#tied for second with four appearances each:

[cobbbvanth]

reblog and tell me which song has appeared the most times across your spotify wrapped years <3

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, mention of physical assault (physical fight), head injuries, mention of bruises and scars, mention of Eddie's almost death. pining. allusions to unrequited love. enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort. lots and lots of tension. slow burn. also, instead of writing summaries, I will name each chapter after a song that fits the vibe of each chapter. Also, mentioning this again, her nickname has nothing to do with her hair color.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult you know I will mention you in every chapter, so don't even try to fight me. Thanks for coming up with all these ideas with me mwah! — This is only the beginning, guys. This story will progress into something much more intense after chapter four or five, I can’t wait to share this one with you and get into the good and spicy stuff hehe!

Read the prologue first!

series masterlist ⭐︎ next chapter

♡

Your body was aching and everything inside of you was screaming at you to not open your eyes just yet, you felt as though you were being dragged out of it. All your limbs were hurting, your skin aching, your head was pounding. You could not begin to describe the pain even if you tried, it was unlike anything you had felt before. Your memory was lost, at least that’s what it felt like for the first few seconds. 

Then they started coming back slowly. 

From the gate in the water, to Steve being pulled under.

From the bats trying to bite chunks of his skin to you doing everything in your power to save him. 

From the creepy old Creel house, to Max offering herself as the bait. 

As pictures of her flashed in your mind, you suddenly started to register the smell – the disinfectant, the disgusting smell of hospital. You heard the beeping of the machines next to you, and you felt the wires attached to your body. 

You tried to press your lips together, though tears burned in your eyes when the crack in your lip stung. 

You moved your hand as you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights shining into the room you were in. You squinted them, trying to adjust to the light and the vision in front of you, it took you a moment, everything was still so blurry. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see a mop of dark curls. You slowly moved your head to the left side, restraining a groan when you felt a flash of pain in your head. You blinked a few times, taking in the sight of a bruised and battered Eddie, who was looking down at his rings, twisting and playing with them nervously. 

“Eddie?” You said and only then you felt how dry your throat had felt, how raspy your voice had sounded and how much it was aching. 

You did not notice the movement on your right side.

He straightened up as he lifted his head so suddenly, eyes wide as he looked into yours. Relief flashed his face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh thank god.. Hi sweetheart.. slept well?” 

You stared at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what had happened to him. By the developing scars on his face and the white bandage around his neck, you had an idea of what had gotten to him. 

Was he on the brink of death just like you had been? 

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was. 

“Huh… I’m not dead?” 

He shook his head, eyes filled with relief, “gladly no.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “well, shucks,” you sighed, like you didn’t fight for your life back at the Creel house. 

Eddie sighed but chuckled, understanding your dark humor better than anyone else – despite only knowing you for a few days. 

A cough finally fell from your lips when you tried to sit up, though losing the strength to, you fell back again.

Eddie instantly reached for the water bottle on the table next to you, pouring some into the plastic cup before he carefully placed it into your hand, trying not to touch the bruises on your knuckles. 

You thanked him with a small smile before you lifted the cup to your lips with shaky hands. 

“Careful,” Eddie whispered as he watched you.

You nodded and closed your eyes as you took a sip of the water, welcoming the feeling of the coldness in your dry throat, you took a few sips before you handed him back the cup. 

“How long was I out?”

The sigh from your right side startled you a little, with furrowed brows, you turned to look only to be caught off guard. 

Steve Harrington.

With his arms crossed, he stood by the window, staring at you with an unreadable look on his face. He took you in, eyes glaring at the wounds on your skin. 

“You had to have surgery. There–... There was a deep concussion in your head and a vessel popped. If they didn’t do it quickly you..” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence, he clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him. 

Even in this current state, you could not help but smirk cheekily, though it dropped the moment it appeared when you suddenly could feel all the bruises on your face. Your eyes watered and a wince fell from your lips. 

Steve lifted his head at the sound. 

And Eddie straightened up. 

“Don’t move your face too much, sweets.. It’s…” He stopped as he felt anger and sadness hit him all at once. 

He did not want to tell you how bad it really was – how your skin was bruised, how puffy your eyes were. 

You closed your eyes again and laid your head back. 

“Ah, he got me good, didn’t he?” 

Steve swallowed harshly. 

He pushed away the pain from seeing you like this and cleared his throat. He licked his lips and leaned closer. 

“Yeah, but you got him better.” 

You frowned at his words, not quite understanding. 

Eddie glared at him, not knowing how you would take the news so soon. 

“Huh?”

Steve ignored the look in Eddie’s eyes, he kept his on you. 

“Jason’s dead. He fell onto broken wood… that impaled him.”

Oh. 

Flashes of the night came in a blur. 

The fight. 

His rough hands as he hit you, over and over again, as he held you down and wrapped his merciless fingers around your throat, aiming for the kill. 

You felt your heart beating a little faster at the memory, how scared you were when he pointed a gun at Lucas before you stepped in between them, knowing that he could have shot you, right then and there. How much it hurt when he sliced your cheek open with the stupid ring on his finger as he delivered the first punch, how close to death you were when he choked you. You saw the look in his eyes, the rage, as he called you a traitor for protecting ‘the killer’ of your friend. Tears of frustration and anger fell from your eyes when you almost lost the fight – Lucas’s screams as he called out to Max urged you to fight back, and you did, you used every last bit of your strength to throw him off of you and pushed him away. 

Pushed him into his death. 

You do not feel bad. – Max could have died because of him. He would have killed Lucas. He wanted to kill you. 

“Good,” you murmured as you blinked the tears away that formed in your eyes again, “he was going to kill the kids.. He had a gun.. He had a gun, Steve.”

It was almost weird to hear you call him by his name. 

He instantly rushed to your side and reached for your hand, something that neither of you would ever think back to again. 

“Yeah, and you saved them. Listen, you can’t talk much, you need to heal, Blondie.”

Right. The ache in your neck was not from the lack of water, it was from the bruises, from almost being strangled to death.

“Everything else is being taken care of,” he said as he squeezed your hand. 

You ignored the feeling in your chest and turned to look at Eddie. 

“And you?” 

“Well, you are looking at a free man! A free man that was targeted by Victor Creel himself after he got out of Pennhurst. I trespassed into his home many times and he had a vendetta against me or some shit.”

You felt relief rushing through you. 

Though, you saw the hurt behind his eyes, knowing he had to lie about seeing Creel killing Chrissy. 

He did not want to put the blame on somebody else, he knew what it had felt like to be accused of something he hadn’t done – but there was no other option, he had no choice, he wasn’t given one. People of power had told him what to do. In return, he got his name cleared and had been given a good amount of money for ‘the troubles’. Money that he could live off from for the rest of his life.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Eddie.” 

He smiled at your words, nodding. 

“What happened to you?” 

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve. 

“He played hero when he shouldn’t have.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. 

Hero. There wasn’t only one hero that night. 

Almost in panic, you straightened up. 

“Where’s Max?” 

Steve put his hand on yours again, giving it a pat as he tried to calm you down, though all he gave you was shivers running down your spine from his touch. 

“Healing. He broke one arm and one leg, but she is awake. Robin is with her, she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the weight in your shoulders fell just like that. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t do it here, in front of them. 

“And everyone else?”

You took in the sight of him, properly this time. 

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, tiredness in his face.

You didn’t know what prompted you to do this, maybe it was the high anesthetic in your system or a spur of the moment – but you lifted your hand, reached out to him to graze your fingertips against his neck, on the mark where the tail of a demobat almost strangled him. 

He did not pull away, but he stared at you with wide eyes, blushing at your action.  

“I-I’m fine.. Everyone else is too,” he said and cleared his throat. 

A scoff on your left pulled you back and you removed your hand from Steve’s neck to look over at Eddie. 

“Speak for yourself, I have like forty stitches all over my body.”

How he managed to joke about that while he was still in so much pain? You did not know. But then again, you were just the same. 

He spared you the details when he began to talk about what happened in the upside down. Steve did not want to revive the story again, seemingly not handling the thought of his new friend dying so cruelly. He left and told you that he’d come back later. 

As Eddie was telling you about the swarm of bats, you felt the pain in your chest, just like when you had found out about Chrissy, just like when you had found out about him. 

Eddie was a new addition to your life, you two are barely even friends, though you do not know how you would handle the news of him not making it. 

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, though a smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Going soft on me now, sweets?” He chuckled, surprised to hear such words from you. “Or are you still on drugs? Where’s the little ol’ meanie, I kinda liked her.” 

A pained chuckle fell from your lips. 

“She’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry.”

Your laughter died down when you thought of the way he looked at you. 

Judging by all the pain you were still feeling, you knew that you looked awful. 

“How bad do I look? Be honest, please.”

Eddie shook his head with a pained look on his face. He looked down for a moment. His eyes flashed with anger and sadness. 

“Bad, sweetheart. When we found out that Jason did this to you.. We wanted to revive him only to kill him again,” he said angrily. “Steve wanted to rip his corpse apart, that’s what Robin told me.”

For a moment, you felt cheerful and your eyes had softened. 

For a moment you had thought that he cared. 

But Eddie quickly pulled you back into reality after shattering that illusion. 

“He saw what he did to Lucas, it’s not as bad as you but.. fuck. He was going to kill Max too.”

Steve was angry at Jason because of the teens, not because of what he did to you, never because of you. He wouldn’t have cared if you bleed out on the ground in the Creel house. He wouldn’t have cared if you died. 

You focused on Eddie, on the anger in his features – it made your eyes soften, knowing that you found another friend, one that you should probably protect from the curse that you are. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can walk now..”

You frown, tilting your head at him before you look down at yourself. 

“How long have I been out?” You asked when you realized that Steve had never answered your question. 

“You’ve been out for a whole week, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, you dug your hands into the mattress and pushed yourself up. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raised his hands as he tried to stop you from sitting up. 

“W-What, oh my god, my sister must be worried!” 

He put his hand on your arm, gently – you had noticed it before, how careful he had been to touch you, like he was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile. 

“Yeah, about that–” He never got to finish his sentence as the door burst open and your sister stormed inside the room. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of her, not because you were surprised or confused to see her here, but because it’s been two months since you had last seen her. Besides the concerned look on her face, she was glowing – maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was just the fact that she has been much happier since leaving Hawkins behind. 

“Hi hi, honey! Are you okay?” 

That day she had the same concern in her voice as she does now while she talks your ear off about how important it is to go to all your checkups at the Hospital. She is calling every day, just to remind you – and to check on you. 

You are fine. Just fine. 

You survived an attack, you survived surgery, you survived. You made a good recovery and you are getting better each day. Besides, Eddie and Max are on your back about the check-ups just as much, you have no choice but to go to them. 

You’re holding the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you finish touching up your make up, applying some gloss to your lips before you pick up the brush one more time and carefully go through your hair, trying not to hurt yourself, your head starts hurting at every slightest touch and it’s beginning to frustrate you. 

“I’m telling you, this baby is going to be a little runner.” 

“Is she still kicking?” 

Your sister huffs before she laughs, “she is kicking all the time, sis.”

You smile as you take the telephone and walk towards your window, leaning against the wall as you wait for the Impala to pull up in your driveway. 

“I can’t wait to meet her. I never held a baby before.”

“Well, you’re about to – give it a few more weeks and you’ll turn into an auntie in no time.”

“I am already an auntie,” you chuckle. “How could you forget little Luna? She was your first child.” 

You remember how devastated you were when she took the black cat with her as she moved out of your parents house and left the town, for good. You begged her to leave the cat with you, put on your best puppy face but she wouldn’t have it, it was her cat, after all. 

“Right, sorry sorry.” She laughs. 

You hear rustling in the back and a moment later, a loud crunch sounds through the phone. You don’t have to ask to know what she’s eating. Chips. She is always eating salted chips, now even more so than before. 

“What are you doing today?” She asks with a mouthful. 

Looking down at your outfit, you place your palm on your new denim shorts before you slide your fingers into the pocket. 

“I’m going to a barbecue in a few,” you say. “Max basically forced me to come.”

“Wait, you’re not driving yourself, are you?”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as a huff falls from your lips. 

You’re not allowed to drive, not yet. Your vision gets blurry sometimes, and you get light headed very easily. Your doctor said that it would pass, but it’s been two weeks since you had been released from the hospital and it hasn’t passed yet. 

Jason truly did a number on you. 

“No, don’t worry. My friends would kill me if I even tried–”

“Don’t say that word,” she cuts you off with a stern voice. “But I agree with them.”

You snort. 

“Anyways, Eddie is picking me up.”

Silence follows for a good thirty seconds before she continues eating her chips. You can practically hear her thoughts, you already know what she’s about to say next. 

“Eddie. He was the cute one with the long hair, right?” She asks, innocently. “The one who brought you chocolate and magazines?” 

Rolling your eyes at her teasing voice, you push yourself away from the wall when you see the black Impala pulling up to your house. 

“Don’t even,” you sigh, scrunching up your face in annoyance. 

She has been waiting, waiting for years for you to finally have a crush on someone, to fall in love, go on dates and get a boyfriend. 

Though, unlike her, you weren’t exactly popular – maybe it was your own fault, but that’s beside the point. Your sister loved having crushes and going on dates. She loved falling in love. 

You? Not so much. 

Love has only brought you pain. 

And you never cared much for dating – not even for fun. You don’t mind being on your own, loving someone from afar and in secret, for probably the rest of your life. 

“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he super sweet?” She asks. “He brought you chocolate, sat by your side and you seem to like him–”

“Yeah, as a friend.” 

“Oh,” she sighs, humming. “Yeah, you never liked the nice guys, did you?” 

She got you there. Well, kind of. He is nice. He is nice to everyone, but to you. 

“What about the other guy then? What was his name again… Steve?” 

Just the mention of his name has shivers running down your spine, your heart fluttering and your skin crawling in tingles. 

You feel your cheeks glowing but you roll your eyes at the stupid giddiness that you feel, everytime you think of him.

“Mhmm, Steve.” 

“Huh.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “What about him?”

If she only knew. 

Eddie honks the car horn, giving you the perfect excuse to hang up the phone. You walk back to your dresser, putting the phone down. 

“Anyways, I love you, sis. But a very hungry Eddie is waiting for me in the driveway.”

You know that he is hungry, he is always hungry, always eating away all the snacks and stealing leftover fries from everyone’s plates, no matter how much he had eaten already.

“Have fun with uh Steve! Love you, mwah, bye!”

You roll your eyes once again as you hang up the phone. 

Steve and Fun in one sentence just doesn’t sound right. That guy would rather stay miserable for the rest of his life than even try to have fun with you. 

He can’t stand you. 

And well, you can’t stand him either. – At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself, all while knowing that it’s very much a lie, but how else would you stay sane?

You quickly make your way down the stairs, reaching for your keys and your sunglasses on the way out. You skip down the porch steps. You tap the hood of his car before you get into the passenger seat. 

Eddie is already grinning at you, waving his fingers at you. 

“Hey sexy.” 

His brows shoot up and a smirk tugs at his lips. He playfully eyes you up and down. 

You close the door and sit back, greeting him with a mocking smirk. 

“Hello to you too, sweets,” he says in a low and deep voice – one that almost has you laughing. 

“Oh, I wasn’t greeting you,” you say, nonchalantly. “I was talking to Arwen,” you gesture to his beloved, new car, that he of course named after a Lord of the rings character. 

“But, hi Eddie.”

A loud laugh leaves his lips, his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He grabs the gearstick, shaking his head at you. 

“You ready for some heavy metal heaven?” 

You put on your sunglasses and fasten the seatbelt after he points at you with a stern look on his face. 

“Sure,” you snort, knowing that the drive to the Sinclair house will be anything but uneventful. When Eddie isn’t singing and bobbing his head to the music, he’s shouting over it, telling you a story that he can’t wait to get off his chest. 

Your friendship with him is something you didn’t see coming. You tried to push him away, knowing how your friendships with people you care about usually end, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept coming back, just like Robin, just like the teens. 

You don’t understand why. 

What’s there about you that they want you around so bad? 

You’re never in a happy mood, you’re never entertaining, you don’t bring anything into the friend group. You don’t get along with most people – by most people you only mean Steve Harrington. 

You wonder if it’s because you almost died and they’d feel guilty to exclude you after helping them or if Max forces them to accept you into a friend group you never even wanted to be part of. 

“How’s your head doing?” Eddie asks as he drives on Maple Street. 

“Good, s’not hurting anymore.” You lie. 

He knows. 

Eddie sees the way you react to bright lights, the way you scrunch up your nose a little whenever the sun shines into your eyes or the way you rest your hand against the nearest wall when you seem to get dizzy. 

“When’s your next check-up?” 

He sounds just as concerned as your sister does, it makes you laugh a little. 

Who would have thought that Eddie could be so caring? 

“Tomorrow, 3pm.”

“Want me to drive you?”

You shake your head, “no, it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.”

He scoffs, shooting you a glare as he pulls up into the driveway, parking his car behind the burgundy BMW. 

“You think I’ll let you take the bus? I’ll drive you and then we’ll get burgers.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, chuckling as you turn to him, “okay, dad.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles at you with a glare. 

Laughing at the look on his face, you get out of the car and make your way over to the house. Eddie bumps his shoulder into yours, tilting his head down, he looks at your heart shaped sunglasses. 

“Where’d you get these?” He asks, pointing at them. 

“Macy’s, why? You want some too?” 

“What if I do?” He asks, ringing the doorbell. 

“Then we’ll get you some pink ones.” 

A smirk tugs at his lips, “hell yeah.” 

Robin opens the door with an excited smile on her face, grinning when she sees you. 

“Hi!” She beams at you. “Come on in.” She steps aside, lifting her arm as she waits for you both to step inside. 

You walk in first, and as you do, Robin pulls you into a hug, greeting you once more. 

“Hey,” you mumble as you slowly lift your arms to hug her back. 

Eddie chuckles at the confused frown on your face, he follows inside and closes the door. 

“C’mon, Steve is already bitching about you two being late.” 

And just like that, your heart jumps a little. You hate yourself a little in these moments. 

Pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you and Eddie follow her out into the garden. 

You can hear the music outside, laughter and Steve’s stern voice as he scolds Dustin, as always. The smell of smoke lingers in the air and as you step outside, you catch sight of Steve, standing behind the grill, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Dustin with the grill tong. 

His hair is messy, a spit curl falling before his eyes. He is wearing his black sunglasses, green khaki pants, a gray tank top,– oh god. This is going to be a long day. 

You swallow as you tear your eyes away from him, looking around with squinted eyes, the sun is harsh and you instantly put your sunglasses back on.

“Are the Sinclair’s around?” You ask, meaning Lucas’s and Erica’s parents. 

Robin shakes her head, “no, they’re out in Indianapolis until tomorrow, Steve is probably gonna stay the night.”

You nod. 

You hear your name being called and you turn to your right to see Lucas waving at you with a smile on his face. He is sitting on the lounger Max is laying on, still with casts on her leg and her arm. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking in your direction, a smile appears on her face and she greets you just as kindly as her boyfriend did. 

Robin leaves your side, walking towards Dustin who plays with his new, portable Stereo. 

As you pass by Steve, he turns around to greet Eddie with a smile and you with nothing more than a nod and low grumble, “Blondie.” 

Whenever he seems moody or pissed off, you feel the urge to make it even worse. And you do, every single time. 

You walk around him and look at the meat on the grill, whining.

“I don’t eat meat.”

He turns to you, eyes growing wide at your words. He didn’t know. And he already feels guilty for not asking you first. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as an apologetic look crosses his face. 

“Fuck… I-I didn’t know–” he stops when he notices the smug look on your face and hears Eddie chuckle over his shoulder. 

He should’ve known. 

With a groan, he rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back down as he turns back to the grill. 

“Hey Eddie!” Dustin calls out to him, already grinning at Steve. “Check this out!” 

“Don’t you dare, Dustin–” Robin gets cut off by a scream as it blasts from the stereo. She smacks him lightly on his head, yelling at him to turn it off. 

Eddie laughs loudly, leaving yours and Steve’s side. 

“Jesus christ,” Steve mumbles, scrunching his face up at the music. “That shrimp has been doing that all day. Eddie really is a bad influence.” 

“Aw, poor Steve,” you pout at him, “are you mad that you can’t listen to Madonna?” 

He scoffs at you, though he doesn’t say anything and focuses on the sizzling burgers as he turns them over. 

You press your lips together, ignoring the tugging in your chest or the feeling in your stomach as you use his distraction to look at him. 

It’s only nearing the end of April, but it already feels like the beginning of summer. Steve’s skin is already sun kissed. You hide your eyes behind your sunglasses as you ogle him. Taking in the sight of his veiny hands, his arms that have just the perfect amount of muscle, his chest hair that you always tease him for, the silver chain around his neck. 

You swallow. 

Cursing inwardly when you feel your stomach fluttering. 

He turns to face you again, totally catching you and your staring. 

Fuck. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks down at you. 

You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying not to blush under his gaze. 

He is feeling smug. Not because he likes you staring at him, but because he’s been waiting for a moment to embarrass you with something. 

He expects you to stutter, to step back and answer his question with a shaky and squeaky voice, because that is what he must be used to, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You take a step closer to him, biting your lip as you eye him up and down. 

You can tell that it catches him off guard a little, but unlike you, he isn’t blushing. 

“Yeah, actually,” you whisper and put your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to the small table where he left his coke. You wrap your hand around the can, it’s cold against your palm and you hum in satisfaction as you raise it up to your lips, taking a sip of his drink. “Mmmh, perfect.” 

You turn around, and walk away without another word, leaving him huffing and glaring at you. 

You fail to notice or feel his eyes on you, the way they rake down your body, the way he licks his lips before he forces his eyes away from you. 

You greet Lucas and Max properly, hugging the latter before you take a seat on the lounger next to her, choosing the one that is half in the shadow, so you can hide your face from the sun. 

You easily fall into a conversation with the teens. You had always been close with Max, even before you were dragged into all of this. 

Being friends with her, also brought Lucas into your life. Unlike Dustin, who is always somehow trying to get on your nerves by teasing you with crushes that don’t exist or annoying you like a younger brother would do, Lucas is always very kind. 

“I can’t wait for you to get your car back.” 

Chuckling at Lucas’s words, you take off your sunglasses and put them down beside you. 

“Why’s that?” 

“So you can drive us around again,” he shrugs as he flashes you a smile. 

“Are Steve and Eddie not good enough for you?” You snort. 

Max scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she turns to you. 

“Steve is always whining about something!” 

“Yeah, and Eddie drives like a maniac,” Lucas groans, throwing his hands up. 

Max purses her lips, looking down at her cast. 

“Yeah, like your girlfriend,” you laugh, glancing at Lucas. “I wonder who will teach her how to drive properly.” 

“First of all, I don’t drive like a maniac,” says Max. “Second, why don’t you teach me how to drive?” 

You raise your brows at her, shaking your head, “sorry girl, but I am not a good teacher.” 

“But you’re like a big sister to me, you’re supposed to teach me,” she teases, though she looks at you with her best puppy eyes. “Besides, we can take Billy’s car.”

Shaking your head at her, you lay your head back and close your eyes, “don’t even try, Max. We’ll both end up in a ditch, we barely made it out last time.” 

She snorts at your words while Lucas looks between the two of you with disapproval on his face. 

“I’m starting to think that neither of you should ever drive again.” 

“I actually agree with you,” Robin chimes in as she joins the three of you. “I’ve heard of Max’s driving skills and uh… you lady,” she points at you, moving your legs to the side as she takes a seat on your lounder, “are danger in person.” 

“Me?” You gasp, putting your hand on your chest. 

“Yeah, you!” 

Steve watches you from afar, ignoring the heavy metal music and the curly heads behind him, who are going crazy over a song he just can’t find a liking to. 

He watches you – the way you crack a smile and shake your head with an amused look on your face. 

He watches you talk to the teens and to his best friend, easily falling into conversations. He rarely sees you like this – smiling and carefree. You’re usually always tense, annoyed and wearing a permanent frown on your face. Mostly around him. 

Steve will never know what it’s like to have a normal conversation with you, to see you smiling at him, not in a teasing way, in a real way. He is not sure if he ever even saw a real smile on your face – not even the one you are wearing now is real. 

But, why does he even care? You two have never gotten along, you hated each other, at first glance. 

With a sigh, he turns off the grill. He carries the tray filled with food over to where everyone is sitting, motioning for Eddie and Dustin to follow. 

Steve walks past you, not paying attention to how close he is to you, he accidentally bumps you in the head with the corner of the tray. He doesn’t even notice that he did – not until, you duck your head down and raise your hand to touch the side of your head. 

Max snaps her head up at him with a glare on her face. Lucas freezes when he sees how angry she is. 

He looks down at you, to see you looking up at him already. 

“I’m sorry..” He murmurs. 

You don’t speak, instead you look up at him with big eyes and a pained look on your face. 

“Oh come on, I barely even touched you,” he says, nervously. 

Eddie and Robin glance at each other, confused and worried. 

He rolls his eyes at you, knowing that this is another one of your little games that you always play, whenever you get bored. 

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Max shoots out of her seat, almost falling over due to the cast on her leg, her cheeks grow red in anger as her eyes burn into Steve. 

“Her head! You hit her head, you stupid idiot!” She points at him with rage in her voice. 

Steve’s eyes widen as deep guilt rushes through him, he instantly drops the tray on the table before he crouches down in front of you, shakily laying his palm on your shoulder as Max continues to curse at him. 

He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t think of that. 

“S-Shit,” he mumbles, looking at you apologetically. 

How could he forget? The doctor told you how sensitive you would be at every slightest touch to your head, how every slightest bump could cause nausea, dizziness or even a migraine. He was there, he heard him say it loud and clearly, yet he forgot.

Only now does he notice the hurt in your eyes as you place your palm over your ear – your ear that is ringing, for a moment it feels as though you’ve been pulled under water, and still you hear Max yelling at Steve. 

It’s not his fault, it was an accident. 

“Max! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it on purpose! J-Just fuck…” You curse at the pain, not even recognizing your own voice for a moment. Who would’ve thought that you would be this sensitive? You feel his hand on your shoulder, maybe it eases the pain a little, or maybe it’s just the comfort that you feel from only his touch. 

“I-I’m gonna get you some ice,” Steve mumbles and rushes into the house, with Eddie following close behind. 

He throws his sunglasses on the counter and huffs in frustration as he tugs at his hair. He opens the freezer and gets an ice pack out. 

“Steve–”

“Fuck, Eddie. I didn’t know, I thought she was fucking with me again,” he stammers, wrapping the icepack into a cloth. “She always does this a-and I wasn’t thinking of the fucking injury.”

Steve is cursing at himself and at Jason who caused all of this, who did this to you. 

Eddie takes a step closer to him, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend down. 

“Steve,” he sighs but he won’t look at him. “You didn’t know, i-it’s just a migraine, nothing else–”

“Nothing else?” Steve scoffs, frowning at Eddie. 

How could this be nothing else? He caused you pain with the slightest touch, something that reminded you of what you had been through, only a few weeks back. And he might have just triggered even more than a migraine, he might have triggered some thoughts to come back that you tried to not think of. 

He rushes back out to you. 

When you see him, you are already reaching for the ice pack, waving your hand at him to give it to you but he pulls it back, not handing it to you. 

You huff in annoyance, looking at him in disbelief. 

Max is standing with a hand on her hip, extending her arm as well as she glares at him in annoyance. 

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, like they are afraid to move or even say anything as they quietly eat their food. 

“Lego head, give me the ice pack–”

He startles you a little by sitting down right behind you, “where do I press?” He asks. 

You’re taken aback by his words and his action, you’re taken aback by his touch. 

“Huh?”

“Where do I press the ice pack?” He asks again, breathing down your neck. 

You glance up at Max, she raises her eyebrows at you. Normally, she is the one who helps you, sometimes it’s Eddie or Robin, but Steve? Steve never helped you. 

She eyes Steve and the look in his eyes, the guilt and the pain from hurting someone when normally, he tries to do everything in his power to protect people, even the ones that he doesn’t like. 

With a sigh, she slowly sits down. 

Despite the pain that is pulsating in your head, you feel shivers running down your spine when Steve moves your hair to the side, his fingertips grazing your skin. 

“Where?”

“I uh–... here,” you mumble, quietly as you point to the spot where it hurts the most. 

“Okay,” he whispers and scoots even closer to you, he presses the ice pack against the back of your head. 

You sigh and relax a little, closing your eyes as you welcome the coldness. 

Your heart flutters in your chest when he presses his free hand on your shoulder, touching you gently. 

“Max, you should eat something,” Robin says, trying to smile at the angry teen. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna heal faster if you eat a burger,” Eddie grins, trying to ease the tension as he hands her the plate. 

“A burger will help me heal, really?” She scrunches her face up but grabs the plate, nonetheless. 

“Yeah, actually. It’ll give you some of the strength back,” Dustin winks at her before he takes a bite of his burger. 

She snorts, shaking her head at them. 

You listen to your friends chatter as you keep your eyes closed. Tilting your head to the side, you lean back slightly, – wishing you could just lean into him. You can sense how tense he is, you are almost certain that you can hear his thoughts, how he is cursing at himself for this, for hurting someone – even if it’s just you. 

“Stop stressing about it, Harrington. It’s nothing,” you sigh, trying to ease some of his tension. 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You and Eddie, I swear if you keep saying this is nothing..” He huffs in frustration. 

Not only does he hate all of this – he also hates the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch, the smell of your perfume, the smell of your body wash that he is close enough to smell – and fuck, does it smell good, good enough to make his stomach feel all weird again. 

You try to chuckle, though he can tell that it’s pained. 

“What, you worried about me, Lego head? Thought I didn’t affect your life at all?” You ask smugly, as though it’s a joke to you. 

Your words feel like a punch to his gut, even though he was the one who said these words to you, it hurts for some reason, because maybe, these words aren’t true in the slightest. 

You might not be someone important to him, you might not be special to him. 

Yet it doesn’t change the feeling he had felt in his gut when he found out that you were on the brink of death, that night. When he saw you in the hospital room hours after your surgery, how lost and empty he had felt when he saw the state you were in. How he sat beside you for hours before the nurses finally kicked him out and told him to go home and rest. 

He clenches his jaw.

“Yes, I’m worried,” he huffs. “So shut up because you will make it worse, Blondie.” He says with full expectation to hear some smartass comment back from you. 

But you stay quiet, fully quiet. 

You open your eyes and you look down at your hands in sadness. 

You wish he didn’t say that to you. You wish he kept the hate comments instead, that he left you with the idea of hating you completely, not showing an ounce of worry towards you. Because this is ruining you. The act of kindness is completely destroying you, and he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t feel it either. 

You really are hopeless. 

>> next chapter

[pearlywritings]

In father's embrace

synopsis: Genshin men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Ayato, Thoma, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Tighnari x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy

word count: 7.2k words

a/n: I really wanted to write Diluc and Kaeya, but realized that I can't create something new since I already have a family AU with them. Here's the materlist's link if you are interested! Also you can find the HSR version of this here!

Ayato 

This man is a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. Both babies took more in their mom’s appearance, but have his soft violet eyes and honestly? This man adores you, his wife, so when he sees your kids develop more and more of your features as they grow - his heart can’t be fuller.

He is a fun and patient dad - he will teach them anything they ask him to, and offer guidance, yet still leaving space for them to learn some on their own. He also enjoys when they sneak into his study during his working hours (because mom decided to take a nap, and Thoma went out grocery shopping, and they are so-so boooooored), letting them wander around the room for the nth time, touching all the trophies and scrolls he has there (all the things that could be of danger were long removed), and when they eventually feel sleepy, crawl closer to him to nap, resting their heads on his thighs while he stays in his kneeling position, writing.

Even if they look a lot like you, it’s so easy to tell that they are his kids - the mischief babbling in their little bodies is untamable for the longest time, and Ayato loves it. Sure, sometimes it is a headache, and mostly for you, but at least they didn’t develop strange tastes in food like their father. More than once they used their similar looks to play pranks on the staff members or their parents, dressing in each other’s clothes and going about their day like that. What does their father think of it? Two words - “promising” and “entertaining”.

They are also their aunt’s absolute delight. Ayaka adores them, showering the two with gifts and attention. And even though she and Ayato are not twins like her niece and nephew - she still feels warmly nostalgic whenever she witnesses their interactions.

Best aunt - thanks to her Vision the twins experienced the joy of ice skating, lessons of etiquette became more fun (though still effective), more days off were granted to her brother to spend time with his family (she practically started stealing his paperwork at some point to fulfill it on her own). She and Thoma are making your life so much easier and for the first time Ayato truly feels at peace and like he is living his life at its fullest. The quiet rooms of the Kamisato Estate are finally filled with joyous laughter and summer warm happiness - his kids are bringing back the light to the gloomily strict atmosphere of the family house.

But sometimes the two only add the workload to his plate in the most wild ways possible.

Ayato closely observes one of his kids - presumably the son - as both the parent and the child are sitting in the room dedicated to the twins’ studying. They have the best tutors Inazuma could provide and both showed exceptional results in all their classes. Even if one of them failed an examination on the first try - the second one was always a success. That was until you walked in on your daughter rewriting her history test, only to discover your son in her place, with his sister’s clothes and blue locks tied in her manner. And that’s when the truth came to light.

Honestly it was no surprise their teachers never suspected anything - only four people could tell the twins apart easily - you, Ayato, Ayaka and Thoma, though the latter had trouble with that occasionally, and your children made sure to speak as similar as possible once the idea of replacing each other appeared. Of which you also learned that day Ayato and you sat them down and urged to tell you everything. The scolding about cheating from you and a lecture from Ayato on the topic of how important it is to do as good as you can on your own were provided, but in the end you just hugged them and said that you do not expect them to be perfect in everything, which left the kids relieved.

But from then on Ayato has been in charge of supervising the twins during their exam retakes. Just like today.

“Public diplomacy, national security, diplomatic etiquette, hm…” the head of the Kamisato clan skips across the paper with questions the tutor gave him beforehand on the latest topic of international relationships. He notices how his child doesn’t fidget and doesn’t even let the eyes run across the room - the straight posture and neutral expression etched on a thirteen-year old’s face is admirable. But he does note the uncharacteristic stiffness. Along with another major thing.

“Princess, where is your brother?”

Eyes widen slightly, but that’s enough to prove that he is correct. He watches his daughter hesitate for a moment, though there is no doubt in his mind that neither of his children would ever lie to him or their mother. And the defeated sigh shows as much.

“Sorry, father,” the girl lowers her gaze in apology. Fishing a hairpin from behind her brother’s kimono lapel, she makes quick work of collecting her hair. Then she looks into his eyes again.

“He is in my room, pretending to be me and probably stressing. Before you ask why we decided to switch - he begged me to.” “Oh?” Ayato puts the papers to the side and rests his chin on an open palm. “Could you please elaborate?” “Remember how we went to the Kujo residence for a playdate?” Her father hums, already getting a vague understanding of what’s going on. “And when we accidentally overheard how the oldest son was being scolded by his father for not doing enough in his studies. And brother got it into his head that if he keeps failing not once but more times, you are going to be disappointed in him. I know he studied for this retake, I helped him with that, but at the last moment he got anxious, and, well, here I am. Like all those years ago.”

“I see,” the man in front of her nods, and she doesn’t see any negative emotion painted on his face. Quite the contrary, he smiles.

“Be a dear, go get your brother and come back together. Change the clothes though. Oh, and tell him I am not mad, okay?” “Okay, father,” she mirrors his smile and relief flashes in her eyes - the girl truly cares for her twin, and that warms Ayato’s heart.

When half an hour later both arrive there is already a table served with tea and sweets, and the head of the Kamisato family immediately invites them to take their seats. His daughter looks calm, which can’t be said about his son - the boy has the most miserable look on his face, holding onto his sister’s hand and staring at the surface of the tea in his cup. Ayato decides to speak first.

“Kujo family is the last people one should take as an example,” his firm, yet reassuring tone makes his son glance at him. “Sure, they are respected, but their methods are too old-fashioned, and the way they treat their children is no good. Do you understand, little blossoms?”

They nod and even if Ayato doesn’t see it, he knows they squeeze each other’s hand.

“You better do, because neither me nor your mother will ever push you to the point of devastation. In studies as well,” the boy bites his lip. “I am serious. I will not be disappointed in either of you if you have to retake one test again and again. Striking for perfection is a good goal, but not when you torture yourself physically and emotionally to achieve it.”

“But father…” his son lifts his eyes and stares right into Ayato’s and it shoots right through his chest how vulnerable the kid looks. “You are perfect. And I don’t want to let you down…” “Me? Perfect? Oh, dear,” the man can’t hold a light laugh back. “Ask your mother and she’ll prove you so wrong, trust me. And none of you is letting me down - you should be proud of yourselves. At such young age you both show bright talents and knowledge - and it’s okay if it’s not the case for every possible field of studies. This is general education, later you’ll get more practice to catch up, or concentrate on your strongest abilities. Listen,” he addresses his son specifically, and the boy cocks his head to the side a little, “be more confident and trust your sister if she insists you are doing well. Don’t be afraid to ask questions and come to me if you feel unsure, alright?”

The boy glances down, letting the words sink in, and Ayato patiently waits. In his mind he admits that it's his oversight - he should've noticed earlier that one of his kids has been struggling. Now he will make sure to change that.

Eventually his son deeply sighs and looks at the adult in front of him with trust reflecting in those pretty eyes.

“Alright,” he nods with a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Slowly standing up and letting go of his twin’s hand, he rounds the table and steps right into Ayato’s outstretched arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck.

“Thank you, father,” he whispers right before burying his face into haori-clad shoulder. “I love you so much.”

And the man smiles, whispering those words back and soothingly patting his back, as the daughter shows him thumbs up with the tenderest look in her eyes.

Thoma

This man is such a sweet dad - nearly cried, when your first child, a girl, was delivered. Same was when a couple years later the son was born too.

Juggling his work and caring for his kids was never an issue for him. A big part of it was played by the Kamisato couple, who allowed him to bring first his daughter and then his son to work, when each of them was old enough. Which, most likely, was what prompted the Kamisatos to have their own kids - one day years ago you and Thoma wanted to have a date night - one you haven't had in a while - and Ayato's wife offered to watch your little baby girl. Does it need to be mentioned she wanted her own kids after that?

Thoma's kids are taught to be polite and respectful, but not overly reserved and quiet, no - in your own house the man would literally let them destroy the kitchen in attempts to bake something as an experiment and then turn cleaning it up into a fun game of three, or four, if you decide to join.

He is that kind of dad, who constantly falls asleep with both kids nestled on his chest and his arms wrapped around them, with a book of tales either lying on his stomach or abandoned on the floor. You literally mastered your technique of waking him up without stirring the kids, so you could bring the two to their rooms.

Your kids love walks, whether it’s in the city or admiring the scenery near the Kamisato Estate. When it’s in the city though, the four of you attract attention without a fail. Especially elders, who coo at the image of Thoma holding his daughter’s hand and you cradling your little boy to your chest. You are literally showered in little gifts and are offered many discounts, because everyone adores and respects your family. At some point for a short period of time a rumor was running around Inazuma City, that if you get to see all four members of the Kamisato retainer’s family, luck is going to follow you through the day. Thoma had to ensure it came to an end, wanting to keep you three safe and not being followed around in your leisure time.

To summarize it’s needless to say that this man is a natural when it comes to being a father. He already aced being a great husband, you never had any doubt that the same would be true about becoming a dad. And it brings you so much joy that your kids are aware of it.

Making your husband's lunch is an essential part of your morning routine. Sure, the Kamisato Estate provides its workers with meals and breaks, but knowing how much Thoma loves your home-cooked meals, you'll never refuse him this pleasure. 

On days like today you pack two more lunches, for your kids - yesterday they expressed their desire to go and help their dad. But you are more than aware of the plan they've had in their mind for the longest time. That's why you turn a blind eye and chop fruits particularly loudly, when you ten- and four-year olds sneak into the kitchen and hide something in the wrapper of an already packed lunch.

And when they were leaving and every member of your family gave you kisses, you couldn’t help but notice the decreased stack of small papers you have in the hall to make notes.

Maybe next time, you’ll ask your kids to join.

Thoma bringing his kids to work is always a pleasant surprise to the Estate’s staff. Even the guards by the gates can’t keep their composure, when the girl cheerfully greets them, wishing a good day, and the boy softly chirps a little “hi” and shyly waves his hand at them. Next person they always meet is Furuta - and the old lady adores their greeting ritual and is the one who looks after the fellow housekeeper’s kids when they help or play outside. But if usually the woman just makes small compliments to the children and chides Thoma for not bringing them over more, today his daughter breaks the routine - she suddenly lets go of his hand and quickly runs to her father’s colleague and asks her to speak in the corner. A bit stunned, the blonde watches the two move farther and start quietly talking. The boy in his arms curiously watches them and then, as if realizing something claps his hands.

“What is it, cookie?” But the only answer he receives is merry giggling.

The next strange thing happens, when the three of them arrive in his room - kids, looking as suspicious as possible, start making excuses to go and play first, though they usually insist on following him around unless they get bored, and as they disappear behind the door with his daughter’s bag - Master Ayato requests his visit. 

Getting out of his office only an hour later, Thoma has to rush to his duties, realizing that he’ll have to speed up if he wants to finish everything the blue-haired man has just told him to do. He even handed him a list with tasks, which never happened. What’s going on?

Not finding the children in his room, he decides to start without them, assuming they'll join him later. Okay, what’s the first thing on the list… Check all the chairs. Alright…

Luckily this piece of furniture isn’t numerous in the residence, giving the culture of Inazuma, and Thoma knows perfectly every single room where he can find them. What he wasn’t expecting to find is the folded papers on the seats of some of those. Upon unfolding each revealed a single letter. Strange… Well, at least the chairs themselves are in the required condition.

Tucking the papers in his pocket and fishing the list out of the other one, the man checks his next destination. Check all the bushes around the main building. Blinking, he looks again. No, the handwriting is definitely his master’s, but the contents? In his style, but why so sudden?

Following every single point, Thoma manages to find in total 13 papers with letters on it, before the list stops being weird and advises the housekeeper to dedicate the time before lunch to his common responsibilities. Which he, with an exhale of relief, proceeds to fulfill.

When the time for lunch rolls around, kids, as if magically, reappear at his side and innocently smile at him, asking how he spent his time. He promises to tell them over lunch.

Lunch, that brings him four more pieces of paper. And suddenly, both kids are not that interested in food.

“Make a phrase, make a phrase!” His daughter chants, holding her brother in her lap, and the little boy claps his hands, chanting ‘make! make!’. Already realizing that all of this was their meticulously crafted plan (to participate in which they managed to convince quite a few people), Thoma doesn’t oppose, putting all the papers on the table in front of him. 

S V E E T S I R H E Y B T

And A P A P which he got from his lunch.

“The” is guessed immediately. “Is” as well. When he reaches for the “A P A P” to add it to the pile, the girl suddenly lunges forward, putting her hand on top of it and shaking her head. Alright, not yet.

S V E E T R Y B is left. Okay, maybe “very” and… “best”!

Moving the pieces around in utter concentration, the man puts the words in the right order. And only then the ten-year old lifts her hand. With a baited breath he moves the four remaining pieces a little more and his heart skips a beat, and the summer-green eyes widen.

PAPA IS THE VERY BEST

“Surprise!” The girl beams with the widest smile, hugging her brother. “We wrote it together! See how some of the letters are clumsy? He did it!” She proudly looks at the boy, gently ruffling his hair. “Recently he was trying to learn how to write! You are the first one who sees it, even mom didn’t! And we chose this phrase, because- dad, are you crying?”

Warm silent tears are indeed running down his cheeks and the man nods, not trusting his voice. A whirlwind of emotions overtakes him, making it a little hard to formulate his thoughts, but he reacts immediately when his kids rush to him, opening his arms and catching them in a tight embrace. He'll tell them how touched he is, he'll praise them, he'll declare his love for them again and again. A tiny bit later. Now he just needs to hold them and hear that he, for real, "is the very best papa".

Alhaitham and Kaveh

Listen, just LISTEN - imagine these men’s pure shock when their wives surprise them over a double date at Kaveh’s house with their pregnancies. Like, AT THE SAME TIME. Kaveh is gaping at his woman, but Alhaitham is no better - a glass with wine frozen in air in the middle of his attempt to put it back on the table as his eyes are not blinking, glued to his spouse. The blonde would be the first one to break from his stupor and tightly hug his wife, kissing all over her face all laughter and little jumping in place, while his junior would finally put the glass down and beckon his woman onto his lap and bury his face in her neck with arms around her body, quietly thanking her for amazing news.

The kids are not even formed in the women’s stomachs, but they already have a story to share.

Alhaitham

Despite not giving the impression the man likes the idea of being a father to a child together with you, his beloved. Of course the pregnancy was planned, but even he couldn’t predict the possibility of you and his friend’s wife being pregnant at the same time. Though he does find it a little amusing and can’t lie to himself that watching you and your female friend discuss the nursery designs, the clothes, the gender, the two babies becoming akin to siblings warms his heart.

He always loved quiet evenings with you, but later, as your bump got more and more prominent, he finds himself craving your back pressed to his chest and his palms cradling your rounding stomach. He talks to his kid in there, reads them books and soothes, when they are restless and don’t let you sleep that well. And that’s how early on you understood who’s going to be the one putting your newborn to sleep, because your persuasions didn’t work that well.

And your husband doesn’t mind. He actually loves cradling his daughter - yes, it’s a little girl! - to his chest and lull her to sleep - it gives him an unimaginable sense of fulfillment.

As your little wonder grows older, Kaveh can’t help but comment how similar her scowl is to her father’s - combined with the annoyed sharp glare of the eyes she also got from him. But that’s only when she is being capricious. Most of the time she is calm and sporting your sweet smile, voice soft and eyes lacking the mentioned above sharpness. 

By the way, she is older than Kaveh’s kid, which makes the Scribe just a little bit smug.

Alhaitham is all too happy to be the one educating her. He makes sure to balance her time spending with him and her time spending with you, encouraging her to engage in your hobbies and have a mother-daughter time. But the most he loves the time the three of you spend together - be it as simple as grocery shopping, having a meal together or cuddling in the evening, or going on whole little expeditions, because his girl wants to explore something on the topic she is currently interested in.

Oh, and he is so biased when it comes to her. There is only one non-scholar kid in all of Sumeru who has her own personal access to the House of Daena, research laboratories, research data and the Scribe’s office at any working hour - and that’s your daughter.

“Look, that’s the Scribe’s wife!”

Taken aback, you stop in your way when at least a dozen students surround you. Raising an eyebrow you survey their faces thoughtfully, noting that they seem to be quite desperate. But even before you can open your mouth they interrupt.

“Tell him to let us in! We have applications to submit!”

“And I have questions why mine was declined!”

“I need his signature on my thesis papers!”

“He locked himself inside with your daughter and said not to disturb their nap! Unbelievable-”

“And how exactly can I help?” You cut through the cacophony of their voices. Students look at you as if you’ve just grown a second head.

“...you are his wife? You can influence him.” “First of all, demanding something from a person you barely know is simply rude,” you narrow your eyes and a chill runs down some of the spines - for a moment you looked just like your husband. “Secondly, I am not involved in his work and I don’t plan to. Now, please, step aside.”

“You can’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, and you can? Let me guess, at least half of you missed deadlines, a small portion made mistakes again and the rest are not in an urgent need to see my husband, but decided to stick with others in hopes that getting to him right now will work?”

Leaving them stunned by your easy guess, you finally push your way through, holding a box with food you brought for lunch close to your chest. Once in front of the door you don’t even have the time to raise a fist for knocking, because the door unlocks and opens, revealing the tall man behind it.

Silently and quickly you step inside and the door shuts again, the key turns in the lock and then is thrown on the nearest table. The office meets you with welcomed tranquility, and dimmed lights are a nice contrast to the blindingly white walls of the Akademiya.

“So, you heard everything? They said you were napping,” you question his guess of when to open the door to let you in. Alhaitham rolls his eyes, glaring at the hindrance you left behind the door, and then takes the box from you.

“I was, but since I lent my earpieces I could hear the commotion in the corridor,” with his free hand he takes yours and leads you further into the room. There, on the sofa, you spot your daughter - wearing her dad’s device and napping, curled under his cape.

“Oh Dendro Archon, she is so adorable,” you coo in awe. “Look how big your things are on her!”

“She demanded I take a break and sit with her,” the Scribe hums, putting the food on the table and then locking both of his arms around you in an embrace. “But the more she was reading to me while sitting at my side, the sleepier she was getting, so we decided to nap.”

You listen to him, while observing your precious girl. She seems serene and content, holding onto the gold-embroidered piece of fabric, surely containing her father’s soothing scent. The earpieces are adjusted to hold onto her head and in silence you can even catch the faintest sounds of a melody. Ah, if only you had a Kamera with you…

“Let’s get her her own earpieces and cape.”

“The cape is unnecessary, but I did consider the device. I could make her her own, especially since she’s been complaining about having hard times to concentrate while she is at the Akademiya.” “But with the cape she’d be just like you!”

“Am I alone not enough for you already?” Light turquoise eyes are hard to read, but you manage to catch a shadow of amusement.

“But matching outfits are charming! Like, remember the last time we’ve been to Kaveh’s? The whole family had matching robes!”

“Then you’ll have to dress like me too.”

“If I am to get an intricate cape and a device to block the sounds of you huffing - I don’t mind.”

Alhaitham huffs. Then stops, realizing he’s just done what you were accusing him of, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Kidding, kidding. Let’s discuss it over lunch. Can you wake her while I am setting the table?”

Your husband nods and, receiving a quick peck to his cheek, releases you from his hold, stepping closer to the sofa.

As you busy yourself with the food, you occasionally glance at the two from the corner of your eye, absolutely swooning over how gently Alhaitham takes the earpieces off, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, softly murmurs her name and coaxes her from sleep with the news that mommy came and brought delicious food with her. And when two sets of identical eyes look at you tenderly, a loving smile lights up your face.

Kaveh

Can you see this man sticking his finger in Alhaitham's direction and declaring that his kid is going to be senior to his friend's? Because I can. (Too bad he was wrong).

As well as I can see this man accidentally becoming supportive not only of you but the other man's family as well - and drawing the blueprints for both nurseries is probably only the beginning (but you were the only one whose every suggestion he took without arguing).

From day one his mind is set on being the best dad for your baby, just like he is the best husband to you. He reads books, seeks advice in Bimarstan, even writes letters to his mother in hopes she'll share her experience, that could help you. Though when it comes to shopping for your yet unborn baby, you have to physically restrain him from buying every single cute plushie or onesie he sees. 

When your daughter is born though, it's getting harder, because your own desire to spoil this golden-haired angel is unmeasurable. Maybe it's because she looks so much like your husband and you are projecting your need to shower him in love and affection and give everything you possibly can, but by the end of the day you just simply love her very much.

Kaveh adores doing anything creative with his daughter. She wants a mosaic in a frame on her wall? They'll put it from the little tiles together and Kaveh would hold her in his arms so she could hang it. She wants a dollhouse? They'll spend the time drawing the draft and picking colors and materials for EVERYTHING. And then he'll be building it, while she crafts little furniture. And it doesn't matter if she did it too small or too big - papa will help her adjust it.

But even so, Kaveh doesn't expect his daughter to be some genius or follow in his steps. No, he knows he'll love her even if she stops sharing the creative approach with him. He knows better than anyone how crushing it is to have everyone's expectations to loom over you and predatory gazes watch tirelessly, anticipating the moment you fail. He gives a vow to himself, to you, to your girl, that he will be there no matter what. 

Matching. Outfits. You own so many it's almost worrisome. But your daughter loves them. There were a couple occasions when she drew her own designs for the three of you and you had it tailored, which left her absolutely ecstatic.

On that note, you believe Kaveh's (tiny) fear that she'll lose interest in creativity is going to be short-lived - especially after your visit to Fontaine to let your daughter meet her granny, which the girl spent with wide open eyes and mouth, absorbing everything around her to use it later.

Also having your daughter earned you a heavy supporter in moments when Kaveh starts to overwork. He can't resist the charm of both of his girls and is easily swayed to the nearest sofa/bed to cuddle and share lots of kisses. All his life he has been the anchor for others - now he has two people to be that for him.

Kaveh is easily spooked by sudden noises, and your eleven-year old daughter knows that. That's why she makes sure to tap her feet loud enough to hear their approach through the door of his study. Balancing a small tray with a cup of tea and your special dessert in one hand, she lifts the other to gently knock on the door.

"Come in, baby!" Reaching higher she pulls the handle.

The floor littered with crumpled papers isn't a new sight to her, just as her father's hunched back over the properly lit table. But when the door closes, the architect immediately puts the pencil down and turns around, giving her a big smile.

"Hi, sweety," he is beaming, seeing her adorable face and a growing smile, complementing those precious twinkles in her eyes.

"Hi, papa!" She chirps like a little birdie - her actual nickname - and Kaveh nearly drops his head in his palms and cries. How can he be a father to someone so tender?

"Mama said you are working and made you something! I helped," she lifts the tray, showing him what she has. "We hope you will like it."

Oh, he definitely will, he doesn't doubt it. Carefully wrapping his fingers around the edges, the man takes his late afternoon snack and brings it closer to his face, inhaling the sweet smell of the desert and a soothing aroma of the tea.

"Thank you, little birdie," he puts the tray aside and bends lower to wrap his arms around her and smooch her cheek. "You and mama are the best."

"Hehe, we know," she giggles. "You are the best too."

"Awww," Kaveh can't help but nuzzle against her cheek, gaining another giggle and a cute scrunch of her nose.

"Daaaaaaaad!"

"Sorry, sorry, baby, you are just so adorable. Just like your mama."

"But mama says I am pretty like you."

"Both can work together," he assures her, but a soft blush covers his cheeks. No matter how many years have passed, he still gets shy whenever his wife uses "pretty" to describe him.

"Okay!" She simply agrees, giving him a big hug. "Sorry, but I should be going now. Mama wants to go grocery shopping and I want to help her."

Now that she says this, Kaveh pays closer attention to her outfit - the white sundress with pink roses is definitely not something she'll wear at home.

"Alright then, let me escort you downstairs."

Standing up, he easily hoists her in his arms and lets her perch on his left one, as her arms wrap around his neck.

When they reach the hall, the girl has managed to make two braids in his hair, now twisting them around each other. Kaveh finds both her and your obsession with touching his hair amusing, but sometimes it feels nice and relaxing. And you did put him to sleep by scratching his head on multiple occasions.

You, who are standing in front of the mirror, and even witnessing just your profile, the architect is in love all over again. 

He should take you on a date later this week.

"Well, I definitely wouldn't mind that," you chuckle, turning to face him and offering your most teasing smile. Ah, he said the date part out loud, didn't he? "But right now I need to go and take care of our dinner's ingredients."

Your husband nods in understanding and puts your daughter down, dusting the skirt of her dress and making sure everything is intact. Getting a quick peck on the nose, he gives her one on the forehead and straightens up to immediately welcome you into his embrace and share a soft kiss.

“Be sure to take a break and enjoy the snack we made for you. And I mean it when I say taking a break. We all remember how you spilled your morning coffee over the blueprint and had to redraw everything again. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

A wild shiver runs down Kaveh’s spine and he feverishly shakes his head. No, if there is one thing he is certain in it’s hating the repetition of this.

“You don’t have to remind me,” his heavy sigh ghosts over your skin. “And it won’t happen again.”

“I believe in you!” You cheer joyfully and it warms his heart.

“I believe in papa too!” Your daughter throws her fists in the air. “Papa can do anything!”

“Of course he can,” you gently nudge her back, ushering her to the front door. “See you soon, Kaveh. We love you.”

“I love you too.”

Waving at your leaving figures he waits until you shut the door and stick the key in the lock, before smiling to himself and returning to his study.

The tea got a little cold and the dessert’s top melted just a tiny bit, but both are still incredibly delicious. Leaning back in an armchair with a plate resting on his knee and a cup wrapped in his hands, the man feels happily at ease and two precious girls are the reason why.

Tighnari 

Frankly, I don't think Tighnari has ever given much thought to becoming a dad, let alone settling down with someone. But taking care of Collei, becoming her mentor, stepping so close to becoming a parental figure, probably played its role as well.

Biggest part, of course, was you - another pretty fennec hybrid, who, due to the same biological background, could share a lot of things with him that the man couldn't and honestly didn't want to bother explaining to others, he sure has other things to fulfill.

It took years of courting from both sides, but eventually, you two settled down together, content with each other as a partner. When the talk of kids happened, the forest ranger was hesitant - he knows he can handle a kid, he can handle ten if required thanks to his immense patience and love for teaching, but since you were different from humans, the man was aware that you could be carrying more than three babies at one time. Even if your body is built to handle it by evolution, he still didn't want to make you go through with so much. Initially. However when you looked so hopeful to have a family with your beloved, swore it's going to be just one time and then you'll keep using protection like before, he was convinced and actually quite excited.

So much nuzzling during your pregnancy. So much nuzzling when the babies are born - three beautiful boys and one girl, with the prettiest fluffy tails and ears of yours or his fur. He immediately jumped to being a father, without any complaint taking care of your kids, while you were recovering. He adores them so much, but at times hardly manages to keep an eye on all four - good thing you moved into a bigger house that is closer to the ground, because little explorers did try to escape outside on multiple occasions.

What gets Tighnari's heart burst like fireworks though? Spotting you napping with all of your babies huddled in your embrace, body practically curled around them and a tail resting on top. The first time it happened - maybe a couple of weeks after you gave birth to them - Tighnari left you alone with the kids to do an examination on the work of forest rangers in his absence, and when he returned back - he nearly collapsed from how adorable the five of you looked. Definitely joined.

From their early age he taught his kids everything about the forest so they would be prepared, and, even he won't ever admit it, it stirred something in his chest when they looked up at him with wonder and fascination in their gleaming eyes. They were also taught to be independent, but at the same time to work as a team, and they are so good at that.

The circle of four is absolutely perfect. Little hands are swift and precise, and the absolute concentration is written on the seven-year olds adorable faces. You and Tighnari even stopped your own grooming of each other’s tails to observe your kids’ routine of doing the same thing, but among themselves.

With four pillows on the floor they once again made themselves comfortable, just like every evening, equipped with different kinds of brushes and safe oils. 

You put your chin onto Tighnari's shoulder, still holding his tail in your lap, with yours resting under his palm, and make a soft sound, loud enough for him to recognize and not alert the kids. Your husband nods, purring in response and rubbing his cheek against your temple.

"They are so adorable, 'nari," you sigh, watching the four being so absorbed with their task that they don't even talk. The male couldn't agree more, lifting the corners of his mouth in a smile and then picking another brush to get busy with the tip of your tail.

"They absolutely got it from you, my dear. And did you notice how much progress they've made in the fur-caring routine?"

Tighnari doesn't see that, but you, still staring forward at your kids, clearly see how four pairs of ears prick up. How cute, someone wants the praise.

"That they did. And I don't know about you, but at the age of 7 I didn't even know that the fur has to be clean and taken care of anyhow. I guess, I never gave it much thought when my mom did it for me. Our little ones are so independent."

Four tails move a little, kids clearly delighted.

"You are right, they are," Tighnari hums, running his fingers through your now well-groomed fur, and your children hold their chins up proudly. "If only this independence didn't extend to trying to escape to the forest on their own against all of my warnings."

Inhumane eyes glare at the frozen bodies of the "explorers" in question, making them lower their gaze and pick up from where they stopped their routine. Oh, they know what they've done.

You can only sigh, fully understanding your husband's concerns, and finish tending to his tail.

Next is the balm you generously scoop onto your palm to rub into the rough texture of your fox-like pads. When you do the same for Tighnari, receiving a tender kiss to your nose, and then to each of your babies, as they walk to you one by one, still with guilty, pouty, but adorable faces, while your husband is putting away all the tools and products.

Soon your bed is occupied with all of your kids, snuggling to your sitting body and drowsily asking to sleep with you two tonight. Even the thought of making a dozen more steps to their own rooms is killing the last energy in them - the routine has an incredible side effect: they immediately become sleepy when they are done and you don't have much trouble with putting them to bed.

Especially when the bed is right here. The bed that became a large one not even a couple of months along their lives, because this has been a common occurrence.

"Mommy, daddy, can we sleep with you tonight, please?" Your daughter lifts her pleading eyes at you, being the one who managed to directly slide into your lap and into your embrace. Three boys, attached to your sides silently lift their eyes too, pouting in attempts to break your resolve. Which wasn't here in the first place.

"What'd you say, 'nari?" Chuckling, you look at your husband climbing onto the bed to join the five of you.

"Weren't we just discussing their independence? They can surely walk to their rooms. Come on, babies, back to your beds."

"Noooooooooo," their hold on you immediately becomes a death grip. "We want to stay with you!"

"Kids, I can't breathe-" you gasp from the crushing hug of at least two pairs of arms squeezing your middle.

"We want to stay, we want to stay, we want to stay!"

"That's what you should've told yourselves earlier this morning when you decided to get to the river with spinocrocodiles. That you want to stay. Home. Until I or your mother could go on a walk with you outside the village."

At his strict tone and at the reminder of them nearly losing their tails this morning to the sharp jaws of wild animals, four little foxes lower their eyes, ashamed. But they do relax their hold around you.

Tighnari sighs, rubbing his temples and contemplating when he's going to get his first gray hairs.

"Okay, I'll let you sleep with us tonight, BUT," he slightly raises his voice to emphasize, especially since the four immediately got in high spirits, "if something like this happens again - you are losing this privilege for a week. Are we clear?"

"Yes, daddy…"

"Yeah.."

"Mhm…"

"Sure, dad…"

And that's the only confirmation Tighnari needs before lifting the covers, because no matter how restless and disastrous your children can be - he has almost as hard a time as you do telling them "no".

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader (2)

ᯓ★ angst, fluff, typical the boys content, Butcher is an asshole?!?! (what a surprise) 😲. Reader is fem!! Here's part 1 if you missed it. (Didn't proof read because im sick again 🤒)

Sounds of muffled talking... needles poking through your skin... your mind fogged from the effects of the drugs... the heavy feeling of helplessness as you were tied down. Nothing you could do. You were hopeless. You didn't stand a chance.... Slowly you squint your eyes open as the vision of your friend's corpse comes to view. The horrifying sight jerking your body awake.

"Oh...oh..." You breath heavily with your body covered in cold sweat. The adrenaline coursing through your veins. You looked around to make sure you weren't inside your cage, but rather inside the room your brother had given to you.

When you were sure you were safe, you let out a relieved sigh as you rub your eyes, giving yourself a moment to settle down. Something tells you this won't be the last nightmare you'll have. Once you were sure you were in a stable condition, you got out of bed and decided to head downstairs to what seemed to be their office.

After last night when you were taken to their headquarters, Butcher offered you some clothes to change into and also making sure you were well fed. From how exhausted you were at the time, you could only remember talking about something to Butcher before passing out on his bed.

As you descend from the stairs, you couldn't help but peek your head to look at who were present. Even though they were told to be his friends. You yourself weren't that 100% willing to trust a bunch of strangers just because he said they were 'not the worst people he's met'. To your surprise it was just three people inside and they were each doing their things.

Butcher wasn't anywhere in sight.

This sucks.

Since you aren't planning to stand and wait at the stairway, you entered the office, it only took a few steps for your presence to be noticed. You sat on the sofa just a few feet from the girl who appeared to be busy writing in her book. She shoots you a warm smile which you hesitantly smiled back.

"I'm (Y/N)... what's your name?" You asked but she suddenly shifts her eyes from you to someone else. Curious, you looked over the sofa to see someone already approaching you.

"Her name's Kimiko..." He said as he takes a seat beside you.

"You still remember my name yes? I was the one who snuck you out" You thought for a second before finally recognising him.

"Frenchie right?" You asked and judging from the smile on his face. You must be right.

"I didn't get to say but thanks for rescuing me" You said to which he laughs.

"Ahh...! Don't thank me! Your brother would have skinned me alive if I refused. If you had seen his outrage when he found out Homelander had you involved, you'd think twice before pissing him off by saying no" He recalled, emphasising everything he says through his hand gestures and facial expressions.

"He does have a temper..." You uttered.

Just then the door opens and all four of you turned to see Butcher walking in with another guy. You got to your feet and went over to your brother who after taking off his coat, hands you the takeaway he had bought.

"Here ya go sis. I figured durin' your days as a lab rat you probably ate like one" He said as you realise he had bought you your favourite food.

The simple gesture somehow making you feel like a kid again. The simpler times where you felt stress free. Just sleep and eat. Though you didn't dwell too much into the feeling as the feeling of hunger soon made you quickly sit down and started eating. Butcher eyes you for a second before walking off to talk to his friend about something that you could care less about.

Mm... good food...

You were too focused gobbling down the food in front of you that you failed to notice the guy sitting on the chair before you. He watches you consciously as you ate like you never eaten in ages. It was when you began to choke that he panicked and quickly pushed the cup of water towards you. His hands retreating back to his lap to avoid any contact with your skin.

As you gulp down the water and finally waited for the burn in your chest to vanish was when you realised you had been eating like a wolf. Months of being locked up by Homelander felt like a physiological torture that you seemed to have lost all your self control. You really lost touch with humanity. It makes you hate him even more for what he did.

"Hey um... you holding up alright? We haven't properly met. I'm Hughie" He said once he sees you zoning out. You look at him with your brows slightly raised.

His voice was somehow soothing. Like the feeling of a fever dream.

"I'm (Y/N)"

"I know" He smiles slightly at you, almost like he's fascinated by your presence.

"So you're his sister. I didn't even think he had any family. He was always private about his life"

"So am I. I guess it runs in the family..."

Your harmless joke making him chuckle softly. As you go back to eating in a more slower pace, he couldn't help but watch your every movement. It was like watching a kid eating for the first time. When they had saved you, you were almost all bones. Your hands are trembling even now just from holding the spoon.

Just even thinking of that night, what still intrigued him was even after those months of torture you still had the energy to argue with your brother. It was there where he finally understood how you were both related. You were just as much as a fighter as your brother is.

"Ahh motherfucker" You cursed as you fan at the fly to get away from your food though the second it touches your skin, it instantly drops dead on the table.

The two of you stared at it as it twitches slightly before going limp.

Problem... solved?

"I assume that you did that on demand?"

"I... think so?"

Just when you thought things were ever gonna be back to normal, your powers always had to remind you of the true reality. The reality that you are NOT normal. Since you were curious of your new abilities, you reached out and touched the flower pot just placed in the center of the table.

Just one touch of your finger on the leaves. The plant slowly devolves from a lively colour to a rotting brown. The flower withers as the stem grows weak. Due to the lack of stability, it collapses completely. Somehow the sight of the dead plant made your throat dry. Images of your friend's corpse flashing in your mind.

Hughie took notice of your dilated eyes and decided to take the plant off the table, placing it carefully on the ground to make sure it's out of your sight. You could only take long breaths as you tried to get rid of the terrible image. Gosh... you can't even imagine how her family is dealing with this... or if they even know she's... sigh..

"Oi!" The sound of Butcher's call causing you two to look at him. When he waves at you to head over to him, you shoot Hughie an apologetic look as you got up to see what he's calling you for.

"You know you don't have to call me over like a dog, I have a name"

"Oh really? Your character hardly screams 'man's best friend', especially with that pissy look" He teases you with a slight smirk which you simply ignored.

"What is it?"

He stares at you, taking note of your expressionless face before nodding to himself. His whole demeanour becoming serious within seconds.

"It's about your powers" He said, his words catching your full focus in an instant.

"From what we've known... the only possibility for a non-supe person to have powers is to dose themselves with a modified version of compound v. But that's only temporary, and yours... are permanent" Butcher said, his eyes avoiding yours.

"Whatever they did to you, we're gonna figure it out... so, while I do that, M.M will be supervisin' you, won't ya M?" Butcher said, looking over his friend who's hunched over his table and writing something down.

"Well if it ain't me then who else is gonna"

"I can!" Frenchie spoke up, his forwardness catching everyone's attention. Once he realises the looks he was getting, he awkwardly smiles.

"You know, for research" He adds. You sigh as you close your eyes, turning your head to face your brother.

What are you getting yourself into at this point...

"Nothing you say quite makes sense to me. The fuck is a compound v??"

"It's what gives the supes their powers"

"What??" You narrow your brows.

"You're saying they weren't gifted?? Like, God didn't bless them and made them our saviours?? They're just a bunch of normal people high off of superpower drugs??" He grins widely at your conclusion.

"Congratulations sis, you're finally catchin' up" He said, giving you a pat on the back before walking away. You stand there, still a bit confused before going after him.

"Waitwaitwait, where are you going? You just got back a few minutes ago" You asked as he puts on his coat.

"I'm going to meet someone. Hopefully they can help me with your situation, or at least provide some insight on what Homelander did to you"

Homelander.

Just the mention of his name being said by someone made your blood boil.

You wanted to tear him apart.

"Alright... but don't take too long... okay?" You look at him, almost like you were trying to beg him to stay with your eyes. You could tell it was working when you saw how his face started to relax a bit.

"Yeah..." He reaches for your head but stops midway when he realises he can't.

The sad reality of wanting to hold his own sister could cost him his own life was completely breaking him.

All the more reason to meet up with this contact to figure out a solution.

He doesn't say anything after letting his hand fall to his side. You could only stand there and watch him leave. Somehow, some part inside of you was fearful of the speech Homelander gave you was becoming true. That his goal of striking fear in Butcher by using you was slowly working.

"Hey, (Y/N). I'm gonna need you to come here" M.M said. You didn't say anything but sat on the chair he instructed you to sit on. You watch as he scribbles something on his book before eventually turning to face you.

"Alright so I wrote down some theories and I need you to work with me" He said, his instructions pretty clear. Your eyes however couldn't help but peek at what he had written down.

Does it only work when it's in contact with skin?

Is it like poision? Or does it disintegrate everything it touches?

Can it be controlled?

If it's dangerous then how dangerous can it be?

"Here, put these on" He then handed you a pair of leather gloves.

You took it and did just as he said. You couldn't help but clench your hands a couple of times to adgust to the fabric of the gloves. Somehow you felt hopeful of this plan. Just then you see him pick up a small plant and placing it on the table in front of you. He nods his head towards it, telling you to touch it.

Though you hesitated... before finally obliging.

You let your fingertips touch the leaves just as you did only a few minutes ago to the other plant. To your surprise, it didn't change colour nor grow weak. It was perfectly fine. This discovery caused you to be overjoyed to the fact you were struggling to form words. M.M simply nodded as he wrote something in his book.

"Holy shit it worked" You exclaimed and couldn't help but stare down at your gloved hands.

"Guess the only thing that can stop you from hurting someone is those gloves..." He turns to face you once again. The smile on your face slightly drops at the mention of hurting someone.

"Guess so..." You uttered, a wave of sadness washing over the joy you were experiencing just now. This will have to be the new normal now...

"Hey, at least it's better than nothing" He said, giving you a comforting pat on the arm. You look at him with a grateful smile, acknowledging his optimistic view of the outcome.

For the next few days you were able to conduct several experiments with the boys. Ranging from testing out your strength to trying to read minds. There were definitely some very odd ideas they've come up with but neither of them wanted to leave out anything so they had to think of all the possibilities of what you could do. Although you were still uneasy about this new change, you felt reassured after knowing more about your powers. In a way you like to think that you had more control over yourself.

It was now Sunday, you were in their office resting on the sofa. Compared to your first day here, you could tell by your own body language that you were beginning to grow comfortable around the group. As you watched whatever was on the TV, you overheard a conversation going on between Butcher and M.M nearby. However judging by their tone it seemed to be about something serious.

"Seriously Butcher? You want to get him involved?" M.M said, displeased with something.

"Nobody knows this better than he does and I'm runnin' out of options"

"Options or patience Butcher, do you have any idea what he's done? If you ever so blink, he will put a bullet right between your eyes"

"Well then, you can rest assure that I'll keep my eyes wide open for any bullets" Butcher's stubbornness earning an annoyed grunt out of M.M.

"Relax mate... I've got this. When have I ever let you and the others down, huh?" He said, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"You actually want me to answer that?"

Without saying another word, Butcher simply walked away and you, who've been secretly hearing their conversation couldn't help but take a peek of your brother. Once you see him heading to the other part of the room far from the rest, you decided to get up and approach him.

"Are you having a fun time staring at the wall?" You said, pointing out how he has his arms folded as his hand is stroking his chin. His brows perked at your words.

"You're talkin' about me?" He scoffs.

"Honestly it's better than starin at your face... what do you want?" He looks at you, a playful look on his face.

"What were you talking about with M.M just now? Sounds like it was tough"

"Oh it's nothin', he's just being dodgy about the guy I strucked a deal with"

"If I heard it right, he also said he's slick enough to put a bullet through your head" You lift your gloved hand up to point at his forehead which he simply brush your hand away from his face.

"I've got my share of bullet wounds, I'll survive"

"Not through the skull though"

"How ironic, you've always did call me hard-headed sis" Just as he said that, he started to walk off like he always does when he feels himself being lectured by you, or anyone. That's why you stood in his way when he was just a few feet from the door.

"Where are you going?"

"What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Okay, fine, don't tell me, just take me with you" He stares at you, unsure of what you were trying to do.

"No way in hell am I bringing you outside"

"If that's your concern then I can wear a disguise. Nobody will know it's me"

"Nobody is not my concern, my concern is you. What if you accidentally let a bit of your skin show and you, oh I don't know, turn a pedestrian into a fucking mummified corpse"

"What the fuck are you crying about? I can wear layers! C'mon, anything to get out of this cooped up place for once"

"You're complaining about this being cooped up? Tell me, would you rather spend a year here or that lab?"

"Hey fuck you! That is not what I meant! I just wanted to go outside!"

"Alright alright! Would you two quit it before you tear my ears off" M.M said, having to be the one to end the bickering.

"I was just about to leave anyways" Butcher didn't even look you in the eye and walked past you. His attitude was making you angrier than ever.

You just wanted to shout and throw things around. This is just like your argument with him regarding his path of going down a life of committing crimes against supes. He always never chooses to take you seriously. Yet even after years where you'd think the consequences of his actions would shape his character a bit, it sure as hell didn't, instead it just gave him a sloppy kiss on the face. You went upstairs into your bedroom and just as you open the door, you found Hughie inside. Awkward, he quickly stands from where he was crouching.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"Oh uh sorry I was looking for the tools Frenchie asked for, he said it was in Butcher's room... which... is... your room now..." He clears his throat as he avoids your gaze.

"Is it the yellow box with the 'Do not touch' note on it?"

"Y-Yeah how do you—?" Without even letting him finish, you were already heading over to your bed to get it out from underneath it. You hand it to him and he takes it with a surprised look. The heavy weight causing his body to drop a bit but he quickly recovers from it.

"I guess I'll go... thanks" He said but you had your back turned to him as you went to sit down on your bed, clearly indicating you weren't in the best mood. He walks to the door, though he doesn't leave. After hesitating, he turns around to face your back once again.

"You okay?" He calls out. His question leaving you feeling even more conflicted.

"Just Butcher" You replied.

Oh.

Somehow that simple answer clears it up. He may not have worked with him the longest but he's worked long enough to know that the man can be such a pain in the ass. Pretty much a day with the man is enough to get a clear picture of his personality. What didn't make it any better was the difference in their beliefs about the supes.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Hughie asks. You stared down at your hands that are scratching at your nails. You do wanna talk about it but you're not sure anyone would listen to you, like actually understand how you felt.

"Are you gonna judge me?" You asked.

"Judge you? Why would I do that?"

"Well... would you be concern if I told you I'm debating whether or not if I should punch him the next time I see him?" You looked at him, searching for his reaction.

"... would it make you feel better if I told you I once had?" He said and the image of someone like Hughie punching Butcher made you chuckle a bit to yourself.

"I find that very hard to believe... but did it at least feel good?" You look at him and you could see him slowly inviting himself into the room as the conversation continued on.

"It did. For a while..." Soon he sat himself beside you on the bed.

"I don’t wanna seem like I'm intruding but why is it that you guys are always at each other's throats... I mean, he really seems to care about you so shouldn't you two get along well?"

"Psssh... he doesn't care about me"

"Errr, if he didn't he wouldn't have gone out of his way to save you from Homelander. He even sent me to spy on you when you were at work once. It was kinda—"

"Huh?" You interrupt him and your reaction had him hold his tongue.

"Spy on me? When was that?" He stares at you, batting his lashes at you blankly a few times.

"Uh I thought Butcher told you... I was the customer who asked to go to the restroom. Remember? The one with the jacket on?" He said but you were having a hard time recalling the exact memory. Your mind still a bit fuzzy from everything that happened before the kidnapping.

"I don't know... but I can't believe he would do that. Spying on me?" You said and once again the anger that was slowly dying down was now going back up.

"He was worried about you"

"If he was worried about me then he would talk to me face to face, not send one of his friends while he hid away like a coward"

"Maybe he was trying to find the right time?" You suddenly turn your head to look at him.

"Why are you making so much excuses for him??" You called him out since you figured from some of the things he told you, he probably hated him just as much as you did.

"I don't know... maybe it was that night when you guys hugged that... kinda changed my mind about him a bit... it's hard to explain but a different side of him showed. After you went to sleep, he stayed up the entire night in the office figuring out how to help you. I did try to get him to sleep but he just started cursing at me to fuck off" He said, recalling the night.

Just thinking of your brother going through computers and documents trying to find the reason behind your manifestation of powers made your heart melt a bit. You can only imagine the hours of sleep he missed, not that he even gets enough sleep but all that hours he could be using to rest and instead using it to solve your issue was nice yet sad to know. Too bad it lead him to doing business with some shady person you don't even know about. All because he wanted to help you.

"So I'm pretty sure that yeah, he does cares about you..." You stare at him, somehow amused at his way of talking things out with you.

"You really went all out trying to prove a point huh?" You said to which he laughed.

"Force of habit maybe? Anyways, I better go, Frenchie needs his tools and you look like you need some rest" He got up and began heading towards the door again but before leaving, he stops to look at you.

"Hopefully you guys work it out. He's been through a lot and I think having his family close by might keep him... human" He added. You take his words into consideration as he finally goes.

....

"Why'd you let that happen to me?" She yelled through her tears, grabbing at your shoulders as if she needed support from her limping body.

......

"You dragged me into this mess!!" Her nails were so sharp you felt like it was digging through your skin.

.............

"You killed me!! You were my friend!! You fucking bitch!!!" You couldn't breath. You felt like you were floating in an endless void.

...................

"Rot with me" She uttered. You scream as thousands of hands began grabbing at every corner of your body. The countless amount of nails on your skin sent shivers down your body. You try to scream for help but its as though your voice was stuck in your throat as no sound comes out.

........................

"NO!! STOP!!" You shout as you awake on your bed. Your screams were loud enough that it caused the door to swing open.

Your brother quickly sat himself on the bed, being careful to wrap you in the blanket before holding you close in his arms. Though your mind was too focused on the nightmare to even know who it was that was holding you. Her whisper like voice, her skeleton face, and fuck... the feeling of the thousand of nails poking your skin haunted you even more. It was so real.

"Sis... hey...! You're safe. You're here with me. No one's goin' to hurt you" He said, his voice being the thing to bring you back to the present. Your breathing somehow steadies after scanning the room to double take.

You really are safe.

"Shit.. sorry..." You could only say as your brother rubs his hand behind your back. The sight of your pale face grew concern.

"You wanna talk about what's got you screamin' in your sleep?" He asks and you let out a half embarrassed sigh. Hopefully you weren't that loud.

"I don't think I'm ready for that..." You said since what you wanted to do now was forget it.

"Aight..." He nods and continues on rubbing your back to provide some comfort. He's not big with words so this is the most he can do...

The room remained silent while you enjoyed the peace you got from his presence. When you felt yourself finally able to think rationally, you can't help but think of what Hughie told you. Working things out... To be clear, talking about your feelings with your family, let alone your sibling ain't easy as it seemed. But seeing the things you and him have gone through, that seems like the best option right now.

"Can I ask you something?" You look up at him and he looks down at you, you could tell he was worried about what you might say, yet he nods.

"Go ahead"

"... what happened after I left... like how did it lead to this? To... how you are now...?" You asked and it caused him to look away with a defeated grunt. As though he saw the question coming from a mile away.

"Theres not much to say... I fought... and I did what I had to do to survive... I wish I could tell you I was a good person for it but... I'd be lying, you wouldn't look at me now if I told you half the things I've done" He answers with his hand placed on your arm. You frown.

"It feels as though you're treating me that way already. You're my brother but sometimes you treat me like I'm just a package to you. That's what your job is about right? Whatever this job is..."

"That's not true sis..."

"Then why does your face tell another story?" You said and your words made him furrowed his brows even more. He stares at you, as if he's considering something in his mind.

"... you won't understand it"

"What don't I understand? We're family right? Blood is thicker than water. That sort of bullshit. We've been through hell together as kids. Having to take abuse from our shitty parents... then losing Lenny..." The mention of his deceased brother pained him even more that he was struggling to maintain eye contact at this point.

"Don't push me away... not again..." You pleaded while placing your other hand on top of his arm. He stayed quiet... almost too long that you were beginning to think he was gonna choose the quiet route out of the conversation until he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"How do I even start... I was furious when I found out Homelander got you involved in our fued.. but then through that rage, I also thought... what if I never went on pissing off a bunch of supes for my selfish reasons? It could have prevented how it led to this. To how he found you" Butcher began to say and you could just hear the guilt in his voice as he began confessing to you about his feelings.

"I regret some choices and some not so much... sometimes I wonder if I should've listen to you and visited that therapist you suggested. I still have the card in my wallet... but I also thought the road was too blurry to head back. I've already got too much blood on my hands, enough to fill a whole sea..." He pauses, then letting out a shaky breath.

"But if I'm being honest with you, my biggest regret would be puttin' you in any danger. Now I can't even look at you without being reminded of my mistakes... that's why it was better that you hated me instead, because it's not fair for you to forgive me after all that"

All his talking about himself was painful to even hear. Let alone the sad and defeated expression on his face. This was the most vulnerable he has ever shown himself to you. The big brother you always thought to be this indestructible force was now bawling out his emotions to you. Oddly enough, you felt glad to see him open himself up to you. This was a new start... when he became quiet, you decided to speak.

"I get why you'd think that but... didn't you tell me it was useless to dwell on things you know is irreversible? Yeah sure, I did have bad stuffs happen to me but you also helped me out of it"

"Bad things which you wouldn't be in if it weren't for me" He was quick to add when you paused but you were fast to respond.

"I know I know but... my point is... some good came out of it... and we can't change the past so we might as well control what comes next. You know... shape our destiny..." You said, feeling awkward as he stares at you a bit too hard but suddenly out of nowhere he snorts into laughter.

"What! Why are you laughing about?" You were confused at his reaction because you weren't sure if he was genuinely humoured or losing his sanity.

"I didn't know you were into that cheesy Shakespeare shit. Where'd you read that one from? The library?" He wheezes and you roll your eyes from his teasing. He can never take you seriously.

"Did you even hear what I said?" You said and from his body shifting a bit was when you realise your feet has been pressed against his leg the entire time you've both spoken. The heavy weight of the blanket must have made it harder to feel.

Even though your skin is touching his, he doesn't seem to be rotting or anything. Rather, he's still laughing at your talk just now. When he finally stops is when you point out your discovery to him. By the time he sees it, he's fast to pull his leg from contact of your skin as to not play with his luck.

"Well shit... what do you make of that?" Butcher looks at you after pretty much leaping up to his feet.

"Then it means that my powers could be controlled?? How is the question..." You said but Butcher seemed to have lose interest on that as another thing is already on his mind.

"So you don't blame me... after everything?" He asked and you look at him, your body frozen with your hand was in the process of lifting up your feet just now to get a close inspection.

"No... but if you keep pissing me off with your attitude I might start hating you" You said after finally leaving your feet alone. He chuckles lowly.

"You're not the brightest person I know" He said but there was a smile on his face. A happy one to be precise.

"That's because I'm related to you, fucker" You joked back.

Eventually after you two seemed to resolve the tension between you both, you manage to go back to sleep with Butcher willing to watch over you by sitting beside you on the bed, but it didn't take long for him to fall asleep, which trying to be as discreet as possible, you were able to catch a peek of. Since you didn't want him to freeze, you place the extra blanket onto him. After all, maybe he's not that much of an asshole.

TAGS

@demodemo909 @naniky @1infp1

[dreamescapeswriting]

Scarf To You ~ KSM

☪WORD COUNT: 1.7K

☪GENRE: established relationships, cute fluffy, seungmin and reader having a crush

☪PAIRING: Seungmin x Fem!Reader

☪Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

☪MASTERLIST

a/n: I hope this is okay for you! I’ve tried to write it in a way with everything included 🥺

Your fingers fidget with the edge of your jacket as you sit in the nurse's station, trying to focus on anything but the nerves bubbling in your stomach. This job was supposed to be exciting — working as an on-site nurse for JYP Entertainment — but the pit in your chest told a different story. It's not the new environment that has you anxious; it's the possibility of running into him.

Kim Seungmin.

You haven’t seen him in almost a month, not since the rumours started swirling about him dating someone else, not like the two of you were a couple but the endless flirting you'd done back and forth certainly made you feel that way.

It had been a gut punch, hearing it through the grapevine, and seeing the photos circulate online of him and some unknown woman cuddled up together. Even though nothing was confirmed, it hurt more than you wanted to admit. After all, the two of you had shared something… something you thought was real, even if unspoken. Even if you weren't exactly sure what that something was, there was something there between you and you knew he felt it as well.

Now, sitting here in the same building where he spends most of his days, it feels like your heart is ready to leap out of your chest at the thought of seeing him again. Your friend told you there was little to no chance of you running into each other but it didn't exactly put your heart at ease.

"Earth to Yn," your friend, Hana, calls out, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. She’s perched at the edge of the desk, her eyes studying you with playful curiosity. She was the reason you took this job, she'd told you to take it since you'd been on the hunt for something similar anyway.

"You look like you’re a million miles away. What’s going on?" You offer her a tight smile, shaking your head slightly. If you told her what was going on in your mind she'd tease you for it, or worse actually find Seungmin.

She was on the side of telling him the truth about everything. Admitting how much you loved him and just letting it all out into the air but you were refusing to.

"Nothing. Just… you know, first-day jitters." You shrugged and she smirked at you, shaking her head a little. She knew exactly when you were lying.

"It's about him again, right?" She watched you, studying your reaction but you shook your head. Moving over to the drawers inside of the room and doing a stock check on everything even though you'd done that four times already.

"I don't know what you're talking about," You mumbled, looking at all of the bandages in the drawer you were searching through. Trying to appear busy so she would drop the subject and move on already.

"Sure, and I'm a princess from Eldora. Tell me what's going on." She pulled your hand away from the drawers and made you look at her.

Sighing a little you rolled your eyes, she was probably sick of hearing you talk about it but you couldn't help but let it all out.

"It's weird...What if I see him? Do I act like I don't know about the dating rumours?"

"Yes, because they're not true." She mumbled at you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed and shaking her head at you. She'd been telling you this from the start that none of the rumours had actual hard evidence behind them.

"But-"

"Yn, if Seungmin was dating someone I would fucking know about it. I have eyes and ears all over this place. that man's solely had his eyes on you for the last six months." She laughs softly and you feel your body heating up.

Seungmin and you had been talking for six months, ever since he'd seen you helping an elderly woman who'd fallen in the street and he came over to help as well. You had no idea who he was at the time and it wasn't until your second time meeting that you realised he was an idol

But by then you'd already fallen for him and not because he was some famous popstar...Which Seungmin loved. He'd adored the fact that you treated him like an actual human instead of just someone who was famous. The two of you hung out a lot.

To the point where the lines blurred between friendship and dating and it was hard to determine if you were a couple or just friends. That was until his birthday when you'd seen dating rumours of him seeing someone else, someone he hadn't told you about and you felt your whole world crumble.

You'd not seen him since, despite having made him a hand knitted scarf for the winter, wanting him to have something handmade from you and something to keep him cosy.

"Hana-"

"Don't say my name like you're giving up on everything. Seungmin would never do something to hurt you." She tells you but you shake your head. It wasn't as if you were a couple, if he was seeing other people it was okay.

"It's in the past." You whisper a little trying to get off the subject now but she scoffs,

"That scarf you made for him says otherwise. You carry it around like it's a security blanket," Your breath catches in your throat, and you freeze, hoping no one else heard that. The scarf was always in your bag, she was right it was like a security blanket. You glance around the empty station trying to make sure no one heard you both, but your heart skips a beat when you realize you're not as alone as you thought you were. Footsteps approach from behind, too quiet to be anyone else but someone familiar.

You don’t dare turn around.

“What scarf?” a voice asks. That voice. The one you've been thinking about every single day for weeks now. The same voice that made your heart skip a beat whenever you heard it and your whole body erupt in goosebumps.

Seungmin.

Hana’s eyes widen in surprise, her hand flying up to her mouth as she stifles a laugh and you already knew she had something to do with him being down here.

“Oops,” she whispers to you, before straightening up with a smile, completely unbothered by the tension hanging in the air.

"Oh, this scarf that Yn made—"

"Stop!" You interject, your voice too loud, too hurried as you put your hand over her mouth to stop her from revealing anything else to him. You feel the heat rise to your face as Seungmin’s gaze locks onto yours, amusement and curiosity flickering in his eyes. His lips quirked up into a small smile, his expression soft but focused on you.

“You made a scarf?” Your throat goes dry, and you can’t think of a single reasonable response. The scarf. You had made it for him a month ago, back when things between you two felt simpler when your heart didn’t ache every time you heard his name. You had never given it to him, too scared of what it might imply — too scared of how much you cared.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, looking like he actually wants to know the answer.

“I—” you start, but your voice falters, you don't know where to begin or what to say. Was saying something too much? Was it weird that you made him it? Your eyes dart to Hana for support, but she’s clearly enjoying this too much to help.

"It’s nothing," you manage to say, barely above a whisper.

"Just something I made f-for you a while ago." Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his brows furrowing as if he's trying to piece something together. He takes a step closer, and suddenly the room feels smaller, the space between the two of you charged with unresolved emotions.

"For me?"

"Yeah, it's just- and I- and you- and then-" You stumbled over everything and it made Seungmin smile to see you so flustered in front of him. All of the other times you'd been so calm and collected around him, it was nice to see this side for once.

Without a word, Hana slipped silently out of the room leaving the two of you together as he smiled at you,

“Well, I’d like to see it sometime,” he says softly, his voice gentle, almost teasing. You swallow hard, unable to form a response as his eyes linger on yours for a moment longer

"Seungmin-"

"Please? It's been so long since I saw you and I missed you on my birthday." He admits shyly as he sits down on the nurse's bed and watches you closely.

God, it had been so long since you'd seen him and you'd missed him too but hearing him say it to you had your heart racing and your stomach twisting.

"It's...It's nothing, it's just a scarf." You stumble a little on your words as you reach down and grab your bag, pulling out the scarf you'd spent weeks making for him. Seungmins eyes lit up as he saw it,

"You made this?"

"Yeah..yeah, it was, well it's your favourite colours." you smile warmly as he takes the fabric from your hands, your fingers brushing against one another sending a wave of electricity running through you but it was nothing compared to seeing him wear the scarf around him

"I love it," He admits as you feel your heart leap into your throat and he smiles at you, a small blush on his cheeks.

"You don't have to lie, it's nothing special and I know you're with someone else," You whispered but he took your hand in his, running his other across your face and smiling sweetly as you leaned into his touch.

"There's no one else, there's never been anyone but you, Yn." He smiles as your eyes meet his, your heart practically racing and handing itself over to him.

"The first time I saw you I count as day one of our eternity together." With that he kisses you softly, your breath catching in your throat as you kiss him back gently wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you.

"I'll pick you up after work," He smiled as he leant his forehead against yours as you giggle a little,

"Sure-"

"We're going on a date too, okay? Because I'm yours and I don't want any doubts in that pretty little head of yours." He smirks before kissing you once again.

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Canonical character death; Vomiting; Sexual themes.

A/N: It hasn’t taken me this long to write a chapter for this since I started it. And once again, I’m disappointed in the quality. I hope it’s received well enough. :/ And try not to maim me over the ending. I’m hoping it will inspire me to be a bit faster with updates. 😅

It had taken you a while to calm down. Hours later, you were under the sheets and lying with your back toward the door. People came and went, offering food and medication and water. You accepted all with silence, only for the sake of your baby. The little one needed the food and water and you needed the medication to help you keep it down. Carol informed you that she and Lori had taken care of Daryl. Had they murdered him? 

The sun had set and cloaked your room in shadow by the time you opened your eyes again. You didn't even remember falling asleep. What had woken you? Hands rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you sat up. There was a curious light outside the window. It was as if you had been denied the audio from a feature film but suddenly pressed the button to unmute. 

Screams, gunfire, cars, motorcycle. What the hell is happening?! Your fingers brushed the top of your boots when the bedroom door swung open. Lori appeared wild, frightened to a degree you had never witnessed in her before.

“Carl!? Y/N, have you seen Carl?!” 

“No, I’m sorry. Lori, what—” But she was gone. Now the panic was setting in, your chest tightening for the second time that day. Where was Daryl? What was going on? 

“Patricia! Beth! Y/N! We have to go!” Carol’s voice was an unfamiliar tone, the quiet woman infused with a tension and fear in the call of each name. You stepped into your boots and jogged down the stairs just as Patricia and Beth stepped out onto the porch. Carol was reaching for you before you even noticed her. 

“What’s happening?!” You were breathless with worry and confusion.  

“The farm isn’t safe. We have to go!” The woman urged, her hand wrapping around your wrist. Beth was crying, Lori was panicked. The sight that greeted you was overwhelming. Walkers everywhere. The barn burning. Gunshots from cars circling the herd. 

“Carol.” You whimpered. You had no weapon, watching Lori bolt with a bag. “Do we have any guns?” 

“No time to find one! Go!” 

The four of you sprinted off the porch, the herd closing in, forcing you in different directions. You weren’t sure how you ended up so far into the field, running blindly in the dark, the only light coming from the unsteady flames devouring the barn. You didn’t stop running, the dead closing in from all sides. 

You nearly stumbled into the desperate clutches of a woman, teeth snapping at you before she could get a good hold. You pushed her, stumbling backward into the chest of a man, his rotting mouth snapped by your head, nearly taking your ear. You couldn’t help but scream. You’d never make it to the forest. There, you could easily utilize the safety nature provided. However, the amount of dead that blocked your path made it impossible. 

With the fence at your back, the road just beyond it, you glanced over your shoulder. You could hop the structure easily but more dead waited on the other side. Your mind was still scrambling for a resolution when you heard the familiar rumble and crunch of gravel beneath rubber. 

Daryl was there, calling your name. You cleared the fence and ran to him, legs burning and breaths unreliable. 

“C’mon! I ain’t got all day!” He was standing over the front edge of the seat so you could easily mount the bike behind him. Once both of you were seated, you wrapped your arms around his middle and buried your face into his back. 

“Go! Go!” Your shout was muffled against the leather vest but he heard you and soon you were moving, the wind carrying the smell of blood and smoke. You burrowed further against him, taking in his scent instead. Leather and pine, his natural musk, a hint of tobacco. You focused on it while he dodged walkers, the snarling growls and moans too close as you felt him slow and start to weave. 

“Not so tight.” His warm hand patted yours and disappeared just as quickly. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. You pulled your hands back to rest on his sides, lightly curling your fingers into his vest. Any noise aside from the motorcycle began to fade as the wind picked up. You were going faster. Still, you didn’t let go, didn’t look up. You’d barely made it out. If Daryl hadn’t been there—

He was slowing again, to a crawl and eventually, a stop. When he cut the engine and began to move away, you could feel him taking your breath along behind him. You were clumsy bringing your leg over the seat, nearly toppling face first onto the gravel road. 

“Why—Daryl, why are we stopping?! We can’t be here! It’s not safe, Daryl!” You knew you looked like a wild animal, eyes wide and frantic, your hands protectively curled around your middle. “Daryl—Daryl, we—”

“Easy.” How long had he been standing that close? Your gaze focused on him, but you still couldn’t seem to catch your breath. 

Red. 

“Daddy!”

“I love you, Peanut.”

“Hey, we’re good.” His palms were warm against your face, blue eyes swimming with concern. He was trying to bring you out of the darkness you had wandered into, scared and vulnerable. “Gotta breathe, Y/N. C’mon, girl.” You hadn’t realized your own hands were grasping at his shoulders until he was releasing your face to gently pry them off. “Doin’ better. Can’t stay here long but ya can’t ride like this.” He lowered your hands to your lap and placed his palm back against your cheek. 

You ducked your head and swallowed back the bile inching up your throat, realization striking you like a freight train. “Oh god, I left the meds! All of Hershel’s supplies! Daryl, the baby—”

“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to either’a ya. Ya hear me?” The conviction in those eyes, the determination. He meant it. You hiccupped and nodded, the deep breath you finally willed yourself to take stuttering. “Are ya hurt? Bit?” You shook your head with more enthusiasm than necessary. “Need to getcha somewhere safe, try an’ find the others.”

He was still standing close to you and watched as you wiped your face, looking away when you tried to meet his eyes. You allowed your arms to fall back toward your lap, your right one hitting his foreman on the way down. His palm was on your belly. You hadn’t noticed he’d placed it there when he had moved your hands. Bringing attention to it was likely to embarrass or upset him. A repeat of the events from earlier was not something you could handle. 

“What if we’re the only ones?” You asked when his hand moved to run through his hair. He jutted his chin forward, wordlessly requesting you move so he could again straddle the bike. There was no hesitation, he stood with his boots on the ground to let you seat yourself behind him. 

“We ain’t.” 

“But if we are?” 

He didn’t look at you, but was still for a moment. You watched his fingers flex around the handlebars. 

“Then s’just the three’a us.”

You were careful to not squeeze too tightly this time when you wrapped your arms around his stomach. 

You gave a weak smile to Carl as you climbed off the bike. To your absolute shock, after the embrace with his mother and father, he hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re okay.” You plucked his hat off, ruffled his hair, and sat the giant thing back down. He beamed up at you and then continued on his journey of relieved greetings. You spotted Daryl watching you and shrugged. Sometimes you thought Carl didn’t even realize you were around. There were few words spoken between you and the kid, even though you did talk quite a bit with Lori. 

You’d slept so much the day before but you found yourself exhausted, feeling slightly nauseous. You’d told Daryl about the medication. Had he mentioned it during the discussion of where to go next? Leaning against the bike, you watched him rationalize with the others on a plan.  

He seemed calmer around everyone, not so eager to gain distance. He glanced back at you now and again, looking away when he realized you were still watching him. You couldn’t seem to find it within you to be embarrassed. Maybe you could blame exhaustion or pregnancy. 

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You stood up straight only to find everyone looking at you now. Did Daryl just smirk at you? “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“We just wanted to get your opinion.” Carol smiled, small and tired, but knowing. Everyone probably saw you gawking at your baby daddy. 

“Whatever Daryl says is fine by me.” The implications of your statement were lost on you until the second the last syllable crossed over your lips. Even the archer had the decency to look surprised. Now you were embarrassed. An oil stain on the pavement became ever so interesting when you needed to look away. Your gaze remained there for the rest of the conversation. 

Daryl offered to find Andrea but was quickly shot down by Rick, saving you the trouble. Once T-Dog suggested east, Daryl agreed that main roads should be avoided. He walked by you to grab the crossbow from the back of the bike and quickly took down a walker before strapping the weapon back in place. 

“Watch out.” The hunter carefully nudged you aside and climbed onto the bike. 

“Want me to ride with some of them?” You pulled your flannel tighter and hugged yourself against the chill. You were definitely not dressed for the weather. 

“Nah, you’re with me.” He replied from around his thumbnail. He was eyeing your attire, knowing for certain you weren’t dressed for how cold the nights would get. You knew it too. He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the baby. That meant finding medication and clothing. “Don’t care what we’re doin’ or where we are, if we’re both there, you’re with me ‘less I say otherwise. Understood?”

“Okay.” You acquiesced with a nod and climbed on, grateful for the natural heat of the archer’s body. You would have sighed if it wouldn’t just raise other questions. When the bike began moving, you continued to keep your hold loose but buried your face again, not only shielding your skin from the cold air but also effectively hiding the small smile you wore. 

Daryl pulled the bike off at Rick’s signal, asking if he was out of gas. Your hold on him remained until he patted your interlocked fingers and waved for you to climb off. You tried to keep your teeth from chattering while everyone talked—argued, really—about staying or going. 

Rick had killed Shane. The deputy hadn’t been very forthcoming with the details but your lack of interest regarding the man’s death told you exactly where you stood. You were never a fan.

“Look, I don’t care who goes today or tomorrow, but m’goin’ cause Y/N needs that medicine.” 

“I can go with you.” You offered, following Daryl toward the selected camp area. When he stopped, you nearly collided with his back. He turned without looking at you, not at first. When he did, his expression was stern. The hand he brought up to grasp your chin was quite the opposite. 

“Remember what I said? You’re with me ‘less I say otherwise.” You nodded. “This one’s otherwise. Need ya to stay here tomorrow. You’re gonna be sick by then, I reckon. Distracted. Need ya safe.”

You kept your gaze locked with his. “Okay.” You conceded easily, almost smiling at the naked relief in his eyes. “Would—would you get me a jacket? Maybe some—some maternity clothes?”

The archer scrunched his nose, releasing his hold on you. “Tell Maggie ‘bout the clothes. I’ll find ya the meds an’ a jacket.” He turned away, but you called his name before he could make it far. You weren’t sure he’d accept the contact after yesterday’s fiasco, but you placed your arms around his neck, your face tucked against his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He hummed and nodded in response, quick to end the embrace and disappear past the treeline. He was likely gathering firewood. He wouldn’t be hunting. He was too adamant about you staying with him to go far. 

The archer was shaken by the events of the previous night, whether or not he cared to admit it. Maybe not the walkers or the loss of the farm; maybe not even the deaths. He was worried for you and his baby. It shone clear in the way he looked at you, the way he wanted to keep you close. The unwanted but familiar insecurities came creeping in, compounding on top of your already unsettled stomach. Was he just looking out for the baby?

“Maggie?” Your voice came out quiet and unsteady but you still managed to snag her attention. “Daryl said you’re going tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She stepped away from Glenn with a lingering touch on his arm, making sure he knew she was still there. “Don’t worry. I know what medications you need and we’ll find them. We’ll find something.”

You nodded without meeting her eyes. “Thank you but he told me to ask you about clothes. These,” you pulled at your t-shirt beneath the flannel, “won’t be warm enough. And I’ll get—bigger.” You made an awkward gesture around your abdomen with both hands. 

“You’re glowing, you know.” The look on your face must have been reason enough for her to giggle and place a hand on your bicep, squeezing ever so gently. “Pregnancy suits you. Don’t worry. I’ll find you some clothes. Shoes too, cause your feet are gonna swell. You’ll thank me later.”

“My feet?” You squeaked, looking down at your boots. “Thumper, be nice to mommy’s feet. I need those.”

You weren’t feeling well at all by the time the sun began to dip below the horizon. The night air was cold, even with your proximity to the fire Daryl continued to feed. Your stomach was a rolling mess of knots. You managed some water but even that threatened to make a reappearance. 

Daryl hadn’t hunted. He wouldn’t leave you behind, especially when you started feeling unwell. The group had not been happy, offering to sit with you and to not let you out of their sight. It wasn’t good enough for him. He knew anything he managed to bring back would be of no benefit to you. 

When you tried to send him off, he pinned you with the same look he’d given you at the farm before he had turned away and yelled for you to leave. You raised your hands in defeat and walked away.  

Now, a few hours later, you were glad he hadn’t left. Even with all the people around you, there was a suffocating tension around that campsite. Had you been left under their guard, you likely would have ended up in the middle of the venomous arguments and snarky jabs. You just didn’t have the energy. 

You were a silent spectator during Daryl’s conversation with Carol, his defense of Rick. The man in question came around the wall that sheltered the group, tense words once again shared. You couldn’t take part, couldn’t even begin to grasp what was being shared, crawling to a spot at the perimeter to empty the liquid contents of your stomach. The heaving was painful and left you gasping and spitting with a hand clutching the shirt over your belly, as if protecting the life inside you from your own body’s revolt. 

“Y’alright?” Daryl drawled from somewhere beside you. You nodded slowly, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. The added stress seemed to have taken its toll. You somehow made it upright to your knees, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. One look at the archer’s face made it evident that he wasn’t buying it. “Let’s getcha settled for the night.” It wasn’t a question in need of answering. It wasn’t even a suggestion. 

“I’m not sure I can walk that far.” The longing for the warmth of the fire was substantial but not enough for you to even try to send the signals for your legs to cooperate. 

“Didn’t ask ya to.” Had you felt a little more human, you might have wallowed in the indignation of him gathering you up to relieve you of the bothersome, albeit short, walk to the fireside. You were deposited slightly closer than when you’d taken a seat on your own. The warmth was intense and welcome but still not enough to battle the cold that had taken root within your bones. 

“Thanks.” You muttered through a deep sigh. The group was now sitting in relative silence, all but Carl still awake. Your own eyes were heavy within moments. You chose to submit to it and laid over on your side. The ground was freezing but what could you do? It hardly mattered anyway, as your eyes closed and you drifted off almost immediately. 

You awoke with a deep breath that morphed into a yawn. It appeared everyone was asleep with the exception of Glenn and Maggie up on the wall. It was pleasantly warm, just the slightest bit of cold seeping in here and there. Maybe you could just coax your mind back into slumber. Stretching a leg to seek out a more comfortable position, you realized something was keeping you from moving. 

“Be still, woman. Jesus.” 

You froze, briefly holding your breath. Daryl was lying beside you with his back pressed against yours, acting as your own personal space heater. There was a part of you—a rather large part that you’d like to punch in the throat—that wanted to roll over and curl into the man. He was warm. You already knew he ran hot, you’d been pressed against him in more pleasurable ways than this. 

Violently beating down the urge to spoon with the archer, you cleared your throat, knowing your voice would be rough from sleep and vomiting. “Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothin’. You were cold, saw ya shiverin’.” He shifted slightly. “Gotta take watch soon. Ya gonna be alright?” 

You nodded with a quiet mhm already missing his warmth though he had yet to move. You would be fine, of course. Nauseous with a headache the size of Montana but not dying. That qualified as alright, right? 

You let your eyes close, too exhausted to sleep any longer but the feeling of warmth and safety was enough for you to at least relax. All too soon, the cold air struck against your back, coaxing a quiet whine from your throat. Rolling to your back, your bottom lip jutted out into the most exaggerated pout you could possibly achieve. 

Daryl looked down as he strapped his crossbow onto his back. He snorted. Mission accomplished. 

Almost. 

“Can I go with you?” You sat up, scratching your lower belly. Damn, it had itched lately. Maybe you should ask for some lotion too. You could see the exact moment when automatic refusal died on his lips, his eyes flitting down to where your fingers grazed lightly over your abdomen. 

“Well, c’mon then.” Daryl needlessly adjusted the strap of the weapon, running his thumb over his bottom lip while he waited. The beaming smile you gave him spread across your face before you even gave it permission. You didn’t even ask before grabbing his arm to pull yourself up. He huffed but you caught the one corner of his mouth lifting before he looked away. 

“Lead the way, my good man.” You waved your arm forward and stepped aside so you could fall in behind him. He was shaking his head with a huff of air through his nose that really could have been a laugh. 

“Your good man, huh?”

You stumbled within the first three steps, his words catching you off guard. His large hand easily caught your upper arm, keeping you on your feet. You scowled in the face of his smirk. “I never liked you.” You jested with a light punch to his shoulder. 

Smirk still in place, he nodded toward your belly. “Ya liked me well ‘nough at one point.” You had no comeback, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. He gently squeezed your arm before letting go, walking away like he hadn’t just taken the upper hand and used it to drop the mic. 

Face scrunched, you fought back a smile before the battle was no longer necessary. Your eyes traveled from his shoulders, down his back, lingering on his ass before continuing the journey to his boots and back up again. Images of your first few encounters slammed into the forefront of your mind. You gasped quietly, the memories so vivid that you could almost feel him deep inside of you. Remembering how he grunted and panted, his large hands exploring every inch of you. 

“Gonna check the perimeter. You two good for now?” Daryl called up to the couple on the wall, snapping you out of your reverie. You paused behind him while the exchange took place, rubbing your thighs together to at least try and stifle the throbbing ache in your core. 

What the fuck,Y/N?! Get a grip! You followed on autopilot when he set off again, your mind racing. You were suddenly hot, nearly sweating; your mouth went dry. That damned throb at the apex of your thighs just would not relent. How could you go from sick and sleepy to depraved and horny? Oh, yeah. Pregnancy. 

“Stop lollygaggin’ an’ keep up.” Daryl snapped, thankfully not looking back at you. You could feel your skin heating, knew he’d find it flushed. A sense of shame attempted to overwhelm your sudden desire. You were ogling the archer like a piece of meat dangled over a lions’ den. “What’re ya starin’ at?” He asked absentmindedly, removing his crossbow to carry it at his side. 

“Nothing.” You replied a little too quickly, your voice low and breathy. That got his attention. He came to an abrupt halt and turned to eye you suspiciously. 

“Ya okay?”

You took a step back in tandem with his step forward, nodding vigorously even as your chest heaved. His head was tilted, eyes narrowed, looking as if he was solving a particularly complicated mathematical equation. 

“Ya sure?”

“Mhm!” Too enthusiastic, not very convincing. “I think,” you were nearly fucking panting as your back pressed against an inconveniently placed tree, “I’ll just head back.” You rolled against the bark to face the trail toward camp and your chest promptly collided with his arm when he blocked your exit. 

“Nuh-uh.” Daryl ducked his head, trying to catch your eye. “S’wrong with ya?” You didn’t answer; couldn’t really, what with trying to calm the lust flowing through your veins like molten lava. The taste of blood filled your mouth, the sting of your teeth piercing your lip was a welcome distraction. “Y/N.”

Stop talking. Stop looking at me. Where was this coming from? You had appreciated his handsome features and physical attributes plenty of times without the burning need to feel him pounding into you. Your eyes snapped toward him when the same hand that had met the tree to block you came to rest against your forehead. 

“You’re warm. Fever?”

“No.” Your voice trembled even more so than your body. You pushed his hand away as gently as you could manage, trying again to walk away. “I need to go back.” Fingers wrapped around your wrist. 

“Nah, not alone. I’ll ta—”

Your mouth was on his so fast that he staggered back. You heard his crossbow hit the ground, felt his muscles tense. He didn’t react for a moment that seemed to last forever but when he did, it wasn’t what you were hoping for, what your body was craving. You whined heatedly, attempting to pull him back to you by tugging his vest. 

“Th’fuck, woman?” Daryl didn’t sound angry. Far from it. He sounded confused. And unfortunately for you, the ache between your legs had chased away any semblance of dignity you might have once had. “You’re sick, exhausted. What the hell?”

“I need—” You whined, rubbing your thighs together while your hands pulled at his clothes. He wasn’t trying to stop you. He wasn’t doing much of anything actually. Just studying you with that stoic expression while you were about to all but beg him to fuck you senseless. “Daryl, I need—”

“Tell me whatcha need.” His tone was soft, like he was genuinely trying to understand.  

“You.” Your eyes were shining, wide and wet. “I don’t know—it just—I was fine and then—”

“S’hormones.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture delicate. You wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time. 

“Damn you and your book.” You growled. You weren’t really sure what you were expected to do now, what you expected him to do. You were friends. It wasn’t like he’d just acquiesce and fuck you sideways. When he walked away, you thought you might curl up on the ground and cry. Since when did desire become borderline painful?

A deep breath did little to aid you. Maybe you could slink off into a corner at camp and take care of things yourself. It would be awkward and you could get cau—

“C’mere.” 

You blinked at him while still trying to get your breaths under control. His crossbow was leaning against a different tree now. He was standing in front of it, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip again. You approached hesitantly, hands wringing the front of your shirt. 

“Daryl?”

Once you were within reach, he grabbed the edge of your flannel and pulled you forward, spinning you just before your body met his. Your back against his chest, you could feel him breathing on your neck, a fresh wave of arousal seeping from your core. You were sure your pajama pants were soaked at this point. 

“Daryl, are you—”

He shushed you against your ear, allowing the lightest brush of his skin over yours. “See that?” He wrapped one strong arm around you with his palm resting on your belly, the other hand lifting to point low to the ground behind where you had previously stood. “Perimeter line. Cans an’ shit to make noise.” His stubbled cheek rubbed against your neck. “One behind us too. Anythin’ or anyone comes through, we’ll hear ‘em.”

“Okay?” You shivered when you heard him inhale against your hair, taking in your scent. You nearly came from the thought of him enjoying the way you smelled. Then again, even with your sensitive senses, you found his scent calming. 

The hand over your stomach pressed just the slightest bit harder while his other hand slid up your side to cover your breast. The ache when he squeezed brought a moan out of you so quickly that he flinched behind you before chuckling. No longer wearing a bra until you could one that fit, he could feel your nipple harden, immediately shifting his hand so he could pinch the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Ya sure s’me ya want takin’ care’a this for ya?” On the surface, he seemed ready and confident, already having knowledge of your body. His voice though, it was the most fragile, tiniest uncertainty filtering through. 

“Please.” You whined, feeling the evidence of his desire now pressing against your ass. 

“Say it then.” Daryl nipped at your pulse and soothed the skin with his lips and tongue. “Tell me ya want me.” 

You wanted him to keep talking, whispering against your skin in that gravelly rasp that was making your pussy clench and ache. Then again, you wanted him to shut the fuck up and get on with it already before you spontaneously combusted. 

“I want you. I need you, please.” Your body was so alive with need that you’d beg on your hands and knees if he asked. You groaned when he chuckled again, this time right against your ear. It wasn’t very long ago that you were shivering in front of a fire. Now you shivered while your skin burned for a completely different reason. Funny how that worked. 

“S’bout damn time.”

[asunflowerana]

Salmon - Inumaki Toge

summary: you always wanted to meet your soulmate; you just didn't thought he would have to save your life along the way.

warnings: soulmate!au, comedy, curse appearance (nothing frightening), and some good old fluff.

“Finish your soup, _____, you don't want to faint in front of your soulmate.” Says your grandmother, trying to persuade you to eat another portion of her still-warm pumpkin with ginger soup.

She’s been using this tactic since you were four, and to her delight, sooner or later you’d end up lifting your spoon and serving your empty bowl again. You can’t help your heart’s greatest desire, yearning for the day you’ll finally find the person who, according to other people’s experiences, will brighten up your whole world.

It sounds almost like something out of a fairytale, your destiny tied to someone especially made it to love you. To be honest, you wouldn’t believe it if it weren’t for the bold letters embedded on your wrist since the beginning of your life. The “soulmate brand”, as your grandmother once explained — the literal first words your soulmate will say to you. Each person has it somewhere on their skin, and nothing, absolutely nothing, can erase it, as the mark is part of your entire being as much as your beating heart is. 

“Will you grant me this dance? ” is your grandma’s brand, the first words your grandfather said to her after gazing for a long time at the prettiest woman he has ever seen around the neighborhood festivals.

And the brands are varied, but they usually make sense for a first meeting, from simple “Hi” and “Excuse me”s, to “Would you like some coffee?”. Well, most of them are understandable, but there are some not-very-funny cases, like yours, that they’re completely senseless.

“Salmon” hides under the long sleeve of your shirt. 

What does “salmon” have to do with all this? Why not something simpler, like a “nice to meet you”?

You’ve created so many theories over time, trying to find a logical scenario where this would be a first-thing sentence. Maybe your future partner is a cook, and he’ll prepare you a Baked Salmon; or maybe he’s a fisherman, trying to sell you one of his late products; or maybe, you’ll work as a waitress at a seafood restaurant, and he’ll just order the best fish of the restaurant. Sometimes you laugh at yourself, just imagining one of these scenes actually happening.

You know that finding soulmates takes time, but if you could only get a hint. Almost all of your friends already found their partners, so why haven’t you? You sincerely don’t care about appearance, or culture, you just want to meet your “universe’s best gift” and understand why the heck his first words to you is a marine fish.

Months pass by, and still, nothing comes your way. You can count on hope, and move forward with your life.

As you finish your second bowl of soup, you wish your grandma a good day and pack your purse to head off to the library two blocks away. The historic building is the best place to spend your autumn afternoons, sitting on a comfy armchair with a book in hand and a tasty hot chocolate along the way. However, your oasis received an interesting addition in the past weeks: something, or rather, someone, has been catching your attention. You don’t know the new customer’s name, but from what you’ve observed (stared, to be frank), he enjoys a lot of mythical books, and prefers to sit alone at a table. 

You know you shouldn't be spending time trying to take note of someone else’s life, but there’s something about him that attracts your mind and takes your eye's attention off the book. It could be the fact that he always wears his coat’s collar up to his mouth, his intriguing grayish hair, or the shape of his beautiful purple eyes that perfectly match his face. 

Okay, maybe you’re noticing too much. 

Sometimes you catch yourself daydreaming about a date with him. He seems like someone polite, even if you never heard him speak. But you don’t have the courage to start a conversation with him, he’s just so… focused on his reading, you wouldn't want to intrude. And besides, a guy like him probably has a girlfriend already.

You return to your previous reading, and by the middle of the sunset, you leave for your house. Grandma said she was going to the supermarket early, so you weren’t surprised to find the place empty when you entered.

But you were surprised when you spotted a finger on the dinner table.

As an instinct, you grab the white porcelain vase from the shelf near the doorway and use it as a protection, your gaze scanning every spot of the living room, and every room of the house. You frown, not finding anything broken or messed up, and the windows are all closed. How did a human finger get on the dinner table then? As far as you know, your grandmother only collects shells.

You type 911 on your phone, anxious by the whole creepy situation, eyes, and ears alert to any signal. While the call is on hold, you approach the table to inspect the unknown finger: It isn’t fresh or dripping with blood, but it strangely looks well-preserved, not marks of degradation. A wave of shivers runs through your body.

“What’s your emergency?” A female voice says through the call.

“Hi, I-”

In one second, your body is thrown hard against the wall by an incomprehensible force. The hit is all your senses can figure out, the sudden pain increasing on your right side while potent dizziness takes over your brain. Fallen on the wooden floor, you take the last of the strength that remains in your muscles to look for what hurt you.

You immediately wish you didn’t make that decision, for you wouldn’t face the haunting creature staring in your direction. A monstrous black shape slowly approaches you, a mouth full of sharpened teeth, and a single lifeless white eye glazed at your form. It mumbles unfamiliar words as it levitates above the floor, a horrid sound that makes you tremble in pure panic.

Is this how you’re gonna die?

Suddenly, you hear the sound of the window breaking into dozens of glass shards, caused by a human form that lands inside your house. You swear, from a quick glimpse, that is the library man five feet away from you, but maybe you’re too dizzy to actually see right. Scared, your eyelids close, and you can only hear the sounds of furniture falling and the creature’s terrifying shrieks. It’s a vivid nightmare, one that you can’t wake up from, but that fortunately ends.

You only open your eyes when you feel two warm, human hands gently holding your shoulders, filling you with the hope that the creature it’s gone. Your gaze widens at the face of your savior.

“It’s you.” You whisper, and unknowingly to you, your sentence is exactly the same words embedded in Inumaki’s wrist. His eyes widen as he realizes it, being able to contemplate the unnatural glow that comes out of your being, the glow that only soulmates can find. 

He found his soulmate.

“Salmon.”

And so did you.

a/n: not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite creation so far. hope enjoy it and giggle with it as much as I did.

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[gothicknightz]

family ties | ethan landry

notes: oh boy you guys are gonna like this one. VERY MAJOR SCREAM SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!! I cannot get any more specific than that.

part 2 out now!

When she moved to New York with her best friend, they both had planned on getting an average college education, having fun, and graduating. 

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

The four of them were stranded in the abandoned lobby of the theatre when Sam had gotten a call from the Detective, claiming that he had done some digging into Kirby and that she was let go from the FBI a couple of months ago for being mentally unstable, and he believes she is the killer.

She quickly turned her attention towards Sam, “What?” She snapped, her arm still wrapped up from her paired attack alongside Mindy on the subway. 

Putting a foot down, she crossed her arms, “There’s no way we can stay here.” Attempted to try the entrance in which they came in, to find out it was locked, “Shit.” She turned around quickly to face the, “It’s locked.”

The group frantically looked for a way out of the theatre, as they weren’t going to be trapped with the possible killers. Tara had noticed some sort of fire escape, but that wasn’t until Ghostface appeared and attacked the group, which they fought back. 

Chad decided it was a good time to be a hero, as he fought against Ghostface so that the girls could run. This proved to be a bad decision for him, as a second Ghostface came up and started stabbing alongside the other before ushering the trio back into the theatre.

As the five of them make their way back into the theatre, Kirby suddenly reappears out of nowhere and claims that she was knocked out by two Ghostfaces, but the trio can’t trust her after the Detective’s claims, who arrives subsequently after Kirby.

After what seemed to be a battle for trust, the Detective shoots Kirby, revealing himself as the third killer.

(y/n) screams as she was the closest, her heart racing in anticipation, afraid of what was going to happen next when the other two Ghostfaces de-mask themselves. Subsequently, after the Detective reveals himself to be the third killer, the Ghostface wearing Nancy Loomis’ mask revealed himself.

It was Ethan, (y/n)’s best friend. The friend she had planned on getting a college education and graduating with. The friend she had known for years, the friend who was responsible for their firsts.

Somebody she had trusted.

It was then revealed that Quinn was the final Ghostface, much to everyone’s shock, as they had seen and heard of the brutal murder Quinn had endowed.

The trio was cornered at each end by the three killers, with Sam slowly connecting the pieces that all three of the killers were related to none other than Richie Kirsch, one of the killers of the Woodboro Massacre in 2022.

As the trio was attacked and coerced back to the center of the theatre by the killers, the Detective sighed, “It wasn’t until I saw that photograph of what you had actually done to him, that I knew.”

“That I knew you had to fucking die- that you had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Pushed and insulted by Quinn, Sam, and Tara were forced to stand in front of the Detective, with Ethan taking hold of (y/n), and holding a knife to her throat.

As the Detective went on about how he indulged in his son’s love for the Stab movies, and how they were a bit dark for him, he explained that there was no deeper bond than of a father and his firstborn.

“Despite the loss of Richie, I couldn’t have been happier after learning of a new addition to our family.”

The look on both the sisters’ faces was beyond puzzled as they watched the detective make grandiose gestures as he waved the gun in (y/n)’s direction.

“I knew it was a bit young for those two to get hitched, but,” the Detective paused, taking a breath for a brief smile, “She made it a lot easier to get us in here, and I’ve never been more proud of a future daughter in law, right (y/n)?”

The Carpenter sisters had another round of fear and shock as they turned their heads to one of the closest friends the gang had had, with even Mindy trusting them.

(y/n) was breaking away from a kiss with Ethan as Tara and Sam watched them in awe, the girl breaking into a fit of giggles and a content sigh.

“You know, Sam,” She said, turning towards the illegitimate daughter of the original Ghostface with her boyfriend slash fiance’s knife in hand, “You should really save the date.” She took a swing at the eldest Carpenter sister and laughed.

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

[steelbonded]

Forced Integration (2)

Stewart lay helplessly on the street, pinned down by the boots of four officers from the New Republic. The soft rumble of an engine broke the early morning silence, growing louder until it screeched to a halt at Stewart’s position. It was a military truck, still in its original olive-green color but with the flag of the New Republic hastily stickered over the flag of the country Stewart had pledged his allegiance to. He used to drive these trucks in and out of the base, but this time, he knew he would be transported into the base and would never leave.

The ignition was turned off, and a soldier, garmented in the standard jet-black uniform of the Steelbound Republic, stepped out of the vehicle and saluted the lieutenant in charge of the operation.

“Private AO 9323 reporting, sir! The truck to transport the deserter back to base for re-education, sir!”

“Very well,” said the lieutenant. “Prep the pest for transport.”

Stewart felt two boots release from his knee and neck. With precise coordination, the two officers stood beside him, their rifles pointed directly at Stewart to ensure any questionable movement would be met with lead.

“Secured,” one of them reported.

The third officer released his boot and proceeded to secure Stewart’s hands behind his back with zip ties. Finally, the last boot pinning him down was released, and the two officers grabbed his shoulders and roughly pulled him to his feet, their grip on his arms firm and unyielding. Stewart winced in pain as he was forced to stand, his legs shaky from exhaustion. He glanced around, his eyes finally able to see his captors clearly for the first time.

His captors exuded an aura of menace and authority, their jet-black uniforms accentuating their muscular frames. Every piece of their gear was meticulously maintained, from the advanced helmets with reflective visors that obscured their eyes to the tactical vests bristling with ammunition and weapons. Their sleek, blackened body armor added to their intimidating presence, giving them an almost robotic appearance. Each one of them was nearly identical, except for their numbered name tags.

Their faces were partially hidden by black balaclava, with only their cold, calculating eyes visible, staring down at Stewart. These eyes, devoid of empathy, were all that remained of their humanity. The soldiers' postures were rigid and controlled, every movement deliberate, as if they had been trained for years to perfection. They exuded an air of ruthlessness, ready to follow orders without question, no matter how brutal.

Stewart kept staring at one of the officers, DF 9203. His eyes looked like those of someone he knew in his previous life. The distinctive scar on the top left corner of his eyelid could not conceal his true identity, even underneath the balaclava. It was Sergeant Fischer, his officer before the fall of his nation. Only his voice would serve as confirmation of his former identity. How could he betray his country and serve in the enemy’s forces?

A forceful hit to his back by the butt of a gun from DF 9203 snapped Stewart back to reality. “What the fuck are you looking at, pest?” he barked, his voice carrying the same unremarkable low octave pitch as the lieutenant's. Stewart couldn’t be sure if it was Sergeant Fischer.

“Sorry, sergeant,” Stewart accidentally blurted out.

Another blow to his back followed. “Respect fucken authority, maggot. I am a fucken sergeant, and you are a piece of uneducated pest. Speak only when spoken to.”

“Be fucken grateful the Republic is offering you a second chance,” barked another officer with a similar voice.

“Gentlemen!” came a voice from the other end. It was the lieutenant, and all the officers stood at attention. “He hasn’t seen our ways yet. He will soon be an unwavering defender of the Republic like yourselves, gentlemen.” He made a faint smile toward Stewart. “Order has been established, gents.”

The military truck rumbled back to life, its engine settling into a menacing growl. The back of the truck was open, revealing a steel cage-like structure. Stewart was pushed forward, stumbling slightly as the officers guided him toward the truck.

“DF 9203 and NC 9326, secure the asset back to base.”

“Yes, sir,” both replied immediately.

With that, the cage door was closed, and the truck began to move. Stewart’s fate was sealed as he was sent back to the base for re-education.

[feederheart]

I had caught her.

This was the third time she had shown up this month and this time, I didn’t have to wait for nearly an hour after I had closed up shop for her to finally show up. This time she appeared as if she were ready for a date. She adorned a nice dress that showed off all of her curves (especially her gargantuan belly that hung below her hips), she wore makeup for the first time, and her hair shined like a new car outside of its usual hastily-tied bun. Usually, I took the extra time to get cleaned up and change out of my chef’s uniform; I was covered in fruit preserves and my arms felt a little sticky. This time, however, I didn’t want to take my eyes off the beautiful enchantress before me. It was as if her planetary body came with a gravitational pull that had trapped my gaze.

“You got the goods?” she asked with more assertiveness than usual.

Her beautiful, dark eyes looked at me with intense hunger; it was equal parts arousing and terrifying.

“You’re making this sound like a drug deal,” I chuckled.

“C’mon, I’m hungry,”  she pleaded, my joke falling flat on its face.

“Alright, relax, I’ve still got you,” I said.

I already had exactly what she wanted; I had stashed all of the leftover pies by the rear door in anticipation of her arrival. I reached for the brown bags each containing four whole unsold pies and handed them to her.

“Got any more?” she asked.

“Really?” I asked, amazed by her gluttony; eight pies is a lot. “You want more?”

“They’re good!” she replied, blushing ever so slightly. “I mean- really good. You knocked these out of the park!”

Then it was my turn to blush; compliments for my cooking or baking are my heart’s kryptonite.

“Thank you,” I replied. “But I’m not sure if you can carry any more without dropping or crushing one.”

“How about I just ate one?” she suggested. “Before you threw the rest away.”

“Right here?” I asked, turning around and scanning the interior of the restaurant. “I don’t know, The Boss is strict about giving away food and I don’t want you on the security camera.”

I then pointed to the camera right above the back doorway.

“We’re lucky this one doesn’t work right or else I wouldn’t be able to sneak anything to you.”

“Th-that's okay, I’ll sit right here,” she replied matter-of-factly as she waddled a few steps forward and plopped her huge, round ass onto the floorboards of the rear porch. The wood creaked loudly and her fat spread out across the surface like thick pancake batter poured on the griddle. She then reached into one of the bags and grabbed a blueberry pie sitting on top of the surface along with a plastic fork.

I stared at her, unable to take my eyes off of her quivering rolls that jiggled as she rocked back and forth trying to get comfortable on the hardwood surface. As she finally stopped and her fat jiggled and quivered for a few more seconds, she turned her head and looked up at me.

“What?” she said as if taking a fork and eating an entire pie was a completely normal thing to do. “I’m hungry, I’ve barely eaten anything today. I’ve had, like, a half-pounder at Fudruckers and some Chipotle today but that was it.”

“Oh nothing, there’s no problem,” I said nonchalantly. “Lemme finish cleaning before I get the rest and lock up shop.”

I turned around and finished cleaning the kitchen for the day, I snuck a few glances at the beautiful woman happily gorging away at the pie I made like a greedy pig, shoving massive forkfuls of fatty, sugary, blueberry goodness into her mouth, her arms quivering with each forkful. I could just barely hear her humming happily as she ate over the sounds of the sink and clanking pans. As I wiped down the sink, I could see her throw the now-empty pie container aside and get started on a new pie, this time a special cognac and peach pie I won a baking competition with. As she got her fill, I could see her adjusting her dress as her belly swelled with the delicious dessert. She rubbed her corpulent tummy and let out a small burp as she put away the now-half-eaten peach pie and tossed it next to the blueberry pie dish.

I fought to hide my arousal as I grabbed two more pies and handed them to her.

“Thank you- urg,” she groaned as she rose to her feet slowly, weighed down by what must have been a quarter-ton of fat plus one and a half pies. “Oh that was so good, holy shit, these are really the best pies ever.”

“Thank you,” I replied, feeling a rush of giddy warmth flow through me. “You know, I may be a baker but I’m a damn good chef too. How does dinner at my place tomorrow night sound?”

“Yeah that sounds amazing,” she replied rushedly as if her gargantuan stomach made that decision for her before she could think about it.

“Excellent, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I replied happily.

She grabbed the pie-filled bags and waddled back to her car, her belly looking the roundest I had ever seen her. She stopped once and set down a bag to adjust her dress one more time as it rode up her fat-laden thighs before picking it back up, waddling to her car, struggling to fit her gut behind the wheel, and driving away.

I took a deep breath, knowing that I had won. I had caught her like the whale she was.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Merry Christmas!

It is unfortunate that I worked through most of it haha

It's about 5 days until the update, and I'll go through a bit of what you can expect from it!

The festival has two parts to it.

The first part is the general festival date. This lets you go between four different locations, that either being looking through a small food court, trying out game stalls, browsing shops, or visiting a fortune teller's tent.

Though these are the same options for every RO, the specific romance route that you are in will determine completely different outcomes for each option (I.E. E checks out souvenires in the shop, L will be interested in books, while F inspects a flower shop). These scenes showcase different lore regarding each character's interests and various worldbuilding that ties into their route.

The second part of the festival is the character specific scene. This is an extended scene exclusive to the character's romance story in which a couple things will happen:

You will meet secondary characters tied very closely to the romance route you're on. Your father/fill in will appear, and meet/confront your chosen RO.

For some, the specific routes are very sweet (Hospital visit with E, Hairpin exchange with L, Running from the guards with S) While others are definitely steeped in malaise (V's betrayal, P's defeat, Raven's identity breakdown). Then there are others that have a little of both in them.

Overall, each one presents very substantial strides in the RO's story, and I'm both happy in how they ended up turning out and excited for you all to experience both the happiness and sorrow of this festival haha

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 2

Out of the estimated 10 to 15,000 people in Hawkins Indiana, several hundred left just after the earthquake, a handful of families left during the serial killings to protect their families, and the rest?

Those remaining amounted up to about three hospitals worth. Four maximum. Whatever terrors had wrought through Hawkins during those two years of radio silence… had decimated the population.

So when the Harringtons got the call, when Steve’s croaky voice filled that speaker, and told them exactly where he was, which hospital they’d been taken to, they hadn’t wasted a single second, they jumped into the car, and broke several speed laws to get there.

The sight that greeted them on the other side of those double doors would be forever seared into their minds.

Families they’d known, broken, missing members neither Lynda or John wanted to assume about, were they alive, being treated in one of the rooms, or were they lost, neither wanted to know, so they pushed through, eyes roaming those waiting to be seen or waiting for news on friends and family until someone familiar appeared.

Lynda spotted her first, her legs pulled up on the chair, arms tucked around her knees, surrounded by a small hoard of younger teens, all supporting various non-life threatening injuries and scars they probably didn’t want to speak about.

It was like they’d come from a warzone, clothes torn, patched up by rags tied in places to cover skin, dirty skin, hair matted, clinging to each other, haunted. Nothing life threatening, it looked like they were all just… waiting.

Waiting for people who knew them to turn up for them.

“Robin!!” Lynda gasped, loud enough to catch the girls attention, her head snapping up, eyes wide as the parents rushed forward, Robin rose to her feet, stumbled almost just in time to be gathered up into Lynda’s arms, much to her surprise. She didn’t fight it though, no… instead she melted into it, as though it was the first physical contact she’d had that didn’t involve fighting for her life in two whole years. “Where—where are your parents, Robin?”

“T-They… I don’t know, they got out… I think… but I—I haven’t seen them, I think people are still learning that they can come back, if they even want to come back, I mean… there isn’t much left back there for anyone to come back to—Steve! Steve you want—you want Steve right?” The other kids seemed to have perked up, watching the interaction in confusion.

“Where is he, Robin?” Robin looked to John, her gaze a mixture of uncertainty and hesitance. “Please… we know he’s here, he called us, sounded—”

“He’s been in and out, worlds best babysitter took a beating from something… big, protecting these idiots.” They hadn’t been made to sign anything yet, but it was hard to explain what exactly had come for them in the end without sounding like she should be in a hug me jacket getting thrown into a rubber room. “C’mon, I’ll take you to him.”

“Robin? Who’s—” one of the kids started to rise from his seat, or… not a kid, probably closer to a young adult at that point, forced to grow up far too quickly.

“Steve’s parents.”

“Holy shit, they exist?” Both parents cast similar frowns in the boys direction for that little quip “—sorry It’s just… I’ve known him for years and never met you, doesn’t even—”

“That’s enough Dustin” Robin cut him off, sharply but not unkindly. “You don’t know everything, just drop it. C’mon, this way.” She seemed to be walking on a limp, but she was walking, leading them down a corridor until she made it to a door left slightly ajar, the one opposite it flanked on either side by a pair of soldiers. The Harringtons assumed she’d be leading them to the other. But no. She stopped outside of the one closed too and looked at the pair like they’d personally offended her.

They didn’t even try and stop her when she grabbed the handle, instead stepping a little further apart to allow her and her guests to enter with her, John closed the door behind him.

The room was quiet, mostly, save for a radio playing quietly by the window, a genre that no-one would ever assume could be played quietly, and the steady beep of life saving machines. It wasn’t a large room, only big enough for a single bed, the machines, some room to walk around, and a couple of chairs, private, but it housed two people anyway. One on the bed, hooked up to all those machines, skin pale, scarred, his hair long and messy in a way Lynda would probably guess he’d had curls at one point.

Not anymore, it was just a matted mess by that point, one of his hands resting in the linens, handcuffs on his wrist linking him to the bed, the other wrapped in someone else’s grip.

That someone else… the other—

“Steven?” His head snapped up at his father’s voice, hand swiftly withdrawing from the man’s in the bed, his hair had been cut short, possibly to the scalp for convenience, the lengths seemingly only just growing back, he had scars around his neck from what looked like barbs, scars down his arms, both old and new, bruising, treated injuries that'd likely looked way worse when he was admitted.

another round of injuries his parents figured he'd struggle to tell them about.

He rose to his feet, he looked… thin beneath the hospital garbs they’d put him in. Thinner than he should have been, he’d always been broad but now… it was as though he hadn’t had a decent meal in two years. Likely living off of whatever they could scrounge together.

“Stevie, my baby…” Lynda’s voice sounded more like a pained whine, but it was the only warning Steve got before his mother lurched forward and wrapped him up in a fierce hug, adjusting only when her son winced and hissed in pain “you—you were s-supposed to—you were supposed to call to—to contact us, you—”

“I know… I know I—we got cut off, that call, it was the last one any of us could make, those bastards cut us off when they realised it wasn’t gonna be like the times before.” It wasn’t going to be a quick one and done. That the thing they were dealing with was much bigger than just one evil.

It was a whole hoard of evil. Not just Henry. Henry had back up in the form of a gigantic evil cloud, monsters of all shapes and sizes, and an arsenal of loved ones to use as his own personal puppets to terrorize and destroy the people left behind. Eddie being the only one actually there.

“The times before?” John’s voice had his son looking up from the hug his mother had trapped him in. His eyes seemed to dip “Steven… please…”

Steve shook his head, he couldn’t, not there anyway. “I’m fine though,” he’d change the subject instead, a regular instance in the Harrington household, hide the truth and mask it with an “I‘m fine” “bit banged up, but I’ll live…” he released the hold on his mother, even if she didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Who’s this…?” And they let it happen. Every time they let it happen, let the subject go, let it switch to something new, John would allow it for now, but… once out of there, once the dust settled, they’d be having that talk. For now, he was okay with letting the subject change. Aiming it instead at the elephant in the room.

The unconscious man in the bed his son had been holding onto moments ago. That ember, that tiny spark in his son, perhaps… perhaps it was still there.

“Eddie… he uh… he helped, at the end… he—we wouldn’t be alive without him… we thought—we thought he was dead for months but… he wasn’t.” Another touchy subject, but at least that one his son was willing to talk about.

“The handcuffs?”

“Police still think he killed a bunch of kids before the earthquake, the handcuffs are a ‘precaution’ apparently, as if he’s going anywhere.” The serial killer. Eddie Munson. Lynda’s head snapped to the man, eyes wide “he didn’t!” Steve was quick to assure her “It looked bad, it did, it looked like he did it, but he didn’t, he wouldn’t he—he’s good… he’s good. He saved us.”

“Saved you? How?”

“It’s hard to explain…”

Robin on the other hand, didn’t care quite as much as their son did when it came to hiding the facts. “Evil guy, Henry Creel, actual culprit in the Creel murders of ’59 and actual serial killer, we thought Eddie died before the earthquake cause he basically got ate alive by a bunch of evil bats, but Henry was using him as a henchman of sorts, kept him alive to use against us cause we all felt guilty over it which… y’know, fair, he didn’t have to stay involved but he did, and he got ate of course, we felt guilty. I dunno how, but he snapped out of it at like… the last minute, and bought us enough time to take him down, now he’s just…” she motioned to the bed, the steady beep of the monitor going off rhythmically. “We got him out this time though.”

“…What?” Both Harringtons asked in unison.

“Robin” Steve hissed.

“What? Jeez, they haven’t made us sign anything yet.”

“…Sign something? What do you mean sign something?” Lynda looked between them, the two young adults clearly exhausted. “Steven? What have you signed?”

“NDA’s mom, each time, they’ve forced us to sign these Non-Disclosur—”

“Who?”

“Y’know… the government?”

There was something distinctly satisfying about watching a 5’4" woman demolishing a government agent. Something almost the entirety of the Party managed to witness when someone from said government finally decided to grace them with their presence to sign those pretty shut your mouth documents they were so fond of dolling out.

John Harrington watched with what could only be described as a dopey grin on his face as he leaned in to whoever was closest, this being one very tired Mike Wheeler, to say “You know she majored in Contract Law back in the day? Minor in Ethics too. God look at her go.” Totally and completely smitten over his own wife’s rage.

Apparently forcing minors to sign NDA’s, while technically legal for them to scribble on the dotted line, couldn’t actually be held up anywhere in court due to age and how dare they force children, not just her OWN but other children to sign that shit without a parent or legal guardian present.

It ended with her loudly declaring that “NOBODY in this hallway will be signing your goddamn papers, and as for the previous ones? You’ll be hearing from our lawyers.” Then, on her heel she turned, and returned to the group, leaving a stunned government agent floundering in the hallway having clearly expected an easy ride. “Everyone, get your things, you’re coming home with us.” Too revved up to stop just yet.

“Excuse me, why would we go with you? Ain’t you ever heard of stranger danger, ma’am?”

“Erica Sinclair, I held you when you were just 3 months old and I bought you and your brother your first strollers, now get your backside out to that car this instant.” Erica shut up, momentarily subdued, but she did have to wonder when exactly her parents had met the Harringtons, later, questions for later. Maybe when she and her brother found their parents. “We have a house with two bathrooms and enough food to feed an army, let’s go.” Not quite the six bathroom four bedroom estate they’d had in Hawkins but…

They weren’t going back there. Nobody was going back there.

The modest two bed close by would do as home base for now, even if it wasn’t quite big enough to hold everyone, they’d make do. John stepped forward to add, “we have a working phone too, get you in touch with the people you need to be in touch with, and we’ll let the front desk know to inform anyone who comes looking where you’ve gone. It’ll be okay, let’s get you out of here and cleaned up.”

“Mom… I’m not leaving Eddie, we’re not… not again, he’s—he’s all on his own I—I can’t.”

“Honey…” Lynda started, but… that little boy they’d long since watched withdraw into himself, he was just… there, for the briefest of moments, showing himself, his emotions, raw, and tired, but it was enough, her son was in there, clawing back to the surface, she wasn’t about to ruin it now. “How about we go home, we get you all cleaned up, get you something to eat, and then we come back and figure out what to do about Eddie, how’s that sound?”

“We have plenty of world class lawyers on our side, Son, we’ll get him out of here in no time, just… let’s get you cleaned up first, Okay? The house is only half an hour away.” Close, they’d be close, the hesitation on all of their faces though, this poor boy, whoever he was… they all hesitated to leave him, there was a lot of love in that hallway, each one as determined as the last to stay with their friend.

“…Alright shitheads, to the car.” Not a single one of those kids argued, Steve was in charge, but Mike and Lucas both hung back.

“I’m gonna stay with the Byers, Nance, Holly, and my mom are with them so—”

“An I’m gonna stick with Max until her mom gets here.” Doctors said she could wake up at any time after her brain activity kicked back up when the dust settled… when Henry died. He wanted to be there when she did. “I’ll be fine though, promise.”

And when Lynda stepped forward to hand Mike a little card with a number scribbled on it, saying “This is our home number, If anything changes with your friend, Eddie while we’re gone, call us, okay? We’ll be right back here in a flash.” She caught the faint smile on her sons face in her peripheral vision.

Baby steps.

Part 4

[ranchthoughts]

Another Update on the GMMTV Kissing Multiverse

Hello everyone! Back again with another update on the GMMTV Kissing Multiverse.

The first version is here, second version here.

EDIT: New update is here, the tag for future updates is here.

Rules

Must have visible lip to lip contact

Must be shown on screen in a GMMTV tv series (no kisses from ads, promotional content, etc.)

Breakdown by Show

I have analyzed 61 shows so far:

(full list in alt text)

Breakdown By Actor

I have analyzed 112 actors so far:

(full lists in alt text)

Results and Discussion

Most Kissing Pairs Per Show

The shows with the most different kissing pairs are:

Warp Effect (15 different pairs)

Friendzone (11 different pairs)

U-Prince (9 different pairs)

The Player and The Jungle (7 different pairs each)

Only Friends (5 different pairs)

Not Me and 3 Will Be Free have 4 each, then Mama Gogo, Moonlight Chicken, P.S. I Hate You, Theory of Love, and Three Gentlebros have 3 different kissing pairs each.

The Power of Jojo

As discovered in the first iteration, Jojo has an outsized impact on the number of kissing pairs.

He directed roughly 13% of all the shows analyzed but his shows contain about 33% of kisses present in the data set. Jojo also directed 4 of the top 6 shows with the most different kissing pairs (and 6 of the top 13).

The median number of "different kissing pairs per show" of a Jojo show is 6.0, compared to a median of only 1.8 "different kissing pairs per show" in non-Jojo shows.

(note: I am just looking at kissing pair iterations here not at unique kissing pairs, e.g., Phuwin/Pond are a pair in two shows (once in a Jojo show and once in a non-Jojo show), so they are counted twice.)

Most Kissing Partners

There has been a shift in the rankings... Welcome Joss to the top!

Top ranked are Joss with 10 different kissing partners, then Lee and Namtan with 9 different kissing partners each, then Ohm and Nanon with 7 each.

Next are Gigie and Singto with 6 kissing partners each, then Bright, Film, First, Fluke Pusit, Jan, Krist, Mild, New, and Off with 5 each. Finally, Drake, Fah, Neo, Plustor, Tay, and Win have 4 each.

The average number of kissing partners per actor is 2.3.

Most Kissing Partners in One Show

We have four people tied for "Most Kissing Partners in One Show," and they are from only two different shows. A round of applause for Plustor (4 different kissing partners in Friendzone) and for Fluke Pusit, Gigie, and New (each with 4 different kissing partners in Warp Effect)!

Honorable mentions to: Joss (3 in The Player AND 3 in 3 Will Be Free), Namtan (3 in The Player), Neo (3 in Only Friends), and Singto (3 in Friendzone).

Please note all of these shows are Jojo shows.

The Kiss Web

Behold... the Kiss Web:

I made this to better visualize the intertwined who-kisses-who situation going on. It's, uh... a lot.

I also made some fun visual breakdowns to help sort through the mess of the Web:

First image below highlights "kissing triangles" and "squares" (shout out to the 3 Will Be Free trio of Joss, Mild, and Tay; the Friendzone trio of Nat, Plustor, and Singto; and the Warp Effect triangle of Fluke Pusit, Gigie, and New and square of Fah, Gigie, Joong, and New, all of which were established over the course of one show each - yes these are all Jojo shows).

The second image highlights the reach of the top 5 kissers.

The third image shows the incredible kissing webs of Warp Effect (in red) and Friendzone (in blue), the two shows with the most kissing pairs.

Unique vs. Repeat Kissing Pairs

The vast majority of kissing pairs only occur once, in one show. There are 136 "unique" kissing pairs in the data set, with 128 (94%) only appearing once, in one show, and 8 (6%) pairs appearing at least twice.

The 8 pairs that appear in more than one show are:

Book/Force (in A Boss and A Babe, Enchante, and Only Friends)

Bright/Win (in 2gether and Still 2gether)

Dunk/Joong (in Hidden Agenda and Star In My Mind)

Earth/Mix (in A Tale of Thousand Stars, Cupid's Last Wish, and Moonlight Chicken)

Film/Gun (in Not Me and Three Gentlebros)

First/Khaotung (in The Eclipse and Only Friends)

Gun/Off (in Not Me and Theory of Love)

Louis/Neo (in The Eclipse and Fish Upon The Sky)

All these pairs, with the exception of Film/Gun, are BL branded pairs, which says something about the variety of the het GMMTV show world and about the structure of the BL system.

All in all, 99% of mixed gender pairs only appear once, in one show, compared to 88% of same gender pairs.

Same Gender vs. Mixed Gender Kissing Pairs

A change in the data! With all the new kisses we've gotten in, the balance has shifted. Of the 136 "unique" (non-repeated) kissing pairs, 59% are mixed gender pairs and 41% are same gender pairs.

Last time we were at 59% same gender kisses and 41% mixed gender kisses, but our sample includes more het shows now which explains the shift.

I dug into this a little further by looking at how many shows featured both same and mixed gender kissing pairs, and which shows featured only one or the other.

43% of the shows had only same gender kissing pairs, 39% of the shows had only mixed gender kissing pairs, and only 18% of shows featured both. All in all, a fairly even split.

I was curious so I did the math - about 34% of the 112 actors I looked at have only ever kissed someone of the same gender. Of that 34%, roughly 32% have kissed more than one person of the same gender (representing about 11% of the full sample).

And now, some burning questions...

Which of the GMMTV boys has kissed the most guys?

We have a five-way tie for first place: congrats to First, Fluke Pusit, Neo, Plustor, and Singto, with 4 men kissed each!

First kissed Gawin (Not Me), Khaotung (The Eclipse and Only Friends), Mix (Moonlight Chicken), and Ohm (The Shipper)

Fluke Pusit kissed Jay Jatuporn (Warp Effect), New (Warp Effect), Ohm Thipakorn (A Boss and A Babe), and Thor (Warp Effect)

Neo kissed Drake (Only Friends), Force (Only Friends), Louis (Fish Upon The Sky and The Eclipse), and Mark Pakin (Only Friends)

Plustor kissed AJ (Friendzone), Arm (Friendzone), Nat (Friendzone), and Singto (Friendzone) [he was very busy in Friendzone]

Singto kissed Krist (SOTUS), Nat (Friendzone), Ohm (HCTM), and Plustor (Friendzone)

Second place is a five-way tie between Earth, Gawin, Khaotung, Krist, and Ohm who have kissed 3 men each!

There are also 13 men who have kissed two men each: Chimon, Dunk, Force, Gun, Mek, Mix, Nat, New, Papang, Pawin, Phuwin, Pod, and Tay.

*Note: while First and Fluke Pusit appear together in The Shipper, and it gets verrrry close, they do not actually kiss.

Where does Only Friends stand so far?

Only Friends itself is at 5 kissing pairs so far, which is higher than average but only 5th place overall among shows. I believe it can claw its way up easily though (it only needs two more kissing pairs to catch 4th places The Jungle and The Player)!

First has had 5 kissing partners so far which means he's only 2 away from reaching the top 5 Kissers (Joss has 10 kissing partners, Lee and Namtan have 9 each, Nanon and Ohm have 7 each). Neo is at 4 kissing partners, so also within reach of the top if he puts some effort in. Khaotung is at 3 partners, so within reach of the upper echelon but maybe more of a stretch. Force and Mark Pakin are at a respectable 2 partners each so far but Book has only had one kissing partner so he is going to need to kiss a lot to make up some ground. Lookjun is at 2 so she has room to move too.

In terms of gay kisses, First and Neo are already at the top of the leader board with 4 men kissed each, while Khaotung sits in respectable second place with 3 men kissed. All three have a strong chance of moving up the standings (Neo is averaging 1 new kissing partner a week so let's see if that continues). Force has kissed two men so he is not far off either. Mark Pakin and Book have only kissed one man each and thus they are far down the leader board for GMMTV men who have kissed men, but I remain optimistic.

Contributing authors:

@airenyah, @alsoran, @alwaysthepessimist, various anons, @bengiyo, @burnsuncomet, @callipigio, @cangse-sanren, @catboykacchan, @catboyjosten, @catsundmaus, @chickenstrangers, @crowie, @dribs-and-drabbles, @ffirstkhao, @isaksbestpillow, @jeonghanurl, @kattahj, @kpinhiding, @lurkingshan, @maibpenrai, @maybeitdontmakesense, @nieves-de-sugui, @non-binarypal7, @sammie-lightwood-bane, @sollucets, @userneos, @theselightsareblinding, @tiistirtipii, @waitmyturtles, @williamrikers

Data visualization consultants: @chickenstrangers, @wen-kexing-apologist

Asked to be tagged: @blmpff

[atarathegreat]

Orange Cat Behavior Headcanons

ft: Kirishima, Sero, Todoroki, Hawks, Mirio, Shinso

The floor is lava with Kirishima was eventful, at least. The both of you bouncing around the sitting quarters in the dorm as the other students walked around as if it wasn't happening, and Aizawa tried not to worry about it. If you fell and busted your face open then he would be responsible. You and Kirishima were careful enough that you kept each other from dive bombing the floor.

"Kiri! How long can we touch the floor?" You dove from the tv table to the coffee table. You wanted to move around more than the couches and two tables, and the kitchen wasn't that far. "Like, six seconds." Kirishima stared at you, then glanced at the dining table where you were looking. "Don't tell me..."

"I am." You stood on the back of the couch, "You count down the seconds for me, if I don't make it... we had a good run."

You made it halfway across the floor when he reached 1. You had burned up in the lava. "No!" You fell to your knees, then your back, pretending to be dead. Kirishima sacrificed himself, holding your limp body as he dramatically cried out.

The last thing Sero expected was to find you on the roof of the dorm with what appeared to be around 70 feet of rope.

"What are you doing?" He stared from you to the edge of the roof, "And what's that?" You looked down, "Oh, this is my new shirt. Like it?"

"I meant the rope."

"Oh."

You grabbed the rope and tied it to the nearest, what was definitely not sturdy enough, anchor, "I'm going to see how long it takes me to scale the building with this rope. And you better not tell Aizawa what I'm doing. He already stopped me last week."

"Ten four."

It wasn't his fault, but Todoroki had a bad habit of reminding you of a really, really dumb cat. He always looked confused or shocked or...well there surely wasn't thoughts behind his eyes. Today was no different. He just stared at everything, hardly said two words to anyone.

So, you hid in his dark room to scare him when he got back to the dorms. It wasn't the best idea, considering he could've turned you into a real nice fish fillet. But instead, it worked in your favor. You crawled out from under his bed like some bullshit from the Grudge and he ran screaming.

And it's only funny if you followed him down the dark halls and into the darker big open rooms. Which you did.

With it being his day off, and you hadn't yet gotten up to make breakfast, Keigo was busy kissing your face. Slow, almost bored kisses.

"Can I go make breakfast yet?" You muttered, your stomach grumbling. You had woken up hours ago and was kept in the bed by soft feathers and promises of "Soon enough, dove."

But that's not who Keigo was. No, he wanted your attention and was going to keep you in the bed. Another slow and firm kiss was pressed to your nose before he even tried to speak. "In a moment, dove, let me have my time here."

It was absolutely insane how fast Mirio was. Running around the dorm for his exercise since it was raining. You had tried to get him to go outside with a raincoat, but once you opened the door, he would step away and change his mind.

"I'm just fine in here, thanks, though." And he went back to zooming around the common room and knocking things over for his gains.

Taking Shinso to a cat cafe was a nice choice for his birthday, except that he spent all his time on the floor with the cats. He wasn't worried about the coffee or tea or food, he was having fun with the cats. And you watched as he just laid on his back or his tummy, petting and cooing to the cats around him.

"Can we go again tomorrow?" Shinso asked as you both left, "Please, please, please? Did you see how cute they all were?"

"We can go tomorrow." You chuckled.

Shinso jumped around the empty sidewalk, grabbing your hands and just shaking with energy with how excited he was.

[thepaperpanda]

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fem!Reader, shibari

Synopsis: Douma initiates you into the world of shibari

Author: @dumadono

A/N: Welcome to another day of Kinktober '23 Collaboration Today's prompt: shibari

Masterlist

Douma's heart is captivated by artistry, and what greater embodiment of artistic expression is there than the ancient Japanese art of bondage, known as shibari or, in its traditional form, kinbaku? 

_________________

That day, he embarks on a journey from mere admiration to active engagement and beyond. This is why the two of you find yourselves strolling along this quiet, desolate dirt path, burdened with an array of tools and paraphernalia, ready to delve into the world of bound passion and creative intimacy.

"Have you ever ventured into the art of shibari?" you inquire, your voice hesitant like a gentle breeze.

"A few times, yet I never fully mastered it, lotus," he responds, his words flowing like a tranquil stream.

"How so, Douma-sama?" you question, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

"Shibari, my little lotus, is an art of intricate knots and delicate ties," he answers, his voice a seductive whisper. "It requires patience, precision, and a deep connection between the one tying and the one being bound. I believe we share such a connection."

You blush at his words.

You now find yourself at a single-room wooden dwelling. Douma has frequented this place, studying its secrets, delivering various items, and readying the weathered edifice you now encounter for its current purpose. For several months, no soul has ventured here, and this aligns perfectly with Douma's intentions. Silence reigns, a tranquility he diligently maintains.

Now that you are both inside, and you undress completely.

In complete silence, Douma's actions speak volumes. His kisses and tender caresses trace your body with affection, focusing on your breasts and ass. As you sit on a small stool, he carefully unravels coils of rope. One end is guided through the first of the eye bolts, draping down to your shoulders. The length is matched with the other end, and a secure knot is tied at the eye bolt. With your arms extended, Douma has you hold a sturdy bamboo rod behind your head, spanning from one hand to the other.

Methodically, deliberately, and with deep affection, Douma begins to weave the ropes around you, starting at your underarms and winding them around until they reach your hands. Ornamental knots adorn each hand, and then the ropes are guided back up, securing them to the same eye bolt. Your upper body is now firmly bound, your arms suspended about three feet above the floor. Despite only four points of suspension, the bamboo and the rope's intricate threading ensure your weight is evenly distributed.

Next, another rope passes through the far eye bolt, and it's employed to secure your ankles to another bamboo rod intended to maintain your legs apart. A third rope descends, slipping beneath the small of your back, alleviating most of the weight from your ankle restraints. Two additional ropes loop under your back, the first just below your breasts, and the second halfway between the first and the rope near your hips. All of this consumes a substantial amount of time due to the meticulous knot work being executed.

At this juncture, you are suspended from the eye bolts with only your head left unsupported. Douma brushes your hair, "You're such a good lotus, so obedient to me."

You're now completely bound. 

“How are you feeling, my precious lotus?” Douma asks, his tone lacing with sweetness.

“I’m good, master,” you reply, offering him a smile. “Keep going.”

Removing the stool, Douma stands back to assess his handiwork. To a casual observer, it might appear as if you are being tortured, but the reality is quite the opposite. In truth, you are utterly comfortable and at peace. You feel more liberated than you have ever felt before. You have surrendered yourself completely to Douma and have no decisions to worry about.

The height at which you are suspended is carefully selected to grant Douma ideal access to your pussy while he occupies the stool. His eyes remain closed as he skillfully employs his mouth and tongue, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm while you hover weightlessly in the air. He possesses an innate sense of timing, allowing just enough respite before resuming his attention. Overwhelmed by ecstasy and a profound sensation of boundless pleasure, your passionate cries fill the space. This experience is unlike any you've ever encountered, an unprecedented expression of love and desire.

Douma's skilled tongue dances slowly on your clitoris, occasionally gliding down the slit to your sweet entrance, which emits juices he adores so much. He places tender licks here and there, occasionally applying a gentle suction to your lips, all while humming with delight.

You inquire about him, expressing your desire to please him in return.

Douma responds, breaking his silence for the first time since your arrival, stating that this experience is for your satisfaction, and you need not worry about his release at this moment. It's also unlikely that you'd be in a condition to attend to his needs after this intense scene.

After a few hours, you are lowered from your suspended position. You're tired. Exhaustion has taken its toll, and Douma gently carries you along the deserted dirt road back to his shrine while weariness overcomes you, and you eventually fall asleep in his comforting embrace.

"I love you so much, little lotus," Douma whispers, placing a tiny kiss on your temple.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Janthony

barbie dolls: Anthony Lockwood x you

word: 3k ish

summary: Anthony has a secret admirer who can't seem to figure out his middle name

warnings: you rude bike, also eat twizzlers bc I associate twizzlers with bikes and before you say anything no it doesn't have anything to do with Juno leave me alone, Lockwood's parents death mentioned, mentions of blowing heads off, you'll probably cringe at the one note I did write but I'm just four squirrels stacked on top of each other what more do you want from me, George and Lucy are certified haters but it's in a loving way

The first note confused him. Lockwood went out to get the mail but he paused when he reached the gate. There, tied to the pole, was a flower and a small piece of paper. He gently untied the ribbon.

Lockwood initially thought it was for George. His initials scrawled across the top of the paper made him reconsider. He read the note and realized he had just gained a secret admirer.

With that, the notes kept coming. Some had poetry describing his looks, some had a gift waiting in the mailbox, and some were just a good old-fashioned letter. All of them were signed the same.

‘Lukewarm regards,’ and then his full name was written out. His middle name was always different. It was Jacqueline, Jordan, Jack, Jason, and James, but his admirer’s favorite? Janthony. The first time he read it Lockwood had laughed. The second he chuckled. By the third time, George was calling him Janthony every time he got the chance.

George easily found out, seeing the notes and growing population of flowers in the kitchen. He saw Lockwood’s smile when he came back from getting the mail. He thought it was cute.

Lockwood wanted to respond and wanted to see you. But it was entirely impossible. He felt like he was trying to catch smoke, with the lights off and his eyes closed. Every time he would stare out the window and watch the gate, the second he left to use the bathroom when he came back there was a note waiting for him. It was entirely impossible how fast you moved. Lockwood thought it was silly that it was harder to catch his admirer than it was to catch a ghost. He started tying notes to the gate himself, in response to yours. They would disappear with a new one. You became pen pals with extra steps.

Once George asked him what he thought his admirer looked like, it was a flabby attempt at trying to see if Lockwood could be swayed by physical appearance. Lockwood had sighed and stared out the window, all dreamy. ‘it doesn't matter, they're already the most beautiful person to me.’ George gagged.

Eventually, Lucy moved in and Lockwood was still chasing his smoke. Lucy and George started conspiring who they thought it was. George said the old woman down the street. Lucy said the post-boy. With a lot of frustration boiling inside of Lockwood, he decided he would stay up all night, staring out the window. He felt like a child trying to catch the tooth fairy.

Lucy accompanied him, George saying there was no point before tucking himself into bed. So Lucy and Lockwood stayed up the whole night, staring out the window. Lockwood was more determined. Lucy would get up every once and a while to make sure they were fed. Eventually, as the hours went on, fog settled over the street, and they started losing hope. Lockwood was struggling to keep his eyes open. Lucy was still hyped up on her handful of pixie sticks she had no plans of going to sleep. She knew Lockwood wouldn't make it through the whole night. He fell asleep with his legs thrown over her lap. Lucy kept her eyes trained outside, ignoring Lockwood's snores.

Just as the sun was peaking over the horizon she saw movement out in the fog. There you came, rolling around the corner of the street on your bike. You had a sweet aura about you. Maybe it was your small smile tugging at your lips, maybe it was the twizzle sticking out the corner of your mouth, maybe it was your sweater. Whatever it was Lucy wanted to be friends with you, know your every thought, know your favorite color and drink. She wanted to look across the room to make sure you heard something and thought what she did. At first, she just assumed you were some innocent bystander, riding your bike out for fun. Then you stopped by the gate. Flicking out your kickstand with your ankle as you dismounted. Lucy's grin grew as she realized she was witnessing Lockwood's admirer while he was passed out.

You pulled out a box out of your backpack. You dropped it into the mailbox and tied a small note to the gate’s pole. As you got back on your bike, Lucy slammed her palm on the window pane. Your head shot up, making eye contact with her. Lucy gave you a bright smile, waving rapidly at you. You pressed your finger to your lips before turning back and riding your bike off into the fog.

When Lockwood finally woke up he looked out the window and slumped when he saw a note. He heard Lucy in the kitchen. Lockwood flung himself into the nearest chair.

“We missed them, again.” He muttered, defeated.

“Correction. You missed them, again. I saw them just fine.” Lockwood gaped at Lucy. George joined them looking between their faces.

“The hell happened to you two?” George asked, pouring himself orange juice.

“I saw Lockwood's admirer and he didn't because he was snoring away,” Lucy said with a proud grin. Lockwood shook his head.

“Are they hot?” George asked. Lockwood snapped his head at George.

“George.” He said in a scolding tone.

“Yes,” Lucy said with a smile.

“Lucy.” Lockwood glared at them both.

“Oh, you're just pissed you didn't get to see them yourself,” George muttered. Lockwood shrugged.

“Next question,” Lockwood muttered. Lucy clicked her tongue.

“Are you going to go get the mail?” Lucy asked. Lockwood shook his head.

“It'll just rub my failure in my face.” Lucy sighed at him, leaving to get the mail herself. She brought back the box and note among the junk mail. She gently set the box and note in front of Lockwood’s pouting face. He stared at it for a moment before sitting up. Lockwood first read the note, a disgustingly beautiful letter that made him flush. He was worried about opening the gift. It could easily be a tarantula though he doubted you'd do that. Lockwood steeled himself pulling the lid off the box.

He found a leather-bound journal, with his initials in gold paint on the front. Lockwood opened it to find your handwriting.

‘For your wild mind, Dear Anthony Janthony Lockwood.’ sealed off with a little heart next to the words. He traced over the lines with his fingertips. Lockwood flicked through the pages, maybe you left another note. He reached the back cover and slumped at nothing but the stamp from the craftsman. George stared over Lockwood's shoulder, picking up the journal himself.

“Your wild mind?” George muttered in a teasing tone. Lockwood sighed.

“I told them about how I used to journal as a kid and I just couldn't bring myself to do it anymore after my parents passed. So it's actually quite thoughtful.” Lockwood let out a loud sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh look at that,” George muttered. Lockwood sat up, trying to look at what he was pointing at. George moved the book away from him, showing Lucy.

“Oh, hey, look at that.” She nodded approvingly before taking a sip out of her mug.

“What? What is it?” Lockwood asked, looking between them. Maybe he missed a note. George turned the book around, showing him the stamp. Lockwood shook his head, slumping again.

“It's the manufacturer, it's handmade in town.” Lockwood sighed again, ignoring George. He already knew that. “Meaning they'd have to get it done personally, a handmade custom journal done in town.” Lockwood stared out the window.

“Meaning, you could go ask the person who made this who your admirer is,” Lucy stated, trying to make it more plain for Lockwood. Lockwood paused, looking over at them. He looked back out the window.

“We have a new errand on the itinerary today.” He muttered.

They found the bookbinder easily, the logo stamped in the back of his journal. When they got inside it was small and dark but it felt warm. There were books along most of the walls and a desk in the back. Lockwood, George, and Lucy made it to the desk and waited silently. There was a small silver bell on the side, next to the register. George reached out and rang it before Lucy could stop him. While the group quietly argued over the politeness or ringing a bell, an old man's head popped out from around the corner. He was balding and looked mean. Lockwood explained to him the situation, asking who asked for the journal to be made.

“You must be Janthony. I told them I wasn't doing nothing for free. I have a card for you.” The old man pulled an envelope out from under the register and held it out to Lockwood. Lockwood thanked him and quickly ripped into it.

Paperbacks

Candle wax

Bookshelves

Reading by themselves

Books in a pile

Your next clue is held by a vampire

Lockwood pressed his lips together. It appears his one more errand has turned into two. Lockwood dragged them across town to the Library. He paused when he realized he didn't know any vampires nearby. George called him an idiot and stalked off to a bookshelf. Lockwood glanced at Lucy. She shrugged. They waited patiently as George walked over to them again, a book in his hands. He flashed the cover. Dracula. George flipped the book upside down and flipped through the pages. Another letter floated to the ground. George looked up at Lockwood with an ‘I told you so' before heading back towards the shelf.

Lockwood yanked the letter off the ground, before tearing into it. He scanned over the words quickly. The letter was taken out of his hands by Lucy.

“This one’s lamer than the last,” Lucy whispered. Lockwood glared at her, taking the letter back.

“Don’t be rude.” Lockwood folded the letter. Lucy sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well glad we’re off to Satchell’s. We needed to go anyways.” Lucy muttered, just as George joined them.

“This might be a strange question, but was there something left here by someone?” The cashier stared at him blankly. They raised an eyebrow.

“Another place, I kinda wished I went and got the mail every morning,” George said, following after them.

When they did make it to Satcchell’s, they split up instantly. George and Lucy split up the list of things they needed. Lockwood busied himself by reading the back of the closest item to him. Eventually, Lucy and George returned to Lockwood with their arms full of supplies. He led them to the register, greeting the cashier as they left the products on the counter. Lockwood paid the cashier before speaking up about something that wasn’t about the weather.

“Possibly for an Anthony?” Lockwood asked. the cashier shook his head.

“No, don’t think so.” The cashier said as they bagged the items.

“Try Janthony,” George muttered, he meant it mainly as a joke but no one laughed.

“For a Janthony?” Lockwood asked, avoiding eye contact with the cashier. The cashier looked up at him.

“Yeah actually.” They reached under the countertop. They stuck out a letter to Lockwood. Lockwood recognized the handwriting on the back. Lockwood thanked the cashier, handing the bags to George and Lucy. They all headed towards the door, standing by the wall as Lockwood stared down at the letter. He smiled at the name on the back. He laughed at Janthony at first, then he hated it mostly because of George, and now he was finding it a symbol of your care. You probably thought it was a joke too, but every time he read it in your handwriting he wanted to hear it from your mouth more. The letter was passed around the three of them, George groaning. Lucy shrugged, handing the letter back to Lockwood.

“Another errand across town, why couldn’t they just tell you their name?” George complained. Lockwood pressed his lips together. He lightly smacked George in the chest with the letter.

“Well off we go, George. On an adventure, to find my caring and loving penpal who has done nothing to you.” Lockwood said, walking off in the direction of where the letter described. Lockwood heard George groan again.

“I personally found it cute Lockwood likes them so much he’s willing to travel all across the city just to maybe see them.” Lucy declared, clasping her hands behind her back with a pep in her step. George scoffed. Lockwood shook his head.

“But you see, I’ve already seen them. I know what your little lover looks like and you don't.” Lucy said the Lockwood with a mocking tone. ; Lockwood felt his face warming.

“Firstly, not my lover. We’re peculiar pen pals. Secondly, I have no opinion on their looks. I’ll love them until my last breath exits my lungs. I’ll smile at their voice until my hearing vanishes from old age. My heart will sing at their words until it pumps its last beat.” Lockwood explained, keeping his fast pace. Lucy and George stopped abruptly. Lockwood heard the lack of their steps, turning around. They stared at him.

“What?”

“How can you speak that way about them and then say you aren’t lovers?” Lucy muttered. Lockwood shook his head. George huffed.

“You’re so whipped. I'm not sure if you two actually talk I can handle it. You’ll be drooling the whole time. I’ll have to pick up your jaw to sweep under it.” he whispered, angrily. Lucy nodded.

“Truly, they’re already insufferable. Not sure if I could resist the urge to blow my head off if they kiss.” Lucy said, tossing in an eye-roll. Lockwood felt someone could cook an egg on his cheeks. Lockwood opened his mouth before closing it. he spun around, his coat adding a flare. He stalked off, hearing George and Lucy following after him. They stepped through the door of Arif’s, the bell ringing above them.

Lockwood felt anxiety pull at his stomach. He clutched the letter tighter. George pulled the letter out of his hands and stared at the side of his face.

“Why is your face doing that?” George muttered.

“I’m not sure what to do. The letter just tells me to come here, not where to find the next clue.” Lockwood said, glancing around the shop. No one was behind the counter. There was only one other person in the room, a man sitting in the back hunched over paperwork.

“Maybe we are at the last clue. Maybe they’re here, Lockwood.” Lucy muttered. “I think that's them over there.” She pointed over at the balding man in the corner. Lockwood faked a laugh.

“Please take this seriously.” He whispered. Lucy sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Geoge tutted.

“You should ring the bell, Lockwood,” George muttered. Lockwood steeled himself, marching to the counter and ringing the silver bell. A head popped out from behind the curtain that led to the back. Lucy let out a small gasp. She leaned into Lockwood’s ear.

“That’s them.” Lockwood felt his stomach drop and his heart palpate. He was looking at the kindest person he's ever talked to. He suddenly felt very real. A real human with the chance of being judged. A real person who was extremely vulnerable with someone all because he’d only ever seen their handwriting. and now he was looking into your eyes, knowing you knew more about him than both his friends standing next to him combined. He was right, though. You were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He felt a sense of dread wash over him, you could easily insult him right now. You could easily crawl over the countertop and strangle him. Or worse, judge him. Lockwood felt his cheeks heat as you smiled brightly at him.

“I see you’ve found me.” Lockwood felt the tension in his body release, his shoulder drop. That's what you decided to do when you first met him, smile. Lockwood felt his own smile peak at his lips.

“I did.” He muttered, glancing down at the letter in his hands. You stood across from the other side of the counter.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked. Lockwood’s head shot up, staring at you shocked.

“I could never be dissapointed by you.” You scoffed at him.

“My my you're even cheesier in person.” Lockwood laughed at you, giving you a one-shouldered shrug.

“Are you? Disappointed that is?” Lockwood asked, staring into your eyes. Lockwood noticed his friends had left, sitting at a table. They were staring at him blatantly.

“No. You’re-“ you paused. “You’re, well, Anthony Janthony Lockwood. What isn’t there to like?” Lockwood snorted at his fake middle name. He was right again, Janthony sounded much nicer falling from your lips than George’s. Lockwood jumped at the sound of the owner yelling at you. He mentioned something about not paying you to stand around. You handed Lockwood a donut. He quickly paid you.

“You know, now that we’ve met face-to-face. Would you accompany me on a date?” Lockwood avoided eye contact with you, staring at the doughnut.

“I’d love to.” Lockwood released a breath. He relaxed his shoulders.

“Oh thank god.” You laughed at Lockwood, handing him his change. He smiled at you. Lockwood felt his body heat when your fingers touched. You waved Lockwood off and walked to the table with George and Lucy pretending to gag.

“Glad you met your lover, can we go home now? I'm tired.” George asked. Lockwood nodded.

“Yes, we’re going home now.” Lucy shot up out of her chair, dashing out the door. Lockwood and George were quick to follow. When Lockwood passed the windows to Arif’s he triumphantly pumped his fist. The next morning he found the details of your date tied to his front gate in your handwriting.