#two of those chapters i plan to post close to each other because you know

[aparticularbandit]

and another chapter of the dr1 end rewrite fic into the backlog.

[prodagustd]

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter. 

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side. 

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact. 

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him. 

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked. 

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain. 

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed. 

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. 

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too. 

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt. 

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up. 

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.” 

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent. 

Yoongi scoffed, amused.  “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you. 

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no. 

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this. 

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it. 

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive. 

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake. 

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too.  She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit. 

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.) 

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown. 

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help. 

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth. 

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body.  “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.” 

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.” 

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes. 

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back. 

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask. 

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.” 

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him. 

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother. 

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought  didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.” 

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words. 

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke. 

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say. 

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.” 

Jungkook hummed, still thinking. 

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded. 

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation. 

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic. 

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution. 

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.” 

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier. 

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly. 

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it. 

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest. 

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.  

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either. 

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place. 

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.” 

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide. 

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right. 

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever,  you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts. 

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close. 

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper. 

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry. 

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it. 

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place. 

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice. 

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off. 

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.” 

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong. 

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words. 

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here? 

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous. 

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

 “A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time. 

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.” 

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried? 

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him. 

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh. 

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[messedupfan]

Chapter 23

Summary: In order to have a dating life without the pressure of friends and family knowing, Wanda and Reader plan dates to meet at each other's places for romantic dinners. They tend to dance a lot.

A/n: Sorry y'all meant to post earlier today but had to walk Brady then had to make my food. I apologize for any and all errors, I haven't really been editing the chapters since I've gotten so busy but I LOVE this story sooooo much! I hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alarm on your phone wakes you. It’s early on a Monday morning. The sun isn’t up yet but you have to be in order to make it to the job site at your scheduled time. You wish you could sleep in, but unfortunately you won’t get to do that for the next four mornings. As you yawn and stretch, you feel a hand pull you down. “No,” she groans, making you laugh as you continue to stretch. 

“I have work,” you remind her as you fall against her. Feeling your normally tense body relax into her warm embrace. Your muscles feel like jelly and you want to close your eyes for just five more minutes. But you don’t. You just know that those five minutes could be ten, twenty, an hour, or worse.  

“No,” she repeats as she snuggles closer, her eyes remaining closed as she does. 

“And what do I tell your brother when he calls asking me why I’m not at work?” You ask as you adjust to look at her. Wanda’s hair is a mess, her face is a little puffier than usual, she looks serene. You cup her cheek with your hand and lightly rub your thumb back and forth. 

Wanda leans into your touch and a content sigh escapes her lips. “Easy, you don’t answer,” she smirks as she presses her lips to the palm of your jaw. You shake your head with a soft laugh.

“So I shouldn’t tell him that his twin is refusing to let me leave her bed?” you tease and Wanda scrunches her face. She pushes you back and you grin.

“Gross, he’ll think we’re doing a lot more than snuggling and sleeping,” she covers her face as she shakes her head. Then she finally opens her eyes. “Besides, I think that goes against that whole keeping this between us thing.” 

You lean in and kiss her cheek, “Exactly, I’m going. Have a good day,” you swiftly move out of the warmth of the cozy bed and her arms and Wanda pouts as you do but she doesn’t put up more of a resistance. She sighs with a slight disappointment this time as the bed grows cool in your absence. She climbs out and stretches as she wakes her body up. 

“Are you going to come back tonight?” She asks as she shamelessly watches you undress. The two of you are still waiting to be physically intimate as the two of you continue to develop the emotional intimacy of the relationship in order to build a strong foundation. But as her eyes roam your body, she is beginning to forget why the two of you need to wait in the first place. 

You are lost in thought as you change and consider your answer. Uncertain if today is the day you had to pick up Rachel and Jean from the airport. It has been two weeks since the disastrous first date. You and Wanda had your second date on Wednesday of that week then your third and fourth that weekend. The week she had her boys, you needed to work on finishing orders for your side business and Wanda would sneak in from time to time to chat and maybe the two of you even made out a couple of times. 

Last night wasn’t a date outside of the house. It wasn’t even meant to be a date. It was a last minute invite and you weren’t up for much because you were working all Saturday and most of yesterday working for a delivery service to help catch up on the bills. “Um, let me check my,” you pick up your phone and look up the flight itinerary for Rachel and Jean. “Yeah, I can come back tonight. I don’t pick up the girls until Thursday… morning? Ugh, that’s going to be brutal. I need to warn your brother.” 

Wanda shakes her head with a disgusted expression. “Please, just say boss. It’s hurting my brain how much you have to run by my brother.” 

You smile and nod as you pull your work polo over your head and arms and straighten yourself out. “Alright, that’s not a problem,” you walk across the room towards her and wrap your arms around her and give her a soft kiss on the lips. “I love you,” you say. 

Wanda scrunches her nose as she catches a whiff of your sour morning breath, but she kisses you again anyway. “I love you and your stinky breath.” 

You wink at her with a wide grin before walking to her bathroom to use the toothbrush that you left here the last time.  You start brushing your teeth and she follows to brush her teeth at the sink next to the one you’re standing in front of. When the two of you exchange a glance, you wink at her and she shakes her head. 

~~~~

Wanda looks at her phone as she receives the last message you’ll be sending her for the rest of the week. Even though it’s the middle of the summer, you are finally taking Rachel on the annual camping trip. “Why do you look upset?” Pietro asks as he tries to look over her shoulder to get a glance at her screen just in case it’s a message from Vision. 

Wanda is quick to hide her phone. “Dude! Mind your business!” She says with the screen of her phone pressed against her chest. 

“Dude? Really? What are we, twelve?” He shakes his head and grabs a handful of chips from the bowl on the coffee table. 

“Yeah, when you’re trying to look at my phone and you’re eating like that!” Wanda doubles down and Pietro slows down his chewing but his mouth is still full of chips, giving him chipmunk cheeks. 

“What?” He asks dumbly. Wanda shakes her head and looks back at her phone as she tries to think of a response to your message before it’s too late. “This is my house, you know?” Pietro states as he adds the rest of the fist full of chips into his mouth. 

Wanda is visiting to finally meet her new niece. She has spent a couple hours doting over the baby while she anxiously checked her phone for messages from you. Now her boys are with their aunt, she is watching them as they each take turns holding the baby in the rocking chair in the nursery. Pietro told her that you had gifted it and Wanda recalls watching you make pieces of the chair but she doesn’t remember seeing you take it out. But it was a sturdy and comfortable chair. She had to hide how proud it made her feel to see the chair you made actually being used and shown off. 

“It still amazes me that you ever found someone to love all of this,” Wanda gestures with her hand waving it in a circle of her brother's face and body. 

“Whatever, you’re just jealous that I found someone I can be myself with,” he says as he puts his boots on top of the coffee table while crossing his legs. 

“Pietro! Get your shoes off of my coffee table!” Crystalia shouts from the other room. “And wipe it down!” She orders. 

Pietro quickly drops his feet to the ground and sits up. “Yes dear!” He shouts back as he gets up from the couch. Wanda watches with amusement and Pietro looks at his twin once he’s standing. “Not a word,” he warns. Wanda, unable to help herself, makes a whip sound as she flicks her wrist with a smirk. “I’m going to remember that,” he says as he walks away.

~~~~

The day you come back from the camping trip with Rachel, you're happy to find that Jean has moved out of your apartment. You find your room clean and without a bunch of overflowing luggages scattered on the floors. The bed is made with clean sheets. Your bathroom is clean with no evidence of makeup or used feminine products. The apartment no longer smells like Jean’s perfume. That was the best part. It almost felt like she was spraying it around as a substitute for an air freshener. So to have the apartment smelling like anything but her is a real relief. Rachel is happy to have a clean room to return to as well. The apartment doesn't feel as cramped with the bed in the living room finally folded away. 

You call Jean to find out if you should drop Rachel off at her house. But she doesn't pick up the first couple of times. When she finally does, she is irritated and breathless. “Hey, we're back. Do you want me to bring Rach over to you?” You ask, keeping your voice low in case Jean doesn't want Rachel at her house yet. 

“Oh shit what day is it?” Jean says and you can hear Anna giggle in the back stating that she doesn't know and doesn't care. You pinch the bridge of your nose as you let her know that it's Sunday. “Right, right, it's my week now. Okay. Yeah, give me…” she mutes herself for a couple of minutes. “Okay, okay, give us a couple of hours. I'll, we'll, the house will be ready. We need to clean up.” She is panting between words and you have to refrain from groaning out of disgust. But it's better off that she's jumping into bed with her wife instead of trying to seduce you. 

The night she kissed you wasn't the only time she made a pass at you. She tried a few nights later, while you were asleep. She crawled into the uncomfortable sofa bed with you and snuggled up against you. Her touch woke you up almost instantly and not in the way she preferred. You were repulsed by the idea of ever being with her ever again. You had to explain that to her in detail a couple of times before she finally understood to leave you alone. 

You shudder at the memory once you hang up the phone. You tell Rachel to take a nap but you don't tell her that you'll be taking her to her mom's house. You don't want to excite her, she needs to be resting. You step out to your balcony to call Wanda. 

“Hello?” Wanda sounds a little out of breath herself. 

“Hey,” you say as you try to figure out what she could be doing. 

“Y/n! Oh my goodness! You're back earlier than I thought you'd be!” She says excitedly. “Sorry, I'm on my treadmill. I didn't check to see who was calling.” You can hear her press a couple of buttons and the soft hum of the machine in the background slowly comes to an end. “Hey you, how are you doing?” She asks as she is catching her breath. You wish that you could be the reason she is breathless. You wish you were the one entangled with Wanda warning Jean that you need some time before she can drop off Rachel. 

“I'm doing good, it was a long drive. I can't wait to see you,” you say as you lean against the railing of the balcony. You look out to the busy view that the location of your apartment building provides you. 

“That's sweet,” Wanda sighs and you can hear the smile in her voice. “Do you think you'll get to?” 

“Jean moved out when I was gone so I was thinking,” you check over your shoulder to be certain that Rachel isn't within ear shot. “After I drop Rachel off with her mom, maybe I can stop by and see you?” 

Wanda takes a moment to answer, you can hear her swallowing her water for a moment. You wait kind of nervously before but maintaining patience. “Just stop by or do you think you can spend the night too?” 

Your smile widens. “I could be convinced but I don't know.” 

“I missed you,” she says softly. “Come on,” her volume lifts slightly as she pleads with you. “Spend the night with me. Hell, spend the week with me.” 

“That's a little fast, don't you think?” The words fall out of you before you could stop them. You're a little surprised that you're thinking about slowing things down between the two of you. All week, the only thing you could think about was being in her bed with her. Laughing with her. Crying with her. Playfully arguing with her. You laugh a little to try and play it off as a joke but you aren't certain if you meant the statement or not. 

“Well, considering that we're still waiting,” Wanda speaks slowly, dragging out her words. “I mean, I suppose it's a little fast to have you move in for a week,” she goes quiet for a moment. You are biting your nail on your thumb as you wait for her to continue. “But you know what? I don't care,” her voice sounds more certain, more confident. “I want you here. I want you to go to work and come back here. I want to make dinners with you. I want you here as much as possible.” 

You chuckle softly as you think about it. But then decide not to overthink it. You've spent too much time thinking. You want to take this small leap with Wanda. “Alright, I'll pack my bags then,” you state calmly and confidently. 

“Wait, are you serious?” She sounds slightly surprised but mostly excited. 

“Yeah, I'm serious,” you confirm. “I need to go if I'm going to sneak my bags inside the truck before Rachel can ask me about anything. I'll see you soon. I love you,” you say as you hold the handle of the door so you can enter the bedroom. 

“Okay, yeah, I'll see you soon. I love you,” her excitement is contagious as you feel a rush of energy and joy. You can't rid yourself of your wide grin as you hang up and start to get ready for your week with Wanda. 

~~~~

“...’Cause you feel like home. You’re like a dream come true,”  you hold Wanda close with your eyes closed as the two of you dance to the song. The two of you were enjoying dinner together at her home. She hasn’t let you take her out since you talked to her about your financial situation in depth. Wanda refused to let you do anything to spoil her, especially after how much you spent on her for the first date. You tried to assure her that you budgeted for it but she was adamant that the dates be affordable and that they didn’t need to be of any extravagance. 

“Expensive dates aren’t what makes a relationship great anyway. I think we both know that by now. I just want to be able to spend time with you,” she assured you when you were trying to assure her that you don't mind spending money on her. 

As the two of you continue to dance around the living room you can't help but think of the first time you and Wanda danced together. In the backyard with the sun setting and a bottle and a half of wine in your systems. Or was it two bottles? You don't remember, but it was a minor detail. What you do remember in detail was how much you wanted to kiss her. How much you wanted to feel connected to her. How much you wanted to be her partner. Now here you are, dancing with her once again. You still feel that way except now, you can kiss her when you want. And you do. Now you feel more connected to her than ever. Now you consider yourself her partner. 

“Can you believe it? Our kids are starting middle school soon?” Wanda whispers as her eyes fall on a framed baby photo of her boys as she looks over your shoulder. 

You shake your head as you continue to sway with her. “No, I can't believe it. I still keep thinking that Rachel is too young to be moving on to middle school. But she won't stop reminding me with how excited she is about it.” 

Wanda takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I keep eavesdropping on the boys because Tommy is constantly talking to Billy about all of the hot girls that are going to be at their middle school.” 

You scrunch your face, “Please, he hangs out with my daughter. I need to be able to sleep at night. I beg you, tell me you're lying.” 

“Oh come on. They made an entire plan to become siblings. I doubt Tommy or Billy will be looking at Rachel in that way,” Wanda says in a reassuring tone. But there's a hint of doubt in her words because she can't be certain of something like that until you and her reveal the relationship to the kids.

“Oh I'm not worried about Billy. But now I'm going to keep a close eye on Tommy,” you say jokingly and Wanda stops moving with you. 

“What?” She steps back slightly. “What do you mean you're not worried about Billy?” 

You shrug and shake your head. “No particular reason.” 

“Come on,” she presses. 

“No, it's nothing. It's just, I don't think Rachel would be his type,” you say as you try to steer away from the conversation. “It's getting late, we should get ready for bed.” You say as you step away and check your watch then find the remote to shut off the music. 

“Why wouldn't Rachel be his type?” She doesn’t want to let this go because lately she’s been feeling a little disconnected from her sons. A comment like that gives her the impression that you know something she doesn’t. “What do you know?” Wanda says as she follows closely behind. 

“Nothing, I don't know anything,” you say as you shut off lights on the way towards the stairs. 

“The way you're saying that makes me feel like you know something,” Wanda continues to pester you for information all the way to the bedroom. You sigh and sit on the edge of the bed. Wanda stands in front of you as she waits to hear the answers she's looking for, not allowing you to dismiss the topic of conversation. 

“Remember when we sat the kids down and explained my pronouns and what being non-binary means to me?” You ask as you take Wanda’s hands into each of yours. She nods as her eyebrows start to crease. “Well, Billy has had some…” you trail off as you try to search through your vocabulary that will best describe your recent conversations with Billy. “Curiosities lately. I don't know anything for certain. I'm not saying that he is anything. I'm not outting him because he hasn't confirmed anything. The questions could mean absolutely nothing. Just, prepare yourself. Billy might not be… I don't know how to put it. He might not be like Tommy.” 

Wanda pulls your interlocked hands up to cover her face. You're a little confused by her exasperated reaction. She’s dating you. She’s been with women in the past. Why would something like her son potentially being queer be upsetting to her. “He is going to have such a hard time at his father's house soon,” she mutters and that's when it clicks for you. She's not upset about her son's sexuality because she wants him to be heterosexual. She's concerned for his well-being in his father's home. 

“Did he know that you were queer?” You ask, curious of how they got married if Vision wasn’t as open minded as Wanda. 

“Yeah,” she sighs as she drops your laced hands down to her sides. “Don't judge me,” she starts as she keeps her head down, “in my defense I was in my early twenties.” She takes a deep breath and bites her lips. “But he's… he liked that about me because he thinks it's okay for women to be a little more sexually open because he finds it hot. And I didn’t realize how misogynistic and homophobic he was until we found out that we were having two boys.” 

You nod slowly as you start to grow worried for Billy as well. You remember how unaccepting your father was of the way you acted while you were growing up. You even remember the advice he'd given you when you told him about getting Jean pregnant. That he wanted you to quit being so “frilly��� and to start acting like the child he wanted. That life is already confusing enough for a child, they don’t need to have a parent that lives a confusing lifestyle. 

He's only now starting to come around to the idea of you not being the gender conforming person he always wanted you to be. But you could handle his criticisms and his comments about you. Billy is a sweet and sensitive boy and Vision is a lot tougher on his boys than your father ever was. 

“What do you think we should do?” You ask Wanda as you let go of her hands and stand up to wrap your arms around her and pull her body close. Wanda melts in your arms and with her eyes closed she leans her forehead against your shoulder. She breathes you in as your words hit her. Just the simple way you asked the question made her feel more supported than years in her marriage did. 

You rub her back as you wait for her answer. Your mind races with solutions but none of them being helpful or worth suggesting. “I don't know,” Wanda finally says. “I guess it's just…” she shakes her head and leans back to look at you. “It's just one of those things that's out of my hands. I can't keep Billy away from his father. And I hardly know what's going on at that house. He's finally convinced them to stop telling me what goes on over there. So, I'm just going to have to be sure that he knows he can be free to be himself here.” 

You nod and press your lips to her forehead before leaning your forehead against hers. “He's going to be okay,” you assure her. Wanda’s hands move to your shoulders and gives them a light squeeze.

“I hope you're right,” she says with a lump forming in her throat.

~~~~

You are sitting with Steve and Bucky in Steve's apartment. You have finally forgiven Steve for not talking to you about his relationship with Peggy and Bucky and Natasha. After starting your private relationship with Wanda, you could understand why he was private with the development in his life. 

Steve was going through a lot that he wasn't sure he ever wanted to be public. First, he and Peggy had given up on the relationship. But they were sticking together for appearances but they were miserable around each other. You weren't the best at giving relationship advice and completely missed that Steve wanted out of the relationship whenever he tried to talk to you about it. 

Then he met Bucky and felt an attraction that he'd never felt before towards a man. It confused him and while he dealt with those feelings, Peggy could feel him pulling away and eventually she got tired of fooling herself. They were private people as it was so there wasn't a big announcement of their split of any kind. That's where you thought that your friend had been cheating on his partner of several years. 

You felt like a shit when you realized that you weren't there for your friends as they navigated new feelings towards one another. But Steve and Bucky assured you that they didn't bring it up to you because of the problems you were facing at the time. And that they preferred to talk about it with each other. Then Darcy caught on and it was easier to come out to her since she didn't make a big deal out of it. 

Then you asked about Bucky’s girlfriend because he was also in a relationship with a woman by the time he met Steve. That's when he revealed that they were still figuring that out because Steve also had feelings towards Natasha. But they all felt weird about the “throuple” label. Steve especially wasn't prepared to deal with the backlash of coming out as possibly bi-sexual and then add being possibly polyamorous to that. He was already disowned from the majority of his family for dropping out of the military. He couldn't risk losing the family he had left. So, officially, he is single. But unofficially, he is seeing both Bucky and Natasha. Sometimes separately and sometimes together. 

“No way, Nat and Wanda?” You ask as you pop another beer open. You are shocked to hear about the relationship from someone other than Wanda. But you knew she felt some shame over the amount of people she was hooking up with. You try to tell her that it doesn't bother you but she still feels a type of way about the behavior. You hope that when you're finally able to be physically intimate with her that you'll be able to help her see that it wasn't wrong for her to explore her sexuality the way she had. 

Bucky nods, “Oh yeah, she told me everything. I couldn't believe it either. I mean, I've only met Wanda less than a handful of times but I never thought she was the type. She broke poor Nat’s heart.” 

Your eyes widen, “Really? Wow, I had no idea. I thought they seemed a little weird towards each other at the New Year's Eve party. But honestly, knowing her ex-husband, I thought maybe Nat had been with him and Wanda knew.” You tip the bottle against your lips as you make a mental note to talk to Wanda about Natasha. “It's crazy how much we can miss about each other’s lives if we're not on each other twenty four seven.”

Steve and Bucky share a laugh as they agree and drink their beers. “Yeah, I think Darcy mentioned that Jean was living with you for some time. How was that?” Steve asks, he's never gotten along with Jean and he never bothered to get to know Anna. Although she would try to approach him in conversation at gatherings that you'd host. That's where Peggy would come in and either take over the conversation or come up with an excuse to get him away from her. 

You groan at the memory as you nod to confirm. “It was starting to feel like she was never going to leave. It wasn't a fair situation and I was not about to let Anna get the house. If they went through with a divorce. But they seemed to have patched things up and Anna is treating Rachel like she's her daughter again. I don't know. The whole thing has put a bad taste in my mouth but I can't do anything about what they do. I can only do my best to protect Rachel.” 

Steve shakes his head and mutters insults about the women to himself. You don't catch half of it and you don't ask him to repeat himself. Bucky shakes his head and scoffs. “I couldn't do it. You're a tough one for putting up with all of that, Y/n,” Bucky commends you as he puts his hand on your shoulder. 

You shrug, “It's not easy but that's what you agree to when you have kids. When there was a choice, that is.” All three of you shake your heads and take a sip of beer before you continue. “I don't know that I'd recommend it but Rachel is great. She's far from being the problem. Every family has their issues and I guess that's what makes them family.” You sigh deeply as you look at the screen. The three of you were watching some show on a streaming network that had just released its most recent season. Well, more like it's releasing its most recent season weekly. You don't like that they started to do that but it did help bring you and Steve back together because it's a show that the two of you have watched together since it came out. Now you're here every week on the night the latest episode is uploaded. The three of you pay attention to the rest of the episode as you push away the image of Natasha and Wanda out of your mind. 

~~~~

“I just want to know why you didn't tell me it was Nat that you were seeing last summer,” you ask as you follow Wanda to your bedroom. She wanted to see what it would be like to live with you for the week in your space. It's been a few weeks since that night at Steve's apartment. You haven't brought it up to Wanda until now because you were keeping it out of your mind. Then, somehow, you don't really remember how… it got brought up. 

“Because, it's embarrassing! Besides, you don't see me asking about everyone you ever slept with!” Wanda says as she waves her hands around. 

“That's because you've already met them all,” you remind her with the same energy she was throwing at you.

“So what, are you calling me a whore now?” She asks with a pointed look. 

“What?! How the hell did you get that idea?” You are thrown off by the accusation. 

“You're not denying it,” Wanda states defensively. 

You shake your head. “No, I'm not calling you a whore because I don't think you're a whore. I just…” you take a moment to think before you speak and make things worse. “You don't have to talk about every hook up. I would just like a heads up whenever I meet them. Or at least if I meet them around you. Like what happened with that one waitress. Did I get upset with you and call you a whore then?” You use your first date as an example because you felt like you handled that pretty well. 

Wanda looks away and bites her lips in thought. “No, but how do I know that you weren't thinking it?” She asks as crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Because, Wanda, you are supposed to trust me when I tell you that I love you and that I don't judge you. Especially for things you did before we started dating.” You step closer in an attempt to disarm her. You gently place both of your hands on her shoulders and gaze into her big green eyes full of insecurities. “I don't judge you, Wanda. I don't think you're a whore, Wanda. I love you, Wanda.” You move your hands up to cup her cheeks and hold her head in your hands. 

Wanda melts to your touch and untangles her arms. She puts her hands on your waist and clutches the fabric of your shirt. Tears spring to her eyes as you maintain your eye contact. Your tone not wavering once. She has no choice but to listen and believe you. 

“You better mean that,” she says as her tears start to uncontrollably fall. You pull her close in a tight embrace to hold her while she breaks down. Free to cry in front of you and process her emotions in your arms. You love her and show her as much as you continue to listen and try to understand where she was coming from when she got upset. 

~~~~

Pietro sits back in his lounge chair as he observes you and Wanda at the grill. It's the end of summer and Wanda thought it would be a good idea to host an end of summer party for the kids. She invited everyone in her inner circle. Agatha and her son Nicholas, Carol and Val, him and his family, and you and your daughter. You and Wanda were chatting quietly to one another while Wanda grilled the meat options. There was something different about the two of you. He couldn't put his finger on it. 

Crystalia bounces Emma in her arms as she returns to Pietro's side. “What are you staring at?” She asks her husband as she sits on the chair beside his. 

“Do they seem… closer?” He asks his wife. Pietro wasn't typically one to gossip or speculate but he knows he can trust his wife with his thoughts. 

Crystalia shakes her head. “Oh no, don't go there again. Come on, it was bad enough you lost money over a stupid bet. Just, leave your sister alone. You know how she can be. Even if there is something to talk about, she's not going to do it if you go badgering her about her personal life.” Then she looks over at you and Wanda and notices the way you're standing close to her in-law. She catches onto the way the two of you smile at each other. How Wanda's eyes flit to your lips and how yours do the same. “Huh, at best they're hooking up,” she says to confirm her husband's suspicions. 

Pietro sits up and takes off his sunglasses. “So you see it too?” He looks like he's about to get up and say something to the couple they're spying on. So Crystalia places Emma in Pietro's hands. “Crys, I can't just let this go. Y/n is my friend, yes, but they're also my employee. This… I have to put a stop to this or do something.” He looks down at the little girl in his hands as she giggles and slobbers on herself. He grins at her then gives his wife a pointed look.

“Pietro, Y/n is your employee but Wanda isn't. They're not breaking any rules. Besides, we don't know anything for certain. Just,” she sighs and gets settled into her seat. “Just relax and leave them alone. They're both adults. And it's not like you haven't said before that you would be thrilled if they got together because you like Y/n and think they'd be perfect together. Honestly, if they did get together, it'd probably be your fault to begin with.” 

Pietro makes a face at the accusation and Emma giggles as she reaches out to touch her father's face. “What are you talking about?” 

Crystalia shrugs, “When Rachel was having problems in school, you suggested that Y/n put her in the same school our nephews attend. And you know how involved that school requires parents to be.” 

Pietro shrugs, “It's a really good school. That doesn't mean anything.” 

Crystalia doesn't buy it. “Oh yeah? Was it really a coincidence that you started to put together company events right after Wanda and Vision split up? No one invited their siblings to those things unless they work for the company but you were constantly inviting Wanda.” 

“She was having a hard time. I thought she could’ve used a reason to get out of the house. She only went to one of those things anyway. And Y/n couldn't even show up to that event,” Pietro defends and his wife scowls. 

“You can't remember our anniversary but you can remember that?” Crystalia asks, only to prove her point. Pietro shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “When Wanda needed work to be done on the house, you asked Y/n to help you. I know you keep saying that it's because they're the best worker or whatever, but you literally could've patched up the wall by yourself. And you would've never acted on extending the house without the appropriate permits the way you did.” 

Pietro shakes his head as he continues to deny this theory his wife has about him essentially being a puppet master for you and his sister. “Okay, I don't think they're together, you just made me realize how crazy I sounded. Because you sound completely mental.” 

“Don't call me mental in front of our daughter,” Crystalia warns. 

“I'm sorry, you're right. Mommy isn't mental Emma,” he whispers to his daughter. She pats his face and starts to tug on his facial hair. He chuckles as he looks up at his wife. “But you've got to admit, you're giving me a lot more credit than I'm worth. You really think I'm that thoughtful?” Crystalia can't help but agree with that statement and decides to drop the subject altogether. 

~~~~

You and Wanda are lounging on her sofa. You are lying vertically on the part of the couch that extends forward. Wanda is lying horizontally along the length of the sofa with her head in your lap. You have your fingers in her hair as you periodically massage her scalp. As the movie begins to lose her attention, she looks up at you and starts to watch you watch the movie. You're zeroed in and completely focused on the plot. She doesn't know how you could find such a movie interesting but she doesn't mind watching you this way instead. 

You don't realize that Wanda's focus is on you until you feel something lightly tickling your stomach. You look down and notice that Wanda is trying to lift your shirt up. “What are you doing?” You ask, startling her slightly. She looks up at you with wide eyes from being caught.

“Nothing,” she shrugs as she removes her hand from your shirt and looks up at you. 

“You wanted to watch this movie, remember?” You remind her with a teasing tone.

“Yeah, well, I lost interest,” she says as she sits up. She moves so that she's sitting on her knees. Wanda bites her bottom lip as she looks at you. “Besides, we've watched plenty of movies together. I think I'm in the mood for something else.” She says as she inches closer to you. She puts her hand on your chest and you raise your eyebrows at her. 

“Do you want to put on some music and dance?” You ask, not wanting to read too much into her touch and actions. But she shakes her head as she maintains eye contact and moves to lock her arms around your neck. “Do you think we're ready for that?” You ask as you catch onto what she's getting at. 

“I'm ready,” she says as she kisses your cheek. “Are you?” She says as she crawls onto your lap. You don't have to give her much of a verbal answer because you can feel that burning desire growing in your body. A desire you haven't felt for anyone before. Even the desire you had for Jean when you were a teenager pales in comparison. You kiss Wanda’s lips and place your hands on her hips. 

“I'm ready,” you say in a harsh whisper. Wanda giggles as she had already gathered that much. She has her hands on your cheeks to keep you close and pull you in to continue kissing you. As her hands hold you steady, your hands begin to explore her body. Your touch is almost as greedy as a teenager experiencing something like this for the first time. Yes, you've touched her body many times since the two of you have started dating. But not like this. Not without restrictions. You are free to explore her however you want and that notion has you aimless with excitement. You don't know where to start first or where to keep your hands. You have to remind yourself that there is plenty of time to explore every inch of her. If not tonight then another night. 

Wanda breaks the kiss and crawls off of your lap and stands up. She looks down at you with a grin. She tips her head towards the stairs. “Come on,” she invites you with her hand out to you. 

You shuffle off of the sofa and rise. You take her hand and all her to guide her towards her room to finally cross the line both of you have been painstakingly avoiding until now.

Chapter 24

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[wingzie]

Live Reactions to Jikook and Are You Sure?

There was a tweet that gained a fair amount of backlash, stating that Jikooker’s were over-hyping Are You Sure? and making it something that it wasn’t. That the show was just the two members filming some trips together. That is indeed a very loose summary of Are You Sure? But it is missing something vital: Context.

Those that have seen the Chapter 2 Timeline for Jikook will know how busy they were over the last few years, both wanting to focus on music for different reasons. Either to share their personal stories or to challenge themselves. They worked so hard and grew in their own ways, for which I am very proud of them. We also knew that Jungkook was sick just before the US episodes, but I don’t think we truly knew HOW sick he was until we saw the behinds in I Am Still. Jimin and Jungkook were also able to organise these trips amongst their busy schedules, reminding me of the clip of Jikook on the sofa from 2018. This is something they clearly wanted and planned.

The show itself is a reflection of how close Jimin and Jungkook are. There are so many scenes that are perfect examples of their dynamics. We can also trace patterns of their behaviours from previous years to Are You Sure. They have not changed and, in a way, Jimin and Jungkook going through the buddy system process is a very “them” thing to do. There was an extra appreciation that they went together and would continue to give each other support, as they have done throughout their lives.

However, not everyone is aware of their history if they haven’t seen all the content. There is an obvious gap of knowledge, of BTS and the different members individually and together. Not knowing that Tae and Hobi went around Amsterdam together at night with their film crew. Or that Jin went to an amusement park with staff. Who they are as people is just as important as the music and shooting they do. If anything, they are interlinked. And it shouldn’t take the most recent content for people to recognize that. Though that person’s tweet was rather obnoxious, I am always pleasantly surprised by how many did actually talk about the series as soon as each episode was aired. I have nearly finished with the Live Reactions for each episode and there are so many hyping it up or their bond, whilst being somewhat sentimental about them. The series had a certain rawness to it too, as we know what was looming in their minds at the time and where they are now. We saw their different emotions on the topic from the US to Jeju to Sapporo. The added emotional tug is that Jimin and Jungkook enlisted together using the buddy system, something they weren’t aware if they were successful or not until halfway through filming. 

It’s not just the travel show that gained attention either. I still see recent tweets discussing a possible Jikook sub-unit, due to the “Keep Going” phase in the Who MV and the Are You Sure teasers. There were also a lot of people who correctly guessed that Jimin’s favourite food was “Tteokbokki by JK.” These discussions were mentioned several times (even now) about content right in front of us. The same can be said for when Jungkook showed Jimin his newly shaved head and the recent Weverse posts on the day before Hobi’s return. We all see the same things, and a lot of the time we actually react the same way. It's something we can't help, because it's Jikook and it's who they are.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  steddieas_shegoes! @steddieas-shegoes has 382 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and 355 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@starryeyedjanai recommends the following works by @steddieas-shegoes:

call me sunshine, send me to space

we'd shake the frame of your car

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

driver roll up the partition please

"Mickala is a PILLAR in this fandom. She's doing microfics, she's doing multiple month-long challenges at the same time, she's writing a big bang that I am frothing at the mouth over reading soon. She's doing it ALL!!!! She's written an absurd amount of words in such a short amount of time and I am just in awe of her 💕💕💕" -- @starryeyedjanai

Below the cut, @steddieas-shegoes answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Because my love for Steve Harrington could no longer be contained, and neither could Eddie’s. Because have you seen those two? Look at them. Keep looking at them. They’re so!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

This list is longer than any of us have the time to read, but I will say that enemies to lovers or exes to lovers has been hitting the spot hard lately. I’m also a sucker for a good modern au, like texting the wrong number or rockstar Eddie and otherwise famous Steve.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

At the heart of everything I write, they’re stupid in love. Whether they know it or not, whether they say it or not, they are. I think my favorite tag to use is idiots to lovers or idiots in love because it’s true. They’re just dumb for each other and it’s so fun to write from every angle.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Okay my absolute all time favorite fic of any fandom I have ever read anything in is Tuesday's Gone With the Wind - Chapter 1 - thisapplepielife - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]. It changed me from the inside out. I think about this fic every single day, sometimes multiple times a day.  But I do also have to say my very, very close second would be start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket. There is no better Wayne fic, there could never be a better Wayne fic. If you love Wayne, and you love Eddie, and you love Steve, and you love Steddie, this is the fic to read.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I tend to avoid writing heavy angst of any kind, mostly because I tend to also avoid reading it unless it has a happy ending. But I have two things currently in my notes app that are very angsty, one of them would possibly have a more open/slightly unhappy ending, and I might be brave and do it. It’s the one area that I know I haven’t delved into.

What is your writing process like?

There’s a process? You guys are following a process? Oh shit, I didn’t know. But seriously, the process looks a lot like: *has idea *types what should be headcanon of said idea *headcanon becomes 2500 words of actual story *posts I really just go with the flow. I don’t edit 90% of the time, I don’t have a beta reader (except for my bang fic), I rarely even go in with a full-fledged plan. Whatever happens, happens.

Do you have any writing quirks?

If I write Steve with a migraine in something, it usually means I was suffering from a migraine at the time. I almost always give him similar symptoms to mine, though I usually dramatize them a little for the hurt/comfort of it all. They say write what you know and boy do I know migraines.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I have only written a handful of chaptered fics, and I tried to follow as much of a schedule as I could, but I don’t. I get too excited and I end up just posting as soon as something is finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

This is a hard one. I am proud that I ever even posted the first thing I did. This was the first fandom I ever published anything in, and I was pretty nervous about sharing something I wrote in a rush on my notes app. But I think I’m most proud of call me sunshine, send me to space. It challenged me to take this one on, and while I know I probably wouldn’t write it the same if I were to write it now, I know that it will always be there as proof of how far you can come if you keep doing the thing.

How did you get the idea for call me sunshine, send me to space?

Uh…personal experience? I was getting a small tattoo and had my usual reaction and then went home and said to myself “Steve would end up in a situation about this” and then I wrote the situation. Which is actually how so much of my works start.

When writing call me sunshine, send me to space, what was something you didn’t expect?

The amount of love it’s gotten! It was still kind of my early days of posting on AO3 and I had only just started really interacting on tumblr, so it shocked me how quickly people started commenting and asking to be on the tag list. That fic is what “put me on the map” I guess, and is definitely responsible for all of the friendships I’ve made in the last year.

What inspired this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation?

A silly little headcanon I posted that got way out of hand in my thoughts and then on paper. We tend to lean more towards the single dad Steve thing, especially myself, but then I completely ran with the single dad Eddie thing, and a whole fic came out of it.

What was your favorite part to write from this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation?

This fic was my worst enemy for months. I was so busy in real life that I felt like I wasn’t able to give it the attention it deserved. I had a few favorite parts, but I think the first time Mia calls Steve ‘Mama’ is up there for sure. It kinda sets the tone for the whole fic that Steve is meant to be in their lives and this baby knows it before the rest of them.

How do/did you feel writing we'd shake the frame of your car?

Honestly, I was just trying to stick to as much of the prompts as possible. Since it was a gift for Sandy, I wanted to make sure it was the best gift I could give!

What was the most difficult part of writing driver roll up the partition please?

Keeping it on the shorter side! If it were up to me, ficlets like that would be 20k minimum, but because it was for an event and I tend to take on more than I can actually handle, it had to stay short.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I have a lot of lines that I really love that I am always in awe that I managed to write. But I think I am most excited about the scene in my upcoming bang fic, the scene that came to me before anything else for this fic and inspired the whole thing.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My bang fic bear hugs starts posting on September 27th. If you like hockey, single dad steve, and friends to lovers, this is THE fic for you. I also co-mod for steddie microfic, which is a monthly exact word count challenge with a new prompt and word count every month; I run Steddie Song Fics, a monthly writing challenge that changes every month with new songs, word count limits, genres, and more; I run Steddie Holiday Drabbles, which is a daily drabble event that takes place in December, with multiple pop-up events throughout the year; and if this posts in time, I am running Steddie Smutty September, an 18+ only event that will have weekly writing and art prompts for the month of September.    

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you to whoever nominated me, and thank you to everyone who supports me and other authors by liking, commenting, reblogging, and recommending fics!

Thank you to our author, @steddieas-shegoes, and our nominator, @starryeyedjanai! See more of steddieas_shegoes's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: explicit smut (I don't know how much detail I should go into without giving too much away, but let's call it porn with a sprinkling of plot), language

Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

The sun was bright as it beamed through the window, washing over your face and making you squint before you even opened your eyes. You groaned and rolled over, wondering how you had forgotten to close the curtains last night when you realized you weren't in bed, but on the couch in the living room. You cracked one eye open and looked around, spotting the wine glasses on the coffee table and the fire that had gone out long ago. Opening both eyes, you sat up and looked around the living room, then peered into the kitchen when you didn't see Joel. Looking down, you noticed he had covered you with a blanket at some point. You pushed it to the side and stood up to stretch, the side with your injury responding with a quick jolt, reminding you to take it easy.

You wandered into the kitchen looking for any sign of Joel. Anxiety set in as you wondered if he regretted last night, that maybe he was drunk, and you thought it meant more than it did. You paused at the bottom of the stairs when you heard water splashing from the bathroom off the master bedroom. He's probably just washing up.

You whipped your head around trying to remember where you put your backpacks yesterday, then spotted them in the den. You dug through your pack until you found a half-used tube of toothpaste. You squirted a glob onto your pointer finger and swished it around your teeth, cheeks and tongue as you walked to the kitchen to take a swig of water from your canteen and rinsed.

Trying to keep your nerves in check, you approached the stairs and slowly made your way up, listening as the sound of water stopped. You heard fabric rustling on the other side of the door when you entered the bedroom. The attempt at calming your nerves was a lost cause as you felt your heart hammering in your chest. You looked meekly around the bedroom, unsure what to do with yourself as he finished up. You wanted to sit on the bed, but you didn't want to look like you were just out there waiting for him to come fuck you. Finally, you decided to go into the closet where you kept some spare clothes so you could pretend to be busy folding them. You turned away from the bathroom and took one step in the direction of the closet when the door swung open.

He must have washed his hair because it was wet and slicked back. He had put a flannel on with his usual jeans, but he left the top two buttons undone on his shirt, giving you a peek at his tanned chest. Your mouth hung open as you took him in before finally meeting his heated stare.

"Hi," you murmured, the tension palpable. Joel took two long strides and grabbed your face in his hands, pulling you up to him as his lips found yours. He sighed against your mouth when he felt you return the kiss, massaging your lips on his, then granted you access when your teeth grazed his lower lip. He walked you backwards until you hit the wall of the bedroom, his tongue hungrily exploring your mouth, making you moan. He lowered his hands from your face to reach down and grip the backs of your thighs before yanking both your legs up to wrap around his waist, pinning you between him and the wall.

You squeaked in surprise and grabbed onto his broad shoulders to keep you balanced, your tongue swirling with his as one of his hands slid up your thigh to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze while his other hand braced himself on the wall behind you. He ground his hips into your aching core, making you break the kiss and cry out. Even through the thick fabric of your jeans, the contact sent a jolt from your cunt to your fingertips. You gasped as his mouth latched onto your neck, nipping up and down your throat followed by soft licks to soothe any pain he may have caused.

"Joel," you panted, raking your nails through his wet hair and gently over his scalp, making his eyes roll back in his head as he moaned against your neck. "Please," you begged, grinding your hips against his to try to find some relief. He removed his hand from the wall and lifted you up, turning you both around and walked the few steps to the bed, tossing you down to land on your back. He stood between your legs at the end of the bed, panting and staring down at you all sprawled out for him. You reached down to unbutton your jeans and shimmied out of them, tossing them on the floor. His gaze immediately locked onto your underwear, which were nothing special, just a pair of light blue cotton panties, but your arousal was evident by the darkness spreading at the center, making him groan loudly and palm his erection over his jeans.

You leaned back on your elbows with your knees bent and legs partially spread. His gaze flicked up from your pussy to look you in the eye. His lips were parted as his chest heaved, and his pupils were blown wide as he ran his eyes down your body again, drinking you in. Even with your shirt still on, you were beginning to feel self-conscious under his stare.

"Don't you want me?" you asked him sweetly, making him tear his eyes off your body and back onto your face. Lips still parted, he nodded eagerly, and palmed his cock again. He had yet to say a single word to you and you were growing impatient.

"Then tell me," you said, watching as he swallowed roughly, "tell me how badly you want me."

He growled as he leaned forward on the bed, placing his fists on either side of you to hold himself up, and gently pressed his lips against yours again, slowly applying more pressure to your mouth as he inched forward, pushing you to lay flat on your back as he brought his knees to rest between your legs. He released your lips and lifted his head up to look at you, taking one of his hands still fisted next to you on the bed to gently cup your face. His gaze was soft, and his eyes sparkled from the sun peeking through the curtains as he admired you. You sighed and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," he croaked, his voice thick with emotion. You opened your eyes to meet his gaze as he continued, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I wasted so much time, fought it for so long," he said, shaking his head, "I never thought I could feel this way again, then you showed up, talkin' back to me in that meeting in front of everyone."

He smiled at the memory, running his thumb over your soft lips.

"Couldn't get you out of my damn head, you know that?" He leaned down to give your lips a tender kiss as you whimpered at his sweet words. "Then the world went to hell, and there we were, protectin' each other, carin' for each other." You smiled up at him now, trying not to ruin the moment with tears. You placed your hand over the one he held on to your face, rubbing circles over his damaged knuckles.

"I don't think I can put into words how badly I want you, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "But I promise you, I ain't gonna waste another second spent with you ever again."

"Joel," you rasped, desperately trying to hold back your tears as he lifted his head up, and you looked back and forth between his eyes. You snaked your hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss you, pouring all your emotions into every bite on his lip and flick of your tongue. Joel ran his hand down your side to the bottom of your shirt, pushing it up as he slid his hand up your stomach and over your ribs until he reached your bra. He tucked his fingers underneath the fabric to palm your breast gently before expertly rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You cried out at the sensation and tipped your head backwards, arching your back and pushing yourself into his hand further. He leaned back on his knees to lift your shirt over your head, followed quickly by your bra. You laid underneath him, almost completely exposed, while he was still fully clothed. You whined and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, preventing him from staring at the pink scars along your ribs.

He slid off the bed to quickly shed his jeans and flannel, leaving him in just his boxers as he crawled back on top of you, pressing his warm skin against your own. The air was making the arousal soaking through your underwear feel cold against your skin, and you shuddered. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and placed gentle nips along your collarbone. He held himself above you on one forearm next to your head while his free hand went back to cup your other breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers. You were pinned underneath him, hardly able to move, but you ran your hands up his arms, feeling his muscles twitching under your touch. Your hands landed on his shoulders, and when he gave your nipple a particularly harsh pinch, you dug your fingers into his muscles, rolling your head to the side and let out a yelp.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured against your throat. "Let me make it feel better."

He bent his head down to latch onto the sore spot, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the tip. You moaned, threading your fingers through his drying curls. He released you from his mouth, hovering just over your breast, and gently blew across the wetness he left on your skin. The shock of going from warm to cold made your nipples harden even more, to the point where it was almost painful.

"Fuck, Joel, please," you begged him as he placed gentle kisses along your sternum. His eyes shot up to your face, taking pride in how unraveled you had become under him. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, and you were struggling to catch your breath. He hummed against your skin. He wanted to give you what you wanted, but he didn't want to rush, either.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute, sweetheart. I've been waitin' a long time for this." he said, sighing as his fingers danced around your ribs. He froze when he felt the shiny, uneven skin of your scars from when you were stabbed. Stabbed when you saved his life.

He lifted his head to get a better look at the injury, gently running his fingers along the edges, marveling at the way goosebumps raised immediately from your skin. He leaned down to press a soft kiss along each of the scars you carried, murmuring to himself after each one.

"What did you say?" you panted, struggling to focus on anything other than his touch.

He ran the tip of his nose over the scars before answering.

"I'm so proud of you, you're so brave and beautiful," he whispered. "I'd do anythin' to keep you safe."

You groaned, wondering if it was possible to have an orgasm from just words alone. You beamed from the praise and lifted your hips up to try to find friction, your cunt pulsing with need. Joel noticed the movement and glanced down between you, deciding to finally give in.

He rolled off you to lay on his side, then wrapped his fingers around the edges of your underwear, tugging them down to your ankles, where you kicked them off the rest of the way. He eagerly climbed back over you and nudged your knees open wider so he could kneel between them. He sat back on his heels and, using his thumbs, pulled open your folds. His jaw hung open, and with a long, drawn-out groan, dragged his eyes back up to yours.

"This all for me?" He drawled, his cock throbbing in his boxers. All you could do was nod, your chest heaving in anticipation. "You're soaked, fuckin' hell, you poor thing," he said, looking back down at your dripping cunt. "D'you want me to take care of you?" he asked lowly, his eyes a darker shade of brown you've never seen on him before. You nodded again, still gasping for air. He reached his bandaged hand up and lightly gripped the underside of your chin.

"Tell me," he growled your previous words back to you, as he struggled to restrain himself from just sliding inside you right away. He wanted to make it last, wanted to make you feel good. He wanted it to mean something.

"I need you," you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. "Please, baby, I'm gonna explode if - oh!" Your back arched off the mattress and your head tilted back, mouth agape when he finally slid a thick finger inside you.

"'Baby?'" Joel panted, "Oh, I like that."

You let out a filthy moan as he set a steady pace, plunging his finger in and out, his thumb brushing against your clit teasingly before he slid a second finger inside. You bent your knees as you rocked your hips along with his thrusts, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched you come undone. With his thumb, he pressed down on your clit, swirling it around slowly as he watched your pleasure building, your gasps for air became harsher, and your moans morphing into cries.

He leaned forward on his free hand, his fist pushing into the mattress next to you, as his other hand picked up the pace inside your cunt. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were glazed over as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your eyes squeezed shut, your lower lip trapped in your teeth, moaning his name. When he pressed onto your clit a little harder and began wiggling his thumb side to side, it set something off. You gripped his wrist that was next to you on the bed and your eyes snapped open, finally looking up at him.

"Joel," you panted, "J-Joel, I'm gonna, fuck, please," you begged, "please d-don't stop."

"You're doin' so good for me, sweetheart," he murmured, "I love watchin' you like this. I can't wait to feel this tight pussy around my cock, but I need you to come for me first," you felt the coil in your stomach about to snap and you did your best to keep your eyes open. When he said, "That's it, let go... come for me," your body stilled as you gasped, your vision went fuzzy and you covered your mouth with the back of your hand, biting down.

Joel removed his fingers and leaned down to plant a small kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and removed your hand so he could press his lips against yours before resting your foreheads together, waiting until you caught your breath and came back down to earth. You stared up at him lazily, trailing a finger over his shoulder and across his collarbone, noticing for the first time he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You looked back at his face as he smiled down at you, but you could see the restraint behind his eyes, desperately trying to give you time to recover, but he was struggling.

You reached down between you and slid your hand inside his boxers, brushing up against the tip of his cock. You made your way down to the base and wrapped him in your hand. He hissed and his eyes fluttered closed as you began to work him up and down, gathering his precum with each stroke.

"Do you like that?" you asked him quietly, twisting your wrist back and forth now as you pumped him up and down, his breath growing erratic and the arm that supported him began to shake.

"Yes," he rasped. His forehead rested on your shoulder so you could feel the tickle of his exhale on your neck. "But you gotta stop, or else this'll be over before it began."

You let out a low chuckle but did as you were told. Once you let him go, you hooked your fingers on the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down as far as you could reach. He lifted his forehead off your shoulder so he could fling them into the corner of the room, then settled back over you again, leaning down to give you a quick kiss as his knees nudged your inner thigh. You opened your legs up wider so he could settle his hips in between, his heavy cock pressed between you both, the length of him sliding between your folds as his hips gently rocked back and forth.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he felt your slick coating him. He was rubbing against your clit, and it was driving you crazy, already feeling the start of another orgasm building.

"Joel, please, I need you," you whispered against his mouth. He lifted his hips up and with his fist, lined himself up, the tip of his cock gently prodding at your entrance a few times before he pushed himself inside your aching heat.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned as he inched further inside you, stretching you out. He tried to go slow, but he couldn't hold back any longer. He buried himself inside you with one quick motion, making you both cry out. He gave you a minute to adjust before he leaned forward and rested his head back on your shoulder, rocking slowly into you as you raked your fingers through his hair.

"You're so warm, so beautiful," he murmured with his eyes closed. "You feel so good," his hand came down to squeeze the meaty part of your hip as he continued his steady pace. He didn't want to rush, he wanted to savor every moment with you. You bit your lip and lightly scratched your nails down his back, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up.

Joel lifted his head from your shoulder to press his lips against yours before peppering your jaw and sucking on the pulse point in your neck. You groaned as he lifted one of your knees up and pressed it against your chest, sliding out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours, making you see stars. He created the perfect angle to hit your sweet spot when he brought your knee up, and it was dizzying.

He continued down your neck as his pace increased, leaving small bites along your collarbone. All you could hear was your skin slapping together and his quiet grunts that accompanied each thrust. You could feel your orgasm building in your lower abdomen, the familiar tension brewing as his pubic bone made direct contact with your clit each time he fucked into you.

"Joel," you whined, trying to warn him you were close.

"Keep takin' it," he grunted into your neck. "Just like that."

You squeezed your eyes shut trying to stave off your orgasm, but the noises he was making and the spot he was hitting inside was too much. You arched off the bed with a sob, digging your nails into his back. Your lips and fingers felt numb as your second orgasm washed over you, then finally you relaxed into the mattress. Joel sped up now, burying himself into you at a ruthless pace. He lifted his mouth from your neck and met your gaze.

"Tell me," he croaked again, his hair a mess and his face flush. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whimpered. You were becoming sore and overstimulated as he pounded into you, but you kept talking. "I'm yours. I've been yours since we met," you continued as his thrusts became sloppy and his jaw clenched, focused on your words. "I wish you fucked me on the table in the conference room that night."

That sent him over the edge, pulling out at the last minute with a guttural moan and spurting hot ropes of cum all over your inner thighs.

Joel had to fight to keep himself from collapsing on top of you, instead rolling himself to the side at the last minute, gasping for air. He wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you into him, planting small kisses on your temple and eyelids as you hummed, trying to collect yourself after two back-to-back orgasms. You finally opened your eyes and looked at him, his neck still splotched with red from the exertion and the sweat drying on his forehead. You couldn't help yourself. You reached your hand up to grasp the back of his head and brought him down for a burning kiss, running your tongue along his with a groan.

He sighed against your mouth before forcing himself to stand. He went to the bathroom to wet a rag and brought it back, gingerly cleaning up your thighs as you laid spread out before him. Your spent cunt was all he could focus on for a minute before he cleaned up the mess between your legs, taking a moment to admire his handiwork, then dropped the rag in the sink before sliding back beside you in bed.

"We should probably get up," you said to him, your eyes still closed. "You need to find a car battery."

"Batteries aren't goin' anywhere," he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist in case you were going to try to get up and start the day.

You laid there for a while, unsure if he had fallen asleep or not, but you felt so relaxed you weren't sure yourself if you were drifting in and out. You rubbed circles with your thumb along the back of his hand that clutched your waist and watched the sunlight dance along the walls of the bedroom. For the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

"You’re right, that was worth the wait," you whispered. His face was buried in your hair, his breath tickling your neck, and his soft snores lulled you back to sleep.

Later that morning, Joel ventured out to the various garages in the neighborhood, trying to find a battery with enough juice to power the radio. You tried to busy yourself with unpacking and repacking your backpacks, making sure you were fully stocked with first aid, clothes, food, ammo, and rags - anything to keep your mind off the last 24 hours and how things have changed. But hard as you tried, your mind kept wandering to the feeling of Joel's hands and mouth all over you.

You heard a soft rumble of thunder in the distance. Looking out the window, you could see the sky was getting dark quickly. You glanced up and down the street to see if you could see Joel nearby but saw nothing.

You were in the small pantry, organizing the canned goods you collected and deciding which you would use for dinner tonight when Joel strolled through the front door, calling your name. You popped your head out from the pantry to grab his attention, noticing two car batteries in his arms. He put them both on the kitchen counter and turned to you, your hands each holding a canned vegetable.

“I think one of these might work,” he told you excitedly, "Got back just in time, it's about to pour." You tried to hide your disappointment. You knew that getting the radio to work was the beginning of the end to your blissful, domestic life at Hidden Springs. You gave him a pained smile and put the cans on the counter.

“That’s great,” you said, avoiding his gaze.  “Do you want corn or green beans tonight?”

Joel immediately picked up on your mood, taking a step forward and gently took hold of your chin in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for answers. You shook your head, still dodging his gaze, trying to release his grip, but it only made him grab you tighter.

“I don’t want this to end,” you finally admitted, looking into his eyes for the first time. “I’m not ready to leave.”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, stroking his thumb along your jaw before pulling you forward to place his lips over yours for the first time since you left the bedroom. You moaned, wrapping your arm around the back of his neck to pull him closer and deepening the kiss. His tongue flicked against your lips, and you opened your mouth, allowing him to explore deeper. The desire damn near suffocated you as you ran your hand down his chest to his waistband, pulling him forward and groaning at the feeling of his stiffening cock against your hip. His hands ran down the length of you before settling on the back of your thighs and lifted you up to sit on the kitchen island. Joel broke the kiss and took half a step back to admire you, raking his eyes up and down your body.

“I had a fantasy like this, once,” he admitted, rubbing his hands along your thighs.

“Yeah?” you whined, chasing his mouth as he hovered over your own but stayed just out of reach. “Tell me.” He groaned at the now familiar command, gripping your hips tightly.

“I wanted to fuck you on my kitchen island,” he confessed, staring you dead in the eye as he watched for your reaction. “I wanted to sink my fingers inside you and watch you come, then I wanted to stuff you full of my cock and make you scream.” A rumble of thunder sounded closer now, the skies looking like they were about to open up.

Your head dropped to the side and your eyes rolled to the back of your head at his words, panting for breath now as you reached out to grab his shoulder and pull him closer to you. Your lips latched onto his feverishly, and slipping down from the counter, unbuttoned your jeans before breaking the kiss and turning around, pressing your ass against his hips. You looked back at him innocently over your shoulder.

“Show me," you told him, as the rain began to fall quietly outside.

That was all the permission he needed to unzip your pants and yank them down along with your underwear, tapping your ankle with his own to make you spread your legs as far as you could with your legs still caged by your jeans. You obliged, jutting your hips out to him, anxiously waiting for his touch. He ran his hands down your ass slowly before giving one cheek a firm smack, prompting a small cry from you. He wasted no time before he took two fingers to explore along your slit, feeling the wetness collecting there as you moaned and tilted your head back.

“Are you always this ready, sweetheart?” he mumbled in your ear, slipping one finger inside you as you gasped and shook your head.

“No,” you replied, rolling your head to the side, “only for you.”

He groaned at your words, pushing a second finger inside you, making you wail as he thrusted them in and out, his breath ragged matching your moans. He pumped his fingers inside of you from behind, your hips matching his pace as you tried to chase your high, his other hand digging mercilessly into your hip.

“Joel,” you whined, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pressure build. “I’m gonna come, baby, please!”

“Then do it,” he snarled in your ear, a flash of lightning reflected on the windows. His hand released your hip and went down to hastily undo his belt. “Come all over my fingers, then I’m gonna make you scream my name with my cock.” He pressed a finger on your aching clit two, three times before you came, gasping and throwing your head back.

He didn't waste any time, quickly removing his fingers from your cunt and pressing the tip of his cock against your opening, giving you only a few seconds to realize what was happening before he pushed inside you with a deep groan. This time, he hardly gave you any time to adjust as he snapped his hips against your ass over and over, making you cry out and bite down on your lip, gripping the edges of the counter. He leaned forward and sunk his teeth into your clothed shoulder as you bucked against him, your hips desperately trying to match his rhythm. The rain beat steadily on the windows now as you could feel beads of sweat beginning to form at the sides of your head, gasping for air at the intense pace Joel set. You turned your head as far as you could to look back over your shoulder at him, his jaw slack as he stared down where he pummeled into you, your ass rippling with each thrust.

"Was it like this?" you asked, panting for breath. He finally looked up and saw you watching him, a smile spreading across your face.

"No," he grunted, fucking into you faster, making you squeeze the edges of the counter even harder. "This is so much fuckin' better."

You groaned and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your pussy squeezed around him, and he could tell you were about to come.

"That's it," he panted, pulling you up from the counter so your back was flush against his chest, the new angle sending you over the edge. "Let go. Let me feel it. I can't get enough."

As promised, you screamed out his name at the same time thunder roared outside. You felt a jolt go through your whole body as you came, your slick coating his cock, gazing helplessly at the ceiling as he rammed into you, chasing his own release.

"That's my girl," he gasped in your ear, his arm wrapped around your chest so you could barely move. "Fuck, you feel so good, like you were made for me-" He grunted and then quickly pulled out, making you whine at the sudden loss, but then you felt the warmth of his release coating your ass and dripping down the backs of your thighs.

You slumped forward over the island to catch your breath, and Joel followed suit, resting the side of his face between your shoulder blades as his hands slid down your arms down to find your own hands, splayed flat on the countertop, intertwining your fingers together. Your eyes fluttered closed, relishing the intimacy before he inevitably pulled away to clean you both up. After tucking himself back into his jeans, he kneeled on the floor to loop his fingers around the sides of your panties, still wrapped around your ankles, and pulled them up, peppering the backs of your legs with kisses along the way.

He began to pull on your jeans, but halfway up you reached down to take them from him, wiggling your hips as the denim slid around your waist. You turned around to face him, buttoning them back up before planting a bruising kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, his hand coming up to cup your face before pulling back, resting your foreheads together.

"You're gonna wear me out, sweetheart," he murmured as his thumb stroked your jaw. You sighed, leaning into his touch and gazed up at him through your eyelashes.

"I can't help it, I just keep thinking about all the times we could have been doing this," you whispered, your hand coming up to cover his own. "You could have been bending me over the desk in your office a year ago, instead of a kitchen counter in the middle of nowhere."

He inhaled sharply at the visual of fucking you in his office, his hand covering your mouth as he railed into you.

"Filthy girl," he muttered, pressing his lips firmly against yours before adding, "I thought about doin' that constantly, drove me insane." He could feel the blood rushing to his cock again, wondering how it was possible to want somebody this badly.

You hummed as you ran your hands up and down his torso, reaching up to finally plant a kiss on that heart shaped patch of skin in his beard, his hand dropping from your face to grip your upper arm, and another roll of thunder echoed through the house.

"Here are those reports you asked for, Mr. Miller," you whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, the low groan in his throat vibrating against your lips. You were already soaking through your underwear again, sighing as you turned your head to press small kisses on the other side of his neck. "Is there anything else I can do for you today?"

"Yeah," he growled, his grip on your arm tightening. "Get on your fuckin' knees and suck me off while I hop on this conference call."

He felt the smile tug across your lips against his throat, reaching down to palm his impossibly hard cock over his jeans.

"Whatever you need, sir," you murmured. You pulled away and sunk to your knees on the floor, placing your hand over his belt when you froze. You thought you heard a shout outside, but it was hard to tell through the thunderstorm. You frowned, looking up at Joel to see if he heard it too, but he was already looking through the kitchen and past the living room out the front window, his eyes widening, then ducked down behind the kitchen island where you were already squatting.

"Shit," he whispered, peering one eye around the corner of the island to look out the window. He saw at least four men carrying rifles and shotguns, shouting to each other over the rain, kicking the door in across the street and waving their arms, motioning for two more men to follow, as they ran inside the empty house to get out of the storm.

"How many?" You whispered, even though you knew they couldn't possibly hear you.

"Six, maybe more," he said through clenched teeth. Once he was sure they were all inside the house, he turned back to you. "We gotta be quick. Grab our packs and coats, I'll go get our weapons and we gotta sneak out the back," he told you, jutting his chin towards the mud room door off the kitchen. "Once this storm lets up, they'll come back out." He saw the look in your eye, and he put a stop to it before you could even say anything.

"There's too many, we can't take 'em sweetheart, I'm sorry." He knew you didn't want to leave, but you both knew this day would come sooner or later. "Now, c'mon, go get our stuff, stay as low as you can so they don't see you in the windows."

You turned away from him and army crawled along the kitchen floor into the den, slowly pulling each of your backpacks towards you, staying below the windows in the room that faced the street. You slung yours over your back and hooked his around your wrist as you turned back, still flat on the floor, and pulled yourself back into the kitchen, shoving his pack near the back door and shrugging yours off to leave next to his. You noticed the door leading to the garage was cracked, and you heard Joel rummaging in the garage for your weapons. Lucky for him, there were no windows to avoid in there.

You continued to crawl towards the living room where you saw your coats draped over the arm of the couch, pulling them down slowly, thankful the rain was coming down so hard now that it was making it difficult to see outside.

By the time you made it back into the kitchen, he was already waiting behind the island with your weapons in hand. You tossed him his jacket and shimmied yours on, zipping it up before pulling your pack back on, now sitting behind the island with him.

"I just repacked these this morning while you were out," you whispered as he pulled his backpack on. "Whatever we're missing, we can get along the way." He nodded, handing you your bow and handgun, while he shouldered his rifle and slipped his revolver into the back of his jeans.

"You ready?" He asked, meeting your gaze. You nodded, trying to hold back your emotions, knowing it was stupid to get attached to a house. He reached his hand out to cup your jaw, knowing what you were thinking without having to say it. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours quickly, then dropped his hand to crouch along the kitchen floor, motioning for you to follow him through the mud room and out the back.

Under the cover of the sheets of rain and neighboring houses, you followed Joel through the backyard and towards the woods surrounding your little sanctuary, throwing one last look over your shoulder, committing the image of the white house with blue shutters to your memory before turning back and facing the dense forest ahead.

Chapter Fifteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Spider Webs Part 2 - König*Fem!Reader

Let’s play a game with our colonel.

Part two of my previous writing:

content warning: 18+, mdni, phone sex, masturbation, monitoring

100% will have part 3 because this isn’t what I’m planning first and I accidentally made myself need to write another chapter to finish this work, but hope you enjoy! :)

part 3 bonus chapter 1

Since the day König discovered your obsession with him at your home, your relationship shifted from “superior and subordinate” to something much more intimate, between lovers and predators with their prey.

Who is the predator, and who is the prey? Nice question.

You would feign that you were going to give him his favorite latte and report some “important information”, went into his office, and came out 20 minutes later.

“gott, your hands... so tight... shit...! ahh...”Your delicate hands wrapped tightly around his cock, moving at a swift pace, and after you gave him a playful squeeze on the tip, König came with a moan in your hand, cum splattered on your black shirt.

“Oooh, colonel.” You said with a fake concerned tone “You’re too loud, and you stained my shirt. Do you want your comrades to know what a slutty pervert you are? Cumming hard in your assistant’s hands behind the door of your office?”

“Nein...” 

His voice was raspy, weakly spoken due to the exhaustion of post-orgasm.

You took out your handkerchief — the one you hid before so he would come to your house to find it — wiping the cum from your hand and your clothes while maintaining eye contact with König.

“Let’s play a game, colonel.” A mischievous smile appeared on your face. “From now on, no more self pleasuring, no more helping each other, or even sex for us."

“Whoever breaks the rules first needs to listen to the other person's order.” He watched you fold the handkerchief into a perfect square, put it on his desk, and left him panting on his chair.

You didn’t give him a chance to reject, not like he wouldn’t oblige though.

You gave him three tiny monitors and told him to set them up in his office and his room, of course, no blind spots were allowed. In return, you gave him access to those monitors you set up before to catch him sneaking into your house.

With these monitors, you both were able to see what the other was doing all the time.

Including the bathroom, because you both were sick perverts.

König’s libido wasn't that high until he met you, so he thought he might be able to beat you by imagining what he could do to you as a reward for the longtime self-control he maintained during your dangerous game.

But apparently, you weren’t an easy competitor to be beaten.

Sometimes he opened his laptop, clicked on the app for the monitors, and saw you walking in a black nightgown, the silky and close-fitting one that hugs your curves and challenged his self-control.

Well, you should admit he was doing much better than you estimated too.

You bought a second monitor for your computer, just for you to watch him every moment, and he really didn’t do anything sex-related.

You praised him right into his ear when he sat on his office chair, noticing him clutched onto the armrest hard enough to make his knuckles white, but he still played the game pretty well.

But no matter how he well performed, it’s still your game, you would win, eventually.

König came back from a two-week mission at night, it’s not arduous, but it’s an annoying one.

He walked to his office, took off his gear, and sat on his chair with a tired grunt.

The curtains were down, avoiding any moonlight pouring into the room,and he sat under the dim light of the lamp, eyes flickered around, finally lying on his laptop.

What were you doing now? 

He missed you, he hadn’t seen you for two weeks, he missed the little praises you whispered to him, missed the heart-warming smile you gave to others, which only turned to a fetching one when you looked at him with evil glints in your eyes.

Open the laptop and clicked on the app he opened countless times before, he searched over the monitors to find your figure.

and there you are, lying on your bed, wearing a silver-white nightgown this time.

Your chest rose and fell at a steady pace, your facial expression was calm.

You looked divine in his eyes, like a goddess.

But his gaze moved down, to the place the strap of the nightgown fell down your shoulder, and down to the part of your skirt riding up, revealing your thigh.

König felt his body was consumed by fire, burning fiercely at the sight of you, even though you looked serene, the dirty thoughts about you were unstoppable in his mind.

How eager he wanted to kiss your soft lips, grab your thighs and ram into your pussy with an unforgivable pace, and left a bite mark on your shoulder until you cry out his name loudly.

He looked at the monitor again, you hadn't moved an inch, dead asleep because it was already midnight at the moment.

He hesitantly put his hand over the obvious bulge his cock made in his cargo pants. You wouldn’t discover if he pleasured himself this time, right?

but when he touched his shaft over his pants, he knew it was unable to stop right now.

He quickly pulled his cargo pants to his knee, letting his cock spring out with how hard it already was, the precum made a mess to his palm when he started moving his hand at a quick speed.

“Hmm...so gut...” He closed his eyes, recalling the memory of you falling to your knees, pink lips swallowing his cock, and he could almost hear the squelch sounds when you took him deep down in your throat.

but his breath hitched and a stuttered groan left him when he opened his eyes again.

You stared right at him through the camera, the corner of your eyes crinkling as your lips formed a cheeky grin.

Oh, he was so fucked up.

He watched you reached your arm, opened the bedside drawer, and took out your phone.

His work phone rang a few seconds later.

“Good evening, sir.” Your happiness was obvious in your voice. “What are doing now? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Schatz...” König moaned out, but his hand only became quicker once your voice flowed into his ear.

“Don’t feel sorry, colonel.” You cooed, and his eyes were glued to your body when you sat up on the edge of your bed, eyes never left the camera.

“Just came back from a tough mission, right? I know, don’t worry.” Your leg are placed over the other. “Let me help you, okay?”

“Bitte... I need you, h-help me...” König’s hand shakily holding his phone, and he knew he must sounded pathetic.

“I missed you so much, König. You know that?” You shift your hips a little bit, pulling your nightgown higher, and higher until fully expose your lacy black underwear to him. 

“How much I want to lay my hands on you..... feel your cock twitch under my touch......” 

You opened your legs. König can see it clearly even through the monitor, your panties were already been soaked by your arousal, making a darker spot at the clothes cling to your pussy, and he moaned out at the sight.

“When you come to the office in the daytime, what should I do to you as my trophy? Should I make you lick all my juices when I sit on your face, making your hood dampen by them? Or should I bring you a collar with my name on it, and make you mine forever?”

König already felt like he was about to cum, too long without having any relief, without seeing your pretty face and hearing your sugary words,making his orgasm build up much faster than usual.

“Ja! Make me yours! Bitte... Mach mich zu deinem...verlass mich nicht...ahh” (Make me yours...don’t leave me)

He tumbled over the edge with a high pitch whine, lukewarm cum spilled all over his skin and his abdomen, and in his hazy mind, he could only hear your enchanting voice, telling him the thing he wanted to hear the most.

“Good...So good for me. Now, ready for your punishment, yeah?”

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[within-your-eyes-if]

A Few Updates

Hello everyone!

I have some exciting news and a few thoughts I want to share. Another long update, I'm sorry!

Codex Update: As you know, I've been working on updating the Codex. I've put a lot of thought into each entry, balancing new ideas with existing lore. While a lot of elements were already established, delving deeper into some topics has inspired some new ideas, and I want to ensure everything fits seamlessly. With this in mind, I'm considering releasing what I have so far while I continue to ponder over some of these newer concepts and refine older ones. In the next few days, I'll be going through more feedback to address some issues found before I plan to release the update.

New Story: I'm excited to share I've released a prologue and first chapter for From Here to Again! Writing something different is meant to help me grow as a writer and expand upon things I might not have considered before, especially when writing Twine.

I will not be making a Tumblr for this story right now, sorry!

I know I've shared other stories that I planned, and here are some updates on those:

Nautical Lost would definitely benefit from a later release as Within Your Eyes grows, as this story will expand upon the world lore and some events that will happen.

The Innkeeper (a working title), I decided to hold off on because I'm terrible at management games, it seems. It was meant to be a fun little story with shenanigans. However, I do want to revisit the idea later.

Short Stories: I've expressed I want to make some short stories, but I feel like there's a point in WYE I want to pass first before getting into them. But I do have one I'm working on that I want to release alongside Part Two that delves into the past.

Worries About Burnout: I know some of you are/might be worried about burnout, but I feel like I have a good system for myself. Writing is a journey I haven't explored much before. I did write, but it's something I didn't think I was good at because, honestly, I was told I wasn't. I know I'm not the greatest, but I want to grow and learn as a writer. I've been taking breaks to focus on other things I enjoy, even if it's still writing out ideas for other stories.

I appreciate all of the concern in this regard, not just for my well-being, but also for the love of my story. To see it abandoned would be heartbreaking not just for my readers, but for me as well. 'Within Your Eyes' has been an idea long in the making, shifting and growing. It's something I've always wanted to share, and I'm so happy I have!

Time for Questions: I'm ready to start answering some of your questions regarding Part One. Enough time has passed, I believe, to start delving into these. To respect those who haven't caught up yet, I'll include any spoilers under a 'Read More' tag. However, be mindful that some questions themselves might contain spoilers.

Regarding certain asks/scenarios, I think that discovering the answers through the story rather than in a post might be more rewarding. While I may still respond to these, I'll be thoughtful about placing them under a 'Read More' tag as well.

Regardless, I've been thinking more about how I should approach questions, not only in a way that's satisfying to you, but also benefits the story.

Closing Thoughts: Sorry again for the long update. I've been very reflective after releasing a second story, and I hope no one sees this as me diverting from WYE. I'm grateful for every one of you and for all of your words of encouragement and love. I hope you enjoy From Here to Again (if you decide to check it out) and continue to look forward to our Warden's journey.

Thank you!

[mychoombatheroomba]

Quiet Moments

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 16

It would be time for lights out soon. You knew you should probably go to your barracks to avoid people coming to look for you. Leon had to have known it, too. And yet, neither of you moved.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Change was exhausting. 

You had finally settled into a comfortable routine - a world of knives and guns and cold memories. You hadn’t been happy, living that way. Quite the opposite, in fact. Still, you had found some peace in the repetition. In making yourself into more of a weapon than a person. Weapons didn’t die the same way people did, after all. 

Then Krauser pitted you against Leon Kennedy all those weeks ago, and that routine - that peace - was slowly shattered. 

As you sat side by side that night, the weight of something new settling between the two of you, you couldn’t help but wonder if the Major had orchestrated that fight with an ulterior motive in mind. He was a crafty bastard, after all. Always setting traps and tests. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he’d put you up against the only person on base that shared your experiences. Or maybe he’d wanted the two of you to find each other. 

Whatever the case, you were almost positive that he hadn’t intended for it to end up with the two of you tangling tongues behind the mess hall. He’d probably go homicidal, if he found out. You could almost hear him calling you an idiot and worse, and he might even be right for it. 

No, he would be right. You were a complete and total fool for doing this. 

But in that moment, sitting in the dark and listening to the crickets with Leon at your side, you didn’t care what was stupid and what wasn’t. All you could think about was how his mouth had felt against your own. How warm his skin had felt. How impossibly soft his lips had been. And how utterly spent you felt, after a day that held so much change. 

It would be time for lights out soon. You knew you should probably go to your barracks to avoid people coming to look for you. Leon had to have known it, too. 

And yet, neither of you moved. You just lingered there, your shoulders pressed against each other as you stared into the darkness. Fitting, because you had no idea what was coming your way, now. 

Even so, the dark seemed just a little less daunting when he was at your side.

“You know,” Leon said, and you turned to look at him, even if you couldn’t see much of him in the shadows. “Today turned out pretty well.” 

You snorted. “It started with you getting tear gassed and knocked out.” 

“Only had uphill to go from there,” Leon pointed out, and once again you found yourself delightfully confused by his optimism. 

“Krauser’s not going to make you guys sleep in your barracks, is he?” You hoped not - there was likely still some residual gas left over. Not to mention the blood you’d teased Leon about, and all manner of disarray that likely hadn’t been seen to. 

“No.” Leon sounded relieved about that fact. “We’re going to be in another bunkhouse for tonight.”

“And then I guess you’ll be moving into our barracks soon,” you grinned over at him. Not that it would mean much - not unless you and Leon planned on giving the rest of your squad a show. Still, you couldn't help but enjoy the idea. 

Even in the darkness, you could see his mouth curl up at the thought, too.

“Guess so.” 

“Valeria snores. Fair warning.” 

The comment earned you a laugh. “That’s alright. I’ve been told I talk.” 

“In your sleep?” 

Leon nodded, and even if you couldn’t see the intricacies of his expression, you could feel his energy shift. “Bad dreams.” 

You frowned. Tapped your fingers on your thigh. “I get them too.” 

Even in the dark, you could feel Leon’s gaze. Likely more empathetic than it had any right to be. “Hard not to, I guess.” 

You hummed, nodding your head and staring out into the distance again. You hoped that tonight there would be something else waiting for you when you closed your eyes than snow and blood and the smell of rot. You also knew better than to be that optimistic, so you decided you were going to think of something else. Run out the clock as long as you could before the two of you had to face your nightmares. 

“If you ever want to talk about them,” Leon offered, and you knew what he was going to offer. It wrung your heart even before he finished the sentence. “I’ll listen.” 

You bit the inside of your mouth. You’d already told him some of what you dreamed of. The infected. The knife. It was the things you hadn’t told him that gave you pause. The things your mind twisted and reinvented. You knew he would understand, because he always did, but . . . “Maybe,” you nodded. Tilted your head a bit. “Mostly it’s just memories.” 

“Me too,” Leon nodded. Went quiet for a little, like he was thinking hard about something. 

“Same goes for you. If you want to talk about them.” It was only right to offer. Especially after you’d avoided him for so many days. The guilt of that choice was still hanging over you, even now. You would bear it, though, because it was deserved as far as you were concerned. Now, you would try to make it right. 

“I might take you up on that,” Leon admitted, and you could tell by the way he spoke, he had a particular dream in mind. It took him a moment, but eventually, he made a shaky start. “That first night when you kissed me . . . well, the night before, I guess . . .” he shook his head, restarting once more with no small amount of difficulty. “I lost someone in Raccoon City.” You felt your stomach drop at the admission. “She . . . I really cared about her, and I couldn’t save her. I had a dream about her that night. Couldn’t get it out of my head. That’s why I pulled away.” 

You weren’t sure of what to say - there were too many thoughts rushing through your mind. Raccoon City wasn’t that long ago. Half a year. No wonder he’d flinched away when you kissed him. 

“I’m sorry. If I’d known-”

“No, it’s . . . I didn’t know her for that long, really,” Leon assured you. “It was just . . . well, it was complicated.” There was a story there, you could hear it in his voice. A story that held many, many emotions. One that he was ready to at least partially tell, it seemed, the words spilling out like he needed them gone. “I met her that night. She’s the reason I went down into the Umbrella labs for that virus sample. She said she was FBI, and that she was going to use it to bring Umbrella down. Turns out, she was a mercenary trying to steal it. She got hurt, so she needed me. Then things went bad and . . .” he trailed off, and you knew better than to seek more than he was willing to give. Besides, the way he tensed beside you and the way his words were filled with bitter regret told you enough.  

You were surprised to find yourself angry on his behalf - or, perhaps, more so saddened that someone would take advantage of him like that. Leon Kennedy was the kind of person who would throw himself into a fight to save a stranger - to take a beating to spare someone else a bruise. Of course he would have offered to help, and of course a mercenary would take that inch and run a mile with it. 

That injustice made you clench your jaw, and the only thing that kept you from hurling harsh words at this woman’s memory was the way Leon sounded when he spoke of her. “I know I shouldn’t miss her-”

“It’s alright that you do,” you said, firm in your belief. You of all people knew how grief worked. No one got to choose when they were free of it, or who they felt it for. “What was her name?”

“. . . Ada.”

You nodded. You weren’t so petty to think a ghost a threat, nor were you going to question Leon’s choice to pursue something with you now. He wasn’t the kind of man to use this to distract himself from the pain of that loss - and even if he was, you wouldn’t begrudge him. You of all people knew what it was to drag yourself through grief, using whatever you could find purchase on. If that was what this was for Leon, then you could live with that. 

The way he’d looked at you tonight, though - the way he’d held you and spoke of you - told you that this was very real for him. 

And that set a different kind of fear through you, one that you fought hard against. You’d spent a year without happiness. Whatever the future held, whatever worries you had, it could wait until morning. 

You hoped it would wait even longer than that.

“Sorry,” Leon finally said. “I just . . . wanted to explain myself. I didn’t mean to end tonight on a bad note.” 

“You didn’t.” You hoped that your voice conveyed just how truthful you were being. “Listening is the least I can do.” 

Leon’s eyes stole some of the moon and starlight to sparkle a bit as he smiled. “Thank you,” he said. Then, after a moment, he went on. “Whatever I felt for her, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.” 

The admission brought a smile to you and filled you with a bit of foolish pride. 

You had to go. You both had to get going before someone came looking. 

But then, you’d ignored sense for so much of tonight. What was one more time? 

“Feel like proving it?” you asked, sitting up and leaning towards him. 

Leon got the message and didn’t need much to be convinced. He leaned in, and your noses bumped in the dark. It made both of you laugh - a happy moment that you grabbed onto and refused to let go of. Your mouths met, still humming with laughter, and then there was a still, tranquil quiet. 

You’d been right. One kiss wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure you would ever have enough. 

But there was no time for more tonight.

“We should get going,” you whispered against his lips. 

“Pick back up here tomorrow?” Leon asked, stealing another little kiss from you. Your eyes widened in surprise, just as sure as your mouth curved up in satisfaction. Oh, he was going to be fun. 

“Not worried someone will see?” 

“No cameras,” Leon shrugged, still holding you close. His lips still brushing yours.

“Someone’s been paying attention.” 

“So? Is it a date?” God, he was cute. A date was dinner and a night at the drive-in. A trip to the bowling alley. Something - anything - but two spec ops recruits stealing kisses in the blind spots of the cameras. Still, it was the best you could hope for, and all you would ask for. 

“Maybe,” you grinned, feeling some dark elation that pushed you to kiss him again, harder this time. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping at him, and the little gasp he made set your blood rushing in your veins. You were going to get more of those reactions from him, you made that promise to yourself then and there. “If you can beat me tomorrow, after drills . . . then we’ll see.” The challenge was whispered with a hiss and a devilish smile. You were having far too much fun, and you only wished you could see Leon’s reaction better. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He could try to act offended all he wanted. You could hear the excitement in his voice all the same. “I’ve beaten you before, you know.” 

“Well then tomorrow should be fun, right?” Another kiss. Leon snaked his tongue past your teeth, and you hummed at the feeling. 

When the two of you separated, he didn’t go far. “How will tomorrow be?” Leon asked, a touch more serious. He was asking about the training, you knew. Krauser wouldn’t give your new squad mates a reprieve. He would throw them into the water, where they would either sink or swim. 

“It’ll be hard,” you admitted, “but you’ll be alright. You’re tough.” 

Leon smiled. Nodded. “But there won’t be any more ambushes or anything, right?” 

“Telling you would-”

“Defeat the point, I know.” It was said with a roll of his eyes, his tone good-natured as it so often was. And he lingered there for a moment longer, like he didn’t want the night to end. Neither of you did. 

Still, you eventually both found it in yourself to stand. Leon left first - something you agreed upon to make yourselves look a modicum less suspicious. Not that it would really matter, you got the feeling. You were both living in a place that was under constant surveillance, after all. It would only be a matter of time before someone found out. 

Another thing you added to the list of reasons you were being a fool. 

Another thing you ignored as you let yourself smile at nothing while you walked back to the barracks.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Sorry for a brief delay, I got very busy this weekend! Hope you're all having a good New Year so far, thank you so much for reading! ❤️

[rabbitbandit05]

Dangerously Yours (Vox x Reader)

I had this idea after listening to "Dangerously Yours" (1944) Masquerade episode on Spotify, and couldn’t help but write for it. I was originally going to write three chapters for it, but ive been very busy with college work and life so you can have the bullet points that was going to be the script for the story. This is also kinda piggybacking off my original post of "Y/N as a star", but this time with a twist. I hope you enjoy this post- and also reminder: My requests are open!!

Alastor and you both know each other from when you were alive! Not only were the two of you close, but you were cousins.  

This story starts off with you, who is one of Alastors most trusted colleagues in hell (but are not an overlord). You are sent to the Vees tower to spy on them, and Alastor entrusts this task to you because of how closed off you are from the rest of hell and that no one should know you well enough to question who you are. 

Not only that- but no one knows your familiar relationship with Alastor so they wont be able to use that against you. 

In the event that you needed to escape, Alastors shadows would follow behind you from a distance to ensure your safety, and when you stomped you foot three times, you would be whisked away to a safe place.

With that all said and done, You make your way to the Vee’s tower on a day you knew a bunch of reporters would be there and questioning/ interviewing the Vee’s  

People are naturally drawn to you (not in a hypnotizing way- but in a way you are able to alter your aura to have people perceive you in any way you want them to) 

You end up making it a point to charm a bunch of reporters near the Vees tower to catch their attention. Not only that, but you play coy by pretending to not know the Vee’s and their influence. Now that really catches their attention because they are extremely prideful about their importance.

You claim it’s because you have barely left your old employer who kept her under a close watch and rarely let you use the internet/ technology (Not 100% false- you just preferred to stay away from the technology originally) 

Not only do you catch the attention of the Vee’s, but you catch the attention of Vox in particular, Who (after watching your playful and intentional nature) is determined to make you into a super star. 

Its all going according to plan, just as Alastor predicted. Something new and shiny shows itself to Vox and he cant resist trying to control it. 

You agree to work with Vox for a certain period of time before you actually sign a contract with the Vee’s (so that you are granted time to get in and out quickly without having to sell your soul to any of them).

You start to slowly get info on the Vees and how they run things, as well as creating a way for alastor to take them all down. They each have their weaknesses that only those who are allowed close to them are able to see. Its easy to assume a persons weakness, but to evaluate and calculate the best way to ensure their down fall is the best course of action.  

And whats that saying? Keep your friends close, Keep your enemies closer.  

Meanwhile, while working for the Vee’s, you are becoming more known throughout hell and are rising in popularity. 

You are the talk of the pride ring, with all the demons wondering where you came from and how you were so quickly able to captivate your audience. Only two demons on this side of hell are able to work such an audience after all- The radio demon and the Video demon. 

Its inevitable that you and Vox start a relationship with one another (very lowkey ofcourse, with no knowledge from the public, however people still suspect it)

You know its fake, and somewhere deep inside, vox suspects its fake, but both of you cant help but lean into it regardless. 

Its also inevitable that both of you develop feelings for one another, though neither of you can admit it… 

Eventually your act comes to a head though- as Vox finally admits to you that he knows who you are and what your plans are- Its not hard for him to find whatever information he wants, and that includes about you. He did a “background check” on who you were before coming here and found out about how you are related to the Radio demon. 

however as he confronts you, there is no aggressiveness in his voice, just an unsettling calmness that is even unusual for him… 

You are forced to stray from the original plan and now must protect yourself and what you know. 

You debate back with the video demon. He has it all wrong, that no matter what he does, he wont get the information he wants from you, and that you will end him if it comes down to it- if he forces you to (you both know this is a bluff but regardless, you refuse to die without a fight)

Vox doesn't argue with you- instead, he tries to get you to join the Vee’s and actually commit to being a star as well as joining him and the Vees in ruling. Forget Alastor, forget your ties to him or whatever debt you may owe him- he is giving you a choice that is up to you alone to make, and that is to join the Vee’s. 

Afterall, he cant bring himself to exist in his unlife without you- essentially admitting he loves you.

He also admits that regardless of weather you join them or not, Alastors time as an overlord is coming to an end soon… 

You can help but break down. Here you are given the chance to finally do something for yourself and act on the love you have for Vox- and you admit that to him, however you also confess that there will always be a part of you that wonders if he actually cares about you, or if he justs cares about the power you can bring to him… 

Not only that, but your loyalty will always be deeper to Alastor than it is to Vox, and Vox’s loyalty to winning against Alastor will always be deeper than his love for you. 

You end up stomping your foot three times on the floor, and then before Vox can say anything or move from his spot to stop you from leaving, you are engulfed in a circle of shadows and whisked away from the scene- ending up in your room at the Hotel. You collapse to the floor from the emotional exhaustion and heartbreak of it all- 

maybe in another death you could have been together… maybe if you were born a different person in your life you could have been together, but you both died in your current forms and are the demons you are- and you cant change that. 

Alastor walks up to you and ends up chuckling at your patheticness, as he helps hoist you up and walk you to the kitchen to make you something to eat to cheer you up. Maybe an old family recipe will bring you some comfort, and he can relish in your misery at missing home even more.

Vox’s mission to end Alastor becomes even more intense, as now he believes that ifd he kills Alastor, you will finally be freed from the guilt of being forced to follow and obey him, and finally be free to make your own choices. 

Vox also never informs the other Vee’s about your betrayal, and insist you were kidnapped and he is working on getting you back. 

The end. 

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 11: our penance

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: angst, drug abuse, references to suicide attempts

a/n: one more chapter after this!

series masterlist

Dreams created a reality so poignant, so desirable, that when you woke the lines between that land and this were blurred so well you had difficulty differentiating. Did they actually come back to say they still wanted you, that this wasn’t over? Or was that some sick sleep induced hallucination? It took a few hours to become clear, but ...

Hallucination was always the answer. Always. 

Deep in your mind, you imagined their forms outside of your window, moths hovering close to your flame, willing to throw themselves into the fire just to feel that sweet heat one last time. It was never truth.

-

Nesta knew it was wrong to hang out here, outside of your apartment, just begging for a glimpse of you; but she knew you left your window blinds wide open and told herself that you did it on purpose, for her. Hoping Nesta or Cassian might come and watch you. Or perhaps in protest because each time Nesta and Cassian had seen you they’d closed the blinds again. 

“Can't have anyone spying on you,” Cassian planted a kiss on your forehead. Nesta laughed as she pushed past him, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

This was heaven, here with you. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect it. 

But Nesta hadn’t, and you deserved someone who would go that far for you. She couldn't be that person. 

Maybe, however, you both just needed a hint of closure. Something to ease the sting. It had begun the two of you, maybe it needed to end that way. 

She stood from her post on the shadowy bench across the street from your place. A swirling wind shook the leaves from the trees lining the street, raining them down on her like she’d personally angered it. 

Nesta barely made it a step into the sidewalk when a wing snapped in front of her. Not Cassian’s. 

Azriel’s shadows twirled around it as he followed, stepping into its path. 

He didn’t ask where she was going, or what she was planning. Those shadows of his undoubtedly told him everything he needed to know. 

“Move,” she ordered. 

“I’d say you've hurt her enough,” Azriel commented. She heard the sound of a smashing glass. “And he’ll kill me if I let you put yourself in that situation.” 

Another glass smashed. A scream followed. Guttural, raw, and pained. 

Your scream. She pictured your body lying over the bed, wrists bleeding out onto the carpet; her scream as she slid to you and clutched the wounds, praying to the mother and for once cursing she had nothing to give back, cursing the world if she lost you, cursing just to bring some kind of sentiment at the end. 

Arms wrapped around her, tentative, unfamiliar. Wings closed in, bathing her in shadow and darkness. 

“It will be alright,” Azriel murmured the words of comfort as if they were unfamiliar to him. 

Wet drops stained her collar, splashing against her skin and slipping through the small gap. Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying. 

-

Nesta would kill him when she found out, but he had to see you, to see how you were doing. If you were still... Reason said it wasn’t his problem, not anymore, but he still felt like he was abandoning you to the wolves by leaving like that. Only this time, the wolves were your own mind. 

Cassian creaked your door open. Through the main room, your bedroom door was cracked open, just enough for him to see a hand hanging over the edge. 

He blinked, the red clearing from his vision, revealing perfectly unwounded skin. He moved a bit closer, hanging just outside your door, he heard your heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive. Perhaps a bit fast, but ... he glanced over his shoulder at the clock. It was unusual for you to sleep around this time, you’d never been much of a napper. 

Not his problem. No, not problem, he lost the right to be concerned two days ago. 

An unusual shape on the kitchen table caught his attention, and Mother curse him he was too fucking nosy to be in here. 

Still, Cassian investigated. 

He flipped the bottle around, freezing as the pills inside made a jingling sound. Several breaths, no movement from the other room. 

Sleeping pills. You’d found someone who would prescribe sleeping pills to you. 

He had half a mind to find that doctor and rip him to pieces. Still, not his right to be concerned anymore. 

Guilt at his actions burrowing deep in his stomach, he left his place exactly as he found it. Enough Azriel might even be proud. 

“I knew you’d do that,” as if his thoughts had summoned the male, he stepped from the shadows. “Rhys asked me to keep both of you away.” It was unlike Azriel to offer up this information, so Cassian kept his mouth shut in hopes of more. “But I would’ve done the same thing.” 

Had Azriel done the same thing in the past? He’d always been so secretive with his lovers ... None of his business. 

Right now, Cassian felt as if he mattered to nothing and no-one. No amount of love had been enough, no amount of desire or care. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel said, nudging his forward with his wind. 

Some big, tough, brave general he was. Walking away from his ex-girlfriend’s apartment building with his head hanging low. 

-

The Gods must be growing tired of you and your bullshit, let alone the Mother. That was a fact. All you did was run around and make a mess of things. 

You glanced at the bottle of pills sitting on your counter. Hadn’t they been on your kitchen table before? It didn’t really matter, as long as they were still there. If anyone had been in here, they hadn’t cared enough to take them away from you, and since rational was out the window that meant they obviously wanted you to take them, didn’t it?

You wondered what would happen if you dumped the entire bottle down your throat. 

No. 

In your twisted brain, it would mean they won. 

And in your own way, you were ready to bite back. 

-

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy  @idkmyoldonewasembarassing

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16 

[jeding-png]

Hello! I saw your comments about chapters. I'm really interested about your opinion. In chapter 153 Derrick and Yvonne are talking. Between it's scene with three flowers.

It's interesting that blue flower (rose ??) is close to pink one than to darker pink flower. Which symbolise that Derrick (blue flower) (he even has dark blue flower in his suit) is closer to Yvonne (pink flower) than to Penelope (dark pink flower). We know that she use a manipulation and dark magic but that's not important. Can it be foreshadowing that Derrick "betrays" Penelope ?

I'm interested about your opinion!

Wow! Thank you for your comment and quite an interesting topic to discuss! :D

Actually, a few weeks ago I was planning to do a separate post about how SUOL-nim often leaves details in the manhwa, and it was about these flowers too (then I was too lazy to write, lol).

I can't say for sure if you've read the novel or know some parts, but I'll try to speak only based on the manhwa to avoid sudden spoilers! All the more, it will be interesting to see what hints are already left to the readers ^^

Firstly... I thought it was actually Derrick, Reynold, and Penelope—... but your observations are quite valid and also interesting!

And that is why let's consider both options~!

We first saw these flowers in chapter 105 during a conversation between Penelope and Derrick.

Derrick's office has space, nothing superfluous, everything in a strict style, and dark/cool colors. The only things that catch our eye because of their colors and more attention in the art are these three flowers and the cage with the bird.

You rightly point out that we see these flowers again in chapter 153 during Derrick and Ivonne's conversation. That is, they appear in a conversation with both daughters of the duke, who have different moods and goals, but Derrick's attitude towards both of them is revealed.

1) Derrick, Reynold, and (og?)Penelope.

The blue and pink flowers are Derrick and Reynold respectively, and the crimson flower is obviously Penelope. Interestingly, Penelope's flower is full of additional details unlike the other two, giving the impression of a crystalline material.

Blue and pink flowers stand looking at the sun's rays, but in different directions. However, their different paths, different views, and characters don't prevent them from standing next to each other, with their backs to each other.

The crimson flower stands in the shade, separated from the other two flowers. Tbh I associate it more with the Original Penelope and the situation that existed for six years.

And again, during the conversation in chapters 105-106, Derrick does not say that he does not care at all about Penelope. In his own way, he shows concern. He softened when Penelope was upset about the position of Eckles, said that he wanted to get Penelope out of prison with his methods. Because he is also responsible for her.

But Derrick can not understand Penelope and does not always listen to her words. And his feelings are different from those towards Ivonne.

Still, it's in the next chapter (or 156) that you will notice one important change.

2) Derrick, Penelope, and Ivonne.

Kind person, your words made me look at these flowers in the context of chapter 153 differently!

This fragment of the conversation was shown to us earlier than it was in the novel... and in a certain sense I approve of such a decision on the part of SUOL-nim.

Not just so I could see Derrick's nice suit, of course, hehehe~

Okay, back to the position of the flowers! In this context, all the flowers look in different directions, similar to the previous one, however-!

The blue flower is close to pink, yes, but it's like... hesitation? Derrick, unlike his father and younger brother, didn't want to believe until the last that Ivonne wouldn't return home. No, it is better to say that she is dead. But his flower looks at none of the other flowers.

This chapter gives us a chance to glimpse some of Derrick's feelings. His pain, guilt, and cracked mask of calmness. He wants to believe that his sweet little sister is back. He didn't want Ivonne to suffer and be away from her family all these years, Derrick worries that she would feel sad during Penelope's coming-of-age ceremony.

But at the same time, he cannot completely ignore Penelope and his attitude towards her. He even looks at the bird, thinking exactly of the one to whom it should have belonged.

It's quite interesting that his eyes don't have that blue light that indicates brainwashing. It's no exception that Ivonne has already used the mirror shard on Derrick, but it's generally Derrick's most sincere feelings.

Does this foreshadow Derrick favoring Ivonne over Penelope? Quite possible. But it will not be a very easy choice, behind which there will be something deeper and... ambiguous.

Derrick will look back at Ivonne. Derrick will think of her as the Ivonne he lost six years ago. But this doesn't mean that Penelope doesn't occupy any place in his heart.

This doesn't mean that he will react indifferently when it comes to Penelope.

Still, I think that Derrick himself cannot fully understand what he feels. Has guesses, has doubts. The fact that he may be a wonderful heir to the dukedom does not mean that he will also understand from the first time why he reacts in one way or another.

Especially me. For example, I like to look for the reason for the actions of certain characters, and only then give a subjective opinion as to whether it sounds convincing or justifies the character. Sorry, Derrick, I understand you, but I can't justify it.

The fact is that the story is also based on Penelope's face. First, it forms the reader's attitude towards some characters. And I did not see in the novel that there was a scene that would make me say "No, Penelope, you think so, but in fact everything is completely different!"

The next chapter will show what step Derrick dares to take.

But with these details SUOL-nim really leaves us little hints. It's both interesting for those who read the manhwa and a pleasant surprise for those who read the novel.

Actually, I have pretty superficial findings and research, and I may not be saying everything that is on my mind... and I should have written about this before this long post, where there is a lot of water in the text—

But I really thought the topic was quite interesting for discussion, and maybe other readers or you want to add something! Thank you very much!! <3

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 12

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. In the aftermath of Tom's simple but complicated favor, Parker is forced to finally face reality, and decide once and for all what she wants.

Read the story here: prev / ...

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Melissa's voice echoed across the empty store, each syllable raspy and drawn out, tinged with the same sort of disbelief that has been simmering in Parker's chest all day. "But holy fuck."

The disbelief spirals and explodes, and Parker can't the help the laugh that is startled out of her from the unexpected curse.

"Excuse me," she drawled, aiming for levity, but falling somewhere in the realm of pure shock. "But since when do you curse?"

"Since about eleven am this morning," Melissa chirped back. She's slouched in the reading chair, hair piled on the top of her head in a janky bun, mascara smeared all along her cheeks, and if Parker hadn't been so thrown off by her sudden use of French, she might have taken a moment to reflect on the fact that this is the most out of sorts she has ever seen the girl look. "It just seemed like a good time to start. And, honestly? I kind of get it now. There really is no other way to express yourself properly, is there? Because—I mean seriously, Park—what the fuck?"

Parker knew that she should be scolding the young girl for her language. The last thing she needed was to garner the wrath of a disgruntled mom on top of everything else that she's dealing with. More importantly, she really didn't want teaching the youth curse words to be on her yearly karma bingo card. But... honestly, Parker couldn't help but agree.

There really was no better way to put it.

"Touché."

"Did you know that he was going to post that?"

Parker arched her brow at Melissa. "Do you think I would have left you to cover the shift alone if I knew that this was going to happen? I don't even follow his Instagram. Although, guess I have to after this, don't I?"

Melissa rolled her eyes, head lolling to the side as she stretched out her arms, back, and neck. "Only you would get an exclusive shout-out from the Tom Ryder and you aren't even following his Insta. Totally unfair, by the way."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is my sudden luck raining on your plans somehow?"

"It's not luck."

Parker slumped on her elbows, a pen stuck sideways in her mouth as she tried to work through her to-do list for closing down the shop. It was hard to concentrate with Melissa's jabbering, though, and it was even harder to find the energy to sweep the shop when she'd much rather just collapse onto her bed. "What else would it be?"

Melissa blinked at her with a tart expression. "Um, hello? You're dating Tom Ryder. That might have something to do with it."

So surprised by the comment, Parker scratched a line across her notepad, and subsequently decided that her to-do list could wait till later. "We're not—I'm not dating Tom."

"Sure," the girl snorted. "He just hangs around your shop all the time, invites you over for parties, gets dinner with you, and—oh yeah—posts you on his Instagram."

"He didn't post me—"

"But, whatever," she continued, already moving on to the next topic. Parker watched as she bent forward and, with a grimace, tried to rub some feeling into her ankles. "I lost feeling in my toes, like, three hours ago. Is that bad? I mean, I'm not gonna have to get an amputation or anything, will I? Because I'm not missing out on Stacy Jordan's sweet sixteen because of you. Her parents rented out this huge dance hall, and they even hired a DJ."

Parker sighed.

Melissa's train of thought was something that she would never be able to keep up with, and today in particular she did not have the stamina to even try. Sourly, she said, "I told you that those shoes weren't very supportive—"

A book is lobbed in her direction, and Parker ducked behind the register before it can make contact.

The loud fwap of it hitting the ground echoes between the two.

"That better not have been a new edition."

"Oh, fuck off," Melissa said.

Parker returned from her hiding spot—back aching when she sits up, neck hurting when she props herself atop an elbow, eyes burning as she squints at the largest stack of receipts she's ever had before—and clucked her tongue. "You know I think I like this new you. You should curse more often."

"Pf. You just want to get rid of the swear jar."

"Well," she hedged, eyes darting to said jar, "it would save me some money. Unless you feel like paying up anytime soon. That's, what, three f-words? I'm not going to turn my nose up at fifteen bucks anytime soon."

Melissa gave an unbothered snort. "You wish."

"So, it's just a punishment for me, then?"

"You won't even need that thing after this week," she pressed on, sinking deeper into the worn out plush of the reading chair as her gaze slowly drifted across the bookstore. The shelves are the emptiest they've ever been, and the decorations they worked meticulously hard to find are in disarray from the constant throng of customers today. It's not a problem they've had before, having to reset the store after closing, but Parker supposes that's a good problem to have. "My feet hurt because of how busy we were, not because of my shoes—which, by the way, I had to wait in line for two hours to get—they will be supportive if I want them to be. Does this mean you'll finally hire Emily?"

"Emily?"

"My best friend. I've introduced you, like, ten times."

Parker conjured up a blurry image of a blonde girl, identical to Melissa in every way except for their different colored hair and eyes, with matching braces to boot. She thought she was nice, but, honestly, she can't really recall. Whatever. "Why would I hire Emily?"

Melissa scowled. "Well, that's rude. Just because she's my best friend doesn't mean that we're going to goof off or anything. She's just as hard of a worker as I am. You'd practically be getting two employees for the price of one if you hired her. Plus, it would drive Maddy H crazy if Emily got to work at Tom Ryder's bookstore and she didn't."

"It's not—" Parker started, before shaking the thought away. Bigger things to focus on, she reminded herself. "I thought we talked about this. I can give you a raise, but I can't afford to hire someone else."

"Uh, correction, you couldn't afford to hire someone else."

Parker puts the stack of receipts away, mind slowly but surely drifting to the next task as she attempts to lock the register down. She would definitely have to stop at the bank tomorrow to deposit their cash from the day—not a problem she had ever had before—and she mentally adds that to the list of musts. "Did I win the lottery without knowing it or something?"

Her question hangs flat in the air, and in response, Melissa curls a disbelieving look in her direction. "You're kidding, right? Did you see how busy we were today?"

"Right, listen," Parker started, but by how intense Melissa's eyeroll was, it was obvious that the teenager would not, in fact, be listening. "One good day of sales doesn't override an entire quarter of awful sales. This was just—just a fluke. I can't just hire Emily on a whim because we had one nice day. Ever heard of a rainy day fund?"

Melissa, hand in the air as she inspects the damage to her manicure, scoffed. "Yeah, but it's not just one good day."

"Are you secretly working at a different bookstore in your free time or something?"

"Oh my god," Melissa moaned, before dropping her boots to the ground with a heavy thud. "Right, you listen."

"Oh, here we go—"

"Park, I know you're big on self decrepitation and whatever—something I'm guessing you learned from your total has been of a brother—"

"Wow. You know, you two have got to figure out whatever this beef is about," Parker interrupted, only to be promptly ignored as Melissa stood.

"But this isn't just going to die down," she said, the stack of bangles on her wrists jangling as she made air quotes to emphasize her point. "Tom Ryder gave you a personal shout-out on his Instagram. That, like, never happens. The only things he posts are selfies, and paid promotions. In February, he posted a three second video about his Erewhon smoothie, and they're still selling out on the daily."

Parker frowned. "Smoothie?"

"So not the point," Melissa grumbled with another jingle of her bracelets. "The point is that this—" she gestured around them, to the bookshelves and the roof and the chair beneath her with one long sweeping motion, "just hit the jackpot. Kay? This is going to go viral, and when it does, you're going to have crowds like today every day."

That doesn't sound right. Parker knows that Tom is famous, that he has millions of followers on all of his social media, and that there are fangirls out there of his even more obsessed with what he does than the one scowling across the room from her. But just because he posted her store doesn't mean that she's going to have throngs of fans outside, day after day.

That sort of thing just... didn't happen.

Not to people like her.

Right?

"Okay, well, I mean," she started, struggling to put her thoughts into words after all of her braincells effectively went on vacation for the weekend. The cash register snapped shut with a metallic clang, and she dangled the key between her hands mindlessly. "Even if we go viral, we'll be popular for a bit, but not for, like, ever. A month, maybe."

Melissa blinked at her in that sort of way that means she's judging her, and when she hefts herself to a stand, Parker can feel the lecture about to come. "Look, I know you're a millennial and you aren't really active online, so I'll break it down for you."

"How gracious," she snarked, rolling her eyes.

"It's going to be like this—like it was today—for weeks. Until something new or something better comes along, but even then you're going to have Influencers coming in for pictures, wanting to stake a claim on this place just like Tom did. Okay? Which means more pictures, more shout-outs, and more people seeing this place on their FYPs."

"FY—?"

"So, yeah, maybe this place isn't going to stay viral forever, but that just means it's all the more important to capitalize on the attention while you can. If people are flocking here just to get stuck in long lines because there's only one employee during the day, then they're going to lose interest faster."

"I know how business work," Parker interjected, offended on her own behalf, but Melissa didn't seem to care one way or the other about her feelings.

"So you know that you need to dress to impress."

Parker narrowed her eyes at the girl shrewdly. She was staring to get that familiar feeling in her gut that Melissa was winding up for some big scheme, and previous experience had proven that when Melissa really wanted something, Parker was helpless but to give in. "Is this just some big production so I'll hire a bunch of your little cheerleading friends?"

The face she made was lethal. "First off, Emily doesn't cheer, she does dance, and that sort of tone is both condescending and so not cool. Secondly, it's an excuse to hire someone else so I don't get stuck like I did today when my boss decides to go gallivanting around town without her phone!"

"I wasn't gallivanting," she defended. "It was, just, an unfortunate—"

"Parker," Melissa said, leaning on her elbows until they were inches apart. "Hire some more people, or you're going to have to work every shift of this store forever because I don't ever want to experience that rush alone again."

Ugh.

The girl had a serious point—about everything, it seemed—but Parker was in no mood to think about any of that. "I already said I'd give you a raise."

"Well, that is a given," she chirped, gathering her purse and jacket from behind the counter. Parker might have been more put off by her attitude if she didn't think the girl deserved a hearty raise. Afterall, she was a little mastermind in her own right, as terrifying as that could be. "But I'd also like to have extra help, and it's no one's business if that extra help is a couple of my friends from school. I take this job seriously, you know. I wouldn't recommend her if she wouldn't be a good employee."

"You're a menace, you know that, right?"

Melissa smiled, and for the first time all day, it seemed more conniving than tired. "I'll send you her resume."

"No, no, no, that's not what I just—"

"And, anyways, she's just as big of a fan of you and Tom as I am. I mean, obviously, she's never met him, but I tell her everything. She totally ships you two. Probably not as much as I do, obviously," she trailed on, finally getting around to swipe the mascara off her cheeks as she bent even closer into Parker's space, "but she's invested. I think it's totally time you post him on your story."

"My what?"

"I mean, he already posted you. Or, you know, your store," she corrected herself, waving a hand around flippantly as if those were the same thing. And, maybe, in the mind of a teenage fangirl, they were. "Relationships are never official until it's on the page."

"We're not—"

"Have you thought about a ship name, yet?" she barreled on, completely ignoring the fact that every extra word she said was only compounded the migraine growing between Parker's temples. "Because I think Ryvers is so, totally cute, but Emily likes Parom better. Although, that sounds a little—"

"Okay, alright, that's it," Parker stood from her stool, and in the matter of seconds had shooed the teenager outside with as much decorum as she could muster. It was ruined, of course, by the bright red blush sprawling across her face like wild fire. "Goodnight, Melissa. Thank you for your help today, I will see you next week."

"But—"

"Goodbye!"

She shut the door with the jingle of the overhead bell and promptly slumped against it. A few beats passed before Melissa's boots clomped off in the direction of the bus stop, and when it fell silent outside, she glanced around. The store at night, with the main lights switched off and the crackled radio drifting from the corner, felt eerily empty after the busy day they had. And while the trash absolutely needed to be taken out, and the shelves needed to be catalogued for what she would have to put in her upcoming order, for the first time ever, Parker decided that there were some things that could wait until tomorrow.

After all, she had a boy to talk to.

---

"Are we dating?"

Tom, dressed down in some Nike sweats and a simple black tee with sleep marks red on the side of his face, blinked at Parker like she was on drugs. And, honestly, she supposed that was a fair assumption to make. After all, it was nearing midnight by the time she pulled into his driveway, unannounced, her hair mussed like a bird's nest from driving the entire way into the Hills with the windows down, and the anxious energy from the day's chaos had yet to make itself useful other than by adding a shakiness to her hands.

And while she had spent the entire drive over contemplating all the things that she wanted to ask him, the first thing that had come out of her mouth when he opened the door was that.

"What?"

Parker winced, anxiously wringing her hands together, before she pressed inside. She supposed having a mansion in the Hills meant that even the closest neighbors were too far away to hear anything, but the idea that there might be someone witnessing what likely could be considered a mental breakdown was not a comforting thought.

"I didn't mean..." she started, shaking her head, before she stooped to untie her shoes. That proved to be an impossible task with how shaky her hands, were, however, and in the end she just kicked them off with a grunt. "That wasn't what I—well, Melissa seems convinced that we are."

Parker could feel his eyes burrowing into her back, and Parker pointedly avoided eye contact as her cheeks flamed a hot red.

"Melissa," he echoed dully.

Cool, she thought to herself. Just be cool.

But the Seavers siblings were not known for their ability to play it cool, and while he drifted after her, Parker miserably tried to think of a way to explain her squirrel-brained thoughts without sounding like a lunatic.

"Well, you know, you posted me on Instagram."

"I didn't post you on my Instagram," he corrected.

And—shit. Wasn't that exactly what she had argued?

Parker was happy that her back was to him as her face flushed an even more indelicate red. It didn't help that there were lamps on all throughout the living room, orange and yellow hues of lighting casting shadows across her already warm face.

"I know, I know, and I told her exactly that, but she has it in her head that posting, well, my shop is the same thing as posting me and then she wouldn't shut up about it today. And now she wants me to hire her friend who is also convinced that we're, you know, dating, and I told her that she's—that that's not—you know..."

The knit of his brows made it painstakingly obvious that Tom didn't know, and honestly how would he? She didn't even know what she was trying to say.

"I... think I need a drink," she muttered, scurrying to the fridge where she withdrew two ice cold bottles of beer. IPAs were not her favorite by a long shot, but there were far more important things to handle, and without hesitating, Parker popped one open. A long swallow followed before she awkwardly slid the second bottle towards Tom. "Maybe I should start again."

His brows disappeared into his hairline, but the moment she met his eye Parker just knew that he was relishing in this particular conversation.

She planted her elbows on the counter, and caught her head in her hands with a whine. "I really wish that you had given me a heads-up about the post."

Whatever was smug withered and died. "A heads-up?"

"Just so I could have been more prepared, you know," she hedged, fingers nervously plucking at the wet label on her beer bottle. "Between the crowds today and my system freezing and Melissa pestering at me about our—you know—whatever, I feel like I've been running around like a headless chicken. It's been a lot to handle."

He was silent for a long moment, and by the time that she dared to glance at him he had managed to shake off any remaining sleepiness. Now, he scowled at her long and hard. "Right, well, next time I'll make sure to get your approval ahead of time. Should I have changed the picture too? Written a longer post about how much I fucking adore your shitty little store?"

Parker reared back. "Hey, it's not shitty."

"Right," he scoffed, shaking his head at her. "You know, most people would at least hold off on their complaints until after they've said thank you. Common deceny, and all that."

Parker deflated against the counter as Tom looped around the other side of the couch to sit down. There were pillows sprawled across it, a blanket pooling on the ground, and a Tom shaped indent in one of the cushions from where he had been sleeping before she showed up. When he flicked the tv off mute, Parker became increasingly aware of how poorly this conversation was going.

She took a deep breath and a long dreg of her beer before carefully seating herself on the table smack dab in his line of view. When he refused to give in, however, she took the remote out of his hand and flicked the tv off with a huff.

"Tom—"

But he wasn't having any of it, and he rolled his eyes at her so intensely that it must have hurt. "Oh, fuck. Look, if you're going to make this into some big lecture or whatever you can save us both the time and effort. I already spent the day dealing with this bullshit from Gail. I don't need it from you too."

As almost every mention of his producer did, that caught her off guard. "Gail?"

"Yeah, imagine that," he scoffed. "I try to do something nice, for once, and the first thing she does is yell at me because of it. And now you're here doing the same thing, and I don't even know what I expected, but it sure as shit isn't—"

"Why would she yell at you?" she interrupted.

He finished half of his beer in a swallow. "Why do you think?"

She wasn't sure. That was half the reason she asked the question, but when he tensed—as if preparing for that exact sort of answer—Parker's mouth snapped shut just as quickly as it had opened.

Why would Gail be upset?

Sure, she was his producer, and likely was miffed about missing out on her fee, but it wasn't like a percentage of twenty grand would have had any real impact on her salary. After all, Tom hadn't minced his words earlier when talking about how much of his yearly income went to the movie mogul. And Parker had seen her house; the woman wasn't going to be pinching pennies any time soon unless she was robbed at gunpoint. And even then she would probably benefit from her high profile connections.

Which meant if it wasn't the money that she cared about, it must have been...

Realization was a painful thing, and Parker rounded towards Tom with wide eyes. "She's upset because you did this without asking her?"

Another swallow of his beer. "I told you that I don't do stuff without asking her."

"But you did this time."

"Because she would have fucking said no," he ground out, distaste over even having to admit it obvious from his tone. "Which is fucking—I mean, it's my fucking life. I can do what I want. Should be able to, anyway. I'm the one making her money, but I do this one thing and she's all pissed off about it. You know how small that makes me feel? That she would even expect me to get permission from her?"

"Tom," she said, only to have him steamroll on.

"It's bullshit. Total bullshit."

"Tom," she tried again when he didn't seem to hear her.

But whatever floodgate he had opened wasn't closing anytime soon, and Parker felt her chest constrict. "Everything I do is because she tells me to do it. I don't even chose who I sponsor. But I do one post without her permission and get shit for it. And apparently, not just from her. Because you're here too, pissed that I didn't tell you ahead of time, and it's like no matter what I do it's—"

Not knowing what else to do, but knowing that she had to do something, Parker lurched forward to sling her arms around his neck. He went stiff beneath her touch, freezing as she attempted to pull him to her, before his hands slowly bracketed around her waist.

"What are you—?"

"I'm sorry," she muttered. Then, when that wasn't enough—because how could that ever be enough—she tightened her hold on him hoping that it might convey what she didn't know how to say. Parker shook her head into the crook of his neck, swallowing. "Fuck, Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't come over here to yell at you. I swear I didn't. I'm not even mad, I don't know why I said that thing about the heads-up, I just... I just was so overwhelmed today that I didn't know what to say or how to bring it up or thank you that I just—I just word vomited. Okay? I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry."

"Hey," he said, arms tightening around her. "It's okay."

But it wasn't okay, and he had to know that. "But it's not, Tom. You just—you just changed my life, you know? What you did... I've never had that many people in my store before, and they were lined up, and the line didn't dissipate all day! I think I sold, like, half my inventory because of you, and if that continues even for a month then I'll be able to actually finance my store and I won't have to close and... I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

She leaned back to find Tom frowning at her. "It was just a post."

"To you, and to Gail," she said, finally being able to express what she had been stewing on all day. "But to me... it's everything. I don't know how I'll ever be able to pay you back."

"Pay me back?"

"I mean, I could give you some of the profit, but it probably won't be much. Especially since I still have loans to pay off, and I need to get insurance, and fix the AC, and maybe even hire some new staff, but I'm sure I could give you percentage. Like, a little over time, and it definitely won't be much, but—"

She didn't realize she was rambling until Tom shook her. "I don't want you to pay me back, Park."

"But—"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head at her. One of his hands twisted into the cotton of her sweater, and for the first time that night, as he ducked his head to avoid her gaze Parker realized that maybe he was just as anxious about this entire thing as she was. "I owe you, okay. Not the other way around."

Parker couldn't think of anything more ridiculous than that, and her brows furrowed a divot into her forehead. "What are you talking about?"

He released a chuckle of disbelief, the sound low and raspy in his throat. "I know I'm an asshole. What you said when we first met, that day on the set, it pissed me off so much because... you were right, and no one else had ever bothered to tell me. I'm an asshole to staff and to the crew and to your fucking brother, but do you seriously think I'm blind to all the things that you've done for me?"

Floundering for words—and thoughts—all she could do was blink at him.

Tom glanced away, fingers wrapping themselves into her shirt, skating a burning line over her skin. "You—you're..." he started, before drifting off. Clearly, she wasn't the only person struggling to put their thoughts into words tonight, but Parker was too dumbfounded by the fact that Tom Ryder was admitting to be an asshole above all else, that she couldn't find the energy to interrupt him. "No one has ever... held me accountable before."

Even more bewildered then before, she stared at him. "And that's... a good thing? Because I thought that drove you crazy? I mean—"

"God, of course it drives me crazy," he cut her off with another chuckle. "But you do it because—because you see something in me that no one else does, you know? You see... me. Not the rich, famous me that everyone else sees and takes advantage of, but the asshole on the inside that no one else likes. Do you know how many people have found me in the bathroom like you did? Do you know how none of them have ever cared before?"

Parker's hands skated around his neck, desperate for something to hold onto, to feel, as she gently flattened them out on his chest. "You don't owe me anything for that," she said, shaking her head. "You didn't have to do this just to make up for that. I like being in your life, being your friend, your... I think more people care about you than you think, Tom."

He swallowed, and her eyes tracked the movement of his throat. "And you're the only person in my life that would say shit like that and mean it."

"Of course I mean it. I wouldn't lie to you."

"I know," he said, hands drifting further up her back, a connection that she didn't dare break as they settled into the groove of her spine. "And that's why I did it. So I don't want anything from you, alright? I just... want to give you this. Fuck Gail, fuck my social media manager, fuck all of them. Just this once I want to do something for someone else. Well, no, even that's a lie. Not for someone else, but for you."

Parker bit her lip, feeling her heart thump against her chest, and she was certain that he must have felt it too as she leaned against him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "You're—just... you're not like other girls, you know that?"

Despite the tension growing between them, the softness of the moment and the tender way he was holding her, Parker couldn't keep back a startled laugh. And when she did laugh, Tom's hands paused in their movements, brows knitting a second time as he watched her with something wary struck across his features.

"Sorry, sorry," she said almost immediately, biting her lip, only for another giggle to escape. He looked truly put off then, and she carefully skated her hands back around his neck. "I just... sorry, I'm not laughing at you. That just so sounded like a line."

The wariness vanished, replaced by irritable fondness, and his hands pressed her closer. "Yeah, well," he said, that oh-so familiar smugness of his curling his mouth upwards. "What if it was?"

"Oh?"

He shrugged, pressing on. "Lots of girls would kill to hear that kind of line from Tom Ryder, you know? You should consider yourself lucky."

"I thought I wasn't like other girls."

"You're not. No other girl has ever driven me fucking crazy like you do."

"Flattering," she snarked. But the skate of his hands was starting to ignite a nervous fluttering in her stomach, and as her nails dug into his shirt, Parker could barely maintain a sense of decorum as she smirked at him. "Well? Go on then."

"With?"

"You've given me a line. I'm interested in seeing what other sorts of moves the famous Tom Ryder has to woo the ladies. You want to show me your wine cellar? Art collection? Is there a disco ball that comes down from your ceiling if I clap?"

His entire torso shook as he laughed. "See what I mean? You're drive me fucking crazy."

"Ah, maybe, but that wasn't a no—"

Parker swore that a single kiss from Tom Ryder had the ability to set her entire body alight. Sometimes, she wondered if he felt it too; the way the pads of his thumbs would trail a burning line along her skin or how her hands got shaky as she trailed them up into his hair. His hands certainly didn't shake; not when they pulled her sweater over her head or drifted along the length of her legs, fingers dipping into the ticklish spot behind her knees, tugging her impossibly closer before moving up, up, up...

This time, there was no party to return to, no busybodies to avoid or assistants needing Tom's attention in between fittings on set, and most importantly no phone to chirp at them or brother to distract.

There was just her and him, Parker and Tom.

And when the tension between them—once ugly and mean and festering and awful, now golden and beautiful and, maybe even destined—finally broke, she realized that it wasn't so bad to have someone to drive crazy; perhaps, even, it was the spark that she had been missing.

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Saw someone saying that most people in the "bnha critical" hashtag mostly just "suck deku's dick" instead of actually criticizing the story. The same person also had another post basically saying that the reason why midoriya gets treated so poorly by the narrative is because every other character's traits were "erased(?) to make up for midoriya's bland character*" * I don't remember their exact words, but they said something similar to that

Those two posts gave me such a headache that I blocked them immediately

I really hate it when people say this.

I’m going to be honest, as someone who likes Izuku, there’s things you can definitely criticize about Izuku’s character. I think that he’s far too naive in certain situations and doesn’t get called out for it much. Him trying to see good in Overhaul is one of those instances. I think he suffers immensely from selective intelligence. He’s supposed to be great at thinking on his feet yet it takes him very long to realize that he could be throwing more kicks. I also think that as the story progresses, he becomes far less creative with his quirks. You get some rare moments like him using Black Whip from his mouth after being inspired by Tsuyu, but we rarely get these moments of his intelligence anymore. He’s also not allowed to really reflect on his past, so he’s extremely stagnant in regards to his views about things such as his quirkless past and the bullying he’s suffered from Katsuki.

However, Izuku isn’t a bland character. The problem is he has a bad writer. We could’ve seen more of his and Ochako’s relationship. Unlike many other relationships, the two are built around the idea that they constantly have each other’s backs. I wanna see more of this. I wanna see more of them bonding. Maybe Ochako asks Izuku for some hand to hand combat training. Maybe Izuku learns more about Ochako’s life/ her hobbies and tries to plan things for them to do that they both enjoy. Maybe they can have a heart to heart about constantly being underestimated and being a part of a group that is looked down upon (Ochako being poor and Izuku being quirkless). With Tenya, maybe the two can study together. Tenya’s great at retaining information but Izuku’s better at being creative, so they can help each other there. They could talk about their feelings of anger and how they feel they have a large legacy to uphold. With Shoto, we can have Izuku and him explore what a normal healthy friendship is like. We can have them confide in each other about the abuse they’ve been through and about their relationships with their moms. These are things that could easily be explored with a character like Izuku and Hori has set up the building blocks of Izuku’s character that allows for these things to be explored. The problem is that Hori doesn’t do any of this. We’re expected to believe that the DekuSquad are close knit with each other, but we don’t see them interacting in anything that isn’t related to heroics. We don’t see much of Izuku’s creativity anymore. He has numerous quirks, but even if some overlap with the others, there are cool combos a hero nerd like him could come up with, but instead Hori would rather have him do the exact same things over and over again. The way Hori writes Katsuki also hurts Izuku’s character. Outside of the first chapter, Izuku’s never allowed to show anything other than fear and admiration for Katsuki. He’s never allowed to be unique or else he’ll utterly surpass Katsuki in something (Katsuki’s latest B.S power up is an example of this). He’s not allowed to reflect on Katsuki’s bullying and the effect it has on him nor is he able to hang out with anyone without Katsuki being nearby or involved.

Long rant, I know, but the point is that while there’s certainly things you can criticize about Izuku’s character, most of the issues with Izuku doesn’t come from being a bad character but from being written by a bad writer who prioritizes other things over developing his MC