#which for some reason completely changed my mind about watching the show

[oifaaa]

By weird dub, do you mean the 4kids one which like edited out guns and blood and made every character make puns all the time? Because that's the weirdest dub I know of and the one that most English speakers found first... Which has led to a lot of those same people thinking One piece was not a good series.... So if that's the one, I wholeheartedly understand why you couldn't get through it.

Yep that's the one honestly from what I remember it was like a pg version of an abridged series it wasn’t great

[gay-dorito-dust]

How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …

Dick: a solid 8.5/10.

A very clingy bean.

Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.

In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’

And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀

‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.

‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.

So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.

Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.

The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.

He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.

At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.

Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.

For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.

Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.

He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.

Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.

However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.

This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.

‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.

‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.

You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.

You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’

Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10

He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.

Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.

He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.

It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.

It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…

[risestarkiss]

Orange, Baby!

Rise Ramblings #316

When I think about Mikey, this scene always comes to mind.

As soon as they step foot in the library to save Mayhem, Angelo instantly disqualifies himself…hilariously.

On first watch, I found it interesting that he made this decision with no hesitation, especially given the stakes.

At the time I just resigned to him being a silly silly boy, but now I know better.

Yet, before we get ahead of ourselves, let’s explore who Mikey is.

Michelangelo Hamato is the youngest turtle in the family, and it shows.

Consequently, he seems to possess a certain “youngest brother privilege" that his other brothers just can’t help but reinforce. This is the role that Mikey was born into. Therefore, he doesn’t have to push himself to be the smartest, or cleverest, or strongest turtle.

Instead, he decides to be the artist of the family. He’s a creative! He expresses himself everywhere, from stickers on his own shell, to tagging the lair, as well as on paper. The world is his canvas!

Michelangelo also expresses himself in virtually everything he does, so it’s easy to understand why he’s the most open, honest, caring, and emotionally expressive turtle of the bunch. To some it could be seen as a weakness, yet Mikey uses his emotional intelligence as a pillar of strength, of which he utilizes to uphold his brothers when they need support the most.

In the show, Michelangelo often takes on certain personas; Doctor Feelings and Doctor Delicate Touch. (For some reason, they are all doctors, but that’s beside the point.)

At first glance, the personas could be seen as silly bouts of make-believe. But I think that placing these roles upon himself for his brothers' sake is Michelangelo’s way of helping them cope with the world by offering them what they each individually lack.

For instance, Raph, Leo, and Donnie have trouble voicing their discomforts when someone does something they don’t like.

In other words, they have trouble putting their foot down.

But here is Mikey to the rescue!

Dr. Delicate Touch has no such hang-ups.

Similarly, when Donatello runs into trouble, as he is unable to recognize his own emotions, it’s up to Doctor Feelings to help his desperate client in need.

Through taking on these roles, Mikey is able to support his brothers and fill the emotional gaps in his teammates, which, inevitably makes them all stronger.

How is Mikey able to do this and how does he have the strength to take on these roles?

You could think that it’s just in his character, meaning, it’s just how he is. I don’t think so, though. He’s a free thinker, and a creative, but there’s something about these roles that is specifically catered to the needs of his family.

Then I realized, the only reason that Mikey is able to help his brothers in this way is because they first helped him.

Let me explain.

All four of the boys grew up in the same household. Although Splinter tried his very best (there is no Splinter hate here), a single depressed parent doth not a stable child make. Raphael struggled with the burden of his responsibilities as an ad hoc leader (see Being Big Red), Leo struggled with expressing his natural talents as a middle child (see Being Baby Blue), all while Donnie struggled with carving out his place on the team and his feelings of uselessness (see Being Purple Part One and Part Two).

Well, what does Mikey struggle with?

In my humble opinion, nothing.

The struggles of his brothers all related to each turtle coming to terms with themselves and coming to terms with their place on the team.

Yet, due to the love and support of his brothers and father, Michelangelo never had to ask himself if he belonged, struggle with his role on the team, or make huge life-changing decisions that could affect everyone.

Michelangelo is free to just be Michelangelo.

And as a free spirit who is completely in tune with his own emotions, he is able to do things like this:

and this,

and this.

Let’s get back to the scene in the library.

Angelo sees the high stakes of his friend’s pet disappearing forever if they fail but makes the decision to disqualify himself anyway. Why? Because he knows that no matter what he does, it will all be ok.

He has complete faith in his brothers and their ability to solve the problem at hand, so he might as well have some fun.

This not the first time he’s come to this conclusion.

Through out this entire scene, Michelangelo plays in the background.

It’s scenes like this that makes me believe that Mikey’s faith in his family knows no bounds.

Altogether, his brothers and his father were everything he needed to become who he is. Reciprocally, he is free to be everything that they need him to be and more. Over…

and over,

and over again

he trusts them completely.

And through this unwavering trust in his family, he is able to trust himself and his instincts. He knows that with everything they’ve poured into him, he can save them from, well, everything. Over…

and over…

and over again.

Hence, due to all of this evidence, I believe that through the collective love of his family, Michelangelo became the best version of the Hamato spirit, and thus, the best Mystic Warrior of all time.

All because, he’s Orange, baby!

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red • Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[hotpinkstars]

ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader

- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?

- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!

- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067

Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right). 

You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it. 

Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her. 

You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from. 

He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.

Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.

You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks. 

He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he’d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough. 

He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on. 

He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.

Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too. 

All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him. 

“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.

“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.” 

You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.

“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”

He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!

“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”

His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”

“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.

[disaster-writer]

Teenage Dirtbag (Part 2/3)

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x Reader

Summary: You and Rodrick Heffley grew up right next door to each other. You’re best friends and nothing could ever change that… at least that’s what you’ve always thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I broke part 2 up into two so there will now be three parts to this fic

Part 1

“This is so weird,” Greg whispered to David and Rowley, both currently sitting on either side of him, all three of them crowded around the TV as Greg played Twisted Wizard “Are they still doing it?”

Rowley glanced behind him, “Yeah…” he answered uneasily, “Did something happen?”

"Not that I know of," David shrugged.

"Me neither."

All three of them turned around again, the sight sending a chill down their spines.

It should have been just like any other Saturday. Rodrick grounded as usual. You coming over to hang out with Rodrick despite his punishment. Greg and his friends playing video games. And both parents out with Manny.

Only it wasn't like any other Saturday. Because instead of choosing to hang out in Rodrick's room or torturing the kids (which tended to be your only hobbies you could think of when one of you was grounded), both you and Rodrick were sitting on either side of the couch, an entire cushion apart and stiff as a board. You guys weren't talking-- in fact Greg could have sworn you guys haven't even looked at each other since you showed up. All you two were doing was watching the video game as well. It was so out of character for you both that the boys were completely creeped out... they were starting to wish you two were all over each other like usual just to have that sense of normalcy... even if that meant hunting them down and beating on them or making fun of them.

It was your fault really. You thought you could just show up to the Heffley's and hang out with Rodrick, pretending that nothing happened last night.

Turns out a teenage boy can't just pretend that they didn't witness their best friend dancing around completely naked. And turns out you can't just pretend your best friend didn't see you in all your glory.

You played with the rings on your fingers, fidgeting to try and distract yourself from the elephant in the room. Should you bring it up and try to laugh it off? Try and carry on as if he saw nothing? Maybe a subtle joke about making sure your blinds were closed before getting changed?

Fuck-- nothing this mortifying has ever happened to you before. 

You and your friends were practically known for being too stupid to be embarrassed about anything. There was nothing that you guys ever did that kept you from showing your faces around school. Not the time that Rodrick made a complete fool of himself at Heather's Sweet 16 and still having the audacity to ask her out right after, not the time you and the rest of Löded Diper were hanging out backstage during an assembly and you told the guys you thought Mr. Andrews was hot without knowing that the overhead mic's were on and the entire assembly heard you, and not even the time you and the guys delivered a presentation high out of your fucking minds.

But for some reason, even though Rodrick was the only other person involved, you felt liked you'd never be able to live this down.

"Cool!" David exclaimed, "My mom just texted me that she can take all of us out for ice cream right now!"

"Really!?" Rowley shouted excitedly.

"Awesome! Let's go!" Greg said, pausing the game and throwing the controller on the ground as the boys then ran for the door and got their shoes on before running outside to meet your mom.

And now... that makes two.

You both continued to sit awkwardly, twiddling your thumbs and shifting in your seats.

You don't know how much time passed before Rodrick was the one to break the silence.

"So..." you pursed your lips, waiting for the bomb, "You never told me you had a tattoo on your hip."

At that you folded in on yourself, burying your face in your hands, "Let's not do this," you groaned out, words muffled by your hands. "It's too embarrassing."

"It wasn't that bad," Rodrick tried to offer.

"Yes it was. That was completely humiliating last night."

“It could’ve been worse.”

”Yeah? How?” You grumbled into your hands.

”I mean…” he trailed off, picking at a pink thread from his jeans, “You could… have the body of a sixty year old…”

You paused, “How would I— y’know what? Nevermind,” you stood up, “I’m gonna go. It’s too weird, maybe when we’ve both had some space—“

”No!” Rodrick grasped your wrist, stopping you short, “You don’t need to leave— I’m telling you it wasn’t that bad!”

You set your jaw, looking down at him. The sudden nervousness that radiated from him was palpable as he broke eye contact, glanced down at where his hand wrapped around your wrist and quickly let go.

”See! Right there!”

”Right there what!?” He yelled back, staring at his lap with a growing blush.

”This is weird and I’m going—“ 

Just as you took another step Rodrick shot up from his seat, “No it’s not! We just need to do something normal—once we hang out like normal we’ll forget all about it!”

”Like what?” You crossed your arms, looking at him skeptically.

”Like- like,” you watched as Rodrick frantically searched his brain for an idea, “We can go to the arcade!”

”You’re grounded dumbass,” you rolled your eyes.

”Susan’s not gonna be home for at least another three hours. We can go for two and be back and she’ll never know!”

You shifted on your feet, weighing your options. You could both get in trouble yes, but it did beat being bored at home or spending the next three hours in uncomfortable silence.

And you suppose he had a point. The event was still fresh and was just weighing heavily on your minds. Time would heal the awkward air and getting back into the swing of things would hopefully ease the awkwardness.

Pretty soon you’d both forget the entire thing even happened.

——

”What are you doing?”

Rodrick had pulled away so quickly from his blinds you would have thought they had burned him.

”Nothing you little shit— what are you doing in my room!” He had spat at Greg who stood awkwardly by his steps.

”Mom says dinner is ready— are you spying on (Y/N) or something?”

”No,” his voice cracked to which he quickly cleared, “Get out!” He scrambled to yank his shoe off which he had then chucked at his younger brother.

”Okay!” Greg yelled before stumbling down the stairs.

Rodrick Heffley was convinced that he was losing his mind. 

It had been five nights since he had witnessed you dancing around naked in your bedroom. 

In other words, it had been five nights checking to see if he could catch you dancing around naked again.

He couldn’t help it. He was a teenage boy that had never seen a girl naked that wasn’t in a magazine or online.

And until recently he didn’t even believe you had all those same… parts as the girls he stared at.

But you did. And he saw them. And he came to the fast realization that he wanted to see them again.

And gingerly, for the umpteenth time that night, he had stuck his fingers into his blinds and pulled it down to peak through them.

You were still sitting in bed in your Löded Diper t-shirt, trying to catch up on what he assumed to be late homework.

He had truly fooled himself into thinking things could go back to normal. You had always been one of the guys— an honorable member of Löded Diper, you were practically the manager at this point. You had both grown up together and probably spent more time with each other than with your own respective siblings. 

It’s been five days, he should be past this by now.

But he wasn’t.

Instead he started to notice all the things that made you a girl— an actual breathing girl that wanted to talk to him.

He had never noticed just how girlish your laugh was, it typically ended with a snort to which he would always scrunch his nose at but as it turned out the melodic laughter that preceded those snorts was actually quite… cute— in a way.

Even the simple gesture of you brushing your hair back behind your ear had made— what was the saying? Well, whatever it was it made him feel like moths were chewing at his stomach lining.

Or even—

“Rodrick!”

His blinds snapped shut upon removing his fingers, “I’m coming!” He called back in annoyance before stomping downstairs.

Making his way into the dining room, he found his family had already started eating without him— not that he really gave a shit. He wordlessly plopped down in his seat and picked up his fork.

He stabbed the meat on his plate and took a bite out of it, not bothering to cut it, instead opting to let the rest hang off the fork.

His mom had served chicken francese tonight.

Chicken francese was your favorite.

Rodrick grimaced— even chicken was making him think of you.

”What? You don’t like it?” Susan asked with a huff at Rodrick’s reaction.

”What? No—“

”No I don’t want to hear it. If you don’t like it that much then you might as well take it to (Y/N). At least she appreciates my cooking.”

“I can go over to (Y/N)’s? Even though I’m grounded?” He suddenly asked with a mouth full of food and an eagerness that was making Frank raise his eyebrow. He looked about ready to jump out of his seat and run out the front door.

“No!” Susan snapped, affronted, “Eat your dinner. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Rodrick seemed to deflate, picking up the fork he had dropped onto his plate and taking another bite.

A silence fell over the family, the sounds of metal scratching against ceramic and chewing filling the space.

That was until Frank cleared his throat, “So, uh, speaking of (Y/N)…” Rodrick’s head snapped up towards his father in terror, and he shifted nervously… there was no way he actually knew what had happened right? “You two seem closer…” he trailed off awkwardly.

Rodrick glanced at Greg who started snickering— did he know something? Did he tell their dad he had seen you naked? Or maybe that he caught him peeping on you through his blinds before?

He kicked him hard under the table, making the plates and cutlery rattle atop the table.

“Ow!” Greg cried.

”Rodrick!” Susan reprimanded.

”We’ve always been close,” Rodrick answered, ignoring his mom, “Everyone knows that,” he said with an awkward laugh.

”Yeah, but l mean recently—“

”Recently what? Nothing’s changed recently, everything’s the same,” he rambled, scratching the back of his ear with a blush he prayed no one saw.

”Okay, look,” Frank lowered his voice, leaning towards his son, “I wanted to have this conversation in private but your mother—“

”(Y/N) is like family so I think this should be discussed as a family.”

Rodrick’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he glanced at Greg who looked like it was Christmas morning.

”Are you and (Y/N) dating?” Susan asked.

Greg immediately started laughing.

”What? No—“ he looked back and forth between his parents, “It’s (Y/N)— that would be gross, y’know, ew—“ he spluttered, though not as convincingly as he would have a week ago.

”Are you sure?” Frank asked— he clearly wasn’t buying it. “Because your mother brought up a good point the other day. Did something happen between you two over the summer when you went on vacation with your friends?”

Okay, now he was confused.

”Huh?” 

“Because it’s okay if it did,” Susan interjected, “We all love (Y/N), right Greg?”

”Yeah, I guess,” he grumbled with a shrug, stabbing his own chicken.

”Nothing happened on vacation,” Rodrick answered honestly— why would they even think that?

”You’re sure?” Frank asked, “Because you two seem to be a lot closer since that trip.”

Rodrick had to disagree. Nothing happened on that trip. It was mainly spent at Ben’s family’s lake house where you all spent every night getting drunk and every morning hungover. And sure maybe he learned a lot about you and his other friends during that trip as everyone had loose lips due to the alcohol— and okay maybe there was that one really drunken night you and Rodrick ended up getting stuck in the bathroom because the door got jammed but neither of you could remember that night anyway, it was mostly the morning when you both woke up cuddling in the bathtub that—

Rodrick’s face flushed with the memory. 

And that had never happened before, but now the thought of you cuddled up to him with nothing more than a few layers of clothing separating the two of you…— and now he was thinking about you naked again.

Frank looked to Susan at his reaction. It seemed he was getting somewhere.

”Rodrick?” He questioned, trying to get his son to look at him.

His eyes snapped to his father’s as his mouth gaped like a fish, he suddenly shot out of his chair.

”God— what’s with the third degree! We’re just friends” He exclaimed, shrilly, grabbing his dinner and fork, “I plead the fifth!” He was then running back upstairs to his room, leaving his family in stunned silence.

Susan nodded, sure of herself now, “Frank, I think it’s time you had the talk with him—“

”Uh, can I go?” Greg asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

”No, finish your dinner.”

”But Rodrick left—“

”He’s going through a lot of emotions right now, you’ll understand when you’re his age,” she turned back to her husband.

”I’m pretty sure the school gives those talks now, honey,” Frank said uncomfortably.

”Yes, but it’s different when it’s coming from the parents. It might actually be best if we talked to her parents as well and sat the two of them down all together.”

Frank stared at his wife in utter shock… the ideas this woman comes up with…

* * * *

Rodrick ran upstairs, slamming his door shut before landing on his bed and shoveling the food on his plate into his mouth with a sneer as his parents words chirped endlessly in his head.

You and him have always been close, there was zero change in that after that trip. They were just delusional.

Just like there was zero change in your relationship after he saw you naked. Like yeah, maybe he did want to see you naked again but that wasn’t any indication that your relationship changed—

There was a tap at his window.

He dropped his plate on top of his bed, getting green beans and sauce all over his blankets, before practically stumbling over his own two feet to get the blinds up.

There you were, sitting on your roof with a handful of thumbs tacks that you used to throw at his window.

You jumped at his abruptness, hand already poised to throw another thumb tack.

He opened his window, “What?”

You ignored his odd behavior, he was always a weirdo anyways. 

“Bill invited us to go hang in his basement.”

”But I’m grounded.”

”So?” You scoffed.

”Right now? My family’s still up.”

”We can sneak out in like an hour then,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m going whether or not you’re coming.”

”Alright fine,” he hissed, “We can go in an hour.”

”Nice.”

After an hour of waiting and listening to his family get ready for bed from downstairs, Rodrick threw on a hoodie and slipped his sneakers on, and found himself climbing out of his window and onto the roof.

You hadn’t been far behind, not bothering to change out of your pajama shorts and Löded Diper t-shirt, instead adding your own sneakers and a zip up.

Rodrick climbed down the tree between your windows before you did, grabbing onto your waist and helping you down the rest of the way like he has many times before.

But his hands had never burned at the touch before.

”Okay, let’s go,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist and tugging him towards your car.

He stared at your hand wrapped around his wrist.

Have you two always touched this much?

His cheeks felt like they were on fire from all the blood rushing to his head.

Rushing into the car you slammed your doors shut and turned it on, before peeling out of the spot you were parked in in front of your house and down the street.

On the way to Bill’s you almost crashed twice, which was less than usual so you considered it a pretty decent drive.

Parking in front of Bill’s you went to the side door that led straight into the basement he lived in.

His parents must have been out because they always hated when he invited you guys over— something about Bill hanging out with high schoolers not being appropriate.

You skipped down the steps with Rodrick in tow.

”Hello losers!” You greeted, making the others say their own hello’s.

Ben lit up, “Hello, legs,” he said in awe, seeing your bare legs descend the steps before seeing the rest of you.

”Ew,” you rolled your eyes, jumping on Bill’s couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table, reaching over for the open bag of chips by your feet.

Bill had been laying in his bed while Ben and Chris sat on the floor playing some card game.

Rodrick sat beside you, reaching a hand into the chip bag you offered him.

”So what are we doing?” Rodrick asked.

Bill shrugged, “Dunno. I was bored and my family’s out.”

”So you invited us to be bored with you?” You asked, raising a brow.

”Nooo,” he dragged out, “I invited you to entertain me.”

You rolled your eyes, standing back up and making your way to his mini fridge, “Got any beers?” You asked, pulling the door open. Your eyes lit up as they landed on his stash.

Turns out he only had beer. 

You took one out and cracked it open, you grabbed another and tossed it to Rodrick to which he fumbled with a couple times before catching it.

”You didn’t tell us you had beer,” Ben said excitedly, scrambling from his spot on the ground and grabbing the two beers for him and Chris you handed him.

”You saw me drinking for the last hour,” Bill furrowed his eyebrows.

”So how’s the grounding going?” Chris called over his shoulder, taking his drink from Ben as he sat back down.

You took a swig of your own, plopping back down besides Rodrick.

”Well I’m here right now so I’d say it’s going pretty great,” he muttered.

”Susan’s been micromanaging him all week,” you also answered, “So we probably only have about an hour before she goes to check on him.”

”That blows,” Bill said, “Hey,” he suddenly said, getting an idea, “Maybe you should try getting grounded less.”

”Yeah, I’ll work right on that.” 

The next fifteen minutes were filled with idle chit chat about the band and a couple parties that were coming up.

“Again?” Ben scoffed, throwing his cards down. “This is rigged,” He got up from his game.

”Or maybe you just suck,” Chris laughed, grinning as he won yet again, sprawling out on the floor as it seemed they were done for the night, but not before taking a drink of his beer.

Ben made his way over to you, squeezing himself in the tight space between you and the arm rest of the couch, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, scooching over towards Rodrick a bit.

”Soooo,” Ben said, dragging the word out.

”Yesss,” you mimicked.

”I saw you talking to Heather Hills today, what was that about?”

”Oh that?” You scoffed, “I have to work with her on some stupid project. She was telling me I have to pull my own weight on it because she’s not risking a bad grade because ‘I don’t take shit seriously’ or whatever she said— but I don’t exactly see that Princess studying and working hard either so I don’t think she has any right talking to me like that. Glass stones, y’know.”

”Uh-huh,” Ben said, clearly ignoring your rant, “So you’ll be seeing and talking to her regularly?”

”I guess so, we’re working on it in class.”

”Any chance my name can come up in these talks?”

Oh right, that’s where this was going, cause every fucking male in this goddamn school had a hard on for the brat. 

“Slim to none,” you answered, “Besides, I promised Rodrick here,” you slapped his knee, making him jump at the touch to which you ignored, “That I’d wingman for him if the opportunity ever came up.”

”He doesn’t mind! Right Rodrick!” He leaned over you to look at his best friend. He didn’t respond, “Rodrick?” He followed Rodrick’s gaze right to your legs, “Hey! Are you staring at my girl!?”

You scoffed, pushing his head back, and moving away from him and towards Rodrick, “How are you already drunk? Knock it off with that ‘my girl’ crap.”

”He was staring at you! Why am I getting yelled at!?”

”I wasn’t staring!” Rodrick yelped, voice cracking a red blush covering his face.

You looked back and forth between the two boys before standing up, your mood souring, “I’m gonna go pee, both of you cool it with the testosterone or I’m leaving.” You grumbled, marching out of the basement and to the bathroom upstairs. The one in Bill’s room was disgusting.

“What’s up with you,” Ben asked, looking at Rodrick peculiarly, “Why the fuck are you so red?”

”God— it’s nothing,” he grunted, “It’s a sunburn.”

”Bullshit,” Chris called out, “You’re blushing!”

“Oh I see,” Bill said with a laugh, “He’s finally coming around to (Y/N). Don’t see her as one of the boys anymore, do ya?”

”Will all of you just shut up,” Rodrick snapped, “I don’t like her like that.”

”No one said anything about liking anybody.” 

“But now we’re all thinking you do,” Ben said, raising a brow before an idea popped in his head, shooting up from his seat and pointing an accusing finger at him, “Something happened between you two!” A wide grin stretched across his face.

Bill and Chris were sitting up now.

”I knew it!” Bill laughed, “You two follow each other around like dogs.”

”What happened?” Chris pressed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck— he knows he shouldn’t say anything—

“I saw her naked,” he blurted, his own mouth out of his control.

Well fuck—

Chris and Bill shot to their feet as well, with exclamations on all three of his friends lips.

“How!?”

”When!?”

”Did you have sex!?”

”She forgot to close her blinds a few nights ago.”

Why won’t he shut up.

He guessed it was only a matter of time he’d eventually explode with this information as it was getting harder and harder each day to put it behind him.

”Is she hot!?” Chris exclaimed.

All Rodrick could do was nod guiltily as he continued to divulge more and more information.

All of them cheered again, Ben and Chris practically tackling him as they clapped his back and ruffled his hair in praise.

”What was she doing? Getting changed?” 

“She came out of the shower and was dancing to whatever music she was listening to while looking for her pajamas.” Starting to grin slightly at the praise he was receiving.

Ben fell to his knees at that, “So you saw,” he swallowed, “Her,” he gestured to his chest area, “Jiggling?”

”Yeah,” he said breathlessly at the memory.

”Does she know?” Bill asked.

”We made direct eye contact.” 

”What’d she do?” Chris now asked.

”As soon as our eyes met we both kinda screamed and I ran out of my room. But we talked it over the next day and everything’s all good.”

”Everything was all good.”

All four guys snapped their sights towards the staircase where you stood with your arms crossed.

”Really Rodrick?” You scoffed, clearly hurt. “What the fuck?”

”(Y/N)!” He stood up now. “I— uh,” he struggled to find the words.

You looked to each of your ‘friends’. “You’re all fucking assholes. Especially you Rodrick, have fun walking home.” 

With that all four watched you climb the rest of the stairs before slamming the door shut behind you.

Rodrick groaned.

”Shit.”

————————————————————————

Part 3 Coming Soon…

Taglist: @maggiecc @corpsebridenightamare @simpingforthe80s @werewolf-witchboy @brunnetteiwik @athenalive @exploringalaxiesfarfaraway @momokosthings

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

--

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

--

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

--

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

--

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

--

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

--

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh.  while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

[tenswrld]

true romance

popstar!haechan x upcomingartist!reader, angst, fluff

summary: haechan's the world's boyfriend — and yours too, i guess.

word count: 4.1k

listen to: true romance - pinkpantheress

a/n: first, sorry that its been so long...im trying to be better about writing but inspiration comes and goes,,i hope you will indulge in whatever this is!!! everytime i hear this song my mind goes to haechan for some reason sooo yeah >_< i have lots of drafts its just a matter of when or if i finish them LOL love yall tho & enjoy

•°. *࿐

tell me, do you view me the same or do you call me a stranger?

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

haechan is popular — without a doubt one of the most popular artists of your time. everyone either wants to be him or be with him, to which you completely understand. everything about him screams someone who was born to be on a stage, stealing hearts and whatnot. with such a bright personality, it was almost impossible to not like him.

you've had the privilege of getting to watch haechan grow from singing songs he wrote in his bedroom on youtube to him performing them in sold out shows. you're a fan, of course, but somewhere along the way — with crazy luck — you've wiggled your way into his life and into his heart. the two of you were music artists wishing on every star for some kind of breakthrough to the industry (take a guess on who got it). naturally, it brought you together. you were there when haechan reached 5,000 subscribers, and you were still there when he was selling out shows to 50,000 people. you've stuck by his side for so long that you're sure that its where you fit best.

in the moment, however, you're not so sure anymore.

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

the small smile on your face slowly disappears at haechan's words and hurt quickly settles into your chest. "...why? what would be so bad about that?"

haechan seems unable to grasp how upset you are at his words. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "it's not like that, y/n. but a scandal at this time wouldn't be good."

"a scandal?" you scoff slightly. "since when have you ever cared about that?"

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair that's still slightly wet from his post-performance sweat. "i just don't want to take any risks right now. especially since my album is coming out soon. you understand, right?"

"i fly all the way out here to see you, and you don't want to be seen with me?" you say with a trembling lip and a weak voice. you're hurt and you're angry, but can't seem to keep your tears at bay.

"i didn't say that."

"you might as well have," you spit back at him.

"let's talk about this later, okay? trust me, it would be a lot worse for you than it would for me." haechan picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, making his way towards the backstage exit door.

frozen in place overwhelmed with emotion, you watch your boyfriend open the door. you think he's had a change of heart when he pauses at the door and turns back to you, but somehow he's managed to hurt you even more.

"maybe you should take these too," he says, placing the bouquet you made him back into your hold. the smell of roses and sunflowers taking over your senses as more tears well up in your eyes. you hope the flowers hide them from haechan's gaze. though, you're not so sure he'd notice anyway, as he'd already let the door close and left you behind.

•°. *࿐

'cause, baby, i don't care about the fame

people talk. as an upcoming music artist, you're aware that people talk. as the (hidden) girlfriend of a global superstar, you're more than aware that people love to talk about anything and everything that doesn't concern them.

you and haechan aren't on the same level of fame — not that it matters to you. it never mattered to you, really. even as haechan grew and grew and you remained with your significantly smaller (but still decent) following, fame was never your strongest desire.

yet, now, you're wondering that maybe if you were just a bit more famous, more popular, more well known, then you wouldn't feel as far away from haechan as you do right now. even as he sits beside you on the king bed of the luxury suite he booked for this stop of his tour, you feel further away from him then ever.

"i mean, what would people say about us, y/n? about you?"

"you keep saying that, hyuck, but you're not explaining it to me," you say, growing frustrated with him. "why is it just about me?"

he purses his lips before averting his gaze to the floor. "they'll say nasty stuff about you — that you're using me for fame, or money, or something like that."

you shake your head. "but you and i both know that's not true. we've been together for how many years now? their words shouldn't matter." you take hold of his hand and rub your thumb against his knuckles. "you could have nothing and i'd still be here."

"people don't know that," he scoffs. "they'll assume the worst about you."

maybe he's right — you're sure they will assume the worst about you regardless of your long, deep history with haechan. would he start to believe them? you think it, but you don’t ask — too afraid of the answer you might receive.

"what are you so afraid of?" you ask him softly, begging him with your mind for him to look at you.

but he doesn't, his eyes stayed trained on the ground and he can only weakly squeeze your hand that holds onto his own.

"i don't know."

•°. *࿐

tell me, why i don't play about you

every song is about you

haechan finally has a short break in between the legs of his tour and he chooses to spend every waking moment of it with you.

things between the two of you have felt rocky for a while. it makes haechan ashamed to say it, but he's been so focused on tour and his new album that he's pushed everything else to the side. he's a perfectionist and he feels like he's barely made it — he wants everything to work out perfectly and is committed to making sure that happens. he's not sure how long he's been brushing off anything non-career related, but he misses you — even if you're with him.

he flys the two of you out to a small, quaint place in kyoto where he finally gets to enjoy some peace and quiet in his life. he chooses to turn off his phone, not too keen with the idea of his manager berating him about all his responsibilities he'll have to tend to when he gets back. he's on vacation and he's here with you: the one person who's been with him through every up and down.

you're laying in his arms and haechan misses you to the point where it hurts — when was the last time he laid with you like this? the revelation urges him to pull you closer, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you lay on his chest. he sighs into your hair, breathing all of you in. it's silent, for the most part, until you ask a question that rattles haechan's being.

"why do you not sing about me?" you ask it so softly that haechan almost misses it.

"what? what are you talking about?" he's genuinely confused as to what you mean. who do you think he sings about?

"i know a handful of your old old songs are about me, but you don't perform those anymore," you murmur into his chest. "ah, don't mind me, i'm just talking."

you sound embarrassed and defeated and haechan wants to cry. did you really not know? how long has he been pushing you away?

"y/n, every single song i write is about you," haechan professes. "i couldn't write about anyone else if i tried."

his words shock you, even if they shouldn't. you tilt your head up to look up at him and he looks down at you with the softest gaze.

"not that i ever would, anyway," he continues, a sad smile painting his face.

"you mean it?" you whisper to him, wanting so badly to believe him.

when haechan's resolve breaks and his eyes glaze over, you know he means it. his hold on you tightens with one hand and the other comes up to caress your cheek, swiping a tear you didn't even know had fallen.

"of course," he croaks. "you're my muse, y/n. you."

this time, you're wiping his tears away as he cries and cries into your palms. you shift the two of you so that he lies in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into your torso, your hands running through his hair. he's apologizing over and over and doesn't say why, but you know why. you regret ever doubting haechan's love for you — even if he was to blame.

but, just as you're certain you love him more than anything, you know that haechan loves you back all the same.

"it's always been you, y/n."

•°. *࿐

and everybody’s shouting out your name

“you look too handsome to be pouting like that, you know,” you tease lightly, approaching haechan to adjust his tie fondly.

he can’t help but smile at you as you do so, his hands easily finding their place around your waist, tugging you close. “if you tell me to stay, i will.”

you sigh and place your hands upon his chest, allowing you to push yourself up to place a soft kiss on his lips. his lips trail after yours once you pull away and he pouts at you again, eyes begging for another kiss but you push him back ever so slightly.

“you can’t miss this, hyuck, you know that. this could be really big for you!” you beam, swiping a bit of your lip gloss off of his lips. “some important people might be there.”

“but you won’t be there,” he whines. “what’s the point?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “you’ll be fine. now go, your manager has been waiting.” haechan sighs and leans down to place one more kiss on your lips.

you pull away before he can get carried away. “go! and put a good word in for me with taeyong, yeah?”

haechan rolls his eyes but smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as he bids you farewell. “no promises.”

ੈ♡˳

it’s barely been over an hour and haechan wants to leave.

normally he’s able to tolerate these sorts of things — the bright lights, loud music, snobby people all trying to one up each other. he can get by and chat with anyone as if he’s known them for years. typically, events like these breeze by for haechan. why was he hating every second of it?

it’s lee taeyong’s end of year celebration party. of course, as his junior, haechan was invited. he’s grateful that he’s made friends with lots of other artists under his company, otherwise haechan would have been long gone within the first 45 minutes of arriving. but, haechan stays, mostly because he admires taeyong and does, in fact, bring up you and your songs — which, to his surprise, taeyong says he knows you and enjoys your music.

haechan isn’t given the chance to talk more, unfortunately, due to an excited kim jungwoo who locks an arm around haechan’s shoulder and drags him away.

“ow — hyung! i was in the middle of a conversation!” haechan grits to jungwoo, lightly shoving his arm off of him.

“my bad, it looked like you needed saving,” jungwoo chuckles. “come on, everyone’s been looking for you.”

jungwoo leads haechan to a small circle of people to which haechan knows as his small circle of friends: mark, his company's beloved canadian rapper; johnny suh, one of seoul's most popular djs; and of course there's kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, and jeong jaehyun who make up dojaejung, korea's heartthrob boy group.

"yo, where have you been?" mark greets him excitedly, lightly slapping him on the shoulder playfully.

"what do you mean 'where have i been', i saw you yesterday, mark," haechan grumbles.

"woah, someone needs a drink," johnny chuckles. doyoung is quick to hand haechan a glass of champagne.

haechan takes a large gulp, hopefully to ease whatever tension he feels in his shoulders. he's trying to enjoy the party, he really is, but all he wants to do is come home to you.

"everything okay?" doyoung asks him, concerned with the way haechan seems to be downing his drink.

the younger boy sighs. "yeah, i'm fine, sorry. just stressed out."

"oh, your album is coming out soon, right?" jungwoo remembers, nudging haechan with his elbow. "congratulations!"

the rest of the boys congratulate him and haechan can only half-heartedly reply despite being very grateful.

"i'm sure it'll be great," johnny reassures him.

"saw a lot of love songs on that track list," jungwoo teases. "got a special someone?"

haechan stills at his words and he's caught in an argument with himself. does he mention you? does he say no? is this how he wants people to find out you’re together? before he can even reply, though, jaehyun cuts in.

"speaking of, i heard that kim minjeong has had her eye on you for a while, haechan," jaehyun says. he raises his eyebrows at the younger boy and haechan gulps, the rest of his friends nudging him playfully as they coo at him.

"that's the model, right? and singer?" doyoung asks. "you should talk to her!"

haechan feels like he's going to be sick. maybe he's being dramatic — its not like they're shoving him into minjeong's face and asking him to profess his love. still, he feels like he's betraying you in some way and he realizes he has to go home.

"i can talk you up, probably," mark says. "we're normally at the studio at the same time."

“i heard that shin ryujin has been talking about you, too,” johnny pipes in. “honestly, who hasn’t been talking about you? i’m surprised you’ve done nothing about it.”

doyoung hums. “she seems like your type, donghyuck! i know some people over at —“

"no! no, don't — " haechan places his champagne glass onto a nearby table abruptly and sighs shakily. "just...don't. sorry, i-i don't feel well. i should go."

confused and concerned eyes watch haechan as he rushes towards the nearest exit. he doesn't bother saying goodbye to taeyong, but makes a mental note to send him an apologetic note tomorrow. haechan sees kim minjeong catch sight of him, and he's sure she's about to make an attempt to stop him to chat with the way she looks at him with a flirty gaze. haechan is quick to turn in the opposite direction and flees out of the nearest door.

haechan's manager comes out soon behind him, frenzied after trying to catch up to a frantic haechan. he doesn't get the chance to ask the latter if he's okay, too occupied with calling their driver upon haechan's request.

"home," he chokes out. he's out of breath and he feels dizzy — whether its from the champagne or from guilt, he's unsure.

"i want to go home."

•°. *࿐

i'm in the crowd, can you see my hand?

haechan has reached the encore of his final show of his tour, yet he still feels a pressure that he cannot explain.

its not from all of his seniors and friends that attended in support of him, he knows that. it's not from the different producers and music artists that flew to seoul for him, either. its a pressure that weighs on his chest that has made him feel unsatisfied with each stage, despite putting 150% effort in everything.

the crowd is going crazy for him after he delivers his final ment, and he takes a moment to soak in it all, in hopes it would give him some peace of mind.

then, his eyes finally spot you.

you, in the back row of some random section, sitting with your manager, with a banner with his name on it and a headband with bear ears perched on top of your head. he doesn't know if you can tell that he's staring right at you, but you start waving around the banner with excitement. haechan can't help but adore you even more than he already does.

time stops for him as he realizes that you're here. through thick and thin you've always been there — what has haechan ever done for you? he hasn't given you even a sliver of what you deserve, yet you've never left him. you stayed when he was a nobody, and even now when he's been terribly selfish, you let him be.

there are thousands of other hands waving at him, but haechan can only see yours.

"actually," haechan starts, quickly silencing the crowd. "there's one more thing i wanted to say."

from your seat, you feel your heartbeat quicken. haechan is still standing and looking into your direction and you know he sees you.

"there's someone very special to me that's here tonight."

your heart stops as you realize what he's doing and you can't help but glance at your manager in a panic. fans around you are murmuring in confusion since haechan had already given a shoutout to his guests.

"they've been by my side since i was writing silly love songs in my childhood bedroom," haechan says, a fond smile taking over his features. "i wrote those love songs about them then, and i still write every love song about them now."

the gasps and shocked noises at his confession fall upon deaf ears — to you, you and haechan are the only two people in the world.

"some of you may know her — she's an amazing music artist as well. far better than me, in my opinion, but maybe i'm a bit biased." haechan sees you laugh and can't help but chuckle too.

"my girlfriend, y/n, is here tonight, and i couldn't be more grateful. wave, y/n!" haechan calls out to you. surprisingly, the camera cuts to you as you wave shyly, hiding behind your haechan banner. even more surprising, the crowd cheers loudly for you.

"isn't she cute?" haechan asks. he's delighted when he sees and hears the rest of the stadium agree.

haechan finally feels that weight lift from off of his chest and he feels like he can breathe. he's happy — ecstatic, even — now that the world finally knows he's yours.

"y/n, you once asked me what i was afraid of, and i said i didn't know," haechan recalls gently. "but i know now." he purses his lips to prevent himself from choking up.

"you've always been so supportive of everything i've done. you've done so much for me and i'm not sure how i could ever repay you." haechan sucks in a sharp breath. "i'm afraid that i'll never truly deserve you."

the crowd coos and some fans in front of you turn around to look at you. you're a mess: tears are streaming down your face, and your hands are shaking. you hide pathetically behind your banner again as your manager wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for making you wait." haechan puts a hand over his heart, and you do the same. "i love you."

the camera cuts to you again and haechan glances at the monitor to get a better look at you as you mouth something back. haechan doesn't even attempt to conceal his smile or to hold back his tears. there's no use.

"i love you, too."

•°. *࿐

say what you want, this is true romance

“did you really have to mention that, hyuck?”

your boyfriend settles next to you on the couch, arm draping over your shoulder, as you scroll through his recent interview with vogue korea.

you pout at him and he's unable to stop the smile that takes over his face. he pinches your cheek and you quickly swat his hand away.

"what? what did i say?" he rests his chin on your shoulder to read the article for himself.

"i mean, does the public really have to know about me crying on our first date?" you complained. you continued scrolling and laughed as you read. "in what context would you ever have to tell vogue about our matching crayon shin-chan pajama pants?"

haechan laughs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "honestly, i don't remember half of what i said during this interview. or any of what they asked me." he tugs you a little closer to him so that you're leaning against him, laying the two of you down. "all i know is that i'm pretty sure i started talking about you so much that they just called it a day."

"you're that obsessed with me, huh?" you teased.

haechan scoffs, wrapping both of his arms around you tightly. "obviously."

he watches you open instagram and sees you check the likes on your new post. he gasps dramatically, loosening one arm around you to snatch his phone from his pocket. "you posted?! where was my post notification?" he whines cutely.

he's a little too quick to find your account and he then quadruple clicks the picture to give it a like. "babe, why are your comments off? i was about to get really out of pocket," haechan whines again.

"okay, first, don't do that, please. save some of your dignity," you scold him. "but its because people are mean," you admit softly.

haechan's eyebrows furrow together and his tone stiffens. "who? what did they say?"

you sigh. "no one specific, don't worry. some people are just not too keen about us. your predictions were right, i guess," you attempt to joke, but it only makes haechan upset.

"here, come here," haechan beckons you up with him as he sits up. you're still under one of his arms, which he locks around your neck as he tugs you into his side. you're caught off guard, but lean into him anyway, arms wrapped around his torso. haechan lifts his phone up and takes selfies of the two of you, cheeks pressed together as you both smile uncontrollably.

you're both giggling like two high schoolers fresh into a relationship and you've never felt more happy and in love in your life. haechan presses wet kisses against your cheek before you eventually push his face away. still, he steals one more kiss from you — this time on your lips — and you let him.

"okay, i'm posting all of these," haechan declares casually, leaning back against the couch.

your eyes widen and you reach for his phone in an attempt to stop him, but haechan has already dodged you and raised his hand up. "hyuck, don't."

"why not? i'm in love with you, people just have to deal with it," he shrugs. "anyone who has a problem with us can get blocked."

you fall onto haechan's chest and he gladly wraps you up in his arms again. "you're stupid, but i love you."

"good, because i just posted it."

you peer up at haechan's phone and you see that he was true to his word. all of the selfies you just took piled into one singular post to which haechan captioned 'my heart'. you watch as he scrolls through the comments and blocks anyone with anything bad to say.

"wow, you weren't kidding," you say, amused.

"'course not. these people need to learn true romance." he leans down to kiss you one more time, this time letting the kiss linger. he pulls away but rests his forehead against yours, staring at you with eyes full of love. "i love you, too, by the way."

ੈ♡˳

haechan is popular — without a doubt, he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. he's confident, charismatic, and he's bright. he's everyone's dream guy, it's no secret.

but, above all, he's yours, and you're his as well. he has devoted his heart and life to you and its not a secret to anyone anymore.

this time around, haechan wraps you up in his scarf to protect you from the cold before the two of you leave.

"i already have a scarf on, hyuck, just keep yours," you mumble from underneath the thick fabric.

haechan doesn't hear you (not just because he literally can't) because he's too focused on zipping up your jacket and tugging your beanie over your ears.

"okay," he says as he intertwines a hand in yours. he clutches the bouquet you made for him proudly in his other arm while he carries your bag and his own over his shoulder. "let's go home!"

its bittersweet as you realize how familiar yet different the situation is. you clutch haechan's hand tighter as he tugs you towards the backstage exit door, outside where the press and his fans are waiting.

he doesn't hide you anymore. no, instead haechan shows you off proudly and wholeheartedly as if it was what he was meant to do.

[sabertoothwalrus]

hi !! just curious because i was looking at your adventure time episode guide and i love hearing other peoples adventure time takes !! how come you don't like finn's characterisation in together again?

I've talked about it before here and here!

But also I'm gonna say more and share some art I did in 2021 for a rewrite comic that I never got around to doing

So again to reiterate: Adventure Time is usually VERY good at making it feel like time passes, even when you're not watching. It's something about what they don't show that tells you everything you need to know.

Together Again did not do this.

It really really felt like they were avoiding showing Finn as an adult, as if they wanted to leave his post-show life ambiguous. Which, now that Fionna and Cake has shown us literally that, it makes Together Again feel even more wrong?? Like. imagine you have to pick a moment from your life that represents You™ the most. Together Again said that Finn, after living his whole life and dying as an old man, feels most represented by how he was at 17. I do not buy this. I am 25, and I cannot fathom identifying by my 17 year old self. I was a completely different person then, I was still cooking. I can imagine most people feel the same. And ok, so maybe Finn DOES for some reason feel stuck at 17? Explain to me why!! What needed to happen to him that made him feel that way?

And before you just say "it's because Jake died," there's still too much that was left out. How old was Finn when Jake died? What was Finn like, at that point? What else had they accomplished? What was he doing at the time that was on the forefront of his mind? Where/with who did they spend most of their time? Where were they living after the treehouse got destroyed?

It was like,,, it was like the story Together Again actually wanted to tell was about Finn's grief, and how poorly he copes, and how too much of his identity is tied to Having Jake, and how he struggles to move on. But that's not the story we got. I honestly think-- as interesting as it was-- everything with New Death and Tiffany and Lich just did a disservice to the focus, which was Finn trying to get over Jake.

I think Together Again should have gone like this:

Finn and Jake had always planned that whoever died first would wait in the dead world for the other to die so the two of them could reincarnate. Jake dies first. Jake would be able to "watch over" Finn as he lives the rest of his life, so Jake wouldn't miss Finn as much as vice versa, since he'd feel like he's still there with him. Eventually, Finn dies.

Finn's appearance would change with his emotional state. I thought it'd be interesting to show different phases of his life through the stages of grief.

There'd be a room where they could watch Finn's memories. Finn would walk Jake through the events of his life. We SEE exactly how Finn dealt with grief, with heartbreak, with love, with friends, with community. All the good and all the bad.

By the end of it, Finn is quiet. "Jake... when we reincarnate, will we.. lose all of this?" "Well, do you remember anything from any of your other past lives?" "No.. But that's the point. I don't want to forget you." Finn, despite their promise, despite Jake waiting for him all this time, declines reincarnating. He doesn't want to move on, because that would mean forgetting everything. He wants to say with Jake!! He JUST got Jake back!!

“What if— in the future— what if they forget about us? What if they don’t know about all the stuff we did?” We see Ooo in its current state. It’s changed, but it’s clearly been affected by the two of them. Every person they’ve saved, every civilization they helped build, every hero they’ve inspired. They’ve left their touch everywhere. “They’ll know,” Jake says with certainty. “We’ll know.” We see the future, with Shermy and Beth. We see the Finn Sword, and BMO with all their old belongings. Everything stays, but it still changes. Will happen, happening, happened. These have always been the themes of the show. They reincarnate, together.

[httpscomexe]

Ensnared 2

Summary: You finally get your room, but a little jealousy check leaves you ending up in Logan's room instead.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Yandere!Logan Howlett x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Blood, violence, jealousy, injuries, Y/N faints around blood, a little comfort, sixth sense, foul language, separate POV, chapters 3 and further WILL include non-con aspects. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Let me know if I missed anything. Thank you.

Tags: @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 4099 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 3

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Logans POV

“Hey, watch it-” His voice broke off as soon as his eyes found her, and he immediately calmed down, his hands now gripping her shoulders more carefully as he held her steady.

“I’m so sorry.” She apologised, taking a step back as he reluctantly let go of her. “Where can I find Xavier?” His ears don’t listen to her voice, instead his eyes are watching the way her lips move as she speaks.

He lets go of her. “He’s probably still in his office.” Her eyes softened, and she seemed to study his face.

“Uhm, where’s his office?”

“Are you new here?” He asks her, and she sort of shrugs before telling him “kind of.” Then he turns around, and heads towards Xaviers office, expecting her to follow behind him. Completely forgetting about the beer he had stashed in the back of the fridge, which was the reason he wasn’t in his room in the first place. But then you showed up.

He reaches the door, and notices a change in her eyes as he reaches for the handle to Xavier's office, then she shot her hands out suddenly, gripping his forearm and keeping him from opening the door. He didn’t mind though, just her touch was sending waves of heat through his body. More words spilling past her lips that he couldn’t hear before she lets go and Xavier opens his office door.

He doesn’t remember the conversation after that. He just remembers staring at her as the light shone on her face from the office light, and he was hoping the image of the way her lips moved would be imprinted in his brain. He knew he had to have you.

“Finally decided to move in?”

“Move in?” He wonders, he’d be able to see you.

More of the conversation goes straight through his head.

“You have healing powers?”He asks, trying to see at least a little interest.

Then more conversation as she answered him. Any longer standing next to her and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands in his pockets. Then Xavier brings her into the room with him, cutting the conversation short.

Without even a good night, he just walks away, knowing if he had stared at you for one more second, he would’ve busted just by watching her lips move.

The next day wasn’t any better, he had stayed up all night just thinking about her, and when he got to see her again in the afternoon, he immediately felt better, Vincent trying to hang out with him as usual, but Vincent was nothing special like you were. He needed-

You.

Readers POV

You were ecstatic, it was Tuesday and you would finally have your own room, and Xavier tells you that Logan picked out some clothes as well that you might like. You couldn’t wait as you woke up in the morning, immediately searching for Logan, whom you’ve come surprisingly close to in the span of two days, and you normally found him in his room, just relaxing.

You don’t bother knocking, he’s told you to just come in, so you do. Immediately barging into his room and hopping onto the foot of his bed, his eyes watching you.

“So my room?” You ask.

“It’ll be done by 12.” Groaning, you lean back until you’re on your back, the stretch of your skin hurting the bruises on your ribs and stomach, making you wince. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You say quickly, groaning as you sit back up.”

“You’re lying, something hurts, what is it?” Your jaw tightens as you squeeze your teeth together, and just before you speak, his bedroom door opens. The same brown haired girl coming in as usual, every time you were in there. You assumed she was Logan's girlfriend, or something in that matter, but he talks so poorly of her.

“Vincent, I’ve asked you to knock.” You notice the change in his tone every time he talks to her. It’s soft when he speaks to you, but when he talks to her he sounds pissed every time.

“She doesn’t.” She shrugs, pointing at you before coming to sit on the bed, but Logan stretches his leg out just before she can sit and join.

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to leave. We’re having a private conversation that she wouldn’t want to share with you.” You squint your eyes, wanting to say he’s lying through his teeth, but it was true. You only trusted Logan with this information.

“Fine. Okay, Lo. Bye, and bye hun.” Vincent turns back around, making a disgusted face as she faces you, but Logan's face matches her disgust when she uses his newly acquired nickname.

“Doesn’t sound the same when she says it.” He tells you, turning back to you. “So what’s wrong?” He tries on the subject, watching your chest as you sigh heavily.

“You know the video I sent you?” You recall the video of the men attacking you.

“Yea, the assholes who tried to kick your ass.”

“Yes. The one dude that ran after me did eventually catch up, and…” You voice softens, and you slowly lift your sweater, revealing the purple and blue bruises that were painted across your stomach and ribs.

“Holy shit, he did that?” He sounded actually pissed as he stood up, suddenly laying you down before lifting your sweater further, only stopping when you hold the sweater at your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra. “Those assholes…” He mumbles, his left hand gently gliding over your bruises. Half of your body wants to punch him, but you know he’s just being friendly. You never took him as one to love physical touch, but he adored being touched or touching someone else.

“Yea, but it’s okay now.” You tell him, watching as he shakes his head before his hand finally lies flat on your lower stomach where there were no bruises.

“No it isn’t, this looks painful.”

You shrug. “Can’t do anything about it.” You whisper to yourself mostly, his eyes seemingly getting darker as his eyes move from your skin to the wall, a thought coming to his head.

“Yea, you’re right.” But he didn’t sound confident as he removed his hand from your stomach and helped you sit up.

“Just don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want Xavier to over react.”

“I won’t but what about your checkup on Friday?”

“I asked if I could keep my clothes on, because I don’t like revealing my body.”

He wanted to ask why. Why wouldn’t you want to reveal your body? It was amazing, it was everything he’s ever wanted.

“Is that true? Or just an excuse?” You don’t say anything for a moment, not wanting to make the moment awkward but ultimately failing at best. “Darling.” He says finally, leaning forward until his face is just a few inches from yours. “You are absolutely gorgeous, don’t ever think otherwise.” You smile a little, basking in the compliment, ignoring the red sirens in your head.

“Well, thank you.” You awkwardly start to pick at your nails. “I should probably get going, I’m sure you're busy, and Xavier needed me for something.” You lie, some sort of sixth sense beginning to poke at your body. “But text me when the room is done please.” You stand, getting off his bed and he watches you move.

“Of course, I’ll see you later.”

Throughout the next few hours, you couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder. Your body was telling you something was off and you weren’t sure what it was. You were supposed to be safe and feel safe in the mansion, but for some reason, your brain suddenly wouldn’t settle.

“Hey.” A voice comes from behind you and a hand is placed on your shoulder.

“Oh, hey.” You mumble, Scotts hand still on your shoulder as he walks next to you.

“So, Logan was telling me he wanted to hand you the key to your room, but I saw you walking so here.” He holds the key out on his index finger, it dangles from a little chain.

“Why would it matter who hands it to me?” You take the key as you ask the question.

“I guess he wanted to see your reaction or something,” He takes his hand off. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, thank you, Scott. I’ll head upstairs right now.”

“Alright cool, if you need anything let me or Logan know, and by the way we also put clothes in the drawer. Xavier asked us to.” He lets you know before nodding to his friend group. “But nice seeing you, hope you like the room.” He finishes, then jogs off to his friends as you split off into another hallway, making your way up the stairs and to your room.

The second you walk in, you freeze, taking a moment before you could actually close the door. The room was nice of course. You loved it. But they had put a LOT more effort into the room than Xavier had led on. It wasn’t plain and dark wooded like all of the other rooms. Your room was lighter coloured, and the bedsheets and furniture were a girly design. Some are adorned with flower patterns or glittered with sparkles. And you’re surprised.

But that wasn’t what your eyes immediately landed on. No.

It was the bouquet on your bedsheets.

Your favourite flowers, all nicely put into a bow tie, were just sitting there, a little tag on it with Logan's name scribbled onto it. You didn’t take him for one with good handwriting.

You lift the flowers, smelling them. They were beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, but it all felt so wrong, inappropriate even. But you walk over to a little desk with your flowers, noticing an empty vase sitting on the table, already filled with water for you, so you cut the tie on the flowers and gently arrange them in the vase before texting Logan.

You put your phone away, your palms placed on the desk as you stare into the mirror attached to the wall. He had wanted to show you the room at 12, but it was past then. It was already 5 in the afternoon, did he not expect Scott to just hand you the keys? Whatever.

You think, examining the room a little further and opening the drawers to see what clothes he’d purchased for you.

In the closet there were hoodies hanging, and a few pairs of shoes including heels were set on low shelves. In the drawers were the pants, some skirts, short shorts, and a few pairs of sweats. In the other drawer were some bras and panties, all neatly folded. They weren’t exactly your style though. You were a more comfortable person when it came to bras and panties, and what he had purchased were all lace, apart from a few sports bras for if you went out exercising.

You didn’t mind it though. It was sweet of him to put as much time in as he did for you, but you still felt like he overdid it, like he had done more than he was expected to do.

Just then, as you begin to become lost in your thoughts, there’s a knock at your door, and not a second passes before it opens, you had forgotten to lock it, and Vincent's face proves it.

“Hey-”

“Don’t fucking play with me.” She cuts you off, closing the door behind her before storming up to you. “I know what you’re doing, and it better-” She pauses, her eyes landing on the vase of flowers, Logan's name still hanging from one of the stems. “He got you these?”

You nod, taking a step back from her.

“He doesn’t even buy me, his literal fucking lover any flowers, but then he gets you flowers?”

“Wait, you two are-?”

“Yes you fucking idiot.” She raises her voice a little as she speaks to you. “For years now it’s just been me and him, but ever since you’ve shown up, he’s ALWAYS around you and he never stops talking about you, so you need to back the fuck off.” Her finger points at you as she approaches you until your back is against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but I’m not even going at him, I only ever go see him when he asks or if it’s important, otherwise I never actually see him-”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Your voice finally starts to raise a little.

“Then why the fuck were you in his room on his bed earlier?”

“Because I had a question.”

“He said it was personal.” You pause, your lips slightly parted. “What could that possibly mean?” She scoffs. “I mean are you two fucking?”

“Absolutely not, sorry, I’m not interested in him.”

“Then what was so private that-”

“There was nothing private about it.” It was your turn to interrupt her, and slowly begin to stalk towards her, having enough of her attitude. “I’m sorry that you’re so self conscious about your boyfriend that you have to yell at me and confront me instead of trusting him, but this is not my problem. And for the record, the conversation wasn’t private, so you might want to check in with Logan to make sure he actually loves you, it seems to me he wanted you gone.”

Her face hardens, but she says nothing.

Until her fist collides with your face, pain shooting through your body from the already horribly placed bruise on your cheek.

So you hit back, and it’s back and forth throwing punches, you of course having the advantage from years of hiding and self defence. You punch at her until she’s on the floor before climbing down on top of her, hitting more punches to her face until there’s a shooting pain in the side of your thigh, making you scream in pain and fall off of her as she gets on top of you, leaving her knife in your thigh as it was her turn to punch your face, her knuckles mainly colliding with the already bruised part of your skin. Then she’s lifted off of you, thrown against the wall and you see her fall back to the floor out of the corner of your eye.

Groaning, you sit up. The knife is still sticking out of the side of your thigh making it painful to sit. You look up, and Logan is speaking to Vincent, but you couldn’t hear it. Then you shake your head a little, numbing the ringing sound of pain before gripping your bed frame and hoisting yourself up on the leg that wasn’t injured.

“So you fucking stab her?”

“She attacked me first!”

“I highly fucking doubt that.” He turns around, noticing you were not standing with beads of blood dripping down your thigh, enough to make it down to soak into the shoes you were wearing. “Are you okay? Hey, stay still.” He tells you, rushing over to help you stand.

“Don’t fucking help her, look at me!” Vincent demands, pointing at her face, her nose obviously broken as trails of blood seep past her lips.

“Yea and you fucking stabbed her!” He grits his teeth, trying not to yell since it was already most kids' time to fall asleep.

“She fucking started it.”

“No I didn’t…” You mumble, looking up at her with hate, wishing Logan wasn’t there so you could punch at her again, but you knew he would easily peel you off of her.

"I don’t care who started it, we need to get both of you to the nurse.” He finishes the argument before easily lifting you, making sure to be careful with your wound.

“Oh so you’re not gonna carry me?”

“Shut the fuck up and get the door.”

At the nurse, she doesn’t ask for an explanation. She simply takes care of Vincent, who was lucky she only had her nose dislocated, before asking Vincent to leave as she came over to you, Logan sitting behind you as you stood on your good leg.

“So I see Vincent doesn’t like you either.”

“Either?” You ask the nurse as she inspects the wound on your thigh.

“She tends to believe that every girl is after this boyfriend of hers, but no one knows who her boyfriend is.” You squint your eyes and look back at Logan.

“She said you were her boyfriend.”

“I’m not.” He growls. “She’s a fucking psycho.”

“She sure is.” The nurse mumbles, knowing she shouldn’t be expressing her opinion. “Wish you had broken her nose, then I wouldn’t have to see her.” She admits, grabbing a clean cloth from a counter.

You groan, dreading the moment the knife would have to be pulled from your body.

“So this is going to hurt obviously.” She tells you, bending down next to you and gripping the knife handle.

“Wait.” You say quickly, just before she’s about to. “Uh… I don’t-” You’re suddenly nervous. You knew it would need to be removed, but you really didn’t want it to be. You always got oozy around blood and sharp objects, such as knives and needles.

“Okay.” She nods towards Logan, who reaches forward and wraps his arms around you, holding your arms down to your sides and keeping you still.

“Logan-!” You scream, biting your teeth down in pain as the nurse pulls the knife out of your thigh, and it takes a moment for some reason, making her have to pull with more effort before it finally comes loose, a pained whimper leaving your lips as it comes out, blood pooling down your leg and onto the floor a little before she quickly covers the wound with the towel, Logans arms still wrapped around you.

“See the wasn’t so bad-” She looks at you, expecting to see your eyes fall on her, but they were closed, and your head was limp.

Yea, you’d passed out. You told her to wait for a reason, but she didn’t give you time to explain why. You knew you were going to pass out, and it was a good thing Logan was holding you, or you would’ve already been face planted on the tile floor.

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “She’s fainted.”

Logan's eyes squint in confusion as the nurse turns away and his finger gently is placed under your jaw as he continues to hold you, the nurse wrapping the cloth around your wound as she goes to collect what she needs for stitches.

He looks down at you, moving your head so it rests under his chin as he presses a soft kiss to your head. One you would punch him for if you were awake.

“I'll probably have to medicate her. I don’t know if it was the knife or blood that bothered her.” the nurse tells him, kneeling next to you with a kit to stitch the wound.

“It was probably the blood.”

“Which wouldn’t be too good. She’ll have to replace the bandage in the morning and a few more times, meaning there will be more blood until it heals.”

“I can help her.”

“What exactly happened with Vincent and her?” Logan looks down at you, making sure you were still faint before answering her.

“Vincent just walked into her room, yelling at her. Then she punched her.”

“Oh, Vincent is- well she’s something.” The nurse says, just as your eyes twitch slightly, but you keep them shut, your head spinning as you feel the needle the nurse was using go into your skin.

“Yea, Vincent is annoying, she can be a piece of shit. But Y/N only has a certain amount of patience. I just can’t believe Vincent punched her.” How did he know that?

“Yea, I’ll be sure to suspend Vincent, I know she has a home outside of the mansion.”

“And what about her?” He looks down at you, eyes still closed.

“Well, I know she didn’t start it, but she did still fight back instead of trying to get away. So I’ll have to send out a suspension for her too. Vincent will have her three days, then when she gets back, it will be Y/N's turn, we don’t want them outside both at the same time.”

There’s a clipping sound as the nurse cuts the wire she was stitching you with, and she stands, some blood on her gloves as she looks at you, your eyes finally opening.

“All done darling.” She smiles sweetly, nodding towards Logan so he lets you go.

“Thank- thank you.” How did he know Vincent had punched you first? He wasn’t there and no one actually described what had happened yet. You were with Vincent from when she arrived to when she left, neither of you had told Logan who did what first, only why.

“Of course, now was it the blood or knife that made you… faint.”

“The blood.” You mumble, hating even the word.

“Okay, well are you alright with Logan changing the wrap twice a day? So you don’t have to walk all the way down here?” You nod, and feel Logan take a deep breath, your back still against his chest but you feel too exhausted to move.

“Alright. Well, he’ll help you to bed of course, let me know if you need anything, and let me know if it starts to bleed profusely. As a matter of fact maybe you should sleep in the same room together.” She throws the idea out there as she cleans her area. “It would be smart in case you do wake up in blood, you’ll wind up and faint then bleed out.”

You turn to look at Logan, who only shrugs. It was up to you.

“Yea… I guess that would be a good idea.” You sigh a little, not exactly excited to have to sleep near Logan for the sake of your life.

“Alright then, well you two have a good night then.” Logan shifts behind you, then lifts you again as the nurse shoves a bottle into his pocket. “Only two a day, painkillers, she doesn’t have to take them, but she should only need them for the next two weeks.”

“Thank you, Ronda. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He places you on his bed, making sure you’re comfortable sitting before going to his drawer and taking out a shirt.

“Go ahead and take those off, they’re covered in blood.” He tells you, and you hesitate before looking down, your shorts ruined from blood, then you shift a little to make space and remove them, it’s painful. “Here, shirt too.” You look down again, yes, of course the shirt was ruined.

You sigh a little, pulling your shirt off over your head before quickly taking the shirt from him and replacing your last shirt. “I’m sorry for what happened-”

“How did you know?”

He freezes, and stares down at you.

“Know what?”

“That she was in my room.”

“I didn’t know. I was going in there to see how you liked your room but walked in on her kicking your ass.”

“For your information, I was kicking her ass.”

“This says otherwise.” He points to your thigh, wrapped in bandages, and you chuckle a little.

“Yea, if she hadn’t stabbed me though, I would’ve won.”

“I’m sure you would’ve.” He tells you, moving around the bed after switching off the lights to sit next to you, and he lifts his shirt off over his head, giving you a moment to look down at his toned abs before looking away, his shirt barely covering his eyes for a second.

“Wake me up if you need me.” He tells you, opening the pill bottle and handing you two pills.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need water?” You shake your head, taking the pills dry before he turns off his bedside lamp. “Okay, then good night.”

“Good night.” You echo, lying down next to him after turning out the lamp on your side as well.

And as your eyes close, the pain in your thigh subsiding, he falls asleep way before you, the bed shifting as he moves his weight closer to you. Except he doesn’t touch you like you expected him too, your body stiffening at the thought.

Behind you, his hand pauses as he sees you stiffen, you could feel his hand had gotten closer, the only reason he hadn’t touched you was because of the fear he could smell off of you. Fear he knew he would have to demolish.

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: きのう何食べた? / Kinou Nani Tabeta? / What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Kinou Nani Tabeta? (which I'm going to abbreviate here to NaniTabe) is a live-action adaptation of a manga with the same name, which tells the story of two middle-aged Japanese gay men as they navigate their relationship, their families, and their professional lives, all while having some good meals.

Do you want something nice? Do you want a show that's just ... nice? Not saccharine, not cloying, not reductive, but just cozy and kind? This! This is what you want. Every episode deals with some events in their lives, and then the action will pause once or twice while someone demonstrates how to make a meal. There's no real overarching plot. You just get to peek in on them every so often and see how they're doing.

...Shit, I'm just going to steal the GagaOOLala second-season synopsis, it's perfect:

Shiro Kakei and his partner, Kenji Yabuki, live a life full of some hardship but mostly happiness together, with Shiro's speciality cooking affordable and delicious dishes. As they turn 50, they begin to experience different changes, but Shiro and Kenji are still gentle with each other as they move on to a new stage in their lives.

So here I am, a middle-aged gay who cooks affordable and (mostly) delicious dishes and treats my partner gently, serving you a five-course meal of reasons that you should watch this show -- especially if you too are a middle-aged gay, in which case I'd say this goes straight from "should watch" to "unmissable."

1. Help, my face hurts from smiling too much

Prepare to get your heart warmed whether you like it or not.

Kakei Shiro, the main character, is a closeted gay attorney in his forties whose main likes are cooking and saving money. He lives with his slightly younger boyfriend, Yabuki Kenji, who is a very openly gay hairstylist. They're an incredibly unlikely couple who somehow manage to make a relationship work, kind of to their mutual surprise.

I called bullshit on the show early on: This relationship is cute, I said, but this is not the behavior of guys who have been together a decade. But as the show unfolded, it became clear that I was so wrong -- their behavior is perfect, because these middle-aged boys actually haven't been together nearly that long. In fact, once you finally get the story of how their relationship started, yeah, it explains a lot of their insecurities and awkwardnesses about one another. Combine that with how Shiro's a neurotic mess who absolutely does not want anyone to know that he's gay, while Kenji lives on eggshells for fear of rejection, and it all starts to make sense.

It helps that the two leads have incredible chemistry. Not in a horny way, mind you (the show is incredibly, and intentionally, nonsexual, but more on that later), but where they genuinely make one another smile and laugh. Nishijima Hidetoshi plays Shiro as an anxious mess who slowly learns to become at least a little more comfortable in his own queer skin. I have a t-shirt that says Oh, Honey and I want to put it on every time he does something.

Meanwhile, it would have been so easy to make Kenji a caricature, but Uchino Seiyou skips right past the stereotype and plays the behavior that the stereotype comes from. He minces his way along as Kenji so perfectly, I was surprised to find out he's married to a lady in real life. He's got to be doing an impression of someone he actually knows, because his faggotry is just too accurate.

Their relationship is far from perfect. They're capable of annoying the tar out of one another, sometimes on purpose. They keep secrets and avoid talking about feelings. They get jealous over completely irrational things. They want things the other person isn't comfortable giving. They get into petty little arguments over petty little shit.

And because of all that, it feels real.

Also, if you're one of those Jane Austen bitches who swoons every time lovers scandalously brush knuckles, well, here you go.

2. Surprisingly educational about the state of gay life in modern Japan!

This is not incidental: Like the manga, the show uses this cute food-based story to present a fairly realistic snapshot of what it's like to be a middle-aged gay couple in Japan right now.

Like the manga it's based on, the show goes out of its way to be incredibly nonsexual, to the point where Kenji and Shiro barely touch, much less kiss or even hint at getting naked together. It is very consciously and deliberately attempting to counteract the stereotype of the hypersexualized, salacious homosexual by presenting two gay men who are delightfully mundane.

It is not, however, homonormalization. There's no attempt here to make an argument that gay people are just like straight people, only with incidentally matching genitals. Every time someone falls prey to the pressure to conform to cishet gender norms, it ends badly for them. While the first-episode conflict establishes that Kenji tops, he's also the fruity hairstylist who does the housekeeping. Shiro's the straight-passing suit-and-tie guy, yet he's the one who cooks and goes grocery-shopping. They have a division of labor based on personality traits, not gender roles. In fact, their relationship as presented challenges a lot of those norms by decoupling gendered expectations from the necessities of everyday living.

(This isn't even just me getting my queer studies goo all over everything! Allow me to be a good academic and send you to two people who've done even more thinking about this than I have: the unfortunately paywalled "Queer Cooking And Dining: Expanding Queerness In Fumi Yoshinaga's What Did You Eat Yesterday?" by Katsuhiko Suganuma, and the more freely available "Queering the Palate: The Erotics and Politics of Food in Japanese Gourmet Manga" by Keiko Miyajima.)

Every so often, one of the episodes' conflicts will have to do with how gay people in Japan do not have equal rights and protections under the law. This doesn't just mean they can't get married -- not having a spouse and children actually messes with a lot of legal stuff, including inheritance and government assistance. Sometimes the show will even take a beat to have one of the characters explain to another what a certain statute says. Changing laws about same-sex partnerships even get factored into the story!

And sure, I don't know these things, but I bet a lot of straight people in Japan don't know these things either. Well, if you watch the show, now you do!

It's important that no one is ever outright shitty to Shiro or Kenji. No one calls them slurs or hate-crimes them or refuses to serve them at a business or anything like that. In fact, the majority of people they encounter are perfectly chill and even outright supportive. The most serious challenges they face are bigger than individual people being dicks. They're about systemic barriers to equality.

That said, there are still plenty of instances of individual people being dicks -- just not maliciously. In fact, most of the homophobic sentiments in the show come from the mouths of people who are otherwise supportive of Shiro and/or Kenji! These nice people seem like they're way okay with the gay ... and then they let slip that, no, they're actually not as okay with it as they think they are.

And I love that the show includes that, because I know that feeling way too well. When these things happen, our boys don't throw a righteous fit or cut the offender off completely. They just ... absorb the blow, sigh quietly, and keep going with the belief that the person in question means well. It just sucks, you know? It sucks to have to know now that your straight lady friend who thinks it's great that you're gay would be uncomfortable if her daughter were a lesbian. You're not going to stop being friends with her, and you're not even going to hold it against her, but it lives in your mind now, and you're going to add it to the I Am A Disappointment To My Parents rotation of intrusive thoughts.

Speaking of parents, Shiro's incredibly fraught relationship with his aging parents is hands-down one of the best parts of the show. They love him, he loves them, but they don't always know how to love one another. As their childless only child, Shiro finds himself having to support them in spite of a lot of hurt they've caused him because of his sexuality. He would in many ways be justified in cutting them off -- after all, many other gay people in the show no longer speak to one or both of their parents! Shiro wants to keep them in his life, though. He'll just have to learn how, for his sake and for Kenji's, to lovingly set boundaries.

This, to me, is the most important lesson a show about boring gays can teach a straight audience: There's always a background level of suck. You can be as chaste and normie and regular as you want, but you'll never be normal, because there's literally nothing you can do to erase the background level of suck.

It's easy to reduce someone else's oppression to Big Bad Events, and then to assume that the absence of these Big Bad Events means that oppression has ceased. That's like thinking there's nothing left that needs to be done about racism because the US had a Black president and you've never personally seen a cross burned on somebody's lawn. Once other people's oppression stops being Big Bad Events, it becomes Everyday Stuff You Can Ignore. And that's worse.

NaniTabe pushes back against this in two directions. The first is to show gays who are not miserable, but are instead living happy, fulfilling, and exceedingly regular lives on their own terms. The second is to give reminders that what gay-related misery they do experience largely comes not from their being gay, but from society's giving them shit for being gay. This misery doesn't destroy the happiness, but neither does the happiness make the misery go away.

By the way, this is true of any non-normative identity! The gays do not have a monopoly here. There's always going to be a level of suck when you don't inhabit an area of privilege, and it's very easy to be unaware of someone else's background level of suck when you yourself do have that privileged status! One of the best ways to become aware is to listen to stories about people unlike yourself! Hooray for empathy and learning!

3. tfw your bffs are straight-up freaks

If you're queer, and especially if you're queer and the vast majority of the people around you aren't, you know all too well that sometimes you wind up being friends with people you'd never associate with otherwise, except that you're queer and they're queer, and buddy, if you thought the queer dating pool was shallow, the queer friendship pool can sometimes be even worse.

That's how you get Kohinata and Wataru.

When I said earlier everything about how nonsexual and normie the show is, I was intentionally glossing over whatever the hell is going on with Kohinata and Wataru, the bizarre boyfriends who become Shiro and Kenji's gay besties. You know that couple where you think, I cannot imagine how this relationship works because if you were my partner I would want you stab you every minute of our lives, but it clearly does, so I'm happy for you both? Yeah, that's these two.

The elder of the pair, Kohinata, is a butch, severe man -- except when it comes to his boyfriend, the much younger and worse-behaved Wataru. Then he's reduced to a complete simp, catering to Wataru's every whim. Wataru knows that throwing a tantrum and being bratty is the way to get anything he wants from Kohinata, so he's just a little shit recreationally. He loves saying bitchy things and pointing out people's flaws, while Kohinata chides him ineffectually.

And I love how much this is totally a sex thing for them, except that when you put it in the context of an otherwise extremely PG-rated show, the kink of it flies completely under the hetero radar. Ha ha, look how generally funny these two weirdos are! While Shiro and Kenji are over here doing the thing where somebody calls their partner "master" in front of you, and you're like, I wish you wouldn't.

Their presence is great for the acknowledgment that gay people can be maladjusted freaks in a whole spectrum of ways! They also make the point that a great deal of your ability to openly be a maladjusted freak is related to your job and your level of wealth. Wataru works from home and Kohinata works with celebrities, both of which bring in high incomes and allow for way more deviance from social norms. They're in positions of privilege that allow them to be themselves, but the price of being themselves is that they're always going to stick out in a society that values harmony in sameness.

By contrast, Shiro's good-but-not-great-paying suit-and-tie job means he has to behave. Because of this, he has plenty of angst about being Not Gay Enough, through which the show reinforces time and again that not all gay existence is about barfing rainbows. You're still a valid homosexual even when you're a dull one.

So just remember: When you feel like you're not queer enough, remember that there are always worse queers out there in the world. Oh, they're not worse at being queer. They're just worse in general.

4. Itadakimasu!

This show, like the Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty and Otoko Meshi, is a food-centered show that is very dangerous to watch if you're hungry, so be prepared! Snack first!

It's also got actually followable recipes! Unlike those other food-centric shows I've done recs for, this show actually gives pretty precise measurements, lists all the ingredients, and walks you through basically the whole process. Aside from a few "add the incredibly Japanese thing I bought premade at the store" steps, Shiro's cooking methods are replicable at home.

...It is here that I should probably put up a warning for the occasional bout of very Japanese-typical and gay-man-typical fatphobia, which can be a heck of a combination. I don't think it's a dealbreaker, but you should be aware of it going in. However, I will say that the show almost always comes down on the side of positive moderation: Sometimes you need to eat like you're an aging homosexual watching your cholesterol, and sometimes it's a special occasion so you should enjoy yourself without guilt. It also never once conflates "eating healthy" with eating disappointing meals. If anything, it's mostly just being honest about what happens to your body's relationship to fried food when you hit your forties.

The other nice thing is that Shiro's not some trained chef. He makes good food, but he's a dedicated amateur at best. There's not a single super-fancy technique in anything he does. Much of the time, he's just winging it, combining techniques he knows with what he's already got in the fridge. Sometimes he uses recipes he found on the internet. Occasionally he cooks alongside other, more experienced people and learns techniques from them. Once in a blue moon he just tries a thing to see how it works. (Of course, he does have the unfair advantage of being fictional to cover for how none of his meals ever turn out bad, which, you know, must be nice.)

Sometimes you even get to see other people cook when Shiro's nowhere around! Some of them follow instructions to the letter, while others just sort of wing it with whatever's on hand. And that's okay! For a show so much about cooking, it is very unpretentious about food. The manga drives home even more strongly the point that you don't need fancy meals and a million perfect side dishes to be content. It's great if you're perfectly happy microwaving a pork bun! What matters is that it works for you and your family.

...Now can we please convince subbers everywhere to translate "Itadakimasu!" as "Itadakimasu!"? Please? I think my favorite bad choice is "Bon appetit!", which, okay, good job, you took an opportunity to teach English-speakers a non-English phrase that has no good English translation, and instead you chose to bank on their extant familiarity with a different non-English phrase that has no good English translation. Just keep it what it is. It's just something you say before you eat. It's obvious from context clues. I promise.

5. Makes you, an aging queer, feel real weird about some stuff!

Over the course of the show, Kenji and Shiro go from their early/mid 40s to pushing/over 50. Their parents age, have health scares, and even sometimes die. They deal with losing eyesight and hair alike. They get promoted. They make household budgets and purchases. They worry about saving enough for the future. They work late. They go on vacation sometimes. They wear the same clothes they wore a couple episodes ago.

However, they do all this while also wrestling with their unequal status as gay men in Japan. All their discussions about retirement are colored both by Kenji's tendency to impulse-buy ice cream and by the fact that they can't get married. The choices Shiro makes about his job rest both on his desire for a good work-life balace and a fear that his profession would react badly to his coming out. They have to make all the normal decisions expected of men their age, and then they have to make all the extra decisions to compensate for how "normal" doesn't account for gay.

To pick one issue running throughout the story: Shiro is an only child who is himself childless. This comes up fairly often, in fact, as various circumstances make him aware time and again that he's not making his parents into grandparents, and he won't someday have someone to take care of him like he does for them.

The first time the show brought this up, I thought it would be a one-and-done thing, where the conclusion of the episode got to be that Shiro learns to be happy without being a parent, the end. Nope! It isn't a constant stressor, but it never goes entirely away. Shiro is happy with his life, but he's also reminded that he's failing to live up to social standards. He doesn't want to be a dad. Or does he? No, he actually doesn't. But he also doesn't want not to be a dad, if that makes sense. He doesn't want to disappoint everyone by not having a wife and children, but at the same time, that disappointment isn't enough to force him back into the closet. But it's always going to be seen as a failure on his part.

As a middle-aged queer with no kids, yeah, I feel that hard. I don't want kids! But I also don't want to not have kids. I know I'm always going to be a little bit of a misfit in my family compared to my siblings, who are all parents now. Besides, I think about all the things I do for my parents, and all the things they did for theirs, and yeah, it kind of scares me to know I won't have that when I get older. And we're just basic-ass white people! Japan takes filial responsibility to a whole 'nother level!

So I really, really like that this show doesn't resolve that tension. Shiro has chosen what's right for him. It just also sucks sometimes. The honesty of that narrative is refreshing. Sometimes your best choice still kinda sucks. Sometimes the only way to get closure is to say, you failed me and I failed you, so we're even.

It's a frequent thing for the show to present the realities of people's lives and choices, and to say, maybe this isn't everyone's perfect solution, but it's the right decision given what the circumstances will allow, and you are still allowed to be happy despite the imperfections. It's not that you need to settle for less than perfection because you're gay -- everybody settles! Everybody makes choices and then has to live with the consequences of those choices. You'll never know if things could have been better if you'd done something different, but that doesn't stop what you have right now from being able to be pretty damn good.

I'm not going to say you must be a middle-aged queer to watch this show, because did you read the whole part earlier where I talked about how you should consume stories from experiences that are not your own? Right? Right.

I will, however, say that if you are a middle-aged queer, a lot of it's likely going to hit real close to home, and often in uncomfortable ways. I've seen a couple people say they had to take breathers after some episodes. I know I've been left chewing over a few things in the days and weeks since watching. There are definitely parts where you're laughing because you know exactly what that feels like, and if you don't laugh, you'll do something else.

But you know what? I like that. It can be nice to see people go through situations similar to yours and emerge realistically happy. It's nice to be able to laugh about things, or to know that you will laugh about them someday. The world is fundamentally hostile, but there are people who love us and watermelons are on sale this week, so instead of despair, let's have lunch together.

bonus: porn!!

I want to make it clear that the mangaka isn't some erotophobic dishrag who fetishizes gay men so long as they don't have any of that icky nasty smex. Oh no. The proof that NaniTabe's sexlessness is intentional is how Yoshinaga Fumi made six fairly explicit pornographic side stories that fill in some of the sexy gaps in the larger narrative. You can read all six volumes scanlated right here! ...though if you want to avoid spoilers, I'm going to recommend you wait to dig in until after you watch the show and/or read the actual manga to the appropriate points.

Enjoy the confirmation that Shiro is a freaky size queen (at least in theory, as is the case with maybe most freaky size queens).

Are you hungry for this show yet?

Tragically, this one's a little hard to watch. If you're in Japan (or you have a VPN that can fake it), you can see the first season on Netflix. Otherwise, the preposterously named GagaOOLala is probably your best bet. The watch order goes like this:

Season 1

the New Year's Special

the Movie

Season 2

While the two movies and the second season require a subscription, the first season is available for free. So if you want to give it a try, you've got a whole twelve episodes to see if you like it!

Maybe it'll get a third season someday? We can hope! After all, there's still much more manga left to adapt! All I know is that I'm very sad that I've run out of new installments of it to watch, and I look forward to going back and starting again from the beginning soon.

...Boy, it's funny to see behind-the-scenes shots and think, wow, they're so much snugglier in real life! That's how not-snuggly the show itself is! You think I'm joking but I'm not!

[skipper1331]

Public? // Felicitas Rauch

a/n: based off this request. Hope you like it:)

The tension was thick at home.

Felicitas loved you.

You loved Felicitas.

But that didn‘t change the fact that there was this strange atmosphere ever since the two of you had one of your biggest fight ever.

-

At the age of 15, Feli and you met.

At the age of 16, she asked you out on a date.

After several dates, you asked you to be her girlfriend - it took you some weeks to build up the courage to do so.

At the age of 23, Feli asked you to marry her.

At the age of 24, the two of you were happily married.

Both of you seemed to be happy - you were, but something in Felis mindset shifted which had led to your argument.

She hated that she couldn‘t wear her ring.

She hated that nobody knew she was married.

For the world, you didn’t exist - that‘s how many people knew about you.

You‘re her wife.

She wanted to show everybody how much in love she was with you.

She wanted to post pictures with you,

she wanted to hold your hand in public,

she wanted to be seen with you.

You‘re everything to her and nobody knew about it.

-

It started as a simple conversation.

"Liebe, can we talk about something?" the German asked, taking a seat in front of you. You looked up from your laptop, putting the pen down, so your complete attention was on her. "Is everything alright?" you questioned, a big frown displayed over your features. It was never a good sign to start conversations like that, "what‘s wrong?"

The defender took a deep breath before she answered straightforward, "be my wife." which came out ruder than intended.

Confused, you looked at her, "I am"

"You‘re not" she declared, her jaw tense.

"What‘re you talking about?" you closed your laptop, "does that mean nothing?" wiggling with your ringfinger.

"No" she didn‘t want to get mad but slowly anger started to float through her body, all her emotions discovering the surface, "because I can‘t wear mine!"

Taken back by her outburst, you matched her tone, "that‘s not my fault! You‘re the athlete, not me"

"You wanted us to be private!" her voice raised, "I could‘ve easily taped my ring" with her finger at the brick of nose, she tried to calm down. That’s not the way she wanted it to turn out - not at all.

"I want to be public" she stated, this time a much softer voice talking to you. The voice you could listen hours to.

"I don’t!"

With her voice level back angry and heart hurt, she growled, "Why not?!"

"I don‘t want to"

Your answer only made her angrier as she stood up and walked around the kitchen counter to pour herself a glass of water.

"That‘s not a reason!"

"You know what?!" leaving the chair, you gathered your notes, "I don‘t have to explain myself"

Feli could only watch as you took your laptop and walked away, in the direction of the front door.

Quickly, she followed you, stopping you in your tracks as she grabbed your wrist, her touch gentle, "Where are you going?"

"Away from you!" you felt so hurt, the insult of not being her wife. Was this whole marriage a joke to her?

"Y/n" she started, the hurt on your face visible for her, "please-"

"No, i got the message" you grumbled, "it‘s yours" angrily you took of the ring, slamming it down on the shelf.

Maybe it was childish to take off your ring but you felt helpless. She had been your girlfriend for many years and your wife for a few years, but never, never ever had she hurt you as much with a statement as she just did.

You left shortly after, Feli standing in the hall with an empty expression on her, your ring between her fingers.

She fucked up. She really did and she knew.

-

It was dark outside, 10 minutes before midnight and you still weren‘t home which made her anxious. The varnish of her nails was peeled off, her leg hobbling up and down and her mind racing with worst case scenarios.

Liebe❤️

When are you coming home?

please let me know

Even though you were hurt, you replied to her text. You hated it not reply to her texts and you could imagine how she was feeling, you hated it too when you didn’t know when she was coming home.

You

one hour.

Feli was laying in bed, anxiously watching the clock in your bedroom as she waited for you to come home. There was no way she would fall asleep before she knew you were safely at home.

Exactly an hour later, you opened the front door, walking into your home, eyes puffy and red. The defender didn’t leave the bed, she didn’t try to approach you nor talk to you. She wanted to let you be. Yet that didn‘t stop her from hoping you would join her in bed.

And you did.

Wordlessly you laid down, your back facing her. The German felt her heart sink, usually you would always cuddle her - she really had fucked up.

It took you about 20 minutes before you fell asleep, your body physically exhausted, Feli still wide awake. As your soft snores filled the room the defender was quick to decide what her next move would be. She couldn’t sleep without holding you, so that‘s what she did. Her arms snuggled around waist as she pulled you close, your body relaxing in her touch. She would make it up to you - that was a promise.

-

You woke up alone in bed, the wolfsburg player nowhere to be seen. Making your way out of bed, dressed in a oversized shirt and shorts, you walked in the kitchen, the smell of pancakes hitting your nostrils, "good morning" you muttered as you rubbed your eyes, taking on seat at the bar stool.

"Hey" the german whispered as she took you in, "I made you breakfast" she handed you the plate which was filled with pancakes.

"Thank you"

It was silent for a few moments.

"I‘m sorry" your wife started, "I’m so sorry. You‘re my wife no matter if the world knows that or not- I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I’m so sorry for insulting you like that" she inhaled sharply, turning to you as she gently interwined your fingers, "I love you. You are everything to me"

"Your comment hurt me" you whispered, your head falling against her shoulder as she instantly wrapped her arms around you. Silent tears streamed down your face as she mumbled sweet nothings in your ear.

"I‘m so sorry, baby" multiple kisses were pressed against your head, "I don’t wanna be public if you don‘t want to. I want you to be happy"

Her hands cupped your cheeks as she made you look at her, her eyes determined with her statement, "I love you"

-

"Can you tell me why you don‘t want to be public?" she asked one evening as she held you in her arms with the tv playing in the background. Her tone was gentle, understanding and as if she would accept every answer, she just had to know an answer.

"I like privacy"

And even though, it was indeed true that you enjoyed your privacy, the real reason to stay in secret was because you were afraid. You feared the public and their words. You didn‘t want your relationship to break down because her fans didn‘t like you or your looks or the fact that you don’t play nor enjoy football.

Just you and her.

-

The topic wasn‘t brought up again yet you could see how it killed Feli from day to day, how much it hurt her to take off her ring every morning. Her eyes stopped shining the way they used to, her smile didn‘t reach the corner of her eyes anymore - the light was missing.

She loved you, she really did and she still treated you like a princess but not wearing her ring, not having the opportunity to show you off left her heart in pain.

Which is why you did what you did one day after her training.

The defender came home with a smile tugged on her lips as she told you about her day.

After her story about the day, "I‘m going to shower, baby" she stated, pressing multiple kisses to your cheeks before she walked towards the bathroom, her phone resting on the kitchen counter.

When you heard the shower, it was safe to say that she wouldn‘t come out of the bathroom for at least 20 minutes.

Snatching her phone from the counter, you made yourself comfortable on the couch. Feli never had a problem if you take her phone, she had nothing to hide and was fully convinced that you would never control her which was true. Never ever would you stalk through her phone or anything, most of the time when you used her phone was for music, hay day or when she asked you to reply to someone. You trusted each other blindly and more than anything, so opening instagram, you did the thing that made her happy, hopefully.

You revealed your marriage with a simple post.

Within seconds her phone blew off, notification after notification.

feli_rauch

jule_brand and 20.364 others

feli_rauch 🤍

When Feli left the bathroom, you were happily cooking some dinner as music played softly in the background. You swayed with the beat, humming along the lyrics as you prepared your meal.

In the meantime Feli walked in the living room as she heard her phone ring constantly. What was happening?

And then she saw it.

Over a thousand notifications on instagram.

Why?

Your post.

"Liebe!" she yelled while she quickly entered the kitchen.

"Ye-" you‘re cut of as lips were pressed against your own, strong arms wrapping around your waist.

Feli kissed you with every inch of love in her body,

she kissed you with so much happiness,

she kissed you with a new found passion.

When air became a problem, you pulled away, the defender chasing after your lips for multiple pecks.

"What was that?" you asked, completely out of breath, lips swollen and chest heavily rising and falling.

Replying with "A thank you" she cupped your cheeks, thumb softly caressing it, "for the- that the world knows I‘m married and happily so"

your cheeks turned red, her gaze so intense as it was filled with love. She smiled brightly at you, a smile that reached the corner of her eyes.

"I‘m sorry for being so secretive, I was afraid of the outcome- the media and fans but I’m done with it. I love you and it‘s time for everyone to know" you stated in a firm voice, ready to fight the world if needed.

"I‘m so in love with you"

-

Since that day, there hasn't been a day where Felicitas took off her wedding ring. In games, she would tape it up, the same as in training. It was her good luck charm and everybody should know it.

—————

[hard-core-super-star]

a kiss to every scar [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: servicetop!hailee steinfeld x [inexperienced] bottom!reader

summary: hailee sets out to show you the ropes of acting on a tv show...unfortunately, your very obvious crush on her distracts her enough to stop being so professional.

warnings: smut -> no minors allowed [this is technically porn with plot but the plot isn't important; fingering [R receiving]; praise + petnames; needy hailee [yes, this deserves a warning]; technically public sex but not really [aka sex in hailee's trailer but she forgets to lock the door]; hailee being overly protective but also very horny; R is technically younger than hailee but the age gap isn't that important, the height gap is though :) [sorry to my tall peeps]]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: this request comes to you straight from our beloved 🧞‍♀️ anon! i tried to balance the fluff and the smut but well...you already know i always end up getting carried away. i TRIED, though. i'm going to make an announcement soon regarding writing hailee so stay tuned for that because it's going to be important. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to surreal experiences. 

It seems like your entire life ever since being cast in your first TV role has been a series of unbelievable experiences after the other. Most of said experiences have been due to the overall excitement that comes with learning lines, going to outfit fittings, and talking through scenes with amazing directors and producers. 

However, the biggest, most surreal, of all the amazing things you’ve done has been meeting, working, and getting to know Hailee Steinfeld herself. The reasons for that are endless since you’re not only a genuine fan of her but you also have a not-so-small crush on her.

A crush that has thankfully managed to pass by undetected considering your overall awe at the work you get to do every day. It’s managed to be so undetected that you haven’t noticed how mutual the admiration that flows between the two of you actually is.

You’re not totally oblivious so you have picked up on some of the looks she sends your way and on the way she’s so adamant about helping you maneuver through the many obstacles that come with being on set all day. None of that seems like anything more than her being nice since you’re so new to a life that she’s lived for so long so you’ve never questioned it.

Plus, you like the feeling of her hand on your waist way more than you’re willing to admit to anyone. (Especially her)

Which is how you ended up getting talked into staying on set to watch Hailee finish her last scene of the day. It’s not something completely uncommon since you love watching her and the director in action but the brunette promised to buy you dinner afterward, something that’s never happened before. 

Your heart and mind have already made up more than enough excuses to overshadow the very clear intentions behind Hailee’s invitation but nothing can take away the pure joy you feel from being near her. 

A joy that draws in the actress like nothing else.

“What’d you think?” Hailee asks as she approaches you, her face lit up by a smile you know all too well.

“You’re incredible,” you reply the same way you always do and successfully draw a little chuckle out of her. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice…and way too much free time.”

She reaches a hand out to you, an unspoken question lingering in the air between you. You waste no time in taking her hand and letting her guide you toward her trailer so she can change back into her normal clothes. 

The walk is spent in the comfortable silence that always seems to follow the two of you and you pretend not to notice the way she keeps looking over at you with every few steps. You know exactly why her eyes keep shifting over to you but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed about it. 

Despite how used to being on set you might be by now, you still admire each and every detail as if it was the first day again. Part of it comes from how unbelievable it all still is and another part of it comes from how cool everything is. There’s always so much to take in and it’s become a habit of yours to be present and grateful for every moment.

A habit that, unbeknownst to you, Hailee finds really adorable.

The list of things she likes about you is quite long but at the top of the list are your wide-eyed looks of wonder and the smile on your face nothing seems to wipe away.

It’s no secret that the brunette has taken a liking to you, especially in her attempts to make sure nothing snuffs out the bright beams of sunlight you carry inside of yourself. She knows exactly what that’s like and she’d sooner lose her role as Kate Bishop than let you fall into any dark spirals.

“So…” She speaks up, gently pulling you closer to her side. “Did anything exciting happen besides watching me?”

Your cheeks flush at her words which makes her grin. “Sort of. Florence and I talked about walking around New York tomorrow since it’s just going to be you and Jeremy filming scenes.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you thinking of going?” She leads you into her trailer while you launch into the specifics of all the places you want to visit and the things you want to see.

The brunette watches you intently, although her attention slips from the words you say to the genuine excitement your body language conveys. You’re too busy talking to notice the way she’s eying you or the way she keeps licking her lips.

You finish your explanation only to be met with complete silence and Hailee’s tall frame leaning comfortably against the door to her trailer. 

“Lee? Were you even listening?”

The tiniest of pouts tugs at your lips and the actress is quick to make her way over to you, completely forgetting about the unlocked door and her promise of taking you to dinner. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re just too cute, I got distracted.”

The “apology” makes your heart skip a couple of beats and you’re sure she notices your flustered state. “I guess that’s fine. I should probably go anyway so you can change.”

You look away from her and attempt to walk away but she stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. The contact makes you stiffen, not because it’s unwelcome but because it sends an overwhelming amount of feelings through your entire body. “You okay, y/n? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

Your eyes remain locked on the ground below you as you shake your head. The lack of a verbal response only serves to worry the brunette further and her free hand quickly tilts your chin up until her warm eyes meet yours. 

She doesn’t say anything but the question on her face is obvious.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you force yourself to answer. “I just…I think I like it too much.”

The concern in her eyes shifts to something else, something bordering on passion, but you’re far too embarrassed to question it. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous. I like you too.”

The words don’t fully register in your brain at first. Sure, you’ve lived through a lot of unbelievable moments but this is something right out of those dreams you can never tell a single soul about. 

“You…you what?”

Hailee chuckles, taking the smallest of steps forward so your bodies are practically touching. “I like you too, baby. I hate to break it to you but you’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Neither are you,” you blurt out.

She leans in a little and your eyes instantly drop down to her lips. “I know.”

Her whispered words are the only warning you have before she claims your mouth with her own. Whatever shock you feel fades away almost instantly and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer.

You’re so caught up in her kiss that you don’t fully register the way she gently pushes you up against the nearest wall and presses herself as close to you as physically possible. You don’t register anything besides the feeling of her lips and the way your hands tangle in her hair so easily.

Hailee’s not as zoned out as you are, though, and her ears pick up on the muffled sounds trying to escape you. She instantly pulls away from you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your response doesn’t seem to convince her but at least she doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your thighs together. “We can stop if you want, I’m not looking for a one-night stand or anything.”

The sincerity in her voice is almost too much to handle and the truth slips out of your lips before you can stop it. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She blinks a few times and you practically watch as the wheels turn inside her brain. “You’ve never…oh. Oh, wow.”

Her response isn’t bad but it leaves you flustered all the same so you lean forward and hide your face in her shoulder. “Hailee…”

“Hey, hey, look at me, baby.”

A few seconds pass before you follow her instructions and she instantly melts your worries away with a soft kiss. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

“It’s cute that I have no idea what I’m doing?” You question.

“Yeah, it just means I’ll have to show you. I mean, um…if you want, of course. There’s no rush.”

All you can do is stare up at her while you think things over. There’s no denying how nervous you are but you trust Hailee more than anyone you’ve ever met before. So, maybe it’s time to take a small leap of faith with her.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The brunette groans in response and the sound goes straight to the growing heat between your legs. She wastes no time in attaching herself to your neck, kissing and sucking every inch she can find.

The sensation is so pleasurable, it borders on overwhelming and your hands grip her shoulders in search of the stability you lost the day you met her.

“You're so pretty,” she murmurs against your skin. “You don't know how long I’ve wanted you for.”

“Hailee-” You gasp as her hands find their way under your shirt.

“I know, let me make you feel good, sweetheart. Can I?”

The answer is more than obvious but you find yourself nodding desperately anyway. You know deep down everything about what you're doing is desperate and yet you can't find it in yourself to want to stop. Maybe it's unconventional but you don't need anything more than the brunette to make your first time unforgettable.

Hailee detaches herself from you long enough to help you shed your shirt, her eyes swooping down to take in every inch of you. Your knees buckle under her gaze and all she does is grin. “You're fucking perfect, baby.”

The words themselves are enough to make you burn a few degrees hotter but then her hands are removing your bra and you're quickly standing topless in front of her appreciative eyes.

Her fingers soon follow the path her eyes trace and you shudder in ways you can't describe. Her thumbs gently rub against your nipples, your back arching almost instantly as you turn into putty in her hands.

“Does that feel good, darling?” All you can offer is a moan and she chuckles. “Gonna need some words.”

“Yes. Feels so fucking good.”

“There you go,” she murmurs, swooping in to litter kisses along your jawline. “Good girl.”

She pinches your nipples right as the words escape her lips and you're sure you almost pass out from the pleasure. “Oh- please.”

“Begging already?” Despite her question, one of her hands leaves your sensitive nipples to trail down the front of your body. “Do you think you're wet enough for me to touch you yet?”

You hum in response and attempt to keep your hips under control. “So wet for you.”

“Look at you,” she coos while her hand slips under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear. “You’re already an expert at getting what you want from me.”

“Lee,” you whine. “Don’t tease, babe.”

“I’m sorry, you're just so cute like this.” She rests her forehead against yours, everything about her seemingly cool and collected while you're burning up and panting. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts too much.”

Your inexperience leaves you a little clueless…until she starts to slip one finger inside your tight cunt. You gasp almost instantly, your body tensing at the intrusion.

“Relax, baby. I've got you.”

It's hard to fully relax but Hailee does her best to keep you distracted by murmuring soft praises and keeping up her gentle touches to your breasts. The full length of her finger sinks inside and she gives you a moment to breathe and adjust.

“How’re you feeling?” She asks, warm eyes searching your face for signs of unease or pain.

“Full,” you mumble with a smile.

She lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Fuck. That's so hot.”

The brunette leans in to kiss you before you can reply and you happily melt into the contact. You don't realize it’s yet another loving distraction until she starts to slowly pump her finger in and out of you.

You moan against her lips, the sound coming out muffled but no less desperate. Your walls clench almost uncontrollably with every move she makes which only fuels her need to pleasure you.

“You're doing so well for me,” she mumbles. “Taking me so well, aren't you, baby?”

Her words cause an unfamiliar feeling to start to rise from deep within you that only gets stronger once her thumb finds your sensitive clit. Your hips buck into her hand and she ends up burying her face into your neck to stop herself from getting too wild.

She somehow manages to keep her slow pace, fucking you nice and gentle to build up your orgasm and prolong your pleasure. At the end of the day, all she wants is to keep you happy.

“You’re so close, aren't you, sweetheart? I can feel it, the way you can’t stop clenching around me. God, it makes me so wet.”

You don't know what triggers it, maybe it's her words or her thrusts or the tight circles around your clit, but you fall over the edge instantly with a cry so loud, she has to kiss you to drown it out.

It’s impossible to describe how you feel. It's like you're floating and underwater and in the heart of the sun all at the same time. All you know is you've never felt pleasure like this and it's all thanks to Hailee freaking Steinfeld.

Hailee holds you close until your body stops shaking and you slump forward into her. “Hey, welcome back, y/n.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, every muscle in your body feeling absolutely spent yet satisfied.

She doesn't reply. She merely removes her hand from your sensitive center and kisses the side of your head.

“So…are you still up for dinner or…?”

“You're the worst.”

[mochamvgz]

what they would save ur contact as

; i don't think this needs a synopsis? it's all in the title

; ot7 enhypen x reader

; genre: hcs, non idol au, established relationship, fluff

; warnings: slight profanity, miraculous, some members being total simps, being called short by niki

; 0.5k words

; perm taglist: @inkelea @yuerki

heeseung || ramyeon partner🍜💛

the two of you LOVE ramyeon so it's only fitting. your first date, all the way back when you guys were in uni, was having ramyeon at a local convenience store for crying out loud!

and OF COURSE you immediately fished out your phone from your pocket to change his contact to the same

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jay || my pretty girl💐 (in a completely not possesive and absolutely unpatriarchal way!)

if you saw xander hawthorne you're a real one pls marry me

we already know this guy is THE ultimate green flag so this came as a surprise to no one

you and jay are also massive feminists and no sticklers for insecure masculinity hence the parenthesis

when you find out what you're saved as on his phone you can't help but fall in love with your boyfriend all over again

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jake || bugaboo🐞❤️🖤

if you think miraculous is a kids show GET OUTTA HERE

"there's no way you saved me as that"

"why? is there a problem bugaboo?"

without a word you unlock your phone, open ur contacts, scroll down to find his and hold it up in front of him

jake raises his brow at you and directs his attention to your screen, his mouth immediately forming an 'o'

" ‘chat noir’ ? oh my god you're kidding!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunghoon || (name)

the guy first saved your number when you were paired up for a project which was 2 whole years ago mind you and for some reason it just never? occurred? to him? to change it??

of course you're mad when you find out

"seriously hoon?"

"i'm sor-"

"give me your phone"

he complies. you unlock and open his contacts going to ‘favourites’, clicking on your contact which is at the top of the list duh

you change your contact name from ‘(name)’ to ‘the love of my life💘’ and hand his phone back. he raises his brows when he sees what you did but doesn't say anything because it's true

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

sunoo || QWEEN🙌👑

"YES!!! GO QUEEN!!!"

you guys were hanging out at his place one day, all snuggled up watching a movie and the female lead just did something super badass making you jump up

sunoo doesn't waste a moment grabbing the opportunity

"but you're my queen"

you're surprised at the abruptness of the compliment but try to appear more ‘seriously dude?’ rather than a blushing mess

"what? it's true i even have your contact saved as that"

he brandishes his phone to show you

there's no stopping the blush now

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

jungwon || yang jungwon's girlfriend 😤💖💓

when you ask him why he's referring to himself in third person he'd say

"in case my phone ever gets stolen or something, the thief would still know you're mine"

you can't take it anymore and burst out laughing

"what?" he'd ask with his brows furrowed

"you're ridiculous"

"but you still love me" he's right about that

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

niki || shortie🙄

to be fair your height is above average but your boyfriend is a fucking giant and even then you're only like 2 cm shorter

he still can't leave it alone tho and teases you about it to no end

"are you for real?"

"what? it's true ya know"

"for fuck's sake it's only 2 cm"

and just like that the two of you are at it again

; a/n: surprise surprise! my first hc yayyy! i hope this turned out okay bc i had no idea what i was doing lmao💀 ily if you got the reference in the jake one no i don't just mean miraculous

© mochamvgz on tumblr | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise, repost or translate any of my works

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VIII)

Pairing | Eddie x shy!reader Warnings | 18+ only. Do not interact if you are underage. Roleplay (PrincessxWannabe Usurper lmao), sexual fantasies (including rockstarxgroupie), Eddie says some weird possessive stuff but reader likes it, oral (M receiving), P in V sex, dom!Eddie, sexual guilt as per, there’s aftercare. Word Count | 10,400 A/N | Nobody ask me about the timeline of this story, either in the fic or how long it takes me to write it. Taglist Previous Chapter

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

The air is stuffy, despite the growing chill outside. The last days of Summer are at least a week gone now, and with Autumn comes heated stores. An ABBA song is playing on the main floor, filtering through enough for you to make out the tune. It’s the sort of thing your Mom plays in the car all the time, your mind following the words even though you can’t quite hear them over the buzzing ceiling lights. 

I try to capture every minute, the feeling in it. Slipping through my fingers- 

The curtains pull back, the sound of metal over metal dragging you to full attention. May’s eyes are bright with excitement as she twirls, showing off how the strapless black dress fits around her waist and flares out at her hips. 

“It’s perfect, right?” She says, smoothing it down only to twirl and puff the skirt up again. “Ooh, let me see with the jacket.” 

You search through the bag at your feet for the cropped jacket she’d found earlier, then watch as she pulls it over her shoulders. She fluffs her hair and poses in the mirror at the end of the changing room hallway. “I mean it actually is perfect, right?”

“For sure, you can totally see who you are already.” 

“Right? And then I can just backcomb my hair a little. My Mom’s gonna lend me her scarf. God knows what earrings I’ll wear, but I can work it out. Definitely can’t get anything new after this,” she finishes, turning her head and pulling at the tag on her back to double check the price. She pulls a face before tucking it away gingerly.

“That bad?” 

“That bad. Even with 30% off.” May smooths her hands over the skirt again, turning once more to the mirror. Her smile lights up her pretty face. “But totally worth it.” 

Once the dress is folded and wrapped in tissue paper by the woman at the counter, paid for with what seems like every spare penny in May’s purse, attention moves to your costume. “Okay, Fairy God Mother,” May says, linking her arm with yours. “Game plan. Where do we need to go?”

“I think just the costume store. I have a blue dress I can use. But I’d like some wings and a wand. Maybe a tiara, if I can afford it.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna look so cute. Are you sure you don’t want to come to Tommy’s party?”

“The whole reason I’m dressing up is for Grace,” you reason, spotting the orange banner reading City of Fright, which appears in the same spot every year mid-September and vanishes November first. 

Gone are ABBA’s lilting tones, replaced with stock Halloween music, the occasional creepy laugh and thunder clap. The entire front of the store is complete costumes, wrapped up in plastic and hanging on metal rods, but once you reach the shelves at the back, you are surrounded by an array of vampire teeth, witches hats and face paints. 

“Eddie’s renting Theatre of Blood,” you tell her, not waiting for a reaction before launching into a prepared defence. “It sounds really good. It’s about an actor who takes revenge on his critics by murdering them like Shakespearian deaths - drowning in Malmsey wine, that kind of thing. He picked it cause, you know, he thought I’d like it.” 

“Okay, but she’ll be in bed by what? Eight?” May asks, wandering around the table of paraphernalia as you start thumbing through fairy wings piled next to fake blood bags, searching for the right blue. “You could come after.”

There’s a moment of silence, then she sighs softly. “Okay, I will say it’s kind of cute that he picked that. In a weird, not really that cute cause it’s a horror movie about gruesome murders, sort of way.” 

You stifle a grin, chancing a look at her over the table. “That sounded…almost like a compliment?”

“Almost,” she agrees, walking back round to your side. Then, before you can answer, she has seized a shiny silver plastic tiara and is reaching out to place it gently on your hair. “There. Fit for a Princess.”

You shake your head, laughing. “What about a Fairy Godmother?”

May hums, grabbing a set of the net and wire wings and pulling them over her arms. “I’m the fairy now!” She declares, raising her chin and going up on tiptoes to whirl around the racks, wings shaking behind her. “Here to make all your Halloween costume dreams come true!” 

Your heart warms, a giggle escaping as she peers curiously at the rubber masks and cat ears in character, mumbling about the strange habits of humans. 

“Oh please, fairy godmother! I need a wand if I’m going to look anything like the real thing!” 

“A wand, of course!” She cries dramatically. “No true fairy would be seen dead without their wand.” You watch her scurry on tip toe around until she comes to a display of wands of various colours, topped by stars and hearts, sequined tassels and glittery handles. She wiggles her fingers above them, picks out one with a simple silver star and travels back to you gracefully. You take it from her with a flourish. “There, and now your wings.” She helps you into your own pair, then turns and throws a graceful hand into the air. “Now, we fly!” 

You flit about after her, laughing at her with every pause she takes to frown disapprovingly at fake scars and rubber spiders. She stops in front of a Tinkerbell costume, pointing with a surprised smile at the model on the package. “Hey, I know her!”

You snort a laugh and it sets her off, all attempts to stifle your laughter only making it worse. Your giggles are only beginning to settle when you feel the sudden awareness of being watched tickle the back of your neck. 

“Uh, hi girls.” 

Your heart drops. Caroline stands, a hand over her mouth, barely covering the smirk. “You look like you’re having…fun.”

Suddenly, the clear elastic of the wings is too tight around your shoulders. You can feel the crooked angle of the tiara atop your head, close to slipping off entirely. The wand in your hand isn’t silver now, just chipped paint on plastic. 

Next to you, May is wrenching off her wings, laughing airily. “Just messing around,” she assures, folding them up and holding them with a tight fist at her hip. “You costume shopping?”

Caroline looks around at where you are. “I mean, obviously. Not for me, though, for Ethan,” she sighs. “You know boys, no interest in shopping.” She sets her stare on you, eyes scanning from the crooked tiara downwards. “Are you girls dressing up together?”

Your throat feels blocked, leaving you just to shake your head. May answers for you both. “No, no. Like I said, we’re just messing around. So we should probably put this stuff back.” She slides her wings into the space between some hanging masks before elbowing you into action. You’ve abandoned the tiara and wand and are in the process of sliding off the wings when she adds, coolly, “I’m actually going as Madonna.”

Caroline’s smirk falls, replaced at terrifying speed with a deep frown. “What? You can’t, I’m doing Madonna. I’ve got a veil and everything. Ethan’s going to be Sean Penn.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going as her in Desperately Seeking Susan, so it’ll be, like, totally different.”

“But I don’t think there should be two Madonna’s,” Caroline continues, almost sounding sympathetic. She crosses her arms, shrugging. “You’ll just have to go as somebody else.”

“Oh,” May says, shoulders falling. “Um, right. I get what you mean.”

You’re not in the habit of arguing with Caroline. It’s been easier, historically, not to contradict her or answer back. But you can feel May deflating beside you, and it tumbles out. “But you won’t look similar or anything, they’re completely different costumes.”

“They’re not though.” She answers with finality. “They’re both Madonna, and the last thing we want is comparisons, right? People talking about who wears it better all night?”

May nods. “You’re right. Totally. I’ll think of something else. No worries.”

“But May, your dress! You can’t return it now, it was on sale!” 

“It’s fine,” May snaps before smiling close mouthed at Caroline. “I can find something else to wear, no issue.”

“You could be fairies together!” Caroline says. “I bet the guys at Tommy’s party would love that.”

“No, no, like I said, we were just messing around,” May says. “Not really my thing. And anyway, she’s not coming on Friday.”

“Oh no!” Caroline pushes her bottom lip out into a pout. “But I haven’t seen you outside of school in ages!”

“I’m babysitting,” you explain, clutching your removed wings in your fists. 

“Oh sure you are, not spending the night with your boyfriend. We hardly see you anymore, I feel like there must be so much detail we’ve all been missing out on. You’ll have to come on the next girls trip, right May? So we can hear all about you and…Eddie.”

Your heart pounds as May nods. “Yeah,” she answers. “Eddie can’t have all your time.”

“Perfect. Well, let me know what you end up doing, May! See you later, girls!”

She flounces away, and May hides her face in her hands. “I can’t believe she saw me doing that.” 

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not!” She says, throwing her hands up. Her eyes shine with frustrated tears. “It’s not okay! Not for me, anyway. It’s different for you, people already think you’re weird.” 

You blink at your friend. Then you look down at the speckled linoleum floor, watch the spots fuzz and blend into each other as the lump in your throat builds. Before five seconds have passed, her arms appear at your sides, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean that.”

But you know that she did. You know that’s exactly what she thinks. 

For the moment you have to think about what you say now, you imagine calling her out on this. Pushing her away and telling her that she doesn’t have to spend any more time with you, given you embarrass her so much. You’d buy your fairy wings and your crown, walk out with your head held high. 

Maybe she’d call after you, apologise again, say that losing you isn’t worth impressing Caroline or sitting at the cheerleader table.

But maybe any pain she’d feel at the prospect of your friendship ending would only bring out her anger. Maybe she’d swear to never speak to you again. 

If you were somebody else, someone who didn’t love May, maybe you’d take that risk. But you are you, and you’ve loved May since you were five. To you, the only thing worse than feeling hurt yourself is the thought of hurting her back.

So you shake your head at her shoulder, blink away tears and squeeze her tight in your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling away from her collar that smells the way being seven smelled. You release her, and in turn her arms fall from you. “I get it, you’re just stressed.”

“I know! I don’t know what I’m going to do about my costume!” 

Your heart pangs. You swallow the lump in your throat that’s trying to rise back up. “Well, at least the dress is black,” you say, sniffing quick and quiet. You drag your hands over your eyes, clearing away the wetness clinging to your bottom lashes. Stop it, you think. Stop crying. “Let’s return the jacket, yeah? Then you’ll have money for a witch hat or something.” 

May nods slowly as she thinks it through. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, that works.” She gives you a relieved smile. “God, what would I do without you? Let’s go.”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦  

“Well, I didn’t think I wanted glasses because Katie has glasses,” Grace explains, holding her plastic pumpkin, now close to overflowing with candy, in both hands at her stomach. She looks at you with a look too knowing for a seven year old, then continues. “Katie is a tattle tale.”

“I see,” you nod. 

“But I want ones like Jessica’s!” She cries, arms extending with the weight of her treasure trove before she pulls it back up. “They go dark in the sun!”

“It’s not the same,” she whines. “And then when we went to the optom- uhm.”

“But you already have sunglasses,” you reason, picturing the little red plastic pair you’ve had to run back for when out on walks many times. Grace hefts the pumpkin again and you give in, lifting the bag from her grasp and burying your wand in with the candy. You soften when she grabs your hand with a deep sigh.

“The optometrist?”

“Yeah, when we went to see him, he said my eyes were perfect!”

“Well, that’s good.”

“No!” She yells, dramatically, pulling on your arm with her whole weight until you have to  heave yourself back up. You stifle a giggle at her distraught expression. “Because now I’ll never get glasses, and everybody has them.”

“Well, first of all, I’m sure not everybody has them,” you say, smiling down at her grumpy face. “And secondly, you shouldn’t just want something like glasses because other people have them, even if it was everybody else. You can’t just live your life just trying to be like everyone around you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. Then, catching your raised eyebrow, “I know!”

You round the corner to her street, and by the time you’re approaching her house, she’s moved comfortably on to the next topic of her candy eating schedule for the next three days. “Because Jessica saves all her Skittles for last,” Grace explains, her position now firmly against being anything like Jessica. “Which is stupid, because you should have the best candy first.”

“Mm? Why’s that?”

Grace looks at you with a frown. “Because the best comes first,” she tells you, with the tone of somebody kindly trying to hold in their frustration with an imbecile. 

“Of course, silly of me to ask. Hi, Mrs. Miller!”

Grace’s Mom was clearly waiting for you near the front door, already out and standing on the front steps as you walk up the front path. Grace holds her hands out to take her bucket back, launching forward when she’s got ahold of it. “Mom! Look at all my candy!”

“Whoa! There’s no way you’ll be able to eat all that!” Her Mom says, eyes comically wide. “Think you need someone to help you out, hm?”

Grace shrieks indignantly, running under her Mom’s arm inside and clambering up the stairs out of sight without a bye nor leave for you. 

“Everything went okay?” Her Mom asks, smiling when you give her your usual answer, all fine. “Will you be okay getting home? I can get her back down if you need a ride.”

“Oh, um,” you check either side of the street, feeling suddenly warmed inside at the sight of Eddie’s van parked at the end of the road. Now that you’re concentrating on it, you’re sure you can hear the music blasting behind glass. “No, it’s okay. That’s my boyfriend.”

“Ah, Eddie.” She smiles, then smacks her teeth as she, too, registers his music. “Maybe tell him to keep it down next time? I don’t mind but I already get monthly phone calls from Mrs O’Hara about the sound of the lawnmower.” 

“Oh, sorry. I’ll do that,” 

“Okay,” she says, calling after you as you start up a fast pace towards Eddie. “You have a good night!”

You pull your cardigan sleeves down over your hands to fight the chill as you move, smiling when you can properly make out Eddie sitting in the front seat. He had a special D&D night planned when he dropped you off at Grace’s earlier. While your costume sat folded in your bag all day, he’d gone to school dressed all in black, even his white Reeboks swapped out for a pair of knockoff doc martens he’d launched himself towards when he caught sight of them at the thrift store. They’d fit him just fine with three pairs of socks.

This morning, sitting in his van, he’d barely managed to control his excited twitches while you lined his eyes with a cheap black pencil from the drugstore. Your work is a little smudged now, but on him, it looks even better than before. Which makes sense, you think. Eddie doesn’t suit neat lines. 

“Hi Princess!” He calls, turning the music down enough that his excitement is just audible through the glass as you approach. 

“Not a Princess,” you remind him as you climb in, turning your back to shake your shoulders and display the blue net wings. “A Fairy God Mother.” You settle back into the seat, shivering away the chill that had gooseflesh rising over your body. Eddie rubs your arm over your cardigan, and you take the opportunity to grab his hand. As much as you want to warm your cold fingers, it’s mainly just to touch him. “How was the game?”

His grin turns sharp as he leans back in his chair, chin tilted up. “So fucking good. I have them right where I want them. I thought for a second Lucas had me worked out. He hesitated when they were getting to the caves, but then he just went along with it. I can’t wait till next week.” He lets go of your hand long enough to start up the van before returning his open palm to the space between you for you to take hold of him again. “How is Princess Grace?”

“Increasingly despotic. She executed like five of her toys before we went out trick or treating.” 

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “What for?” 

“Well, her not-so-wise Fairy God Mother,” you start, gesturing to yourself. “Made the mistake of telling her about royal food tasters? Now there’s a poisoning attempt every few days.” 

“Very active imagination, this girl. Violent, but active.”

“Mm, I think most girls play that way. When I was little- Well, me and May, we’d act like witches sometimes? And make potions out of mud and sticks and stuff. And talk about who we would curse.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “And which poor soul had earned this spite, pray tell?” 

“Did you ever have Mr Gilmour?”

“Oh, Gilmour, yeah, I fuckin' hated that guy!” Eddie yells. His eyebrows furrow. “I threw up during gym in seventh grade and the sadistic prick made me finish running a mile.” 

“Yeah, I forgot about that till now.” His brows stay taught for a second longer, then he shakes his head a little, tapping his fingers along your knuckles. “Too bad I didn’t have you around then, coulda cursed him for me a little earlier.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s horrible.”

“I would have,” you promise. “But you were telling me about the game. Did you get Dustin with the, um, venom troll?”

“Not yet. We didn’t get as far as I’d have wanted before they had to go. I mean, what fourteen year old has a curfew? I didn’t, and I turned out alright. But I’ll get him next week. I can’t wait to see his face - that little punk thinks he’s so smart, but he is pre-dictable.”

Eddie continues describing the campaign, the traps he’s set for them that he’s sure they’ll run into, the whole drive to his place, excited and animated as he usually is on the rare occasion you get to see him after Hellfire, wound up from the events of the day. He only slows down when you’re settled on his couch. Sneakers left at the door, wings, tiara, and wand abandoned on the kitchen table, wrapped up in his arms as the opening titles of Theatre of Blood play. 

Eddie’s so warm, and unusually still when you sit with him like this. Being cuddled up to him puts you in mind of your aunt’s black cat. She spends the first couple hours of every visit pretending that she isn’t interested in being anywhere near you. Then, after letting her sniff your hand, rubbing gently between her ears, she darts up on your lap, her soft heat spreading through you. 

Eddie might not admit it, at least not verbally, but he likes being petted the same way. You’ve seen his eyes flutter when you play with his hair, heard the gentle sighs he lets out when you touch his cheek. Now, leaning into his chest, rubbing lazily at his torso, you can feel the way his body relaxes into the couch under your touch. It makes you smile at the TV even as Vincent Price swears revenge on all his critics.

You turn your head just a little, trying to be subtle as much as possible so you can look at him properly. Eddie’s eyes, which in sunlight can be bright as copper, are dark and focused in the electric light of the TV. The light freckles that dotted the tops of his cheeks and nose during Summer have faded from the cloudy days and early sunsets, leaving only his soft pale skin. His lips, as always, are soft looking and pink, still shiny from the last time his tongue peeked out, set in a near constant subtle pout. 

You sigh gently, and in turn breathe in the remnants of smoke and laundry detergent from his shirt, the fading spice of his drugstore aftershave.

“You know I picked this movie out special,” he says, only his eyes moving to fix you with a mockingly suspicious expression. “Vincent’s a master.”

You’re surprised to find you’re not ashamed at having been caught. “M’just looking at you.”

“Therein lies the problem, sweet thing. One minute you’re just looking. Next thing I know my head’s trapped between your thighs.” This time he leans in properly. “Wicked temptress.” He whispers it, his breath warming your face. 

You think he’ll kiss you then, but instead he relaxes back into the couch with a sigh. “M’just lucky you weren’t dressed up all day.” His hand tugs at the hem of your skirt, then spreads out just above your knee. “I wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else. It’s a miracle I even got the movie playing instead of trying to touch you.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you answer, trying not to sound too eager. 

“I bet,” he says, eyes shining. Then his face turns serious, palm coming to his heart. “But Eddie the Chivalrous would never touch a Princess without properly wooing her first.” His eyes scan over your face quickly. “I guess that means we need to finish the movie.”

He’s teasing you. He wants to push, see how much he can get you to say, if you’ll ask him outright to just touch you the way you want. Warring feelings compete to decide what you do next. Maybe months ago, when you first started dating Eddie, you would have pressed your thighs together and settled in to finish the film. A part of you still calls for that, screams that whatever you say won’t be right. 

You stare at Eddie now. His eyes still lined dark, the smirk he’s trying to hide. Your toes curl just looking at him, and the thought escapes naturally. “You don’t look like Eddie the Chivalrous, right now.” 

Eddie blinks slowly. His head tilts. “No? Who do I look like, then?” 

Now, something like shame creeps back in, and you wish you’d just settled down to watch the movie.

You haven’t ever put a name to it before. In your fantasies, the ones that appear unprompted when you’re alone in your bed and you haven’t been able to touch him in a couple days, Eddie’s always Eddie, but sometimes just a little different. 

Maybe Eddie the Chivalrous is the right name for how you first thought about him like that, calling you Princess as usual but meaning it. You thought about him as your knight and guard, sworn to protect you, breaking all the rules by laying you down and treating you gently, better than any lord or Prince you could be promised to.

Then you’d think about his laugh, the one that comes out when you moan a little loud, or lose your patience and try to direct his hands or his tongue to where you need him. The mocking gasp and teasing tone that often comes along with it, you want it bad, huh, Princess? You think about an Eddie who’s like that all the time, teasingly mean with you, dark and dangerous to everyone else, finding you alone in your soft bed, holding your hands above your head and- and-

People already think you’re weird.

You give in to the sudden hot shame, pressing your face to Eddie’s chest lest he read your expression so perfectly that he works it all out. You whisper into his shirt, more to yourself than him. “I’m so weird.” 

“Well, s’a good thing you’re with me then, mm?” He says, big hand moving to stroke the back of your neck. “Cause if you got a fantasy, like, something you think about when I’m not around. You know I won’t judge you for it, right?” 

“I know.” It comes out muffled against his shirt but it’s certain. It’s instinctual, now. You’re as sure that you don’t need to worry about Eddie judging you as you are that the sun will rise tomorrow morning. More and more, you find yourself talking to him the way you talk to yourself in your head. Easy and free, not waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this is different. “It’s just- It’s like-” You sigh, searching for the words that won’t come. 

He hums, still rubbing your neck. “Maybe I could- I mean, do you…wanna hear one ‘a mine?” You emerge from your hiding place, leaning back into his hand to gauge how serious he is. Eddie’s eyes crinkle at the sides at having coaxed you into looking at him again. “Yeah?”  

“Okay.” 

“Okay,” he echoes. Eddie searches his side for the remote first, pausing Vincent in the middle of another monologue. “Okay. Well, yeah, sometimes I think about- Wait no, gotta set the scene. I’ve just played maybe the best show of my life. Nothing too big,” he continues, giving you a serious look. “I’m not a sell out. We’re talking the smaller arenas, you know? Anyway, after, when I get backstage, feeling like hot shit, there’s this girl. Prettiest I’ve ever seen. And she’s wearing the band’s shirt.”

“And she’s a little shy. Can barely look me in the eye-” He catches you just as your gaze moves to his collar, pulling you back to staring, helpless, into his dark eyes. Eddie takes your hand from where it was playing with the hem of his shirt, weaving your fingers together. “She’s kinda fidgety, too.”

You swallow. “Me?”

“You, sweet thing. S’always you.” You bite the gum behind your bottom lip, holding back from grinning too much. You squirm a little under his gaze, waiting for him to speak again. “And you tell me you’ve been waiting for me,” Eddie says, voice smooth and quiet. “You tell me you’re my biggest fan. And you can’t quite say everything you wanna say, but it doesn’t matter, cause I’ve got you worked out. So I get real close,” he says, his face disappearing as his mouth moves towards your ear, “and I ask if you want me to touch you?”

“And I do,” you continue for him, shivering again at the little groan Eddie lets escape from his throat. 

“Mm hm, real bad.” His eyes reappear, scanning over each part of your face. “So bad you wanna earn it. Wanna show me I was right to pick you and not some other girl. You get on your knees for me.” Eddie licks his lips quick. “And I know you’re kinda inexperienced, but it’s good, the best I’ve ever had. You know why?” You shake your head, gaze darting between his eyes and his mouth. You watch his lips move around his words. “Cause you’re so fucking grateful for it.” 

“Mm. And when I decide you’ve earned it, I lay you back on a couch somewhere. A green room or a tour bus or something. And I show you you were right to wait for me.” You shiver. It’s a delicious thrill to picture Eddie that way, completely new to you, a total stranger, yet so sure of what he can take. “And after that?” He says, giving the back of your neck a squeeze. “I keep you.”

“Eddie.” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, wishing he would touch you there now, or even put you on your knees the way he wants so you could show him you’re as grateful for him here and now as you are in his fantasy. 

The fantasy fades when Eddie kisses you. With the press of his lips, the taste of Dr Pepper on his tongue, he’s your Eddie again, familiar and perfect. You’re still floating back to Earth when he pulls away. “Your turn.”

You flinch, crashing to the ground instead. “What?”

“You like Latin, right? It’s quid pro quo, sweetheart. I show you mine, you show me yours. Tit for tat. That was the deal.”

“It was implied.” Eddie answers breezily. Then, with his thumb rubbing gently at the back of your hand. “C’mon. Try? You liked mine, right?” You give a barely noticeable nod, but Eddie catches it. “Yeah. And I bet I’ll like yours.”

“There was no deal!”

“I can’t- I don’t have it all, like, thought out the way you do.”

“Well, I’m a storyteller by trade,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. “All my sex fantasies have lore. And we can build on yours, if it needs it.Alright. I’m not Eddie the Chivalrous right now. Who am I?” He tilts his chin to where you have started playing with his rings, twisting each round his fingers in turn. “Apart from Eddie the Stress Toy.”

“It’s not- You’re just-” You swallow, rubbing your thumb over the metal skull sitting where a wedding ring would go. “You’re just somebody…somebody I shouldn’t want.”

“Intriguing. And you are?” Your face flames. You mumble it, barely opening your lips, and Eddie squints. “Mm?”

You sigh. “Princess.”

“Always,” Eddie replies, ducking his head to make sure you see his face, reassuringly still smiling. “Okay. I can work with this. Maybe I'm…Eddie the Banished. I tried to take power for myself by force but I failed.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses the thin skin at your wrist. “And I’ve returned, because I realised I don’t need to win a battle. I just have to…take the Princess?”

You clench around nothing. “Yeah.”

“Fuck, yeah. C’mon, sweet thing.” 

Your gaze follows him as he stands. “You want- Right now?”

“Why not? We’re all dressed up. The time is now.” Eddie pauses his excitement when he registers the fact you’re still sitting. “If…if you want.”

“I do,” you breathe. “But I can’t, y’know, talk like you.” You just know Eddie already has some dialogue thought up, things he can say as the character he’s just come up with that will make you dizzy. “I’ll get stuck.”

“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Eddie says, squatting down in front of you, hands spread out on your knees. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Besides, the Princess would be kinda nervous anyway, right? If you’re not supposed to want me. The outlaw, the traitor. You’ve been told about all the terrible things I’ve done, what I tried to do for power. Now you feel guilty about what you really want from me. And I’ve been thinking about you while I’ve been on the run, living rough- You know, this is good stuff,” he says, interrupting himself and looking round. “You got a pen? I should maybe write some of this down- No. After, sorry.” He gives you a sheepish grin, then leans in close. “Don’t think there’s much chance I’ll forget this, anyway.” 

He stands then, hand extended to you with wiggling fingers for you to take and let him guide you through to his room. Eddie hums when his door is closed, shutting out the world beyond the frame. “Shoulda done this at yours,” he says, sitting you down on the mattress. “In your pretty Princess bed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say breathlessly, meaning it entirely. All that matters is it’s him. He’s the only person you could do something like this with. 

“Okay, I need a little more. You shouldn’t want me, I’m…morally grey, let’s say. Chaotic neutral. Am I mean?”

“Kinda,” you answer. “You’re…selfish?”

“Selfish,” he repeats. 

“Just like, y’know. It’s like-” Eddie’s hands spread at the sides of your thighs, teasing the skin at the hem of your skirt. You want them everywhere. “You know I want you. That I’ll…do things for you. And you take advantage. ”

There’s a pause. “I think I’m following. Things somebody like you shouldn’t do?” You nod quickly, cheeks burning as you watch him work it out. “You wanna get your mouth on me, Princess?”

You fight the instinct to hide, the urge to look away, the voice telling you to deny everything, take it back. Instead, you start playing with the hem of his shirt again, soft cotton between your fingers.  

“Mm hm.”

“Shit. Okay. Anything-” His voice cracks a touch, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “Anything else?”

“It’s not like- Even though you’re mean, you still- With me, you feel-” Now you do have to look away, staring at where your fingers are fiddling with the black fabric. He can read you too well, and you don’t want him to see exactly what you want from him. “You-”

You love me. 

“I feel…how I feel about you?” He suggests.

You bite the gum behind your lip to stop yourself asking exactly what that means. “Yeah.”

“Okay, good. Hard to pretend anything else.” Eddie leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, long enough that your whole body relaxes into it, your mind settling on Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. When he pulls away, it’s easy to answer his question. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Eddie stands to full height, his shoulders back. He tilts his head, expression shifting. From your Eddie, with chestnut eyes and his perfect, dimpled smile, to a smirking man with a dark gaze excited to ruin you. 

“I’ve been looking for you, Princess,” he says, voice smooth and confident. A thrilled shiver runs up your spine. “Knew I’d find you eventually, but I could only hope I’d find you like this. All alone.” He takes a step towards you. “Unprotected-”

“Eddie,” you whisper. 

Softness peaks through with raised eyebrows. “Good?” You nod quickly, and it disappears again as he slinks closer towards you. “I missed you, while I was away,” he tells you, soft and teasing. “Did you miss me?”

“I-” You swallow. You’re used to repeating back what Eddie says to you, in times like this, letting him guide you through everything he wants to hear from you. But you don’t want to just watch him do this for you. “No.”

Eddie blinks, surprised, then he puts on a mockingly hurt face, hand over his heart. “No? You wound me, Princess.” That same hand reaches for your face, cupping your cheek. His thumb strokes gently under your eye and you can’t help but lean into him. “Or you would, if I believed you.” He tilts your head up to see him properly, standing over you. “You think I didn’t see the way you’d look at me, before I left?”

Your fingers twitch to reach out and brush at the ends of his hair as it falls towards you, but you keep them at your sides on the bed, curling into the sheets. “You didn’t leave, you-”

“Left, banished, driven out; it all comes to the same end, mm?” His eyes scan your face, down your dress and back up. “That’s you and me, Princess. Here, alone together. You gonna pretend you never wanted that?”

His thumb, callused and warm, keeps rubbing over your cheek. “I can’t want it”

“No, you can,” he presses. Eddie, your Eddie, would sit with you now, squat in front of you to talk to you at the same level. Now, his grip on your jaw tightens just enough to remind you that he could stop you looking away if you tried. “Cause I’ve had time to think about it.”

“While you were hiding in the woods?”

“While I was regrouping,” he corrects. “I realised something. I went about it all wrong.” he tells you. “It was foolish of me to try and use force to get what I want. Not when you were right here. Waiting for me.”

His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, then presses inside to the tip of your tongue. 

“If I make you mine, everything else follows. That’s right, isn’t it?” He nods slowly until you copy him. “The throne, power, vengeance on everyone who tried to hold me back. And you, in my bed every night. All day if I wanted.” He pulls at your lip again as he steals his thumb back, leaning in until his breath is warm against your cheeks. “That sounds nice. Doesn't it, Princess?” You glance at his lips, wanting him to kiss you now, to take it from you. Eddie shakes his head, drawing your gaze back to his. “I wanna hear you say it. You wanted me to touch you, just like this, and more, didn’t you? Wanted me to show you how to make me happy?”

You can feel your heartbeat heavy in your chest, your breath coming quicker. Only Eddie could do this, have you convinced of a story which before tonight only existed half formed in the fantasies of your bedroom. You can feel the internal conflict as if it really is your duty to say no, and your heart’s only desire to give your next answer.

“Yes, Eddie.”

He gives you a kiss that’s half teeth, dragging at your bottom lip. Even this is different. You’re used to the gentle start, feeling him smile on your mouth. He breathes deep through his nose, pulls from you so suddenly that you make to follow him until he presses a hand to your shoulder. 

“And I will. Get on the floor.” Eddie steps back, and it doesn’t even occur to argue with him now. You slide off the mattress easily, knees falling to the carpet without looking away from him. There’s a pause. He speaks quietly, as if he doesn’t want an invisible audience to hear. “You comfy? You want the pillow?” 

“No,” you answer, heart aching. “I’m okay.” 

“Okay.”

You watch the way he steels his face again, looking at you on your knees in front of him like that’s where you’re meant to be. His hands work at his belt, a soft hiss escaping when he presses his palm down the front of his pants. His head tilts back, displaying his thick neck, the rising pinkness across his pale throat, and he breathes a laugh. “Now, Princess- Wait!” You jump at the suddenness of Eddie pulling his hand from his pants only to clasp them at his waist as he half-jogs towards the door. “Just a second. Don’t move!” 

Eddie disappears through the door, mumbling to himself. His words are faint but it’s clear enough that he is looking for something. You close your eyes, focusing on his voice, however fuzzy. You never thought you could have something like this. Someone like Eddie. Someone safe. So safe that you can abandon yourself to fulfilling a silly fantasy thought up under the covers of your bed. 

Something catches your hair and you open your eyes to find him standing over you again. The tip of his tongue curls over his top lip as he places the plastic silver tiara just so on your head. When it’s as he wants it, his teeth show with his smile. “Perfect,” he says, pressing two fingers to your chin and turning your head each way. “My Princess, mm? I’m going to show you what it is to be mine.”

Eddie reaches into his pants to pull himself free. His hand drags over the shaft, quick and dirty, just for a moment’s relief if the clench of his jaw the second he stops is any indicator. 

You think you know what to do now, tipping your chin, opening your mouth, ready to take him. Only he angles his head away from your tongue. You peer up at him in confusion, watch the way his excitement plays out on his face. “C’mere, Princess.” 

Cupping your cheek with his spare hand, he guides you to the base of his cock, where he is softest. Your lips graze the fuzzy skin of his balls and Eddie makes a noise that has you squirming for the lightest touch between your legs. You kiss delicately, blinking up at him, watching his thumb rub over the head of his cock, catching wetness to ease the slow movement of his hand. He taps his fingers on your cheek gently. “Open up. Want your tongue.”

Your toes curl. You want to taste him here, aching at the smell of him; like his neck at the end of the day in Summer, his sweat and musk, fading body wash. You want to make Eddie feel good so badly, you think you might do whatever he asks as long as he looks at you the way he is now. 

You reach for him, palm settling on his knee where denim meets exposed skin. Opening your mouth, you lick quickly at the seam of his balls, taste salt on soft skin. He groans, fingers flexing around your jaw. “That’s it,” he encourages. “Fuck yes,” Eddie bites out when you lick broad and wet up to the base of his cock, thinking of his wide tongue drawing upwards from your pussy to your clit. “Fuck, yes.” 

He draws you back, smiling down at you. It makes your face burn, but you struggle between looking him in the eyes and staring at his cock. His balls are pink and wet from your attention, his hand moves steadily over his length, drawing folds of skin over his thick head and back.

“Want you to suck on them a little,” he tells you. The pause he leaves gives a moment for you to squeeze at his knee, as if presenting your open mouth wouldn’t be enough to show your agreement. He drags the weight of his balls over your chin to your wet tongue, listing off curses when your lips close just enough to suck gently. Eddie’s hand moves faster over his length, the curve of his fingers brushing your forehead with each tug.

Eddie’s groans are all that matter now. His sack is heavy, falling past your lips the wider you open your mouth. “So fuckin’ full cause of you,” Eddie bites. You hum, closing your eyes, his hips stutter. First towards the warmth of your mouth and then away entirely, replacing his sack with the head of his cock tapping against your tongue.

Eddie gasps when you lap at his leaking tip. “Can I-” He pauses, rephrases, puts on the right tone. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, Princess.” 

He watches you carefully, gives you time to tell him no. You squeeze his knee once more, gaze moving from his dark eyes to his cock. You press a quick kiss to the swollen head, a darker pink than the rest of him where it peeks through folds of skin, then let him press your head back against the mattress. 

Eddie’s cock glides smoothly over your tongue to the top of your throat. “Fuck,” he breathes, rolling his hips. “M’starting to think this is what you wanted the whole time.” He eases further, just past the entrance of your throat. It’s easier, like this. You are more open to him with your head tilted back this way. He holds himself in the warmth of your mouth, watching you blinking back tears to try and keep him clear in your gaze. Finally your throat protests, and Eddie draws back till you can suck at his head, the exposed length of his cock shining with your spit. You gaze at him, wanting him to be proud of you for taking him deeper than you have before. He makes a soft encouraging noise, but Eddie like this won’t give you the validation you want so easily. “Teased me for so long. I think I deserve to take what I want, now.”

Eddie thrusts slowly at first, easing you in despite his words. The hand that was on your cheek now stroking at your heated forehead. 

You like it like this. 

You liked having him in your mouth the first time, and every time after that. Like watching him shake, hearing him groan and whine, and knowing that you’re the one making him like that. You like focusing on him; lick here, nip there, let him feel you moan around him. Now, you don’t even have to think about how best to please him. You can focus on your breathing, taking air in through your nose when he pulls back enough. And on Eddie and how he looks as he takes his pleasure from you. 

Eddie’s so beautiful. His dark hair frizzes around his face, eyes crinkling at the sides when he closes them and groans into the air. His neck is pink, a pretty blush crawling up to his cheeks as his thrusts speed up. “We’re gonna do this all the time, Princess, you hear me?” He grits, fingers curling into the sheets at the side of your head. You moan in answer, pleased when it makes his cock twitch in your mouth, his tip dipping deep enough past the entrance of your throat that you can’t blink away the wetness that springs to your eyes. “You’re gonna be in my bed all the time, maybe I’ll tie you up, mm?” He presses deep again, then holds steady. When the tears collected at the corners of your eyes start to fall, he wipes them away before they can reach the apples of your cheeks. “Keep you here, just for me. Don’t need to see or talk to anyone else ever again.”

If your head weren’t fuzzy, you’d start questioning why that makes you ache. Eddie withdraws his cock from the top of your throat and you only take a second to gasp in the air you need before following him, reaching up to touch the inches of his cock your mouth still can’t quite cover. Eddie laughs through a moan at the feeling of you jerking his cock into your mouth, licking wet at the end of him. “You want that, huh? Hey-” He drags you away from his cock, leaving you with wet, pleading eyes looking up at him. “You want that?” Your mouth opens, then closes. Your hips roll, seeking friction you can’t get while kneeling like this. Eddie’s eyes flick down, lips turning up at the sight. “Get on the bed for me, mm?”

Eddie reaches a hand out to help you sit up on his mattress. Then he pulls his shirt off over the back of his head, exposing all the soft pale skin and dark ink of his torso. You pull your dress up too, knocking your tiara in the process. When the dress is off entirely, Eddie’s there in an instant to fix it for you, his fingers caressing your cheek when he’s done. “Hey, uh. Am I doing alright? Is this the sort of thing you imagined?”

“This is better,” you tell him earnestly, loving how pleased he looks. You’re learning that this, the pleasure gained from praise, is something you and Eddie share. You love it when Eddie calls you good, or smart, or sweet. When he tells you that you’re good at something he’s teaching you. In turn, Eddie likes it when you tell him how good he makes you feel, that he’s doing everything right, that he’s looking after you exactly how you want it. 

He kisses you, and it’s softer this time until he bites gently at your bottom lip as he’s pulling away. “C’mon and lie down, Princess,” he says, guiding you to lay down. You press your legs together, knees bent and feet flat to the mattress as Eddie climbs up after you. His hands stroke up and down your thighs, making you giggle softly as he passes ticklish spots. It relaxes you enough to let him guide your legs open and back, allowing him closer. Eddie tilts his head, thumbing the little blue bow at the waistband of your panties. “You really want me to tie you up?” 

Without thinking, you glance quickly at the handcuffs hanging from his door. You feel the beat of your heart against your chest, wondering if you’re ready for that, knowing really that you’re not. Eddie’s hand cups your cheek, directing your gaze back to him. He kisses your knee. “Not tonight, Princess.” He leans in, whispers. “And only ever if you really want, okay?”

“I know, Eddie,” you answer. And you do. You know that as much as Eddie is teaching you, seemingly leading you along to each new experience, in truth he’s making sure you set the pace. 

“Take this off for me,” he says, pulling at the strap of your bra. You reach underneath your back to unhook it, shimmying it off your arms and letting it drop to his floor. Once you’re settled, he takes both your hands in his, pulling them up over your head. You can’t help but giggle, feeling both nervous and giddy. “Hold onto the headboard?” You follow the instruction, wrapping your fingers around one of the wooden slats. Stretched like this, chest presented to him, you feel open and exposed, your nipples tightening from the cold air and from Eddie’s attention. “Don’t let go, mm?”

He leans down, kissing from the base of your neck down the skin between your breasts, his hair dragging behind him, tickling the sensitive skin. He leaves a wet mark on the curve of your left breast, the sting of his teeth quickly soothed by his tongue. When he takes the tight bud of your nipple between his lips, your whole body tenses. It’s a test of your submission, if you can last with only your memory of what it feels like to tangle your fingers in his hair. If you can bear not to tug at it when he flicks his tongue like that. 

Your hands tighten around the wood, hips tilting to find his cock where he tucked it back in his boxers, still hard and throbbing between your legs. The friction, however light, against where you have been waiting for him all evening, is too good to give up, and you keep searching for his hardness to rub against. 

Eddie releases your breasts with a grin. “You want it bad, huh, Princess?”

You whine, melting when he presses his hips forward to give you more delicious friction along your pussy. He huffs a laugh, sitting up and quickly reaching out for the pack of Trojans on his bedside. You watch him kneel between your legs, the way he fists his cock while he tears at the foil square with his teeth, his desperation to roll the condom over his length. Eddie shuffles forward on his knees and presses his wide hands to the back of your thighs. He gently guides your legs back, hitching your hips up for better access to your pussy, wet and swollen under his gaze.

“Wanted this for so long, Princess,” he says. “You’ve been waiting too, hmm?”

“Yes, Eddie. Been waiting so long.” You nearly cry from relief when his cock latches at your entrance, then from despair when he stills instead of filling you. The headboard creaks from your squirming. “Please,” you whisper, sounding pathetic in a way that would embarrass you if you weren’t aching from the emptiness.

Eddie stretches you perfectly as he presses inside your slick cunt. The tease of pain feels good now that your body recognises what it means, where Eddie filling you up leads. “Good?” He asks, once he’s deep enough inside that the curls of hair above his cock are teasing your clit. 

You mean to answer properly, but the intention is overtaken by the need for him to move. Waiting for him, your fingers tighten around the wood so much you swear there will be marks from your nails. “Eddie.” It comes out whinier than you intended, but he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Eddie,” he mimics breathily, his teeth showing as the heat of pleasant humiliation crawls up your spine. He doesn’t keep you waiting any longer, snapping his hips to draw back and press deep again through your clenching cunt.

You’ve been under him every time, but like this you feel helpless. Hands voluntarily useless, body tilted up and legs opened by his hands, your body presented to him and positioned perfectly for him to set the pace. It feels right for this - you know now what the romance novels you hide under your bed mean when the heroine is taken. 

Your toes curl when Eddie’s hips roll just right, the heavy head of his cock hitting the end of you. When he reaches between you to press a thumb to your clit and rub in tight circles, your body tilts, hips trying to chase the pleasure, only for Eddie to press you back down to where he wants you.

“I like it,” you answer. “I like it, Eddie.”

“You like it, like this, hm?” Eddie asks. You blink at him slowly, wondering if it’s your boyfriend or Eddie the Banished asking. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe it, hair shaking. “Knew you would. Pretty Princess just needed to be fucked right, mm?” You shudder, tightening around his cock enough that he gasps, “fuckfuckfuck. S’good. It’s so good, honey.”

You breathe a laugh. “Princess, to you.”

“My apologies,” he says, snapping his hips to land heavy against the spot at the back of your pussy. You gasp, legs kicking out against his grip involuntarily only for him to tighten his grip and push them back to where he wants them. You can hear how wet you are, the sound of him moving inside you as loud as the bed springs, as loud as your moans. “Mine now, aren’t you, Princess?” 

You nod easily. “Yes.”

“Gonna give me everything I want from now on, aren’t you?” 

“Yes. Yes-”

“Made it so easy for me. Should have just done this in the beginning, just taken you for myself.”

“Yes. Yes, Eddie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tilting back as his hips speed up. “Fuck, I can’t- Can’t get enough of that.” When he looks back to you, the detached, mocking look is gone. He’s all intensity and warmth, your Eddie again. Your whole body tightens. “Tells me everything I need to know when you say my name like that.” He gives you a mean thrust, tongue peeking out as he watches where you’re connected, the slick coating his cock, before his gaze returns to your pleasured, sweaty face. “You’re so fucking good, you know that? So fucking good, the way you talk to me. Telling me what you want. Not gonna hide anything like that from me again, are you?”

“Nuh,” you manage, legs twitching. “Eddie.” 

”Again,” he gasps. “Please. My sweet girl-”

“Eddie. Eddie-”

Maybe you keep chanting his name, maybe you cry it out, maybe you stop altogether to scream out instead. You don’t know. You just know he’s all you’re thinking of as the pleasure crests, spreading out from the back of your cunt through your body until it’s intense enough you think you might cry. Then it fades to the gentle delight of Eddie still moving inside you, the warmth and weight of his cock when he buries himself deep. You hear him groan, feel the potential for bruises blooming where his fingers dig into your thighs. Then it’s his weight easing down on top of you, the ache in your shoulders and your legs as you let them relax before wrapping yourself around him.

You finally get your hands in his hair. The roots are damp from sweat, his curls tangled in knots. Eddie’s face is pressed so fully to the space between your breasts that you’re not convinced he can be breathing. He mumbles something that’s lost to your ears, then tilts his head up till you can see his face, and his goofy smile. Your heart aches even as you giggle. Then he’s crawling up your body to kiss you, his mouth warm and tasting like the sweat from his upper lip. 

“I’m gonna pull out now but I want it known that it’ll take amazing strength of will on my part.” 

He does so, disappearing from the bed for less than five seconds to throw out the condom before flopping next to you again and opening his arms to let you clamber into his hold again, you try to fight the rising worries by pressing your face into his neck. He hisses at the scrape of the plastic tiara under his chin, taking it off himself before returning to stroke at your temple with his fingers.  “How do you feel, sweet girl?”

It takes you a minute to answer, sorting through all the complicated feelings that emerged the second Eddie wasn’t inside you anymore. “Good,” you murmur. Then, “weird.” 

You hate how fast it all happens so soon after something so special. You feel overwhelmed and tired, like you want to scrub yourself raw under hot water, like you want to curl up in Eddie’s arms and smell like him forever. You feel like you don’t want to ever be touched again, but the thought that Eddie won’t makes your heart sore. You wish you were normal. You wish you didn’t have weird fantasies. You wish you didn’t feel guilty about what you want. 

Eddie holds you tight against him, and you let yourself feel the comfort of that. Eddie doesn’t think you’re weird, or gross, or immoral. Eddie won’t ever leave you alone to cry and scratch at your crawling skin. 

He presses his lips to your forehead, mumbles against your skin. “Gonna let me look after you?”

He keeps you with him while he runs a bath. You’re wrapped in a towel while he runs around naked, giving you mock coquettish looks over his shoulder every now and then until he gets a giggle from you. As steam starts to rise from the tub, he searches through the cabinet under the sink before emerging with a bottle filled with suspiciously bright orange liquid. “We don’t have bubble bath but, uh, this is six-in-one.” 

You try sitting in the water together, wrapped up in him, but the pins and needles come too fast, eight limbs not quite fitting as they should. You end up facing him, legs tucked up to your chest, watching the water drip from dark ends of his hair. 

“Not as romantic as I’d hoped,” he says.

“It’s okay. I like looking at you.”

His dimples show. Sweetest boy on Earth. He splashes at you a little, waiting for you to smile before talking. “Feeling better?” 

“Much,” you answer honestly. Somewhere between giggling at Eddie rushing to his bedroom to fetch towels for you both, a hair tie for you, with his hands covering the crack of his ass while leaving his dick uncovered and him quietly insisting on taking the side of the tub with the tap at his back, the grey cloud hanging over you faded. “Cause of you,” you say, splashing him back. 

Eddie smiles, resting his face against his knee. “Is there anything I can do, you know, to make it better, like, before it happens?” He reaches for your hand in the water. “Cause it hasn’t, in a while. I know that this was, like, different, but if I did something-”

“No,” you interrupt. “It wasn’t you.” Eddie lets that sit for a while, waiting for you to continue. “When it’s just me and you, it’s like-” You swallow. “Sometimes I feel like I’m being really, actually myself for the first time in my whole life.” Eddie’s eyes are so soft, looking at you now. “And I know that you won’t ever judge me for…my fantasies, or whatever. But then it’s like, it’s almost like- Like without even wanting to, I imagine what other people would say, if they knew the stuff I told you. If they saw how I am, when it’s just us. And then I just feel like, even though they’re not there, it’s ruined it.”

Eddie squeezes your hand, sighs with his whole body. “That sounds exhausting.”

Tears prick in your eyes even as you laugh without real mirth. “It is.”

“Well, you know this stuff really is always going to be just me and you. Right?” 

“I know, Eddie.”

“I wish I could fix it for you, sweet thing.”

You close your eyes tight, trying to force back the tears. You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking, me too. Instead, you sigh, remind yourself that however hard it is now, you’re sure it used to be worse. Before you had Eddie and his humour, his touch, his kindness. “You make it better, Eddie. I promise.”

He’s perfectly gentle with you the rest of the evening, curling back up with you on the couch when you’re dry to restart Theatre of Blood. You let yourself sink into his chest, playing with his rings. You are just about engrossed in the story again, watching with sick fascination as the first critic is stabbed like Julius Caesar. Then, a thought suddenly occurs.

“Did…did you say the soap was six-in-one?”

“Sure did,” Eddie answers. “Face, body, hair, laundry, pets and dishes.”

“That’s why it smells like the terrier next door.”

Eddie hums, lifts your hand to his face and sniffs. “You mean that’s why we smell like the terrier next door.”

[thesamoanqueen]

Onlyfans

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut.

A/N: this one-shot showed up in my mind because of John Cena and me thinking impossible possibilities.

He usually bring it with him all the time, but at home he paid no attention. He had left it on the table to go and do something when the first notification had arrived. Y/N hadn't even looked up from her laptop, too busy with the program sent from Stamford the previous evening and which she was reviewing as always before sending it back to the office. Two minutes had passed and another notification had arrived. Roman hadn't shown up then either, but when the third had been followed by a fourth, Y/N had held out her hand with a sigh. She didn't want to pry, she didn't even want to know, she justs cared about making that sound stop to work in peace and let Roman know of whoever had that urgency to talk to him.

What had appeared on the screen, however, had made her put the laptop aside without thinking twice, pushing her to get up and find out what the hell was that stuff.

She couldn't believe her eyes, it was crazy.

When she found him, he was busy with a box full of old fitness equipments, smile ready as soon as she came into his sight.

- Hey gorgeous – he greeted her and Y/N stopped to look at him, her perfect handsome man.

- Is there something you want to tell me? – she asked, holding back to give him a chance.

Roman froze completely, his gaze serious, back straight.

- whats up? – she heard him ask, pretending he didn’t know or maybe not knowing for real, Y/N at that point was not sure anymore.

- I don't know, should I?! – she immediately echoed him, refusing to prolong that game to place his phone in front of him, the message he had received still open.

Leaving aside what were their habits as a couple, habits that had never displeased either of them as far as she knew, they had established from the first moment they would discuss everything, to be open-minded and fair with their feelings. They had been on a verge of a breakup because of an unspoken nonsense, they had learned from the past and since that moment there had been nothing they hadn't shared, bad moods, doubts, problems, fears. She trusted him, she wasn't obsessed with knowing what, where or who he was with, not even knowing what revolved around him and was proposed to him before, it had never even crossed her mind. She had chosen a man, a good real man, one who wanted a family, with no fear about serious relationship and without warning now she found out an Onlyfans notification on his phone? At home? While she was there working?!

- I didn't mean to watch, there could be anything in there, whatever, but here Ro? For real? and honestly If you have a reason or not, I thought we were better than this- she said, unable to hold back any longer and immediately saw his expression change, an amused smile replacing his worried expression.

- Babygirl, slow down. We got no problem, there's nothing in there I want, trust me. I don't care about that stuff, its shit, I’d never do it when I’ve you – he winked, trying to pull her into a hug, but more he laughed more she tensed.

- ‘kay then what?!

- You know, John did it, an account… boys at work were joking, saying that I should make one too. Locker room chatter, bullshit, sometimes they still get me involved.

Surprised, she looked at him speechless, turmoil quickly slipping away, while his information created a strangely valid picture in her mind about possibilities.

John was a funny dude, strange at times and that stunt had actually made the news. She had seen some clips online, nothing R-rated as one might imagine, but she hadn't connected the two things. And she had never even thought that someone might have thought of doing it, even though she knew of Roman's fame among the fans, rumors, fantasies and the whole package on the most unlikely platforms. In some way it was her job to know what people thought about wwe’s top guy and she played with it to for promotion.

- A real onlyfans – she repeated flatly, staring at him and he gave her one of his billion dollar smiles.

- I'm quite successful, it might work – he joked and she reflexively batted her eyelashes, unable to control herself because yes, he was damn right.

People went absolutely crazy for a few well planted cameras shots, a couple of hits not so family friendly in his ring promos and that salt and pepper in his beard, a video or an entire onlyfans account would not have been simply successful, would have unleashed the apocalypse into the wrestling community. During the production phase, behind the scenes, she too had relied on certain shots, specific set-ups, because she knew they would work. There were things that she too was obsessed with despite having him as her in real life partner. If Roman would have really decided to do it, something direct, focused, if he didn't hold back…

The thought made her turn around, going back without another word.

-Y/N – Roman called her, trying to hold her, but she didn't let him do it, quickly marching towards the front door closet where she kept her purse always ready.

She knew Roman had followed her, sensing heavy footsteps behind her as she walked through the house, but when she finally started to reach for what she needed, his hand tightened around her wrist, physically stopping her from doing anything. He gave her a deadly serious look, his gaze dark as she broke free.

- Y/N it was a bad joke, ain’t gonna happen, don't take it that far – he reasoned, standing there as if no one could move him, searching her eyes.

Those brown eyes that would have made anyone's knees tremble, that had made her tremble too an infinite number of times and for the most absurd reasons, at the right times and not, everywhere, always, from the first moment, without exceptions and that now she saw slowly widen, confused, as she handed him what she had taken out of her jacquemus.

-Here – she offered, her personal credit card ready.

Roman stared at it stunned and Y/N knew she had caught him off guard, because that card never left her purse if he was around, he didn't like when it happened even though she was proudly independent he liked to play the role of her provider. With a deep breath, seeing him froze, she decided to take out the second one, adding it to the first and moving closer to slip them into his pocket.

- Let’s say you can have both, but the show is exclusive – she specified, as if they were really in a negotiation and at that last hint she felt him suddenly explode into laughter.

He throw his head back, perfect teeth showing, eyes crinkling, making every inch of his chiseled face smile.

- Someone woke up possessive – he pinched her when he was finally able to speak again and Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, letting him have that little win.

He didn’t like if someone was too close to her, if someone stared in a way or another, when they hadn't yet been in an official relationship Y/N had witnessed scenes of pure testosterone that would have made anyone run and even today he showed no signs of loosening his grip. She had found the notification of a site notoriously inclined towards certain ratings, messages with it, she hadn't worked entirely on her imagination, but were clearly details his ego ignored, too happy to have caught her.

-If your intention is to keep laughing, I'll take them back – she stopped him, stretching out her hand again to retrieve them, but as soon as she took them off, Roman grabbed her wrist.

- For you the show is free, just ask ma'am

His voice was velvetly soft, as was the touch of his thumb stroking her caramel skin. With eyes fixed on hers, she couldn't hold back a smile, seeing Roman return it immediately when he pushed her against the door.

- Then show me sir – she whispered and he twisted his head, making her giggle before lifting her up.

With legs wrapped around his hips, he carried her to the couch to place her between cushions like a precious thing, a rebellious lock hanging out of the bun. He stood there waiting, hands placed next to her, but deliberately not where he should, his whole body close, but not close enough and for a moment Y/N did nothing but admire him.

He was a charming man, the kind of man who captured attention even without anything special or fancy, he made her hands itch and her stomach flutter like the first time she had touched him and she had no longer been able to let him go. It wasn't just the appearance, but rather his attitude, his attentions, they were a drug, they were addictive and the idea of having them all to herself, having him when out there people would do anything to have a crumb of what she had, it made her feel special, in charge.

-You're playing a dangerous game – he warned her, eyes hovering over her full lips.

-Im pretty sure I can handle it – she replied, her breathing slowing as she saw him bend more.

-I know exactly what you can handle babygirl – he touched her with his nose, with that lock and Y/N felt the taste of him on her, even if Roman had kept himself at a sufficient distance not to kiss her.

From the couch, Y/N watched as he straightened up and grabbed the hem of his tank to pull it up. Her eyes went hopelessly down his body, looking in religious silence at every inch of his torso, as he undressed with unnatural calm. She watched the abs pop out even without oil to accentuate them, broad pecs, dark tattoo that stood out against tanned skin, those lines that she drew with her fingers whenever she could. And then the arms, bent to pass the shirt beyond his neck to which she used to cling, those arms that she scratched as if her very life depended on them, capable of hurting and carrying her around effortlessly, shaped by years of practice and dedication. Her pulse racing, she saw him turn to put away his shirt, showing her his broad back, his sculpted shoulders as he rolled them back to face her and let his hair down. She watched Roman run his long fingers through the messy locks, trying to fix them during that impromptu striptease in the living room, in broad daylight and anything could have happened, someone even broke into the house and Y/N would not have flinched, focused as she was on him.

He was slow, unnerving. What she would do quickly, throwing everything away, he did in slow motion, to push her desire, make her savor everything, drive her completly crazy. Every gesture seemed to require effort, every action was like a ritual, a video wouldn't have done him justice, he was directing a movie and she was the spectator unable to distract herself while his fingers loosened the knot of his shorts to make them hang on the hips. Enraptured, she followed his usually hidden v, focusing on the portion of skin he was revealing and that left no doubt about what was down there. Concentrated, she clenched her legs without hiding, heartbeat racing as he fill the space between them, a dangerous intense shadow on his eyes that made Y/N hold her breath.

- Why you so silent now sweetheart? – he asked, stopping a step away from her, looking down and Y/N raised her head, body tingling as she felt him tower above her.

-Im ejoying it… no words needed – she breathed innocently, reaching out a hand tentatively and Roman bent over once again following the wandering of fingers playing with his lace, tongue running on his lips.

- Hmm no, I think we need a reaction… feedbacks you know, for that onlyfans stuff

His voice, breathing caused another series of shocks through her, the desire to crash her mouth against him, suffocate in one of their kisses, feel his big hands ravaging her now almost unbearable. Roman locked her wrist once more, his grip hard enough to make Y/N throb where she was probably already a mess, preventing her from exploring more than she should, eyes going back into hers, digging, guiding her where he wanted, only where he let them.

-Its good – she admitted without rebelling, unable to concentrate on anything than those two brown pools that seemed to swallow her.

- Just that? – he asked, pinching her face with his hair and Y/N tilted her head, intercepting the trajectory of his lips with greed.

-More than good – she mewed, leaning forward and feeling him guide her to his erection, never breaking eye contact, avid more than ever on having her undivided attention.

- Not enough for me

Under her fingers, Y/N felt his boner awake, hard and she risked something more, a more intense touch, hoping to convince Roman to let her do something, but it lasted just a moment and he pushed her away, standing up straight again to do it himself. Y/N knew what to expect, she knew what Roman was hiding, and yet when he lowered his pants enough to release his erection and took it into his hand, Y/N couldn't hold back a gasp to the mere sigh of his delicious flesh. She saw him so proud, spit obscenely and his smile quickly turn into an arrogant grin enjoying his attentions in front of her who was now struggling to stay still.

Was the kind of show she was sure many people would sell their souls along with their houses for and that even her, despite knowing Roman's abilities, couldn't say was immune. She wasn't immune at all honestly and when he curled his mouth, carried away by the increasing euphoria, eyes still fixed on her, letting go an excited growl, Y/N jumped on her knees.

-Gawd com’here– she moaned sulkily before crashing her lips on him and Roman laughed at her kissing, his hand finally leaving his now tense erection to keep himself balanced.

-That's a feedback – he approved, watching her quickly undress beneath him.

And Y/N might have replied but her body was begging her to put an end to that game, get some relief and before Roman could decide otherwise just for playing around, she pulled him better on top, wedging his brawny body between her thighs. With one hand on his dark locks and the other feeling his cock, she slowly bit his lip asking with pleading eyes and he pushed himself into her palm, tongue ready to invade her mouth. She moaned against him, letting him move his hips, enveloped in the heat of him, in that tantalizing smell of his skin, lost in the exquisite taste of his mouth, until she heard Roman growl and only then she guided him where wanted. None had touched her, neither him nor herself and yet she felt him slip between her juicy folds with ease, in a feral curse that made her cry and pushed him to bite her neck. Holding her hip he enstablished a pace to fuck her opposite of his striptease, messy, rough, domineering, every thrust crushed her down, nailing her mercilessly and making her sweatin agony.

Sometimes she felt like she was a toy in his hands, but she liked that kind of treatment, more when they had already wasted enough time with other games and the thought of someone else wanting that attention was still in the back of her head. She ran her nails down his forearms, marking him, holding on with ragged breath, gasping with mouth open, as he grunted into the crook of her neck, sinking into her dripping pussy in a concert of obscene sounds. And in the throes of her ecstacy, Y/N made her hands roam over his massive back, over his strong neck, even over his ass contracted in the effort to pound her wildly.

She felt a well known fire building suddenly in the bottom of her belly, uncontrollably, like a wave of pure bliss when Roman pushed himself deeper, lifting without mercy her thigh over his shoulder to get a better angle, his balls slapping against her soft skin and she squirmed crying in pleasure. His grip became more possessive, almost to prevent her from run, even though she was now just a weeping mess, folds pulsing and gripping around his dick, heat growing for what was now a marvelous attack until the delirium reached her head.

- R-Roo… ple-aase…

- Ssh come for me… let it go, you wanted it cmon good girl -

One stroke and another, on that sweet lovely spot, his skin rubbing against her hot clit and Y/N closed her eyes, curling beneath him, her mind white, blank and ì mouth open without a sound to leave her soul. She felt him leave a sweaty kiss on her cheek, continue tenaciously to prolong her sensation and also lift her other leg, aiming it in a shameful, vulgar position to conquer his climax now. Stunned by her orgasm, she watched him with passionate eyes, his expression focused, body tense and furious in the last effort and Y/N placed her forehead against his, holding him in place, tightening with a sob around his cock, folds trembling. With all his weight pinning her down, he willingly went for a couple of thrusts, deep, rough, his breathing more and more heavy until it was enough for him too and Y/N pulled him against her neck, feeling every muscle of his thick body tense and his cock twitching until it fills her up.

As always, he got stuck inside her, refusing to come out until he stopped jerking, hands gripping her soft hips tenaciously to keep her in place and only when nothing was left anymore, he freed her, collapsing though against the couch headboard to pull her against him in a sweaty hug, while they caught both their breath. They probably should have rushed to take a shower, but Y/N wasn't in a hurry and he didn't seem to be either, leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder.

- I was thinking… - she began, sore but with her fingers tracing his arm anyway.

- Gimme ten minutes and we'll do another live

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[chronicdisasterwrites]

i’d keep you company in the dark

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre + warnings: - ANGST but FLUFFY ending!! jjk movie spoilers!! happens after the ending of jjk-0, death, sad gojo, kisses.

word count: 1,672

authors note: this was a request by my lovely @daisy-the-quake <3 it's a song-fic, inspired by the song "peaches” by grandson x k.flay

enjoy <3

Your eyes shoot open as you lie still and unmoving. The blinking red light of the clock on your bedside table indicates midnight. Yet another nightmare, about the same thing. It starts with you standing face-to-face with Suguru. His face twisted with the sneer he had on when he came to the school to announce his plan; "The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons". You try to move but you can’t. You try to talk to him, try to convince him to listen to reason, but nothing comes out. He laughs, then it shifts and his laughing transitions into an irksome drone coming out of his ajar mouth. It turns into an incessant buzzing growing exponentially until it’s so loud you can’t see, think, or feel anything. And then the noise stops completely and you’re standing in the sky looking down at Satoru standing in an arena, alone, with a horde of shadows surrounding him. They all make their way toward him like ants capturing a crystal of sugar. You don't do anything. You don’t move or scream or fight. You feel like you don't even exist. Just when the shadows are about to swallow him whole does he look up at you, with hollow eyes and no will to survive.

The hammering of raindrops against your windows could’ve also been a factor, but the sweat on your face and the drumming of your heart indicate otherwise. Taking a few deep breaths you try to normalize your heartbeat. It was exhausting, having the same nightmare over and over again. Ever since Suguru died, all your dreams seemed to be about the same thing. Then you imagine, how Satoru must be feeling. You fall back into reality and realize Satoru’s side of the bed was abandoned. It had been a few days since Suguru died, and since then Satoru had been acting strangely. You never asked him straight up if he was okay, because you know he wasn’t. Of course, he wasn’t. So you tried to show him you were there if he wanted to talk, but he always laughed it off and changed the subject without showing a moment’s weakness. He was acting like nothing happened and life was just fine and dandy. The dream you had fills your mind with thoughts of Satoru losing his mind to the grief of losing his best friend and trudging down a path from which he could never return. You couldn't help him in your dream. Instead, you just stood there watching him get consumed by his demons. You bolt out of bed to look for him. He wasn’t in the apartment you both shared, so you made a guess and decided to trust your gut. You take your keys, wear a raincoat, take an umbrella, shove your phone in your pocket, and make your way to Jujutsu Tech.

Parking your motorcycle in front of the steps of the school you see him sitting on the steps, head downturned and raindrops ricocheting off his Infinity. Once you start climbing the steps, does he lift his head to give you a small smile, tired and sullen, not at all like his genuine smile. 

You sigh and sit next to him, shoulders touching and legs brushing. Your face was half-covered by the hood of the raincoat but some raindrops still fell on your nose and exposed hands. Hearing the familiar buzz of Satoru’s Infinity, you look up and watch the raindrops slide down around you, making you feel like you were encased in a snow globe. The pattering of raindrops sounded muted and you felt safe and protected from the terrors of the world. So, this is how Satoru feels? 

“What brings you here?”

You remove your hood and look into his dull eyes. Shrugging, you reply with a tender voice, “I couldn’t find you so I figured you’d be here.” 

Satoru huffs, looking away and linking his hands together over his knees, “I’m fine before you ask.”

Gojo Satoru was a complex human being. Sometimes people tend to forget he is a human being, thanks to his charisma, strength, and holier-than-thou attitude. But that’s all he was; a human being, blessed burdened with the strength of a God. The ever-present smile on his dazzling face makes you forget that he’s not a shiny person. But when his eyes dim and his smile falls in the dark of the night when a million eyes aren’t on him you realize just how bruised and battered he is. 

You release a tired breath. He thinks he’s all alone in this world. He thinks no one can ever help him with anything because no one is as strong as him. The world always revolved around him, his strength, his power, his name. No one could ever equal him, so he believes it’s only fair for him to carry his burdens and sorrows on his own.

“Y’know Satoru…” He glances at you and quirks a thin, silver eyebrow. You stare ahead, picking at the skin around your nails. 

“You’re not alone. As much as you want to believe you are, you aren’t. So, if you aren’t gonna let me in, that’s fine. Just- please let yourself feel without putting on a front.”

You hear him exhale and watch him hang his head down from your peripheral vision. 

“What’s the point?” He mutters under his breath. The only reason you could hear him at all was because his Infinity dulled the noise in the outside world. 

This time you stare at his downturned head and you can’t stop yourself from speaking, “What’s the point? The point is that you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to hurt alone. I want you to share your pain with me! Yeah sure, you can get through this alone. You can shove it under the rug, but just this once, don’t be the strongest. Just let me hurt with you, let’s get through this together. Please, Satoru.”

He lifts his head and stares you straight in your eyes. You know how much he’s hurting. His world turned upside down and everything changed. He had to watch his friend plummet into the darkness and he had to be the one to deliver the final blow. His heart is shattered and you’re scared there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. The only thing you can do is be by his side and try to pick up his broken pieces.   

He exhales a shaky breath as his eyes glisten like a dewdrop on a blade of grass, “Can we get through this?” 

You reach out your hand and move a couple of strands of his hair from his vision. You let your hand lie against his warm cheek and he lets his eyes shut, “I know everything went to shit. But it’s not permanent, Satoru. I don’t know if things will get better, but we can only hope, right?”

He takes your hand in his own and runs his thumb over your knuckles.

“Yeah. We can only hope.”

He sighs and stares at your hand, “I miss him.”

“I know…”

You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. It’s dark, except for a few streetlights. You think he’d enjoy a piece of cake or something sweet right about now. You open your mouth to ask him when he beats you to it, “Things won’t be the same.”

Your mouth hangs open and you wait as he continues speaking, “It might get better, it might get worse. Honestly? It doesn’t matter. We can’t really afford to be optimistic with a life like ours.” He lets out a humorless laugh. Looking at you, he gives you a gentle smile and leans forward to kiss your forehead. He lingers there for a quiet moment as the rain serenades you both.

“We’ll get through this.” 

You love him so much. Looking at his beautiful, weary face, you smile and leave a chaste kiss on his lips. Stealing another kiss, he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, “I love you, y’know that?” 

Smiling, you stand and give him your hand, “Yeah, I love you too.”

He holds your hand and stops you on your way down the stairs, “Hey…I'm sorry for being selfish. I know you’re hurting too. I don’t want you to think I don't notice that.”

Turning back to look at him, you caress his knuckles with your thumb, “It's okay, Satoru-”

“No, it's not.” He stands on the upper step, looking down at you with tender eyes, "D'you have another nightmare? Is that why you woke up?" He traces the dark circles under your eyes and keeps his thumb on the apple of your cheek.

You sigh and close your eyes momentarily, "Yeah..."

"You wanna talk about it?"

Your free fingers wrap around his slender wrist as you look up at his glittering, blue eyes. "Maybe later." He nods.

You both walk down the steps, your hand warm in his. By now the rain had slowed down to a soft patter. He notices the umbrella tied on the backseat of your motorcycle and quirks an eyebrow, “Why’d you bring this?”

You offer a sheepish smile and take out your keys from your pocket, “I- uh, figured you might need it. I thought you’d deactivate your Infinity and sit in the rain or something… So y’know I didn’t want you to waste all your energy covering us both from the rain but I guess that’s exactly what you did so it was pretty usele-”

Your rambling was immediately shut down by the press of his lips against yours. You feel him smile into the kiss and your heart feels so warm. I love him so much. Hugging you, he rests his chin on your head, “Thank you.” 

You think it’s ironic how you’re shivering from the cold yet feeling so incredibly warm at the same time. He chuckles and unties the umbrella taking a seat on the backseat of your bike, “Let’s go home, yeah?”  

a/n: well, after chapter 236 this sure is a knife to the heart.

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