#since she already cares about him at that point

[sageshouldknowbetter]

Some may be apprehensive that Severance won’t portray Mark’s interaction with Helena in the tent as the sexual assault it was. But not only will they — they already are.

Mark’s behavior toward Helly has completely changed. He doesn’t sit next to her at Irving’s funeral. He shuts down attempts at conversation with offhand, vague snarky comments and a defiantly blank facial expression. When Helly knocks on the door to the bathroom, his eyes dart around like an animal cornered. Where he once would have slowed down for her in the hallway so they could talk, he walks much faster ahead. He’s trying as hard as possible to avoid her. To ignore her. To run away.

Now contrast this with his treatment of “Helly” when she first walked out of the elevator in season two. He waited for her to arrive! He was so relieved she’d come back! And when they were walking down that hallway and he was explaining the situation with Ms. Casey, he stopped mid-stride, turned to her with a smile on his face, and said “Look, Helly—“

He never got to finish that sentence. But some say he was going to confess that though his outie had a wife, his affections lay with her. And I think they’re right.

So why is he acting so differently now? The answer is obvious: “Because they are smarter than us, okay? They know everything.”

After the assault, Mark likely feels like a complete idiot. He spent so much of season one deconstructing his beliefs and breaking free from Lumon’s propaganda. And the minute he believes he’s immune to their lies and no longer a corporate slave, he is taken advantage of and hoodwinked by the very figurehead of said company, masking as someone he loves.

A symbol of Lumon convinced him he was safe. Tricked him. Invaded him in the most intimate way possible, with him completely oblivious, “like an idiot.” Right when he thought everything might be okay.

So maybe Lumon’s right. Maybe there’s no point in fighting. Because if he was stupid enough to not realize his own friend was being possessed by her billionaire doppelgänger, then maybe Lumon is correct about innies being nothing more than pawns. Maybe they are people, and he really is… not. (That’s how Helena treated him, anyway.)

And if that’s the case, of course he wants to give up looking for Ms. Casey and lose himself in work! For a moment he thought he was a human being, deserving of autonomy over his own body and capable of something more than sitting behind a desk — but his assault sends that all crashing down. He is an extension of his outie, made for work and nothing more. Going beyond that gets dangerous. That’s what got Irving killed… and him in Helena’s tent. And Helly? He cannot trust Helly. As far as he knows, his only confirmed moment with Helly since the OTC was when he was holding her in his arms, his jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Why should it be Helly coming back to the severed floor? If Helena could trick him before, who says she can’t learn from her past mistakes and trick him again over and over? Mark refuses to be humiliated and hurt after last time, so he avoids her (and Dylan!) and puts up a barrier of cool, snarky indifference — just like how he deals with grief.

But we know that indifference is a mask. When Milchick walked out of the elevator after revealing he knew about him and Helena Eagan, Mark had no one to pretend for — and he went completely stiff, blankly wide-eyed in an expression extremely reminiscent of his usual innie self. Whatever the reasons for this, one thing’s for sure: Mark does deeply care about what happened in the tent. And at least for now, he will lose himself in Cold Harbor to cope with it.

Lumon certainly got their productive worker back. But good Lord… at what cost?

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re starting to suspect that, to spencer, you’re nothing more than a form of comfort—a bandage for a lingering wound, a way to cope with the ghost of the girl who came before you.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female!reader, spencer is not over maeve but starts a new relationship, alex blake's first appearance in my fics, reader is kinda a people pleaser who takes the blame for everything and it hurts me so much that i just want to hug her and tell her she deserves the whole world...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.5k

𝐚/𝐧: this fic was written for @mggslover celebrate her 1k followers event <333 it took me a while, but belated congratulations—you fully deserve it! love you, girl!

wildflower

billie eilish ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

01:05 ━━━━●─────────────── 04:21

but i see her in the back of my mind. all the time.

"Snow?" You slowed your pace, lifting your head in surprise.

Above you stretched a starless night sky, with the moon faintly emerging from between the clouds. The falling flakes were small and sparse, drifting toward you in a lazy, graceful descent, only to vanish almost instantly upon landing on your clothes or the ground.

You glanced to the side at Spencer. Your…well, probably boyfriend. You had only started seeing each other recently, but ever since he appeared in your life, you knew there was something special about him—something you wanted to keep close. What began as casual meetups had gradually turned into hours of rhythmic conversations, your first honest confessions, and real dates. Wonderful dates.

You were walking to the restaurant on foot, and you liked the way your arms remained intertwined as you moved side by side, step for step. You had often seen older couples walking like this—it carried a certain elegance, and to you, it had always felt like something deeply tender and full of care.

Matching your pace to another’s, making sure they were right beside you, never falling behind by even an inch. Sharing your warmth, reminding them of your presence and your feelings, even when you were both lost in silence, unable to express it with words.

"I admit, it's unusual for this time of year," Spencer replied after a moment, raising his hand as a snowflake landed on his skin—only to melt instantly. It vanished.

It was only then that you realized you had interrupted him mid-sentence earlier. He had been talking about…With a hint of embarrassment, you realized you couldn’t remember. At some point, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn and drifted into territories you weren’t entirely familiar with. Not only did you lack a degree in that field, but it simply wasn’t something you had a particular passion or deep interest in.

From the moment you met him, you knew he was a man of knowledge, and it hadn’t taken long to realize that in his voice, everything sounded at least three times more interesting than it should have. Plus, he had a sexy voice.

So listening to what sometimes felt like full-blown monologues was nothing short of a pleasure. Even if, at times, you didn’t fully grasp the bigger picture. You wondered whether you should apologize and ask him to repeat what he had said, but by then, you had already reached the entrance of the restaurant—a small, cozy place within walking distance from your apartment.

Its windows, framed in black, were made of slightly amber-tinted glass, softening the light that spilled inside, making it warmer, easier on the eyes, and undeniably soothing.

“Spencer?”

A voice called out behind you just as you were about to step inside—before you even had the chance to open the door.

Both of you turned toward the pair standing nearby—a man and a woman with brown hair, the hem of a blue dress peeking out from beneath her coat. She was just tucking her car keys into her purse, though her sharp eyes didn’t leave your faces for even a second. Then, as if realizing herself, she blinked and quickly summoned a smile.

“Running into a coworker on my first day off in ages—what are the odds, right?” she said lightly.

You glanced at Spencer out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he saw this coincidence as a good thing. He always said the team was like family to him, but you were still holding onto his arm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his posture. His expression shifted into something unreadable—strange, almost.

But then, he quickly composed himself, introducing you to Alex, as it turned out, and then introducing Alex and her silent husband to you.

"Nice to meet you," she said as you shook her hand.

She seemed friendly, but either some previously unknown paranoia had just kicked in, or she was studying you a little too closely. Especially after Spencer hesitated slightly before using the word girlfriend to introduce you.

"Sorry," she murmured suddenly, shaking her head slightly. "I just had no idea Spencer was seeing someone. And I definitely didn’t expect to run into a familiar face at our favorite restaurant," she added, glancing at her husband, who confirmed her words with a small nod.

"Well, it’s slowly becoming our favorite too," you joked. She was just surprised to see you, nothing more. You tried not to show any reaction to the fact that Spencer had apparently never mentioned you before. You kept your smile in place, reminding yourself that it wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t, right? He didn’t have to report his love life to everyone around him. "They have the best ravioli here. Have you tried it?"

"Hm, you know, I don’t think we have? But if you recommend it, maybe I should…"

The conversation continued for a little while—just casual, friendly small talk. Spencer barely participated, only forcing a polite smile when necessary or nodding with a slight delay. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the way he briefly pressed a hand to his furrowed forehead for just a fleeting moment.

It started to worry you. You wished Alex a pleasant evening, and on your way to the table, your thoughts revolved around how to bring up the topic. You sat across from each other at a round table, the waiter took your orders, and only then did he manage to speak.

"Is everything okay, Spencer? You suddenly went quiet," you observed gently. "Or maybe that small talk outside just drained you. They tend to do that, true. Not like our conversation about CRISPR," you added with a smile, only now remembering what topic you'd interrupted him on earlier when it started snowing.

Spencer slowly returned your smile, shaking his head in an almost apologetic manner.

"Sorry. Alex really caught me off guard, that's all," he explained, focusing his gaze on you—but not on your face—before widening his smile even more. "You look beautiful."

The sweetness in his voice as he said it made the previous topic vanish into the depths of your attention.

"You told me that before we left," you teased. "I'm starting to suspect you’ve been lying to me this whole time about your eidetic memory. Could that be true, Dr. Reid?"

"Maybe," he admitted with a small shrug. "Or maybe some facts just deserve to be repeated. After all, we choose what we believe."

You let out a short laugh.

"You’d probably prefer if I blindly believed the second version. Fine, I’ll do it—but just know, I’m keeping a close eye on you, okay?" you warned, pointing a finger at him. He raised his hands as if washing them of all accusations.

You smiled again, but behind it still lingered the interrupted topic. You swallowed.

"Alex seems really nice. You’ve told me a little about them, so I thought you might have told them about me too."

You said it before you could stop yourself. You saw the expression that crossed his face—surprise that you had addressed the issue so directly, mixed with a deeply buried nervousness at having to explain.

"I..." he began, drawing in a breath. "You know, I just prefer to wait with things like this. They’re my friends, but I keep a lot to myself. That’s just…that’s just how I am. I didn’t think it would hurt you..."

"It didn’t," you cut in quickly. A wave of discomfort washed over you for even bringing it up. Spencer was right—that was just the way he was, and you didn’t want to criticize the way he navigated relationships. Besides, it really wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t want to ruin the evening over something like this. You really didn’t."Seriously, it’s not like that. I was just curious. They know about me, but I don’t expect you to tell everyone about us. They’re your friends, and you should tell them when you feel like it."

"Your opinion matters here too," he pointed out, a faint crease appearing on his forehead. "Did you…did you tell your friends you were seeing someone?"

You pursed your lips, pretending to think it over. The real answer was pretty much everyone. But you knew that if you said that outright, he’d feel awkward about it, so you held back.

"I might have mentioned something…but I was waiting for things to be clear between us first. Also, that was the first time you called me your girlfriend."

"Was that okay?"

"I hope so. I mean…was it okay for you?"

For a moment, you both fell silent before bursting into laughter at the sheer absurdity of the conversation. This was exactly what you needed—to wrap yourselves back up in the lightheartedness the evening called for. The occasion. The date. 

You let out a quiet breath of relief, inwardly pleased with how the evening was unfolding. Conversation flowed as easily as ever—teasing remarks, grins smudged with amusement, and chaotic little anecdotes filling the space between you. Then your meals arrived.

You both followed a natural path in your discussion, one that inevitably led back to the topic that had dissolved along with the snowflake on Spencer’s hand. Genetics. And the longer he spoke, the harder it became to pretend you actually understood what he was saying.

Because this wasn’t like summarizing the history of Henry VIII’s wives—an engaging tidbit that could be followed with interest, even without prior knowledge. No, this felt more like jumping back into a conversation that had been paused, except you were the wrong person to be continuing it.

You shifted in your seat, uneasy.

You had never found yourself in a situation like this before, and you weren’t sure how to handle it. There was also a strange, nagging feeling—like this wasn’t the first time it had happened. Had Spencer done this before, and you’d just never noticed because you hadn’t been listening closely enough?

You knew you should address it, but it took you so long to work up the nerve that, by the time you finally spoke, he had already been talking for several more minutes without your active participation. The fork in your hand suddenly felt heavier as you took a deep breath.

“Spencer,” you forced yourself to interrupt.

He stopped immediately. Then, as he took in the worried expression on your face, his lips parted slightly in surprise. You could tell he was already wondering whether he’d said something wrong.

You tried to keep your tone light. “Why…why are we talking about this, exactly? I mean, it’s not that it isn’t interesting, but I’ve never had anything to do with genetics. I can’t really keep up with this conversation.” He stayed silent as you let everything spill out, and you instantly felt like it was somehow your fault. The urge to apologize nearly overwhelmed you. “Sorry. You know…never mind. I must have just not been paying enough attention….”

Spencer froze in place, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him for a moment. There was a fleeting devastation in his expression. Emptiness didn’t just appear in his eyes—it spilled out, breaking through like lava erupting from a torn surface in disaster films.

But suddenly, he looked into your eyes, and in an instant, it was gone.

It had only managed to tighten your stomach.

"You're right," he admitted, nodding with guilt. "Sorry, I just..."

And then he trailed off, gazing at you with a kind of helplessness. Slowly, you set your fork down.

"Restroom. I'll be right back," you excused yourself gently, offering a soft smile as a quiet reassurance that everything was okay.

Bitterly, you called yourself an immature runaway in your mind. You didn’t understand why you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing up these topics, from manifesting your discomfort during moments like this. You knew how to ruin an evening—you did it almost habitually, as if it were your job.

You could have just let him talk. He was happy; you could have let him stay that way.

You always cared deeply about the people around you. But when it came to Spencer, it was different. In some special way. Because even though you hadn’t been together for long, you were beginning to fall for him, and his worries were slowly becoming your own. He didn’t talk much about it, but he had told you about his previous girlfriend. About grief, about feeling lost. You knew his job affected him, too.

Very, very rarely did he allow himself to have moments of weakness around you. At least, you hoped they were just moments. You prayed they were only fleeting, not something permanently etched into his face or clawing relentlessly at the inside of the mask he wore every day.

That was when his gaze would slip away in that same distant way. When he would sink into himself, only to snap back to order. He never spoke about it out loud. You wished he would, but maybe it was too soon between you to ask for that. You didn’t want to scare him off. You didn’t want to lose him.

You pressed your hands against the sink. They trembled.

You promised yourself that you would go back with a smile on your face and make this evening the best one you had shared in a long time.

That was when you felt someone watching you.

Alex stepped into the restroom, but she didn’t look like she intended to use it.

You forced a smile onto your lips, though it took effort. You turned to the sink and started washing your hands, pretending nothing weighed on you.

"Can we talk?" Alex asked. Her arms were crossed, and she spoke softly, delicately—like she didn’t want to scare you off. That tone reminded you of a teacher talking to a preschooler, and you disliked it immediately.

"Sure," you replied. Despite your best efforts, you sounded dry. "About what?"

She sighed. You didn’t look at her in the mirror. You didn’t meet her gaze.

"Do you know why I was so surprised to see you with Spencer?"

"Because he never mentioned me before?"

"Because it’s been so little time," she said, ignoring your response.

At last, you turned to face her, forgetting to dry your hands. Something inside you already sensed where this conversation was heading, and you didn’t like it.

Alex’s eyes widened.

"He…he didn’t tell you…?"

"About his ex-girlfriend?" you cut in. "That she died? He told me, of course, he told me. We’re together. I just don’t understand why you’re bringing this up now."

She tilted her head to the side with a solemn expression.

"Because I don’t think enough time has passed for him to be dating someone new."

Her words hit like a slap, and you immediately took a defensive stance.

"Good thing it’s not up to you to decide what Spencer should or shouldn’t do," you stated, no longer hiding your sharpness. "Grief is a personal matter."

"That’s true," she admitted patiently, inclining her head. "It’s a very personal matter. Everyone experiences it differently. But it’s only been two months since Maeve’s death. And forgive me for saying this—it might sound harsh. You seem like a wonderful person, and Spencer is my friend. I really don’t want to hurt either of you. But he hasn’t moved on. I can tell because I see him every day. You need to be aware of how this looks from the outside. Like he’s seeking comfort..."

"I won’t have that," you cut her off, your voice trembling.

Your head buzzed. You didn’t want to take her words to heart, didn’t want to believe her. She didn’t know what she was talking about—she knew nothing about your relationship with Spencer.

For the first time, you heard her name. Maeve.

He had never said it. He always just called her girlfriend.

He had also never told you when it happened. You had assumed it was much longer than two months ago. Especially since…

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Alex asked, undeterred by your tone.

The worst part was that she genuinely seemed concerned about you. At least, that’s what her expression suggested. You would have preferred pity over sympathy. You would have preferred if she was just trying to sabotage you. Then you could have ignored her.

You met Spencer a month ago.

You turned your back to her so she wouldn’t see the look on your face.

She saw it anyway. The mirror was right in front of you.She stepped forward, reaching out as if to place a hand on your shoulder, but you moved away. She nodded in understanding.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” she said. “But I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t tell you. You have the right to know. I’d prefer…I’d prefer if you didn’t mention this conversation to Spencer.”

You just wanted her to leave.

But she stubbornly waited for a response.

Eventually, you nodded.

Once she was gone, you dropped your head over the sink.

You needed a long moment to untie the knot that had formed in your stomach as a result of that interaction. Her words kept coming back, and they hurt. They came back and hurt, over and over, knocking on the door and then running away like kids playing a game to annoy the neighbors. Your eyes burned with tears of disbelief, but you quickly pushed them away. You didn’t want Spencer to notice anything.

You started rationalizing it all.

Yes, you had only been together for a short time, but you had never questioned his intentions toward you. He had never lied to you, never deliberately hurt you. Besides, he was a smart man, and you couldn’t believe that someone like him would toy with another person’s feelings—his partner’s—just to make himself feel better. He wouldn’t use you as a temporary bandage for his pain. That wasn’t his style, and the argument about his recent grief didn’t convince you.

Yes, it was soon.

But as you had said yourself, it was personal matter. 

You almost felt foolish for letting Alex’s words—those of a woman you had only just met—affect you so deeply. You smoothed your hair, steadied your breathing, and smiled at your reflection. That was how you intended to return to the table—composed, ready to immerse yourself in conversation, to lift both your spirits, to let him talk about anything he wanted as a form of atonement for your doubts.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You listened to him from beneath lifted lashes, delighting in the happy spark in his eyes, even though the meaning of his words barely registered. The knot in your stomach had dissolved, and you could eat again, savor the meal, the evening, his presence. Nothing could change that.

So even when, caught up in conversation, he mentioned a phone call you didn’t remember ever having, you just let it slide.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you had woken up next to each other.

You lived separately, and in the end, you both worked so much that the opportunity rarely presented itself. The rest of the evening had been absolutely wonderful, and when you opened your eyes, your first fleeting thought was that the morning would unfold in the same warm atmosphere.

But then you quickly realized it was far too early to be waking up.

The room was still cloaked in darkness, broken only by the faint outline of your tangled bodies and the soft glow of white sheets.

You hadn’t woken up together.

You had woken up alone—or rather, you had been woken up by his sudden movement, the sharp inhale of breath.

Still drowsy and dazed, you propped yourself up on your elbow, trying to get a better look at Spencer. His hair was tousled, his eyes squeezed shut far too tightly for someone in peaceful sleep. He mumbled something under his breath before jolting again, this time murmuring something almost pleadingly.

That’s when you realized—he was having a nightmare.

You felt a pang in your chest, a rush of compassion filling you. His face looked so defenseless against whatever haunted him—even in sleep. This was the first time you had witnessed something like this in your relationship, so you hesitated for a moment before deciding on your next move.

Gently, you wove your fingers through his hair, stroking it soothingly. Then, you pressed yourself closer to his side, wrapping your arms around him as much as you could, whispering quiet reassurances.

At first, he didn’t move. You thought the nightmare had passed, and you remained still, wondering if it had been your doing. Not that it mattered. What mattered was that he was okay now.

Still caught in sleep, Spencer turned toward you, burying his face against your neck. His breathing started to even out, the steady warmth of it tickling your skin. You couldn't help but smile softly.

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand.

Was he still dreaming?

“I love you.”

You finally made out the muffled words, and they caught you completely off guard. You had never said it to each other before—you thought it was too soon. You thought those words needed the right moment, something special. But as you lay there, wrapped up in the quiet of the night, you realized this was the perfect moment. Just the two of you, small in the arms of the darkness, so drowsy you were forced into honesty.

I love you too.

You were just about to say it when Spencer spoke again—just a little faster, just a little softer.

And what he said was like a quick, unexpected stab. You didn’t feel the pain yet, but you could already see yourself bleeding.

“I love you, Maeve.”

[dolche-tejada]

"I respect shirakumosolos opinion because he's realistic"

Saying villains shouldn't get an happy ending because it's unfair isn't realistic, it's just moral. And claiming these villains deserved to die because "an eye for an eye" isn't either, it's the classic edgy teenager bs you can find everyday on the Punisher subreddit.

"and I also see what you're trying to convey but the world didn't work like that."

Yes and that's kinda the problem in MHA. The Hero Society is consistently framed as heavily fucked up but in the end, problems are either swept under the rug or superficially addressed. Yet Horikoshi treats this situation as if everything was fixed or soon to be when no, shit barely changed.

"You are disappointed with the ending of the manga because the Hero is alive and well after they save the world from the villains."

Nope, I'm actually disappointed by how villains are either dead or incarcerated for life in miserable conditions despite Horikoshi spending hundreds of chapters building up themes and a development for them which should have logically resulted with them being saved.

If a story promise its audience something only to do a 180° at the last minute and pretend it was the logical conclusion, it's perfectly legitimate to call out this bullshit for what it is.

And since this is the topic of this post, I'm also annoyed by how Horikoshi unfairly favored the heroes with a blatant lack of consequences for their actions and stakes overall while the villains suffered from them at every corner. Not by the heroes winning a conflict they were obviously going to win at the end...

"Villains who caused the mass destruction in Japan, which in turn cause harm to the public."

Which doesn't change anything to my point. Yes the LoV committed atrocious crimes across the plot, it's undeniable. But the thing is it isn't the point, the question wasn't about whether they should be forgiven or if they deserved a redemption. Hell Tomura, Toya or Toga never even asked for that to begin with, none of them seeked forgiveness (at least not for killing people).

Their entire point was about them being saved by Deku, Shoto and Toga, this was literally their arc but they weren't. Horikoshi can sugarcoat that with all the "Toga was truly happy thanks to Ochako", "Toya got to reunite with his family" or "Tomura got his soul saved by Deku", it's just narrative gaslighting.

Despite all his speeches about trying to understand and rescue Tomura, Deku didn't save him. Worst, he never made a proper plan to save Tomura or tried to talk with him despite this being literally his goal for weeks

The only thing Deku did during the final arc was beating the shit out of him so hard his body crumbled to dust. That and taking a look at his backstory...

Toya spending some time with his family is sweet but it would have been way more coherent if Horikoshi wrote an ending where he was actually saved by them like they textually intended to. Instead of painfully keeping him alive for a few years before passing out offscreen...

As for Toga, I'm pretty sure that suicide doesn't count as "being saved" either, even if it's to save someone you care about.

"I see your point and I truly wanted the Lov to live but they already redeemed themselves by saving the people they care about.

Except again, that was never the point, this story wasn't a redemption one about a group of "evil" characters trying to be better and actually doing so by sacrificing themselves at the end.

It was a story about a new generation of heroes learning from the mistakes of the previous one and improving society by saving villains instead of just beating them to a pulp (something textually framed as wrong many times) among other things.

But again, it just didn't happen. None of them were saved.

"Toga bleeding to death trying to save Ochako not because she scared of Tartarus"

Meanwhile Toga a few instants before sacrificing herself

"because she finally have someone who understands her and sees her. A friend."

And because from her own admission, she knew dying was still better than rotting her whole life in prison, even with Ochako for friend.

"Shigaraki is free from AFO control. Cool."

And he died like 15 seconds afterwards due to Deku beating him into dust so it may just be me but I don't get how he's supposed to be free now.

"No concrete proof that villaint will murder innocent people. Didn't Dabi confessed on the live TV that he killed 30 peoples include innocent people?"

This point concerned Twice, why are you switching the subject on Dabi ?

"The hero shouldn't kill the villain but the villain can kill the hero?"

When your job is literally neutralizing criminals without killing them, that you can effortlessly subdue them at any point and that they are trying to run away, yes stabbing them in the back is rationally not justified, in addition to being also outright fucked up.

"I can't take the logic because look at Batman and Joker."

Yes and Batman isn't in the wrong for not murdering him. I've already had this debate hundreds of times, I won't refute the same eternal bs arguments once again.

"Eye for an eye."

Believe it or not but most modern societies have evolved over the last few centuries beyond this childish and stupid approach of justice.

Also for someone who truly wanted the LoV to live, it's strange that you're reasoning exactly like the people who wanted them dead.

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, she’d let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, , with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn”t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[miaoua3]

Be My Sin.

Pairing: priest!joshua x stripper!f!reader

Genre: smut (MDNI), piv sex, oral sex (f! receiving), religious trauma/inner conflict, slight angst from joshua’s side (thoughts about regret, religion and such), stripper x priest, virgin! joshua

Warnings: mentions of r@pe and p€dophilia as the reason why joshua’s faith in god is wavering, and once again, smut (MDNI)

Description: after years of being a priest, joshua starts questioning his faith in god after receiving some upsetting news. what was supposed to be a walk to clear his mind ends up being a walk straight to his most delicious sin-you.

Note: THIS IS FOR MY POOKS EAT UP HOE (also keep in mind that a lot of thoughts on religion may or may not reflect my own thoughts about it lol). another note: i really said porn WITH plot lmao this one is looong boys, buckle up.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

it must’ve been two hours already since the bartender slid a whiskey neat across the counter and towards joshua. and for the past two hours, joshua has just been staring at the glass and how the low light of the bar has been reflecting in the dark liquor, thinking if he should give into the temptation and break his promise that he made to god, or if he should just get up and leave.

in the 12 years of his life as a priest, joshua has never been more confused, angry and scared like he has been since he heard the news this morning.

joshua takes ahold of the glass and spins it around, and just….thinks.

should he or should he not?

at this point, the whiskey has gone warm, probably not even in the drinkable state anymore, but he wouldn’t care about it.

as long as it makes him forget this whole day today, he’s willing to down even poison.

being betrayed by a friend always hurt him the most. it’s sad, really, feeling pity and disappointment towards the people you once felt nothing but love and affection for.

but this…this is much more than just betrayal.

this is his friend going against everything they have been taught while on their path to become priests.

his friend since childhood, who inspired him to do better and devote his life to spirituality, who guided him towards being a better person.

he was charged with sexual assault of a young girl.

she is only 7 years old.

a bile starts rising up joshua’s throat the more he thinks about it, how he trusted him and saw him as some form of a hero. and so, before he can even think about it, in hopes that it will stop him from indecency that is puking in the bar, joshua picks up the glass and downs the whiskey in one, breaking his sobriety of almost 15 years.

the liquor burns his throat, the aftertaste on his tongue not all that pleasant, it actually makes him scrunch his face in disgust.

joshua then raises a hand and orders another one.

and another one.

and another one.

he stops counting how many he orders after that.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

joshua is stumbling over his feet as he drunkenly walks on the side walk, observing the pretty city lights and cars as they pass him by. he isn’t sure where he’s headed, letting his absent mind take him wherever it wants.

after the bartender called the last call, he thought that a walk would help him clear his mind. so, after paying for all his drinks, he just…started walking. and he hasn’t stopped for an hour now.

he stumbles as he tries to stop and look at the window of a shop that sells mostly technology, a bunch of tv’s on display behind the window.

he stops to look at whatever ads are being shown on the screen, vision blurry and hazy due to the insane amount of alcohol that is in his blood right now.

his eyebrows immediately scrunch in pain at the pictures that are being shown to him, his hand unconsciously coming up to rub his chest right where his heart is over his black shirt.

bunch of children just running around in slow motion, happy smiles and missing teeth the only things joshua’s mind can focus on.

this is what children should look like, happy and carefree. how could anyone even think about doing things so atrocious and vile to them, like he did? how can anyone harm the ones who least deserve it, who are nothing but pure and innocent?

there’s nothing joshua loved more than when children would come up to him after the sermons and talk to him, seeing children being so curious and mildly confused about the complex that is a religion. it always made him so happy to explain them the things they would ask about in the most simplistic way possible, sometimes even struggling to find the right words to explain things as to not make them even more confused.

seeing the good in people, especially in the young ones, always made his heart swell up with hope and love towards them.

now he isn’t even sure if there’s any hope left in his heart, only rage and hurt floating on the surface of it.

he watches the tv’s for another minute or so, overcome by the thoughts of the terrible day that he it has been today, from the moment he got the news this morning, him struggling to get through the morning sermon, turning away people that wanted to go to the confessionals to him and get the heavy stuff off their hearts, all the way to him downing the alcohol as if it were water.

finally turning away from the window of the shop, joshua attempts to start walking again, stumbling only minimally, only to come to a stop yet again as a wave of nausea hits him.

his hand shots out automatically to grab onto the street light, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on not spilling out his guts right on the middle of the sidewalk.

he’s taking deep breaths in and out when he hears some loud voices from across the street, drunken laughter mixed with it. he opens his eyes to look at what it might be.

a tall old building stares back at him, the bottom part littered with glaring neon signs, one in particular catching his attention. a silhouette of a woman in a martini glass, one leg kicked up to show off her high heel, hands thrown in the air as to signify that she’s having a good time.

huh. a strip club.

normal and sober joshua would never admit this out loud-or while alive for that matter, considering his profession- but he was always a bit curious about strip clubs. naturally, he has met his fair share of sex workers, he even helped a few of them get from troublesome situations where they were being threatened or abused, always ready to help anyone in need regardless of their background and/or profession.

he has never been in one though, as he had no reason to go.

his bloody eyes watch as a white convertible rolls up to the club, parks and turns the lights off. and then, like some sort of angel, steps out what he can only describe as the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on, all short skirts and tops, hair swishing around as she turns her head while she locks the doors of her car, before she proceeds to walk up the stairs and inside the building, disappearing as easily as she appeared.

joshua swallows harshly, unsure if his throat is dry due to the hot summer night that he finds himself in or because of the woman that just made him realise that heaven was more than just a place that he will officially never see.

before he can rationalise his thoughts, his legs start moving all on their own, walking across the street (and almost getting hit by a car that he didn’t see in the process) and through the door of the strip club.

he never had a reason to go inside a place like this, right?

well, one reason was just found.

he struggles as he walks through that type of curtain that is made out of beedy tussles, almost choking himself with one as he tries to get it out of his face.

the scene in front of him makes him freeze in his place, gulping heavily due to unfamiliarity of it all.

in the centre laid a stage in a shape of a martini glass, just like in the front. on both sides of the stage there were many leather chairs, the kind that you can just hear squeaking under your ass simply by looking at it. a part of the stage was covered by red curtains, the type that you can just tell are heavy and velvety to the touch. above that, on the wall, hung another neon sign.

angel’s heaven.

how ironic.

joshua walks to the left, where a bar with a few busy bartenders can be seen, patiently waiting on his turn to order.

before you ask- only water for him from now on.

he wants to remember everything he’s about to see.

as he waits, he can feel the people judgementally looking at him because of the uniform that he has yet to give a fuck about, the roman collar poking at his neck even after years of wearing it, the black shirt and pants making him look at least a bit presentable.

when his turn finally comes, he orders himself a water, drowning it in one go before he shyly asks for another glass.

as he pushes through the mass of people, he finally comes to where the leather chairs are. he decides to stay standing as it gives him a much better view of the stage.

just as he was turning his head left and right to look around, joshua notices the lights dimming around him and shining brighter on the stage, making it the main point of the room.

suddenly, some sexy jazz music starts playing, the kind where you find yourself imitating the sound of the trumpets. the red curtains get pulled to the sides harshly, revealing 4 figures behind it.

only then is the setup shown to the audience, the neon sign outside making much more sense now that joshua can see two gigantic martini glasses with a stepping stool on sides of it. in between them there are two tall poles.

joshua watches as two women on the ends carefully yet sexily climb the stepping stools so they can get into the martini glasses, making the liquid inside it splash on the sides. while they are trying their best to make it as sexy as possible to get into gigantic glasses, another two women present themselves to the public, wearing lacy and ever so sexily red lingerie.

men around him start to whistle and cheer, the one closest to the stage already throwing dollar bills at them, but joshua can only focus on one of the women that is on one of the poles, swaying her body, hips and hair to the jazzy rhythm.

you. the woman from earlier.

the reason for his sin.

he watches carefully as you wrap one leg around the pole, spinning gently and artistically, your hair swishing behind you. he gulps when you stop spinning, only to get down on your knees and let yourself to sort of dive into the floor, your chest touching the floor, your position giving the audience a beautiful view of your ass cladded in the red lacy panties.

joshua isn't sure if the other woman next to you is doing the same moves as you because his eyes, mind and desires are solely focused on you, but by the cheers of the men, he can only guess that she is.

he continues to watch with a weird feeling climbing up his stomach as you pull yourself back up, staying on your knees as you tilt your head back and play with your hair, your tits moving up and down as you intentionally inhale and exhale extra hard, slowly bouncing on your knees.

you then get back up to your feet-still as sexily as possible-your smile blinding the men in the chairs, and joshua too. you turn around to give men an even better view of your ass as you sway it to the music.

joshua has to remind himself to breathe again, air trapped inside his throat, only noticing it due to getting a bit lightheaded.

but that just might be the alcohol.

or you.

the cheers continue as you and your partner spin on the poles, throwing money and words like ''yeah baby, spin that ass! take that bra off!'', making joshua only mildly uneasy and annoyed, maybe even a bit jealous.

the show continues for half an hour, closer to 40 minutes, and joshua watches you and only you the entire time. at the end, you and the other stripper do the last spins before you slowly come to the stop, slowly stepping on your feet as the music cuts off.

the cheerful screams suddenly turn into those of slight disappointment as the two women (who joshua hasn't even looked at once) step out of the big martini glasses, to join you and your partner for the final bow. while you wait, you scan the crowd for the potential customers for one-on-one sessions, smiling and waving a bit to the ends who scream for you, when you suddenly notice in the far back, watching you with mouth agape, the most beautiful face you have ever seen illuminated under the neon lights of the club, his cheeks noticeably rosy even from a distance.

and then you notice his attire.

huh. a priest.

how ironic.

as you smile at him, both with certain gentleness and sinisterness, joshua's heart drops to his feet.

oh how much fun are you going to have with him.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

joshua never walked faster in his life, tripping tipsily over his legs as he reaches the bar he ordered his water from.

the second he’s in front of a bartender, he’s slamming his hand against the bar to balance himself up, and with desperate eyes asking the bartender “how do i get into the vip? are there private sessions with the dancers? private rooms maybe? how much would something like that cost? actually never mind, i’d pay however much it costs-“.

the bartender just looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for joshua to realise that his rambling is a bit distasteful as well as embarrassing.

as it registers in his brain just how judgementally the bartender is looking at him, making him blush a little in embarrassment, shyly whispering “I apologise”.

seeing that he’s finished with the rambling, the bartender explains “there is vip section but that is for groups of 4 or more, so i’m guessing you are not interested in that.”

joshua just nods along, waiting for him to get to the part that he wants to hear about.

the bartender then continues “we also have private rooms for one-on-one sessions. you can pick the dancer, but if they’re busy with another customer or with the vip section, you can either wait for them to be done or request another dancer.-“

having heard enough, joshua interrupts him “is the pretty dancer-the-the one on the right pole-is she free? nobody booked her already, right?"

the bartender yet again gives joshua an are you serious right now? look, prompting joshua to look down bashfully, mumbling yet another "i apologise", scratching the back of his neck due to the awkwardness that has ensued.

seeing that he can speak freely again, the bartender continues "yes she is free, would you like me to book you a session with her?"

joshua nods enthusiastically, eyes shining brightly both due to the alcohol and excitement.

after paying for a double session, joshua follows the instructions given by the bartender and walks straight ahead until he reaches a hallway, where he turns right and enters the third door on the left side.

the room is isolated from top to bottom in some sort of leather material, probably as a way to sound proof the room of...everything and anything that might go on in it. in the centre of the room, there is a black, circular table with a pole going right through it. right in front of it stood a noticeably low black leather chair, intended for the customers, joshua assumes.

with unsure steps, joshua walks over to the chair before he takes a seat, looking around and observing the very weird room.

suddenly, the door that he has just walked through open, revealing your beautiful self wrapped in a silky white robe. joshua's breath catches in his throat upon seeing the sight in front of him, how beautiful you look so up close, how you radiate absolute confidence and effortless sexiness.

you look down at the chair only to see joshua in it, a smirk immediately appearing on your face.

"well aren't you a fast one, father. or should i say...", you pause for a moment to take a few more steps and grab the chair, leaning across the chair until your lips are right by his ear, the smirk spreading by every passing second.

"...daddy?", you finish, barely containing your cackling.

joshua just makes a face of disgust, if you were to look up the definition of the word "ew", you'd see his face right next to it instead of a complicated sentence.

expressing as much, joshua ushers out "ew, no, don't call me that, that's just- yeah no.", finishing his rant with a full body shiver.

cackling at his reaction, you proceed to walk over to the table. before sitting down on it, you quickly take off your robe and throw it somewhere to the side, beyond caring about it this far in your career.

joshua gulps as he sees you sitting on the table right in front of him, your red heel grazing his pants as you go to cross it. he tries really reaaally hard not to look at your exposed skin and how the lingerie clings to your skin. force of habit maybe? or maybe he's clinging onto the little hope he had left in himsef.

chuckling at his behaviour, how skittish he was, wiggling around his chair and looking away, all while redness greeted his cute cheeks, you start questioning him.

"so, father, what brings you here?", you tilt your head as you look at him, waiting for an answer.

joshua finally looks back at you, making it very evident that he's focusing on your face only. gulping yet again, he answers "just...thought i'd come and see what a-a place like thi-this would look like-", but before he can finish the sentence, you interrupt him.

"that's not what i meant."

joshua looks startled and confused, looking at you questioningly.

smiling a little at him, you stand up before him and come closer, your legs parting his own. joshua's eyes bulge out of its sockets so much that they look like they're about to fall out any second. his eyes follow the silhouette of your body-starting at the legs, and how glowy and shiny they looked under the blue light of the room. next were the hips that were right in front of his face. joshua had to swallow harshly as he eyed the red underwear hugging your lower body-the lacy material, how see-through it was. unintentionally he paid extra attention to your tummy and how cute it looked to him-somehow it made you look more human.

finally, his eyes skim over your tits, just briefly however, before he finally comes to look you in the eyes again.

you smile at his flustered expression, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear. using the free space between his legs, you place on of your knees there, his half hard crotch already pressing against it. grabbing the chair right by where joshua's head is, ever so slowly you lean in until your noses are almost touching.

with your eyes locked now, you whisper in the little space between you two.

"what are you doing here, in my room?"

it takes joshua a bit to find his words due to being absolutely and incandescently in awe of you. his eyes are flying all over your face, taking in your beauty. if somebody were to watch the scene unfold from the sidelines, they would think that joshua might be in love.

with earnestness swimming in his eyes, he looks you directly in the eyes as he stutters out "because you are the most beautiful woman i have ever seen in my life. i just...i had to."

his response evidently stunts you, because the gentle smile from your lips slowly fades away, something between amazement and dumbstruck appearing in your eyes instead.

nobody has ever said something so...nice to me.

and you look. you look and you search in his eyes. for doubt. for earnestness. for honesty.

placing a hand on his cheek, you whisper ever so quietly.

"i'm going to kiss you now."

not giving him the time to overthink it, you lean in and gently kiss his lips. joshua, in return, starts feeling like he's having a heart attack, but doesn't pull away.

only a fool would pull away from the most beautiful women's kiss.

once you let your kiss naturally fall apart, joshua just blinks at you, his whole face red and his eyes as big as saucers.

you place the other hand on his other cheek as well, leaning your forehead against his. rubbing his cheeks to calm him down, you whisper "touch me, don't be shy" before you kiss his pouty lips again.

the man in question responds to your kisses but makes it evident that he's a bit unsure, a bit scared, and that he's letting you take control and lead the pace of the kiss.

after a minute or so of your kissing, of your tongue invading his mouth, of gently biting his lower lip to tease him and so that you can hear that little noise of surprise leaving his mouth, joshua finally places his hands on the back of your thighs-gently, of course. instead of grabbing them and using his hold to pull you onto his lap like you want him to, he just...hold them there, kind of like he's supporting them in case they might give out beneath you.

not liking this, you bite his lip again, this time a bit harder, sort of as a warning, before you pull away to look him in the eyes as you say one word only. one word that will unravel the true beast within him.

"harder."

just like a light switch, something changes in his eyes, before he grabs the back of your thighs harshly and leaning back in to kiss you like a starved man would.

his kiss is bruising, and it hurts you so good-the way his lips perfectly wrap around your own, the way his tongue dances and battles for dominance against your own, the way his hand squeeze and release your thighs periodically.

everything he does hurts you so good and deliciously.

sensing that you leaning down like this might be a bit uncomfortable for you, he uses his hold on your legs to pull you towards him, making you straddle him.

getting his cue, you oblige happily, sitting yourself on his lap, maybe but just maybe wiggling a bit on his lap to tease him, which seems to go exactly according to your plan. his hands immediately grab onto your bare ass, squeezing so hard, like he's trying to ground himself, to anchor himself, all while moaning directly in your mouth.

being naturally moved by his hands on your body, you unconsciously start rocking your hips back and forth, making joshua squeeze your ass cheeks even harder, to an almost bruising degree.

suddenly, a thought strikes you like a lighting making you part your lips with the man beneath you.

joshua just looks at you, somewhat scared, somewhat questioningly. but before he can start puking out all of his questions, you tilt your head to the side as you ask him.

"i never asked for your name, and i imagine you wouldn't like me calling you father the entire time, so. what is it?"

joshua just blinks for a few seconds before he answers "joshua, my name is joshua."

you smile at his words before you grab the back of his hair, making the man drop his mouth open as he moans at your action.

smirking directly against his lips, you compliment him "good boy", before you are kissing him to the degree of insanity.

using the newfound knowledge that pulling his hair does it for him, you use the hold on his hair to push and pull his head in directions that you want him to so you can kiss him under all the possible degrees there are. tilting his head to the left, you let your tongue battle against his own. he tries to put up a fight, but inevitably loses the moment you pull his hair even more.

somewhere between the minutes of being lost in your kisses, joshua starts rocking his own hips upwards, right into your barely covered crotch. just as he realises what he's doing and is about to pull away and apologise, you moan needily in his mouth, pressing your hips stronger against his own.

finally having had enough of his gentlemen-ess, you grab one of his hands from your ass only to push it in your own underwear.

joshua gasps at the action, blushing like crazy. looking you directly in the eyes, you just respond to his visible doubt.

"stop being a gentlemen and fuck me already."

....well.

still holding back a bit, joshua starts off slowly, rubbing his fingers over....something. considering that he has never done any of this, joshua is proud of himself for even being in this position in general. he always thought that...sex will always remain an unexplored territory, considering that he's a priest and all.

having sensed that joshua has never fingered a woman ever, you pull back, using his knees to balance your hands on.

looking him directly in the eyes, you order him with all seriousness.

"take my panties off."

joshua looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights for a second, before he looks down at your underwear just as confused, wondering how he's supposed to take them off while you are still sitting on his lap.

rolling eyes a bit at this, you help the poor man by adding "rip them off."

cue more startled looking at you.

gently taking the sides of your underwear, joshua exhales before he harshly pulls on the red fabric. it ends up ripping much easier than he thought it would.

huh. maybe he was stronger than he previously thought. or maybe the underwear was just that flimsy.

having been freed of the panties, you come to crowd his personal space again, taking his hand in yours again, making sure to keep the eye contact with him.

"okay, welcome to 'how to finger a woman 101' class. it's not hard math, you just have to know that every woman is different and likes different things, as well as that there are things all women like."

joshua furrows his eyebrows, if this were a cartoon, a question mark would start flying around his head just about now.

instead of explaining what all those things could be, you just bring his hand back to your pussy. you make his fingers spread you open, showing him where the magic happens.

hoarsely, you say against his lips "now i'll teach you what i like."

joshua, ever the good boy, just nods his head, his eyes wide and mouth agape as he exhales shakily.

taking over his fingers and keeping yourself open for him, you nod downwards, to your glossy and wet pussy.

"see the little bundle of top?", joshua looks down and nods when he notices the bundle in question, gulping at the sight beneath him, fingers and mouth itching to get them on you.

"rub it. gently."

joshua's eyes search for permission in your own for a second, only starting once you nod.

he uses his point and middle finger to gently and slowly rub circles on your clit, watching out for your reactions. you exhale slowly, eyes automatically closing the longer he goes on,

"put more pressure. and a bit faster."

as if he were your servant, joshua obliges immediately.

your moans are all the validation he needs, enjoying how it rings in the shell of his ear, how pretty they sound. like a tune that he himself is making.

gradually and mindlessly, joshua applies even more pressure and starts going faster, getting lost in your pretty noises and lust-filled air. he doesn't even know when he starts, but suddenly he notices that his lips are on your neck, licking, kissing and sucking on the skin there.

your moans get louder, which is exactly what joshua wanted. you're getting so lost in the pleasure that you feel the need to grab onto something, or else you fear you might fly away. you search for something to hold on, only finding his hair in return.

pulling on it harshly makes joshua moan loudly against the skin of your neck, his fingers rubbing your clit even harsher, even faster.

"don't stop."

you pull his head even closer, moaning away in his ear, curses and his name mixed with it the faster you approach your end. joshua, in return, doesn't stop what he's doing, just like you tell him. his lips bite your neck harshly, some sort of animalistic urge to mark you, to make you his taking over his mind.

legs squeezing around his, spasming and shaking as you're reaching your orgasm, you almost scream in his ear "fuck! don't sto-ah, i'm cumming, i'm cumm-"

you never get to finish that sentence as your finish interrupts you. throwing your head back, you pull on joshua's hair so harshly he fears he might lose the hair you are pulling on like a maniac.

riding through your orgasm, joshua finally starts slowing down when he notices you running away from his touch. figuring you have came, he finally stops, eyes immediately looking for your approval and review.

forehead coated in sweat, skin glistening, eyes still shut in pleasure-joshua thinks this might be the most beautiful sight he has ever witnessed.

opening your eyes, you smile at his cute expression, with red cheeks and sparkly eyes.

ready to give him a response, you pull his face towards your own, kissing him passionately, relaxing in his hold the moment his arms wrap themselves around your waist.

parting your lips, your hand gently grabs his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

looking him directly in the eyes, so he know you mean every word you're about to say, you praise him.

"good boy."

your words setting him off, he immediately goes back in to kiss you, to eat you alive. grabbing your thighs, joshua then stands up while holding you, making you gasp in his mouth.

he lays you not-so gently on the table in front of him (not that you are complainig, you are loving this rough and wild joshua), his mouth biting your lower lip harshly. your nails imbed themselves in his back, pulling on his shirt, trying to pull it off him.

being sick of his own shirt, joshua pulls away to quickly take it off, revealing a surprisingly ripped and muscular build of his.

your breath catches in your throat, mouth salivating to get your hands on him.

grabbing the front of his pants, you pull him harshly towards you. taken aback by this move, joshua falls over you, luckily reflexes coming in handy and using his hands to catch himself and not squish you beneath his weight.

you immediately grab his face and pull him back for a wild kiss, his tongue responding enthusiastically to your own entering his mouth. and his hands? oh they have a mind of their own. grabbing your thighs and hiking them up against his hips, before they shamelessly grab your tits, squeezing them over the red material of your bra.

wanting- no, needing to feel them bare, joshua pulls away for a second in favour of ripping your bra from your body, snapping the front of before he pushes it aside.

his mouth immediately wrap themselves around your right nipple, sucking on them like an animal.

you arch your back at the contact, hands grabbing onto his hair harshly as you moan loudly.

letting the boy have his fun for about a minute, enjoying the way he's sucking on your tit, how he lets himself go and bite the skin of it, marking it with the imprint of his teeth. you let him have his fun for about two minutes before you are pulling his hair harshly until his face is in front of your own.

exhaling against his lips, you utter.

"fuck me. now."

normally joshua would kill to do as you say. normally. but the urge to get his lips on your sweet little pussy wins over that.

without answering you, he lowers himself until he is face to face with your lower body, eyes trained to focus on you.

his breath that leaves his mouth grazes the skin of your pussy, goosebumps appearing on your skin as it does.

eyes filled with desire, he says the words that will come to haunt your dreams for years to come.

"teach me how you want it. how you like it."

and then his mouth is on you, starving as ever. his lips-it's like he's trying to make out with your pussy, not afraid of getting messy, his spit dripping down. sucking on the clit, his eyes focus on your face for a reaction. your back arch the longer he keeps sucking and kissing you down there.

hands grabbing onto his hair, you pull onto his hair, almost as if you are trying to get more of him, to get him deeper inside of you.

getting your cue, he lets his tongue prod and explore your entrance for a bit, before he let it fully enter your hole, swirling it around, gathering your taste on it so he can taste you as he swallows.

seeing by your moans that you like it, he replaces his tongue with one finger, slowly pushing it inside of you.

throwing your head back at the feeling of fullness, you moan at the way he pushes the finger in and out of you, slowly twisting it each time. while he fingers you, joshua focuses his lips back again on sucking on your clit, using his tongue to flick it before he wraps his lips around it and suck it.

distinctly joshua registers you moaning "more", which he immediately responds with pushing another finger inside of you.

he keeps on going in a relentless pace, fingers pushing inside of you faster than they pull outside of you. while his fingers are working you, his mouth focuses more on his own pleasure, drinking your juices as if they were honey.

you let him eat you out for a few minutes, let him work out another orgasm out of you. but not only that-you let yourself enjoy, actually enjoy being with a man. a man who, presumingly, has never touched a woman this way before yet does a better job in satisfying you than all those fuck ass, try-hard man in power who only care about themselves.

a man who makes you feel like a woman.

feeling yourself reaching the finish faster than before, you forcefully pull his head, ignoring his hissing in pain, until his mouth are kissing your lips this time.

although his mouth aren't on you anymore, his fingers certainly are, still pushing inside of you at the relentless pace. you basically have to moan out "you had your fun, now fuck me", because joshua certainly wasn't stopping.

seeing as he was almost in a trance, eyes glossy and hazy, you take the situation in your own hands. literally.

grabbing the hem of his pants, you feel his front up in order to find the zipper, feeling up joshua's bulge in the process. finally feeling it, you pull it down to your best abilities, considering that joshua is distracting you with his kisses.

you pull harshly on his pants, just wanting them off of his sexy ass (that you felt up in the process of getting rid of his pants-nice and juicy, you must admit). with his pants you also pull down his black underwear, his dick jumping out freely.

you push joshua's chest a bit so you can actually look down and see his dick.

to say that you are very pleasantly surprised is an understatement. his cock is so...beautiful. with a pinkish tip, it slightly curves to the right. although not the thickest one you have seen, he's still definitely up there, with his size as well.

you take him and you pump him a few times, smiling widely the way joshua's pretty moans fly out of his mouth involuntarily.

guiding his cock to where you need him the most, you hear joshua exhale shakily. in excitement or fear, is the only question.

you put your hand on his cheek, making him focus back on you. looking at him with gentle eyes, you try to reassure him a bit.

"it's okay, if you don't want to, you can still walk away, baby. it'd be a shame, considering i don't see a face this pretty in here that often, never mind between my legs."

joshua weighs his options for a few seconds, but deep deep down, in his soul, he knows what the right answer it.

he has sinned plenty already today, what's one more?

and with that thought, he grabs the base of his cock and starts pushing inside.

after a minute or so, you both moan in unison as he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. joshua has to take a moment to recollect himself and pray to god that he doesn't cum right there right that second with how much you are squeezing him.

your long nails claw at his naked back, sure to leave scratches for tomorrow to be seen. the way he fills you up, the way he makes you feel full and good. it's a little too much for you, it makes you want him even more, and you want him now.

pushing your heels against his ass, you signal to him to start moving which he does.

he starts off slow, taking his time, like he wants to remember it all, to remember you. he rocks his hips against your own so deliciously, you can't help but let the moans escape you.

gradually, he fastens his pace until he catches a rhythm that suits you both, skin slapping the only sound in the room besides your panting and moans.

he masters the moves pretty quickly, his moves rolling more so than hammering, just like how you like it.

his tip keeps on hitting your sweet spot over and over again, the tension in your tummy starting to slowly build again because of it after a few minutes of him going at it.

joshua notices how you start to squeeze more tightly around his cock, how you are trying to milk him dry-and succeeding, by the looks of it.

naturally, he starts going faster, until he's just chasing his high. his hips slam against your asscheeks, leaving the skin red and tender to each following contact of his hips.

the entire time he's fucking you, joshua is either attempting to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth and all, or he's just keeping them there, touching your own as he's moaning and groaning.

his sounds make you go insane, from him moaning while saying "pussy so good" to groaning out a "god, fuck" every now and then.

it all messes with your head.

it all makes you want him to cum. now.

you hug his shoulders and brace your heels against his back, trying everything to keep him as close as possible. your mouth end up right by his ear, moaning one thing over and over again.

"cum for me."

joshua chases both your and his high, holding back from giving you what you want until you cum first.

your pleasure first, then his.

he wants you to milk him dry as he's cumming, not a second earlier or later.

he keeps on fucking you, repeatedly hitting your spot until you scream "i'm cumming!" right into his ear. you squeeze around him so tightly that it triggers his own orgasm, spilling inside of you, coating your walls white in his cum.

he groans as he finishes inside of you, riding out both your orgasms, his hands clawing at your thighs, pulling you closer until his balls are right against your ass.

once he feels that he's overstimulating both himself and you, he stops, but he makes no move to pull out, letting himself fall on top of you instead.

for a minute or so, you two just breathe as you hold each other, his face buried in your neck with his eyes closed, blissfully basking in the glory of the post-orgasm.

once you regain your breath, you post a question that only a fool would say no to.

"wanna go again?"

[daydreamabout]

Worst Behaviour [ Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Being on patrol with the person you date, can lead to a different behaviour.

The Los Angeles skyline gleamed under the fading sun, the golden hour casting long shadows over the city streets. Inside the LAPD patrol car, the low hum of the radio was the only sound, aside from the occasional click of Tim's pen as he filled out a report. Beside him, Y/N sat with her usual easy confidence, her eyes scanning the streets as she kept an alert watch on their surroundings. It had been a few weeks since they’d finally acknowledged what had been building between them for months. They were now an official couple, but the last thing they wanted was to broadcast it at work. The two of them were partners in every sense of the word—professionally, yes, but personally as well. They had agreed to keep things lowkey, for the sake of their careers and the dynamics of the team.

But the moment they were in the patrol car together, everything felt natural. They were comfortable, relaxed in each other’s presence. Tim found himself sneaking glances at her more often than he should, his heart warming when she caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile. However, the ease of their relationship didn’t erase the fierce protectiveness Tim felt over Y/N. It wasn’t anything new—he’d always had her back, but now, with the added layer of them being together, it felt like an instinct he couldn’t control.

"Tim, check out that guy," Y/N suddenly said, her voice low but firm. She was pointing at a man leaning against a streetlight on a corner, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his posture tense as if he were waiting for something—or someone. Tim’s eyes immediately locked onto the man, his instincts kicking in. His body tensed, hands tightening on the wheel. He had a gut feeling about the guy, and it wasn’t good.

“Stay alert,” Tim said, his tone clipped. "Let’s swing around and see if we can get a closer look."

Y/N noticed the shift in his mood. He was always serious about his work, but there was something different today—something protective and more intense. She didn’t question him, though. She knew that Tim’s instincts were usually right. They took the next turn, looping around the block to get a better vantage point. As they approached the man again, Tim slowed the car, scanning the area. But the guy had noticed them, his posture shifting, and now, he was walking toward the alleyway. “Tim, be careful,” Y/N warned, her hand instinctively hovering near her gun holster.

“I know what I’m doing,” he muttered, his jaw tightening as he brought the car to a stop a little too abruptly. His protective instincts were kicking in full force, and he didn’t realize just how close to the edge he was getting. Without waiting for a word from Y/N, Tim threw the car into park and opened the door. His instincts were screaming at him, urging him to approach the suspect. Y/N quickly followed suit, but as she stepped out of the car, Tim was already several paces ahead, moving toward the man with a determined stride.

"Hey, stop!" Tim called, his voice loud, authoritative.

The man turned, eyes narrowing as he saw the two officers approaching. His hands were still in his pockets, but there was a flicker of tension in his stance. He wasn’t giving them anything.

“Tim, wait up!” Y/N called out, her voice a little sharper now as she moved to catch up with him. But he was already too far into the moment, too fixated on the situation. He didn’t wait for her. As he got closer, the suspect made a sudden move, and Tim reacted instinctively, stepping forward and grabbing the man’s arm. He spun him around, slamming him against the brick wall of the alley.

“Tim!” Y/N shouted, her heart racing. She was there in an instant, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him back. “Let him go!”

But Tim was in full mode now, his emotions getting the better of him. “Stay back, Y/N,” he snapped, his grip tightening around the suspect’s arm. “This guy is up to something.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she reached for his shoulder, trying to get him to focus. “Tim, he’s not resisting! You’re escalating this.”

“Just let me do my job,” he muttered under his breath, still not fully registering the way his tone had shifted. Before things could get any worse, Y/N stepped in front of Tim, placing herself between him and the suspect. She was calm, collected, but there was an unmistakable firmness in her voice. “I said let him go.”

Tim’s eyes flickered from the suspect to Y/N, and for a moment, there was hesitation in his gaze. The protective instinct that had overridden his reason slowly started to dissipate, but not without a few seconds of tension. The suspect, sensing the shift, quickly pulled away and started to back off, his hands still raised, signaling he wasn’t a threat—at least, for now. Y/N turned to her partner, her face a mix of frustration and concern. "You can’t do that. Not here, not like that. You can’t let your emotions control you on the job."

Tim’s chest heaved with a mixture of adrenaline and regret. He realized now that he’d crossed a line. “I just… I couldn’t let him—"

“I know,” Y/N said, cutting him off. She softened her tone, but there was still a firmness there. “But you can’t let your guard down like that. We have to work together, and that means trusting each other to keep things in check.”

Tim looked at her, his face serious. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t help myself.”

Before she could respond, the sound of a car approaching made them both turn their heads. Sergeant Grey’s patrol car slid to a stop nearby, and he stepped out with his usual no-nonsense demeanor. His eyes flickered between Tim and Y/N, then to the suspect, who had quickly moved out of sight.

"Bradford," Sergeant Grey called, his voice gruff. "A word, please."

Tim’s stomach dropped. He could already tell this wasn’t going to be a friendly conversation.

“Yeah, Sarge?” Tim asked, trying to hide the guilt in his tone.

“Inside. Now,” Sergeant Grey snapped.

Tim exchanged a glance with Y/N. She didn’t say anything, but there was a look of silent understanding between them. She knew this was coming. Tim had let his protectiveness go too far again, and now he was going to have to answer for it.

---

A few minutes later, he sat in Sergeant Grey’s office, the door closed behind him. Sergeant Grey’s piercing eyes were on him as he leaned against his desk, arms crossed.

"You need to understand something, Bradford," Grey began, his voice cold but not without a hint of concern. “You can’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgment on the job. Y/N’s not just your partner. She’s your coworker, and you both need to be able to trust each other in dangerous situations. You’re the senior officer here. You need to lead by example.”

Tim swallowed, nodding. “I know, Sarge. I got carried away. She's just-”

“Everyone’s important to you, Bradford,” Grey interrupted. “That’s part of the job. But if you let your emotions take over every time someone even looks at your partner the wrong way, you’re going to make mistakes. You’ve got to keep your head in the game.”

Tim lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of his actions. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Sergeant Grey softened slightly. “I’m not here to punish you, Bradford. But I don’t want to see this happen again. You’ve got a good partner in Y/N. Don’t let your personal feelings turn into a liability for both of you.”

Tim nodded again. “Understood, Sarge.”

---

Later that evening, as the patrol ended and the shift came to a close, Tim and Y/N walked to their car together in silence. The weight of the conversation with Sergeant Grey hung in the air, but neither of them spoke about it right away. They were still processing the incident—Tim, especially, feeling the weight of having crossed a line. Finally, Y/N spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting his. Tim ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Just... I messed up, Y/N. I shouldn’t have let my emotions take control like that.”

She gave him a small, understanding smile. “We’ve both been there. But just remember, we’ve got each other’s backs, no matter what. And we’ll handle things together.”

His heart softened at her words, the tension easing in his chest. “Thanks. I’ll do better.”

Y/N reached out, lightly touching his arm. “I know you will. Just… remember to breathe, okay?”

Tim chuckled softly, the weight of the situation lifting just a little. “I’ll try.”

And as they got in the car and drove off into the night, the bond between them felt stronger than ever—two partners, not just in their work, but in everything.

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Warnings: Smut (18+), fingering (f receiving), slightly rough foreplay, hand job (m receiving), nudity, intercourse (p in v), swearing.

For the first time all week you were alone.

The library manager had seen an article about your win in Detroit and asked if you could do a chess presentation for the local children. She had left you the keys to lock up and drop in the returns slot when you were done but unfortunately none of the attendees had stayed to help pack up.

It hadn't paid anything and most of the kids had just enjoyed pushing the pieces around the board but it'd gotten you out of your suffocating house for a while.

Mrs Cunningham had decided not to press charges in light of your black eye and the psychiatrist had passed Dad but it had been a long week of bated breath.

Waiting for all that to resolve plus school and tutoring had nearly driven you to breaking point. Robin and Max had done their best to distract you but there was no real way to escape the terrifying potential outcomes that played out in your head all day and kept you awake at night.

"How much longer are you going to ignore me?"

The voice was too deep for a child and too loud for a library goer.

Eddie stood behind you scowling and you swore silently. His posture was rigid and his hands balled into fists like he was ready for a fight.

His eyes scanned you as you stood frozen and lingered on your shocked face. The bruising around your eye had lightened to yellow which you hid with cosmetics but Eddie could still see the mark.

His expression softened a little at the injury but you couldn't accept his pity. You'd hurt him too badly to deserve it.

"Go away Eddie," you ordered.

"Oh good you do know my name," he said sarcastically. "I thought you might have forgotten it after a week of dodging me at school."

"I blew you. Big deal. Get over it."

You sounded as cruel as possible to make him go. You wanted him to believe you didn't care, that what happened in your room was a dumb mistake to be forgotten and he didn't matter to you.

"Look me in the eye and say that."

You couldn't. You adored those warm emotive eyes and couldn't endure the pain that would show in them after your vehement words.

"Get lost already," you told him and turned around to end the conversation.

You tried packing away the chess pieces but your shaking fingers fumbled and some fell out their bag. A wayward pawn rolled across the table and you reached for it when Eddie covered your hand and slammed it down on the piece.

You gasped at the harsh contact and stared at the large hand holding yours in place. The trapped pawn was imprinting on your palm and Eddie's rings were hot against your skin. Your fingers felt so brittle and small under the masculine hold that you kept them still.

Eddie wrapped his free arm around your middle and pressed himself against your back. A few strands of his mane fell on your face tickling your cheek as he inhaled the scent of your hair.

Your free hand grabbed his jacket sleeve and you breathed through your mouth so you wouldn't smell the intoxicating aroma of him.

"Let go."

You meant to sound commanding but the words came out feeble.

"I can't. You're tearing me in two when you wont see me."

His emotional words were muffled as he spoke into your neck and you quivered under his hot breath on your skin.

You'd been wanting this so badly since you'd run out your room that day. For him to hold you tight and protect you from all the mayhem flying around you.

To just forget everything for a while and feel whole with someone who made you feel wonderful.

"I'm a mess Eddie," you confessed weakly and tried to wiggle your trapped hand free.

"We all are baby," Eddie replied and with his free hand turned your neck so he could kiss you.

Your lips touched and you grabbed his wrist, not to stop him but to make sure he didn't leave. Your resolve to be alone had evaporated in his warm kiss and you no longer had the ability to feign coldness.

You craned your neck to deepen the kiss and parted your lips to let your tongue search for his. Eddie released your hand to use both of his to cup your face and you turned into his hold.

No more hiding.

Your hands wandered down his flat belly and you slipped your fingertips between the denim and tucked death metal singlet.

Suddenly Eddie wrapped his arms under your backside and lifted you onto the table. You gave a squeal of surprise and blinked with wide eyes at his hungry smile.

"You're not getting the upper hand this time darling," he declared and pulled your head back with a sharp yank on your braid.

A heat flared in you at his roughness and when he pulled away from the next kiss you held his bottom lip between your teeth for an extra second.

You made a playful snapping noise and he answered with a low growl before diving in for more.

Eddie Munson wanted to rip your clothes off right there in the public library and that was fine by you.

His unoccupied hand stroked the stretch of skin between your knee high sock and skirt then slid upwards. You felt the fingers journeying towards your middle and you parted your legs to ease their way.

His mouth was busy working along your neck, nipping the erogenous flesh making you pant with anticipation. You felt Eddie's thumb push on your clitoris and you let out a mewling sound as a jolt went through your body.

"Are you going to purr kitten?" Eddie teased in your ear and slipped one of his long fingers under your thin underwear.

"Kitten wants to come," was your sultry reply.

Eddie's finger stroked the outer lining of your entrance until it was moist and practically quaking for more.

You gasped as the first finger entered your tight opening and Eddie bit your neck at the same time, tearing you between two passionate acts.

"Fucker," you puffed and loosened his belt.

"You love it," he accused and sighed a little when the pressure on his groin eased by the opened pants.

You lifted one knee to rest your heel on the table edge and Eddie slipped another finger in. You groaned appreciatively and started to pump his liberated cock in time with his ministrations.

Eddie made a familiar noise of elation as his member grew in your hand and for a moment your stomach swirled with regret about your bedroom encounter.

It only took a second of looking in Eddie's eyes to know this wasn't a repeat.

The way he was watching you with adoration made you bashful, you'd never been physical with someone who liked you before.

Sex had always been functional for you - a way to exchange intimate energy or release pent up frustration.

Eddie didn't want to use you as a disposable outlet. He was expressing genuine affection for the first person he'd found interesting in a long time.

Your sexy rebel routine and intelligence had hooked him at first but it was the compassion you showed for your loved ones that made him fall.

No one could give so much of themselves to others if they weren't sincere.

"Ah! Ah! Stop!"

Your sudden cry of pain ceased his attentions and he looked at your wince perplexed.

"What's wrong?" he asked alarmed.

"Rings!"

The tiny points on the carved jewellery had scratched your sensitive wall making you recoil.

Eddie's throat dried slightly with embarrassment and there was a damp noise as he carefully pulled his fingers from your hot centre. Their sudden withdraw left you dismal, mourning the potential for more.

The elastic in your underwear made a small pop noise as it fell back into place as if sealing you from further pleasures.

"Sorry! I'll take them off just a sec baby."

Eddie started twisting the demented dragons and demons off his fingers then nearly dropped them when they slipped on his lubricated tips.

"Eddie," you said quickly looking around. "I'm not sure the kid's section is the best place for this."

In the momentary lapse of passion you could suddenly smell the stale books and unvacuumed carpet of the public library. The exaggerated smiles and wide eyes of illustrated animals on the children's story books unnerved you as you held Eddie's cock tight.

"Do they still have those beanbags in General Fiction?"

"Eddie!"

"You're right let's get out of here."

Reluctantly you relinquished your hold on his manhood and pulled his underwear back up. The appendage looked farcical now, far too large for the garment with precum making a puddle on the fabric.

It took two seconds for Eddie to buckle up and pull you away from the scattered chess sets. The librarian would give you hell but you would make up some family emergency excuse.

Eddie barely let you lock the door he was in such haste to get you in his van. The return slot hadn't even closed before he dragged you down the stairs and around the corner where he'd parked.

It had been a lovely day when you'd dressed this morning and decided to walk into town but now the grey clouds were seconds away from opening.

Eddie went to unlock the back door of his van when you gave him a playful shove.

"I don't think so Munson!" you cried indignantly but smiled.

"Oh?" Eddie threw his hands up in mock offence. "I'm sorry madame, do you think you're better than that?"

"Yes I am!" there was laughter on your voice as you pulled Eddie by his vest and kissed him hard. "You shit."

"You adore me babe," he boasted when you finished and the first few drops of rain landed on his wild hair.

Needing no further encouragement you climbed into the passenger seat and Eddie turned the engine over. The stereo came alive blasting your eardrums with death metal and you recoiled violently as Eddie quickly turned the volume dial.

"Sorry babe," he apologised sheepishly, "not used to passengers."

"I felt that in my fillings," you whined rubbing your jaw.

"Soon you'll be feeling me everywhere," Eddie said slyly and received a smack on the arm.

By the time the van pulled up at Eddie's trailer the rain was hammering down.

"Wayne's at a buddy's today watching the game," Eddie assured you as he pulled the handbrake up. "We've got the place to ourselves for a few hours."

The two of you made a mad dash for the door through the pouring rain and stumbled inside laughing. The downpour and cold wind had exhilarated you both into a giddy state.

Your hands had gone icy from the rain but Eddie's were warm from driving and you obeyed his tug towards his room.

You'd never been in Eddie's bedroom but it was about what you'd imagined. Messy as yours but instead of books he had cassette tapes and Rolling Stone magazines scattered over every surface.

You spied the guitar hanging on the wall and stepped closer to inspect it.

"That's my other girl but she's no threat to you," Eddie told you as he threw some clutter off his bed.

"This is no girl. She is a queen!" you exclaimed and marveled at the amazing shape and colour of the instrument.

Eddie wrestled his tangled bedcovers into a more a more presentable state then tried to pull you down to join him.

"Slow down, slow down."

Instead of crashing on the mattress you pulled him to up to stand in front of you. Taking a moment to stay still in the tiny room as rain thundered on the roof.

"What's the matter baby?"

Eddie watched you carefully as you slipped his wet jacket off gently and hung it over the desk chair.

"Nothing," you assured him and slowly wrapped your arms under his. "I just want us to take our time. Enjoy ourselves."

The truth was you couldn't survive another fuck up.

If things didn't go exactly right this time there wouldn't be another chance. You were too scared your teenage sexual blunders would tarnish the enjoyment and leave you both regretting the whole experience.

Eddie joined his arms around you and the two of you rocked gently to the steady beat of precipitation. You rested your cheek against his singlet enjoying the softness of the dark cotton and the thudding of his heart against your ear.

Eddie fell in step with your slower stride and rested his chin on your head.

You stayed that way for a little while like a couple of middle schoolers at the Snow Ball. It dawned on Eddie you'd never done anything as sweet as hug, before the oral in your bedroom you'd only performed petting for the school population.

The two of you had jumped from illusion to reality without pausing in the middle to talk and take time with each other.

"You know babe," Eddie said brushing some loose hair away from your face. "We don't have to this if you want to wait. We can watch a movie or just hang out and listen to some tunes. You could use a lesson in metal."

You pulled your face away from his chest so you could look up at his handsome face.

"I want to," you confirmed softly with an easy smile. "Just not the way we have been."

"Me too," Eddie spoke quickly to assure you he was still on board. "It's just that I want you to know, this isn't something I usually do. I don't fool around I mean, not sex I have sex, just not with someone I really like and I really like you."

"That's good," his words were both a relief and a joy to hear. "Because I really like you Eddie Munson."

You kissed each other nice and slow taking time to learn the contours and texture of each other's mouths. No frenzied rush to get to the next stage or urgent groping.

You gently worked your fingertips under his waistline and pushed his singlet up keeping your palms against his smooth skin as he raised his arms to assist.

Eddie had a complexion a model would envy. His impartiality to outdoor activities kept him out of the sun and covered in heavy clothes. The black ink of his tattoos stood out boldly on his flat chest and you took your time examining them before you kissed each one.

"Like 'em sweetheart?" Eddie asked as he ran a finger down the back of your neck lightly.

"You're a canvas," you giggled and traced your fingers over your favourite ones.

The texture of your shirt on Eddie's middle was mildly irritating and he started to pull the hem upwards. You allowed it and he mirrored the gentle pace you'd undressed him.

He'd of course seen you topless before but his admiration was different this time. Then he had devoured your uncovered skin voraciously but this time he was controlled, brushing his fingers along your arms and collarbones like a jeweller studying a gem.

Your skin responded by breaking into goosebumps and you moved closer to steal his heat. You were used to intimacy being sloppy and rushed because you'd never had the privilege of time, liaisons for you were typically opportunistic.

"Ok baby?" Eddie asked and you nodded. Even now you couldn't admit you felt vulnerable.

"Maybe we should warm up?" you suggested and motioned towards the bed.

The thin walls of the trailer did little to insulate but it wasn't warmth you craved right now. You wanted touch uninhibited by clothing.

Eddie sat on his bed and held his arms open for you to fill. Your bra was feeling restrictive so you quickly unclipped it and tossed it across the room.

Eddie's brown eyes latched onto your breasts following them as you sat next to him and swung your legs onto the bed.

He looped an arm under your back to support you as you held onto his shoulder with one hand and buried your other in his unruly hair.

Eddie took to this new arrangement with enthusiasm and ran a hand under your panties making the elastic flick against your arse playfully.

"Tease," you said against his mouth as you broke apart for a moment.

"That's your name," he countered and dove back in for more.

You knew Eddie liked your arse since he was always smacking it playfully when he passed you in the hall.

He squeezed your hip making fingerprints on your muscular backside then ran his thumb across your pelvis until it rested on your clitoris.

Your mouth opened and you made a little 'oh' noise as he began making circular motions on the sensitive spot.

"Tell me what you like."

"Just keep doing what you're doing."

"Come on tell me. Fast or slow?"

Eddie was getting anxious now because he'd stepped into new territory. He'd only had sex with older women at the community college a few towns over when he'd gone to sell merch at parties.

Those women always latched onto him and did what they wanted without verbalising but Eddie never complained because he'd always achieved release. In a way it was more business than pleasure.

He didn't want to be that way with you because he wanted you to feel as good as you could make him feel. He needed your guidance to do that though.

"A little faster," you said with a small lump in your throat, "and a bit more force."

Eddie complied and your hips bucked involuntary at the surge that shot through you.

"Good?" he asked needlessly.

You nodded and he pulled you upwards again to continue kissing.

The pleasure building in your core was sending tremors down your legs and your feet slid back and forth on the bedspread. It had been a long time since you'd last indulged and you'd forgotten how intense it could be.

Eddie had musician's touch so his thumb played you until high whimpers escaped your lips.

"Wait a sec," you said suddenly halting his hand.

"What's the matter baby?" he asked as he kissed your cheeks and neck. "Don't you want to come?"

"I do," you replied positively. "With you."

You gently pushed him on his back so you were lying side by side on the single bed. The space was tight but you would have kept close even if you'd had the room to stretch.

"Have you got something?" you asked and kissed his ear.

Eddie reached for the nightstand and ran his hands through the draw without taking his lips off you. His blind groping produced a handful of guitar picks and other useless assortments until you lost your patience and rolled on top of him to see for yourself.

You found the condoms and ripped one off the strip before passing it to Eddie.

"Know what to do?" you asked seriously.

This was one thing you couldn't afford to fuck up.

"That was the one Health class I showed up for," Eddie answered and opened the wrapper.

You helped pull his pants off then tickled his feet when you took off his socks. You got a playful kick for your mischief and when his cock was sheathed you crawled up the bed and squeezed it hard.

"How do you want me?" you asked.

"Can I," there was a beat of hesitation, "get on top?"

Eddie's experience with college girls had all been with him seated while they went wild on top of him. It had been great but he'd never been in charge.

"Sure," you said sensing his trepidation and gently encouraged him to roll you over.

You sank into the weary mattress as Eddie climbed on top and you could feel some of the fire dying down. The engagement had gone from passionate to perfunctory because of nerves.

Eddie rocked a little bit as he figured where to put his hands while you grabbed his cock and rubbed the covered tip on your entrance before lining it up.

Eddie looked at you silently until you nodded then pushed into you hard.

He didn't hurt you but the lack of style and dryness of the condom caused you to pull a face that made Eddie panic.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked in a tight voice.

"No just go slower," you advised.

"Are you sure? I can stop?" Eddie was beginning to spiral into doubt.

This was not how things went in the videos he'd watched, those people never fumbled. They slipped straight in and had the girls screaming after a few thrusts.

You shifted your hips a fraction and wrapped your legs around his waist so your ankles crossed. Eddie let out a little noise as he sank deeper into you and you caught his chin forcing him to look at you.

"Take your time," you told him firmly but kindly.

Eddie didn't reply but started to rock his hips against yours until you settled into a matching speed. His hair had fallen like a curtain over your faces so you bunched it together and rested a hand against his cheek, thumb dragging along his bottom lip.

"You feel good darling," he puffed and you hummed appreciatively.

He felt good too and you were getting slicker with every thrust. Eddie was gaining confidence and you wanted to take things up a notch.

You took a breath to tighten your core then pulled your pelvic muscles to clench around his cock.

"Jesus Christ!" Eddie yelled and nearly lost his rhythm. "What the hell was that?"

"Did you like that?" asked biting your lip naughtily.

"Do it again!"

You laughed at him and tightened yourself causing Eddie to pull a face of sheer ecstasy as his thrusts got faster and rougher. Your feet were bouncing against his small backside and the poor bedframe sounded ready to split.

"Baby I'm not gonna last," he puffed and looked at you with desperation. He knew you hadn't come. "You're so fucking tight."

"Move with me," you said quickly and you awkwardly rolled together until you were reversed.

"I came out," Eddie puffed as he looked down to see his cock now slickened with your moisture pointing at the roof.

That didn't happen in those videos either -those people stayed together like industrial glue.

"I got ya," you said and took a firm grip before lowering yourself down on him.

During foreplay you'd forgotten to take your skirt off and it bunched around your hips as Eddie filled you from underneath.

It was your turn to pull amusing faces as this new position allowed his cock to reach you in a spot that itched for attention.

"Mmm, mmm," you managed as you felt the tip tickle your center.

"What's that sweetheart?" Eddie asked teasingly and you swatted his decorated chest.

Fuck his smart mouth you wanted to come. You had forgotten how good this could be and in that moment you were oblivious to the burdens that weighed you down.

You were alone with someone who made you feel alive and happy every second you were with him.

Eddie felt more confident in this familiar position and squeezed your hips as you ground into him.

"Come on, get it," he growled and dug his thumbnails into your skin.

Your high socks chaffed your knees as you rocked back and forth viciously greedy for satisfaction. The two of you had found your perfect synch and you rode him furiously for the pleasure to consume you.

Eddie's nails were clawing up your back leaving red marks and he was swearing with every roll of your wet centre. He wouldn't last much longer but you weren't ready to release him yet.

You still needed him.

"Here! Here!" you yelled and pushed his fingers into your clitoris as you rocked him mercilessly.

Eddie rubbed your bud vigourously and yelled with you as he tried to contain his own orgasm.

"Eddie! Fuck! Yes!" You felt an unmistakable sensation rising as all the stimulations clashed together then you screamed as the first burst rippled through you.

You slammed into Eddie with each wave of your orgasm and screamed so loud you didn't hear him curse out his ejaculation.

For that minute you weren't a student, a chess champion or a dutiful daughter. You were a girl getting fucked hard and you embraced it with every iota of your being.

You rode him until you were sure the sublime sensations had passed and your pelvis came to rest. Beneath you Eddie puffed as he rubbed the red marks he had made on your back and you stroked the sweat from his handsome face.

Every so gently you separated yourself and wedged yourself between him and the wall. Your head made a cushion of Eddie's shoulder and the dry sheets absorbed the sweat from your skin sending a sudden chill through you.

You snuggled closer and laid a soft hand on Eddie's flat stomach, watching it rise and fall with his laboured breaths.

"It's official sweetheart," he puffed after a little while, "you have fucked The Freak of Hawkins High."

You didn't answer and Eddie figured you were ignoring his dumb joke. He was too lost in orgasmic high to keep playing and instead tried to get everything straight in his head.

One day you meet the boss of an underground book cartel, give her ten bucks to play chess, swap some witty banter then she winds up in your bed giving you the time of your young life.

It made perfect sense right?

A tiny whimper floated to his ears and he looked over to see you crying silently on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, what's this?" he said reaching over. "I was just being stupid."

He wiped your tears away with his big thumbs and made you look at him.

"No it's alright," you said as you moved into an embrace. "I'm just really happy."

[eyothings]

So out of nowhere this december, i've been hit with nostalgia and decided it was time to rewatch Buffy The Vampire Slayer's entire series after the last time it aired on tv, meaning 20 years ago.

Not only it shaped a whole side of my lil sister personality, it is also the favorite show of one of my cousin and closest friends.

And considering the state i'm in after finishing season 7, i know for sure Spike is the origin of my utter love for anti-heros, England and ennemies-to-lovers trope.

He is one of those characters that stay with you forever.

C'mon look at him, LO_OK.

I had very few memories of the show, only some big moments: Angel leaving for a spinoff, Spike ♥, Dark Willow, Spuffy - Basically I remembered almost nothing.

The first season set the tone for me, i forgot the serie was very funny, and what worked right away was the simple fact that they didn't act seriously either, the actors looked like they just had fun. On top of that, even if i already knew that, the show is very feminist and advanced for its time.

I also forgot how much of an asshole Xander is. lol

The worst season for me is clearly season 4, and between you and me, and me and you, it's unsurprisingly because of Riley and the army.

The best season is obviously season 6, and not only for Spike and Spuffy but for Buffy's whole personality.

I have so much to say about the show really, but I'll stay focused and talk about the two ships: Bangel and Spuffy (and a bit of Riley). Note that it is purely my point of view, based on what i like to see and read in fiction and how I perceive the characters, there is clearly a big difference compared to real life. As well as any "bitch" mentioned here is only affectionate. And if you're crazy enough to read the entire post, I apologise in advance for the many mistakes in my writing, as English is not my mother tongue.

The moment i'm writing this VERY long ass post, I've only just started to watch Angel the series for the first time and I've only seen the first season, so my thoughts on him may change in the future, but I don't think my pov on the ships will. I am also aware of some events in seasons 8 to 12 (comics).

• Bangel:

To be honest I liked their love story more when Angel was Angelus.

First, them falling in love never really clicked, I guess they played the love at first sight trope, but she was 15 and he was 200; at that age, any man who was pretty enough and a bit dark would've worked for her. (I won't talk about a 26 y/o man falling in love with a 15 y/o teenager, the man is from 1727, at this point it's not even the same culture okay??)

I thought I'd still give it a chance and root for them, even if I was fully aware of him leaving and Spike would be the new romance (I FORGOT THE WASTE OF TIME WITH RILEY), because they actually talked about all the issues, they knew something was off with their love story but they couldn't stop.

I have not much to say about the nature of their love, it was a cute romance at best, but the more they went further the cringier it'd get, I still have trauma about their kiss noises, no kidding.

They slept together and Angel becomes Angelus, which is supposed to be sad and add some angst, but Angelus was so charismatic, I didn't care about Angel anymore.

And what can I say? I think the soul vs no soul aspect played kinda badly, they all said that Angelus was incapable of love since he had no soul, but we had the concrete proof that love was possible thanks to Spike & Drusilla to begin with ??

I was hoping that, since they sold us their love as super powerful and intense, Angelus would end up falling in love with Buffy, especially after the episode in which both are possessed by ghosts in season 2 episode 19 - I Only Have Eyes for You - which is my favorite moment between them:

but NO, Angelus cannot love, and only Angel can:

It's either we get the flavored guy but no romance or the bland one with a half romance.

Talk about the greatest love story there.

And the whole season 3 is Angel and Buffy having a teen romance:

"Let's just hold hands and kiss but nothing else"

Of course I guess this kind of love story is possible, but it is made clear they both feel the sexual tension each time they kiss, they even dream of doing it. So the only thing that comes of it, is frustrating feelings, for Buffy, for Angel and for us watching them going nowhere.

The hottest moment they have is when Angel bites her to survive.

Surely for a love story that is sold to be so grand, I expected Angel to find a cure for the curse? And fight for his love or something?

♫ Nope, he just leaves. ♫

♫ Bitch talks about fighting for what is worth and bails out at the first difficulty. ♫

i cannot even blame Joyce here, she made the right call, for real. Mother knows best, but he had the chance to prove her wrong.

And in parallel to that we are introduced to Spike, a vampire with no soul who is one hundred times worth Angel, just by existing.

And there is so much to say, whether or not Spuffy was intended, whether or not Angel is supposed to be the love of Buffy's life; After reaching seven seasons, I can guarantee without any hesitation, that Spike is the one, there is no contest.

I can't, for the life of me, believe one second that Joss Whedon and the rest of the team wrote the enemies to lovers story of the last two decades without doing it on purpose? They were so much into Angel, to realize what was happening?

They sold me Angel and Buffy being the "forever love", and, in a way, they are, but only because they cling to the "what could've been".

Of course they will always be attracted to each other until they really try. They'll always idealise their love story and fill the plotholes with their imagination. But it is dramatically bound to end in disaster.

And no, Buffy, I cannot take you seriously when you say "I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life" ; You were a teenager, it is normal to feel more deeply when you're 16, but that doesn't mean anything, and you know it too well.

Angel left her broken, unable to trust anyone, unable to trust herself and alone: If the love of her life doesn't want to be with her, then who will? (♫ We have an idea ♫ )

Soul or not, he has been a coward, with no intent to get to know Buffy, her family, her friends. He decided what was best for her without asking her.

All he does after that, is coming back into Buffy's life at the worst moments to be jealous.

♫ He is that toxic boyfriend who comes back with puppy eyes each time you try to move on. ♫

Every time he appears in an episode it's to disappoint even more: I was rooting for him, I even missed him A LOT in season 4 !

And, sure, meanwhile, the dance between Spike and Buffy was already ongoing since season 2, but we really didn't have any concrete scenes between them that could seal the ship for good (them under Willow's spell in season 4 doesn't count). So the best option at that moment was the hope for Angel to come back.

Buffy never really had the chance to move on from Angel because of Riley and his insecurities, but also because Angel cannot seem to move on, while moving on at the same time ? ! ? ♫ Bitch has a child ♫

The moment Angel left the show, it should have been for good. (Note aside, I'm still having a hard time believing the character had his own spinoff because of his popularity, when we barely saw him hanging around in the first 3 seasons, wouldn't have it been simpler for him to stay and have more scenes, like Spike?) • Riley & Buffy (Briley??)

And so Angel never came back, and we got Riley instead. He was the perfect choice to make the bridge between Bangel and Spuffy. She needed to experience a "normal" romance, with a "normal guy" to know what it's like and to understand what she really wants, but one season and a half was way too much. ♫ I ended up googling " WHEN is Riley LEAVING? "♫ The moment Buffy said she held back her strength when training with him, was enough to see what was coming.

Riley was nothing else than just an army guy under steroids who couldn't even handle his girlfriend being stronger than him.

Him blaming Buffy for not really being around when her mother was dying was the cherry on top of the loser's behavior.

Buffy needed someone with whom she could be 100% herself, an equal, and Riley knew he wasn't half of that; so he made her pay? By cheating on her and leaving? Then coming back a year later to brag about his wedding? Lmao give me a break Riloser.

So now Buffy is alone AGAIN, both men she thought she loved, left without looking back. ♫ Over my shouuulder ♫

And from those two relationships, we can already see what she needs in a romance:

- An emotionally available man - That can be there for her without pushing her - Someone who doesn't flee the second he encounters the smallest difficulty - A man strong enough for her to unleash the full force without being afraid of hurting him ♫ yes i'm talking about sex ♫ - Someone who understands her role as the slayer and her crazy life - Someone selfless capable of protecting her family and friends - Someone she can trust.

♫ And now, ladies and gentlemen, lets welcome ♫

• Spuffy:

Ok first a bit of context here: I disagree about people criticizing Buffy season 6 Lets just understand whats going on: Bitch sacrifices herself to save the world and her sister; at that moment, she feels peace for the first time in her life, for the first time she is not afraid to die and fulfill her destiny by choice. She has an heroic death, ends up resting in paradise...

♫ Then her friends who can't handle to live without her, decide to bring her back to life. ♫

Not only she comes back to life in her fucking coffin, she also: - Has to crawl to the surface (almost dying stupidly) - Has to act as if nothing happened - Has to be the slayer again - Cannot even go back to university - Has even less prospect for a normal life - She is poor - She needs to find money (ends up working in a fast food) - Has to thanks her friends for bringing her back to the life she never wanted - Is being blamed for not really being around.

♫ I WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING PISSED YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE ♫

So what? She comes back, feels different, depressed, alone AGAIN and figuratively chained to a life she still doesn't want, and the only person who does understand what she is going through is Spike. Spike who has been here for her family and friends the whole time she was dead, meaning, he did it because he wanted to, because he felt genuine pleasure in hanging out with them while keeping his promise to protect Dawn.

He could have left, but never did, even though his love was one-sided, he loved her so much he stayed.

♫ Death couldn't do them apart ♫

He has been a father figure for Dawn, but not only that, Spike was also the only vampire Joyce liked and trusted, a presence she didn't mind in her home without Buffy around.

And Spike did love Joyce very much ♥

And I have so much to say about Spike, he is that multi-flavored character with so many layers, who stays interesting with or without a soul. He is a slayer's killer, seen as one of the most dangerous vampires, that anyone should be scared to be around, he has so much confidence in himself, he doesn't even mind being so freaking pathetic when it comes to love.

He is not even afraid nor ashamed to show his affection, to be vulnerable, to be open about it, and most of it, he just embraces it without a care of the outcome, he is just living by the day, knowing perfectly that everything could stop at any moment. Though, that being said, i'm still well aware Spike has also MANY flaws, all he does is mainly driven by love but it is still extreme and twisted due to his soulless condition. I really don't know where to start, because i feel like Buffy and Spike's destinies are intertwined - They are a mirror to each other. Buffy's behavior has anything to do with Spike, as Spike's behavior has anything to do with Buffy - it is really like watching a dance.

Spike allows her to embrace and explore the darkest part of herself - She was always the perfect girl everyone expected her to be.

She needed to do good, to BE good, but what if she, for once, chose the other side? Of course she never went as far as Faith did, but she allowed herself to fall into a forbidden romance, and to go against everyone's expectations, because she only felt something when she was with him. And i loved this part of her, because to me, she finally has flaws! I mean, she always had some but not to that extent. And maybe, maybe being like this, was a way for her to never fall completely into the darkness nor into Spike's influence.

Maybe she was in an inner battle between good and bad.

Maybe it was an unconscious way to either push him away, or test him to see if he will ever leave her. Abusive or not towards Spike, let's not forget that he is still William the bloody, and the only thing that stops him from killing anyone is the chip in his brain. We're still talking about the guy who would have easily killed Willow if he had the chance, the one Buffy wouldn't trust at all without that said chip.

Even though Spike has done TREMENDOUS good deeds with the scoobies, he is still a slave to his primary emotions.

Don't get me wrong, this is why i love Spike SO MUCH, his duality as a soulless vampire is everything. The man can talk to you about his favorite romantic show and a minute later kill someone in cold blood and find a great pleasure in both.

♫ Anyway ♫

Above all things, they are in love, and this love is extremely intense, deep, powerful, unbearable and terrible.

Thanks to Tara, Buffy realizes she did not come back as any different as before she died and realizes the horrors she has committed to Spike by treating him like a monster he never trully was.

Buffy ends up admitting her wrongs and grows out of her darkness and chooses to be good and to end her relationship with Spike. And she is glowing and glimming, and she's not his anymore.

Which leads Spike to end up doing something awful.

And what does he do after that??

He leaves the city...

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫ TO FIX HIMSELF ♫ ♫ ♫

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in the year 2002, and yes you read me well:

THE BAD GUY GOES TO FIX HIMSELF TO BE WORTHY OF THE GIRL

♫ William the bloody risked his fucking life in a trial to get back his soul ♫

She doesn't fix him, he does it on his own because he knows something must be done to repair his wrongs, that his love needs to be purified of his monstrous side to be a better man and stand at her side.

And even though she doesn't know that, she is still looking for him, even after what he has done, she is always drawn to him, she always wants to be around him.

Then she learns he got his spark back for her and she does everything in her power to keep him by her side.

Because now it is time for Spike to embrace the brightest part of himself thanks to Buffy.

I love them so much, especially in season 7 because they don't even have to act romantically to show how deep their love is for each other. How simple it has become, how instinctive their complicity is. They know how to complement each other, it is almost symbiotic.

They are clearly not ready to be together again until they really sort things out but Spike has seen the best and the worst parts of her, and is still hers entirely, and will always be.

As much as Buffy has seen the best and worst parts of him, and she still trusts and loves him to the point of asking the initiative to remove the chip in his brain. ♫ On top of desperately not wanting him to die ♫ Also, without knowing it yet, she is entirely his and will always be.

Buffy sees Spike’s worth, and Spike sees Buffy’s, even when neither of them can see their own.

They lift each other up, and become an unbreakable force, to the point that no one can split them.

And this is one of my favorite parts of Spuffy, in season 7:

Before, she would never have let Spike kill a human, not even out of revenge. But now, she’s willing to let his shadow take over if it means keeping him alive, just as he learns to hold it back. To me, episode 17 - Lies My Parents Told Me - marks how far their connection has grown: Buffy running as fast as she can to save Spike Spike's past with his mother, helping him make peace with some of it, as part of his ongoing redemption arc ♫ it broke my heart ♫ Spike coming back to his senses to beat the shit out of Robin, and giving him a last chance Buffy telling Robin she'll let Spike kill him next time he even tries to harm Spike Buffy choosing Spike over Giles Buffy choosing Spike over the "common sense" Buffy choosing love over her duty (even if she pretends otherwise) ♫ Buffy, you cannot fool Spike, but you cannot fool us either! ♫

And i love this parallel with the end of season 2 when she had to choose duty over love and kill Angel. This is Buffy allowing herself to be a bit more selfish while Spike is allowing himself to be a bit more selfless.

And then in the middle of the biggest battle of her life, she is overthrown over shitty excuses ♫ i have a LOT to say about the Scoobies but that post is insanely long to add some salt ♫ and who is the one that still has her back? Spike. Spike has always been unconditionally here for her and never let her down, which even the Scoobies didn't always do.

Spike is the one who delivers the most selfless and beautiful love declaration of the whole show, to her. When she needs it the most, because he is the only one who can see her.

And his love is what gives strength to Buffy to trust herself and pursue her goal. He is the one who brings back the light in Buffy, who pushes her to live and accept her fate as being the one.

And talking about light,

♫ What a freakin' poetry to have centered Spike's whole redemption arc around it ♫

He was always pursuing that light, whether in Cecily when he was a human or Buffy as a vampire. All he had to do was bring the light into him and embrace his humanity to fulfill his redemption. And so he makes the ultimate sacrifice, And he glows. Not only he saves the world willingly and selflessly but he also gives back the fire inside Buffy, frees her from Sunnydale and her role as the sole slayer.

♫ "I love you" - "Spike" are the last words Buffy says in the show ♫ • Conclusion A freaking long ass post only to say that to me, Spuffy is very well written as enemies to lovers, thanks to Jane Espenson, Douglas Petrie & Marti Noxon. Though i think Spike still suffers some injustices, but I'm glad he got the respect he deserves in the comics, (which i consider canon) : Not only does Spike end up as part of the Scoobies but also with Buffy, and he is the only one with whom she fights for their relationship to last. ♫ And they're endgame in season 12 ♫ (Thank you Christos Gage)

I also think JW made many mistakes for Bangel to work: I know he was kinda annoyed by Spike's popularity at first and wanted Angel to be seen as the main vampire of the franchise, which led him to give Angel his own spinoff, but by doing that, he also broke the link between Buffy and Angel. Which ultimately led Spike to have a more organic evolution with her instead of Angel. They both had their own paths in their own separate worlds, which forced JW to accept Spuffy as being the logical conclusion. Just as Cordelia was also the best choice for Angel to grow and be more open about his emotions. Claiming in interviews that Angel is the love of Buffy's life without ever demonstrating it concretely in any of the media itself makes this statement fall flat. I do not hate Bangel, I think the ship was necessary for Buffy to grow, but i do see more Angel as her first idealised and tragic love, while with Spike, it is more grounded, mature and based on mutual respect, trust, acceptation and stability.

♫ Angel should have stayed and Spike and Drusilla should have had their own spinoff, and i'd have paid to see that. ♫ • My pov on Sprusilla?

Literally nothing to say about them, they match each other freak to a level no one can ever comprehend.

♫ They are a perfect match and untouchable. ♫ ♫ May they end up together again and last for eternity. ♫

♫ With animals. ♫ (alive)

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: three hours prior, Simon had told Maddie he'd loved her. That she hadn't needed to say it back. And he'd been sure that'd been fine...until that strange, hedonist ghost connection you'd told him you'd shared with Wally had returned with a vengeance, effecting not just you and Wally, but everyone within its radius.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

🎀🌶️💌 a sprinkle of smut and love for Valentine's Day. unplanned, but perfect timing 😘

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.8

Grandpa John had always been around. A permanent fixture in your household since his death in 1974. The year your Uncle Andrew was born. He'd died in New York but had made his way back. His choice to remain an earthly ghost meant he'd had to travel as those in the living world did. Trains, planes, and automobiles. That was how it was when a soul kept a foothold in the world, so close to the veil that they never fully transitioned from life to death.

He was waiting for Nanna, you'd assumed. You didn't actually know, forbidden from talking to Grandpa John despite the fact that everyone in your family had connectedness and were aware of his presence. Although he'd been Nanna's husband, he'd spent a lot of time haunting Ginny, following her when she'd traveled even when she'd failed to acknowledge him. Or maybe she'd been breaking the rule she'd been sworn to uphold behind everyone's backs.

You'd certainly done it. And when nothing had happened—no swarms or squalls in sight—you'd kept doing it to the point you'd found your fated in his afterlife and had done a lot more than talk to him.

The rule was stupid. Possibly implemented after another family under your Ciorcal had misused their connectedness. You could imagine it: Some family of bank robbers manipulating ghosts to open bank vaults in the metaphysical world so the robbers could fill duffel bags with stacks of cash in the living world. If you were able to bring the two worlds together, surely someone else could, too.

Regardless, this wasn't the same scenario and you needed to talk to Grandpa John, so when Simon mentioned a ghost who resembled Magnum P.I., you knew you had to track him down.

"Where?" You demanded, already shifting toward the low grounds of the school where the fence met the woods.

"No, no way," Simon urged, planting himself between you and the path you wanted to take. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like my mom." Maddie murmured, huddled close to Charley, her face crumpled in an expression of pure anguish.

"Or why we didn't feel warm and tingly when Janet crossed over," Charley added.

A sharp exhale, "Dead Grandpa John might know something," you implored, gazing up at Wally as he stepped into your space and strung his arm around you. He shook his head, had already protested the idea because he couldn't follow you past the fence, and beseeched that you'd done enough sleuthing for one night. "But if he saw who took Limon, we'd have Amelia's real face!" You were frustrated, scared, a n g r y. She'd been in your house for fuck's sake! Didn't they care!?

Wally pulled you closer, banded his other arm around you, and held you. You wanted to shove him, kick him, snarl, scratch, lash out. But the longer he held you, the more his embrace soothed the impulse. Releasing a taxed sigh, your body went limp in his arms.

"He said he couldn't say anything, anyway," Simon said softly, his tone bordering on regretful. "He was talking in metaphors."

You felt Wally make some kind of motion before he asked, "Just...give us a second?" of Simon and the others. They must've agreed since, the next thing you knew, Wally had maneuvered you around the corner of the school building for privacy. Alone, he lifted you into his arms, turned and slid down the wall so he was sat on the ground with you in his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head, temple, cheek, lips. "Do you always call him 'Dead Grandpa John'?" He grinned when he pulled back to look at you.

Your snort bled into a chuckle, "We actually do, yeah."

"So you guys know you're not talking about Alive Grandpa John who exists, right?"

You shook your head, gazing at Wally with a weak but there smile. "Not even."

Wally laughed, light and fond, and nodded, "I bet he loves that."

"Hey, we're not allowed to talk to him, but he's more than welcome to talk to us. He could've said something." You challenged. And then it struck you, what Wally was doing. His carefree smile, his humor, his kisses and touch...oh. He was trying to make you feel better. You blushed, somewhat ashamed of your earlier aggressiveness, eyes downcast and lips pursed.

"What's that look for, pretty girl?" Wally asked as he hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face up, thumb smudging across your bottom lip and then lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, "I just... Seeing Aiden tonight. Knowing he's...he's still there, stuck in a loop and so far away from home. God, it would kill my mom if she found out. And Amelia being in my house?" You choked, swallowed, tucked your face into his neck, and curled your fingers in his shirt, "Wally, I'm scared."

"Me too, baby," Wally cradled the back of your head, "And you wonder why I don't want you running into the dark, creepy woods at night with just Simon and a shovel?" He huffed, "Amelia could be anywhere right now."

"She could be anyone."

"Exactly," Wally's voice dropped, low and serious as he said, "If anything happened to you and I couldn't get to you... Baby, I'd lose it, I'd—"

You could tell he was spiraling, too many bad thoughts crowding his mind. So you did what you hoped would relieve his anxiety. You took his face in your hands and kissed him. Slow. Deep. Meaningful as he held you, his big hands on your thighs, a little whimper from his throat, his bent legs falling open so you were forced to push forward and press your hips against his. Your weight rested fully in his lap and you felt a twitch in his sweatpants, right where you suddenly ached for him.

"Wally..." You said like a secret under your breath. "We should..."

Should. Do...what?

It descended by gradual degrees. That thick, viscous haze you remembered had distorted your mind the first time Wally had kissed you. The world around you and him dimmed, faded, pushed back into the margins as you pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. A gratified sigh, lips connecting and letting out, over and over, soft kisses that turned blazing as it continued.

"Just a little longer, baby," Wally grabbed your ass and guided you against him, kissed you with rising hunger, "I missed you." He rocked his hips into yours from below, the evidence of his arousal stiff and hardening further in his sweatpants. "I've got all this...this energy in me since Dawn crossed over," he whined before he devoured your lips in another deep kiss. "I can't—please baby, I need to get it out of me."

You knew why. An energy shed. When ghosts crossed over—or ascended, rather—they sheared everything that held them to the earth. Bodies and the space those occupied; consciousness as human beings understood it; all barriers surrendered for their spirit to return to the cosmic nebula they'd dawned from.

Dawn's ascension had occurred in what essentially amounted to a box where her earthly energy couldn't spread farther than the boundaries of the school. Being in such close proximity must have made that euphoric and peaceful release that much more potent. Wally needed an outlet. And, like a contact high, you were rapidly succumbing to the same need. You were hardly aware of your body moving on his, rubbing yourself against him through your layers and his.

"Please, baby," He repeated, "I want you so bad." One hand clenched your thigh while the other curled into your hair and angled your head, held it still so he could kiss you with mounting passion, "Please, just let me feel you. I need to feel you."

You whimpered, moaned, humped forward, and watched his face contort in pleasure as you ground against him. He matched your movements in that slow, sedate tempo, the anticipation and need swelling between you, around you, inside you.

"Wally," You whimpered as you felt his hand move from your thigh to the front of your jeans, expert fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down.

"Don't stop, baby," Wally groaned, both hands sneaking into the back of your jeans, beneath your panties, to grab your ass skin-to-skin, "Fuck, it feels good." He licked into your mouth, ravenous, hot, all teeth and tongue as he consumed every sweet, eager noise you made. His cock was thick and completely hard, the friction maddening even through the thin denim of your jeans. Desire lit up and ignited inside you with every touch, kiss, sound he delivered.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lustblown and heavy, "I wanna taste you, baby." His nails lightly dragged up your ass cheeks to your hips. You nodded. Maybe. You weren't sure, everything deliciously muzzy, but you could think enough that you knew you wanted this. Wally smiled a lopsided, cocky thing that sent hot shivers through your nervous system. "Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl." A command more than a request in a voice like gravel.

Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Slithered out of his lap to position yourself with your ass in the air, legs spread, hips swaying as you wordlessly beckoned him to you. A fucking cat in heat, you'd never felt this kind of languid, cottoncandy desire before. Vaguely, you wondered if this was what it felt like to get high. Acutely sensitive and remarkably unaware of anything beyond your little pocket of flesh and bone.

Your wayward thoughts were steered to Wally when his fingers slipped under the waist of your jeans to drag them down below the swell of your ass. You heard him moan, felt him press his clothed cock between your cheeks, and hump once, twice, before he shifted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, probably definitely too loud, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Wally's tongue was sweeping through your folds from behind before it fucked into you. His big hands squeezed your ass, face pressed between your ass cheeks, and he groaned in blissful satisfaction as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"So fucking sweet, baby," He said, and, glancing at him over your shoulder, you saw him lick his lips, his chin already glistening. He winked at you, smug grin on his face, and then sunk down to repeat the action. One finger dipped inside your pussy just to slick it up before it found your clit and rubbed in a firm circle. Your breath stuttered, brain turned to pudding, and, holy fuck, if he stopped you'd kill him.

Wally ate you out like he was going for gold, silver, bronze; every place, every medal, with gusto. And just when you were about to see God, "Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," Wally came up for air, shoved his sweatpants down, and drove into you in one fluid motion. Hard. The slap of skin on skin bouncing off the wall and ricocheting into the night. "F u u u c k."

You fell forward onto your elbows, cheek in the grass, body rocking from every beastial thrust. The noises his cock punched out of you were unlike any you'd heard yourself make, and what the hell was that? You didn't know you were capable of that pitch, that high note; so desperate and needy and completely fucking shameless in your lust for Wally as he pounded into you over and over, blunt cockhead beating your g-spot like a drum.

"Oh God, W-Wally!" You choked, gasped, whimpered in that order, forcing yourself onto your hands and slamming back just as good as you he gave you. So close, so fucking close, just a little more, God, please— "Oh fuck, Wally, don't stop!"

Grabbing you by your throat, Wally drew you upright, his cock still buried deep, and pressed your back to his front. His teeth found your neck; nipped, sucked, licked, his thumb pushed between your lips for you to suck. He moaned like rapture, pace faster, more feverish, as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He was swiftly losing control, you could feel it, his hips stuttering, but he didn't stop, "Gonna come for me, baby girl?" And, shit, oh, oh—two, three, four more hard, brutal thrusts, his fat cock beating the ecstasy into your bloodstream—you came with a force that left you reeling. Waves crashed, galaxies lived and died, and you nearly blacked out.

The instant you clenched around him, Wally roared, primal, from the depths of his chest, nails biting your hip painfully as he fucked his climax into you. His fingers twitched around your throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he panted a mantra of your name punctuated by long groans. When he stilled, you and he collapsed forward into the grass. He caught himself before squishing you under his weight, his hand quickly adjusting from your throat to your stomach as he kept you against him and rolled to the side.

"Holy shit," He breathed, sweatpants still around his thighs, softening, wet cock cooling in the open air.

The feeling rose from your belly to your chest and then outward. It started with a giggle that grew into a laugh which Wally doubled with his own. You flopped onto your back, turned your head to stare at him as you and he came down from whatever high had picked up and carried you and him away.

"Energy sheds are fucking. awesome." You decided with a wide grin, taking a moment to tug your panties and jeans back into place.

"Is that what that was?" Wally asked as he, too, put himself to rights. He sat up first, gathered you into his arms, between his legs, and sat back against the wall. "An energy shed?"

You nodded, snuggled into him, and stamped a kiss to his collar, "It's a side-effect of ascending. Or crossing over, as you call it." You explained, "You don't take everything with you when you ascend and what stays behind is dispersed. Usually, it has a lot more room, but I guess, with the Something-Something's barrier in place, Dawn's energy couldn't thin out." You grinned up at him as he blinked down at you in amazement.

"Jesus, it felt like I popped a dozen Mollies..." Wally's head fell back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Is it always like that?"

"It's not supposed to be that intense. Like I said, the shed's usually spread a lot thinner. People within a certain radius would feel a sense of peace and pure happiness. Concentrated like it is here? I guess it's a helluva drug." You speculated.

Wally swooped down to kiss you, affectionate and slow, and when he pulled back, "I'm still horny," he chuckled, "How long does it last?"

"I have no idea," You said honestly, a big smile on your face as you planned to spend the night with your devilishly sexy ghost boyfriend. That was until you remembered why you were there in the first place. Reality crashed over you like a bucket of ice water, "Oh my God, they probably heard everything!"

Wally shifted to peek around the corner, "Uh... I don't think they did." He said, "No one's there..."

"Yeah, probably because they heard. everything." You bemoaned into your hands, cheeks flushed for the worst reason.

"Babe, I'm sure it's fine," Wally kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your cheek again and again, an onslaught of playful kisses that tickled a giggle from you. "C'mon, sweet girl," Wally hoisted you easily to your feet as he rose from the ground, hugged you close before he led you toward the side entrance, "Let's go find the others."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon stared ahead, mortified. Or, really, he should've felt mortified, but he couldn't bring himself to. Maddie was breathing heavily, her cheeks a gorgeous cherry red, eyes glazed, lips kiss-swollen. Her jeans and underwear still dangled off a leg hung over the teacher's desk. Simon's jeans, however, were securely on though open, his come splashed in streaks and dribbles on the yellowed linoleum he'd knelt on while he'd eaten Maddie out. Whatever the fuck that unprecedented interlude of lustfucknow had been, it'd passed, and in the aftermath Simon wasn't sure what to do or say or think.

Eventually, "Wow," Maddie exhaled, tipping back to lay across the desk. "Simon..."

Simon grit his teeth, winced, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally prepared for Maddie to freak out and tell him never to talk to her again. "Yeah...?"

Instead, "When did you learn how to do that?" she surprised him.

Simon blushed crimson and whipped his head toward her. He was on the ground, back against the wall, tucked beneath the blackboard with his knees up, hand over opposite wrist. He studied her expression as she finally maneuvered off the desk on wobbly legs and began to dress herself.

"It's not like I had practice," He confessed, unsure if sharing was caring in this situation. He did anyway, "I just...listened." To her sounds; the whimpers and sighs and perfect, songbird moans of ecstasy he'd seduced from her with his fingers and mouth. Fuck, that'd been everything Simon had ever wanted. He'd yearned for the chance to give Maddie that kind of pleasure for longer than he would admit. Only, now that he'd had it, he wasn't sure how to process it.

Once dressed, Maddie plopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and looped her arms through his as she spoke, "You are a very good listener."

He couldn't help it, Simon snorted and hung his head, smiled in relief, "Thanks, that means a lot." After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, he asked, "Do we know what that was?" Too afraid to question whether or not there was a chance it would happen again.

"I bet she knows." Maddie said as she glanced up at Simon, "We should probably go find her and Wally."

Her head was still on his shoulder, the way she'd rested it angled her face exactly right for Simon to gently lean down and press his lips to hers. Soft. Hesitant. And then firmer, harder, his body turning, one arm snaking around Maddie's shoulders while the hand of the other cupped her jaw.

"We should really go..." She whispered, but she didn't move.

Simon agreed, "Yeah," and didn't release her, both coming together again in a slow, deep kiss.

A sharp knock on the door pulled them apart, Wally's voice calling through, "You guys have pants on or should we come back later?"

They heard you yelp and demand, "What do you mean do they have pants on!?" And then, clearly not having seen who Wally saw, "WHO doesn't have pants on!?"

Before Wally answered for them, Simon called back, "We're coming!" to which he heard Wally snicker and gloat, I bet you are. Simon glowered at the door. Maddie laughed, fuller and freer than he'd heard since she'd been kicked into the metaphysical world. He hadn't even come to terms with the fact that, because soul-ties were a thing and now he and Maddie were part of your weird, cosmic family, Simon could hug, touch, kiss Maddie's ghost. It was surreal. Incredible. A little terrifying.

Maddie stood first and held a hand out to him, yanking him to his feet when he took it. He did up his fly and smoothed his hair back before taking her hand. They stood, staring at each other, Maddie's eyes openly admiring Simon in a way that made his heart race and his skin prickle. Wow. He felt complete, whole, at the peak of happiness, and he never wanted it to end.

Hand in hand, he walked her to the classroom door. Simon was both giddy and grateful that she didn't tug away or demand he let go of her even after he opened the door and stepped into the hall to meet you and Wally—equally as disheveled, he noted. Grass stains on the knees of your jeans and his sweatpants; your hair sex-mussed and his smile far too satisfied to be from anything else. Simon glanced back at Maddie who adjusted their position, led his hand to her waist, and curled into his side. Like a lover. She looked beautiful and pleasured and a little sugarglazed after three orgasms and Simon couldn't help himself. He preened. And then got down to business.

"Talk." Simon said, giving you a significant look.

Your response, "We're high on ascension," explained nothing, yet Simon understood. Because Maddie had told him about Dawn and had managed to explain enough about what she'd been experiencing right before Simon had picked her up and pinned her to the desk.

Everyone was floating on some sort of post-Dawn's-crossing-over buzz as if they'd collectively inhaled an aphrodisiac. When he took stock of himself, he realized he still felt it. That liquid hot desire coursing through him, less intense but there. He could read the signs of that intoxication all over you and Wally. He'd seen it on Charley's face before Charley had muttered something about the Art room. And Ajay, who'd loped off to the theater. And Rhonda, who'd grouchily stomped in the direction of the library before she'd called back to inform, I'm going to find Bernie, whoever that was.

Jesus, they'd been drugged.

"Are we gonna regret this later?" Simon had to ask, worrying his bottom lip, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.

You must've picked up on what he couldn't say since, addressing Maddie, you said, "It's not like drinking too much. I'd say it's more like an anti-depressant. The good feelings already inside you have space to grow and you can't ignore them." You continued to explain what ascension actually was and then added, "I mean, you don't feel like fucking me, do you?" Also directed to Maddie.

The silence that followed made Simon's head whip up and his jaw drop. Thankfully, Maddie seemed to simply be considering the question and doing an internal scan, because she eventually shook her head.

"As cute as I think you are, I'm not coded like that."

"Same, babes," followed by, "Whether or not you guys regret it will have to be a conversation you have," you shrugged as Wally crowded closer to you, clearly not having appreciated the idea of sharing you if Maddie had said yes. If you'd even go for it, of course. Which planted quite the image in Simon's mind and, oh God, when would this stuff work itself out of his system, please and thank you?

"Where are the others?" You wondered, dragging Simon back down to earth.

He cleared his throat, blinking and shaking his head to drive away the cotton slog that kept creeping in. "Charley went to the Art room, Rhonda...went in the direction of the library—" Wally choked "—and Ajay said something about the theater."

Everyone sobered when Simon mentioned Ajay; downcast eyes and tight expressions of regret. Mina's absence meant Ajay didn't have someone to share that pure, radiant delirium with. Or maybe he'd found her, Mina drawn out of hiding by lust.

"We should split up and find the others. We need to figure out what our next moves are."

"No offense," Simon began, casting Maddie a bashful look, "But I don't think I have it in me to come up with next moves right now. I'm still...kind of..."

"Horny?" Wally supplied, grinning like a goof.

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

Your determination was admirable. "Alright, what if we split up, and Maddie and I go together?"

Together, "No!" Simon and Wally rejected the idea immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "Guys, my brother is trapped in an abandoned house, Maddie's mom might be responsible for why she's a ghost, Amelia knows where I live, fuck knows where Dave is and what he knows, and if I'm not back at Xavier's before midnight, Sheriff Baxter is going to raid every building in Split River. We need to focus."

"She says like she isn't fondling her dead boyfriend," Simon commented, brow raised and eyes fixed on where your hand was on Wally's ass.

"Oh, shut up, I can still prioritize." You defended, glowering at Simon even as your cheeks pinked adorably.

"She's right," Maddie said and gave Simon a pleading look that he couldn't argue with if he wanted to. "I need to find out what happened to me. And if..." She swallowed, "and if my mom is the one who hurt me. She was here that day. I don't remember everything, but she was drunk and we argued. It was really bad..." Trailing off, Maddie stared at her boots, body trembling slightly under Simon's hand.

He brought her closer, kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her to encase her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, let's go get the others and come up with what we wanna do next." He deferred to you for first steps.

"You said Charley's in the Art room? You guys go get him. Wally and I will grab Rhonda from the library, and then Ajay from the theater. We'll meet back at the fence. Good?"

"Good." Wally, Maddie, and Simon echoed.

You beamed, "Good. And no delays!"

Simon studied you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "You're still fondling your dead boyfriend."

You repeated his words in a mocking cadence and simply dragged Wally down the hall, leaving Maddie and Simon to laugh at your and Wally's backs.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was riding high on ascension, whistling a tune he hadn't heard in years (Everybody Wants to Rule the World, and he didn't care what Charley said, it was a hit), literally skipping and jiving down the hallway toward the library. He serenaded you with the lyrics as he pulled you into a loose and silly Two Step; twirled you, lifted you, kissed you breathless because he couldn't imagine doing anything else ever again.

When you and he reached the book return bins, Dawn's piece of the metaphysical school, the flicker of a flashlight caught Wally's attention. Instantly, he scooped you up and placed you on top of the bins, made sure you were safe and hidden before he approached the mouth of the hallway. On that same wave of whimsy, Wally finger snapped like a Greaser in a musical toward Security Guard Al, belting the chorus right into the man's face as Al halted his trek around the corner.

Al stood for a moment, staring directly through Wally to the other end of the hall, and then, repelled by Wally's ghostly energy, went right on his way. Back toward the office where he'd fish another donut out of the box the secretary had left him and watch the second half of the movie he'd been playing before his start-of-shift rounds.

Wally grinned, pleased as punch, and returned to you, arms outstretched to pluck you from the top of the bins. He didn't put you down, though. Rather, he had you wrap your legs around his waist so he could spin you around and then press you against the wall. You laughed, partly at his antics, but mostly from the tingly remnants of Dawn's undiluted ascension. You slipped out of Wally's hold, feet on the ground, back against the wall, and gazed up at him.

In return, Wally towered over you, one arm propped on the wall above your head, opposite hand lifting to trail his fingers down the slope of your jaw, thumbprint grazing your lips. God, he loved you so much he was crazed from it. He had to tell you. A million times would never express it enough, but he wanted you to hear it, feel it, feel him.

"I love you, baby." Wally murmured as he leaned in and brushed his lips across yours. A barely-there tease that he let linger for a moment before he pressed in, hard and wanting. He hoisted you into his arms again, one hand on the curve of your ass, his hardening cock humping against your pussy through your jeans and his sweatpants. "Fuck, baby, I can't—this stuff is insane," He groaned after he nipped your earlobe. "I need you again, baby, please. I can't think."

"Yeah," You breathed, grinding back against him, "Yeah, okay. We can be quick, right?"

Wrong.

But Wally didn't want to say anything that would deter you from being carried to the boy's locker room—just down the nearby stairs and to the right—and fucked against the tiles under a warm shower. It was a fantasy Wally suddenly had to play out. He'd die all over again if he didn't. And you didn't want him to die again, did you?

"Do you, baby?"

You laughed, "No, Wally, I don't want you to die again."

He grinned into the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise over your pulse point, "Good girl."

Wally didn't care that the library—and Rhonda and Bernie—were right there. He needed you naked and soapy and on his cock five minutes ago. The journey to the locker room was interrupted by various breaks to pin you to walls and ravish you with kisses and desperate touches, Wally's hands groping everywhere he could reach. When he finally got you into the locker room, his cock was throbbing, a stain of precum blossoming through the fabric of his sweatpants.

You and he stripped in a frenzy, playful and carefree. You threw your jeans at his head, he grabbed you around the waist when you tried to dodge him, both you and he laughing like there wasn't a resurrectionist cult out to manipulate ghosts and perform deadly rituals. Wally manhandled you into the showers, your knees hooked over his arms, his cock driving into you from below as he held you easily against the tiles. He could see it in you, that his strength turned you on.

"You like it when I have you like this, baby?" He whispered darkly in your ear, one, two, three powerful thrusts before you answered with a beautiful keen and your pussy gripped his cock tighter. "Fuck, that's it baby. You take me so good, don't you?"

"Y-yes," You mewled, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock. "God, Wally, harder, please, I need it harder..."

And, Jesus Christ, that made whatever remained of his control snap. He granted your wish, hips snapping in sharper strokes as he brought you down on his cock harder. He could do this all night. All day. Forever. He wanted this forever. He wanted you forever.

Forever, fuck, please, let me have her forever, Wally begged whatever higher power would listen, fucking into you with abandon, a slave to his lust. You began to tremble into his arms, crying out on every hard upstroke until he felt you squeeze around him. And then, God, yes, and then his own release hit him like a fucking train.

After, he sunk to his knees, adjusted his arms so he could hold you properly. Wally panted into your throat as warm water streamed over you and him, steam clouding the air, the perfect cocoon to escape in and pretend the world didn't exist. Just for another minute. Just one...

However, it was several minutes (an hour) later when anyone showed up to the fence. Maddie and Simon were more disheveled. Rhonda was brazenly wearing Bernie's top and nothing else. Charley's neck was a Jackson Pollock of love bites. And Ajay was doing his best not to look anyone in the eye.

You and Wally were the last to arrive.

Oops.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the woods just outside of town, Dave paced a trench in the loam, hands waving frantically as he ranted, "That manifesting little bitch!"

Leaned casually against the side of Dave's car, arms folded, unimpressed, Sheriff Baxter scoffed, "You think it's her fault your plan isn't coming together?" He pushed off the car and straightened, cracked his neck, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Have I taught you nothing? I told you it was better done in one shot, yet you insisted to do it this way and now look where we are!"

Dave whirled around and marched toward Sheriff Baxter, "We tried doing it the old way, remember? It failed! One more disaster in this shit town and we'd be found out."

"Such a childish thing to say. Who would ever believe it?" Sheriff Baxter leveled Dave with a hard look. "Magic doesn't exist outside of movies and fairytales these days. We could've done it and moved on by now."

"You weren't arguing when I suggested it, mother." Dave growled, "In fact, you supported it fully, if I recall. All because you refused to seek out new land."

"Don't put this on me, Amelia." Sheriff Baxter stood taller, his expression menacing. Dave shrunk, cowed, and obediently stepped back. "We're running out of time. That little shit you foolishly trusted has taken my vessel and now the ghost I warned you to demolish is speaking the others into ascension. We either do this now or we fade into nothing. Do you understand?"

Dave didn't take his eyes off the ground, "Yes mother."

"I suppose I have to step in and clean up your mess. Again."

"I can—"

With fire in his eyes, Sheriff Baxter snapped, "You have made it abundantly clear that you absolutely CAN. NOT." A tense pause. "You have until tomorrow night to find the girl. If you don't, I am leaving you to this world, Amelia. Your vessel is mine and your soul will be no more than a hole in the Awen."

Dave gasped, visibly terrified. There was no doubt in his mind that his future depended entirely on finding Janet Hamilton in Maddie Nears' withering body. If he didn't, his fate would be worse than ceasing to exist. Amelia's soul would be so thoroughly obliterated, it would be as if she had never existed at all.

💀___________________________

PART SEVEN - PART NINE

note: happy Valentine's Day, my beauties 💐 i hope you enjoyed this installment. i'm starting to crave the second season, but i'm still on best behavior. haven't even had a peek *wails in starvation* i really wanna get the next couple of installments out so i can change that, so let's pray that i can bring everything together sooner rather than later... seriously. pray for me 🥹

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ABOUT THE TAGLIST: we're not about that life around here (•¯ ∀ ¯•) things got too outta hand and i'm still cleaning up the mess left behind by the demons i accidentally summoned trying to get the damn thing to work 🕳️👹......there's a dustpan over there if you feel like helping 🧹💨 or, if you just wanna stay up to date, please FOLLOW ME and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS.

[scorpio1205]

WE BECAME PARENTS FOR 24 HOURS!!! (TO EGGS) Ft Bambi

Summary: Bambi, Matt, Nick and Chris became parents to eggs for 24 hours

Warnings: swearing, fluff, Matt being a simp, Matt being in love, cuddling being 'parents', Bambi being over the triplets shit lol

"For the next 24 hours... You can call us daddy"

Matt and Chris' mouth fell open in shock, turning to each other and awkwardly laughing.

"What on earth possessed you to say that on camera?!" Bambi laughed walking into the frame in shock.

"I honestly don't even know"

She laughed grabbing a Fanta from the fridge "So what does that make me? Cause i'm sure as hell not a daddy?"

Matt smirked slightly with raised eyebrows and a slight head tilt, as if wanting to make a joke or comment.

She moved behind him her hands running into his hair "Don't even think about it, baby."

He closed his eyes for a moment leaning into her touch "Alright."

"To clarify for the next 24 hours Me, Matt, Bambi, and Chris are going to become parents of-"

"little eggies."

"Little baby. Little baby eggs."

"I'm just here to beat you three." Bambi mumbled before opening her soda with her teeth.

Matt snickered "Eggs, so delicate... They can crack."

"that's morbid"

"For the next 24 hours, us four are going to have to be parents to these little egg babies.... They don't have faces or identities yet so we're going to spend the next few minutes-"

Chris was tossing his egg up in the air repeatedly. "Stop! Stop"

"Okay, so you all saw that mess. We all have new eggs and are cleaned up." Bambi laughed as the video cut back in, her sitting on Matt's lap.

"3 new eggs cause Bam was able to keep her egg out of Chris' grasp." Matt laughed softly "Already a better parent then all three of us."

"We cleaned up the crime scene that was in front of us"

It wasn't long before Nick Matt and Chris started talking over each other.

"You're doing great sweetie." Bambi mumbled annoyed with the bickering.

Taking the hint they got to the point, Matt and Chris drawing on their eggs as Nick went over the rules.

****

"Alright here's our eggs. My egg" Nick showed his egg. "This is Chris' egg" he showed Chris' egg on the screen.

"He has a red hat on"

"Yep" Both Nick and Bambi spoke with a snicker.

"This is Bambi's egg" He showed Bambi's egg making her smile cutely. "And this is Matts egg"

Bambi smiled happily "Mine's the cutest."

Bambi sat in the passengers seat her egg in her hands where it had been all day, she loved the boys but when it came to challenges like this.... She didn't trust them. But she looked up confused as Matt pulled over. "What?"

"I think I cracked my egg"

"WHAT?!?" Nick immediately handed her the camera to vlog it. "Show the vlog."

She pointed the camera "I'm showing the vlog"

"this isn't fair cause I have to drive."

"Give me your baby. I'll take care of it." Nick grabbed the egg.

"Hold him"

"Don't worry" Nick smiled "Since the four of us are amazing parents we're taking our eggs outside for some Adventure time"

"Its crazy that we're only going outside to bring our eggs out"

"Our kids" The two began to go back and forth.

Bambi rolled her eyes at them "If you guys start bickering we're turning this car around."

"Sorry Bambi" Nick and Chris both mumbled immediately, not wanting to annoy Bambi.

****

They were all at the beach when Chris looked at Bambi who was on the swings. "Bam-Bam"

"Yo"

"What's your eggs name?"

She got quiet for a moment for smiling "Evangeline"

Matt tilted his head at her with a soft smile. "Why Evangeline?"

"Evangeline is the star from The Princess and The Frog.... It's one of my favorite movies" She grinned sheepishly.

"Okay, she won" Nick grumbled a bit.

"So, we have to get up in the middle of the night to comfort the 'babies'" Bambi cut off both Matt and Nick who were trying to get the point across but kept bickering. "I'm not doing it for 10 minutes though. I don't have kids yet for a reason. So can we cut that time in like half" She put the egg in the box next to Matt's egg

"Yea, I wanna be able to go back to sleep. I wanna be able to keep my tired, so I can go back to sleep."

"Okay, so for three minutes then?"

Bambi nodded getting up "Fine by me"

****

Bambi groaned in frustration as Matt's alarm went off to go cradle the eggs. "No"

"Here" He mumbled handing her his pink Hershey teddy bear shirt and a pair of boxers, as she was.....not exactly dressed

She sat up taking the clothes from him getting dressed as he stumbled out of the room in his pj's and a blanket wrapped around him.

As the triplets sat on the couch grabbing their eggs "Where's bam-bam?"

"She'll be out in a sec" Matt spoke barely above a whisper.

Just then Bambi stumbled out of the room tiredly running her hand through her......'bed' head, before grabbing her egg and crawling under Matt's blanket with him. "Start the timer" She mumbled gently rocking the egg.

"I always forget she's not as nice when she first wakes up." Nick mumbled.

"Your mother."

"Bambi" Matt grumbled.

She sighed "I'm sorry, Mary Lou is the sweetest woman I know. What I really mean is, your fucking face."

A tired Chris started laughing softly pointing at Nick. "She got you man."

The camera cut a bit where Matt was sitting up with Bambi half asleep in his lap still rocking the egg tiredly.

"How've you guys been sleeping?" Nick mumbled to Matt and Bambi still mostly tired.

Matt shook his head and Bambi groaned a bit "not good."

"Why?"

".....We fell asleep like an hour ago."

Nick made a face "We went to sleep like 4 hours ago-" He cut himself off seeing the look on Matt's face. "Oh" he made a grossed out face.

"You asked"

The next several hours were pretty uneventful. Until the end. Nick Matt and Chris dropped their eggs and Matt's broke. Whick lead them to where they were now, Watching a video Matt made and edited talking about how he replicated, stole, and ate Nick and Chris' eggs.

"....Is it bad i've never found you hotter?" Bambi spoke after her, Nick and Chris sat silently for a few minutes.

Matt grinned kissing her head "Case in point to you two... Don't fuck with me."

Comments:

User414: Did Matt and Bambi just imply that the reason they were up so late was cause they were.... you know....

User222: Bambi walking out in MATTS shirt and boxers is wild

User778: SHE HAD SEX HAIR!

User111: Honestly.... Bambi's a mood

@sturnmeovr @big-poppa23 @colorthecosmos444 @sturns-mermaid @mattsstarlet @iammattswife @pinksturns @courta13 @conspiracy-ash @middlepartmatt @raesturns @mattscherries @emely9274 @harls-sturn @loser41ifee @trevorsgodmother

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws

[fatedstrands]

Astarion smiles at the broker, easily taking center stage again so he can fade to the background when his mind made him need to be hidden. He places himself firmly between Jayce and the ring of members, a guard to keep him out of their view.

"As you can see, each window, door and internal pieces were installed with devices. My colleague couldn't enter the building at first but found a way in due to a small vulnerability." He explains calmly, Jayce's eyes flicking to Badou but he focuses entirely on Astarion.

"So you admit it wasn't guarded." Mel speaks up, earning a soft huff from the elf.

"It was highly guarded with the tools that my client had at the time. If he had been sanctioned by the academy and given their more in depth protections, this never would have happened. That, and my colleague has been my apprentice since he was young. A few thousand years gives one an upper hand with breaking into places. Wouldn't you agree, Heimerdinger?" His smile is thin, curt, earning the critter more stares. "Though, I suppose I could say the same to you, Irius. I distinctly remember something about a decade ago-"

"Enough!" The synthetic whirring of the mans machines sparked with panicked anger, earning a shrug from the elf.

"What is your point in all of this?" Heimerdinger's voice rose up, eyes staring down at the elf who just hummed.

"Magic would have prevented the break in in the first place." The room grew tense, the machine already arguing about magic destroying his race, but the elf just clicked his fingers, a resounding click forming on window coverings and the door moments before there was thudding on the other side.

"Illegal use of-"

"Section five paragraph eight of the magical treaty act states beings of magic can use such for survival and thriving purposes so long as it doesn't upset the balance of society, through destruction, devastation or causes severe issues with infrastructure." He counters before she could finish, flicking a hand at Mel to make her sit back down.

It's then that he flashes a wide grin, revealing the elongated fangs, the veil on his eyes dropping so blue becomes red.

"Now that we're all locked in a room with a vampire with magic, let's perk our ears and listen yes?" He produces the blue orb, earning tension from Jayce and everyone else who knew. "This is a raw arcane stone, is it not?"

"Yes, please be careful with that! It's what caused the explosion." Jayce whined slightly in his fear, which had Astarion grinning.

"How sensitive is this stone Jayce?" He turned to the man now who shifted, ducking his head. "From your knowledge, I know it's still new to you."

"Dropping it from chest height on an adult would likely cause it to grow reactive, any further jostling would cause an explosion like what happened in my shop." He looks to his feet as whispers spill out around the court. "It was just trying to-" When red turned to him he fell quiet, though looked more like a kicked puppy.

"Raw arcane stones are hard to come by and highly picky when handled incorrectly. However, you'd devised mechanical casings for these stones to be safe for transport. Something unheard of." He then rolls the orb in his hand. "You know something else that would protect these from their destructive habits?" He looks to Jayce who just shakes his head uncertainly.

It's then Astarion pelts the stone at the council, everyone screaming in shock, only for it to crack the stone, imbedding in the surface harmlessly. Everyone stared in horror and confusion, all except heimerdinger.

"A high level mage infusing a small magical barrier that causes the stone to be stable, even when pelting it at the full force of a well fed vampire." This had eyes slowly turning to him, lips curling. "But most of you would know that, wouldn't you?" He smirked as they all looked uncertain, unsure.

"Oh... Oh right, they stopped teaching about magic nearly a century ago, didn't they? Because of the manic mages or something, right. So you wouldn't know how to deal with magical issues such as this." He clicked his tongue before shaking his head, turning to Jayce. "Now. What was it you were wanting to do with your technology. You can say it now." Jayce looked uncertain, but he shifted.

"I was trying to create magic, harnessed by technology, for those in need." When eyes fell on him, he shifted stronger as Astarion did. "I was so close, I just got the last of what I needed, I would have had a breakthrough if-" he stops, deflating, because he had no proof he was close.

"You know. I'm not the best with all this tech stuff, but in my prime, we called people like you artificers." Jayce looked to him then, hope building as Astarion smiled. "Back then, technology terrified the masses because it wasn't 'natural'. Yet here we stand, surrounded by it." He smiles, facing the council again.

"Had my client had access to the protections he was working for, or been allowed a mage to aid his protection of the stones, the event never would have happened. Despite this, his guards prevented the debris from falling to the street, piled instead on the balcony and against the released netting from his machines. No one was in danger due to his personal paranoia around the items he was using." He heard the shouting from beyond the door, simply smiling to them as he stood boldly in the sunlight spotlight despite his species.

"He did everything in his power to protect the people whilst chasing progress, just as he'd been taught to by the academy, by the council, by the high society. Only, the progress he was hunting, was to benefit the workers and lower class, to help them and better their lives, just as his sponsors had taught him." He watches everyone grow uncertain.

"You aren't meant to be here." It's small, a tiny argument from the human Torman.

"Those doors don't open until my client is freed. There is no wrong doing here. I ask for one month for him to prove his thesis. I suspect after that month, the council will be begging for him to work with them." There was scoffs and snorts all around.

"One week." Mel cut through the nonsense, earning Astarion's interest.

"One week and I get to aid him as an Arcane advisor and aid." He plucks the glowing stone from it's resting place, chucking it to Badou. "Lest we have another explosion due to thieves. A fancy place like that with all those strange pieces of tech made a target despite it being for other's safety. Magic is much more subtle." When everyone stared blandly Heimerdinger spoke up at last.

"One week, with the academy's blessing. He can collect his things and work on academy grounds with my assistant. His work is not to leave the grounds." Astarion bowed, the magic on the doors and windows releasing as he did. "The guards will uncuff mister Jayce and you are hereby ordered to remain at his workspace to ensure nothing goes wrong. Moving forward, it's on your neck, Astarion Ancunin." The elf winked to the critter before turning to the enforcers looking puzzled that they weren't taking the elf out, but led the trio back down out of the room.

"I told you you'd play a minor role, Badou." The elf purred to his apprentice.

Badou had spent the last couple of days working with little sleep, and only whatever food he could eat quickly and without much fuss or thought. He'd worked hard to get all the information he thought they'd need for this trial, to get Jayce the best defense they can-- even if they can't get him completely out of trouble, at least let him stand a chance!

He also wasn't informed until the last minute that he'd have a part in this play, so that was just great. He would have....well, not changed or anything.

When that light hits him, he squints, then squares his shoulders. The info broker lets that gaze flicker around the room before landing on Jayce. He mouths something, probably an apology, before he begins.

He opens the folder he's got and slides the pictures across that expansive table.

"Exhibit one-- the setting."

[butterfly--empress]

And Another Thing...

Because actually, the more I think about it, the more it just pisses me off...

If The main writer wanted this to just be a simple formulaic "magical girl powa" kids show that sells merch. With no overarching story plot.

MLB could've just simply BEEN that. A cutesy Sailor Moon inspired story!

MLB could've just BEEN an all female superhero team with Marinette as leader, Alya second in command, and Chloe and/or Kagami being her love rivals/friends for Adrien's affections.

And Adrien could literally just BE THE DAMN LUKEWARM LOVE INTEREST that she wins in the end. Because the Deuteragonist of this show, sure as shit ain't been him since at least S4, let's be so for real.

Nothing against Alya, I love her, but girlfriend has overshadowed what used to be Adrien's role.

But in this version of MLB, being an all girl team of superheroes with a secret identity. Marinette's absurd 'whacky' antics in this show could easily be ignored/deflected/handwaved away, if we never knew much about Adrien outside of him being a popular, good looking rich kid, whom Marinette crushes on and daydreams about often.

And TA doesn't have to twist himself into a pretzel to defend his poor writing choices, when the only POV that matters is Marinette's.

There would be no need for the lore, or vaguely changing it when he feels like it. Or worrying about the unnecessary drama of the whole 'they can't know each others identities' main plot that has all become meaningless.

The original main plot of the whole secret identities for romantic drama and the reason many of us were drawn to this show to BEGIN WITH, is moot when the writer constantly refuses to do ANYTHING with the setup he writes for himself.

He won't let none of his characters have any real development and growth and only seems to care about ONE-HALF of the original two man team.

And I'm over it. 4 episodes and a lame ass Special that literally excuses the main heroine's reasons for LYING to her One True Love has shown me this show is NOT interested in doing anything beyond what it's given.

All of us invested or holding your breath for any real progress with the romantic/main subplot are going to be waiting for naught.

I was already convinced but now I'm certain:

There will never be a big reveal. And if there is one, it'll be purposely left to the VERY end of the series. And it won't even be satisfying.

Nothing will EVER be done with the Lie. Why should it? Marinette finally has the boy she wants, and even if it ever got addressed, the writer would handle it in the most contrived way possible that somehow excuses Marinette's decision anyway.

How much you wanna bet, he'll just end up retconning his own story to SOMEHOW scapegoat Marinette's bullshit to be Lila's fault?

Or Chloe's? Because even when she's not around, not in the same school, city, or even country, the writer STILL finds a way to hate on Chloe.

No...wait even better! Adrien finally finds out and to avoid allowing Marinette to own up to her fucking mistake/betrayal of trust, she decides to 'sacrifice' her memories and being Ladybug...and oh my fucking god.

......This is why TA had Marinette entrust Alya as the new leader isn't it? He thinks he's so goddamn clever!

Marinette's gonna fuck up big time in this season and then get temporary or semi-permanent amnesia to forget EVERYTHING to avoid owning up to her mistakes?

And instead of people seeing the manipulative writing to handwave away how she's been very selfish and self-centered, and her need to control everything. People are going to praise TA for believing or redeeming her bad decisions/behavior on how much she was finally willing to 'sacrifice' herself for a change for Adrien.

*groans*....god this sounds even worse.

You know what, this post had a point and I spiraled again.

Oh yeah...MLB should've just been another inspired typical 5 teamed magical girl knock off because hoping the writer does anything worthwhile with his Deuteragonist, is just waiting for Levithan to reveal itself from the deep, dank, ocean depths, and in this timeline the world's in rn, that's actually more plausible than hoping for meaningful character arcs after 6 seasons of MLB...

[guthraiel]

officially finished kcd 2 so now im gonna complete the younger hans and henry meeting fic and some art wips i have because my brain is overtaken by this game HOLY FUCK

(spoilers under cut but its just my rambling mentioning the ending and some plottwists really)

ive been a hansry truther since the first game in the sense that henry is sooo clearly a bisexual loser and so is hans. imo the two most logical choices for henry's romance are hans and theresa, who, in each of the games they're romancable in are the ones who henry has known and trusted longest. theresa in KCD 1 is his childhood friend, the one person who shares his survivors guilt and the memories of skalitz. while in KCD 2 hans is the one person who has been with henry throughout this whole thing and never really left his side (excluding the arguement at the start and the various kidnappings and being taken hostage)

like either way imo those are the most 'cannon' romances to henry and i really wish kcd 2 adressed the existence of theresa a bit. she's by far the most interesting woman in the franchise since warhorse does lowkey struggle to write women in a way that's logical. i mean the way every female around henry throws herself at him except his main LI's who all follow some version of the girlboss trope is... man come on. i actually do really like both rosa and katherine, but i think there could've been just a teensy bit more done with them

also like what the fuck is up with henry's mother. idk if her name or any personality being excluded is meant to be an artistic choice to show how henry remembers her as just 'mom' and ignores any other part of her character but like wtf. both radzig and martin get names, a backstory and a deep relationship with henry while his mother is just. there. i get that this is the 15th century but in the first game it's clear in the tutorial that hal and his mom are CLOSE like i wish we got to see a bit more of that tbh

i have words to say about samuel as a character but none of them are appropriate for tumblr so i will abstain. tldr i actually like him a lot henry getting a brother-butnotreally is actually really sweet. like despite the fact that he lost his family and everything dear to him there is still someone who cares about him in a familial way. i hope we'll het to see more of him in some of the upcoming dlcs although i doubt it since he can technically die during the game (and i'm pretty sure in a canon run you should leave him behind)

okay last point to the characters is one ive had since kcd 1 but THE NAMESSS WHY ARE THEY NAMED THATTT

henry of skalitz my ass bro THAT'S JINDRA 😭😭 jindříšek even!! like i get that ř may have been an issue but just have him be jindra instead of jindřich then???

hans capon is just a bit silly like jan ptáček could be a pronouncable name, not to mention there is SO many characters named jan already so even Jan Capon i could lowkey get behind more

also i do fully believe non czech speakers miss out on the game a bit, there are parts of bg dialogue that are in czech and add just a bit of humour and immersion to the game (like in taverns, markets or during henry's nightmare in suchdol where the skalitz/maleshov people hiss 'you killed us')

okay ttldr this game is really good i just needed to yap since my friends whove finished it dont share any of my sentiments

if u have thoughts to share please do im curious what impression others got

[breakyourrxles]

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟙𝟞

𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

↳ Sitting on the cusp of an irreversible decision, you effectively disappear, but your plans of doing so are thwarted by a couple of unexpected visitors showing up on your doorstep.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [7,4k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Thankfully, before the burden drives you mad, Woori's lips part slowly—no words spoken at first—and then eventually she says with the firmest resolution: "Are you insane?"

Upon returning to Seoul, you begin biding your time.

Emotions were running high when you said those words, and though they felt utterly truthful in the moment, you know yourself well enough to acknowledge the fact that they cannot simply be taken at face value, as they are. Not after that, not after everything you had only just come to discover.

Two days before MVNE's comeback showcase, you all but disappear.

An avalanche of calls, text messages and emails begin to cascade sooner than you had really anticipated. Suppose you thought it might take longer for people to realize that your being gone is not just a short skip off to the local cafe or the convenience store across the street. The majority of your belongings still reside in the dorm room that you've done your best to make your home—but the essentials are gone, and it is obvious enough to anyone with a mind to notice.

No time is wasted from the company's side, and with a cup of coffee in hand, you laugh to yourself as you read over the announcement of your alleged 'illness.'

They don't have any information about your whereabouts or the reasoning behind all of this, so they must err on the side of assuming that no conclusion on the matter is going to be reached in time for the showcase. You come to learn that you have 'flu-like symptoms' and your 'worsening condition' is of the utmost importance to all of them. Thus, you will be sitting out of MVNE promotions indefinitely, and further updates will be communicated at a later point in time.

Rimi's place doesn't feel as soulless now as it did the first time you ventured here.

The home is yours for as long as you need it, with Rimi off in Japan tending to business of her own. It is an excellent getaway spot that you could really only dream of in the event of being a runaway idol unsure of the future of your own career. You'll owe the company a substantial sum of money should you wish to terminate your contract early, you'll let down the rest of the girls, and ultimately; you'll also have failed yourself.

All of this weighs heavily on you, each point to be taken into careful consideration. The money is less of a concern, but the rest of your members are not deserving of as much of a tumultuous debut as they have already ended up in, and regardless of the bumps that have come to pass, success still awaits on the horizon; just out of reach, but close enough that you can see it.

What more could you have really asked for? This sort of debut, in this sort of group is the kind of thing that all aspiring idols pray about. 

And instead, you are here in Pyeongchang-dong running away from it. 

It has been hours since you last looked at your phone, knowing what awaits you there. You wonder if Sunwoo has heard yet—almost certainly he has now with the announcement having gone out—and if anyone knows it's fictitious, it's him.

Realistically, you know you cannot hide forever, and this point is driven home by the loud and untimely sound of someone at the front buzzing in from the intercom.

The sound of it startles you and nearly has you spilling hot liquid all over yourself, but you manage to gather yourself enough to not have to walk away from this with burn marks to accompany whatever humiliation you may face. Still, you turn and stare off towards a door that you cannot quite see from the couch that you've sat on another time before. 

Any of Rimi's friends should know that she is not here, which unfortunately means that any number of yours know that you are. 

Terribly unlucky, but whoever has come all this way is at least owed a conversation on the matter. You cannot run away from this forever, and eventually, the documents will need to be signed should that be the decision that you ultimately come to.

By the time your feet hit the cool marble of the floor, the buzzer is already sounding off again. This time, it is longer; less careful and brief in its alarming. Whoever is waiting on the other side of it has already grown tired of having done so, and through their only line of communication, urging you to hurry up and get this over with.

You rush over to the door, turn on the screen for the camera, and find a face that you had not at all been expecting to find staring back.

The gate crawls back against its track, the front door unlocks, and in only a few seconds time Woori has crossed the path and stands perched up in the doorway right in front of you.

Once the door has shut behind her, she only stares at you. A sort of incredulous look marks her features. Anger, disappointment, sadness… But most of all; concern.

"What's going on?" she asks, words laden with a breathless sigh as if she walked herself the whole way here. You recognize it for precisely what it is, however; a choking worry that like so many other things, this is one that is completely out of her control.

It's too late for this. Too late for all of the things that need to be said, to be said. Still, they must. Finally, the time has come where the weight of all of this can finally be relieved for better or for worse. A suicidal notion of freedom making you feel weightless in the face of any potentially disastrous outcome that awaits.

"We should talk," you say. The truth of it all resting in wait on your tongue. "For real, this time."

You tell Woori everything.

All of it, from the very beginning. You retell the history of how your friendship with Sunwoo began, how it blossomed into something you could have never anticipated, and how he was the one that not only told you about auditions opening up, but pushed you to swallow your reluctance and self-doubt to enter try-outs for yourself.

As you do so, you catch yourself reminiscing in it all as if it's a story about a person that you only vaguely know, not a recounting of your own life as you have lived it. In so many ways, it does not feel as though it is your story to tell. This is the story of another person, someone who perhaps once was you, but has long since splintered off into a person that you no longer see, much less recognize.

Woori holds a shallow glass of wine in her hand as you speak, but you're not sure that she ever sips from it. Her attention is wholly locked on you as you go over every minute detail of everything leading up until this very moment, as it all stands now.

You tell her about Juyeon, you tell her about Rimi and Kokoro, you tell her about Eric. You tell her about Sunwoo—completely truthful and in its entirety.

Heaviest of all, you tell her about the company.

When you finish, there is nothing left inside of you beyond a heavy sigh. The weight of so many lies, so much deception finally feels as though it has been lifted from you. It is something that you are unsure you can bear any longer, and so, you tell her that, too.

Picking at the skin around your nails to the point that it almost bleeds, you look down at the damage you have done. Your lips thin into a shape that so desperately wishes it could be a smile and you say, "So, that's everything. Honestly, this time." Eyes slowly creeping back up to find hers, you nod once and add, "Of course, I understand if you want me to withdraw from the group. I knew that it would probably come to this once it reached this point. It's something I'm willing to do quietly for the best of the rest of the members."

Woori stares at you in silence for a while, and for the most part, her feelings are utterly indecipherable. You do your best to try to pick out pieces of her thoughts that may be lingering on her features. A master of her craft, a completely impossible task. 

Thankfully, before the burden drives you mad, Woori's lips part slowly—no words spoken at first—and then eventually she says with the firmest resolution: "Are you insane?"

Your face drops. "In… In what way?"

"All of them, really," she says. Her arms jostle around her a bit and the untouched wine in her glass sloshes about as she demonstrates her exasperation. "But what I'm referring to specifically this time is about the leaving the group thing. Are you insane? Why would I want you to leave the group over something like this? Might I remind you, this entire time all I have ever been trying to do is minimize that being a potential outcome." Woori leans forward across the couch, squints at you and continues on to say, "You really think I believed that it was just going to be a one-and-done, never gonna happen again and certainly not going to escalate, thing? Of course I knew it was going to continue! I just wanted you to trust me enough to help you… Well, not end up here, I guess."

Your heart sinks hearing the words, and the truth of the matter is that the writing has always been on the wall. Woori's actions line up perfectly in relation to the words that she's saying now; you've never had a reason not to trust her beyond your own unwillingness and terror. You didn't trust her, and you wouldn't trust Sunwoo, either. Two people who have done nothing but extend themselves in an effort to minimize the impact of a decision that you were always going to make.

"Didn't really anticipate you going all scorched earth with Juyeon, though," she adds.

Groaning, you toss yourself back against the couch. "It wasn't exactly thought-out."

"And of course, it didn't scorch the earth, either. That guy really is just absolutely crazy about you."

Looking up towards the ceiling, you give time for the concept of that to truly wash over you. It feels new and old simultaneously and in ways that you find you don't quite have the means to articulate. Something you have known forever and yet, are only just discovering.

"I think he always has been."

"Obviously," Woori says, your obliviousness punctuated by her tone. "He wanted you to audition because he both wanted you to debut and because he wanted to close the otherwise insurmountable distance that would always stand between the two of you. Surely you understand that now."

"That night in Germany… I told him I wanted to quit, that I didn't want to do this anymore. I don't know why but I thought he'd be happy about it. I expected him to be glad because if one of us isn't doing this anymore then at least it's only one person's career that's hanging in the balance, you know?"

Cocking her head slightly, Woori looks at you with a sort of knowing grin pressed into her lips and she says, "But he wasn't happy, was he?"

Slightly shaking your head, you recall the moment as if even now you cannot help but disbelieve the way that it had all played out. "Nope, not at all. Not even a little bit."

"If the cost of being with you means sinking your career then it's not worth it to him," she reasons. To her, you realize, this is all the most simplistic thing in the world. "He'd rather watch from afar and weather the treacherous storm of his feelings forever. Sunwoo isn't a bad guy, you should give him a little bit more credit than that. You've wanted this for years; you've trained and auditioned, suffered and overcome the sort of breakneck-paced schedule from debut to now that a lot of people would not even survive, much less thrive in. You thrive. He's not going to let you throw it away when all it means is that you still have to suck face in the privacy of unmarked cars and hotel rooms. It's not like it would really make that much of a difference to your lives. The two of you will never be holding hands walking down the street."

Your head flops lifelessly to the side so that you can look at Woori once more and you say, "And the rest of MVNE? This is all going to become a situation now. I've disappeared and they're going to start investigating. They're going to find out, it's no longer a matter of if, but when. So, what's going to happen when the meeting is called and they motion for my withdrawal?"

"Then we fight it, stupid." Woori squints at you like she doesn't understand why you're asking the question, at all. "Groups have done it before. If they want to play stupid games then they can win all of the stupid prizes they could ever ask for, and we have nine more where you came from."

The smile that creeps up on your face precludes the tears that otherwise threaten to come. Instead, Woori scoots across the expensive furniture and wraps her strong arms around you in an embrace that you have needed to feel from her for a long, long time. 

She has always been on your side, you only needed to allow her to be.

With a sniffle and the nonchalant wiping of her hand across her eye, Woori flashes you a smile and adds in: "By the way, I have something to confess, myself. You have to promise you won't be mad, though."

Reluctantly, you agree to her terms.

Digging her phone out of her bag, she swipes and taps across the screen for a moment before simply setting it down into her lap and staring at you with a wide and fairly unnerving smirk.

"Wha—"

Before you can get the question out, a loud chime resonates through the entirety of the home. It frightens you, first and foremost, unfamiliar with the intricacies of a place of this magnitude, before eventually coming to realize that you suppose it must be the doorbell. 

Why a house with a gate, buzzer and security at the front of the neighborhood needs a doorbell, you may never really know.

Woori appears unperturbed by this which, when coupled with her alluding statement prior, leads you to believe that whatever—or whoever—this is, is a concoction of her own making. Your being here is not meant to be a reunion of any kind, and so it is not at all ideal that more people come to learn of the fact that you are here. Unfortunately, whoever it is is already here, and so you have no other choice than to face what awaits you.

And if your meeting with her today has taught you anything, it is that you have no reason not to trust her.

Making your way down the hall, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror hung against the wall. You look terrible; barely slept, barely eaten, barely cared for yourself and especially not your appearance in the last couple of days leading up to your eventual vanishing. It's not a great time for visitors, but maybe that's just the idol in you talking.

You don't turn the security screen on before opening the door. Just another small signal of your willingness to let go.

The door pulls open slowly, and suppose you didn't know what to expect once you reached this foyer; only that this most certainly wasn't it.

"Crazy person delivery," Sunwoo says. "You thought you could disappear to Pyeongchang-dong and I just wouldn't find out about it? Yeah right!"

Stunlocked, Sunwoo gently pushes his way inside and before the door even has a chance to close, you hear Woori shouting from the living room. "Don't take credit for the fact that you're here! I told you to come! You're not a detective!"

Sunwoo rolls his eyes, leans in towards you and whispers, "Romance is dead, huh? Can't even pretend I tracked you down out of pure adoration and spite anymore." He turns his head back towards where the voice had come and then shouts, "You can't talk to me like that! I'm your senior!" Then, back towards you he goes. He says, "I love pulling that out of a hat when I need it, works every time."

Eyes wide and still standing in silence, you stare at Sunwoo as if you expect the vision of him to dissipate any moment now. He kicks his shoes off and pulls the hoodie over his head to hang up by the door. His hair is a mess, but he's wearing make-up. Has he just come from a schedule? How did he get here? You have a lot of questions but no idea where to start.

Then Woori arrives at the entryway, flashes you a smile, and begins gathering her things.

This is enough to break you from your trance. Your sights dart from her, to Sunwoo, back to her and as she pulls on her shoes you say, "Wait, you're leaving?"

"Yeah! I can't stay here, it'll be a much bigger situation if we both go off the grid, don't you think? Besides, I have to talk to the girls, we need a game plan going forward."

"You're leaving him here? With me?"

Woori flashes you a sort of condescending look and then says, "Oh yeah, I'm sure you're really bummed about that."

Glancing back towards Sunwoo, he is idly meandering around the home and taking in the sights. As far as you can tell, his attention is so far from the conversation you are having with your bandmate and in fact, he appears far too content for how absurd this whole thing has now become.

"Wait! How is he getting back?" you ask.

Pausing, Woori appears as though she considers the question for all but a second, shrugs, and says, "I don't know. Ask him."

"How are you getting back!?"

Sunwoo's head snaps towards you, as if he is not anticipating being addressed at all. "Manager? How else would I get anywhere?"

Closing your eyes, you press the heel of your palms hard into them in hopes that at some point, you will no longer feel like the most logical person in the room.

"Anyway, I'm going," Woori announces, the door in front of her already ajar. "I don't know if it's wise to text from now until you're back home, so stay safe and you're welcome back whenever you're ready. I would say don't do anything stupid but…" Her attention draws towards Sunwoo specifically. "He's already here and you already did, so. There's that."

Sunwoo's face twists mockingly. "Very funny!"

"See you!"

The door shuts, Woori disappears behind it, and now only you and Sunwoo remain in the quiet, empty liminality of a Pyeongchang-dong mansion.

In the privacy now allotted to you, the hours pass by through simple, affectionate touches and light kisses that linger on your skin long after the lips that left them have departed.

As the time dwindles, however, you are forced to come to terms with your lack of planning as far as being in this space is concerned. Rimi does not live here full-time—something you have known—but once the door to the refrigerator and numerous kitchen cabinets are opened, the realization becomes just that much more stark.

There is enough stress on your shoulders already, the weight of everything that follows you even this far away from the heart of it all. A hiccup such as this one feels insurmountable when faced with all the rest, but when you look at Sunwoo and his sort of effortless whimsy in spite of it, a small bit of the struggle is indeed chipped away.

Without a word, food arrives at the doorstep and you only become aware of it when the driver buzzes in from the driveway. Sunwoo quickly scrambles to his feet with a big smile and a brief glance back at you that insists for you to acknowledge that he has done a good job; he has, he always does, and that is sort of why you have landed yourself in this predicament to begin with.

"When's the last time we've shared a meal?" Sunwoo asks through a mouthful of noodles, "It has to be before you became a trainee, right?"

"There's the cafe, or that time we went across the street to the store after you were out drinking with the guys."

He shakes his head. "That doesn't count. Actually, that time I took you out after Idol Radio. That counts. Our first foray into what it might be like going forward."

"How could I have forgotten about that?"

Bent in half and leaning against the kitchen island, Sunwoo shoots a glance at you and says, "Because you were too busy stressing yourself into an early grave to even enjoy it, probably."

Perhaps there is some truth to that.

"At the very least," he adds, "This scenario is a little too life-altering to not remember it, so I have that going for me."

"I never even got around to asking Woori how she figured out where I was…" You take a bite out of a dumpling, grimace at its bizarre texture, and let it fall from your fingers back into the plastic container from which it came. "I probably have to start coming to terms with the fact that I'm not even half as clever as I think I am."

"Yeah, it would be a good time for that. Also, it's not hard to figure that out. She's friendly enough with the other guys to follow the breadcrumbs back to your friend."

You look at him with narrow eyes. "And then she decided it was a good idea to tell you."

"It was a good idea, because I'm probably the only person who can talk you down from making a truly insane career decision." Finishing his bite, Sunwoo pushes the cartons of food in front of him away, turns to give you his full attention and leads his thoughts with an already exhausted sigh. He says, "It's kind of funny looking back, because you used to be the one with your head screwed on right when it came to all of this, not me. I mean, I was just going along with it because really, you were right. But now…?"

A small pause follows as he thinks through his next step, but he arrives at it fairly quickly.

"Bit of an overcorrection, don't ya think?"

What little appetite you had originally leaves you entirely then. This conversation—a conversation that is so long overdue—is one that you knew would be rearing its ugly and uncomfortable head from the moment you saw Sunwoo walking in through that door. More realistically, however, it has been needed for months; since the first kiss, since all of the others after it, since that night in your dorm and since Sunwoo's overarching and unending willingness to bear all to you and receive little-to-nothing in return.

But especially since that night abroad.

The breath you take is an obvious one, and Sunwoo's eyes never leave you all the while. He grants you the quiet space you ask from him without a single word uttered, merely watching and listening for you to finally be willing to take this quest on and move forward with whatever your choice may be.

You know what you want, but can you have it?

With a fingertip idly tapping into the black marble countertop, your lips part to speak despite the way they feel utterly lost in your throat. 

And just before you manage a single word, Sunwoo stretches forward and takes your fidgeting hand into his, gently pulling you away and out of the kitchen.

"Let's get cozy," he says. "Being surrounded by knives is no way to navigate this sort of thing. Ya know, just in case I say something that doesn't land as I might have hoped it would."

"You think I'm going to stab you."

"I think it'd solve, like, most of your problems! Though it may raise a whole mess of other ones."

It takes much longer than anticipated to get the intricacies of the fireplace figured out, but once the flame comes to life, the tension melts and drains from your bones.

Sunwoo can't sit still, not until everything is perfectly in place according to whatever mental imagery he has concocted in his mind. He doesn't say it aloud, nor do you ask, but you know him well enough to understand that there is a particular series of events that must play out; an idea of a scene that exists in the theoretical that plagues the fantastical, dreamy hopeful in ways that you may never truly come to make sense of. A hopeless romantic in every sense of the word, and you have no other option than to allow him to go through the motions until it all comes to fruition.

Thus, pillows and blankets are thrown on the floor into a pile, and with the only thing left in the house being expensive wine, a bottle of that is popped open, too.

You watch him make his way back over to the middle of the living room with two empty wine glasses in one hand and the bottle in another. As usual, a loose hoodie and even looser jeans draped from his body and at a glance to anyone not knowing any better he could pass for someone with no business having the alcohol in hand.

Holding the items up for display, Sunwoo cracks a proud grin and says, "Okay, now we're ready. Romance isn't dead, after all!"

With glasses half-full and the fire quietly crackling ahead, the two of you take a moment to sit together in silence—offering nothing more. No words are spoken, no movements are made to close the physical distance and connect your bodies in any fashion whatsoever. In all truthfulness, you take the time to acknowledge Sunwoo's often overlooked emotional intelligence; always seemingly able to understand precisely what you want and need from him without even needing to utter a word.

Now, he knows that you do not wish to be pressed further for answers. The answers that the both of you seek already sit with you together in this vast, empty room. They will come in due time, and any urgency he could display is ill-suited for the delicacy of the topic at hand.

The first sip of wine you take is a bit longer and stiffer than originally intended to be, but once the harsh bitterness hits your tongue you realize that you're going to need just a little bit more liquid courage than you had hoped in order to finally lay your truth out onto the table.

It is difficult, but Sunwoo deserves this. Both of you do.

Turning to look at him, you hold the glass between both of your hands, cradling it far gently than what is necessary; just like your heart that you've been desperately hoping to shield from harm.

"So, I guess this is the end then," you say to start. Your voice trembles ever so slightly, and for once, you don't bother making an effort to steady it. "Or the beginning, I'm not really sure which it is yet."

"Both," Sunwoo says with a nonchalant shrug. "The end of one thing, the beginning of another. Both things can be true." Looking at you, he scoots himself a bit closer but still does not make physical contact of any kind. "It all depends on what you want, what you're willing to take on. It always has."

"It's going to be a nightmare, you know that."

"Yeah, for a while, but it'll pass. We don't have to go public, you know. That can be a problem for another day."

"I know." You take another sip, this one smaller than the one prior. "I guess I just feel like… It's better to take on the worst of it and just get it over with as quickly as possible, you know?"

"Yes, you're a doomsday-er, I've long since gathered that much." Sunwoo rolls his eyes, finally swaying himself enough to bump your shoulder with his own. He says, "The company situation is going to be bad enough, I'm not going to lie to you. Once they figure out that their little set-up didn't go to plan and that we figured it out and even worse, are moving forward with things…" He pauses, and for what might be the first time, you see the light wash of fear draped across his features. Eventually though, Sunwoo must catch himself in the midst of it all and he forces a smile, saying, "Well, let's just say it won't be the best day either of us have ever had!"

Your eyes fall down to the glass still clutched within your hands, and though your chest is tight and throat stinging with terror; what other options do the two of you have moving forward?

"We…" The word drips from your mouth slowly, bitter and heavy with the sort of vile falsehood that you promised yourself to never succumb to moving forward. It is a last ditch effort now—the final option—the only remaining time that the two of you have to cut your losses and try to move on with your hearts merely functionally intact. "We… Don't have to do this. If it's too hard, too much trouble. There's no glory in forcing it if it's the wrong choice."

Slowly turning to look at you, Sunwoo waits patiently for your eyes to drag upwards to meet him. What is there for you, however, is not a sadness or concern that you might have come to expect. Instead, a small smile tugs at a corner of his lips—at odds with the words you have just said before. What you find there is a truth that you realize you have been exerting far too much effort into ignoring, and now, that wall is suddenly crumbling away.

Sunwoo huffs a laugh out from under his breath, rolls his eyes and says, "You're ridiculous, you know that? Are you like, being obtuse on purpose, or something? Of course we have to do this…" Turning back to face the warm, ambient flicker of the fire, Sunwoo shakes his head gently as if still in disbelief of your unwillingness to accept what is now an unshakably obvious fact to the both of you. 

"I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for a while, which you have gone to impressive lengths to somehow not notice. So, yeah, we kind of do have to do this now, because it's too late and we're in too deep to just go on pretending it isn't what it is." His head falls back lazily, face tilted up towards the ceiling, clearly exhausted by your obliviousness. Fair enough. He says, "And I don't know if you realize this yet, but you're in love with me, too. If I have to act out this whole confession scene between the both of us just by myself I'm going to put my head in the fireplace. This is utterly excruciating."

A deep sigh rolls out from you, no point in arguing with the point and fighting this any further. "Yeah, I guess unfortunately I am."

"Unfortunately!?"

"Well, my life would certainly be much more carefree if that weren't the case."

"It'll be worth it," Sunwoo says, leaning to the side to rest his head on your shoulder. "They'll have to kill me to keep me away from you at this point, and while they definitely have nasty methods of trying to get what they want, I don't think they're willing to stoop down that low, at least."

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you linger in place there and quietly say, "You should go back. It's getting late and it's a long drive."

But to that, Sunwoo hums and says, "No, I don't think I will, actually." His tone is sarcastic, a little comically inclined that you know well enough alludes to something else on his mind that has not yet been spoken of. A stray fingertip finds the skin of your hip from underneath your sweater shortly thereafter, and for as much as he may understand you, in a lot of ways, the same can be said for you about him. "I can go back early in the morning and still make my schedule, I'd rather spend the night here with you."

"We have about five bedrooms to choose from," you say, attempting to play off the way that his insistence makes you feel. "Or we can stay here all night, your choice."

Mulling over his options for only a second of time, Sunwoo nods along with the decision it appears he has made and says, "I want the biggest one you got—with a bathroom! Truly living in the lap of luxury now!"

"Enjoy it while you can, who knows what awaits us in the morning."

Moving to stand and struggling to make it to his feet, Sunwoo groans along with the mere mention of having to return to his typical life. "I know exactly what awaits us in the morning, and it's going to be a nightmare, so let's put a pin in that for the rest of the evening and just… pretend that that isn't the case until we have no other choice but to face it. Deal?"

You nod, accepting the terms. "Deal."

With both of your bodies covered in a light sheen of sweat, Sunwoo—ravenous as he is idealistic—pries himself from your limbs and allows for new air to waft over your heated, sated skin. There is a long silence that follows once heaving chests find a more calmed rhythm, neither of you daring to utter the first word just yet. Perhaps he shares the thought that sits so pertinent in your mind: to enjoy this for what feels like the last time, even if it is not exactly that.

Instead of speaking, Sunwoo rolls to the far end of the bed and takes his phone into hand.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity paired with the strangeness of the action gets the best of you, proving that you no longer have the strength to continue along with the charade. Sunwoo continues typing for a moment without acknowledging your words, but it's not long before his head flops to the side, and a grin tugs at one corner of his lips.

"Telling my manager I'm not coming home tonight."

"I'm sure that will go over well."

He shrugs, slumped against a pile of messed up bedding and pillows. "Doesn't matter if it does or not. I'll make it back in time for schedules and I'll do my job just as well as I always do it. Shouldn't that be what's important? He doesn't want to babysit me any more than I want him to."

"A stern talking-to will be waiting, that's for sure. Running off with me is probably far from what he had been hoping for."

"He has known about us for a while," Sunwoo says, and the tone in his voice alludes to it being a completely inconsequential matter in ways that are not at all in line with the reality either of you are facing. Your face contorts into something that you can only imagine being read as horrified, and he huffs out a laugh as a result. "I mean, the guy has worked with me for a long time, and has been involved in enough of our passing matters to not be blind to the obvious writing on the wall. Yeah, it's not ideal the way this has all turned out but… Oh well!"

Laid out against the mattress, your eyes drift from Sunwoo and instead settle onto the plain vastness of the high ceiling above. There is a kind of tranquility that has found its way nestled into your bones when the topic comes up now, and you wonder how much of that is your acceptance of there being no good or easy way out of this swamp.

Those final two words ring through your ears repeatedly long after they leave his lips: Oh well. What's done is done, and as far as Sunwoo is concerned there is little point in wallowing on the matter.

"Will you quit if I do?" you ask.

There is no thought behind the question when you pose it to him, a passing thought with no particular start or end point in mind. You don't look at him once it leaves your lips, waiting once again in silence for an answer that you feel confident in already knowing. 

And making oneself smaller for love is hardly any kind of love, at all.

After a few beats of no response, you hear Sunwoo pull in a breath. "No, I won't," he says. "And neither will you. You're not a quitter, you've made it this far. If they want to make the worst choice they could make and cut your contract for this then that's on them, but don't give them the easy way out. Make them do it."

"And if they do?"

"They won't." Rolling onto his side, Sunwoo slings an arm over your chest and uses the leverage it gives him to shorten the distance between the two of you. He says, "MVNE are too successful and you're already a year in. I mean, sure, groups have had member losses early—I should know—but they'd be foolish and taking a huge risk chopping the line-up like this right now. They'd have to lie about the reason and then cut you a fat check for you to keep your mouth shut about it, and the last thing any company wants to do is pay out an idol. Don't worry about it, you're going to be fine."

Turning to look at him again, your eyes meet his and he looks up at you with the sort of joyful, boyish exuberance that he always carries. The kind that betrays the severity of any given situation, the kind that you have learned to very much appreciate.

It all sort of melts away.

"Woori said she and the girls are going to figure out a plan, just in case," you say through a heavy sigh. "So, when I go back, I suppose I'll move forward with them on my side."

"You were never even half as alone as you thought you were," Sunwoo says. A hand of his finds yours, interlocking your fingers as yet another reminder of the fact. "You're going to get through this, and who knows, maybe your mysterious illness will clear up in time for your comeback showcase, too."

Narrowing your eyes, you say, "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Damn right I would! I've seen the outfits sitting in the fitting rooms, sheesh."

Playfully nudging an elbow into him does little to deter his advances, and you suppose that's just another thing about Sunwoo that you like, too.

Overhead, the bright lighting from the enormous bathroom mirror illuminates your surroundings. As you stare at yourself in the reflection, you cannot help but think of how similar it is to the many times you have been seated for poking and primping from any number of stylists. Always in preparation. Not unlike now.

Sunwoo's alarm begins to sound off just beyond the open door.

This too feels familiar. The same adrenaline that courses through your veins as you stand backstage, waiting for the staff to give the final signal for you and your members to go on stage, begins to flow through you. It is muted, there is no stage and no performance to give, but the feelings of anticipation and hopefulness drive you all the same. In the other room, you can hear Sunwoo roll himself out from between the sheets with a semi-confused groan—likely due to your not being there beside him—but seems to pass quickly in favor of the ticking clock.

Gathering your courage, you do your best to settle your nerves. The bathroom is spacious but it only requires a handful of steps to lead back into the darkness of the room. He hasn't bothered with a light and you don't particularly blame him; it's too early in the morning, and he hadn't brought a whole lot with him to begin with.

"Sunwoo," you say, still shrouded in what is mostly darkness from his own perspective. From where Sunwoo stands, there is light emptying in from a place behind you, but it offers him little as far as deciphering your features is concerned.

Seated and slumped at the edge of the bed with wild hair and a shirt that has only begun being pulled onto his limbs, Sunwoo turns slightly to at least acknowledge that you've spoken to him, though his back faces you. "Yeah? You're up already…" His voice is heavy and groggy, still laden with the sleep that has only just left him. "Why're you up?"

You've been busy while he has slept.

Reaching up, your hand finds the lightswitch and flickers it on. Sunwoo winces at the intrusion to his senses, and you take his temporary blindness as an opportunity to fully enter the room and make your way to the destination in mind. It isn't the bed, as you figure he might think. Instead, you stand perched up by the bedroom door.

Next to your already packed belongings.

It takes a few moments for Sunwoo to collect himself and finish pulling on his shirt, but once he does, his head finally turns to locate where you've ended up and his face deadpans with a shocking quickness. His eyes remain glued to the small amount of things you have stationed there; a large backpack, a handbag for a laptop and some other, minor items, and then, they carefully make their way back up to you.

Neither of you speak for a while, and the bizarreness of the silence has you nearly second guessing your decision as a whole. Sunwoo looks at you with a sort of dumbfounded expression, his lips parting ever so slightly as if he wants to speak but doesn't yet have the words to accurately portray his thoughts. You wait longer, lingering in this no matter how uncomfortable it may be, because more than anything you need to hear whatever it is that his most genuine reaction is intended to be.

Then finally, he says it: "You don't have to come with me if you're not ready yet."

Your body has become so accustomed to expecting the worst case scenario that enough tension has built to withstand any kind of impact. It takes far too long for his words to sink in, for his earnestness to wash over you and begin to break down the wall that you have started to construct, but once it does, the breath that leaves you is one that carries all of the worries you've been holding in along with it.

"People might see us together," Sunwoo adds, as if to ensure that you're fully aware of any risks that may come with traversing this immediate future together with him.

"I don't care if you don't," you say with a lazy, somewhat noncommittal shrug, "but I'll stay behind if it's what's best for you."

Sunwoo huffs and quickly brings himself to his feet. The movement is all dangling, tired limbs and his head lazily lolling back and to the side—maybe even an eye roll—too exhausted to engage in the typical, playful lambasting of you, but no intention of allowing this to go unaddressed, either.

He crosses the room, stills in front of you, and just stares. The fatigue is deeply laden all across his face, and the stylists are going to have their work cut out for them once he makes it into that chair. Suppose you're no better off once you step across that threshold, though what waits for you back in that city is far less welcoming than a smudge of eyeliner and a hint of shimmer eyeshadow.

It doesn't really matter right now, though.

Inching towards you, Sunwoo presses a light, chaste kiss against your lips, nudges you with an elbow and then says, "It's a long drive, we should go."

Slinging your bags over your shoulder, you follow Sunwoo. Your heart and trust fully his, but the dread still held inside remains yours, and yours alone.

[freedelusionshere]

Hi!! Love your posts. I would love to hear about your S4 predictions!!

They change on a daily/weekly basis, but I'll try!

Semi-rational predictions:

Syd doesn't leave The Bear and Carmy apologizes and changes his behavior, treating her like a real partner. The reason they're in the situation they are is that Carmy is trying to lead in areas he's not good at. All the elements for success are there, Carmy has self-sabotaged, and no one has really stood up to him and Syd will.

We learn about Syd's past and why she's so reluctant to cross personal/professional lines and why she feels like she's had to be so independent and why she did Sheridan Road by herself. Remember, Emmanuel loves her but hasn't really supported her dream as a viable career, and suggests she work at the airport like her cousin, meaning, their extended family likely feels the same way.

I'm guessing Syd grew up with her mother in the kitchen or a culinary influencer, a social activist in the community, and those are some of her fondest memories she has as a child before she passed which Syd has taken on as part of her legacy.

Cicero tries to burn down The Bear (the stuff he was sneaking in in S3) to give the kids the insurance money since he's going to bail on them and wants to save face, and it fails. It also puts him out of the picture of influencing them going forward, and they have to find another investor.

Donna tries to tell Syd at Tiff's wedding to run far away from The Beef like she did (aka Carmy is not really your family, he bailed on me, his own flesh and blood), and it backfires on Donna, because Carmy is willing to change for Syd and not her. Donna and Carmy hash it out and Carmy confronts his mom and tells her Syd is off-limits and he will choose The Bear over family-family any day, so don't test him, and that this is what he wants and for her to stop trying to meddle and treat him like an adult.

Syd and Carmy finally collaborate on a menu/dish, and it's amazing and gets rave reviews, and is a perfect reflection of them together. (I don't really care if they ever get a star, TBH, because Syd is Carmy's star.)

Marcus and Luca get together and Marcus moves to Copenhagen or Luca moves to Chicago (his sister is here) and they open a bakery together that wins awards.

Shipper lens predictions:

We find out Carmy signed Syd's apartment lease. We know her dad didn't and it's why he compares the apartment to the partnership agreement and makes digs, because he knows it's Carmy, and he already suspects Syd likes Carmy as more than a business partner and knows that Carmy will go very far to back Syd's ambitions. Which is part of why Syd is so into Carmy, because no one has done that for her before. Carmy also meets Emmanuel in S4 who goes hard on him at first for being unable to provide financially for his daughter and then comes around when he realizes how devoted Carmy is to her. Carmy also might have some money socked away for a moment such as this, despite being bad at math; Cousin Michelle connections, etc.

Carmy tries to apologize to Claire, but Claire thinks Syd is who he was talking to when he was trapped inside the walk-in, and that he never really was himself with her (which is true, because she made him uneasy) and Syd is his work-wife and for him to go fuck himself. She will try to embarrass him at the wedding as payback since she was already doing that almost the minute she left Friends & Family (which Ted repeats) and lied to Tiff about him. Neil confesses his love to Claire and apologizes for meddling.

Donna brings Lee to Tiff's wedding which causes Donna and Carmy hash it out and he finds out Lee is his birth father. This leads to a long conversation about how Donna isn't a person he can trust emotionally and explains why they all babied him, because they had a secret and felt guilty but didn't want him to know. The mystery of the missing/dead Berzatto dad is revealed.

Carmy and Syd have sex on top of a table at some point, maybe in the restaurant after hours. After a reveal about her eating the blood orange hamachi heart-on-a-plate dish, and that Carmy remembered her from the James Beard Award he won for Rising Star which she attended while she was at CIA, or she saw him at The Beef when she was a kid. The basic idea is some magic realism here, that they've run into each other before she showed up at The Beef, and they have always somehow or another been connected and in each other's lives and always will be.

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

THE PATH WE CHOOSE

There’s a group of girls who only audit his class because of him–you’re one of them. But with you, there’s a pull, one he wants to resist so he can make you a proper student of his.

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader || tags: post-prison!Spencer, fem!reader, age gap, professor-student relationship || wc: 3.2k

It’s quite a big disappointment to find out you are only attending his classes as a guest to see him, not because you’re that interested in the topic. But he can’t be mad at you, he’s far too gone in a fantasy world to care about the why; all that matters is that you’re there, looking at him with those beautiful wide, shining eyes, occasionally biting on those rosy lips of yours.

What he would give to have a taste of them.

But then he manages to swim back to the surface from the depths of his thoughts, returning his focus on the class. The class that’s full of young women who are sitting in the front row with that dreamy look on their faces, admittedly auditing probably just to see him. Is his subject really so boring? To him, it’s everything but, yet the number of actual students is concerning. It’s easy to wonder what’s the point of this.

Surprisingly, he grew to enjoy teaching, which always makes him smile, because over ten years ago he would have freaked out in front of a crowd like this. But spending time with his second family taught him a lot, it evolved his social skills, so now he was truly in his element here. Not as much as he was in the BAU, but enough to think about this as a permanent thing after leaving the team.

Because sooner or later it will happen, he can’t do that job forever. It’s too demanding, it’s too dangerous, and maybe one day he will wish for a simple life that doesn’t involve serial killers. Yes, if he keeps teaching, he will talk about them, but at least he wouldn’t be actively hunting them. That’s better. Safer. And maybe he can finally think about having a proper relationship, about marrying someone one day, or even about having a child, maybe…

It would be with you.

Damn it, no, stop, he tells his brain as he leans back in the chair in the bullpen, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. He’s been having these same thoughts since he last saw you in class a week ago, repeating in his mind over and over and over again like a broken record, plaguing every moment of his days and nights. He can’t remember ever being so obsessed with another human being, which sometimes truly scares him.

There will be a day when you won’t show up. There will be a class that will be the very last time he sees you, and the thought scares him. But if he could convince you to attend his class officially, not just auditing it, then he would have more time to spend with you. And more time can give him the chance to show you just how good he could be to you.

Oh, come on, stop already, he practically yells at himself on the inside.

“Is everything okay?” Penelope’s cheerful voice is acting like a beacon that shows him the way back to reality, and when he looks over at her, refusing–or rather not really knowing how–to answer, she playfully boops his nose with the top of her pen. “Alright, genius, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m just… It’s a student I can’t stop thinking about.” With a dramatic hum, she sits on the edge of his desk and twirls the pen in her hand as she waits for him to continue. “I’m not an idiot, I know perfectly well there is a group of girls who are only auditing my class because they think I’m “cute” as one proper student pointed out a few weeks ago,” he begins to explain.

Before he can move on, Penelope’s eyes widen as she gasps. “She’s one of them, isn’t she? Because she must be one of those girls, otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned it,” she points out.

He closes his eyes as he leans back, then lets out an annoyed groan. It’s not directed at his friend, more like at the situation in general. Why can’t he simply forget you exist? It would make things so much easier, but no, his memory is forcing him to remember everything about you.

In the end, he looks back at his friend, but before he could say anything, she lets out a laugh. “Oh, wait, you actually like this girl, don’t you?” Penelope asks, leaning down so she can keep her voice down. “Oh, my God, this is so adorable. What’s her name? I want to know everything about her, and you know how good I am at this.”

That’s true; she’s the master of snooping around, finding out everything about people from behind the computer screen, and if she wants to help, who is he to stop her? Maybe she will find a dark secret that can finally make him forget about you, although deep down he highly doubts it could work.

Less than half an hour later he leans back in the swivel chair in Penelope’s office, staring at the ceiling as he tries to process what she has found out about you. There was no dark secret, not even a simple red flag, you’re just as perfect as you look. You have excellent grades, you’ve been playing lacrosse since high school, and you’re working at a vet clinic after school.

“She’s smart, kind, and pretty. So, if she’s not a student of yours, maybe you could ask her out,” Penelope suggests, earning a surprised look from him. “I know, I know, she’s a little younger than you–”

“A little?” Spencer asks with a doubtful edge to his voice.

“Listen, I’m saying this as your friend. There’s a girl who obviously likes you, one who’s probably intelligent enough to keep up with your beautiful brain, you should give this a chance. Just one date, that’s all.”

He exhales slowly as he thinks, trying hard to decide what to do. “Maybe you’re right,” he begins, and Penelope squeals from happiness, which he shuts down with a raised hand, ���but she also seems interested in the class. She answers if I ask them a question, she’s taking notes, so if I can convince her to take the class properly, she might choose this career in the end.”

His friend only rolls her eyes. “Right. You really want her to choose her career over you?” she wonders.

Spencer nods. “She’s talented, it would be a shame if she wasted it just to be with me.”

“You’re my best friend, you know that, but right now you’re an idiot. Do what you want, don’t get me wrong, but in the end you’ll regret choosing this path with her,” she tells him with a shrug.

With a sigh, he looks up at the ceiling. Maybe there is no right choice, maybe it doesn’t matter what he does, the result will be the same. If he asked you out, then what? You can still say no and break his heart with that. “I’m screwed,” he mutters as he closes his eyes.

Don’t get too hooked on his stupidly handsome features and beautiful brain. 

As you’re sitting in your car in the parking lot, your forehead resting against the steering wheel, you keep repeating this sentence like a mantra. Maybe if you say it enough times, you will be able to resist his charm. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is the bane of your existence, the reason why you can’t sleep at night, why you’re losing your grip on reality. These days you’ve been daydreaming more and more often, imagining a life where he genuinely cares about you, where you’re his girlfriend. 

It’s ridiculous, you know it, and you should get him out of your mind, especially because he’s your professor. He’s off-limits. But how? You don’t know what could be the best solution, the medicine to your suffering. 

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by a sudden knock on the window. “Fuck,” you mutter with a groan.

Jonah is watching you with a huge smile on his face, even waving at you before signaling to get out of the vehicle. You inhale and exhale to push your previous thoughts aside, then open the door to do as he wishes. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks while you lock the car.

You nod, then begin to follow him towards the entrance of the building, feeling as your heart rate keeps crawling higher and higher. You don’t want to go to class, not today, not when you’re ovulating and have all those nasty thoughts about the guy who’s gonna talk in the next hour and half. 

“You know what I still can’t wrap my head around? Why are you attending Dr. Reid’s class?” he brings up the topic you would rather avoid. 

Since your answer isn’t the one he would probably like to hear, you just shrug. “I don’t know, maybe I just wanna know if I should take it next semester,” you lie.

But is it really a lie? 

He lets out a thoughtful hum while you both occupy your usual places in the second row. It’s close, but not too close. Just perfect. You take out your laptop from its case, but before you could open it, you freeze, because you can hear the chatter around you die, and you feel a pair of eyes on you–and it’s not your friend’s.

No, these are the beloved professor’s hazel eyes, and when you raise your gaze to meet his own, the murmurs around you fade away, making it feel like it’s just the two of you there. But it doesn’t last long, he quickly looks down at his watch, then claps his hands once to get the class’s attention. 

Half an hour later a chat message pops up on your laptop, and you glance at your friend when you see he’s the one who chose this silent way of communication. 

Jonah: Are you sure you’re not just trying to please Reid to get his attention by being active during class despite not going for the grades?  Jonah: No shaming, he’s good-looking in a nerdy way, I get it if you’re head over heels for the guy. You: I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s an interesting topic, I can’t help myself. Also, he’s not my type.

A big fat lie. Bravo.

Jonah: Sure. 

Blowing out the air you’ve been subconsciously holding, you shake your head and return your attention to the lecture. It’s another anecdote, the story of a dangerous serial killer, a cannibal, no less. 

Jonah: Have you noticed that he keeps looking at you? Or am I just seeing this because we’re talking about him?

You shoot him an angry look, then simply close the messaging app. But he doesn’t give up, your phone starts buzzing, the screen lighting up to show you the previews of his messages.

During today’s class, Spencer often has a brief second when he forgets what he was talking about. It doesn’t last long, his students probably don’t even notice the brief break in his speech, but to him, this equals a disaster. He’s not like this, he doesn’t just trail off for no reason.

Well, okay, not for no reason. All he can think about whenever his eyes fall on you are Penelope’s words.

Is convincing you to take his class properly the right choice? She was right, he feels something, a pull that can’t be ignored that easily, and if a day when you’re not simply auditing his class comes, he would lose his chance to ask you out on a date. You would be his student, so he would have to face the consequences if he dared to make a move on you. 

But then he asks a question, and you’re one of the three students who bother to raise their hands. He doesn’t miss the way the young man on your right snickers at the sight of you being so involved, but he can also see you shoot a warning look at him. It’s hard not to wonder what this is all about, what previous conversation triggered this silent exchange–because there had to be a reason. 

In the next few milliseconds, he has to make a choice. Should he ask you? He wants to see if you got the answer right, but at the very same time he has his doubts about talking to you. 

He has never done that, and he has no idea what it would lead to. Would he simply fall deeper into this rabbit hole of emotions? Would his voice give away that he’s uncertain about everything when it comes to you?

In the end, he gathers the strength to say your name.

And you got it right. Oh, that beautiful brain of yours. 

Years of training led to an annoying habit, though. He instinctively profiles people in situations, just like he’s profiling you now while moving on with today’s lecture. He could hear that slight tremble in your voice which gave away that you were nervous–was it because you weren’t sure about the answer, or because you had to talk to him? 

For the rest of the class, he tries to focus on what he has to say, doing his best not to look at you, but it’s hard. The temptation is there, and after a while he finds himself scanning the crowd of students only for his gaze to linger a second too long where you’re sitting. When your eyes meet, you bite on your lower lip and look down at your laptop. 

He eventually dismisses the class, but then he opens his mouth and your name spills out without a warning. You look surprised, and for a moment he wonders if he made the right call. What should he bring up? His plan to convince you to take his class properly, or to ask you out on a date? 

Maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea. 

Every fiber in your body wants to run as far from him as possible. He’s a profiler–a really good one–he definitely notices simple things like someone having a crush on them. You’re not even sure if you can keep up a conversation with him for longer than a minute before your thoughts trail off, moving on to his sharp jawline you love so much. 

You’re only a visitor here, if he finds you have a crush on him, he might ask you not to come back. But how could you stay away when seeing him is like a drug, giving you the kind of sweet high that can recharge your batteries faster than anything? 

Your legs are shaking as you move closer to him, but you focus on your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. And again. And again. It can’t be that bad, it’s just a brief conversation. Yes, that’s what you have to focus on. Inhale. Exhale. And repeat. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks you when you get close enough. 

Nodding, you gulp and pull on the strap of your laptop bag over your shoulder. “Is something wrong, Professor Reid?” 

He hesitates for a moment, or so you think it’s hesitation, and then he licks his lips, a move that sparks your imagination. No, no, you shouldn’t think about what you want that tongue to lick, or what he must taste like. Stop, enough, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath as you wait, your heart beating so fast it might jump out of your ribcage.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” he begins as he folds his arms over his chest. “You’re taking notes, you’re interacting in class, you remember things, yet you’re only auditing this class. Why don’t you take it properly? You’re good, you would get good grades, or,” he says, but trails off.

What is it that he wanted to say? “Or?” you say, the words coming out before you could stop yourself.

Dr. Reid lets out a sigh as he rests his hips against the edge of his desk. “You have talent, you would be a good profiler,” he admits. 

That’s flattering, really, but not what you want to hear. 

“Look, why don’t you take my class next semester? Until then, you could join us for a summer internship at the FBI,” he suggests casually.

Your eyes widen from surprise, because that you haven’t expected. Wow, an internship? And what was that us? Did he mean the FBI in general, or his team, the BAU? If it was the latter, that would be the coolest thing ever. Except… 

Except you would spend more time by his side. Pure torture. 

You take a deep breath, then somehow manage to force yourself to look at him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” At first, he gives you a surprised look, but then a barely visible smile appears on his lips as he nods. “Where do I apply for that internship?”

“I’ll help you from the inside and get everything ready. Hopefully you’ll only have to take care of the paperwork,” he explains. 

There’s something about his voice, the way it becomes just a tad bit higher, his speech speeding up more and more with each word he says, and there’s a slight tremble from either nervousness or excitement. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounds exactly like a guy who’s talking to his crush for the first time to ask her out. But could that be the case? It seems highly unlikely, it must be your imagination.

The offer is nice, though. You’re only doing this because it would be nice to work there.

Great. Now you’re lying to yourself too.

Back in his office, Spencer picks up his phone from the desk and looks for Penelope’s contact. It’s her fault, the least she can do is listen to his ramblings about what he’s just done. It rings once, twice, at the third ring he begins to wonder why she’s not picking up, but then he hears her cheerful voice and lets out the air he’s been holding. 

“Remember that girl from my class? I think I just promised to get her an internship at the BAU,” he says quickly. 

There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, but then she goes, “Oh, Spencer, when I told you to ask her out, I mean dinner, or a movie, not a summer internship she can spend by your side.”

He lets his forehead hit the desk with a loud thud. “I’m an idiot.”

“When it comes to her? Yes, you are,” Penelope agrees, then lets out a sigh. “Okay, why don’t you come over tonight? We could order something to eat and watch a movie. And we can talk about her if you feel like it.”

“Sure,” he agrees, even though he just wants to crawl into a hole and die right now.