you a pained smile.

“I would say you could stay and hang out with us, but you look like you’re ready for more of a party than I can offer.” The guy, Stevie, you remember Eddie calling him that, is giving you a genuine smile. You’re returning it with ease, because he really does seem like a nice guy. “Yeah, next time? Have fun you two.” You’re wearing your best smile so they know there’s no hard feelings and head out into the night.

The walk is chilly, but your building is only a half a mile from the bars downtown. It was one of the reasons you were willing to move into the shitty basement apartment. That and the easy access to the laundry room. Your purse has the essentials. Wallet, mace, lipstick, condoms, collapsible baton, and camels. Your keys sit on your hip attached to your wallet chain. You know there would be at least a couple of bars that had bands playing tonight. Musicians are reliably horny, even though most of the time you end up regretting letting them into your bed. 

The bright lights in the first bar, along with the house music, are an absolute no for you. You walk in, look around the room, and immediately head back out. The next bar has pool tables lined up in the back room. Lots of dudes turn to look at you when you enter, and you grip the handle of your purse. Leers sweeping from your hair to your boots. You smoothly turn and leave before anyone can talk to you. Bar number 3, however, is smokey and you can hear someone performing a mic check. A mix of leather clad men, women, and everything in between. The bartender has a flannel tied around her waist and an undercut. Winner.

“Hey sweetie, what can I get for you.” The bartender is very pretty up close, and openly scanning your chest. You’re giving her a wolfish grin and looking up to the ceiling with a finger on your lips, as if thinking hard.

“Oh, I think I’d like a double Jameson straight up.” You blink your eyes at her and she’s laughing at your antics while she gets your drink. “What can you tell me about the band tonight?”

“Metal. The guys play here pretty often. Corroded Coffin. The crowd is pretty fun, even if you’re not into the music.” Definitely not your typical scene, but you like this place, and you’re willing to let the music work magic on the crowd.

You’re reaching into your wallet for a card to hand over to start a tab. You’re thinking about suggesting the bartender keep you in mind at the end of the night, you’re sure she’d be up for passing some time with you, when you feel a familiar presence at your side.

“Jeannie, how are you tonight?” A hand is on your own, halting its movement. You know this voice. Are you kidding me? “Whatever this pretty lady wants is on our tab tonight, ok?” Jeannie’s eyebrows are high enough that they’re almost lost in her microbangs. She looks to you for confirmation, and you shake your head.

“She’s saying no, Ed.” Jeannie shrugs a little and accepts your card. “Shocking, I know.” She’s laughing at him a little, and you’re loving it. His eyes finally find your own, and he’s frowning. Sad puppy eyes. They sparkle. An effective weapon.

“Come on, you gotta give me something here. You’re killing me.”  Eddie sounds genuinely pained. Butterflies beat their wings in your gut at the thought of disappointing him. 

“Oh, Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m paying for myself tonight.” You place your hand on his neck and pull him close to your face while his eyes stay on your cherry red lips. “Think I might have a shot with Jeannie tonight?” 

His mouth lets out a little noise that you’d swear was a whimper. It’s then that the music changes from the metal that’s been blaring over the speakers to Peaches. Fuck the Pain Away. Jeannie is laughing behind the counter, she must have put the song on while you and Eddie were sparring. 

Eddie is glaring at you with eyes that are not shiny and sweet - they’re black pools. The grin creeping on his lips is sinister. He leans into your ear to make sure you can hear what he’s got to say over the thumping music. “Do me a favor, yeah? Bring Jeannie out on the dance floor when she’s on her break. I want to see you move.”

He’s gone now, and you knock back your drink. Of course, he’s heading to the stage just as Peaches is chanting for the crowd to fuck the pain away, and Jeannie is refilling your glass. “This one’s on me, Sugar. I like watching someone put Eddie in his place.” Yeah, well he just did a good job of keeping me sitting firmly on this stool, you don’t say. You can feel heat in your chest that’s creeping up your neck, a mix of embarrassment and lust hot on your skin.

And it’s no surprise to you that he is sex on fire on the stage. You fully understand it now. You see the fuller picture of him while he’s at center stage, everything else fades to black. All of the girls that he brings into his bed. His leather jacket is tossed to the side and he’s wearing a crop top sleeveless shirt. His fingers move on his guitar, a fucking Warlock, and your eyes are glued to him. When he starts to sing, you feel like you can’t breathe. You’re warm all over, and it’s not because of the crowd. No, it’s because he’s watching you watch him. You can’t stop yourself. It’s like you two are the only ones in this crowded bar, and he’s hypnotizing you.

You have no idea how long it’s been when Jeannie is coming around the bar to tell you her break is starting. You grab her hand and drag her to the floor. It’s in between songs, and you see Eddie yell back to the rest of the band. The next song is a major departure from the rest of the band’s set, and you know it’s for you, so you make it count. The guitar riff starts, and you circle around Jeannie eyes on Eddie. The drums start and you’re moving your hips to the rhythm. The crowd is moving as one and the energy is palpable. Jeannie is laughing, you made sure to whisper to her about the show you’re putting on for Eddie. You both dance together, your hands never leaving the bartender once during Thunderstruck. When the song ends, you see Eddie adjust his (very tight) jeans, and you leave the floor, dragging Jeannie out the back door and into the alley.

[b-lossm]

•*+Change pt.2+*•

Caitvi x reader [just vi for this part, fluffier but still angsty]

Synopsis: wait hes.. alive? pt.1

SPOILERS FOR ACT 2!!

Its been months since you've seen Cait, or Vi. You don't even know if you three two are still together, Lately you've heard rumors about another 'Hound of the Underground' taking on the pit fighting scene with rigor. The description almost sounds like Vi, but black hair? She was always proud of her reddish pink hair.

You walk into the arena and pay the fee to get the red ticket, you notice her friend loris in the crowd and make your way over to him. After one quick conversation later and you find out what happened and that she came her to 'outrun her demons', your anger for Caitlyn boiling over but quickly simmering down once you see your girlfriend "Holy shit....." you say, admiring her appearance, her muscles somehow got bigger, and the black suited her, but you like the pink more.

Standing there she doesn't notice you at first, focus on punching this guy's jaw again, but then she hears your familiar shouting from the sidelines, at first she thought she was hallucinating you again, but then she realizes its actually you and decides to put on a show just for you.

--

After her match you meet her again, hugging her softly before asking her what happened with Caitlyn even though Loris told you, you had to hear it from her "I don't wanna talk about it Sunshine, what she did made me question everything--made me question if what me and her had was even real or if she was just using me for information and my strength" oh your poor girl. You push her head into the crook of your neck "lets rest yeah? is that okay?" you don't wanna push the subject anymore, knowing that she' gonna tell you about it eventually. She cuddles into you, dropping her fists to hold you close "mph- yeah that's great Sunshine" she gives you soft kisses on your neck, missing the feeling of your skin on hers "G'night Y/n" she mumbles defeatedly "Goodnight" you kiss her forehead and rub the back of her undercut.

Before you surrender yourself to sleep you look around her small room, looking at all the discarded bottles and broken pieces of glass, noticing the beat up punching bag that has her black makeup on it, right where her eyes are 'my poor violet' you think 'what happened to us' your mind drifts to yours and hers room in your little apartment in Piltover, the nights and days you three would spend together, laughing and having fun before they had to leave.

--

The next morning you both wakeup with a start, she sits up slightly to see the source of the noise only to see her.. sister? After their argument, she told the two of you Vander was somehow alive and that he needed help.

"I have to do this y/n" she says while grabbing her gauntlets "Please let me come Vi--please" you beg, not wanting to be alone again, she places her hands on your waist, leaning in for a deep kiss coming back up for air she says "I promise I'll come back, I promise you y/n, go stay with Loris for a bit and I promise you that I'll come back" she hopes that you understand, even though her sister is a crazy she it had to be serious if she wasn't trying to kill her.

--

After your tearful reunion with the man, Jinx leads your little group to the outskirts of the fissures, Vi taking the time to catch you up with what happened, how she feels like her love for Cait was one sided all this time after her betrayal. Attempting to comfort her you try to reassure her that what she thinks isn't true, how she's too focused on grief and how she hit you too-- "What..?" Vi stops walking "She hit.. you too?" her anger is picking up, you can tell "umm. yeah..bu--" "No buts y/n what the fuck?? you didn't even do anything" she cuts you off obviously pissed at your guys' ex girlfriend, you sigh not wanting to talk about it "Vi can we just talk about it later" "No! this isn't oka--" she interrupts you again, then getting cut off by Jinx "We're here!!". The both of you look ahead at this weirdly pastel oasis civilization.

"we will talk about this later" she says with a huff after surrendering her gauntlets. You kiss her cheek to calm her down "Alright" you missed that little flash of red that appeared on her face whenever you did that, you miss the little flash of pink that appeared on Cait' face but you probably aren't gonna see her anytime soon.. you think

———————————————————————

act two will have two parts because so much happened!! tbh i kinda dont like this but whatever

[justarandombrit]

Believe it or not, I did in fact go to see Spies Are Forever (you'd never know from looking at my blog), and, as usual, I wrote down some notes. My memory is shit so I'll probably update this with additions when I remember more, but for now, below the cut...

Act 1:

. They played Show Stoppin' Number and so many people were singing along

. It started midway through them playing The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals

. Joey: “Sorry to anyone who thought they were seeing Wizard Of Oz. Although, this show has many friends of Dorothy”

. Emily Proudlock has a beautiful voice. The microphone was struggling a little at the start, though lmao

. THEY GOT AN ACTUAL BANANA PEEL

. Oliver Ormson (Owen) called Curt “Mega” which in the show he doesn't do until he becomes the DMA (not a criticism, just interesting)

. Owen said the “A man needs his privacy”(?) line, so Owen and Barb have officially interacted now

. I love Brian's Informant. His French accent was so over the top

. Brian stared at Clark when he said “The Deadliest Man Alive” until Clark played the keyboard sting. And then whenever anyone else said it throughout the show, he played it.

. They left in a huge awkward silence when the DMA was waiting for Sergio and it was so funny

. Sergio sounded so awkward when he said “You guys can relate, right?”

. Joey fucking SCREAMED “PLEASE!” during Sergio's little Somebody's Gotta Do It reprise

. “The Deadliest Man Alive disarms Mega and escapes”

“He does?”

. Dean John Wilson walked back on stage after his exit, said “The Deadliest Man” and left again

. Okay, so Claire M. Hall is a perfect Cynthia

. You guys are gonna crucify me for this, but I actually liked her Eyes On The Prize I better than Lauren's…

. Joey was making the weirdest faces during Eyes On The Prize II

. Curt cocked his head at Hallucination!Owen and Owen shrugged and mouthed “I don't know” at him

. I LOVE EMILY OOI’S BARB!!!!!! She did a cute little dance during “It's actually a gun!”

. Obioma (Curt) pretending his beard had been shaved lmao

. No Richard Big appearance sadly

. Curt was even more oblivious about Tatiana hitting on him than in the actual show

. The Nazi ensemble stuck around throughout the whole scene and kept gasping when Curt called them villains

. THEY MADE NOT SO BAD… EVEN MORE NOT SO BAD

. “SAY WE GOT A BIT LOST, WITH THE WHOLE HOLO–” *looks at ensemble* “ehh…”

. “WE DID ALL WE COULD DO TO poopoo THE JEW”

. They didn't make the audience chant, which was… probably for the best

. Von Nazi yelled “I'm a big boy! A BIG BOY” at Mega then walked off without using his knees

. Curt groaned and hung his head when the DMA said “I'm gonna torture the living shite outta you”

. Actually gasped at the overlapping “Doesn't even matter if I killed my best friend” and “To show you the horror of staying alive”, even though I knew it was coming

. The homoeroticism 🤌🤌🤌🤌

Act 2:

. I WAS ON THE SAME ROW AS A.J. FUCKING HOLMES AND DIDN'T NOTICE UNTIL JOEY SHOUTED HIM OUT

. Joey shouted out loads of cosplayers still in character as Vanger Borschtit

. Everyone was so excited about Vanger Borschtit, and Joey made everyone cheer for an acceptable amount of time “for his reel”

. The new We Love the Prince lyrics really are so much better (also what did he do to the Pope?!?!?)

. Vanger Borschtit was DISTRAUGHT when the prince died

. Obioma stared so blankly into the audience at “Or whatever it is you boys do in the rumpus room”

. I think out of all of the new cast members, Evelyn Hoskins (Tatiana) sounded the most like the original actor (she was also so cool)

. Obioma actually sung the little “Very good place to start” Sound Of Music reference and Tatiana looked so annoyed

. Tatiana was SO into Doing This up until the kiss (which wasn't a real kiss lmao)

. MRS MEGAAAAAAAAAA

. The lights flashed rainbow after the line “So we're just… friends?”

. Curt looked straight at Barb when he said “Some of us may die”

. Curt paused before he drank the shot, and then started drinking a load and everyone stared at him, really concerned. It was a really neat piece of acting

. Von Nazi kept stressing how he had no idea how Feurgin was killed

. The Informant looked so concerned at the start of NSB reprise, then actually kinda got into it

. Jak Malone (Von Nazi) made his death SO DRAMATIC. He fell to the ground and went “Ow, my back! Ow, my front! Ow, my…self” and then got up and bowed

. Owen stood behind the DMA and they just spun around while Joey narrated

. Joey: “THE DEADLIEST MAN ALIVE FALLS DOWN THROUGH A HIDDEN TRAP DOOR IN THE STAGE–”

. ONE STEP AHEAD JSTSKTKEYYKDKFYFUHDYSWWGDJFKGKFDHSGSTSFJKGKGKGJDSYSYIFKF I'M NOT OKAY

Dean: *Crouch-walks away*

. Owen stared directly at Curt (and addressed him instead of Tatiana) when he said “Don't slip up” and loads of people “Ooh”ed

. Owen seemed actually on the verge of tears in Spies Are Forever (Reprise)

. He also fully yelled “You're a caveman!”

. They changed the line “Taking your advice” to “Moving on”, just like Curt (I think it was Curt? Edit: IT WAS JOEY) wanted in the livestream

. The speech before Spy Again (Reprise) was so good. Everyone came out on stage and it was all just incredible

. SPIES ARE FOREVER, IT'S A MUSICAAAAAAAAALLLLLL……. IT'S ABOUT SPIES!

[loseractivities]

Ok time to yap about Billy Loomis. What is bros sexuality?

Billy is 100% gay. I also think that he’s on the aromantic/asexual spectrum, with the best label fitting him being demiaroace. In simple terms, I think the only way he feels authentic romantic/sexual attraction is when he has a very deep emotional, (whether he likes to admit that or not), bond with someone.

People often like to bring up his romantic relationship with Sidney and his sexual affairs with other women, one of which we have proof of in the later movies. Because he was dating Sidney before his mom even left, and they were known to have started off “hot and heavy”, (as Billy likes to call it), he didn’t really have any reason to be doing that. Or did he?!

It goes without being said that Billy is a conventionally attractive white male in the ‘90s. In the movie, we already see Billy’s efforts to appear as normal as possible, wearing bland clothes with little room for interpretation and speaking very little to others. Which leads to why Billyboy was sleeping with girls when he was a big fat QUEER!! …

Billy loves control! He loves it, he loves planning everything out and acting it out like it’s a movie because of his dumb special interest. He loves predictability, he loves feeling normal, and he loves having control over people. What better way to feel in control, (perhaps of his own sexuality), than by sleeping with and casually dating girls!! It makes so much sense.

How does Stu play into this?

Well firstly Stu is Billy’s only real friend. Through subtext we can tell that Billy trusts Stu a lot, considering he trusted him to 1. Call Sidney while he was in jail. 2. Be ghostface with him and have him not tell anyone. 3. Literally fucking stab him… The list goes on. People like to say that Stu didn’t know Billy’s real motive too, which is fucking stupid because why wouldn’t Billy tell him this?? One entire year between murdering Sidney’s mother and then eventually attempting to murder her and all her friends, and you’re telling me Stu wouldn’t have suspected a thing? Just for fun?? Yeah right!

Also people try to say “okay, well then why did Billy stab him so much in the kitchen if he wasn’t trying to kill him”? Firstly it was always part of the plan for Stu and Billy to be the only survivors because only one survivor is extremely suspicious. Secondly you can tell he was just not thinking clearly, he acted on his anger and lost focus of his goal (KILLING SIDNEY??NOT HIS BF??) which is something he NEVER DOES!!

Man,, the whole final act is my favorite, because it really shows both Billy and Stu coming apart and quite literally COMING OUT as the killers. Come on guys. Media. Fucking. Literacy. They literally penetrate each other right in front of Billy’s girlfriend, and that shit was freaky as fuck.

ANYway I’m going off on a tangent. I do wanna talk about why Billy didn’t explicitly say anything about being gay when he so very obviously is. Billy, in all areas, is much less obvious than Stu.

He’s closed off, secretive, keeps up a pretty believable facade to everyone until the finally is able to drop the act. It makes sense he isn’t as physically or verbally affectionate with Stu, and for this reason people are more inclined to believe Stu is gay and in love with Billy more than Billy is gay and in love with him. Well, in order to get a good sense of Billy’s relationship with Stu, you have to look deeper. Let’s start with some things from the script, since there are very few scenes with the two interacting.

Stu and Billy, in the script, are best friends, have known each other since kindergarten, and are partners in crime. Billy obviously is capable of forming strong bonds and connections with very specific people. Even unhealthily so, and we see this in the relationship he has with his mother. He idolizes her, victimizes her, makes her more than she was as a coping mechanism and never officially comes to terms with the fact his mom probably wasn’t as great as he remembers. And when his mom leaves, he breaks, needs control (as stated previously) because his life is suddenly unstable and who does he turn to? Stu!

Also I just wanna say when Stu drapes over his back Billy leans into him okay thanks. Body language in this movie means SO FUCKING MUCH TO ME these actors did amazing. When Billy follows Sidney inside the look of CONTEMPT ON HIS FACE!! The way he looks through his eyelashes. The acting is impeccable Skeety, I love you!!!! 😐😐 Also the way Billy looks at Stu before stabbing himmm…He;s in love I promise. In whatever way he knows how

Lastly the boy has autism

Passionate interests, he loves horror movies and constantly references them throughout the film. Even at unconventional times, like when his girlfriend is venting about her dead mother. Eye contact and too much staring. Meltdowns when overstimulated. The whole last act was just him stimming and destroying shit because stuff didn’t go his way. Bad reactions when plans are interrupted. At the staircase when Sid runs away he punches himself in frustration. Talks with hands in Sidney’s room about The Exorcist. Favorite person/people (his mom and Stu). Extremely overdramatic. When he got fake stabbed. When he falls down the fucking stairs for no reason. Finally, just socially awkward. Any word out of his mouth makes people uneasy. Ez

…Finally for Billy I js wanna say he arches it a lot and I think only someone who takes it like a good boy wpu;ld do that Ok im done by.e

LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE FOR MORE BANGERS LIKE THIS ONE

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VILLAIN!HYUNJIN, FEM!HERO!READER, HYUNJIN OBSESSED W/ READER, EXES TO ???, SEX TOYS, LINGERIE, STALKING (?), CORRUPTION KINK, MENTIONS OF TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, CHOKING, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, BOOB/NIPPLE PLAY, HANDCUFFS, HARD DOM!HYUNJIN, ORAL (F. REC), UNPROTECTED SEX, THEY’RE MEAN TO EACH OTHER, PET NAMES (BEAUTIFUL, DARLING,), (1) PUSSY SLAP, SEX TOYS, BEGGING, ORGASM DENIAL, CREAMPIE, VIBRATOR TORTURE, IMPLIED MORE ROUNDS ☾ ━━━ WC: 2.9K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     It was a game to him. A little bit of cat and mouse. Who was who didn't matter? It was fun either way. It was a long game.

     To her, it was a frustration. Dealing with his misleading games. From small petty crimes to large-scale ones, he evaded her. Leaving the scene just as she got there leaving a note. 

     ‘Next time, beautiful. - H’

     A rose with every letter he left. Stumping his little hero in her tracks before he let her catch onto him. Purposefully letting her catch a glimpse of him when she came to stop him. Leaving hints till he was just within reach of him. 

      Playing his cards right to lead her to some dingy nightclub. Getting lost in the crowd. Watching her look for him till he caught her off guard. He was the cat tonight. 

     Quickly walked up behind her on the crowded dance floor and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her back into his chest. Leaning into his ear. “Don’t turn around, beautiful.”

     “Whatever you're planning, don't.” She replied.

     “Then you’ll follow me,” he told her, pulling her out of the crowd and down a hallway. 

     There was barely any light in the hallway. She couldn't even see his face. Just his silhouette— tall and slender. Shorter hair bounced slightly as he walked. 

     Making a sharp turn into a room before pulling her in. Keeping the lights off as he pushed her against the wall.  Pushing his body right against hers. Even in the dark, she could tell he was smirking. 

     “What are you after?” She asked, waiting for her to adjust to the dark to make out his face. 

     “Originally, just the thrill and money. Then you came to the city.”

     She knew that voice. Just couldn’t figure out where. 

     “What do I have to do with this?” she asked 

     “You haven’t figured it out, darling?”

     “Hyu—”

     Y/n was cut off from her sentence by his lips. Those plump lips that took her forever to forget. Just confirming her guess. Only he had ever called her that nickname. 

     His lips left hers as quickly as they were on hers. “Told you we’d meet again. Just need you to want me like I want you, again.”

     Hyunjin pulled away from her and quickly left the room. Y/n followed him a second too late. He was gone as quickly as he appeared. 

     She wasn't aware he was living a double life when they met. She’d just moved to the city for work. She started her ‘volunteer work’ a few days later and two weeks later she met Hyunjin when she was grabbing coffee before work. He had come up and asked her on a date. What could go wrong?

     Maybe it was his possessiveness that set her off. Some was fine but it had caused so many arguments between them in the few months they were together. If they weren’t fighting, they were fucking.

     It wasn’t healthy so she ended things. Five months went by without a hitch. Two months ago, “H” started messing with her. Now everything was making sense to her. 

     She was happy she was off from her day job the next day. Sitting on her couch with her computer and a cup of coffee, hacking into the police department records. There wasn't anything on Hyunjin, he was good at covering his tracks so the cops hadn’t caught him.

     She jumped when she heard her doorbell buzz. She shut her laptop and walked to her apartment door. Seeing a flower delivery man through her peephole. Sighing as she opened the door. 

     “For Y/n L/n,” He said 

     “Thank you,” Y/n smiled, taking the bouquet from him and closing the door. 

     Red roses. A signature at this point for him but she still read the note sticking out from the top.

     ‘I know you’re looking for me, darling. You’ll only find me when I want you to. Keep thinking of me ♡- Hyunjin’

     The pattern repeated every week. She’d look for him but it’d seem he disappeared. His little crime spree seemed to stop, but not other criminals. She did her job in the dead of night. Leaving them for the cops to pick up later. Even though it was their job to catch the criminals in the city, when she got home in the early hours of the morning, there was always something. Notes, flowers, gifts. His attempt at winning her back. Everything but the notes was tossed.

     She had a distaste for how often he was on her mind now. She’d barely thought about him in months but their nightclub encounter was messing with her head. Then she’d drift to their good times— however rare they were.

     Maybe that's how she found herself at the same nightclub. Her eyes peeled for him but he never showed. Rather she was hit on by drunk men all night till she called it quits heading back to her apartment building. Parking her car and heading back up to her unit. 

     She sensed something off when she opened her door. Nothing was out of place, everything was locked. Nonetheless, she quietly closed her front door and locked it. Slipping off her shoes and hanging up her things while grabbing one of the throwing knives she carried out her bag to check her rooms. Just to find nothing but a gift box on her bed. 

     Slowly she walked towards it and undid the ribbon. Jumping as her phone rang.

     She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the screen. Unknown caller. She answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

     “Not gonna finish opening your present?” Hyunjin’s voice rang the speaker

     “Where are you Hyunjin,” Y/n said

     “Mhm, I missed the way you say my name,” he chuckled on the other end of the line. Fuck that laugh

     Y/n put her phone on speaker and set it on her bed while she opened the box. Tissue paper covering whatever was under it. Lifting the tissue to find a red and black lingerie set with an egg vibrator sitting on top.

     “You like your gift darling?” 

     “Are you out of your mind?” Y/n asked after taking the phone off speaker

     “Mmmm, yes. I am. But you are too.”

     “I’m perfectly sane.”

     “Perfectly sane people don’t jump from buildings every night and take out shitty excuses for criminals. Or chase after their exes”

     “I’m not chasing you.”

     “You’re not?” Hyunjin laughed again, “Then why go to that club again? Definitely didn’t look like you were interested in any of the drunks that came up to you.”

     He was there. And he was watching. 

     “Admit it Y/n, you need me. All over again. We were almost perfect together.”

     “Fighting and fucking all the time was ‘almost perfect’ to you?”

     “The fucking, yes. Could’ve done with less fighting.”

     “That’s why I left.”

     “But here you are, chasing me.”

     Y/n went to say something else but he hung up. She tried calling back but nothing. Sighing in frustration she threw her phone on her bed. Moving the box off her bed and stepping out onto her fire escape for some air. She should just go to sleep but didn’t think she would be able to. It was nearing four in the morning.

     Putting pieces together on a chilly night. Hyunjin knew where she was— not that she moved after their breakup— and how to get in. He possibly could have made a copy of her key and was using that. But there weren’t any threats or danger in his actions. He was just obsessed. Which matched with his possessiveness. 

     He was also watching her. How? She had no clue. She went back inside and checked her whole apartment for cameras or microphones. Nothing. That meant he was close by.

     Y/n went on about her life. Keeping an eye on her surroundings for him. Waiting to see if he would slip up. And he did.

     Her coworkers had insisted on going out over the weekend. A group of them going out to the club and opening a tab. Forgetting about the work stress of dancing and alcohol.

     Hyunjin followed, just as he had. His whole plan was working far too slowly for his taste. Materialistic things weren’t working like he thought. Maybe he could get her alone again. And luck was on his side. Her group had left her on the dance floor and he was behind her in seconds, hands on her hips

     “You look good,” He whispered in her ear

     “Still trying?” She laughed as she turned to him

     “You’re worth trying for.”

     “What’s your end goal here, Hyunjin?” She asked as she pulled him closer to her, just to have a semi-private conversation on the dance floor.

     “Fuck you till you’re as crazy as I am.”

     Y/n looked over his facial expression. He was serious with that devilish smile of his. Leaning in till his lips ghosted her ear. “It’s not like anyone after me has gotten you off like I have. Isn’t that right?”

     “Been keeping that close of tabs, have you?” Y/n tried not to let it phase her

     “Of course I have. Tell me I’m right.”

     Hyunjin lifted a hand to hold her chin while he locked eye contact with her, “Tell me I’m right, and I’ll give you all those pretty orgasms you’ve been missing.”

     “Fuck you,” Y/n said before pulling him to her lips. 

     Hyunjin responded quickly and let his hand rest against her neck. Smiling into their heated kiss before pulling back. “That's my girl.”

     Y/n quickly pulled both of them out of the club. Hyunjin smirked at her eagerness, letting her drag him out to the alleyway behind the club. Pressing him up against the wall and pressing her lips to his again. 

     Hyunjin moaned into her lips before flipping them so she was against the wall. Pressing her hips against his while she gripped his jacket. Slipping his tongue past her lips and dominating her mouth. 

     Y/n fought back with her own tongue till his hand wrapped around her throat. Gasping as he pulled away and looked at her. “I wonder what this city would think about their favorite hero falling for a villain's charms.”

     He let go of her and pulled her out of the alley. Dragging her towards her apartment. The two made it up her stairs as quickly as they could while Y/n grabbed her keys out of her bag. Hyunjin pressed himself right up behind her, leaning in to kiss her neck till the lock clicked and the door opened. Walking inside with her and locking the door behind him. 

     Turning her around and walking her back into her living room, lips reattaching to hers. Backing up to the back of her couch. Y/n grabbed at the back of his neck, pulling lightly at his hair while he sat her on the back of the couch. 

     “Missed these lips so damn much,” Hyunjin mumbled against her lips as he shrugged off his jacket, “been thinking about them every night.”

     “Gonna talk all night or you gonna make do on your promise,” Y/n asked

     Hyunjin smirked and picked her up by her thighs. Wrapping her legs around him, “Don't be taking an attitude now darling.” He warned as he walked towards her bedroom 

     “Thought you liked it when I had one,” Y/n teased

     Hyunjin walked through her door and pinned her down onto her bed, attacking her neck. Kissing the top of her breasts that peaked out from her shirt before lifting the fabric over her head. Just to be greeted with the lingerie he had bought her. 

     Y/n knew his ego was growing seeing the red and black lace. She could see it in his eyes and by the way he practically ripped the remainder of her clothes off her body— lingerie included— before discarding his. Pinning her wrists to her pillows as he started marking up her skin

     Y/n tried slipping her hands out of his but Hyunjin was quick to catch on and moved to hold her hands above her head in one hand while looking down at her. “Can’t behave unless you're tied up, huh?”

     Hyunjin leaned over to her nightstand and opened the bottom drawer. Finding that his toy selection hadn't moved. Pulling out a pair of handcuffs, and locking her to the bed frame. Y/n tugged on the cuffs, both of them knew how to get out of them. That’s why Hyunjin was quick to drag his fingers through her folds and wrap his plump lips around her nipple. His rough tongue flicked the bud while his thumb slowly rolled across her clit. Slowly slipping two fingers inside her. 

     Y/n arched slightly into him, biting her bottom lip to stop her moans. Hyunjin thrusted his fingers in and out of her, slowly picking up his pace. Switching between her breasts sucking, licking, biting, and blowing on her nipples. Making her shiver from the cold feeling. 

     Slowly his lips trailed down her body after getting bored with her tits. Laying on his stomach and wrapping his pretty lips around her clit. Sucking on the little bud and slipped a third finger in. Curling up into her walls. 

     Y/n slowly rocked against him as the pads of his fingers just were barely rubbing against the one spongy spot inside of her. “Fuck,” Y/n whined

     Hyunjin pressed on, finding the spot and abusing it along with her clit. Listening to her moans pick up. Feeling her legs shake next to him as her rocking became more erratic till she stilled. Warmth covered his fingers. 

     He pulled his fingers out and pushed his tongue inside her. Thrusting the muscle in and out of her as she rode out her high. However, he didn't stop once she came down. Licking her clean from the inside till he was satisfied. 

     Sitting up on his knees as he pushed her legs open, hooking his hands under her knees. “Don't got much to say now?” he teased as he wrapped one hand around his leaky cock. Pumping himself a few times before lining the tip up at her entrance. 

     “Just waiting for you to give me a good fuck,” Y/n smiled. 

     Hyunjin scoffed before sinking into her in one go. Watching her mouth fall open. He leaned down and he grabbed her neck as her mouth closed again. “You’re so much nicer to me when my cock’s inside you,” he chuckled as he pulled back and thrusted into her again. 

     Sitting back up and keeping his hold on her neck, using it to push her to meet his thrust. Feeling her vocal cords move under his hand from any whines and moans she was making. 

     “Seems like you missed having me inside your pretty little pussy,” Hyunjin groaned 

     “Didn't miss you at all,” Y/n shot back at him

     “Really?” Hyunjin pulled his hand from her neck and then pulled out of her. Listening as she whined and her hips bucked towards him. Her hole clenching around nothing, “Seems like you did.”

     Hyunjin brought his hand down on her wet cunt. Enjoying the little scream she let out. He peaked over at the open toy drawer to see what else he could use. Pulling out a magic wand and licking his lips. 

     He didn't think twice about turning the toy to the second-lowest setting and pressing it against her clit. 

     “Oh fuck,” Y/n whined, throwing her head back into the pillow 

     “You're going to start begging if you wanna cum,” Hyunjin told her 

     He kept one hand pressing the toy to her clit while he wrapped the other around himself. Getting off to the way her body shook from the toy. Waiting to hear her beg for him to fuck her again. 

     “‘M gonna cum,” Y/n moaned

     Hyunjin pulled the toy away from her clit. Laughing at her whines and pleas. 

     “Please Jinnie, wanna cum so bad,” Y/n whined, “Promised you’d give me em.”

     “That’s before you were a brat,” Hyunjin huffed 

     “‘M sorry! I missed you, missed having you inside me! Need you to cum,” Y/n rambled, tears escaping her eyed 

     “Yeah?” He asked, feeling his high quickly approaching, and pointed his tip at her wet folds, more aiming for her clenching hole

     “Yes! Thought of you every time I was with someone else!”

     Y/n gasped as Hyunjin filled her with his cock again. Immediately bullying his cock against her walls. Pressing the toy back against her clit, feeling her clench around him. 

     “Shit,” Hyunjin groaned. 

     Within a few more thrusts, he buried himself inside her. His warm cum filled her up. The vibrator slipped from her clit for a moment before he fixed the issue and turned up the speed. 

     Listening to her whines as he came down from his high just to finally trigger hers. Watching her hips buck against him. Hyunjin managed to pull out of her and pull the toy away from her to take in the full show. Smiling as she came down, their mixture dripped out of her. 

     He turned off the toy and tossed it beside them on the bed. Finding the keys for the cuffs and unlinking them from the headboard. Turning the hero onto her stomach and lifting her hips up and sinking back into her. 

     “Jin,” Y/n whined

     “You’re okay darling. Gonna take care of you all night,” Hyunjin smirked and nipped at her ear.

     Hands grabbing her wrists and pinning her down to the pillows. “Gotta remind you that you’re mine.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 9

I know I keep saying this but I think I'm starting to wrap it up. By my current calculations I have about 3 more chapters to write (as always I have several chapters backlogged). That could go up of course, but that's the way it appears to be going at the moment.

In this chapter we have the first of their three "dates" and Eddie and Steve get personal.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Heads up for sexy times, I would tell you where, but it's intermixed with a lot of conversation. Sorry.

****

Steve had never been nervous before a roleplay before. Not even his very first one. Of course that had been the homemaker one, and he thrived on them originally.

He had worn the dress as requested, but changed up the accessories. He went for simple pearl earrings and necklace. Nothing on his wrists, they would only cause problems later.

He leaned up against the bar, nursing his drink as he scanned the crowd. The thing about rolyplays was that you didn’t know exactly when the client would show up, just a ballpark figure.

Robin was on hand this time to scare off any assholes who thought that an escort was fair game whether or not they were on the clock or not.

She had already headed off three of these douchebags already and was in the process of heading off a fourth when another one breezed past her to head straight for Steve.

She was about dump ice down this alpha’s dress if she didn’t get out of her way so she could get her omega, when the woman saw the fifth alpha trying to chat Steve up.

She threw her arms in the air and stormed off, cursing Robin in at least three different languages.

Robin turned her attention to Steve, but smiled at the scene instead. Eddie Munson had arrived and Steve and he were eviscerating the asshole alpha for horning in on their date.

So she moved to sit in a nearby booth to watch them.

****

Eddie bristled when he arrived to see that Robin was having a hard time fending off alphas trying to get to Steve.

God, Steve.

Eddie had thought the man was beautiful in the glamour of his own home, but here, under the soft lights of the hotel bar, he looked like a goddess and Eddie was down to worship.

He strolled right up and slipped his arm around Steve’s waist. “Hello, darlin’. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Steve’s omega immediately preened at the attention. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”

The other alpha was a forty year old man who looked like he had more money than sense.

Eddie looked him up and down. “Shoo.”

The man sneered. “You really think that someone like you could handle an omega like that? Don’t make me laugh.”

Steve rolled his eyes, tugging on his earring. “Well considering he paid for the privilege and you didn’t, I’d fuck off before I call security.”

The man pulled himself up to full height and was scenting rage, but before he could even make a move, Xander was towering behind the guy and Robin put her hand one his chest.

Steve had signaled her when he tugged on his left earring and both his handler and driver were there for there intercept before things got really ugly.

As Xander and hotel security hauled him out, he started screaming cuss words and calling Steve all sorts of names.

Eddie winced. “Not how I wanted to start our date, sweetheart.”

Steve rubbed his nose along Eddie’s scent gland. “I don’t know, I found it hot the way you swooped in for the rescue.”

Eddie smirked. “Did you now?”

Steve bit his lip and looked down to glance up at him through his eyelashes. “Of course you did, baby. I’m such a lucky omega.”

Eddie’s alpha growled low and deep and it forced its way out of his throat. “You’re looking pretty hot yourself, Stevie.” His hand slid to press on Steve’s lower back and pulled the omega flush against his chest. “What’s your pleasure?” He nodded to the glass still in Steve’s hand.

Steve dragged his hips side to side, rubbing their clothed cocks together, but before Eddie could do anything than moan, Steve stepped away from the alpha and asked for a bottle of their best whiskey to share.

Eddie sat down on the barstool next to him and they talked. With each passing moment as the alcohol hit his system, Steve was getting warmer. He could feel the heat between his legs. He crossed them to try and tame the desire that was pulsating through his very core.

Eddie licked his lips and his mouth went dry. He downed the rest of his glass and threw money on the bar top.

“Keep the change,” he growled, not even glancing to see how much he had dropped, but judging from Steve’s impressed expression it was probably a lot.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and they were off running for the elevators. Eddie pressed the up button and then pulled Steve close to kiss him deeply.

The elevator bell dinged and Steve pushed him away to dash into the open doors. Eddie gave chase and swung Steve around, bring him back to his orbit, barely hitting the right floor as he drank in Steve’s kisses.

Again the elevator bell dinged and the doors swung open again and they ran out, hand in hand.

Steve giggled as Eddie struggled to get the key card out of his pants and finally let them into the hotel suite.

Eddie got his hands under the slits in the dress, feeling up Steve’s thighs. “God, baby. I could eat you all up.”

Steve smiled but pushed back. He took a couple steps back, putting more distance between them. Once he was far enough back that Eddie would get the full effect, Steve reached up and undid the clasp on his dress.

And as described the dress flowed like a waterfall to ground.

Eddie gaped as he stood there in his just thong and shoes. “Fuck. That was even sexier than it was in my head.”

He got close enough to extend his hand to help Steve step away from the folds of the dress pooling at his ankles and right into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie kissed him like he was drowning and Steve was his salvation.

Steve was dizzy with want. There were a few alphas in his past that he had had crushes on or even developed feelings for, but they were nothing compared to the sheer want of being with Eddie.

“Yes, alpha,” he murmured. “Take what you want.”

Eddie let out a low growl that came from his chest and Steve’s omega fucking chirped back. But before the embarrassment could over take Steve for having broken through his professionalism again for this man, Eddie was sweeping Steve off his feet and carrying him bridal style to the bed.

Eddie carefully set him down and then made quick work of taking off Steve’s shoes. Now all he was wearing was his matching gold thong and looking up at Eddie with hooded eyes.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Eddie purred. “You look good enough to eat.”

Steve let out a delight laugh. “So you’ve said, so you gonna do something about it?”

Eddie licked the top row of his teeth, bring attention to sharp canine teeth that alphas were famous for. Gotta break the skin for that bond bite, you know?

Steve giggled hysterically and slapped a hand over his mouth. He blushed a dark red. A red that seemed to reach his nipples and the tips of his ears.

Eddie gently pulled his hand away from his mouth. “It’s alright to giggle, darlin’. It was cute.”

He kissed the inside of Steve’s wrist and suddenly the shame gave way to arousal. Steve moaned.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie whispered, “I want to hear every delicious sound you make.” He slid off the panties and tossed them to the side.

Steve threw back his head and nearly jack knifed off the bed, crying out in pleasure when Eddie buried his head right between Steve’s legs.

Steve thought for sure Eddie would go for his cock. Every alpha Steve had been with had. Steve was well endowed for even a beta. He could never measure up to an alpha cock, as they were massive by design to be able to form a knot, but Steve had nothing to scoff at.

But, no. Eddie went straight for Steve’s pussy, licking and sucking the folds of his omegahood.

“Eddie!” Steve cried. “Oh god! That feels so good.”

Eddie nipped gently on the inside of Steve’s thigh. “What’s the matter, gorgeous, no one eat you out before?”

Steve shook his head, biting down on his lip in humiliation.

Eddie’s head snapped up in shock. “Wait, really?”

“It’s my job to take care of the alpha,” Steve murmured, “no one’s taken care of me before.”

Eddie sat up and looked him right in the eye. “What do you do for your heats?”

Steve struggled to sit up and Eddie let him. He wrapped his arms around his knees. “We aren’t allowed to share them with alphas.” He cocked his head to the side. “Not normally anyway. Only the highest of the high elite know that heats can be bought through the agency, but they’re are deliberately prohibitively high.”

Eddie licked his lips as another piece of the puzzle that was this beautiful omega fell into place.

“Like how high are we talking about?”

Steve scratched his cheek. “Depends on the omega really.”

Eddie snorted. “I meant you specifically, sweetheart.”

“Well, last time someone asked it was quoted at five million,” he replied with a wince, “but that was a couple of years ago, it’s probably twice that now.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t have the money?” Eddie asked rubbing his chin.

Steve scoffed. “She and no, she didn’t. She protested so hotly that Starcourt banned her for life.”

“That’s a really short list to be on,” he said, whistling long and low. “That must have been one hell of a hornets’ nest she kicked.”

“You wouldn’t have heard anything about it,” Steve mumbled. “Starcourt takes the lives of their omegas very seriously. They were able to buy off the press and force her into fringe media to make her look hysterical. It went so far under the radar that most people don’t even remember her.”

Eddie tugged on Steve’s legs until he was stretched out on the bed again. “Change of track. I was going to give you the most mind blowing, heat searing sex imaginable, but now I’m going worship every inch of your skin like you should be.”

Steve covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, behind them he could hear Eddie undress. Then the bed sank with the weight of Eddie as peeled Steve’s hands away from his face.

“No hiding, baby,” he murmured into Steve’s ear. “I want to see all of you.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded. “Yes, alpha.”

“Good boy,” Eddie said softly against his lips before sealing them with a kiss.

It was gentle and warm and Steve absolutely melted with it. Eddie moved from his lips to his jaw to the two little moles just under his chin. He hovered over Steve’s scent gland.

“Can I scent you, Stevie?” he muttered, voice thick with want.

Steve’s hips canted up seeking friction. “Yes, Eds. Please!”

Eddie pulled his head up to look at him in the eyes. “Eds, huh? I like it.” He bent back over the scent gland and licked along its length, causing Steve to shiver.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie cooed. “Look at how responsive you are when someone takes care of you. You’re positively aching for it, aren’t you?”

Steve nodded. “Please, Eds, I need you.”

“And how could I possibly say no to such a pretty request.”

Eddie pulled off his clothes and slid on a condom, then proceeded to make the night about Steve’s pleasure. Working every inch of his body like he was playing guitar.

Steve isn’t even sure how many times he came that night, but he was damn sure it was a personal record.

As they laid in bed together afterwards, condom disposed of, Eddie asked, “How come you switch between my name and calling me alpha?”

Steve blushed deeply. “Technically I’m not supposed to use a client’s name when I’m on a job, just ‘alpha’.”

“To keep impersonal?” Eddie guessed, wrapping Steve up into his arms and pressing a kiss on his jaw.

Steve hummed. “Yeah, but you keep breaking through my professional exterior to my gooey center.”

Eddie chuckled, nosing Steve’s scent gland. “You won’t get into trouble, will you?”

“No,” Steve said, amusement coloring his tone, making it light and airy. “And if they do say something, I’ll just tell them that since I’m pretending to be your boyfriend for the next three months, I can’t go around calling you ‘alpha’. How weird would that be?”

Eddie just nodded. “When do you have to leave?”

Steve turned in his arms so that they faced each other. “Usually, I’d slip out once you’re asleep–”

“You do what now?!” Eddie squawked, outraged.

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s for our safety. Too often alphas will get possessive if we stay the night, thinking there was more to it than a simple transaction.”

“Oh.”

Eddie hadn’t thought about it that way. He was only thinking about how the alpha would feel. But that was meaningless. It didn’t matter how they felt, because as Steve pointed out, it was only a transaction.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a shrug. “But seeing as tonight was to set up us as ‘dating’ staying the night is kinda the point.”

“Sounds good, darlin’,” Eddie murmured, settling into fall asleep.

Steve watched as his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered close.

Now all he had to do is figure out how to prevent his heart from shattering into a billion pieces when they ‘broke up’ in three months.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13

[vorfreudevortex]

2. SHDW1

a street racer!ino takuma x f!reader fic

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 1 // next: chapter 3

warnings // 6k words - swearing, alcohol, smoking, reckless driving (duh), all characters in college or recently graduated, mount hakone's details are not accurate for the sake of the story so pls don't try to clown me for it, fighting and arguing, mentions of weapons, club scene, dancing/grinding bc it’s canon to me that ino is a fantastic dancer

✰ // the cars and the reader’s appearance in this fic are purposely kept ambiguous so you are free to have aspects look, feel, and be modified any way you’d like.

the vibes for chapter two

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

your body buzzes.

there was quite a crowd at the top of mount hakone. cars line the shoulder of the straight, all modified to hell and back. other teams, car fanatics, and random onlookers stood by; bumping music, smoking and drinking, and getting loose before the race started. it was mostly men, but gorgeous girls in their shortest skirts were mixed in, just wanting to have fun with expensive cars and free drinks on the weekend. you watched from afar as their music and chatter floated up into the stars.

“where the hell is this guy?” satoru whines. suguru's idling nsx is parked in the right lane of the road, just before the starting line. the five of you stand beside the warm motor, letting suguru and shoko's cigarette smoke waft through your hair. the guy who wanted to race your brother still hadn’t shown his face.

you and shoko had gotten ready for the race together, showing off your latest streetwear was always the thing to do at these events. you couldn’t help but don your tightest black corset, a leather skirt and knee-high platform boots. shoko had let you borrow a funky-patterned oversized jacket to wear when the dark mountain air got too cold, while she chose bright red jeans and a blue top.

the boys looked just as handsome. satoru wore loose jeans and a graphic tee, kento with tapered trousers, a linen button up and crisp sneakers, and suguru with an all black ensemble of cargo pants and a hoodie.

“he must’ve pussied out,” suguru says, crushing his finished cigarette into the crunchy gray asphalt.

“we’ll have to find a replacement if he doesn’t show,” kento grunts.

“it’s been 15 minutes, i don’t think he’s coming,” shoko rolls her eyes while smoke puffs out of her glossed lips.

getting bored, you lean dramatically into satoru's arm. “this suuucks! i just wanna see someone race.”

“well,” satoru giggles and ruffles your hair. “we can’t keep clutch waiting around. let’s find someone else.”

the five of you walk over to the shoulder, where the crowd is growing more anxious by the second. they look at your brother expectantly, and whispers of the man who bailed float around.

“looks like he’s not showing up,” suguru announces. “who wants to go?”

the crowd quiets to a murmur, everyone turning heads and waiting for someone to volunteer.

“i'll race you.”

you look up to see the black-haired boy from earlier today, the one that was next to ino. his face holds no expression and his hands are buried in his pockets. he looks like he couldn’t give less of a fuck. his stoic eyes and strong jaw reminds you of someone, but you can’t begin to place who.

“alright, fushiguro,” your brother nods. “let’s go.”

oh, fushiguro? you had no idea he had a son. no— he goes by zenin, right? you recall the exciting stories your dad would tell you as a kid of his past thrilling nights and rivalries. zenin was one of them; you had seen occasional glimpses of him in the garage during visits as a child. he was an absolutely terrifying man, with a prominent scar on his mouth from a bad wreck in his youth.

“two things before we start,” fushiguro says, and your brother pauses. you spot ino, and behind him the tattooed man and the pink-haired boy, as well as another guy with a bun in his hair. you make brief eye contact and your heart flutters, before tearing your attention back to your brother.

“first, i'm racing for pinks tonight,” fushiguro states, and a few whistles come from the onlookers. “and my dad’s here tonight. so no bullshit.” he gestures to his side, but you can’t spot his father in the crowd.

“there’s never bullshit,” suguru scoffs. “racing for pinks? fine. your r34 will cry in relief when i finally get behind the wheel of that thing.”

the jab doesn’t stick for you and your unfamiliarity of the shadows’ racing style, but the onlookers snicker as they know that fushiguro is a notoriously aggressive driver and runs through cars and tires faster than anyone here tonight. he doesn’t respond to your brother, but leaves to pull his car up to the starting line. suguru revs his engine to make sure its warmed up, it purrs and pulls in place.

satoru and kento send him off with handshakes and pats before heading to their own vehicles to different markers along the pass. there will be someone posted at each mile with a radio to update the listening crowd on the race, as well as warn the drivers and audience of any hazards or police as they make their way down the line. you stick your head through suguru's open window.

“drive safe, sugu,” you smile, pressing a small peck to his cheek.

“don’t worry ‘bout me, clutch,” he smiles, not a single nervous bone in his body. “when i get his r34, i'll let you have it.”

you and shoko stand off to the side as the flag girl settles between suguru and fushiguro’s cars, raising her arms. the paints glitter under the moonlight and stars, trembling over their hot engines as they start to burnout at the countdown, prepping their tires and getting them sticky. your heart starts to pound once more, the anticipation and stakes of the race are almost too much to handle. her arms fly downwards, and the race begins.

the two cars peel away from the line, the rubber screeching out and making your ears ring. you let out cheers and shouts alongside the crowd as your brother flies deep into the forest, motors screaming as they echo through the mountainside and disappear.

“phantoms start in the lead,” you hear the pager crackle and boom from a nearby stereo system.

the crowd fizzles a bit, most of them turning back to conversations and liquor bottles while the race fanatics gather closer to the stereo, you along with them.

“i’m gonna go catch up with some friends,” shoko says, motioning towards a group of rowdy girls across the road. “you wanna come with, or stay and listen to the race?”

“i’ll stay,” you respond. “but go on ahead! i’ll see you in a bit.”

you wave her off and take a seat on a rounded post that supported the road’s guardrail, just a few feet behind the crowd bunched around the stereo.

“mile 1, phantoms in the lead,” you hear kento’s voice over the speaker.

“hey!”

your head turns, eyes landing on ino. he stands before you with that same sweet smile.

“oh, hi!” you smile. “thanks again for the pictures, ino-san.”

“it’s no big deal, i’m glad you liked them.”

“so,” you shift in your seat. “you didn’t wanna race my brother tonight, huh?”

“not tonight. i’m still getting my baby tuned just right after some new tires. your brother isn’t easy to race, but i guess megumi wanted the smoke tonight,” he jokes.

“there’s no way suguru would give up his car so easily,” it’s your turn to tease again. “it’s a good thing he won’t lose.”

ino laughs, the handsome sound making the tips of your ears turn hot. “well, megumi won’t give up any easier. so i guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“mile 2, shadows in the lead,” and the listeners chatter at the update.

“you know, for someone who’s never passed through mount hakone, you had a pretty quick time this morning,” he steps closer to you. “your brother must’ve taught you well.”

“he keeps me calm,” you nod. “but my time wasn’t that impressive. i think i've just had some good practice swinging around intersections back home.”

“mile 3, phantoms in the lead,” the speaker crackles again. you glance up at ino after the announcement and he sheepishly smiles.

“looks like it’s gonna be a close one,” he shrugs. “well, no matter the outcome… uh—”

he clears his throat. “—we're all gonna hang out at the underground after the race. you should come!”

“the underground?”

“it’s a club in shibuya we usually go to. it’ll just be my boys and a few other close friends meeting up there.” the dim floodlights fail to hide the light shade of pink that tinges ino’s cheeks. your stomach flips at his offer, heart pounding. your fingers twitch.

“oh, i don’t think my brother would like that very much,” you giggle nervously, your own cheeks turning red. “but thanks so much for inviting me!”

“no worries… i better leave you alone before someone rats me out,” he grins. “uh, text me, yeah?”

“mile 4, shadows in the lead.”

you politely nod. “see you around!”

“for sure,” ino takes two steps away from you before he turns back around. “by the way, you look beautiful tonight, y/n.”

he’s gone before you can even process it.

✰✰✰✰✰

takuma ino has great timing, because no less than 5 minutes after he disappears, you spot satoru’s and kento’s tall mess of light hairs bobbing through the crowd. they’ve done their jobs and have made their way back up the mountain to wait for suguru to cross the line once more. blue eyes meet yours and he waves with a smile as he guides kento to you.

“suguru’s got this one in the bag,” he reassures, patting your head like a dog.

“ugh, don’t do that, toru!”

“why?” he brings his face closer to yours. “tryna look pretty for someone, hm?”

“quit, satoru,” kento huffs.

“no,” you reply. “most girls don’t like when their hair gets fucked up after spending so long on it. you should know that better than anyone.”

satoru feigns a gasp, as if he doesn’t see a different girl every weekend. “are you calling me a slut?”

“well i’m not saying you’re a virgin.”

“jesus, stop it,” kento says.

“mile 7, shadows in the lead.”

“they’ve been going back and forth all night,” you point out over the chatter. “suguru will be upset if he has to give up his keys to that boy.”

“he’d kill someone before allowing that to happen,” kento reassures, but it doesn’t sound comforting to you. 

suguru is one of the most relaxed people you know, even his angry words aren’t loud. but he has a kill switch, and there’s nothing scarier than your brother when his temper is lost. you’ve only experienced it twice before, but each incident had left your younger self frozen in fear when his voice and hands would finally raise towards someone. suguru doesn’t fight often, but when he does, his hard fists always land.

“toru, is this fushiguro from the same family as papa’s friend?” you ask. you start to hear the racing motors tearing through the pass, creeping closer and closer. “i thought he went by zenin before.”

“it’s his kid,” he nods, propping a cigarette between his lips. “your papa used to race with him, but he got married and had a kid so his wife made him stop.”

“he took his wife’s last name,” kento adds, the explanation allows the floating information to click together inside your brain. satoru digs in his pockets.

he hands satoru a lighter. kento hates that all of his friends smoke, but gave up trying to convince them to quit a long time ago. you suspect he keeps a lighter in his pocket for when they forget one.

“mile 8, shadows still in the lead.”

“fuck, let’s go,” satoru grabs your arm as he realizes the two are in the last 1/2 mile stretch of the race. kento follows close behind as you’re pulled through an anxious crowd towards the finish line. your blood runs hot as you see the headlights of the cars come around the corner, piercing the mountain’s darkness like a knife.

you recognize suguru’s headlights as the ones in front as they continue to fight for control of the road. you sigh in relief. the cars are a blur as they fly over the finish line, suguru only a few feet ahead of fushiguro. you don’t think much of how close the race was, the crowd cheers and you go pushing between satoru and kento to run towards your brother, stomach twirling in excitement. a few others do the same as the boys slam on their brakes, sending their cars swinging sideways to skid into an abrupt stop haphazardly in the middle of the road.

suguru leaps out of his seat and slams the door behind him, hard. 

oh?

“what the FUCK?!”

you slow your jog as your eyes widen, barely recognizing his roaring voice as cuts into the air. megumi exits his car as well, planting his feet on the warm concrete with tense shoulders and furrowed brows. suguru rushes over to the boy, sweat dripping down his temple from the adrenaline of the pass with fists clenched. you can see the white of his knuckles. his dark hair, which he had pulled into a neat bun, was now a loose and frizzy mess. you come to a stop with heavy breathe, no more than 10 feet away from them.

“you tryna fucking kill me, fushiguro?!”

“shut the fuck up, geto!”

“don’t fucking play with me right now!”

a hand clamps down on your shoulder, jolting you back. you look up and see satoru, his blue eyes wild and serious. your gaze drops down to where his hand rests on the front of his waistband, allowing a rectangular form to be seen through his shirt. 

whoa. since when did satoru own a gun?

“y/n. stay. back.”

you barely hear his snappy command over your racing thoughts. you’re stuck to the concrete, feet unable to move. satoru runs over to suguru and suddenly kento is there as well, latching onto suguru’s shirt with a tight grip. ino appears with the black-haired guy with face tattoos and the broad-shouldered man-bun behind him, all of them hot in the face.

“why the fuck are you driving like that, huh?!” your brother screams, pulling closer and closer to fushiguro. you can only watch the ugly scene in front of you as your stomach flips over on itself. suguru doesn't talk like this to anyone for anything, you know he's teetering over the edge of going absolutely ballistic. “just say you want me dead, just say it, pussy!”

“fuck you!” fushiguro yells back. “it doesn't matter anymore, you won. just take my damn car!”

“i don’t want your fuckass car!”

“suguru, calm down,” kento demands harshly.

“get back, geto,” ino steps in. “this is fucking stupid.”

those were not the right words to say as all the boys are face to face, and suguru lunges towards him. satoru pulls your brother back again before stepping in front of him, the man with a bun shoves into his shoulder. satoru’s pointer finger reaches over and digs into takuma’s chest.

“you don’t want this shit, ino” he hisses into ino’s face. “just leave.”

“i’m not scared of you guys,” takuma asserts, grabbing satoru hand and snatching it away from himself.

“teach your boy some fucking respect,” suguru spits. “he claimed ‘no bullshit’ but you didn’t see the way he was pushing me around back there.”

“i wanted to race, so i raced, dickhead,” fushiguro retorts.

“only your dumbass would call that racing.”

a large, calloused hand comes to rest on your nape, sending chills down your spine.

“geto.”

you aren’t sure if the deep, gruff voice is referring to you or your brother. the boys whip their heads around. when you look up at the sound, you recognize him immediately. toji fushiguro looks down at you from his towering stance, a sly smirk on his scarred lips. his messy, flat black hair casts a shadow over his eyes, making his gaze more menacing.

“please don’t touch me,” your meek voice finally finds words, barely above a whisper. although toji fushiguro’s touch is light, your instinct tells you to step away and your body moves on its own, the man lets his hand fall. it’s been years since you’ve seen this him, but he hasn’t changed other than some added wrinkles. he still exudes an intimidating aura. you can’t believe your papa drinks with this man, let alone allows him into your home.

“y/n,” suguru’s calls, tearing your attention back to him. you must look scared, because his voice is slightly calmer, gentler, than how he was speaking before. “get in the car.”

damn it, you can’t help but know you look weak in front of all these people. your mind is a whirlwind; from suguru’s anger, to satoru’s gun, and now toji fushiguro’s touch. the tips of your fingers twitch as you stare at suguru, frozen. an irritated vein stands out on his sweating forehead. you see ino over his shoulder, but you can’t read his face. you can’t tell what he’s thinking but his eyes are filled with confusion and concern. the younger fushiguro’s face also expresses worry, but his mouth stays shut.

“aw, how sweet of you,” fushiguro mocks your brother. “guess you don’t want your sweet little innocent sister seeing this ugly side of you, huh?”

why the hell is he dragging you into this?

“clutch, i’m not fucking around right now,” suguru obviously strains to keep his voice down for you. “get in kento’s car. now.”

something in your brain suddenly sparks, and you’re immediately turning around and rushing across the road and shoulder to kento’s car. your mind thinks of everything but nothing at the same time, tension reverberating from your body with each step on the concrete. you swing the door of kento’s s13 open as you practically dive into his passenger seat and slam it shut behind you.

as soon as it latches, you hear muffled shouting from several voices. you lean over, arms wrapping around your thighs and forehead resting on your knees, afraid of what you might see if you look out the windshield. you can feel you heart in your throat as you heave, your breathe hard to find in the wild confusion of the night.

the driver’s door flies open and you whip your head. kento immediately turns the motor and puts it in gear.

“i’m taking you home,” he exhales. you can tell he’s bewildered as well, his neat hair coming undone over his eyes and knuckles white over the gear shifter. when you lift you head to look out the window as he pulls away, you see a shadowy silhouette of a tall man standing on the hill behind the line of onlookers’ cars. you think you see a motorbike next to him, but he’s barely visible through the hazy fog of the mountain. it’s odd, to say the least, but not important at the moment. 

you keep quiet. you don’t think it’s worth mentioning.

✰✰✰✰✰

the way home is completely silent aside from the hum of the engine. kento drives you home quickly but safely, his rigidity slowly fading away with each push and pull of the gear shifter. but you haven’t stopped thinking— goddamnit, how you wish your brain would stop thinking. your knee bounces uncontrollably as you suck in a breathe.

“kento?” he hums and glances over to you. “how long has satoru owned a gun?”

he doesn’t speak at first and presses his lips into a tight, thin line.

“a while now,” he finally answers.

“do you have one, too?”

“no.”

“and suguru?”

kento pauses for half a second too long. 

“oh my god— how long has he had one?”

“longer than satoru,” it seems like answering these questions is causing him pain.

“are you lying to me?” your voice is small.

“never.”

it’s your turn to hesitate. you were used to seeing people carry weapons in the car scene back home, where it was so easy to get a hold of one. but to be across the world in a country where only gangs and criminals possessed them, just to find out that your brother and his best friend owned one…

it shocked you. although your mother owned a pistol back home, and you fully knew how to use it, it made you uncomfortable to think your own brother got a hold of one illegally. suguru has always been your safety blanket, the one to call when things went wrong, the one to comfort you. and satoru, the one who always had a watchful eye on the back of your head, the one who you’d always run to if suguru wasn’t there. what are they thinking?

kento parks in front of your house, but you still have one more burning question.

“have they ever… used them before?”

“i don’t think so,” he replies.

“that was supposed to be a yes or no question.”

“i can’t give you that,” he looks… sad?

fine, then. without another word, you slip out of the car and walk inside your home. kento follows right behind you, all the way up the stairs to your room. he pauses at the door, one hand on the knob, as you slump into bed. he seems to know exactly what you’re thinking even though you’re turned away.

“i’m sure your brother is fine.”

“okay,” you croak, eyes burning with tears. tonight was just so… confusing. you could barely wrap your mind around what happened and most importantly, why?

“please try not to worry and get some sleep,” he replies, his voice gentle and solid. “i’ll let him know that you’re home and safe now.”

you hear him shut your bedroom door and pad down the stairs. when he locks the front door after him, you once again hear your papa’s snoring. only then do you let the tears fall, hot and heavy, but suddenly they’re angry tears. you kick off your boots and shove your face into the pillows, you fists trembling with irritation around the fabric.

how could suguru be so... stupid?

✰✰✰✰✰

shadow.takuma: hey are u ok?

shadow.takuma: are u home now??

you snatch up your phone at the notifications. you’ve calmed down now, but the fact that takuma is checking in on your before your own brother is sending hot blood through your veins once again.

clutchcruises: i’m home and i’m totally fine. are you okay?

shadow.takuma: yeah i’m ok!

shadow.takuma: i’m so sorry about megumi’s dad. i didn’t know he was gonna do that

shadow.takuma: and i'm sorry about how i was talking to ur brother

shadow.takuma: it was all really out of pocket

oh? that’s not really the explanation you were expecting.

clutchcruises: it’s okay. don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything!

shadow.takuma: no pls i feel awful. i feel like he really scared u

shadow.takuma: i think he just did it to get ur brother worked up

clutchcruises: he knew it would bc he knows my dad

clutchcruises: i remember him from when i was a kid

shadow.takuma: seriously??

shadow.takuma: that makes it worse… i’m so so sorry

clutchcruises: seriously, it’s alright! i’m over it now

you were totally not over it.

shadow.takuma: ok… well i get it if ur not up for it but i’ll still be at the underground tonight

shadow.takuma: just in case u decide to come!

clutchcruises: it really sounds fun, i’ve never been out in tokyo before

clutchcruises: i just don’t think it’s a good idea rn, i’m sorry

shadow.takuma: don’t be sorry :) i totally get it

shadow.takuma: text me if u change ur mind?

as soon as you like his last message, suguru’s name takes over your phone screen. you sit up in bed and answer the call.

“suguru.”

“y/n? ken told me you’re safe at home?” he sounds stressed.

“yeah.”

“are you okay?”

“i’m... a lot of things right now,” you admit solemnly. the frustrated tears reappear in your eyes but never fall. “are you?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you hear the crackles as he adjusts his phone. “i’m so sorry. i’m fucking embarrassed.”

you stay silent, biting down on your lip. you don’t know how to respond.

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he continues. “i totally lost my temper. and when fushiguro came over, i knew i was about to completely lose it. i can’t believe he put his hands on you, i just—”

“—suguru,” you cut him off and he quiets. “why didn’t you tell me that you and satoru carried guns?”

he pauses. “i just didn’t think you needed to know.”

“where did you even fucking get them?!” you rarely got mad at suguru, but you couldn’t help but snap at him.

“you don’t need to know that either.”

“why not? don’t i deserve to know?”

another pause. “…no.”

you take a deep breathe. “when will you be home?”

“in a while. can we talk then, if you’re still up?”

“i’m still a little upset with you, suguru.” you bite your lip. “can we just wait until the morning?”

“yeah, i guess. get some sleep, okay?”

“suguru?”

“yeah?”

“…i’m going out tonight.”

“...with who?”

“some girls i made friends with tonight.”

you feel him hesitate through the phone. the phone crackles again as he fumbles with it. you wish you could see what he was doing, but a part of you doesn’t even want to know.

“...be safe and smart, please... call me if you need anything. and text me when you’re on the way home.”

“i will.”

“thank you.”

“love you, nii-chan.”

“love you too, clutch.”

✰✰✰✰✰

clutchcruises: otw

you have no idea what you’re doing, honestly. the words just came out of your mouth on the phone with suguru. sure, you wanted to meet up with takuma, but you weren’t actually planning on coming. and after all the bullshit that’s happened tonight, a drink sounds so good. you admit to yourself that you also just wanted to do something rebellious towards your brother after pissing you off.

your fingers thrum against the gear shifter as your mustang purrs through the bright streets of tokyo. you had stripped out of your corset and skirt into backless, dark green halter dress before fussing with your hair. you had never pulled on your platform combat boots so fast in your life. you kneaded your glossed lips together, anxious to death over walking into a club on your own. you were really going to hang out with a boy you’ve had one face-to-face conversation with, and for what? 

the plot? what plot?

after parking, you walked silently alongside scattered and rowdy strangers through the street of shibuya, eyeing your phone desperately. takuma still hasn’t responded to your message. good lord, what are you doing? what will your excuse be when suguru finds out?

you find yourself at the back of the line into the underground far too quickly for your liking. you can hear the pounding bass of the music from outside, echoing through your bones. the girls in front of you wear skirts so short and heels so high that you’re really starting to doubt yourself now. why are you here? the bouncer probably won’t even let you in once he sees the beautiful girls before you—

“y/n!”

you look up, meeting eyes with takuma. he gently wraps his hand around yours.

“you don’t need to wait,” he smiles. “i know the guy who runs this place. c’mon!”

he pulls you out of line and towards the door, where the bouncer doesn’t even look twice as you walk past. takuma leads you down a set of dark stairs, still holding you hand. your eyes widen when you reach the bottom. a huge room opens before you, neon lights and lasers scanning over the cramped crowd and huge speakers lining the ceiling, vibrating with every beat of the catchy song playing. 

the walls are lined with couples messily smacking faces while the dj booth stands in the center of the room with a circular bar surrounding it entirely. it’s one ginormous hub of drinking and dancing while booths and tables make small bubbles of calm as they’re scattered sparsely throughout the bodies.

just before you’re consumed by the crowd, takuma turns and puts a warm palm on the small of your bare back. he leans in, his hot and liquored breathe in your ear. your stomach flips and it feels like your body temperature raises about 20 degrees.

“the shadows have a booth by the bar,” he says. “if you want to drink tonight, we’ve got it all.”

you nod, hoping the neon lasers disguise your bright red cheeks. he grins and takes your hand once again, leading you into the sea of people. it’s completely packed, and you can’t help but be pushed around between drunks. thankfully, takuma never loses his hold on you, even when you harshly bump into a tall, stiff body.

“sorry!” you shout at them over the music.

the person looks down at you with a glare, leaving you cowering. it’s a rough-looking man about suguru’s age who grips a beer and wears a skin tight black shirt and jeans. he has light-colored hair, but you can’t exactly tell what color through the rainbow of lights over you. what you can see, however, is the absolutely horrifying tattoos that cover his face and arms. sharp, black lines blanket his nose, forehead, and jawline. thick bands wrap around his biceps and wrists.

as takuma pulls you away, the man gives you a sly smirk. he stands completely still among the constant movement around him. his dark eyes make direct, excruciating contact with yours until you disappear. you aren’t given any more time to dwell on his odd behavior as takuma leads you into the shadows’ wide, round booth.

the table is sticky with liquor and littered with cigarette butts and empty bottles. megumi and the pink-haired boy are standing and pouring shots, while man-bun and space-buns sit back in the booth, both with girls on their laps and wrapped around their necks. a couple other guys are here, but you don’t recognize them. the four that you do know, however, look up at you with wide eyes.

“uh, takuma?” fushiguro asks.

“what the hell?” man-bun says from his seat. the pink-haired and tattooed boys stay quiet.

“megumi!” takuma smiles at him and puts a hand on the small of your back once again. “this is y/n!”

“i know…” he responds, hesitant. “you— i didn’t think—”

“it’s okay, fushiguro-kun!” you smile with a shrug. “don’t worry about it!”

“i—” he stops and puts his hand to his chest before bowing sheepishly. it seems out of character for him, and you think he might already be drunk by the way he unsteadily sways. “i’m so sorry about me and my dad earlier.”

you wave him off. “seriously, it’s alright!”

“oh wait, that’s the girl?” pink-hair says, obviously very slow to understand. his glazed eyes tell you he’s been drinking for a while.

“a shot or two might make up for it all,” you tease.

“i’m yuji itadori!” he points to space-buns and tattoos first, then the man-bun. “and that’s choso kamo and aoi todo.”

megumi grabs a different bottle. “i hope you like vodka.”

“and i hope you like menthol.” yuji holds a thin white cigarette and lighter out to you, which you accept immediately.

“pour me one too, megumi!” takuma grabs your shoulders. “we gotta celebrate!”

“celebrate what?” you ask. his face is right next to yours as he leans over your shoulder. you can’t peel your eyes away from his glittering brown eyes and toothy smile. he shrugs.

“you’re came. what’s not to celebrate?”

✰✰✰✰✰

once again, your actions are beyond yourself. you didn’t plan to actually come out, but here you were in the underground. you didn’t plan to drink, but here you are with your 3rd drink in your hand after 3 shots, teetering over the line from tipsy to drunk. you didn’t plan on things to go so smoothly, but here you are sitting back in the booth after an hour of nonstop conversation beside takuma. his hand never left you the entire time, either around your hand or on your back while the other held a drink.

but you definitely didn’t plan to blurt out a question you already knew the answer to.

“do you like to dance, takuma?” you immediately regret asking, you just know he’s going to reject you.

“i thought you’d never ask,” he laughs. “i love dancing.”

takuma quickly stands up and pulls you out of the booth. he leads you deeper into the crowd until he finds enough space for the two of you to move. takuma pulls you into his side by the waist, then hesitates and loosens his hold.

“i’m sorry,” he says submissively. “i’m drunk.”

“don’t worry,” you giggle in his ear. “me too.”

takuma turns his face into yours. he looks at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. your noses are just inches away from each other. your sweet vanilla perfume is making him dizzy. you don’t know his stomach is fluttering wildly with butterflies. he doesn’t know yours is too.

the dj transitions into the next song. it’s a mix but you instantly recognize the beat. you gasp.

“oh my god, i love this song!”

takuma smiles. “i’ve never heard this.”

“that’s cause it’s only for the girls.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and his hands come to rest on your waist. now that you’ve stood up and under the strobing lights, you realize you’re much drunker than you thought you were, but can’t find the effort the care anymore. takuma has had his eyes and hands on nothing but you since you got here, but you still want more.

“dance with me, kuma,” you find your intoxicated voice murmuring in his ear as you smile and start swaying your hips. his head spins while his fingertips lightly dig into your sides at your words. takuma swears he’ll never let go. he moves in sync with you to the beat, a permanent grin etched across his face.

he simply can’t believe the situation he’s in right now. the only coherent thought in his liquor-filled head is you. with your silky hair fluttering over his skin and his large hands over the curves of your hips and waist, separated only by the satin of your green dress… someone help him. his brain does backflips every time he’s made contact with the exposed skin of your back. your cheeks are pink from the shots and your glossed lips are puffy from being pursed around a straw or cigarette all night. he just can’t look away.

at first, all takuma wanted was a good look at you, your undeniable innocent beauty was like a magnet he couldn’t escape from. so how did he manage to get you here tonight, drunk and giggly with your body pressed flush against his? god, suguru would beat his ass on sight if he could see where takuma had his hands on you right now.

“you’re a good dancer, takuma.”

“am i?” he twirls the both of you around, evoking a sweet squeal from you before pulling you tighter against him to lean down and whisper in your ear. “what happened to ‘kuma’?”

your face turns red with embarrassment. you wrap your hand around his jaw and turn it away from your burning ear, a finger lingering on his bottom lip. takuma playfully bares his teeth and lightly bites the end of your nail, making your eyes widen before pulling your hand away with a small yelp. he just laughs, he has no idea what he’s doing. the song ends and transitions to another.

“another song?” takuma asks. 

god, he hopes you say yes.

“duh!” you laugh. he spins you so your back is against his chest.

“good, i don’t want you to leave me just yet.”

✰✰✰✰✰

you don’t know how long you and takuma danced for. it seemed like only 5 minutes, but it must’ve been another hour. your feet start to hurt and the liquor is setting in, making you dizzy.

“you okay, pretty girl?” takuma asks, the new nickname tumbling out of his mouth before he knows it. you nod in response. he doesn’t miss your lidded eyes staring at his lips instead of his eyes. 

“you tired?” 

“no,” you shake your head. “but i know i should go home soon.”

he has you facing him again, holding you close. your hand finds takuma’s nape and your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair, sending goosebumps down his back. disappointed by your words, he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“i don’t want you to go,” he admits.

“me neither.”

your noses bump. takuma’s stomach drops. you sigh. he thinks and thinks, then thinks against it. seconds go by…

“you’re so beautiful.” he mumbles. you giggle shyly in response.

nah, fuck it.

“y/n…” his breathe is hot against your lips. “…can i kiss you?”

“yes, please.”

he reaches up, lightly cupping the side of your face. he’s gentle as your mouths connect, moving his lips against yours so soft and slow. he feels you melt into him, and he deepens the kiss. he lets his lips move in sync with yours, the sweet taste of your lip gloss sending searing waves of need down his stomach every time he catches a hint of it.

oh god, he’s practically floating.

you’ve been driving him insane all night, singing to all the songs in his ear and breathing softly on his neck. and even through the most passionate kiss he’s had in his life, his shitfaced brain understands completely that he’s utterly infatuated with you.

takuma slowly, reluctantly pulls away. it leaves both of you panting while your noses continue to poke and prod as he holds your jaw. your cheeks are bright red, and you know it’s not from the alcohol this time. you’re suddenly hypersensitive of his gentle hands against your cheek and the bottom of your back. your stomach feels light and jittery.

you don’t know what to think, incapable of processing anything coherently after takuma kissed you like that. in the few silent seconds after, you must replay it in your mind a hundred times over. you’ve never felt like this before.

nothing else settles in your mind, only takuma ino… but the one thing you seem to be able to comprehend in your empty little head right now rests over you like a warm blanket—

it’s so over for you.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ ｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

redline masterlist // previous: chapter 1 // next: chapter 3

tag list // @stillnotherapy @rieamena @magiamad0ka

comment if you'd like to be added.

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 16 🍒

"The Mother Wound"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,882

Summary: When your mom comes to town for a surprise visit, she reveals everything she know about your romance with Joel, and discloses some secrets of her own.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), set in summer 2003, reader wears a dress, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, fluff, slut shaming (wrongful, obviously), physical abuse (a slap), language!, accusations of grooming, protective!Joel, your awful mom being awful and telling a horrendous lie, angst, breakup as in "I need time to think", no use of y/n, if I've l left any out please let me know!

Author's Note: the whole "daddy" thing from Chapter 14 is finally put to rest. I wouldn't do that to y'all, this is not Literotica. If I can think of any other notes I'll add them later as it's 1 a.m. and I need to get some sleep.

Series Masterlist

Can't see you tonight, babygirl. Working late over on Sage Street

You look over the text Joel sent you just an hour ago, and make sure the street is the correct one as the signs are hard to read in the darkness of the late night. But there are only a couple houses being constructed among the empty lots, golden beams of wood forging the bones of the unfinished brand new homes. Joel's truck is parked right outside the first one you see.

He's hunched over a table beneath a portable LED light, overlooking layout plans, a small radio nearby playing a song with a guitar riff that's familiar to you.. Sunshine of Your Love..

There's a surge of feminine power within you as you approach him in your flowered sundress. Joel's double take is priceless. He doesn't ask what you're doing there. To be quite honest he doesn't care about anything except getting that dress off you.

It's like a scene from a movie the way he scoops you in his arms, whispering things like "shouldn't be out this late by yourself" and lays you down on a pallet of bricks covered in a plastic sheet. He removes his white shirt, scented of his sweat and natural odor, and lays it under you for cushioning before getting to his knees and spreading your thighs apart.

"Been thinkin' about this pretty lil' pussy all day," he grumbles. You take his hard hat off and put it on yourself, lifting yourself on your elbows so you can watch him.

He tears the thin fabric of your panties, watching your puffy pussy lips appear, slick with want. Your scent reaches him and he can't hold back, diving in to taste you.

"Joel!" you gasp, your hips jolting as his mouth makes contact with your drenched cunt, ever sensitive to his touch. You let yourself get lost in the sweet sensations, sighing, calling out his name.

"God, you taste so good, babygirl," he moans against you, his thumbs spreading you open as his tongue delves into your heat, flicks over your clit. "Sweet like candy.."

Over and over his tongue laps at you, devouring you, his hands pulling down the front of your dress and cupping the sweet mounds of your breasts. He makes coming so easy, as if your body was made for the kind of attention he lavishes upon it.

You come quickly and he lifts you up, clasping your thighs around him, your sticky wetness rubbing against his belly, his own jeans unbuttoned, and moves you to a more discreet place, where you're hidden by the wall sheathing. He hastily removes himself from his boxers and aligns himself to your slit, carefully placing you over him, watching the way your eyes flutter closed as he slides into you.

He fucks you standing, legs hooked over his arms as you kiss him, swallowing up each other's moans and sighs. The summer night humidity and the laboring of your bodies soon have you both sweaty, slippery against one another. He drives into you relentlessly, slowing down only when he worries he'll come too fast, wanting your pleasure before his.

Impaling yourself on him, not a single coherent thought crosses your brain except pursuing your release, the stickiness of your combined sweat, the way his balls smack against your ass, how drenched you are for him, feeling like you can barely withstand to take all of him as he takes control, pressing you down on his dick like it's the last fuck you'll ever have.

You come undone as his tip just brushes your cervix, little bit of pain in the pleasure he's wrenching from you, feeling him spill inside, so much of it that you're already leaking before he withdraws, laying you down on a makeshift blanket of your clothes and his.

"I never wanna stop explorin' you," Joel says, lips brushing your neck, traveling down the slope of your shoulder as you relax in his arms. "I could spend the rest of my life explorin' you and I would still have so much to discover about you, baby."

You've never really been comfortable in your own skin, but watching him adore you gives you a different perspective. "Which parts do you like best?" you ask him.

"Your curves, your face, your eyes. I'm not sure if I can put into words how beautiful you actually are.."

You run your hands along his smooth, large muscles, giving them a gentle squeeze. "There's nothing on you I don't like either."

"So what do you like the most?" he asks with a lustful grin, enjoying your touch.

You grin back. "These of course." your fingertips graze his biceps. "And these." you kiss his lips. "But if I'm being very greedy, I think I like this the most." You reach down and gently stroke his already-hard length.

"I like you bein' greedy," he mutters, eyes closed as he savors your touch.

You feel him come alive in your hand and you feel powerful.

He slides into you, still wet, still sensitive from before, and he takes his time. Slow, but far from delicate. His beard scratches roughly at your skin as he gently grazes his teeth on your tender throat, moving deeply, intoxicated by the scent and taste of you.

When you come it's sweet, lingering, like the prolonged vibration of a note softly played upon a violin.

Joel comes softly and you revel in the warmth of his release, feel him fill you, empty his soul into yours.

"You're good, baby. My god.."

You run your hands across his chest. "I want to be good to you and good for you."

"You're mine and I'm yours," he kisses you again. "I don't ever wanna be without you." Kiss. "And I don't ever wanna stop makin' love to you." Kiss. "And I don't ever want this to end." He gently lays his head on your chest.

"Promise me it's always gonna be this good for us," you whisper.

He smiles warmly. "I promise you, it'll always be this good."

"Morning, hottie," you mumble, smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

Somehow last night you both managed to untangle yourselves long enough to get back to your place, falling asleep in each other's arms immediately.

"Really good, actually," he says, stretching, hair mussed and eyes barely open. "What time is it?" He checks his watch, eyes wide as he realizes he's running late for work. "I gotta go, already late." He scoots out of bed and starts to get dressed. "I'll text you later, all right?" He gives you one last kiss. "Sorry for cuttin' our mornin' short."

"I understand," you murmur, missing the press of his lips and the heat of his body next to yours. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you," he says, smiling as he gets his shirt over his head.

"I love you more.."

"Impossible," he gives you a grumpy look.

"Joel Miller, my heart melts with love for you. I crave you with each breath I take, you rock my fucking world, et cetera, et cetera," you say theatrically, giggling as he comes to you again, his broad, strong body covering yours in the bed.

"Save some of those sweet words for tonight, okay?" He kisses the tip of your nose. "Now I gotta get going."

"Miss you already," you chuckle. Wearing only a sheet, you follow him to your front door, give him another quick kiss, watch him get in his truck and leave.

You're so busy watching him drive away and turn at the end of the street, that you see too late your mother's car pulling up to the driveway, followed closely by Sofia.

"Put some clothes on!" your mother scolds before she's even fully out of the car. "Who was that leaving the house?"

You freeze. Nothing had prepared you for your mother's visit. She would have hounded you about it for days beforehand, but now she's here, like a storm cloud on a beautiful day.

"Answer me," Anita says. "Was that Joel Miller leaving here so early?"

All speech has left you. In a flash of anger you glare at your cousin, who shakes her head, hand on her chest. Not me, she's mouthing.

Your mom has already put two and two together. She's no fool, she played this game when she was your age. She had this man when she was your age.

"My daughter's a slut!" she wails.

"Get inside!" Sofia hisses to both of you as she sees the neighbors start to come out and see the hullaballoo.

"Get dressed. Don't shower. I'm taking you to the hospital for a rape kit," Anita says.

"Mom, are you fucking kidding me? I wasn't raped!"

Sofia insists, "Go shower," softly as she tries to appease both of you. "You shouldn't be talking to your mom like this," she whispers. At first you think she's referring to your tone of voice, but then you realize you're naked save a bedsheet, likely still smelling of sex.

"You're taking a pregnancy test," Anita announces.

"I'm not pregnant! What is wrong with you? Why are you here??"

Anita turns to your cousin. "Please leave us to talk."

Sofia stands her ground. "This is my house, auntie. I'm staying."

Your mom grumbles, giving your cousin a hard look. "You let this happen under your roof? What would your parents say if they knew? They'd be disappointed in your lack of morals."

"I don't agree with what they're doing," Sofia says. "But they're both adults, and-"

"You can't keep seeing him," your mother ignores her, turning to you. "You know that, right? It's inappropriate. He's twice your age. He should have more sense."

You never thought you'd have to prepare for this conversation. You never imagined you'd be in this spot, caught red-handed, being sinful with the first ounce of freedom you've been given.

"You don't understand, Mom.." you tell her. "I love him."

The slap registers only after it's happened, your cheek red hot, head on a swivel. Sofia gasps, steps forward to get Anita away from you as you press your own hand to your cheek, feel it already burning.

Joel thinks it's odd when you don't answer his texts, but he pays it little mind. You weren't upset when he left that morning. Then he starts to think you might be hurt. Maybe you fell and hit your head. What if you're unconscious and there's no one there to call 911?

Just when he's about to go stir crazy, his phone dings with a message from you:

don't come to the house tonight. my mom is in town. think someone told her about us. talk later, ok? love you

"Damn!" Joel nearly throws his phone into the street, the need to throttle something or someone is getting stronger. He never expected to have to see Anita again, hasn't seen her in almost twenty years and likes it that way.

You wait for a response to your text, but your phone remains silent. Frowning, you sigh deeply and start on your shower. You think on the many nights Joel has had you in here, pinned to the wall, or on your knees as you went down on him.. there were tender moments too, when he washed and scrubbed your hair for you, assuring you that he loved you the way you are, that there's nothing about you he could ever dislike.

Freshly showered, you change into your typical shirt and jeans, black Converse sneakers on, ready to leave at a moment's notice. But not with her. Not with your mom.

Unfortunately you take too much time preparing for the worst that only too late do you look out the window, realizing Joel's home. You rush out to meet him but your mom has already beat you to it. Sofia holds you back.

"Leave it be," she pleads. "If he loves you he'll come here, and he'll fight for you."

"I hope not literally," you mumble, watching the interaction between your mom and Joel from the safety of the living room window.

It's as if Anita has a radar for Joel. As soon as he's parked in his driveway she marches up. "How dare you? How dare you?" she screams.

He takes a deep breath in and out, taking a moment to calm himself before exiting the vehicle. "How've you been, Anita?" he asks calmly in an attempt to deescalate the situation.

She takes a good look at him as he gets out of the car. Joel Miller all grown up. "I've been better. You haven't changed in twenty years."

"Neither have you, still cornerin' me the minute I'm leavin' my truck. What brings you by?" His words are friendly, his tone is not.

"You screwing my innocent daughter is what 'brings me by'!"

"Jesus, Anita, you really don't mince words do ya? I'm not 'screwing' her."

"That's not what I heard." She puts her hands on her hips, her stance hostile.

"Well what did you hear? And who'd you hear it from? Hmm?"

"I don't need to tell you that. But you are to stay away from my daughter, do you hear me?"

Joel sighs. "I understand you're upset with me for.. for bein' with her. But you're not gonna keep her away from me. I know that she's young, but she's old enough to-"

"No, no, no," Anita shakes her head. "Don't you dare use that excuse. My daughter may be of legal age, but she's too young to know the kind of mess you've got her in."

"She's older than you were when you started messin' around."

"You son of a bitch! Don't you ever-"

"Can we talk somewhere other than the street? Or do you just like makin' a scene and lettin' the whole neighborhood know my business?" He starts to march towards your cousin's house.

"You were best friends with her father," Anita says, following behind. "Don't you think maybe she's confused? Maybe she's looking to you to be her father figure, not her lover?"

"She's with me because she loves me!" he shouts. "And I love her. What the hell do you plan on doin' about that?"

"She doesn't know what love is!" she scrambles to catch up with him on the porch. "Then you come along and you groom her to be this woman you want her to be. But she's too young to understand! You ought to know better!"

"Groom her? I would NEVER do that to her!" His fists are clenched at his sides, blood boiling at how she could defile the love you share.

"Imagine it was your daughter Sarah," Anita says softly. "Imagine she's eighteen, away from home for the first time, and a man twice her age does everything you've been doing with mine. What would you do?"

Joel closes his eyes, knowing he's caught between a rock and a hard place. One the one hand, he sees you as more than some eighteen-year-old. On the other hand, he'd knock the teeth out of any man who dared to try something on Sarah, at any age. "Damn you, Anita. You have no idea. If Sarah was in that situation, I'd make sure whoever that person was.. that they wouldn't see the light of day again."

She looks satisfied. "Then you understand. And the next time you think of coming near my daughter, I want you to think about that instead."

You jump when you see him come through the front door. Without an ounce of shame you hurry to him, enveloping him in a hug. "I don't know what happened," you murmur as you embrace each other tightly. "God, this is such a mess.."

"What happened to your cheek?" He looks at you with concern and turns to Anita. "Did you fuckin' hit her??"

"She doesn't know the worst of it, does she?" Anita asks, ignoring him. "I'm willing to stake everything on it, that you never told her."

You glance from her to Joel. "Told me what?"

His hesitation makes your heart thud, a shiver of unease tingles your spine. Sofia excuses herself to the patio.

Anita looks pleased with herself when she says, "Honey, he's your daddy."

You pull away from him, your natural reaction to uncertainty, your brain going at warp speed to try to process everything from the past couple of hours. "What?" you ask quietly in disbelief.

"God damn it, Anita! Don't go tellin' her shit like that!" Joel roars, and for a moment you worry that he'll hurt your mom, but all that takes a backseat when you take in what she just said.

Anita cuts in, giving you the story of her history with Joel, their brief relationship before she fell for the man you know as your father. How she struggled to maintain the lie, how hard it was to have a baby while still in high school.. all this you've heard before minus the part about Joel. She goes on, in excruciating detail, as Joel leaves. You barely register his absence, your head unable to wrap itself around the new facts.

Joel returns with a manila envelope. "Fuck you, I'm not her father. I never was." He shows a paternity test, old and crinkled around the edges, yellowed with time. "Chris had a paternity test done when he was tryin' to get out of bein' married to you," he glares at Anita. "I had one done through the mail as well, just to be sure." He practically shoves the paper in her face. "Had it done right after Sarah was born."

You take the paper yourself, wanting to see with your own eyes, and there it is: a 99.99% probability of Chris being your father. The results for Joel: 0%.

You give him back the paper and take a seat on the sofa. Every movement feels like you're underwater, body heavy against the tide.

Joel sits next to you, his arm around you in a gesture of comfort, without getting too close. "I wouldn't have done any of that if I'd been your dad, babygirl.. you know that." He kisses the top of your head. "I'd have taken you away from them, and Sarah could have a sister."

Feeling sick, you shake your head and remove his arm from you.

"I know," he says resignedly.

"Was what she told me true?" you whisper. "Did you really love her back then? And slept with her? Even when she was pregnant with me?" Your voice pleads for him to lie. It's the one time you'll accept a fabrication instead of the truth.

Joel looks worn down, older than his years. He can't even look you in the eyes, he just nods.

It feels like an eternity passes. "Was this what you wanted?" you ask your mother. "I could have gone my whole life without knowing any of this! And you told me this for what? For what?"

It's sickening the way your mom looks smug about stirring the pot. She's always like this. She's the can't leave well enough alone type.

Anita simply responds, "I'm not going to punish you for being naive. But I am bringing you back with me to Houston tonight. You can finish college there. You're never to be around Joel again."

Joel rises from his seat, looking ready for a fight again. "You can't do that, you can't just take her away from me like that!"

"Jesus, Joel. If Chris was here he'd beat the living hell out of you. Be glad I'm here and not him."

You stand up as well. "Fuck you both." With long strides you reach your room, packing a few things. When you return they're both quiet, looking to you for the next move, both have expectation written on their faces.

Anita seems deep in thought, older than her 35 years. "You're coming with me?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you. But I'm not staying here either."

Joel looks like he's about to break down and cry, and you realize this is the first time you've seen him truly vulnerable. Your own heart is too bruised and sore to worry about his.

"I just need to think about some things," you say in a small voice.

Anita goes to her car, speaking with Sofia, likely admonishing her for letting the love affair happen in the first place.

Joel stops you on the porch. "Are you sure this is somethin' you wanna do?"

You can't look up at him. If you do you'll cry, and if you cry you'll just let him pull you into his arms again.

"I need to figure some things out."

"I love you," he says softly. His voice cracks a little.

You swallow the tears that threaten to come, focusing on a small ladybug crawling on the floorboards of the white wooden porch. "When you were with me did you ever think about her? Did you ever think I'd be a good substitute for a woman who didn't want you anymore?"

"Is that what you think I was doin'?"

You shrug.

"Babygirl, you look so much like your mom that it hurts. So sometimes, yeah, I do see her in you. But you're a better person than she is.. you're smart, you're kind, you're clever.. I can't see myself wantin' anyone else."

It's not really the answer you hoped for, but then again this is not the kind of day you hoped for either.

"That's not enough for me to stay.." you whisper. Your mother ruined it, just like she ruined everything else, just like she ran your father off.

"I think we were looking for other people in each other," you tell him. "You were looking for my mom and I was looking for my dad."

"No, no, sweetheart, it ain't like that," Joel puts his hand on your shoulder, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. Your heart beats madly seeing the pain and anguish there. "What I felt for your mother was nothin' compared to what I feel for you. Please, baby.. stay." He clutches your hands in his.

It was just a summer thing, you think to yourself as you drive down the street, following your mom, away from the home you've known for just a couple of months, before you force yourself to not think about anything else but the drive, the long stretch of Interstate 10 that takes you to Houston.

Sarah's there at the end of the block, stopped on her bike as she watches you leave. You realize you hadn't said bye to her, but when you catch her eye she doesn't smile back, averting her eyes. She gives a small wave, uncomfortable even with the friendly gesture, and your stomach is in knots as you realize it had to have been her..

The one who slammed the door on you and Joel at the party. The one who reached out to your mom, describing what she walked in on. Why else would she take your leaving so well?

You watch her start riding towards her house, wind blowing through her locks. You watch her through your rearview mirror until she's a speck on the horizon, and then completely out of sight.

(I'm sorry. I love y'all. I'm sorry.)

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next chapter ->

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[suugarbabe]

heyy! you're one of my fav angst writers so I was wondering if you could write a mattheo riddle x reader fic where Mattheo enjoys making reader jealous so reader goes out if her way to make mattheo jealous which ends in confessions and perhaps a smutty ending/ fluffy ending? Whatever you see fit! Thank youuuu~

(1) thank you sooo much, if I could I would just write all day long, I'm so glad you like what I put out there

(2) I loooove a jealous Teo 😊; here you go love x

warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, oral (f!receiving)

word count: 1.9k

18+ MDNI!! be aware of the content you consume, do not read if you are a minor.

“You know if you glare any harder, you might bore a hole through the man,” Pansy’s comment did nothing to stray your eyes away from the scene in front of you. “Yeah, well he deserves it, he’s doing this shit on purpose. It’s like he gets off on making me jealous.” You watched as Mattheo continued to shamelessly flirt with the Hufflepuff girl seated next to him. She was a giggling mess at basically anything he was saying, “He’s not that funny, she’s being obnoxious.” Pansy snorted at your comment, simply shaking her head. It was when Mattheo tucked a loose strand behind her ear that you felt like your brain was short-circuiting. Pansy saw the look on your face, then followed your eyes to Mattheo and the girl, “Oh he’s in for it now isn’t he.” You let out a huff of frustration, closing your textbook and leaving the classroom. 

In your dorm room you were getting ready for the party your house was throwing tonight. Typically you dressed a little more relaxed for parties your house hosts because it’s more homey to you, but tonight you were going full on vixen. You opted for a black mini dress, skin tight and hugging all the right places. You paired it with emerald green heels, a gold necklace adorned with an emerald stone and a gold snake bracelet. You allowed Pansy to do your hair and makeup, making your eyes pop and leaving your hair down your back in bouncing waves, just like you knew your boyfriend liked. 

However, he was barely going to touch you tonight. Not until you allowed him to anyway. This morning he fucked around, tonight he was going to find out. When you and Pansy entered the party it was in full swing. You spotted your group of boys in the back corner, and Merlin if Mattheo didn’t look amazing. But you took a deep breath, centering yourself. No matter how good he looked, you had to stick to your plan. Pansy bounced over to Draco, throwing her arms around him and greeting him with a big kiss to his cheek. It was obvious the boys had been drinking for a while before you both got there simply by the reaction Draco had, which was a big smile and giggle. 

You walked to the group a little slower. When you approached them, Mattheo’s eyes grew wide. You could see him looking you up and down and you did your best to appear unbothered by this. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, you just hummed in return. He met your eyes, “Something wrong, princess?” You put on a big smile, “No, Teo, nothing is wrong. Why did you do something you shouldn’t have?” He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Erm, no..?” Your mouth fell to a tight line, how could he be so oblivious, or was he still playing the game from earlier? You decided it was your turn now, and glanced around your circle of friends for the perfect accomplice. 

Besides your boyfriend, Enzo was your favorite boy in the group. He was always so cheerful, smile plastered on his face regardless of the situation. He was a cute guy, always having his own gaggle of girls following him around, but he never really entertained it. He always seemed more interested in quidditch or parties. When he saw you looking at him his smile grew wider, “Y/n, you look, wow.” You giggled, “Thank you, Enzo, that’s very kind.” If possible his smile grew wider as he took another sip of his drink. Mattheo went to place his hand on your waist possessively, but you pushed him off, instead walking up to Enzo, “You wanna dance with me, Enzo?” Enzo’s eyes flicked to Mattheo but you grabbed hold of Enzo’s jaw, pulling him down to face you, “Please, Enzie, you know Teo never dances with me and I wanna have fun tonight.” You put on your best pout, looking up through your lashes. 

You saw his shoulders slack, indicating that you had convinced him. You bounced on your toes, clapping your hands together. You knew the hem on your dress was riding up as you did so, and you could feel Mattheo’s eyes boring a hole in your back. You grabbed Enzo’s hand that wasn’t holding his drink and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor, ignoring any protests you heard from Mattheo as you passed. He looked over at Pansy, eyebrows nearly to the ceiling. Pansy held her hands up in defense, “Maybe if you’re lonely you can ask that Hufflepuff girl to dance?” Mattheo’s lips slowly turned into a smirk, realizing now the game you were playing at. 

Once near the middle of the dance floor, you turned your back to Enzo, swaying your hips and grinding against him. He free hand held firm to your waist as you snaked an arm up and around his neck. He let your bodies move against each other before enlightening you, “I know what you’re doing, y/n/n.” You turn to face him, wrapping your hands behind his neck, still dancing with your body pressed to his, “You mean just dancing with one of my best guy friends?” Enzo rolled his eyes, “I know you’re using me as a ploy to make Mattheo jealous. Don’t worry though…” He leaned in closer, whispering against your ear, “He’s been a dick on the quidditch pitch all week so I’ll play along. We can give him a little show if you want.” You nodded your head quickly, then Enzo went straight to work. 

As the next song came on Enzo grabbed hold of your waist, fingers dancing just above the curve of your ass. As the beat of the song got stronger, Enzo slotted his leg between yours, guiding you to essentially grind on his thigh. The song was barely a minute in before you felt another arm wrap around your waist and lift you away from your dancing partner. You didn’t even panic, you knew who it was and the way he talked to Enzo had warmth rushing to the pit of your stomach, “I don’t know what the fuck game you’re playing at Lorezno but it’s over.” Enzo held his hands up, “Listen, mate, she asked me to dance. Who am I to tell her no?” Mattheo grumbled some form of ‘fuck you’ back to him as he carried you to the edge of the dance floor and towards the stairs leading up to the dorms. 

“Exactly where are we going? I’m not done dancing, nor drinking. There’s like the whole night left to party,” You were struggling against Matteo’s grip now, which only tightened with your fighting. “Oh, you’re done with the party, princess. You wanted to act like a little slut with my friend, well now I’m going to treat you like a slut.” You gasped as he threw you down on his bed, “Excuse me, sir, but Enzo is my friend too. And I wasn’t acting like a slut…we were just dancing.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, pushing you back on to the bed and crawling over you. He dipped his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin making you gasp, “You don’t dance like that with my friends.” 

He nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, “O-our friend.” You barely got the words out, Mattheo’s hands trailing down your sides and playing with the hem of your dress. “Do you want our friend to be here right now because if you’d rather he help you out,” Mattheo dragged his middle finger up your clothed center, “I’m sure he’d kill to feel how wet he got you.” You tried to buck your hips towards him, tried to gain any friction possible, “N-not for him, all for you T-Teo.” He hummed, trailing his lips up your neck and along your jaw, “F’me, hmm? But you’ve barely been by me all night.” He was toying with you now, thumb drawing circles over your bundle of nerves, not nearly applying the pressure you needed. You shook your head, “Only was thinking of you, wanted, ah, wanted to make you jealous.” 

Mattheo hooks his fingers around the band of your panties, dragging them down agonizingly slow. You tug at the sides of your dress, allowing it to bunch up around your waist, “You wanting me to do something, love?” Mattheo looks up at you, eyes dancing with deviance. You tangle your fingers in his hair, “Need you, Teo.” He growled lowly at the wine in your tone, “What do you need from me, princess? Use your words.” You tugged at his curls, “Mouth, need your mouth on me.” He toys with you now, laying on his stomach, smoothing his palms up your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs before placing a kiss to each one, “Here?” 

You buck your hips toward him, causing him to flatten a palm against your hip, keeping you still. Without warning he flattens his tongue, licking a stripe up your center. You let out a choked gasp, head falling back against the pillow, “Oh, there? Is that what you want, princess?” You open your mouth to respond when he does it again, this time pressing his thumb down on your clit as he does so. “Loss for words now, hmm? But you were talking such a big game earlier.” You want to glare at him, to tell him to fuck off but the way his mouth feels on you is pure bliss.

Your nails scratch on his scalp and the growl he releases sends vibrations straight to your core. He grips your thighs tighter, surely causing bruises but in the moment you can’t get yourself to care. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard as he plunges three fingers knuckle deep into you. Your back arches off the bed, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Teo, don’t stop, please.” 

You can feel the smirk on his face as he works his fingers just slightly faster, the knot in the pit of your stomach becoming tighter with each curl, each lick, each twist. Your hips roll against in face, grip tightening in his hair until you’re practically using him, riding his tongue and chasing your high and the feeling gets tighter and tighter and then the rubber band snaps, your mouth drops open and a chorus of praises mixed with his name leave your mouth. And he lets your ride it out on his tongue, on his fingers, but even when you begin to settle he doesn’t stop. He pushes against the sensitive nerves and you feel like you’re going to black out from the pleasure as he demands a second release from you before you can even stop it, not that you would even want to at this point. As you catch your breath you chance a look down at him between your thighs, catch him rub a thumb across his lips, gathering your arousal and sucking it off. You smile at him and he just grins at you, a lovestruck look on his face, “If this is my punishment I’m gonna have to make you jealous more often.” You were teasing, but slightly serious. Mattheo crawls over you, face hovering just above yours now, “Oh darling, I’m just getting started.”

[patchofgrey]

NejiTen headcannons pt 2; because yes

Yes, welcome to part 2 of my delulu, please enjoy my head cannons for my OTP. If you need part 1 here it be. part 3 is spicey.

Here are my Tenten Head Cannons and some Neji Head Cannons that don't completely go against cannon (more like add ons to the cannon to add some spice) that I use for my fanfics. They remain pretty consistent throughout (give or take a few characters).

1. Their first kiss was an impulsive mistake 😬. I could see Tenten being overly excited about an achievement, or Neji does a huge favor for her (his love language is acts of service and gift giving) and impulsively kisses him due to be wrapped up in the moment. Especially when they’re like just turned sixteen, so think right before Shippuuden. Neji is surprised, but doesn’t push her away or offers any kind of repulsive reaction. In fact, it didn’t register in Tenten’s mind that she had potentially taken Neji’s first kiss at all (oblivious but hey, still love her). When Neji asked her about it, she had apologized for the sudden action. They both learned it was each other’s first kiss. Because he’s awkward, he keeps to himself that he likes it. Naturally, this happens around Gai, Lee, and maybe even Shikamaru to which they’re all looking at him with a shit eating grin.

2. Tenten’s love languages are words of affirmation, quality time, and physical touch. Words of affirmation we can see in the anime; Neji is the one usually praising her for her abilities (in his own way). She also likes to boast about Neji and his abilities to others since she is…always with him (side note: Even though Rock Lee and Pals/Naruto SD is not really cannon, it more of just a gag show to highlight Team Gai in a comedic light and separate the seriousness of the main story; Neji and Lee both praise Tenten quite a lot in this show. They boost her up so much where she’s like “omg me? Really??”.) Kay, back to how they’re always together; Like, c’mon. You mean to tell me that these two aren’t always together just for training? They definitely spend a lot of their days off together. Whenever something pops up they just so happen to appear together? They could be at a tea shop, a hot spring, lying in the grass at the training fields as Neji meditates or Tenten sharpens her kunai. Hell, Tenten’s hobby is fortune telling, she probably reads Neji’s fortune when she’s bored or if he feels like indulging her. If Neji is running errands, or training with Hinata and Hanabi, he will make time to check in on Tenten afterwards and surprise her with her favorite dumplings or sweets. For physical touch, I can see Tenten hanging off of Neji’s shoulders or holding onto his arm when they are together. She also plays with his hair. Neji being awkward, will do no more than hold her hand in public (but even then he didn’t get comfortable with that until after the war). But also, for me, I think about the dream she had and the final scene with Neji:

It took his touch and his words to get her completely engulfed within the genjutsu. This is the only scene in that whole episode that her eyes are completely dark. She IMMEDIATELY FOLDS TO HIM after all that (granted the build up what her proving and wanting to save everyone with her dream teammates believing her when she claims she’s in a genjutsu but also Neji is alive and I think that’s the first falling point for her, not the saving them part). But thus also tells me that she is completely comfortable with Neji’s touches, probably because when they are alone, he’s casually physically interacting with her and because he’s fucking dead in the main cannon she will miss his touch. shhh let me have this please.

3. They started secretly dating after the second Chunnin exams. I will leave you with this for the explanation:

The way I fucking SQUEALED at my screen when I played this game and saw this. You can’t tell me SHIT at this point. Let me sink with my ship alright? Neji didn’t deny it either. I think neither of them denied it. I will replay the game just because lol. Nothing gets past Itachi Uchiha, we know this.

3. Shikamaru figured out they were secretly dating right away and he hold a great friendship with Neji to a point. I could see him asking Neji outright if his speculations were true; to which the Hyuga would brush him off until he got tired of the Nara teasing him. When he asked Neji why they were keeping it a secret I could see Neji saying he didn’t want anyone butting into their business. But also, in his shinobi mind, if they made it obvious, it could be dangerous for them if they went on missions; but then, Neji slipped up:

He didn’t have to, but he did. And continued to hold her until he was certain she was alright. I also have it written in my fan fictions that Shikamaru and Neji share that genius book smart friendship where they can read each other very easily. It’s cannon that Neji is shit at card games and strategy games, which I wouldn’t be surprised if the Hyuga sought advice from Shikamaru for certain things pertaining to his work and Tenten. Shikamaru also is very good at keeping secrets, so Neji and Tenten didn’t have to worry about him blabbing like Gai and Lee. I also think after this scene, Lee and Gai had confronted Neji about him doting on her after she almost drowned in the water prison. BUT ALSO, this is a parallel to the first rounds of chunnin exams! When Temari threw Tenten across the room, Lee caught her. This time, Neji acknowledges that Tenten is at her limit, saves al of them, and goes out of his way to catch her and again continues o hold onto her to make sure she's okay. And it's expensive as hell to animate scenes that drag on like this, and they chose this panel to drag the animation out for. This slow burn was killing me when I saw this episode.

4. Neji is book smart and Tenten is street smart to balance the partnership. Personally, I love that Shikamaru and Tenten share that “street smart” mentality; in the data books Tenten has a higher IQ than both Neji and Lee. She’s very intelligent but would rather have others do the thinking for her “point and I’ll shoot” type of thinking. BUT 👏🏼IN 👏🏼THEM 👏🏼STREETS she is a menace, which is also probably why Neji is always with her to make sure she doesn’t get into trouble while she’s running the block. I could see Shikamaru and Tenten understanding that which leads to a friendship; so to recap, Shikamaru knows, but understands why they’re keeping it under wraps. He’s like the reminder of when the sent of their relationship is in the air/obvious when they are on missions or in public.

5. Neji felt threatened by Sasuke as gennin when Tenten found him cute. She didn’t verbalize it out loud, but he probably knew she would find the Uchiha cute. Since they were young teens when they first took the chunnin exams, it wouldn’t surprise me that Neji was a bit annoyed that Tenten was looking at him, almost as if “how dare he”. I wouldn’t be surprised if the team had spoken about it; Lee probably complaint about how Sakura liked Sasuke and Tenten probably said she though Sasuke was pretty cool, which irritated the fuck out of Neji. The first sign of jealousy, especially if Tenten was bragging about how cool Neji was for the past year when they first became gennin.

6. There was no way Hiashi didn’t pick up on his nephew having a crush. There is also no way Neji did not bring Tenten around his family. There had to have been some interaction with Hiashi where Neji had brought her to the Hyuga compound as gennin, and again as chunnin. I wouldn't be surprised if Tenten watched as Neji trained with Hinata at times and had conversations with Hiashi. For shippuuden purposes, I wouldn't be surprised if Hiashi had brought up Tenten as a potential marriage partner to Neji and his awkward ass was avoiding the topic completely. In Frequency, I have Hiashi bring it up (implying that he has already spoken to his hard-headed awkward ass nephew about it) but in a way where he is directly talking to Tenten, who is there. I believe Hiashi is a character who follows tradition for tradition sake; he is conditioned to do so as head of the clan, but that doesn't mean he agrees with certain things about Hyuga tradition. The fact that he apologized to Neji after seeing his power and understanding why his nephew was angry at the world, he made it a priority to salvage some kind of relationship with his nephew for the sake of his twin brother. When Neji brought Tenten around, he would see that Tenten was some kind of comfort/light for him and decided that Neji should have a choice of who he chose to have in his life and how close; There's a lot of head cannons/assumptions that in order to preserve the Byakugan, they need to inter marry with other clan members, but for me, it's a dominate gene where the eyes change permanently when activated at a young age (low key, fuck how they brought it up in Baruto, Himawari should've had Hinata's eyes and Baruto should've just had the recessive gene). This was another plot hole I wanted to fill and it made sense to me since people were so hell bent on stealing the Hyuga eyes; the clan is very selective of partners but perhaps that is because it is a dominate gene. Sure, they can marry cousins if they want, but I don't see it as a forced marriage situation unless the arrangement is requested for. Hiashi saw Tenten as a great match for Neji, is all I'm saying. Hiashi knew they were secretly dating, in fact he was the on who told them to keep it a secret.

7. Neji's promise to Tenten during the war was of romantic and platonic intentions. He gave her that un-Neji like smile and thumbs up which means he had to had promised her something big in order for him to do that. AND ALSO they had to had been alone when he made her that promise, right? She was the only character who showed that interaction with him. It probably went something like this; Neji and Tenten had a deep conversation about possible out comes of the war, his death, her death, unheal-able damage...etc. I actually see this being a conversation about their feelings and how if one of them kicks the bucket, they would celebrate their life instead of mourning their death (which is hard) but Neji would prefer Tenten to keep his memory alive, not fixate on his demise. Neji probably also promised Tenten to be by her side always and maybe even promised her his heart (idk on the fence on this one but it would go with them secretly dating headcannon). In the video game, you will run into Tenten still in her feelings about Neji's death after the war. She was probably processing that conversation all over again and now that he was physically gone, she had to come to terms with the fact that she was now alone and had to force herself to move forward. I absolutely loathed how Lee was written to have the most emotional reaction and Tenten and Gai just brushed it off a bit. To make myself feel better, Tenten was probably in Neji's arms, crying her eyes out denying that anything would happen to them and then he made his promise to her that after the war, they would be together as fate willed it to; they've been together all this time. I can see Tenten releasing all of her feeling with Neji himself and him trying to comfort her of any overthinking she was experiencing. He also remined her that she is a very capable ninja and can hold her own without him. WHICH SHE DID IN THE WAR. (I'm still salty about Hinata's meat-bag no jutsu and how Kishi was like MMMMMM Neji can go. But then, proceed to make Tenten single and have promotions where Neji and Tenten were displayed as a matching couple with SasuSaku and NaruHina. Then have the audacity to state that he regretted killing off Neji? Fucking tear my heart out, how could he do my girl dirty.)

In my own au, Neji does go through with his promise of remaining by her side. Between my fics Radio (Trigger warning on this one it's a heavy and unfortunate situation of them as ANBU) and Frequency (The sequel of them picking up the pieces).

Part 3 will be the spicey headcannons; please stay tuned for my continuous delulu train. Also, message me about your thoughts, I'm open to a lot of other ideas even if they disagree with mine. That's the whole point of a fandom to be honest; everyone if free to have their opinions, this is just mine based on the cannon we are given.

[theragethatisdesire]

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

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“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

[flower-boi16]

I just finished watching The Full Moon, here are my thoughts.

Positives:

+The opening musical number is good & is admittely pretty catchy. I expected it to be some god awful love ballad between Stolas and Blitz, and thank god it didn't end up being that.

+The scenes of the Cherubs being horrified of the stuff at Blitz is buying are pretty funny I'll admit

+Nice to see the Dhorks and Cherubs back as well as a team up between the two. That's a fun idea

Negatives:

-The Dhorks just. Randomly appear out of nowhere to capture the Cherubs...? Where did they come from????

-The Cherubs for some reason try to lie about being excorists...? Why??? Why are they lying about this??? Why can't they just tell the Dhorks their beef with the Imps???

-So the Dhorks got more funding from the government because of the incident that happened the last time they met with the Imps, implying that they did send the footage they had, implying that the government now knows about the existance of demons. Ok so woulden't an incident as big as this get on the news...? Did this thing get on the news or no???

-The Cherubs are screaming right behind Blitz yet he NEVER hears them for some reason????

-Blitz being on completely good terms with Fizz still feels very weird to me. Like Fizz just instantly forgives Blitz for the sheer amount of physical and emotional truama he gave him in one episode and their back to being buddies again. It just doesn't feel earned is what I'm saying.

-So it's revealed that Loona and the others were following Blitz throughout the whole episode, which is how they were able to find the cherubs. Ok so if they were following Blitz around then woulden't they have seen the Cherubs? They were plainly hiding on the roof in the first scene, anyone could see them. Did they see the Cherubs at first? And if they did, why didn't they attack them earlier???

-The whole fight feels oddly very slow. Like I just felt bored while watching this fight scene unfold and that sucks because season 1 was able to create good fights, and even season 2's first half has some well-animated fight scenes. Why do the movements of the characters here feel so sluggish now???

-One of the Cherubs for some reason doesn't cut Millie's tail off and stabs her leg instead even though it's literally the thing that’s strangling her.

-Millie throws st. Cherub with her tail after that which she for some reason didn't do earlier.

-Moxxie makes quip in front of one of the Cherubs when he could’ve just instantly shot him in the face there. Seriously that was such an easy opportunity

-That fucking line where Stolass says "I thought so highly of you, I didn't know you felt so low of me" is PEAK Stolass victimization and Blitz being demonized. Plus it makes no fucking sense; like, BITCH YOU WERE SEXUALLY ABUSING HIM. OF COURSE HE WAS GOING TO HATE YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

-The whole finale scene is very confusing to me. It starts out good enough with the show actually ackgnowlegding Stolas' mistakes for once but then towards the end the framing begins to shift into Stolas victimizing and Blitz demonization, all culminating in that final line. "Oh no Blitz hurt Stolas' feelings he's such an asshole!!!". Like although the show sometimes acknowledges Stolas' mistakes it's rendered null by the show Still framming Blitz as an asshole for not understanding that Stolas has real feelings for him, even though all Stolas has been doing is SEXUALLY ABUSING HIM.

It all feels gaslighty to me. And the line where Stolas says that Blitz not realizing that Stolas has genuine feelings for him and thinks it's just for sleeping with him shows that the reletionship can't work makes it sound like Blitz is apart of the problem for not reconizing that Stolas loves him, even though, again, Stolas has been treating Blitz horribly throughout the first season so why WOULD Blitz think that Stolas loves him???? It's just more Stolas victimization painting him as the sympathetic one while Blitz is once again framed as the asshole by the narrative. I'm sorry. But I'm fucking TIRED of it. I'm tired of Stolas victimization. I'm tired of Blitz being demonized. And I'm TIRED OF THE FANDOM BLAMING BLITZ AS THE TOXIC ONE HERE WHEN HE'S NOT.

And sadly, the Blitz demonization is only going to get worse from here judging by the latest trailer.

This episode was just as awful as I was expecting it to be. 2.5/10.