#while i think sobriety looks good on me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ventismacchiato · 1 month ago

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17 stuck with you — jealousy jealousy !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

content warning: oblivious idiots

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT: YOUR POINT OF VIEW

When you and the others returned from the island, you walked into the dorms to find everyone either drunk or in the process of getting there. When Yae asked what everyone wanted for catering, the unanimous answer was alcohol—until Jean reminded them they’d need food too.

You’d had a drink or two and were playing a halfhearted game of cards on the floor with Venti and Aether. Nobody seemed interested in going to bed. Getting drunk was the perfect way to forget the stress of the show.

Scara sat near the door, absentmindedly pulling out blocks in the game of Jenga Fischl had set up beside him. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm…for now.

Then Mona stood up from where she’d been teaching Yoimiya how to make a drink and plopped down next to Scara. He didn’t look too thrilled by the move.

“So, Kuni?” she slurred.

You froze at the name. Scara had made it clear that nobody but you called him that.

“Don’t call me that,” Scara muttered, his voice flat.

“Aww, why not? I thought I meant more than that,” Mona teased, clearly influenced by the alcohol.

“Can you go bother someone else?” Scara shot back.

“Don’t be like that!” Mona huffed, nudging him with her shoulder. “Want a massage? You used to love my massages.” She said the last part while looking directly at you, her hand casually caressing Scara’s shoulder. You quickly looked away, trying not to make it obvious that you were listening.

Scara removed her hand from his shoulder, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Mona didn’t let it go.

“Why won’t you just pay attention to me?” she whined, leaning closer.

“Can you not?” Scara finally turned to face her, his voice sharp. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

At this point, the whole room was trying to act like they weren’t paying attention, but it was clear they were all watching

“I just wanted to talk—” Mona began, but Scara interrupted her.

“I mean, what are you doing on this island?”

“I came to win you over,” Mona said, as though the answer was obvious.

“You’re the one who broke up with me,” Scara huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”

Mona took a long swig from her drink, unfazed.

“I didn’t want to,” she sighed, her voice thick with alcohol. “I would’ve stuck it out if your mom hadn’t… well…”

You felt a flush of heat spread across your face at the mention of Scara’s mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed; Childe, Aether, and Kazuha exchanged glances, each looking more uncomfortable by the second.

Scara grabbed Mona’s glass from her hand, his fingers tight around it. “You should shut up.”

Mona, however, was too far gone to be deterred.

“How could I not take the contract? You know how bad my old management was. I had no choice. It was either that or you. You know how it is.”

It was only when she noticed the entire room was staring at her that a little sobriety seemed to return. She clamped her palm over her mouth and stared at Scara, wide-eyed.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to say that,” she mumbled, her voice the most sincere it had been all night.

Scara didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground, his face unreadable, while Mona rambled her apology. The rest of the room shifted awkwardly, unsure if they should intervene or just let it pass. You could feel your heart race, had that been the real reason for their breakup? You had always thought Scara had ended things on his own terms.

Mona reached out for him, but Scara stood up abruptly, stepping over the scattered Jenga blocks on the floor as he moved toward the door. It creaked open, letting in a cold gust of night air before slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment. Then, Mona stood, swaying slightly, and started after him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Kazuha murmured, but his words were drowned out by the sound of the door shutting once again.

“Did you guys know about all that?” Venti asked, turning to Aether.

“Since it’s out in the open, yeah,” Aether sighed.

“We need to stop giving her drinks,” Lumine muttered under her breath.

“I’m kind of worried about Mona going after him,” Childe said, rising from his seat to peer out the window. “Knowing Scara, he might drown himself… or her.”

“I’ll go be a witness to the murder then,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. Childe gave you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as you made your way out the door.

You didn’t know why you felt the sudden urge to follow him. It had always been about trying to surpass him before. But tonight…tonight you just wanted to catch up to him. To be equals.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The bench is cold beneath him and the sea breeze is a sharp slap against his face as he stares out at the crashing waves. It’s quiet but it does little to distract him from the turmoil in his chest. His fingers curl around the cigarette, the thin paper already loose from where he pocketed it earlier. He twirls it between his fingers absently, trying to focus on the motions instead of his thoughts.

The urge to light it is almost unbearable. He can almost feel the familiar ache, the way the smoke would crawl its way down his lungs and quiet everything inside him. It would help him forget. At least for a little while.

But he promised he wouldn’t.

Your words echo in his head like a soft, repeated prayer, something that clings to him even when he’s alone. He knows if he takes that drag, it’s one more step back from everything he's trying to hold onto. One more thing he’ll have to explain to you, and he can’t stomach that right now.

So instead, he flicks the cigarette into the sand, watching it settle there like a tiny, forgotten thing, and then turns his gaze back to the sea. His breath hitches in his chest. If it isn’t the lack of nicotine that’s bothering him, it’s something else. Something sharper, older.

Something that happened more than a year ago.

Mona’s slurred words made the memory hit him with the force of a slap. It wasn’t her betrayal that stung, not really. He knew the two of them were never that serious. But it was the fact that she had chosen his mother over him. The fact that his own mother had paid her off like it was nothing.

Mona had once been sweet back when they first met. Her determination to be an idol had reminded him of you in a way. Maybe he was just searching for a piece of you in anyone he could find.

“Scara?”

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s her. He can smell the alcohol before he hears the soft, slurred voice, and when he finally looks up, there she is, weaving on unsteady feet, her hair tangled around her shoulders, eyes glazed.

She’s drunk.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I—uh—can I sit?” She hiccups, and despite himself, he shifts slightly to make room on the bench, the muscles in his back tense, coiled, but his body obeys the unspoken politeness he’d long been taught.

Mona doesn’t wait for a response. She just slumps beside him, her hands gripping her knees like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“I didn’t mean it,” she says after a long silence, the words coming out in a rush, broken by more hiccups. “I didn’t mean to say it to everyone. I swear, I didn’t. I was just—I was just trying to make you… jealous, or something.”

Scara doesn’t say anything. He can already feel his patience wearing thin, his hand tightening into a fist. He knows where this is going.

“You know how I get when I drink,” she continues, her voice small, vulnerable in a way that makes his gut twist. She leans into him, her breath warm and sour with alcohol. “I was just trying to get a rise out of you. I thought... maybe it’d make you care more. Maybe it’d make you feel something for once, you know?”

He stares ahead, trying to focus on the horizon, trying to avoid the heat of her body next to his, the smell of liquor clinging to her like a second skin. She’s slurring more now, and with every word, the tension in his chest grows heavier, pressing down until he’s almost suffocating.

He can feel her swaying beside him, her body suddenly lurching forward as she clutches her stomach. He reaches out instinctively, used to her being like this, his hand awkwardly rubbing her back just to keep her from falling over. She feels so fragile in his touch, but that fragility doesn’t excuse the way she’s always tried to pull him back into her drama.

She leans in, too close again, her words spilling out in a rush like she's been holding them back for too long.

“You know...” she starts, her eyes dark and unfocused. “I only started acting out because you wouldn’t pay me any attention anymore. You were always complaining about YN. Always.”

She lets out a short, frustrated laugh, and then hiccups, her face flushing. “I know it wasn’t love, Scara. I’m not stupid. It was just a stupid distraction wasn’t it, from whatever you felt for them.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Even if you didn’t realize it back then, I did. Even if all we had was physical you can’t deny it worked. We were good at that. So yeah, I got a little carried away. But if you hadn’t been so busy chasing them around, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

He can’t even find it in himself to deny it. After he had started dating her you’d started avoiding him for one reason or another. Maybe you thought everyone would get the wrong idea.

But it killed him.

“That doesn’t mean you can just run off and take the first offer my mom gives to you,” he snaps, his tone cutting. “If you really didn’t like the way I treated you that badly, you could’ve left. You could’ve walked away. No one was holding you here.”

He shakes his head, frustrated they were having this talk now of all time, “But you didn’t, did you? You stayed. Because you knew being with me—even if it wasn’t love—would give you the eyes on you that you wanted so damn badly.”

“You’re right,” she admits, the words coming out quietly. “ But I didn’t know what else to do. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.”

Scara scoffs at that.

“It didn’t look like it. All I saw was someone who was more interested in being the center of attention than me,” He shakes his head, turning his back to her for a moment. Honestly, he could keep going. But they were only having this conversation because she was drunk. There was no point, he was over it.

He exhales sharply, his tone flat when he speaks again, as if he’s just given up.

"Yeah, okay," Scara mutters, voice distant. "It's fine. It’s not like you’ll even remember this tomorrow, anyway.”

It’s the only thing he says, just to make the whole thing stop. He knows she’s looking for something else. An apology, maybe, or some kind of validation. But he’s too fucking tired to give her that now. And it’s not like he’s going to receive one.

"Really?" Her voice rises in a way that makes him want to shove her away. "You're fine with it?"

He doesn’t respond, though now he’s just waiting for her to puke all over him. The sound of the ocean lapping against the shore is the only thing filling the silence, until she’s leaning in closer, her breath hot on his ear, her face too close.

“You know,” she whispers, her words slurred and soft, “I wouldn't mind going back to what we had. Just for a night.”

Before he can stop her, she’s pressing her lips to his, soft and insistent, her body leaning into his as though this is what she’s been waiting for all along. Her mouth is warm, her hands finding their way to his chest, and for a moment, Scara’s heart stops.

Not because he wants it, but because he doesn’t.

He’s frozen, a quiet alarm ringing in his head. This isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants. Not from her.

Even if it was only for a few seconds, the moment stretches too long until he can finally pry her away from him. And when he does finally pull back, his hand is shaking.

“Don’t do that,” he says, voice tight with something: frustration, anger, confusion, maybe a little bit of pain. “Don’t try to fix this with... that.”

She blinks at him, confused, the haze of alcohol still clouding her eyes. "But... but I thought... we could—"

He stands up abruptly, cutting her off before she can make this worse. "Just... don't." The words hang in the air, heavy with finality.

She looks rather pitiful sitting on the bench like that, and he almost feels bad. Almost.

“You should just go,” he says, his voice flat, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

But then, as he turns to leave, he sees you.

In the distance, walking towards the kitchens, your figure framed by the fading light. Seeing you makes something inside him twist. He starts to wonder why you’d come out soon after he stormed off. The idea of you coming back, walking over to him like you actually care. Just that thought is enough to loosen the tight knot in his chest. He didn’t even realize how much he was holding his breath, waiting for it. For a moment, he lets himself imagine you doing it. He almost expects it, but the longer he stands there, the more he realizes it’s just a fantasy. He watches you for a moment, then his stomach drops when he realizes if you were out there you must’ve walked by him.

You had seen the kiss.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Your feet moved before your brain had a chance to tell you no. It was a strange instinct, one you didn’t quite understand. You’d never been one to comfort Scara. You’d been at odds with him for as long as you could remember, enemies in every sense of the word.

But after what you’d learned about his mother just the thought of him being alone, struggling with it, gnawed at you. You wanted to check on him. You needed to check on him.

The island was massive, and Scara wasn’t exactly known for his athleticism, so you figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. Still, your mind raced as you walked, trying to come up with something, anything, that would make him feel even a fraction better. What could you say to him that wouldn’t sound patronizing, or worse, awkward? You weren’t even sure you could help him, but you had to try.

And then, there it was.

The beach. The bench. The figure slumped against it. Scara. The cigarette in his hand. You’d found him.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to steady yourself. This wasn’t a time to lose control. But before you could take another step, your eyes caught the familiar outline of someone else. Mona. She was walking toward him, wobbling a little as she approached, and suddenly the moment felt off.

You stopped in your tracks, half hidden by a few tall bushes nearby, your body suddenly rooted in place. You should’ve turned around and gone back to the party. Scara was clearly occupied. He would be okay, right?

But no. Your eyes stayed locked on the two of them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away.

Mona was standing next to him now, her chest heaving slightly from hiccups, and her words were slurred as she spoke. Scara wasn’t saying much, but his hand moved, almost instinctively, it seemed, to rub her back, slow and careful. As if he was...comforting her. You felt your pulse quicken, a strange sense of something building up in your chest, something like a heavy weight pressing down on your ribs.

A normal person would’ve walked away, turned around and walked back to the party, chalking it up to nothing more than two people talking, nothing more than Scara being himself. But you were never normal when it came to Scara. So instead, you stayed rooted in the shadow, just watching like some creep. The words you had rehearsed in your head seemed meaningless now, overshadowed by the confusion swelling inside you. What was happening?

And then, without warning, you saw it.

Mona leaned in, her lips pressing against Scara’s.

The world tilted on its axis. You didn’t even know how to react at first. A cold knot of jealousy, something sharp and unexpected, wrapped around your chest, and you felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs.

Scara, someone you’d considered your mortal enemy, the person you had spent years fighting against, was kissing Mona. She wasn’t even trying to hide it, her hands clinging to his chest. Just the sight was enough to leave you standing there, paralyzed.

You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.

It was a mantra you were repeating in your head. But the jealousy gnawed at you in a way you didn’t understand, the sting in your chest a sharp reminder that maybe you cared a lot more than you’d ever let on. You’d always been jealous of Scara throughout the years, that feeling was something familiar. But this was something different. Your stomach is twisting with something you couldn’t name. Something that hurt to acknowledge.

Oh.

Without even thinking, you turned away, stepping back into the shadows, your feet felt heavy beneath you. You had no idea what you were feeling anymore. Or you did, but you couldn’t even voice it.

Scara was kissing Mona. Your Scara. Your Kuni. And you were standing there, like a fool.

If you had run after him a bit faster would you be the one he’d be kissing? That wasn’t the problem, though. No. The thing that bothered you the most was the way it made you feel like an outsider. The way it reminded you, in an almost painful way, that you weren’t the one he turned to for comfort.

That was how it had always been. Always. It shouldn’t have mattered.

But it did.

You didn’t know when it happened. Maybe it was the way he looked at you when he was angry, or the way he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. Maybe it was the constant back-and-forth, the challenge. Maybe it was the fact that he was always there, whether it be to hit you with a snarky remark or laugh at you when you fell second to him again. He’d always been there.

But you cared. And that made you want to punch something, or scream, or both. You’d never imagined a day when you would care about Scara in any way other than annoyance, or the irritation of seeing him always one step ahead.

Suddenly, your feet moved as fast as they could to get you out of there.

The walk from the beach to the kitchens feels like it takes longer than it should. The adrenaline from earlier is wearing off.

You step into the kitchens, the cool air inside a sharp contrast to the warmth of the night outside. The lights are low, casting shadows over the countertops, still littered from the dishes from earlier. A clink of glass catches your attention first, and then a familiar voice.

“You finally made it in here.”

You stop, looking up until your eyes land on Heizou. His casual smile is the same one he always had, though there's something softer in it tonight, like he’s been waiting. He’s got a glass of water in his hand, and you realize he must’ve been looking for you. He’s the last person you want to see right now, but he doesn’t seem surprised by your presence.

“You didn’t go back to the party,” he continues, setting the glass down on the counter. “I figured you might be hiding in here. You don’t look like you’re in the mood for another drink.”

You’re about to reply, but he catches you off guard by speaking up.

“Are you okay?”

You pause. It’s a simple question, but for some reason, it feels heavy. Before you even know what’s happening, the words just spill out.

“No, I’m not okay,” you start, your voice a little more brittle than you intended.

“I just... I just watched him. Scara. I saw him with Mona. It’s like everything I’ve been trying to avoid came crashing down in front of me. I don’t even know what to feel. It’s just... why is everything so complicated? Why does he have to make things so complicated?”

Heizou doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t look at you like you’re insane for spilling everything. He just watches, his calm expression making the chaos in your head even more prominent.

“Is that really what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, the faintest hint of concern in his eyes.

You blink, realizing that you’ve been ranting and completely unaware of how you’ve been projecting everything onto him. Heizou seems to sense it too, because next thing you know, he’s stepping closer, his presence warm and steady as he leans a little into the counter beside you.

“Hey,” he says, his tone gentle. “Come on. You need to relax.”

Before you can protest, Heizou wraps a reassuring arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. He places a hand lightly on your head, urging you to lean into him. You hesitate for a moment before giving in, resting your cheek against his shoulder. His body is a familiar comfort, though you didn’t expect it to be this comforting tonight. In the quiet of the kitchen, you realize how exhausted you are.

“You know,” Heizou says, his voice quiet but teasing, “I have no chance now, do I?”

You blink, not fully processing his words. “Huh?”

Heizou laughs softly, caressing his hand over your cheek, “Still as oblivious as ever, huh?”

You feel your brow furrow. “What are you talking about?”

Heizou’s fingers brush through your hair gently, like he’s trying to sort through his own thoughts. “It’s him, right?”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your heart beating a little faster. “What? No. I—”

But before you can finish, Heizou cuts you off, a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I saw you two kiss on the show. The hot tub.” He pauses, studying your face for any shift. “It was... something, wasn’t it?”

You feel your stomach tighten, the thought of the kiss now a distant, uncomfortable memory. “You know that was fake, right?” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

Heizou’s eyes stay locked on yours for a long moment, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He nods slowly, but there’s a slight edge to his tone. “Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.”

You swallow, the words suddenly feeling sharp. Your chest tightens, and you know you have to say something. You didn’t want to hurt Heizou’s feelings after he came all the way out here.

“No. It didn’t,” you say, your voice firm but tinged with something that feels more like a lie than you want to admit. “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

You don’t notice at first, but Heizou’s smile falters just the tiniest bit. “Yeah. Sure,” he says, his voice warmer now, almost wistful.

He doesn’t say anything else, but the silence between you both stretches out, heavy with unspoken understanding. You feel a little stupid for saying so much, for trying to convince him, or even yourself, that it was all nothing. You knew it was far from nothing.

Heizou finally breaks the tension, grabbing the water bottles he came in for. “Yeah, sure. Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

You stand there, watching him leave, suddenly realizing you’ve just unloaded more than you intended. But before he walks out the door, Heizou looks back, giving you one last knowing look, then disappears back into the hallway.

You’re still standing there when you hear a soft voice outside the kitchen door.

“Interesting.”

You freeze. Your heart skips a beat.

You turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat when you see Scara standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, like he’s been listening the entire time.

For a second, all you can do is stare at him. And then it hits you, the way Heizou’s words must’ve sounded to him. The way you had tried to downplay the kiss. The way you’d tried to convince Heizou that it meant nothing.

Scara raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused, but his eyes were glazed over with something else. “Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

The words stick in your throat, and before you can even try to explain, the hurt in his eyes is enough to make you realize he’s probably already misunderstood.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

Scara barely registered the words Mona was slurring anymore, his thoughts still tangled in knots from everything that had just happened. The sour taste of her lips still lingered. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was the thought of you seeing him like that. Seeing him with Mona.

He had to get out of there. Fast.

His mind raced as he stormed off, barely even registering where his feet were taking him. His body moved on autopilot, following after you towards the kitchens.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, chest tight with a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a soft clinking sound from inside. The low hum of voices.

And then he heard it.

Heizou. Of course. Scara narrowed his eyes, already annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

The door was slightly ajar, and without even thinking, Scara found himself inching closer, the need to know what was going on outweighing the nagging voice in his head telling him to turn around. To leave.

What he saw made his stomach churn in a way he hadn’t expected.

You were standing there, your face softer than he’d ever seen it, as Heizou pulled you into his side. The way your body melted into him like it was second nature to be close to him was unsettling, like something sharp had just slid under his skin.

For a second, Scara froze. His thoughts were clouded with the absurdity of it. You with Heizou? Who didn’t know you like he did? Absurd.

It wasn’t like you owed him an explanation. Yet the sight of you resting against him, affectionate, something Scara hadn’t seen you do with him made him... unseen. Like he didn’t belong in your life at all. The knot in his chest pulled tighter.

His breath caught, and before he could do something stupid he stopped himself. What was he even supposed to say? He wasn’t entitled to anything from you. He wasn’t yours.

So he stayed outside, watching. Listening.

He could hear Heizou’s voice, low and teasing, and then yours, soft but firm.

“No. It didn’t,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet kitchen, and Scara’s chest clenched painfully. “You know that was all fake, right? It didn’t mean anything. It was just part of the show.”

His heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through the silence like a blade. His stomach churned, and the weight of them hit him harder than any punch.

It wasn’t supposed to matter. It shouldn’t matter.

But it did.

Scara’s fingers dug into the frame of the door, his knuckles white. The words rang in his ears, repeating over and over. He tried to steady himself, tried to remind himself that it was all a game. The hot tub wasn’t supposed to mean anything to him, until it did.

But hearing you say it, hearing you so casually dismiss the kiss, made him feel like he was choking on something sharp and heavy. It was all fake. He had no right to feel that way.

The worst part was, he didn’t even know what to do with it. With you.

You’d both made it clear from the start that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. A show, a performance. The kiss was meaningless. Just another part of the script. He didn’t expect anything different. But hearing you say it so coldly and without any hesitation made something in him snap.

Before he could take a step back, Heizou’s voice drifted through the door again, a quiet laugh in his tone. “Yeah, sure.”

Scara could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, I get it. But it was your first kiss, right? It had to have meant something. At least to you.” The burgundy haired nuisance continued.

Scara's breath hitched, his chest tightening even further as he leaned in closer to the door, his pulse quickening. He felt an uncontrollable wave of frustration crashing through him. He could feel the words hitting him, one after the other, like Heizou’s voice was a punch to the gut. But worse was the feeling that came with it. The one that told him Heizou was right. That it had meant something. That he had somehow allowed himself to believe that the kiss between you and him had meant something beyond a simple game. He hadn’t realized how stupid you were making him.

But then your voice came through, clear and harsh, “It was all fake. The kiss...everything. It didn’t mean anything.”

Scara’s fingers trembled at the doorframe. The knot in his chest was tightening, twisting around his lungs. You were denying it. Denying him. The kiss, the heat, the rush of it. You were dismissing it like it had been nothing more than a convenient illusion. You weren’t wrong, the rational part of him knew that. That didn’t mean he had hoped you’d thought otherwise.

Everything he had been fighting so hard to bury flared back to life, hotter than before.

Heizou chuckled, a lighthearted sound, but it only made Scara feel more exposed. “Yeah, sure.” Heizou’s voice grew quieter, and Scara heard him getting ready to leave. “Well, I guess I should get back to the others and sober them up. But... good luck, okay? With everything. With…him.”

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, and Heizou left without a second glance, his footsteps fading down the hall.

He was about to turn and leave, he had too. But just as always with you, he couldn’t help but fight back.

“Interesting.”

You stood there in the doorway, looking caught between embarrassment and something else, your face pale, your eyes flicking nervously between the open door and him.

Scara stared at you for a long moment, his throat tight, before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

“Didn’t mean anything, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

YOUR POINT OF VIEW

Scara lets out a dry chuckle, sharp and almost bitter, before walking off. Your heart is still racing, adrenaline surging through you. The confusion is all still a blur.

And yet you follow him.

Something you’d never do, especially with him. But a part of you still wants to make sure he’s okay. And a bigger part of you doesn’t want him to walk away with the wrong idea.

“Why’d you follow me here?” you ask, your voice louder than you intended, still thick with that adrenaline.

He stops abruptly and turns around, eyes dark, but there’s something else there, too: vulnerability.

“Why did you follow me?” he shoots back, his voice low, taunting almost, but you can hear the frustration beneath it.

You stand there for a moment, trying to find the right words, but your thoughts feel tangled. “I just... wanted to see if you were okay,” you say, quieter now, your shoulders sagging. “I know your mom sucks, but...it seems like you were occupied.” You didn’t mean it to come off as bitter as it did.

Scara freezes for a split second, his gaze narrowing into something hard. “She’s the one who came onto me, okay?” His voice is biting, “I shoved her right off. And you can’t say shit, you were all over him back there.”

For a second, you can’t say anything. You feel a hot flush rise to your face. You take a breath, and then the words spill out, almost before you can stop them. “That didn’t even mean anything,” you mutter. “He was just... comforting me. I said that so he wouldn’t feel bad.” You don’t want to explain why. You’re glad he wasn’t there for the entire conversation.

Scara’s eyes flicker with something sharp. “Fine,” he spits out, hands gesturing in exasperation. “It’s all fake, then. Fine! It doesn’t matter. Whatever, you don’t need to explain yourself.”

You feel the words sting, and before you can even think, you’re snapping back. “Fine! Fine, Scara. If that’s what you want to believe, go ahead.”

You both stand there for a few seconds, glaring at each other, neither of you willing to back down. And then, just like that, you both start walking in the same direction.

You glance at him, a little incredulous. “You go first.”

Scara doesn’t even look at you. “No, you go first.”

“I said it first!” you protest, taking a step forward.

“No, you go.”

A beat of silence. Then, in unison, both of you groan.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath. “This is stupid.”

Neither of you says anything else, but you both start walking again. Side by side, but without speaking. The tension between you hasn’t fully dissipated, but now it’s more muted, like you’re both too tired to keep fighting.

By the time you reach the door to the dorms, the adrenaline has started to drain away, leaving only the residual ache of whatever you two just went through. You both stop at the doorstep, standing for a moment in the cool night air.

Scara's eyes drift lazily over to a bottle resting on the corner of the porch, a forgotten drink from earlier in the evening. Without a word, he picks it up, twists off the cap, and offers it to you, his face impassive.

“Want some?” His voice is quieter now, a little less sharp, though the remnants of the earlier tension still hang in the air.

You take it without thinking, your hand brushing his as you grab the bottle. Your throat feels dry, like you’ve just run a marathon, like everything from tonight has left you parched. He’s always left you out of breath.

You take a long sip, the alcohol burning down your throat, and pass it back. Scara drinks, then hands it back to you with a quiet gesture. You both settle onto the steps, the weight of the night pressing down around you, but the silence feels somehow comfortable now.

You’re not sure why, but with each sip, you feel a little less tense, a little less angry. It’s still there, but it's somehow quieter now. Maybe because it doesn’t feel like you need to have all the answers, not right now. Not with him sitting next to you like this.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore and the occasional sip from the bottle between you. You pass it back and forth like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The weight of the argument is still there, sure, but somehow it doesn’t matter so much anymore.

SCARA’S POINT OF VIEW

The quiet hum of the night surrounds you both as you sit on the porch, the sounds of crickets and the occasional hum of the waves filling the spaces between breaths. The bottle you’re passing back and forth feels less heavy now, unlike the unspoken things still floating around like ghosts between you and him.

You break the silence first, your voice quieter than you intended. “So, what were you and Mona talking about?”

He doesn’t answer right away, taking a slow swig from the bottle, his eyes fixed somewhere off in the distance. His lips press together in a tight line, but he finally turns to you, his expression unreadable. “Well, she was talking at me, really. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She was asking if I was ever in love with her…”

You raise an eyebrow, curious, “Well, were you?”

Scara’s gaze shifts. His body is tense. He doesn’t meet your eyes immediately, instead looking off to the side, like he’s searching for something.

He feels the precipice you're both on.

He wants to jump.

“No.”

The word hangs there, and for a moment, everything is still. He can feel the air between you both shift, like the ground beneath your guys’ feet has tilted slightly.

“Really?” you ask, more quietly this time. “How did you know you weren’t in love with her?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He shifts on the step, his foot tapping idly against the wood. He wants to say he just knew, as cliche as that sounds. His eyes are fixed forward now, knowing if he looks at you his words won’t leave his mouth. He takes a swig.

The words come out slowly, like he’s still figuring them out as he speaks.

“I don’t know... I just knew, I guess.” He hesitates, then adds, “What I felt for her is different from what I know love is.”

The silence stretches, and he feels like you’re standing at the edge of something with him.

He’s waiting. He thinks he’s always been waiting for you.

“And you… know what that feels like?” you ask, voice softer now, almost hesitant, like you’re testing the waters.

His eyes finally rake over you.

“I do now.”

You opened your mouth, and he’s hoping something, anything, comes out of it. He felt like he’d just sliced his chest open and was bearing his heart to you with bloodied hands.

His words hang in the air for a long moment, strange and heavy. Your gaze catches his, and for just a second, there’s a flicker in your eyes, something guarded but knowing. Scara holds your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it’s like everything in him stills. The air is thick, as if the words you’ve both danced around are hanging just out of reach. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast to the heat creeping up his neck.

He knows this feeling all too well. The way his chest tightens when he realizes something he’s been waiting for will never come. His mother’s attention. You. It’s a feeling he’s all but accustomed too. But there you were, just out of his reach. He doesn’t expect you to understand. Hell, he doesn’t even understand himself half the time. But in that moment, sitting next to you, he wants you too.

The weight of your unspoken words presses on him. But maybe that’s all this will ever be, a weight. The knowledge that he’ll never feel the same way about anyone else and that you’ll never feel the same about him. That thought stabs at him like a shard of ice in his chest, cold and sharp. He wants to say something, but the words aren’t there. Not yet. Not ever, maybe.

“We should go inside,” he murmurs, breaking the silence, his voice almost a whisper against the night’s stillness.

His voice drops further, and he shifts slightly on the step, his leg brushing against yours. It’s an unconscious motion, but it feels deliberate somehow. Like he wants to be closer but knows better than to ask for it.

“Yeah,” you pipe up from beside him, “We should.”

Yet you both sit there for a few more minutes, passing the bottle until nothing is left in its wake. He doesn’t look over at you again, doesn’t dare too. Instead he gets up and goes inside, leaving you behind.

Something you’ve always said he’s good at.

[00:00:00] POST PARADISE DATE TAKE ONE

YAE: So, do you want to talk about today?

SCARAMOUCHE: Talk about what?

YAE: The kiss, obviously. What else would we talk about?

SCARAMOUCHE: What happened to "Hi, how are you?"

YAE: [LAUGHING] This is a safe space.

SCARAMOUCHE: It absolutely is not, but you want to talk about the kiss? Fine. It wasn't real. I didn't even kiss her back, she was drunk and I don't love her. And I'm not that much of an asshole to take advantage of someone drunk. I'm a terrible person, but not that bad.

YAE: [SPEECHLESS]

SCARAMOUCHE: This is fucking stupid. Why did l even have to explain myself? I have nothing to prove to anybody. [GETS UP]

YAE: Scaramouche, wait—

SCARAMOUCHE: [WALKS OFF SCREEN]

stuck with you!

materlist — prev | next

(typos) *slide 6: feelings wheel / *slide 8: i just had this realization

first update of the year wow!

sorry guys i’m scared to do the keep reading button so…😛

after typing oh. oh. i was like ooh bitch i ate

also ignore how scara lowk littered uhm he picked up his cig after dw! environmentally friendly king!

pls comment or send me an ask if u enjoyed i need motivation 🤗

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — four updates during break ur welcome! my break ends in two weeksish so idk if ill be able post another one before then so let me rest xx

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @starringyau @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

#scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader smau #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x male reader #scaramouche smau #genshin smau #scaramouche genshin x reader #genshin x reader #stuck with you smau

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dadsbongos · 8 months ago

Text

a king, his advisor, and the betrothed

@toxycodone the fic is here fren

11 K words / warnings - reader has vag n wears a dress once, threesome WOAH, p in v + p in a sex, oral (m receiving), kabru is a fan of inappropriate workplace relationships

summary - Laios cannot find a suitor on his own, so Kabru is forced to summon an old... friend... for help.

~~~

“Just… someone you would like, then.”

“Someone I would like?”

“Yeah! If you like them, they must be good, right?”

“This isn’t about… ugh, fine.”

Kabru already knew exactly who to set up with Laios, but he wanted to grant himself a few more hours of delusion by drafting a list of desired traits.

A queen should be: diligent and humble, wise and patient. Honest.

Ideally, a short-lived king should marry from another short-lived race. Any children will therefore be short-lived as well, which Kabru considers highly preferable. Another tallman is his best option to keep infertility sparse.

Laios’ personality will need to be accounted for as well (Kabru finds that the longer he dawdles, the more fun he has hypothesizing Laios’ perfect match).

Laios, specifically, needs someone blunt and unencumbered by conformity -- the man seems to thrive when others feel comfortable speaking frankly with him. Someone from another royal court will not do, and especially not someone descended from direct nobel blood. Furthermore, Laios is clueless as to what his own title ensues, so he does little more for his countrymen than make appearances or pass budgets and bills. So for Kabru’s own sanity, someone intelligent and inclined to make Laios do his actual job is also preferred.

They must balance indulgence and sobriety for the man’s antics, as well as willingness to sit through Laios’ obscure personality.

Wait…

“No,” Kabru scratches that last half of his sentence, ink bleeding across the page, “What kind of matchmaker settles?”

They must like Laios, and Laios must like them. Laios is not a man Kabru can envision enduring loveless marriage, it’d be too awkward and the dolt would have it annulled.

Someone not petrified by monsters and intrigued by Laios’ strange personality, but also not so deranged as to be exactly like Laios.

Again, a single name comes to Kabru’s mind, but this time he does not put it off. He’s had his fun scheming, now he must draft a letter to the Northern Continent. To a village chief’s firstborn -- acquainted well enough with basic politics while also sharing a similar upbringing with Laios.

You’re perfect.

You’re also…

“An ex-party member?” Laios’ eyes skim over the contents of Kabru’s summoning letter, addressed at the top to you, “Cool.”

“Yeah, an ex-party member,” Kabru sighs to himself, imagining Rin beating him over the head with her staff right about now, “I think you should know, I briefly- ”

“Kabru,” Laios shakes his head, grinning, “I don’t care. If you trust them, I do.”

Briefly -- sure -- if an entire year and some months was brief. Kabru sighs louder and decides to let Laios find out on his own, since the king is so determined to look cool and easygoing.

In any case, you’ll be fond of Laios, Kabru’s certain.

Certain, and also dreading.

Year 512

“Where’d you find the space case anyway?”

“You sound upset.”

“Look!” Rin flings a gloved arm straight out, gesturing heatedly towards where the party’s newest member is staring straight at the first floor’s cracked ceiling.

Both hands squeezing the straps of your pack, you leave your throat completely exposed in order to gaze at a dark, faraway roof. The ease with which Kabru could slit your tender neck is comical, he finds it more concerning than charming. Any hoodlum or hooligan could rob and beat you blind and you’d be incapable of a proper defense.

“Let me handle it,” Kabru hopes to placate Rin with a soft grin, its success is limited because Rin’s known him long enough to push through his gushy exterior. She puts up no fight, thankfully, and let him approach you alone, “Hey!”

“Shh!” you hiss cutting your fingers along your jaw to silence him. His shock and horror at your rudeness must be visible because you wave that same hand around and smile, “Sorry. It’s just…”

Pointing up, your stare returns to the ceiling. Eyes wide and lips curled with glee. Kabru heeds and grimaces: glistening slimes the shade of clovers goop between gaping slashes in the ceiling. Pulsating and shivering as one beating organ, Kabru can’t think up a more disgusting sight.

“Slimes are sensitive to the heat we exhale, so the louder you are the easier they can find you.”

Blinking at you as inconspicuous as possible, Kabru asks, “Why stand right under them then?”

“They’re so weird. They don’t look intelligent, but they move around easily and developed such a scary way to trap prey. Pretty neat.”

Kabru has half a mind to cut you out of the party just for saying that, until you tack on a,

“Still super gross, though. We should move before they notice us.”

Kabru nods, watching you cross towards the rest of the party before following with a silent prayer that you’re not actually a monster fanatic.

His prayers are answered on the second floor -- your party is down, Holm and Daya crumpled over on opposite sides of the tree den. Kuro is strewn over a shaking, teary Mickbell with a bloody gash in his back. Rin has a similar slash, only deep in her gut and Kabru can tell she’s bleeding out fast.

While he prides himself on his wit and light thinking, Kabru is horrified by the sight of his party in agony. Planning so far ahead of himself he’s trying to scheme how to charm a passing healer into aiding Rin or reviving Holm, meanwhile he can’t even be certain he’s going to survive this attack. His own life is on the back on his mind, body stiff in preparation to swing his sword and cut off the chicken head of a charging Basilisk.

But how should he cut? It has to have a carotid artery, or a heart, but where? What if his strike is at a wrong angle and the snake side gobbles you all up.

Suddenly, the glint of your sword blinds him -- you snip the snake in half, exploiting the monster’s following stagger to round its body and stab through the Basilisk’s head. Tearing outward and splattering Kabru in blood as the beast drops.

He looks to you in silence, knees sore and wobbly and hands a shaking wreck.

Simply, you say, “The snake head is the real head, so if you attack that end first the chicken tail is distracted and easy to sneak up on,” then, you notice his trembling, “Oh, sorry…”

As if waiting for permission, Kabru’s body gives out once your hands find his shoulders. You smooth a palm over his back while shredding the loose material of your blouse to mop up the mess. Gently soaking Basilisk blood from his face with a frown marring your face, continuously murmuring apologies.

Kabru takes your wrist in his hand, blinking back his shock to sigh, “Thank you.”

Suspecting there’s more words jumbled on his tongue, you patiently wait that way: knelt beside Kabru as he squeezes your wrist.

“I think we should go back to the surface.”

You nod quickly. Much quicker than he’d assume you would given how directly you dealt with the terrifying Basilisk, “Do you want me to head back and get corpse retrievers? I doubt we could carry everyone up by ourselves.”

He takes note of how you specifically exclude Mickbell, presumably due to the young man’s hysterics.

The sharp tang of raw iron is filling Kabru’s nose, he chokes on it. He can’t stand to smell it a second more.

“No,” but inhaling through his mouth makes him taste it, rotting each bud on his tongue, “No. I’m the party leader, I should get them.”

Your eyes are lidding, no shock or awe found in the twinkle of your iris -- you were expecting this response.

“Sure, Kabru, I’ll wait with Mickbell.”

You don’t call him out on it, though.

Once the party has been revived and Kabru’s thrown the men their coins, you suggest the crew return a floor above.

“I’m sure nobody wants to eat where they died, so let’s have lunch up there and save instead of visiting a stall,” you gasp quietly and cover your mouth, then deferring to Kabru, “If that sounds good to you? Sorry… I shouldn’t have spoken so boldly like that…”

“No, you’re right,” even though he’s not looking to confirm, Kabru can feel Rin burning holes into his skull with her glare, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Secretly he’s glad no outsiders heard you make that call -- he isn’t ashamed to be bossed around by someone in a blouse, but he’s also not unrealistic. Others seeing that could threaten his meager status among the adventuring community. He’d be the wimp pushed around by his own members.

Interrupting his spiral, again, is you, “Okay, let’s get going then!” you clamp another hand over your mouth, “Right, Kabru?”

“Right.”

Thankfully, it is just your party who only finds your zealousness comedic rather than an opportunity for mutiny.

Returning visit to the first floor proves you about as useful as the initial one did.

Holm and Daya are unpacking rations with Mickbell and Kuro straggling at the edge of the blondes’ conversation. Rin is fetching water. Kabru is watching you; and he knows he should be either helping Rin, or lecturing you to help Rin, but he keeps watching.

He cannot hear you, but he knows you’re speaking -- crouched to make eye contact with a pair of slight humans. Round cheeks and marblesque eyes tell Kabru they’re just scratching at maturity. Not even thirteen.

The shorter one, a boy with freckles, picks at tender plumes of skin around his nails, knees shaking. He finds no voice, but the girl beside him does. She squeezes the shirt over her heart and her brows furrowed with passion, he can barely make out the words: mage, fourth, corpse retrievers.

One of your hands is perched on your bent knees while the other grazes along the forsaken graveyard, your head tilts and if he really forces his ears then Kabru can hear you ask, “How did you get separated?”

The girl’s shoulders go lax, lip twitching down as she sputters a reply. The boy’s picking grows frantic, his head shaking and voice shivery (this time Kabru can pick up: without her, no chance).

Kabru’s gaze hones on you, dissecting each twinge in your face as you process the information. Daya and Holm’s voices become vague, like buzzing insects, even Rin’s agitated staring from the fountain is pushed out of focus. How will you react to these children?

It's a horrible story, he’s sure. He’s so sure it’s a truly heartbreaking tale about two little ones separated from their ward on a lower level due to a snap decision from fear. However, it could also be just that: a story.

Criminals banned from The Island’s coasts often seek refuge in the bowels of the dungeon. Kabru feels confident that as this dungeon continues to fester unconquered: criminals are beginning to raise their children here.

If you blindly follow them down, you’re a fool. If you hand over all your party’s gold, you’re a fool. If you do nothing, you’re heartless. Heartlessness can be worse than foolishness, at least fools have good intentions.

Fingers wrap around the stem of a limping flower and pull, cutting it clean from the floor and holding the plant for both children. You push your hand closer to the kids, waiting until the girl grasps the flower before speaking again,

Something long winded, and judging by the shudders racketing down the boy’s frail body something rather dismal too. Yet you’re beaming up at the children, then they’re smiling as well. Rising to your feet, you brush moss stains from your knees and wave the children off with a promise Kabru can actually hear,

“If my party finds any retrievers, we’ll send them down.”

With eager nods, the kids sniffle and affirm their bravery to you -- the girl cradling the plucked daisy to her chest. You return to your party’s camp and boldly declare,

“I think we should try reaching the fourth floor soon.”

Rin bonks you with an elbow to the side, “Where’s this enthusiasm when I needed help carrying the water?”

Rubbing the tenderized area, you laugh and accept her frustration, “Sorry. Got caught up.”

“Obviously,” Rin sighs, falling to her knees around the party’s temporary camp.

Kabru sits as well, still observing as you apologize to Rin again though your eyes trailing the kids as they heft food packs onto their shoulders and begin their trek.

Mickbell settles into Kuro’s lap, Daya has begun digging into her plate while Holm ensures everyone has a filling portion. Rin agrees to dissolve the tension, meaning you two can begin gaffing amongst yourselves. As if you never left, the party is normal.

Despite your itch to reach the fourth floor as soon as possible, you don’t mention the interaction whatsoever.

Overall, Kabru considers your first dive with the party a cohesion success.

Year 515

“Don’t speak over or interrupt. Got it?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Alright.”

“I’m serious,” Kabru’s eyes widen a smidge, as if to force how pertinent it is that Laios absorbs this lesson, “I’m still upset about the meeting last week.”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t done talking,” Laios frowns, shrugging in an obnoxiously coy play, the worst part being that Kabru knows Laios does it in earnest. His stupid kicked-puppy stare is entirely genuine, “That guy takes long breaths, it’s hard to tell when he’s done.”

“Well try harder to tell now,” a wave of guilt hits Kabru in the chest, heart squeezing at the sight of Laios’ frown deepening, “I don’t mean to upset you. I just… I want this to go well.”

“I do, too, you know?”

Kabru finds that hard to believe, but Laios isn’t lying to him right now. He’d know otherwise. Whether Laios can make a positive impression will have to be seen, but the man clearly has no intentions of sabotaging himself.

For all his lackluster socio-political ambitions, Laios is still a good king: insightful to the experience of commonmen and quick to new ways of strengthening their country. He has yet to give citizens, or Kabru, valid reason to question his ability to rule.

“I’m sure,” Kabru turns in his desk chair, bracing his forehead with his palm, “Let’s get this finished then.”

“But- “ Laios hesitates when he’s shot an icy glare from Kabru, “But I’m so hungry…”

As if to punctuate his torment, Laios’ stomach grumbles. Loudly. Echoing through the informal setting of Kabru’s personal quarters.

“My poor royal majesty,” Kabru coos, inked with sarcasm, “Will you survive till lunch?”

Laios’ eyes go thin, arms folding, “Don’t demean me.”

“It’s one meal. You’ll hardly die. The faster we finish this paperwork, the quicker we can usher you to breakfast.”

“I want to go now,” Laios, with no sense of self, lays his lips into the crook of his advisor’s neck. Soft, plump flesh scorching Kabru’s pulse, then a cold flash of bone: teeth, “I’m starving.”

Bladepoint canines puncture Kabru’s skin, shock blinding him to the scathing scratch till after Laios has already pulled away. Saliva stringing them together before Laios snaps it, sloppily swiping the wrist of his sleeve across his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Kabru starkly avoids eye contact by glaring at the sheen of spit on his shoulder, cupping the inflamed flesh, “Go change your shirt now, it’s not a handkerchief.”

He doesn’t remember when he first felt comfortable being so venomous around Laios, only that it's easier than trying to be pleasant all the time.

“After I eat?” Laios prompts.

“After you eat,” Kabru massages his tensing temples, working away the headache as it builds.

Upon Laios’ exit, Kabru traces the shallow indents with his fingertips -- lashes fluttering against his cheeks at the resulting faint sting. Now he’ll be forced to find a new shirt of his own, one that hides his bruising mark.

Year 513

“As long as we don’t piss off any living armor, we should be able to get to the fourth floor, at least,” you nod to yourself, hands steady and body firm as you hold up your homemade map of the area.

Raucous groans follow your cheery assessment, and a cursory glance back shows your party in disarray: Rin and Holm have heavy, discolored bags beneath their eyes. Daya is leaning against her axe with quaking arms while Mickbell coils around Kero’s shoulders. Even Kabru can admit he looks worse for wear, or assumes he does because he certainly feels at his worst.

“Oh, unless you all want to head back?” you roll the map up and wave a hand dismissively, almost seeming ashamed of the previous suggestion. Cautious to maintain a soothing and even tone, clearly doing your best to prevent any of them from feeling coddled or mocked.

Not that he truly wants to, but Kabru agrees, “Probably for the best. We’re running low on food, so we should save what we have for the journey back.”

“Makes sense,” you don’t appear disappointed or discouraged, “There’s always next time.”

“Enough optimism,” Mickbell whines, “It’s making me all nauseous.”

“Be nice,” Rin chastises, then looking at you forlorn, “You could probably carry on without us.”

Her dejected lilt prevents any accusations of wanting you to go it alone.

“No way, I’d go crazy by myself!”

Kabru reads that instantly as a lie -- if your scrunching brows and fidgeting hands weren’t telling enough then perhaps you don’t remember confessing to him your days as a solo adventurer.

You could easily carry on without the rest of the party. Hell, you could even join a better, stronger party -- the Toudens, maybe. They’d chomp at your skills if they cared even a little about their fellow men. Kabru bets you would even be able to form a party of your own with ease.

“We’re strongest when everyone’s at their best, after all,” you reassure, turning your back on the dream to hit fourth floor this crawl in favor of aiding your party’s exhaustion, “As long as we can go that deep eventually, I’ll die happily.”

Kabru doesn’t bring up how rapidly approaching the date for you to sail back home is, he gets the sense you wouldn’t want him to.

“Well don’t go keeling on us as soon as we do,” Rin’s scowl loosens, only slightly, when you smile in return and loop an arm through hers.

“Of course, not, Rin. Who else would terrorize you if I died?”

Quickly, the mage’s dark eyes flick to Kabru before returning to you, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, duh.”

Her gaze lingers on the way you’re staring at Kabru and how Kabru stares back. She must read his fondness because her forehead wrinkles up and she tugs you forward, “Yeah, duh.”

Year 515

Kabru’s foot taps impatiently, knowing it’d be improper were he to rush over and help you down from the carriage himself. But forgive the man, he’s in a hurry to have you at his side again.

He wonders if you wear the same perfume.

He wonders if you’ll take to Laios immediately, or will it take the entire two weeks before your wedding ceremony for you to warm to him?

Most of all, he wonders if he can compose himself during the entire courting process.

“Hey!”

Kabru’s mind snaps back into the present at your call, you’re charging over with an ecstatic wave. He waves back, calmer and centered towards his chest.

“It’s great to see you again!” you effortlessly knock the polite handshake Kabru extends aside to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “Imagine my surprise, the first time you send a letter is to try and marry me to a king!”

“I never found the time to write back when things finally got interesting,” Kabru bluffs, returning your hug. Warmth spreads between the both of you, if he focuses hard enough he can make out the dull thud of your heart, “Hopefully this makes up for it.”

“Definitely,” you pull back, rolling your eyes, “Father made my brother village chief while I was on The Island, so there wasn’t anything left for me to do there.”

“Perfect time to get one up on your brother. Even just marrying into royalty is better than village chief.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Let’s meet Laios Touden first. I remember he was kind of a weird guy, no?”

“He still is,” Kabru shrugs, turning to guide you into the main hall as men lug your bags towards the castle’s south wing, “He’s nice, at least. Wants to make living easier,” he glances back at you over his shoulder, “Handsome, too. You must remember what he looks like.”

“I remember he was big.”

“Strong, yeah,” Kabru slows to match paces with you through the rolling corridors, “Nice jawline, pretty eyes, and the slope of his nose isn’t terrible. He’s kind of an outstanding specimen, physically I mean.”

“Oh…” you press a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing at his rambling, “So his looks do the heavy lifting?”

“Just something to keep in mind,” he pauses outside a set of tall double doors, one hand braced against the hanging, solid black handle, and the other drawing circles into his temple, “His unique personality hasn’t faded with becoming king.”

“How interesting.”

“That’s a word for it.”

Laios is slumped comfortably back into his throne, sunlight complimenting his bored expression before he notices the pair pushing through his grandeur. Immediately, his eyes sink into you, scrawling from the top of your head to your feet in blatant observation. Staunchly, his gaze remains respectful to your modesty, indicating he’s purely sizing you up; perhaps confirming whether or not he could take you in a fight. Or to use you as a meager replacement for his monsters, studying your anatomy and mentally attaching tails and horns and heads where he sees fit.

“King Laios,” you politely remain behind Kabru. Your own gaze lurches over the king’s body as well, much less clinical than his examination -- you already know you could take him in a fight. What you want to imagine now, is if he’s the outstanding specimen that Kabru claimed, “So nice to see the Golden Kingdom for myself.”

“Prettier than the North,” Laios, much to Kabru’s unspoken irritation, scratches the back of his head without grace, “You’re from there too, right? How has it been? I haven’t been in awhile.”

“Oh, you know,” none of the men from your village look like Laios, despite their hard labor they aren’t built like him. Big. Beefy. Chewable also comes to mind; you could chew him up and be full of protein. From the little pouch of his stomach you surmise he isn’t cut or excessively defined, which drives you mad, “Same as usual. Cold and quiet.”

“Mhm. How about the monsters up top? I don’t think anybody from my village was willing to slay them,” he folds his arms, legs spreading as he readjusts for comfort, head ticking curiously, “I’ve been thinking lately that they could be overrun by monsters if nobody fights them off.”

Kabru’s irritation grows, having to claw at his thighs to restrain from choking the man. He may be older and bigger and more powerful than Kabru is, but Laios is the most painfully oblivious man in the world. He just has to be. He’s so focused on not attacking his king that Kabru almost misses how eyes scald his side at the mention of monsters overtaking the North.

“I haven’t noticed anything unusual,” and you mean that, the North truly is as boring as it was when you were growing up, “Maybe more acceptance for magic, but that’s mostly to combat the increase in ghosts.”

“Increase in ghosts,” Laios’ eyes bulge, posture straightening out in vivid excitement, “Do they know why there’s so many? Do they just wander around, or do they remain in cemeteries?”

“Ah, King Laios,” you try to hide the way your eyes bounce repeatedly towards Kabru’s rigid frame. His hands are balled, even shaking, and his stare is aimed over the king’s right shoulder, “Perhaps we could get some privacy before discussing such things?” you boldly step forward, correctly assuming Laios would take no offense at the intrusion, “We should get to know each other on our own.”

“Oh, right!” Laios waves a dismissal towards Kabru, apologizing for holding the man so long.

You don’t ask Kabru if he’s okay before he leaves, but you take one of his hands and squeeze it gingerly. Smiling tenderly and bidding him well. A soft halo of gold ringing around your head from sunlight pouring through glass panes.

“Don’t let- ” just as he’s apologizing for his king, you silence Kabru.

“I’ll form my own opinion,” you release his hand, still grinning, “You trust me, don’t you?” he nods, of course he does, “So trust me to gather my own thoughts, okay?”

Oh, God that cannot be a good sign.

Please, please, please -- he’s contemplating getting on his knees to pray outside the doors -- please don’t let his reaction to Laios’ monster obsession make you hate the king. You’re his only choice, the only one that will do!

You’re kind and strong willed and beautiful and he’d love to have you living under the same roof as himself.

Not that that has anything to do with his decision. No, no, that would be idiotic.

That would be the worst plan he’s ever planned in his entire life. So, he’s glad it's separate from his real motivation.

At least, he’s glad until that night. Alone in his bed with only moonlight shining along his pristine sheets.

For hours Kabru has been cooped in his room, and technically he’s been cooped in his mind even longer. Since the second a passing pair of guards relieved him from lingering outside the throne room, Kabru blindly stumbled through his messy thoughts.

Worse now than ever before is the desperation to know. Clawing him apart from the inside out. He needs to know.

To know what you’re feeling. To know what’s being said. To know why you two never came out, even hours after Kabru left. In explicit detail, he must know. What you like about Laios, what you don’t, what you find attractive, if you got hot in the face when you saw him, if you ever felt that way about Kabru, if you think Kabru’s attractive, if you accepted his invitation just because Kabru sent it or because you truly wanted to meet Laios.

He can’t just ask, so now he must meticulously set up a series of precision events to fish the information out.

Because your hesitance to emphatically accept the proposal confuses Kabru. You’ve never been particularly picky about partners, but you’re not the type for manufacturing attraction to spare a person’s feelings. So theory one is that Laios is not physically appealing to you.

Though not even that explanation makes sense. To be short, Kabru doesn’t understand how you couldn’t be attracted to Laios. Such strong, determined features demanded attention; and trust, the attention would be positive.

Broad shoulders and meaty thighs, Laios’ build is admirable on its own: Kabru could sink his teeth into Laios’ bicep and never cut bone. Aside from that is the healthy fluff of blonde hair his king keeps trimmed, as well as his face. Remaining clean shaven gives an air of proper hygiene and self-sufficiency that makes Laios seem more attractive.

Kabru cannot fathom how you’re not preparing vows yet.

That thought makes him shoot up in bed, eyes wide and a hand curled into his churning gut.

Why can’t Kabru fathom how you’re not preparing vows? Why does he find it so peculiar?

That type of questioning, this obsession -- it implies Kabru wants to prepare vows, doesn’t it?

With ragged grumbling Kabru collapses back into his mattress, letting his fried brain melt through his ears as he finally attempts giving in to sleep.

…

He wakes to a nightmare the next morning -- you and Laios are alone in the great hall, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the end closest to the kitchen. Chairs pushed so close the armrests are peeling against each other, elbows knocking as Laios forgoes all table etiquette. Not once do you scold or demean him. Instead seeming too engrossed at the ear-nibbling of shapeshifter trivia Laios is laying down.

“Did you ever run into one?” Laios asks, eyes a little too glittery for someone who must’ve woken quite early for this private breakfast, “My dad had our dogs follow herds so we could spot them in the flock.”

“Dogs can tell which sheep are fakes?”

“Oh, yeah! Dogs can tell by the smell,” Laios taps his nose, “I wonder what the difference is, don’t you? Do they smell more sweet, like dirt? Or do they have no smell at all since their illusions?”

“Maybe a Kobold would be able to tell you? Their anatomy is dog-like, after all.”

“I thought so, too! But there’s not many Kobolds native to the North.”

“Well, hopefully you can find out one day,” then you bite for more monster facts, “I did always wonder what my own shapeshifter could look like. Don’t they read people’s minds to make their copies?”

Laios’ silverware clatters away, tinking loudly on the glass plate, hands flexing hysterically, heart jumping to his tongue, “They do, they take other people’s interpretations of you to confuse your company into keeping it around.”

“How thrilling,” you muse.

“It’s a shame I’ll never get to see or make another one,” he lifts his fork, pushing meat and eggs around his plate glumly, “Would’ve been fun to see what you look like in my memory compared to the real thing.”

“You can tell me now,” your palm bares his shoulder, leaning over your chair and towards his own. Laios’ honey eyes dip, tracing the shape of your lips which makes you lean even closer, “How is it that you see me, Laios? Would I be flattered?”

“I hope so,” he blurts.

Kabru backs away, rattling door hinges before slumping back into the corridor. Rotten thoughts of how lovely you are corroding his brain. You’re so lovely to nip at your betrothed’s interest wholeheartedly, no matter how unconventional.

You’re so lovely it's all consuming.

You’re so lovely he can’t remember when or why, exactly, he fell in love with you.

You’re so lovely he thinks he might have just always been your emotional pin cushion.

There remains to be a single thing Kabru could name that made him fall in love with you.

Kindness is much too bland of a trait. And you wanted the wellbeing of others, but that’s something Kabru expects from people. You are pretty, but that’s no reason to daydream about buying a house together. Perhaps it was a combination of all three that mixed lethally well with how much time you spent together.

That, with how detrimental party romances are to group fallouts, maybe made you more desirable? Could that be it?

You were a new, fascinating person he couldn’t pick apart as soon as he gazed upon you, and you knew exactly how to swerve his expectations. You loved listening to him mutter about the interlocked nature of humans: one man cheating on his wife in Kahka Brud undoing a port in Melini. But you stepped away from interpersonal Island gossip. You could rattle out seven variations of man-eating plants but couldn’t stand to even look upon the vegetation without grimacing.

Approachable with a thin smile and batting lashes, beautiful and quiet. Very quiet. You hardly ask anything of others. It should make you seem ominous or menacing, but no part of him feels endangered by you.

Kabru always felt so comfortable around you that, despite knowing his other party members longer, he found you the easiest to converse with. Before he could realize himself, you’d crawled over so many emotional walls without letting him bypass a single one of your own.

You’re his worst nightmare, he craves you more than oxygen.

Year 513

The tavern door opens with an outrageous squeal. If the mood were different, then you would probably make a humorous remark about the aged hinges. But the mood isn’t different. Things are tense and he just wants to go home now.

Even twinkling stars blink away to avoid giving his humiliation anymore attention. Moonlight rudely oozes over you both, though, reminding him how much he prefers the sun. The moon always seems to follow him when he’s whirled in his worst turmoil.

You step into the tavern first, holding the cranky door open for him. He’d thank you like the upstanding young man his mother raised… if only the mood were different.

Silently, Kabru trails behind you, cheeks blistering hot and palms moist, with his head bent. You two make it back to the table circled by your party, sans Daya due to a more pressing engagement with her fiance. Rin’s perma-scowl cracks briefly into blatant shock at his slouch before schooling herself into re-wrinkling her face. Confusion curling into the folds of her glabella.

“What happened?”

Per usual, you answer for Kabru, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” anger seems to flash briefly over her for a moment, a spasm so minute only Kabru can spot it, “Really?”

He’s not surprised she’s upset about him, shamefully, trying to woo you during a night out with the party. What surprises him is that her anger is solely directed at you.

At least until you nod firmly, “Nothing happened, Rin.”

Then pity laxes her irritation, she spares Kabru a flicker of eye contact before mumbling an ‘okay’. She ends up remaining largely silent for the rest of the night, only extending responses when directly prompted.

What else surprises him is the ease with which you lie. Something happened, just not how he wanted it to play out.

Maybe he didn’t notice because of his drowned mood, but Kabru swears you didn’t exhibit any of your usual tells when you spoke.

(the fact he harps on your physical tells will make him so mad he cries later tonight)

Year 515

“He’s going to burn their ear off, I’m telling you…” Marcille grumbles.

“I think it's cute,” Falin grins.

“Of course, you do,” Marcille sighs, though smiling fondly at the girl while scritching around her plumage. Falin chirps happily and nuzzles into Marcille’s shoulder, “He’s your brother, you never think he’s as weird as he is.”

Kabru speaks boldly, which he knows is unlike himself but he’s so eager to show that he knows you more than them that he cannot stop himself, “They can bond over the monster talk, at least.”

“Are they even into monsters?”

“Kind of?” he backtracks, realizing that he isn’t sure how to answer her question, “They hate monsters, but they know a lot.”

“Good on you for finding someone like that, then,” Marcille shrugs, “They might actually have a good marriage.”

Kabru tenses, even though he shouldn’t (because he knows why you’re here, so he can’t exactly get depressed when other people bring it up), “Yeah. They will.”

“For a while, I thought you’d marry my brother,” Falin says suddenly. Eyes sharp on Kabru’s figure.

Marcille guffaws, “Why would you say that?”

She shrugs before letting her eyes relax to their usual serene state, “They get along well. And Laios likes him. Laios doesn’t usually like people.”

“I guess you have a point,” Marcille waves a figurative flag before gesturing to the room around them, “But we’re not planning their wedding.”

“Yeah…” Falin sighs like she’s the one most disappointed.

Kabru says nothing, only returning to the list of ale and wine suppliers eager to vend for the upcoming royal wedding. His eyes skim names he’s heard various reviews for, but his brain takes none of them in. Rather, he’s fixated on what Falin said.

She could see it?

Could they have gotten married?

If Kabru forgot you completely, or even better never met you, could it be him stepping up to the altar? Would Laios have him?

Laios doesn’t usually like people. but in crowded meetings, it's solely Kabru that Laios searches for. And it’s the sight of Kabru that makes Laios sigh in relief. And it’s the sound of Kabru’s voice that Laios waits for before delivering a response.

At dinner, back when they ate together before you monopolized mealtimes, Laios always ensured Kabru had twice his fill before calling it a night.

(“Even though we’re not fighting in a dungeon anymore, I still think you should retain your strength.”

“You sound like you just like watching me eat.”

“Maybe that, too. You have a nice mouth.”

Kabru never responded to that, too petrified over the implications. Now he thinks he probably should have, maybe it would have meant he’d be marrying a king.)

Falin was right in that Laios doesn’t take to people easily, and he’s sure that’s all she meant. But Kabru knows that her statement is a criminal oversimplification of Laios.

Laios likes people so much he’s gone on potentially endless, potentially fruitless, endeavors for them. Laios likes people so much he makes them harpy eggs because they seem minorly interested in monster cuisine. Laios likes people so much he makes sure they’re treated with the utmost dignity. Laios loves people, and suddenly the thought of you becoming one of those select people is getting harder to grieve.

Laios’ love is not limited, but now Kabru’s forced to come to terms with the fact that Laios’ romantic love for him is--

“So, did you pick yet?” Marcille and Falin are swatching fabrics from the cushy loveseat of the main library, “I’ve heard of a roach outbreak in Smisson’s breweries, so I hope you didn’t get attached.”

Kabru jolts upright and shakes his head, saying the first dumb thing he can think of, “I heard of that, too.”

Falin giggles, “He’s the one that told you about it, Marcille.”

“Huh? You’re kidding!” a furious blush overtakes the elf, “I’m sorry, I don’t know how I forgot that!”

Kabru shakes his head again, swallowing roughly, “It’s fine.”

Really, it’s all fine.

Year 513

“Everyone wanted to be here,” Kabru chuckles quietly, as if raising his voice could somehow wake the entire Island.

“I’m sure,” there’s no hint of sarcasm in your voice, “They were with me late last night, so… I didn’t really expect anyone to see me off,” you giggle softly, a hollow sound he doesn’t take very kindly, “I’m surprised you made it.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything you gave the party,” with no decorum he scratches the back of his neck, and avoids looking you in the face, “It’ll be harder in the dungeon without you.”

“I believe in you.”

His breath hitches. He looks at you. A barely-there smile and tired eyes. It may be the most honest he’s seen you. He’s tempted to ask how you meant that ‘you’, but doesn’t.

He doesn’t even speak until you’re boarded -- until he’s forced to raise his voice so you can hear him over a bustling crew and fellow passengers.

“If I send letters, will you read them?” Kabru silences you before you can open your mouth, “Will you respond?”

Then, you’re smiling wider, and your eyes are tight with joy. It isn’t the usual siren cant of droopy lids, it’s pure elation. You’re laughing at his question, shoulders bouncing gleefully. You’re nodding. You speak between chortles, as if he asked you what color the sky was.

“Of course, I will!”

You look more beautiful than he’s ever seen you before.

“Okay, I’ll write you, then.”

“You better!”

Your ship rocks as it sets off from the dock, but you don’t disappear beneath the ridge. In fact, you almost hang over it, torso flattening against wood and nails digging for purchase as you wave.

Kabru waves back. He runs down the dock like a fool, barely catching himself from tumbling into the lapping ocean.

“Bye, Kabru!” you’re still smiling, bathed in soft orange and soothing yellow -- your voice grows distant over crashing waves, “I’ll miss you!”

He keeps waving. He waves and he waves and he doesn’t stop until your ship is behind the horizon. Only then does his hand fall to his side, eyes sopping wet and chest squeezing.

He feels pathetic.

He misses you already.

Year 515

Days prior this morning, the grand hall was cleared out -- pews replaced the needlessly long cherry oak dining table. Flowers plotted in tall carved vases with white lace and silk choking the necks, a velvet track from the altar through open doors to the courtyard. People from across the continents were invented, diplomats to friendly nobles to acquaintances Laios does not remember to true friends to your father and brother and Falin.

(“You don’t want to invite your parents?” Kabru re-evaluates his list of guests, “Seems uncouth, no?”

“What do I care?” Laios’ legs are splayed, thighs pressing against either side of the gold throne, “A wedding is meant to be happy, why would I need people I don’t like there?” he knocks a fist back into Kabru’s chest, letting his knuckles linger over the man’s heart only as long as he can say, “I have you, and my betrothed, and my friends. Really, that’s all I need.”

“It’d be rude to- ”

“I get it,” Laios’ hand falls back onto his armrest, fingertips skimming the rounded metal edge, “This is why I’m leaving it to you, I trust you.”)

Out of all the tedious preparation, dressing Laios was the most tragic in that the king hated everything the handmaids and servants stuffed him in. Countless hours were wasted before they begged Kabru to help, only then did the king settle:

No crown, terminally unsurprising, since Laios abhorred the weight and feel of it on his head. Rather, he would adorn himself with that dreadful Winged Lion’s pelt, and a vermillion cotehardie reaching mid-thigh with gold trim. Leather belt tethered around his waist gave the fabric shape whilst holding up loose britches. Daggered teeth of various beasts lined his neck, which Kabru was privy to each and every complaint over the sensory nightmare they provided. He’s sure as soon as Laios can, he’ll be tearing the necklace off.

Dressing himself, regardless of Laios’ multiple emphatic encouragements, was a similar exercise in disaster:

It felt massively inappropriate to wear something so shiny and attractive as gold on another man’s wedding night, even as Laios insisted Kabru wear whatever he pleased. Still, Kabru chose silver earrings and accents. Sparkling and flattering, yes, but nothing so bold. He did splurge with a sapphire blue kirtie that made his eyes shine brighter, and a simple chain of pearls. He felt attractive, and joyous.

Joyous for tonight. Joyous for a wedding! Yes, simply so ecstatic for tonight’s marriage.

Truthfully, Kabru is so overjoyed for his king, he really could just fucking die.

From joy. And happiness.

Because what makes it even better is how you look happy. Actually happy. No low gaze or siren simper, just pure, carefree merriment as you link hands with Laios. Reciting vows from a flushed, teary-eyed Marcille. Neither of you has that gleam or honeydew sparkle of pure love, but Kabru is good at his job: zero doubt swims in his mind that you two will be a pair truly enamored with each other.

His misery must be unfiltered in the back of the grand hall, far behind the rest of the wedding party, because Rin’s dark eyes are piercing through the side of his skull. She’s frowning up at him, arms folded.

She murmurs, “You should’ve said something.”

Kabru grins at her sardonically, “I should’ve broken up their engagement? You didn’t even like us interacting when they were in our party.”

“That’s- !” her cheeks stain red, an annoyed huff rattling her whole body, “They never told you why they rejected you, right?”

Kabru’s silence is answer enough. It’s also more unsettling to Rin than any dungeon monster she’d encountered.

“They knew that I wanted you,” Rin clears her throat, embarrassment trying to choke her into silence, but she overcomes it for the sake of her friend, “So, out of respect, you were refused and never told why.”

Kabru loves Rin, as a sister. He loves her so much he’d kill for her, because she’s like his sister. He loves her so so so much that he cannot even be mad at her, because part of him always considered her somewhat to blame for your rejection of him.

For an agonizing, silent few seconds, Kabru just stares down at her with those crystalline eyes. Blinking himself from his stupor, Kabru asks the dumbest question he could think of, “Did they want to say yes?”

Rin’s frown deepens, forehead wrinkling, “Is that something you really want to know?”

Laios is a terrible kisser, and out of respect you cover your mouths with a hand as he maps out your lips with eyes clenched. Kabru told him not to close his eyes too early, and naturally Laios did not listen. Thankfully you’re there, hiding Laios’ possible humiliation with one hand and guiding him with your other on his jaw.

“No,” Kabru sighs, “Not really.”

That’s the biggest lie he might’ve ever told Rin.

Still she pats his back sympathetically, even laying her head against his shoulder.

Celebration begins, food laid free for grabbing and wine flowing like water -- especially into Kabru’s gaping maw. It's sour on his tongue, but as far as he’s seen it's him alone that scrunches his face and shakes out his hair at the taste, which only has him feeling crazier.

“Isn’t this foul?” Kabru scoffs, slumped over one of the many strewn tables in the general ballroom, cramped posture making him seem smaller. Ordinarily this is embarrassing. Ordinarily he’s not drunk.

“I don’t notice anything,” Chilchuck swigs from the clear chalice in his hand.

Marcille takes a civilized sip for herself, unspoken concern that their friend’s taste in alcohol is not utmost dependable, “I don’t notice anything either.”

Kabru swirls his wine, staring into the dark spiral and wondering if a bug of some type sensed his grim mood and decided to drown itself and poison his cup.

“I’m going to get a new drink, then,” Kabru rises, bidding the pair well as he guns for the barrels of frothy ale.

People cheer and clack maizers, spilling various toxic cures onto the floor making his shoes stick with loud clicks. Something he doesn’t bother with knowing Laios will seek him out once the stains are discovered.

Laios, Laios, Laios: speaking of.

Kabru’s gaze floats across the party to find his king, who is staring off with hands fidgeting in the drape of his Winged Lion’s pelt as your father speaks. An unfortunate sight, one he’s itching to rectify when a lengthy gown flows into his vision.

Dashing and soft and yours.

Sage fabric glides along the floor, intricately sewn floral trim skittering along the ground. Flowers of lace and yarn decorate the bust and sleeves, even a crown of colorful buds blooms atop your head. Rings of gold link around your fingers. Hair swept away to unveil your face, coiled and braided with, unbelievably, more flowers dancing between the tresses. Faint lavender and tangerine lingers around you in a hypnotizing haze, culling lovestruck head-turns of men and women with your every step.

“Your husband’s alone with your father.”

“They’ll come out alive, or we’ll hear them killing each other,” you pull out a seat at the longest central table and gesture to the chair directly beside you, “Sit. We never got to properly catch up.”

Kabru sees you have wine. He suddenly craves the sour grape flavor (maybe all he was missing was the sensation of licking it off your lips). From what he remembers, Laios was holding wine as well. Kabru considers stretching out to steal a second taste.

Although, sugary enough is the sound of your voice, suddenly his fresh mug of ale is entirely forgotten.

“Kabru?”

You’re so pretty, Kabru could tear his eyes out now and not miss a single greater sight. Especially when you’re -again- bathed in the pouring gold sunlight through grand windows, tranquil beside him at the long table. As if there isn’t a single other spot you prefer, you sit right next to him with a chalice of the worst wine he’s ever had.

“Hey, Kabru…”

His hands shake with the need to hold you. Chest raging with his uncontrollable heartbeat. His head hurts with the knowledge that there really isn’t a place he prefers more than by you (even if he’s forced to drink alcohol so foul it's comparable to sewage).

“Kabru,” your touch startles him, pout and knitted brows capturing his whole attention, “You’re not even listening to me!” you laugh, shaking off his incompetence so easily it makes him want to thank you with a kiss, “Are you drunk?”

“Huh?” he lowers his head into his hands, “Yes,” he lies to you, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Poor thing, I thought you were better at holding your liquor.”

“Your memory is fading…”

“Oh, well, suppose me and the king will have to tuck you in. Make sure you get to bed safely without bumping into anything expensive.”

Kabru gags, pushing himself up from his seat and dashing towards the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach (wine, mead, beer, and beer’s good brother ale).

Tears sting his eyes, snot beginning to leak from his nose as he spits into the toilet bowl. You and the king. The king and you. You and Laios: married. Perfect union. And Kabru did it all to himself. He wanted so desperately to drink himself under the table to forget, and you just had to go reminding him.

You are the worst person he’s ever met, and so is Laios! Your commitment to respect is disgusting, and Laios’ trust in him is an absolute travesty. You two should just hurry up and keel over instead of shoving your romance in Kabru’s face; and if either of you ever thanks him for setting you up then he’ll gut you both that very instant.

Laios and you are terrible, awful, no good devils -- and he wants you both so bad he’s vomiting in the bathroom on your wedding night.

Maybe he can send you both off on a honeymoon? Yes, yes. And while you’re away, he’ll drown in responsibility by day and pretty faces by night. Upon your return, he’ll have forgotten he was ever smitten.

No, who is he kidding? That would be a pointless venture.

You’d be so giddy to tell Kabru allllll about your trip while Laios would show off trinkets he picked up with that charming smile, Kabru would fall right back here. Puking and crying. He should just resign totally. Rot away in bed and die so he never has to see either of you again.

How cowardly.

How unbecoming.

Kabru could kick himself.

Rin was in his position more or less (...less, though, definitely less) and still had the nerve to face him every day for years. She didn’t run away, and she didn’t make her party suffer because of her feelings -- so how could Kabru extend the kingdom’s wellbeing over his? Without him, Laios would socially drown with a village chief’s firstborn as a life preserver.

You’re smart and well-versed in reading others, but you’re not Kabru for God’s sake. You can’t apply half of what you know, not to mention you don’t even care to learn.

Wiping off his mouth and flushing the toilet, Kabru stumbles toward the doorway with a prayer in his pocket to find water soon.

Returning to the chipper scene, Kabru can instantaneously spot Laios flagging him down, with his spare hand curved into the base of your spine.

He dodges you both and retires to bed. Lightheaded and miserable, he’s asleep quickly.

Then, suddenly, he’s not.

He’s outside Laios’ room.

Did his feet carry him here subconsciously? How pathetic…

Kabru is fully prepared to turn back and amble to his room when there’s a sound from the other side of the door. A sharp gasp and whine, then your giggling, and Laios’ voice pleading for you to be nice to him. More murmuring, then a soft moan. A lofty sigh.

Song of a consummation.

Foolishly, Kabru hadn’t thought that your sex life was something he’d have to encounter directly. And despite knowing he should step away, if not out of honor then at least to preserve his own heart, Kabru’s curiosity bolts him to the floor.

He’s never seen Laios fuck.

He’s never seen you fuck, either.

He feels compelled to study -- how does your subdued front mesh with Laios’ eager hands? Which of you takes control? With his bigger size and more powerful title, one would assume Laios, but Kabru bets it's you. Will you make him wait? Would he dive between your thighs with fervor? How will the lip stain your ladies painted you with look slathered across Laios’ pale skin?

Despite knowing what it says about his character, Kabru stays. On some level to get it through to himself that you two are together and off-limits; and on a deeper, truer level because he’s sick in the head.

As was the plan anyway, until a booming, “Hey!” echoes from down the dim hall. A guardsman fast approaching from his patrol route. Kabru’s face is hidden by the dark, figure easily mistaken for a passing servant. But even if the guard could recognize him, would it matter?

What reason does the royal advisor have for lingering outside his king’s chambers so late into the night?

Lies fly through Kabru’s brain as the guard bristles closer, none of them plausible. Finally, the idea of killing this man cycles through his mind, and he reconciles with the fact that must be his only option to avoid an obscenity charge.

“Oh, you came!” a soft hand lands between Kabru’s shoulder blades, voice floating past him and to the guard now two feet away, “Thank you for your faithful service, but don’t concern yourself with him. Our king summoned him,” your laugh soothes Kabru’s tensed muscles, “I wasn’t sure he’d make it because of the hour.”

Kabru stares at you, not bothering to hide his confused, jaw-hanging stare as the guard retreats to his typical patrol.

A thin silk robe drapes over you, loosely tied at the waist and exposing much of your chest.

“I never took you for a pervert, Kabru,” such a mellow voice makes even your scalding accusation sound sweet. You whirr him around by the arm and lug him into yours and Laios’ newly shared room. All proprieties trapped outside but trepidation slithers through, lodging in his gullet.

Laios lays on the bed, exposed completely. Tousled sheets bunched between his hands and under his thighs. Cheeks flushed redder than the head of his cock, hard and slapped against his stomach. Wide spread thighs and heaving chest bountiful eye candy.

“How’d you know it was him?” Laios sounds devastatingly breathless, eyes low and ruby lips swollen.

“Hunch,” you answer plainly, petting down Kabru’s arm until your fingers lace with his.

Kabru murmurs your name, wide eyed. You knew?

Of course, you knew. How could he have thought anything else? Your calm nature about the whole ordeal solidifies that you must’ve known for a long while. Longer than him, even. When would you have figured it out?

“He’s beautiful,” you perch your chin on Kabru’s shoulder, cooing into his ear, “You were always so focused on his face, you’ve never gotten to see anything beneath his clothes, have you?”

Oh, right. The very first day you got here, obviously.

Laios rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, brows pinching in frustration, heated gaze straying from Kabru to you, “He’s going to touch me, right?”

“Depends,” your hands skim up Kabru’s spine, nudging him forward, “Kabru, do you want to touch your king?” one arm glides around his front, fingers toying with the band of his trousers, “And myself?”

“Uhhh…” can he be honest with himself? Can he lay himself bare before not one, but two people? Two people he’s interested in above all else. Heat laps from the barrel of his chest, scorching from cheeks to ears to forehead as sweat beads along his hairline and the back of his neck.

“I asked a question. I need a response.”

Laios’ cock twitches against his abdomen, throat croaking around desire.

“Yes,” Kabru exhales, heavy, barbed, and thorny, cutting him up inside until he’s too weak to stand. Sinking onto the mattress by his knees, “I will.”

Laios’ eyes flick from Kabru’s face down to his weepy erection.

He wants Laios in his mouth. Wants the warmth slapping his tongue, burrowing towards the cinch of his throat. He wants to grope the bulge his king forces through his neck and feel your hands buried in his dark hair. The latter need is fulfilled, your fingers combing through dark curls to push him into your husband’s crotch.

“What a pretty mouth, Kabru, you love to run it,” you climb onto the bed beside him, holding Laios steady by the base, “Try something new, hm?”

“New is- ”

“Try it, Kabru. Now,” regardless of the choppy demand, your voice remains dulcet. Pillowy and fluffy. He could melt into your sound.

His tongue lolls to slather the underside of Laios’ cock with hot saliva, enveloping the man in his mouth. Cheeks hollowing and lashes batting wetly up at the king, crimson deepening on Laios’ face. Behind him, the mattress dips and shakes, Laios’ eyes jumping from baby blues to over Kabru’s back, hips jerking against his chin.

Your hand lifts from inky hair, curls slipping between your fingers in vain attempts to tether you against his skull. Now both your palms run up Laios’ chest as you mold against his side. Your thighs spread around one of his arms and robe nowhere to be found, painted lips smear rouge up Laios’ neck and cheek before you claim his lips.

One of Laios’ hands cradles Kabru’s head, not rudely pushing nor wrangling his hair, just an affectionate reminder of whose cock is in his throat. Meanwhile, the hand between your thighs crooks towards your heat, middle finger ringing your clit -- earning a jump and heave from you.

Laios coaxes Kabru off, winded as he requests, “Can you two kiss? Please?”

Kabru gives the king no time to abjure before he’s spearing you with attention, not that you’re more patient; hurriedly cupping his cheeks and legs spreading to welcome him between. Sat up enough to give Laios a proper view, Kabru fondles your ass as you happily cram your lips to his. He wonders if your lip stain wipes off on him as well. He hopes it does.

“So beautiful,” Laios muses stroking his cock, casually flicking his wrist and thumbing the head, as you reach for Kabru’s.

Kabru’s lips sear down your neck, urged to bite. He does not.

“Soft, right?” Laios lays his head against your shoulder, poking obnoxiously into Kabru’s space (not that he minds), “Still sweet with wine.”

You taste better than the fucking wine.

Does Laios?

Your lips curl, drifting away just to whisper against his lips, “Would you like to kiss the king?”

“Can I?”

Before you can reaffirm, Laios snatches Kabru by the chin to kiss him.

Laios is not sweet like wine, he tastes like beer and salt and iron from a raw lip, and yet Kabru cannot drink him down fast enough.

Hands, big and calloused and sweltering, brand Kabru’s hips -- spinning him around to face the door as you unwork the man’s nightshirt. Tossing the flowy cloth aside, you press a final kiss to Kabru’s lips, before laying out beneath him.

Kabru’s eyes hone on the honeydew slick glossing your slit, hands scrambling for perch on your bracketing thighs as Laios’ settle on his ass. Anticipation builds and flows out of his mouth, rich and thick and in the form of a lashing tongue. Broad and cozy, Kabru sweeps up your cunt, thumbs parting you for the purest taste. Audible sighs fan over your pelvis in time with Laios burying his spit-slick fingers into Kabru’s hole.

A groan vibrates through your hips, Kabru’s electric eyes flashing over the quiver in your thighs as you grind onto his nose. Both hands knotting through his hair.

Fingers prod inside you, curling toward your stomach before scissoring apart just to noisily slurp out leaking wetness.

Burly hands rearrange Kabru again, manhandling him until he’s got his back against Laios’ chest with legs thrown out across the bed. Exhilaration surges through Kabru’s whole body, extremities jittering and whines dribbling down his lips. Slowly, he’s lowered onto Laios’ cock with teeny rasps inspiring you to grab him by the shoulders. Again, sweet lips meet his, but he realizes the ploy quickly: torturous pleasure rips through his gut as you push him back to prime for riding.

Laios’ hand finds your chest, tweaking your nipple while snapping his hips up. Pounding into Kabru’s clenching hole in time that you sink down on the poor man.

Over Kabru’s shoulder, you and Laios swap spit with noisy kisses and if he weren’t sweating ecstasy then maybe he’d find the power to be embarrassed over his desperation to join. Regardless of getting his brains ground into mush by your combined, incessant pistoning, Kabru finds himself giddy to be involved further.

You’re purposeful and elegant; excruciating, tantalizing bounces with nails digging into the meat of Kabru’s chest. As if you could easily tear him apart, only dangling in front of him like a carrot-drawn-horse.

Laios is frantic and overwhelming; hips unrelenting and thick muscled arms belting Kabru against him. Skin clapping skin, moist with sweat, and fat rippling from the impacts of Laios’ fucking. Each thrust into Kabru sends him rocketing further inside you; bulging deep, deep in your squelching cunt.

Contrasting in all ways -- your hands pet and scratch while Laios’ anchor and tug, you moan and mewl while Laios groans and growls. When you’re not kissing your husband you impress downy lips upon Kabru’s chest while Laios tears bruises from his neck with full teeth.

Passion swells each suck and stroke and pap, pap, pap until Kabru’s bursting from the inside out. He keens, body tensing.

“Breathe,” Laios huffs into his ear, voice low and crackling, “Breathe, it feels better when you don’t tighten up.”

Kabru heeds, blowing hot air across your bare chest as he cums, and you coo, “Good boy.”

A slush of your combined juices cascades, soaking and matting Kabru’s pubes. Wetting his and Laios’ balls. Three hard rams and Laios is spilling inside Kabru as well. Pants and gulps echoing around the room.

Reclining against the headboard, Laios slowly pulls your exhausted body off Kabru before slipping his cock out of the man. Each of you is fully aware the hygienic option is to wash yourselves, change the sheets, and maybe even comb through messy heads of hair.

None of you do, though.

Laios, grinning bright and alluring as the sun, has an arm nestled around both you and Kabru to keep you flush against his sides. Your head finds a pillow in your husband’s chest, Kabru copying the motion. Swamped exhales pass between yours and Kabru’s blissed out faces, but only measured breaths pull a serene rise and fall from Laios. Drool even leaks from the corner of Kabru’s mouth, he groans in disgust but can’t manage the strength to wipe it away. Neither can you, exhaustion poisoning you from the knees up.

A careful thumb dabs the spittal away, only to grossly end up smearing it across Kabru’s shoulder when Laios replaces his hand on the man’s bare arm.

“How…” Kabru shudders for breath, “Why…” his eyes flutter drowsily, “Not tired…?”

“I didn’t do much,” Laios reasons (whether he genuinely thinks that or is bluffing, nobody can be sure), voice low as he notices you’re beginning to drift asleep, “Wore yourselves out, though.”

“Still…” Kabru huffs defiantly, yawning against the moist valley between Laios’ pecs, “I… more stamina…”

“Ass,” you drowsily pitch in, eyes closed and lashes stark against your cheeks.

“Ass?” Laios looks down at Kabru.

“Ass,” Kabru yawns again, now capable of slurring full sentences together with his breath sufficiently caught, “First time taking it in the ass. Probably took more out of me than I expected…”

“You should’ve said something,” Laios lours, “Even monsters like Orcs that have sex for pleasure stretch their partners more than I did. It helps prevent tearing. I wish I could’ve seen more mating rituals before getting cursed.”

“You could read more…”

Kabru’s too tired to negate your yawn of a suggestion. He doesn’t need to before Laios mutters again, seconds away from passing out altogether,

“I’ve read about them a lot, I just wanted to see it for myself.”

Year 515. Some days later.

Laios suddenly turns in his throne, angling his body towards Kabru, “You think I can make polyamorous marriage legal?”

“Why?” Kabru’s sure he knows exactly where the king’s head is, he just wants to hear the man say it.

Sticking out his thumb, index, and middle finger, Laios scrunches the digits towards his palm twice, “Aren’t we all getting married?”

“You’ll have to ask your real spouse about that first.”

“I did.”

“Huh?!” that makes Kabru’s heart explode, blood and meat blowing through his orifices. Teasing Laios is easy now that he more clearly understands the man’s motives, but you?

You’re intimidating even after he’s been inside you, he doesn’t know how Laios can so casually ask you something like that (he does though, it’s due to Laios’ many loose screws).

“I already asked about us marrying you.”

“And…?”

“They thought it was a good idea!” Laios shakes off, as if Kabru should have just known you would go along with your husband’s insanity, “So, can I legalize it?”

“Probably,” Kabru settles a hand over his chest, hoping to calm his racing heart (or what remains, anyway), “I’ll look into it.”

“Yay! Thank you!”

~~~

kabru miserablism POV my beloved

beast laios and fae reader and treasure kabru imagery makes me so hard

#laios touden x reader #kabru x reader #laios x kabru #labru x reader #laios x reader x kabru #laios touden smut #kabru smut #dungeon meshi x reader #i spent so long staring at this thing i don't wanna look at it anymore omg

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miley1442111 · 7 months ago

Text

accidents- r.cameron

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pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: videos from the past resurface and it doesn't go well for your new relationship with rafe

warnings: kissing, toxic relationship, rafe is confused, cursing, drinking, suggestive mentions, mentions of rafe's addictions, mention of sobriety streak being broken, topper is an asshole, (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Rafe slowly walked into your bedroom. He had no idea what he was doing there, and it scared him. God, why did Topper ever speak? None of this would’ve happened if he’d just kept his mouth shut.

----------------

Three days earlier…

Rafe watched as you smiled at him across the crowded room. You were so beautiful, so radiant, so real, so his. Everyone knew you were Rafe Cameron’s girl, and in turn everyone knew Rafe was yours, even if you two hadn’t had ‘the conversation’ yet. Rafe wanted you more than anything, Rafe wanted you so much it had started to freak him out. He found himself being kinder, softer, and a lot more calm while he was around you, and even when he wasn’t around you. It felt good. Less people feared him. More people started to see him as a person, not this ‘unreal figure’ on the island. But Rafe was aware of what people said about you now that you two were together. He saw how some girls looked at you, he noticed how guys talked to you, and he always overheard people telling you that he fucked girls and tossed them to the side like they were nothing. He was just hoping that you wouldn’t listen.

The last three months had been nice, the dates and the parties, but you were getting impatient. You wanted to be Rafe’s girlfriend, not just Rafe’s situationship. Rafe was great, despite the rumours from other people, and he was 5 months clean next week. He was a good guy, you knew that, and that’s what mattered to you.

“Y/n!” Pope called you over as you scanned the beach for either Rafe or one of the pogues. He grabbed your hand and you ran with him, following as he led you to the outskirts of the party. It was a clear night and the stars were too pretty not to admire as you sat by the campfire beside your friends. Jokes were made, stories were told, and-

“Hey,” Rafe’s voice cut through the laughter and everyone’s heads turned. “I was wondering if we could talk?” His eyes were focused on you. This was awkward and uncomfortable for him. He had apologised, yes, but he was still hated by your friend group because of what he did to you and the rest of them. You’d gotten it the worst though, when he had stabbed you over the gold. You’d almost died. Granted, Rafe has apologised, but that was before you two started… whatever your relationship was, and you hadn’t brought it up since. You didn’t really want to considering the fact that when you two finally had sex, he’d see the scar on your lower right abdomen and know he caused it. It would break his heart. Rafe was a lot more sensitive than people thought and that's partly why you’d been putting off having sex. You knew he’d get upset.

“Yeah sure,” you smiled, taking his hand and getting up, then turning back to the group. “I’ll be back in a few, ok?”

“Don’t lose her!” John B shouted.

“Or we’ll kill you!” Jj added, a completely real threat as you chuckled.

“He’s joking,” you assured an uneasy Rafe.

“I’m not joking!” Jj shouted again.

You both walked a little faster.

“Umm ok so… how do I say this? Top- he’s totally drunk and I-I’m freaking out right now. H-he gave me a drink a-and I thought it was just sparkling water but it had v-vodka in it, a-and now my sober streak is gone and-” Rafe buried his face in your neck, tears spilling over as his panic reached concerning levels.

“Baby, it’s ok,” you cooed. “It was just a sip, and it was only an accident. We can start again, you can start again. This was only a wobble,” you assured him, your hands rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder. “Please don’t beat yourself or Topper overt this, we all make mistakes.”

He nodded as he sobbed into your neck, hearing your words. How was it that you could calm him down so instantly, so completely? It wasn’t fair. He’d needed you his whole life, and he only got you now? Bullshit. Well, he’d take what he could get. “I love you,” He whispered and you went rigid.

Every bone heavy, every muscle tense, blood frozen. Holy shit.

Rafe Cameron was in love with you. What were you supposed to do? Say it back? You weren’t sure your mouth would open. “Hey pogue?” Topper’s voice cut through the deafening silence and brought you back down to Earth. “What the fuck do you think he’s doing with you?” he chuckled, drink in his hand and a bitter tone in his voice. “He’s going to tell you all his problems, and then he’s going to tell you that he loves you, and then he’ll fuck you a few times, probably be the best fuck of your life, and kick you to the curb!” he laughed. “Rafe Cameron strikes again!”

Check, and check. The sex was probably coming later. You felt used.

“Topper what the fuck man?” Rafe turned drying his eyes. “Do you even know how I feel about her?”

“Yes I do, I remember the words being ‘easy’, ‘sweet’, and ‘virgin’. I still have the video,” Topper pulled out his video,scrolling for a moment as your heart slowly cracked.

“What about her?” Topper had pointed at you in the video, it was at some party a few months ago. “Y/n Y/l/n.”

“She’s sweet and easy Top, come on, give me a challenge and someone who isn’t a virgin fucking prude,” Rafe laughed and the video continued of them rating girls from the island.

God, you hated Topper right now. You hated Rafe right now.

“Oh,” was all you got out before you started walking off, Rafe on your tail.

“Look I-I’m sorry alright? I didn’t think about it, I didn’t even know you then! And I was drunk and Topper always brings out the worst in me, o-ok? So we can just go back t-to normal, right? You’ll be my girlfriend?” he pleaded but you kept walking, your heart shattering as he kept talking. “I love you!”

You stopped in your tracks. “I just need… time, ok? Just give me a few days to work this out, ok?”

He nodded, tears pooling in his eyes.

What the fuck were you going to do?

----------------

“Hey,” he sat down beside you. “I’m so sorry about what I said.”

“It’s ok Rafe,” you shrugged. “Maybe sometimes people just aren’t meant to be.”

His head whipped around to make eye contact with you. Seriously? You were seriously thinking of leaving him? “What?” He whispered, the lump in his throat almost too big to swallow.

“Rafe… come on. How am I supposed to have any peace of mind in your actual intentions when it stemmed from that video?” You sighed. Rafe was busy staring at admiring you. You were so beautiful, so smart, so… everything he wanted.

You didn’t think it would hurt him. He’d broken up with tons of girls, you shouldn't be any different.

You watched as a tear escaped his eye, how he bit the side of his cheek, and how he picked at the skin on his fingers.

Oh.

Maybe he did care. Or maybe it was an act. You weren’t sure.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I meant that when I said it. And Topper’s wrong, I don’t just tell girls I love them. I’ve never told anyone that. Just you.”

Your breath hitched and you took his hand to stop him from picking until it bled. “Calm down Rafe,” you whispered. “It’s ok.”

If being near you calmed him down, having you touch him must’ve been the most soothing and tranquil experience of his life. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, tears falling. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, I love you and I-I can’t lose you. Please let me make it up to you, I’ll be better for you, I swear-”

“I’m not leaving you,” you whispered, making a split-second decision you weren’t sure you’d regret. “I love you too Rafe.”

He looked up and you wiped some tears away. He smiled, then pulled you into his arms and kissed you softly. You loved being like this, kissing him, holding him, being with him. It was all perfect. His hand brushed your waist and lingered over the scar. He pulled away, sighing and scared, then pulled your shirt up slightly.

Rafe wanted to sob the second he saw it. He loved you, all of you, so he needed to see it and get over it himself. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, staring at it. “I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “People grow, Rafe. People change. It hurt, yes, but I survived. You survived. Life isn’t going to stop just because we’re upset about something, so don’t feel… held back by the past. I’ve accepted it, and you need to as well.”

He pressed his lips to yours again, and smiled for the first time in three days.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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gold-onthe-inside · 3 days ago

Text

a pearl

who? spencer reid (post-prison) x fem!reader based on: a pearl by mitski (and also pearl diver also by mitski) written for: @mggslover's event lyrics: “You’re growing tired of me. You love me so hard and I still can’t sleep/Sorry, I can’t take your touch. It’s not that I don’t want you.” word count: 0.9k content warnings: mentions cat adams, reference to addiction/drugs & sobriety

He stared at the flickering flame in the living room, knowing he’s left your sleeping frame upstairs, and rubbed the sobriety chip between his thumb and forefinger, and he remembers the moment he had fallen in love with your smile, a warm saccharine thing that had brightened your whole face when he tried to pull a coin from behind your ear, but it hadn’t worked, only for you to find it in your pockets. He hasn’t made you smile like that in a while. Not in 3 months, 20 days, and 14 hours. Not since Cat Adams had made it her mission to ruin his life, and yours along with him. This year had just been the tip of a long-building iceberg of issues that you kept having to put up with because of him.

And sure, things were okay now. His mom was in a good home in DC, always a call and a drive away. They had gotten his murder conviction overturned. He was supposed to be safe. Then why did he feel this uneasy all the time?

He’s so lost in himself, the firelight reflecting in his soft and worried hazel eyes, that he doesn’t hear you coming down the stairs, doesn’t see the cute donut pyjamas that usually make his heart melt, and physically flinches when you touch his shoulder, the chip in his hand falling to the floor. “Sorry,” you said instantly, “I didn’t mean to… You just weren’t in bed, I wanted to make sure you were—”

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too sharply, and usually, you’re better at controlling your expressions, but it’s 2 in the morning and you’re tired, so the concern is visible on your sleepy face.

“Honey, you don’t seem fine,” you said softly, approaching him like he was a skittish horse.

He let out a breath, bending down to pick up the sobriety token, while you wait and watch him straighten. “Can we not do this right now?” he asked, sounding tired, and he can see your concern deepen, adding another wrinkle to your brow, the corners of your lips turning down. He can see the battle that rages inside you every day, every time he acts like this — do you confront him? Do you put your foot down like you had all those years ago when he was coming to work while in withdrawal? What would it take for you to finally retaliate?

“Okay,” you said, in your gentle but firm way, looking at him evenly. “Two choices. We sit here and talk, or you come back upstairs with me and get some sleep. Either way, I’m not going back up without you.” Your arms come up to cross against your chest in what you think is a firm, decisive position to take, but Spencer’s sorely tempted to smile at you, and then his heart sinks all over again. It must have come up on his face because your arms start to fall and you walked over to pull him to sit next to you on the couch. “Sweetheart, will you please just tell me what’s going on with you?” you asked, and you think your heart might crawl out of your throat when Spencer pulled his hands away from yours.

“It’s nothing,” he said, and you can see his body closing off, all your work to bring him out of his shell, to coax him into the sunlight, vanishing like smoke. “Everything’s, you know, it’s fine. The team’s fine, my mom’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Which means it’s only a matter of time before things aren’t fine again,” you said, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “Right?” You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t felt it too — the panic in the middle of the night when he’s not there, the reminder you have to give yourself that he’s not in prison anymore, that he’s safe.

“I’m so tired,” he told you, his eyes falling to your hands, where you were gripping each other for fear of reaching out to him again. He was tired of waiting to get the phone call saying his mom was gone. Tired of the nightmares. Tired of feeling afraid in a house that was supposed to be his refuge.

“Sweetheart, you can’t rest when your body still thinks it’s on the run,” you told him gently.

“Then how do I get it to stop?” he asked you, a hint of desperation rising into his throat, causing his words come out more broken and shaky than he meant for them to, and it just made his chest ache more.

You leaned closer, pressing your forehead against his and cupping his cheek, feeling the light stubble on his jaw. "Stay here," you whispered. "In this moment. You and me. Nothing else."

“In this moment,” he echoed, his voice soft and quiet, barely more than a whisper. “You and me, and nothing else.” A hint of a smile spread across his lips, and you pressed a butterfly kiss to the corner before laying your head on his shoulder while he slid his arms around your waist. You don’t move, just eventually shift so you can both lay on the couch, the fire dying out into embers as he finally fell asleep to the rise and fall of your chest.

#lover's 1k event #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/m #spencer reid fic

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ikkyfics · 30 days ago

Text

Hair Bleach

Pietro Maximoff x f!reader

Summary: He was sitting on the kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out and his messy brown hair already partially covered by the bleach you were carefully applying. “Do you think it’ll look good?” he asked, his voice low and slightly rough, but carrying a playful tone that was so characteristic of him. “You’ve done this before, remember? It wasn’t exactly a disaster,” you replied, trying to focus as you spread the cream through his hair.

Warnings: fluffy, modern!au

Masterlist

Maybe it was the drink you both had earlier – that cheap wine Steve insisted on serving – or maybe it was just the laid-back atmosphere of the party, with Wanda’s laughter echoing through the room and the music that seemed like it would never stop. You weren’t exactly sure what had made you comment on his hair. Maybe it was a flash of memory, a detail lost in time.

“Do you remember when your hair was bleached?” you had asked, both still a little dizzy as you walked down the empty street, heading home.

He laughed, his voice rough and a little drawn out, clearly carrying the influence of the drinks. “Remember? Hard to forget. You loved messing with it.”

“I really did,” you admitted, feeling your face heat up. It was true, after all. Pietro with bleached hair had been almost a comical version of himself – always complaining about the upkeep, but knowing how much you liked it.

“Then why don’t we do it again?” he suggested, that carefree sparkle in his eyes that was so typical of him.

“Now?” you asked, laughing.

“Now,” he confirmed, with an unexpected determination.

And before you could protest, you were standing in front of a 24-hour pharmacy, arguing over which bleach brand would be best while laughing like two teenagers.

Now, in your apartment, the wine had given way to a comfortable sobriety. The apartment still smelled like the party, as if the echoes of the night you’d spent together refused to completely disappear. Dim lights filtered through the blinds, creating an almost theatrical contrast between the dark and the light. You were still in your party dress, a piece of fabric that seemed made for Pietro to look at you like that – his blue eyes sparkling, intense and sweet, as if the thought of looking away was unthinkable.

He was sitting on the kitchen counter, his long legs stretched out and his messy brown hair already partially covered by the bleach you were carefully applying. The black t-shirt was a little askew, revealing the outline of muscles you knew by heart, but that still made you blush as if it were the first time you saw them.

“Do you think it’ll look good?” he asked, his voice low and slightly rough, but carrying a playful tone that was so characteristic of him.

“You’ve done this before, remember? It wasn’t exactly a disaster,” you replied, trying to focus as you spread the cream through his hair.

He smiled, that grin that was a mix of mischief and tenderness, before tilting his head back, looking at you closely. “It wasn’t a disaster because you said it looked good. Everything you say looks good, I believe.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile that slipped out was inevitable. Pietro had that effect on you – an almost magical ability to turn the simplest moment into something that felt extraordinary.

“Stop moving your head,” you murmured, gently pushing his face into the right position.

“Hard to do. You’re here, looking gorgeous like this, talking to me as if I don’t want to kiss you every five seconds.”

“You’re already distracting me,” you shot back, but he didn’t seem in the least bit sorry.

“It’s part of my charm,” he replied before sliding one of his large hands to your waist. The touch was warm, firm, as if he needed to feel your presence there, just to make sure this was real.

“Pietro,” you complained quietly, but your voice lacked any strength. Not when his fingers were mindlessly tracing little circles against the fabric of your dress.

“Just one kiss,” he asked, leaning forward, his short beard brushing your cheek before he reached your lips with his.

It was a lazy kiss, but full of meaning. He had always been like that with you, direct in his feelings, with no room for doubt.

When he finally pulled away, you sighed, but the laughter that slipped out afterward was involuntary. “If I mess up, it’s because you can’t stay still. It’ll be your fault.”

“Then I’ll have to live with a permanently stained head,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I bet you’d still think I’m cute.”

“Maybe,” you teased, turning your attention back to his hair.

Your fingers slid carefully through the brown strands, now covered by the white bleach cream. The chemical smell filled the air, but it wasn’t enough to overshadow the sweetness that seemed to emanate from the moment. Pietro closed his eyes slowly, as if savoring a luxurious experience and not something as mundane as getting his hair bleached in the kitchen of your apartment. For the first time that night, he was quiet, allowing you to work in peace – at least in terms of words.

His hands, however, weren’t so easily quieted. One rested on your waist, the fingers unaware of the thin fabric of the dress you were still wearing, while the other moved up to your thigh, resting there with familiarity and a touch of affection. He wasn’t exactly distracting you, but he didn’t seem willing to let you forget he was there, that he needed to touch you – as if you might disappear if he wasn’t sure you were real.

The warmth of his touch was something you could feel even through the fabric, a constant reminder that he was near, that he was yours. And as much as you tried to focus on his hair, the bleach, the time it needed to work, it was impossible not to be affected.

“If this keeps up, I’m going to mess up,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

His lips curved into a lazy smile, his eyes still closed. “Doesn’t seem like I’m the one distracting you right now,” he replied, but didn’t move, just enjoying the feel of your fingers massaging his scalp.

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the soft sound of his breathing and the sensation of his hair under your fingers. For a moment, you lost yourself, the movements becoming slower and more careful. It was almost hypnotic – the texture of the strands, the warmth radiating from his skin, the way he seemed so absorbed in the touch, as if nothing else mattered.

And then you looked at him.

His face was relaxed, dark lashes contrasting against his pale skin, the stubble outlining the curve of his jaw. His chest rose and fell in a tranquil rhythm, as if he were on the verge of a light sleep, but the smile on his lips was still there, a small curve that seemed impossible to erase.

It was inevitable. You leaned in before you even realized what you were doing, your lips touching his in a gesture as natural as breathing. Pietro responded immediately, as if he had been waiting for this, his hands gently gripping your waist and thigh, pulling you closer.

The kiss started sweetly but quickly turned into something more. It wasn’t urgent, but it had an intensity that made your knees almost buckle. When you tried to pull away, his hands wouldn’t let you, holding you in place as if he wasn’t done yet.

“Wait,” you tried to protest against his lips, but the word came out muffled, without conviction.

It wasn’t until you felt something wet trickling down the side of your face that reality hit hard. “Pietro!” you exclaimed, laughing as you pulled away.

He opened his eyes, confused, but the smile quickly returned when he saw the white stain on the side of your hair and a bit on your forehead. “Well, looks like you’re going to bleach with me.”

You stared at him, open-mouthed. “I told you this would happen! Now my hair’s going to be stained, and it’s all your fault.”

He shrugged, not a hint of regret. “You’re still beautiful. Maybe we should bleach it all at once.”

“No way,” you replied, trying to wipe the cream off your forehead with the back of your hand, only to spread it even more.

Pietro laughed, that warm, contagious laugh that made your heart race. He grabbed a piece of paper towel and leaned forward, wiping the stain off with a care that was completely at odds with the laughter shaking his shoulders. But then he held your face, giving you a look full of affection. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “I know, Pietro.”

His fingers ran along your cheek. “I want you to know. Really. I don’t care about the hair, or what we do. I just want to make you happy.”

Your heart tightened, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to disappear. “You already do,” you said, your voice softer than you intended, but full of sincerity.

He smiled, that small, genuine smile that was all his. “Good. Because you’re everything to me.”

You felt the words like a hug, warm and full of meaning. He had always been like that – direct, no nonsense, but full of feeling.

“Now stop distracting me,” you said, trying to refocus, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide.

“No chance,” he replied, leaning in to steal a kiss before you could protest.

#pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x y/n #quicksilver x y/n #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #romance #aaron taylor johnson #atj #fluffy #atj x reader #writing #no use of y/n #modern!au

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supergirl000983 · 10 months ago

Text

Random Outta Pocket moments on the Ranch.

Y/N: *Falls off horse* Fuck…Ouch

Travis: You ok Darlin?

Beth: *Watching her sister walk funny up to the gate* What’s the matter with you?

Y/N: My Thong is Thonging a little too hard.

Travis: *Looking up at the sky questioning his wife choices* Dear God

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

Y/N: *Falling on the couch between Travis and Beth* Damn what a week.

John: Sweetheart it’s 6:30 pm on a Monday

Y/N: *falling back into Travis* Jesus Christ Fuck me.

Travis: Not Jesus, but I can totally do that later tonight.

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

Y/N: Your existence confuses me greatly.

Jimmy: How so?

Y/N: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of something bad happening to you is upsetting to me.

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John: Are yall sober?

Beth while holding up Y/N: We are moderately functional.

John: I'll take that as a no.

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Y/N: There are three ways to handle a difficult situation. The right way, the wrong way, and the Dutton way. Which is the wrong way, but faster.

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Kayce - Travis, what did I say about PDA?

Travis: *with Y/n on his lap and in the middle of a make-out session* I don't know what you're talking about brother.

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

Colby: I'm a real asset.

Ryan: You're only off by two letters.

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Teeter: Between Ryan, Jimmy, Colby, and Walker - if you had to, who would you punch?

Y/N: No one - they're my friends! I wouldn't punch any of them.

Lloyd: Walker?

Y/N: Yeah, but I don't know why.

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

Kayce: Where's Jamie?

Beth: Somewhere disappointing Dad

Y/N: Somewhere disappointing God

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Y/N: "Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Teeter!"

Teeter: "You can't expect me to look into your eyes and be straight."

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Travis: Why is your back all scratched up?

Y/n : *flashbacks to messing with a chicken Travis told her not to mess with

Y/n: I'm having an affair

Travis: What?

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

Kayce: I thought Beth told you to stay in bed

Y/n: She did, but there's a scary monster in my closet, soooo here I am

Rip: was the monster scarier than Beth when She's mad?

Y/n:...

Y/n: I'm going back to bed

Travis: good girl

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

Kayce : I think your mom mixed up our lunches. Look.

holds up a post-it note that says "I'm proud of you and I love you so much."]

Tate: Oh, that explains this.

holds up a post-it note that says

"Please be good. For the love of God, be good. "]

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John: If you three can manage not to kill each other while I'm gone-

Y/N: Oh please...

Beth: *Fake smiles*

Jamie: We're not children.

John: ...*walks away*

Y/N: ...

Jamie: ...

Beth: …

Y/N: Fucking Cunt-Cakes

Beth: Eat shit and die.

Jamie: Yes, fuck you.

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

Walker: You know, Travis, real talk bro, you never say nothin' when you're around us. Why is that?

Travis: Cause I don't fucking like you guys.

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John: Don't pull any of those stunts like you did last time.

Y/N: I made an offering.

John: You dropped a dead mouse into Summer’s lap.

Y/N: Yes! Like a cat.

John: You are not a cat!

Y/N: No... tragically, I am a woman.

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

Sheriff : Think you can answer questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Y/N: If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid.

Sheriff : Where's your Dad and why hasn't anyone been able to contact him?

Y/N: I dunno, l've been here, haven't seen him in days.

Sheriff : Is he drinking again?

Y/N: What do you mean again? He never had to stop.

Sheriff: But he did have to slow down, is he drinking like he used to?

Y/N: Alright, how bout this? Next time I see him, l'll give him the field sobriety test, okay? We'll do the alphabet, start with F & end with U.

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*Beth and Summer arguing*

Kayce: …

Monica: …

Rip: …

John: …

Y/N: l'ma instigate.

Travis: *pulling her back and putting his hand over her mouth* NO!

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

Travis: *pissed off* Sometimes I can't stand you.

Y/N: *while walking away* Then kneel!And while you're down there, occupy your mouth.

Travis: I.....

Teeter: 000000....

Jimmy: I- I-... She has no fear. None. Absolutely no survival instinct, no self preservation. None!

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Travis: To apologize I’m getting you whatever flowers you want

Y/N: Fuck flowers buy me a horse.

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Kayce: Won't be gone long. Left everyone their own list of instructions while I ain't here.

Y/N: Mine just says "Y/N, no."

Rip: Apply it to everything

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Y/N: Why don't you ever take me outside in the middle of the night to look at the stars?

Travis: Cause I woke ya up at 4:30 once to hunt with me and ya said anything before 9am was costin' me my dick.

Y/N: Maybe I meant you'd get laid.

Travis: Ya had a knife, Y/N.

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

Rip: What's wrong?

Travis: Food's hot. Can't eat it.

Y/N: I'm hot.

Travis:*looking exasperated* Don't.

Y/N: You still eat me.

Everyone at the table: *crickets chirping*

John: *beating his forehead on the table* Just-one-normal dinner. I just want one.

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

Colby: The fuck's wrong with you?!

Teeter: *sipping her coffee* Wow, could you at least say good morning?

Colby: Good mornin. The fuck's wrong with you?!

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Lloyd: what's a word that's a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Jake: disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Jimmy: smad.

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Y/N: I’m a person that likes to think things through.

Jamie: Since when? I once saw you eat a marshmallow that was still on fire.

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

Beth: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Rip: Sure!

Rip: Whats your favorite color?

Beth: *laser fucking focused* Triangle. Do you love me?

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

#yellowstoneimagines #beth dutton imagine #yellowstone ranch #beth dutton #rip wheeler imagine #y/n dutton #john dutton #ripxbeth #imagine #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone ryan imagine #Travis Wheatley Imagine #taylor sheridan #Teeter #Colby #Jake #Lloyd #rip wheeler

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lesservillain · 6 days ago

Text

inmate!eddie munson x reader

cw: smut, pregnancy talks and all that come with it, mentions of nausea and vomiting, hospitalization, i think that's it?

wc: 19k

a/n: finally. it's finally here. this has been a two year in the making project for me and I am so happy to have this out. on the outside was my first ever fic and i can't believe i'm actually saying good bye to these characters. i hope you all enjoy.

“Eddieee?” You call out for your fiance from where you stand in front of your refrigerator.

You were about to change out the calendar for the new year, head pounding as if you had celebrated the New Year drinking with everyone else despite your sobriety. Eddie had only had a few beers, but he woke up this morning feeling fresh as a daisy in comparison to how sick you felt.

At first you were worried that maybe you had caught the flu. You hadn’t been feeling the best for a couple days, but chalked it up to how hard you had been working right before winter break to get all your students' grades in on time for the end of the semester. You’d also volunteered to chaperone the winter formal where, unfortunately, one of the students spiked the punch. Thankfully Eddie had been your chaperone date and handled the situation for you while you got sick in the bathroom hoping that you weren’t going to relapse after 18 months of sobriety.

But, now that you’re looking at the calendar all marked through, including the ones with a red dot for your expected period days and little pink hearts on the subsequent fertile days, you realize that those days came and passed without notice.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks as he pulls the new Iron Maiden hoodie you got him for the holiday over his head, curls bouncing as they are freed. Bear follows right behind him, coming up to you expectantly as he sees his box of treats sitting on top of the fridge.

“Babe, did I have a period this month?”

His head cocks to the side as he looks at you, eyes squinting and tongue poking out as he thinks about all the crazy shit that has happened this last month. With your crazy schedule and his extra hours at work, the two of you had barely had time to spend together, making it up to each other once your break had finally hit. But as he wracks his brain, he doesn’t recall you asking him to bring you home any sweets or crying any more than usual.

“Um, not that I can remember,” he says with a shake of his head. He watches as your eyes widen, a toothy smile spreading across your face before you cover it with your hands. It takes him a moment to figure out what has you all giddy, but when it hits him he’s flying to you, almost tripping over Bear as he wraps you up in a hug to spin you around. “Holy shit, please tell me you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me,” he says for lack of better words, brain short circuiting with excitement, placing you back down on your feet.

“I mean, I can’t make any promises until I take a test,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, not wanting to get your hopes up after having your heart broken so many times before.

“Can you take a test now?” Eddie asks with a childish excitement.

“I think so,” you say flipping between the calendar pages, now crushed from Eddie's embrace. Upon further inspection, you realize you’ve actually not had a period since October. It makes your head reel back, but you keep that information to yourself just in case. “Let-let me go take one,” you say shakily, nerves starting to get to you as you swiftly walk to the bathroom. The door barely closes before you’re digging under the sink for a test, cursing when the box you had under the sink comes up empty. “Shit,” you curse, throwing the box into the bathroom trash can with force.

“Are you okay?” you hear from the other side of the door, followed by a whine from your dog. You startle the both of them with the force you use to swing the door open.

“I took the last one already,” you say with frustration, “I’m all out!”

“Well, come on, lets go get your shoes on,” Eddie brushes your frustration to the side, grabbing your hand and leading you out to the couch. He grabs your boots for you, unlacing them so he can put them on your feet. You can’t even stay mad at your own shortcoming when he’s treating you so well.

“Eddie, I can put my own shoes on,” you say with a chuckle. His big brown eyes look up at you with faux offense, still grabbing your foot and slipping it into the boot.

“I don’t think so, princess,” he says with a playful sass that you’ve grown fond of, because it really only comes out when he’s in a giddy mood like this. “I can’t have you doing anything that may make the baby uncomfortable, like bending over or lifting a finger.”

Your breath hitches at his words. The baby. The one that may or may not be making a home inside of you right now. Eddie’s baby, with you.

Bile threatens to travel higher as you look at how he’s beaming in front of you. Eddie’s never known the heartbreak that you’ve known when it comes to these things; wanting something so bad and yet your body doesn’t comply. He’s been so patient and understanding since you’ve started trying. Everything that you wish you had all those years when you were with Henry, which only made you want to give him a baby more. Anyone so kind, caring, and self sacrificing as Eddie deserved everything he’s ever wanted and more.

Every month that you’ve sat silently sobbing as you stare at the one lonely line while he snores into his pillow none the wiser has been another twist of the guilt covered knife in your gut. He doesn’t ask about it, even if he sees the wrapper sticking out between the tissues you used to clean your tears. But he tends to you with acts of kindness and service, his love language with you.

The same love language he displayed as he put on your shoes. Same as when he went out to start the car for you, opening the door and fastening your seatbelt, making sure it’s not too snug across your lap. He let you grab your tests, meeting you at the front of the store with a bundle of flowers hidden poorly behind his back. He makes you walk in front of him so he can “surprise you” when you get to the car.

Eddie practically jumps out of the car to help you out as you arrive back to your house. Bear jumps between the two of you as you two run back to the bathroom, letting out loud giggles and squeals as Eddie pretends to chase you into the bathroom. You close the door on him, catching your breath and wiping tears from your eyes as he bangs on the door for you to let him in. Bear barks at him and Eddie laughs calling him a traitor. When you hear them walk away, presumably so Eddie can let Bear out, you pull the box of tests out of the bag.

Taking a deep breath, your hands start to shake as you set everything up, reading over the instructions regardless of how many tests you’ve taken. You didn’t want to mess this up. Not this one. Every time someone told you that you would just know when you were pregnant, you thought you knew what they meant, only to be met with the negative test. This time felt different, though. Every tick of the clock was another butterfly in your stomach. And with the closing seconds, you felt your breathing pick up, chest tightening with anticipation. You stand up, hand hovering over the wrapper of the test. Counting one, two, three, before pulling the wrapper away.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, petting Bear on autopilot. He wasn’t sure how long these tests normally take, but after 10 minutes he was starting to get nervous. What if you were pregnant? It’s a good thing you found a house with a lot of space. He wondered what color you would want him to paint the nursery. Would you want to wait to find out what you’re having or would you want to find out as soon as possible? He would want to know right away, but would wait if you wanted him to. Is your car safe for a baby? He’ll just have to pick up some extra hours to get you a new one. Oh, god, would you want a minivan like Nancy and Jonathan…though, it does come in handy if you have multiple kids. Would you want more kids after this?

Bear’s ears perk up under Eddie’s touch as the door to the bathroom clicks, the door opening much more gracefully compared to before. He’s on his feet immediately, slightly shuffling as he waits for you to come out. Any thoughts he had before the door opened are immediately evacuated from his mind as he sees the vacant look on your face, the tears flowing freely down your cheeks being the only hint of emotion he can gauge from you.

His legs move on their own, pulling you into him as your knees buckle. He holds you up as the sobs shake your whole body in his grasp. Everything is automatic for him as your wails echo on the bathroom walls. Lowering you to the edge of the tub, he starts the shower, letting the water warm up as he undresses you, and then himself. He climbs into the tub, pulling you in with him so that the water hits the both of you as you continue to cry.

“Eddie!” Your voice is frantic as you call his name from the kitchen. You hear him running down the hall, a loud thump and a curse towards Bear as the two of them round the corner into the kitchen.

When you answered the phone, you assumed it was going to be Dustin telling you that he and his new girlfriend, Maggie, would be leaving soon for your double date that he and Eddie worked really hard to find reservations on Valentine’s day for. Instead, you were met with the urgent voice of Wayne’s boss, Bill, who informed you that Wayne had passed out on the line again.

Eddie folded where he stood, spiraling into old memories from close to a decade ago. Bear laid next to where he kneeled while you got the quick details from Bill before hanging up. Quickly, you lead Eddie to the couch so you could lace his converse, pull his Iron Maiden hoodie over his head, and get him out the door and buckled into the passenger seat.

About halfway to the hospital he finally breaks down, almost scaring you off the road when he cursed loudly, slamming his fist against the window. You let him get it out, offering your hand for him to take when he was ready, which he grabs almost immediately. Pulling your hand against his lips, he kisses your knuckles between sobs, eyes fixed out the side window.

As you pull into Hawkins General, you let Eddie out at the door so he can get inside as fast as possible. Soon after you park, you make your way up to the room that you were told Wayne was in. You were expecting to walk in and find Wayne still unconscious with Eddie a mess by his side.

Instead, you could hear the two of them bickering from the hallway. The sound was bittersweet, a smile on your face as you walk in and see a very exasperated Eddie pacing and a disgruntled Wayne sitting cross-armed in the hospital bed like a petulant child. You noticed the oxygen tubes in his nose, and he looked generally worse off than he did when you saw him two weeks ago for Sunday dinner.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me!” Eddie exclaims, not noticing that you’ve walked in the room yet.

“What did he not listen to this time?” You say jokingly as you walk to the other side of Wayne’s bed, leaning in to give him a hug that he returns with an old man grunt.

“Not just me,” Edde starts, “We both told him to go get that cough looked at and he never did. Well guess what? His stubborn ass has fucking pneumonia!”

“Wayne,” you look at him with concern. His eyes remain focused on the foot of the bed, ignoring that he’d been caught. “You’ve had that cough since Christmas. And I remember you promising me that you’d go and get checked out.”

The old man lets out a sigh that turns into a cough. You place a hand on his back and rub up and down, eliciting an eye roll from Eddie as he watches you baby his uncle.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to go, but I just haven’t had the time.”

“Oh, you have to be joking. You couldn’t find time between your shows to pick up the phone and call the doctor?”

“Eddie,” you give him a pointed look.

“You can’t be--”

Eddie’s words are cut off by the doctor pulling open the curtain to Wayne’s room. The balding, older man greets you all, confirming some information with Wayne before going over some more of his test results.

“Everything else came back fairly normal. Your blood pressure was a little high, but that’s to be expected. Just make sure you keep up on your blood pressure medication. Don’t want to have a stroke and a heart attack within a year, right?”

The doctor is the only one laughing at his joke. Eddie’s eyes snap to Wayne, who grumbles “shit” under his breath. But Eddie keeps his mouth shut, letting the doctor finish and leave before finally speaking.

“So, when the hell did you have another heart attack, Wayne?”

“Eddie,” Wayne rolls his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” Eddie says, waving his hands in front of him, “I know that I don’t live with you anymore, but I think it’s only fair that you tell me if you have another fucking heart attack!”

“After what you did last time, you really think I’d tell you?”

“Damn it, Wayne! Don’t hold that shit above my head!”

“Okay, okay,” you move around the bed to stand between the two of them. “That’s enough, you two. Wayne, I get why you might be discouraged to tell Eddie that you had another heart attack, but you have to understand that things are different now. Shit, even I’m hurt that you didn’t say anything.” He looks up at you with a wounded expression.

“And Eddie,” you place your hands gently on either cheek before tightening your grip, “You need to stop yelling before you get us kicked out.” His expression drops to annoyance, grabbing your wrists lightly and pulling your hands away. “Wayne only wants what’s best for you, just as you want what’s best for him. So…why don’t we talk about what we’ve discussed before.”

His eyes meet yours, mood shifting between you as he nods his head, reaching out to take your hand in his. When you turn around, Wayne is eyeing you both suspiciously, letting out another cough.

“Wayne,” Eddie starts, “When we got the house, the two of us sat down and talked about what we would do if you had another heart attack. Or if anything major happened to you again. And, um, we decided that we would want you to move in with us if--”

“No.”

“Wayne--”

“Nope.”

“Just hear us out,” you plead. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “Please?”

“...Fine,” he says with a huff.

Eddie smiles slyly at you, thankful that he has you around to be on his side.

“Uncle Wayne,” you start, hitting him in that soft spot when you call him uncle, “We would really like for you to move in with us. Not to take away any of your freedom or anything. Actually, you’d be more free…because we also want you to retire from the plant.”

Wayne’s brow raises at your suggestion.

“Eddie and I make enough money between us that you wouldn’t need to work unless you wanted to. You’d have all the free time to fish and hunt and watch your trash TV. Which, may I remind you, we have that big TV in the living room now. Plus, Bear would love to have someone at home with him all day.”

He grunts again. Bear loves Wayne, but Wayne is steadfast in his dislike for Bear, even though you’ve caught him giving him people food and the occasional scratch behind the ear.

“You sure y’all want me to move in? Won't get to have all your alone time together anymore,” he asks, seeking confirmation of your proposal.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, pops,” Eddie says with a smile, “We’ll figure that out ourselves.”

The next month weeks flew by for you and Eddie. You’d been busy prepping your sophomores for the upcoming state testing that takes place the week before Spring Break as well as running yard sales during the most uncharacteristically warm winter that Indiana was giving you to get rid of any of Wayne’s extra stuff. There was also the babysitting for Chrissy and Jason you’d been doing while they remodel their kitchen. And that was just your schedule, as Eddie had a slew of his own obligations on his end with work and prepping the house for Wayne to move in.

The two of you found it almost impossible to have any time together. Almost being the key word here, because Eddie could find time to bed you like it was his job. The week before Wayne finally made his big move, the two of you were on each other like rabbits at any given moment.

Now Wayne was fully moved in. He opted to rent the trailer out for cheap to a single mom who was looking around the park for something that she could afford for her and her son. He finished his last week at the plant, his boss and coworkers throwing him a surprise retirement party at the pool hall they like to frequent. Eddie and you decided to get a hold of his longtime friend down in Florida and sent him away for a week to have a buddies trip and to “get some more vitamin D in your system after working the night shift for so long” according to Eddie.

Eddie may or may not have purposely planned Wayne’s trip during the same time that you’d be off for spring break, but wouldn’t admit that to you. He just wanted to get you all to himself so bad, eating his words to Wayne about having alone time together. The only thing making him feel a little less crazy about the whole thing is your little remarks about how it would be even worse if it was a baby you were bringing home, and that at least the two of you are still getting a full night's sleep. So, he sucked it up until the day finally came that he was to take Wayne to the airport.

He quietly gave your sleeping form a peck on the cheek that morning before the two of them left, not wanting to wake you since you loved to sleep in on your days off. You’d been feeling sick again, similar to how you felt right before the winter break a few months back. Eddie was worried that they were putting too much responsibility on you by having you teach two grades at the same time, but you assured him that you could handle it, that once you were off for the summer that you’d feel better.

You woke up around 11 am with a headache so bad it made you sick to your stomach. You’d been having them off and on for about a week, barely able to stand the fluorescent lights of your classroom or the smell of the coffee pot in the break room. At least your sophomore students spent most of the morning testing, and by the end of the week you were playing a movie for all of your classes as an excuse to keep the lights off.

After puking up bile for 20 minutes, your stomach gave you a break so that you could make yourself look presentable enough for the doctor’s office. Eddie made you promise him that if you weren’t better by today that you would go and get checked out. So you shove some buttered toast into your mouth and cross your fingers in hopes that you’ll make it to the doctor without having to pull over and spill your guts.

Thankfully, the urgent care in town wasn’t busy and you were taken back to a room fairly quickly. The nurse asked you a slew of questions in a monotone voice as your mouth watered from the wave of nausea that hit you again. When you jumped up suddenly to wretch in the small trash can on the floor, you heard her say something about a pregnancy test in a passive manner.

“Pregnancy test?” You ask between heaving breaths.

“Yes, dear,’ she says nonchalantly as she continues to write on her stack of papers. A different feeling filled your stomach then, coating it with nerves that seemed to distract you long enough to get you off the floor.

Ever since the let down from New Years, you and Eddie hadn’t talked much about kids other than some off hand comments here and there. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to keep trying, but the two of you decided to go with the flow and let things happen if they happen.

At least that’s what you told anyone who asked.

In your head you’ve been beating yourself up all over again, just like you did for so many years, which is probably only making you more sick. You almost tell the nurse not to even bother with the test, but she seemed like she wasn’t having the best day so you just let her take your blood and be on her merry way.

When the doctor finally comes in, he gives you a quick look over and tells you to take some benadryl for your symptoms. It left you feeling annoyed, wishing you had just stayed home and done that yourself instead of wasting your time coming in.

As you leave he tells you he’ll call you later in the day with your test results and any other instructions that he seems necessary. It’s not exactly what you want to hear, but you didn’t protest as you signed some consent forms at check out, just wanting to get back to your bed.

When you woke up a little while later, you had to admit that you did feel much better than in the morning. Maybe you were just getting to an age where your allergies were getting more sensitive.

As you amble into the kitchen, the flashing light from your answering machine catches your eye. You press play as you open the door to let Bear out, listening to the machine play as you start to pull out everything to make a late lunch before Eddie gets home from his half day at work.

You have 3 new messages.

First new message.

Beep.

Hey guys, it’s Dustin. I was calling to see if we could get a game set up for Friday? The guys and Erica are going to be in town and we’ve been talking about playing a game with everyone together again. Will said he would DM if you didn’t want to, but we’d like to have you back in the throne if the missus could get us into the theater room. Give me a call back as soon as you can and let me know. Bye!

Beep.

Second message.

Hey, sweetheart. Just wanted to let you know I got to work okay. I’m gonna stop and pick up a pizza on the way home, so don’t worry about cooking dinner tonight. Want you to be as relaxed and rested as possible for what I got in store for you tonight. Love you, baby.

Beep.

Third message.

Hello, this is Dr. Mando calling for…in regards to her test results. Everything came back negative in regards to your flu and strep tests. Blood work wise the only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recommend you follow up with your OBGYN from this point on for any more treatment. If our results are needed for their records please have them fax a request form to-

[REWIND]

-ep tests. Blood work wise the only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recommend you follow up with your OBG-

[REWIND]

-only elevated result was for your HCG, which puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We-

[REWIND]

-hich puts you around 9 weeks pregnant currently. We recom-

Bear scratching at the door pulled you from your trance as you played back the message over and over again. You didn’t want to walk away, afraid that if you left the machine that the message would somehow disappear. Or that if you played the message again the words would change. Or that you would wake up and realize that you’re having a benadryl induced dream while you’re still asleep in your bed. But the feeling of Bear’s fur brushing against your leg throttles you into reality.

You are awake right now.

And for the first time in your life you’ve been pregnant for more than 6 weeks.

With haste, you pick up the phone line and begin to dial the first person who you know can help you.

Keeping secrets from Eddie was a challenge. His intuition when it came to you was almost scary. At times it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Which, honestly, he might. But, it doesn’t help when he wants to be with you every waking second of the day. Something that you want, too, but every time you look at him you have to duck your head or avert your gaze to keep yourself from blurting out the news to him.

It’s also been incredibly hard to deny all of his advances.

He’s not pressured you to do anything with him, never has, but you can tell he’s letting your rejections get to him in a self doubting way. Even when you did give him head hoping it would be enough, his pouty lip almost got you when you told him not to return the favor.

You do feel for him. The two of you had been planning to have quite the week with Wayne being out of the house. But even if you could have sex with him, not wanting to risk anything with how rough he can get at times, you honestly weren’t in the mood anyway. Benadryl was the only thing helping with your nausea and headaches so you were constantly drowsy. And now you were getting terrible acid reflux on top of it, going through tums like candy.

When you told Eddie that you made an appointment with your primary doctor for Friday morning, he insisted that he take you in case there was anything he could do to help. You told him not to worry about it, keeping from him that the appointment was actually with your OB. You felt guilty when the ultrasound tech handed you the grainy pictures of your little baby because you know that Eddie would have wanted to be with you for this moment, but it would all be worth it tonight as long as everything went to plan.

When you and Eddie pulled into the closed high school later that day, you were greeted by the now familiar, smiling faces of your fiance’s long time friends. It wasn’t often that all of them could get together like this between work, school, and their own families. But even with all of their big ages, the atmosphere as they all embraced each other was of childlike giddiness. You were included in the rounds of hugs and pats on the back as you had been accepted so openly by everyone over the course of yours and Eddie’s relationship. The tightest hug was from Eddie’s best friend, Jeff, the two of you share a knowing look with one another as you part.

Once everyone files inside, they begin to work together to set the old theatre room set up like they had back in the day. It was funny to watch them move around each other out of muscle memory, with a few more grunts and groans than they likely let out all those years ago.

And as they start to play, the energy in the room becomes electrifying. There isn’t a single person sitting by their second hour in, voices talking over each other as the room is divided over combat choices. Even if you only had a basic understanding of what was happening, you were very much entertained where you sat next to Eddie at the end of the table.

It was a sight to see Eddie in his element up close. The passion he has for this game was on another level. There’s no way that it was anything less than cathartic for him to be in a state of power like this, playing every part as if he was performing for an audience, using his whole body and voice to play each character as if he was truly in the fantasy world he created.

It made you tear up a bit, having to discreetly wipe your eyes to hide the emotions so as not to make him worry or pull him out of his game. But the images in your head of him playing pretend in the backyard with your child has a lump sitting in your throat. The two of them with pillow cases as capes and sticks as swords slaying dragons (Bear) while you watch them from the kitchen window.

You end up having to excuse yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect yourself in your newly hormonal state. You barely make it into the hallway before the water works start, bee-lining for the closest restroom so you can let it out. Anyone passing by would probably think you were crying over some devastating news with the way you were blubbering and wailing.

You do your best to clean yourself up, but you know Eddie will be able to tell you’ve been crying. So instead of going straight to the drama room, you decide to go to your classroom and work on some assignments for your classes on Monday.

After a while, a knock on your door startles you, head whipping to see your man standing at the doorway to your classroom with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks as he takes a few steps to stand by you at your desk. “Were we boring you with our nerdy game?”

“No, not at all!” You stand from your desk with a shake of your head. “I just wasn’t feeling well and needed a little quiet, that’s all.” You give him a reassuring smile, taking his hand in yours. He raises it to his lips and kisses the knuckles, taking a moment to admire your ring before letting your hands fall, still clasped between the two of you.

“We’re taking a break right now,” he says with a suggestive tone you know all too well. There’s a mischievous look in his eyes as he glances up at the clock on the wall. “Need to be back in five minutes,” he leans into you, dipping his head to speak low in your ear, “Think that’s enough time for me to get you on your desk like last time?”

You feel the heat flush to your cheeks at the mentions of your previous inappropriate endeavors in this classroom. For a brief moment you consider his proposition, but ultimately you pull away with a sympathetic look.

“As fun as that sounds, you and I both know 5 minutes isn’t enough time for you,” you poke his chest and he gives you a shit eating grin, “And I would be mortified if any of your friends walked in on us because you took too long to come back to your game.”

“It might be too long for me,” he draws out the last word as he runs his hands up and down your sides, “but I think I could take care of you if you’ve got room for me under that desk.”

His brows move suggestively as he waits for your response, which is just a playful roll of the eye and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Eds, but I’m okay.”

“Well, alright,” he sighs heavily, his tone laced with faux disappointment, “I guess I’ll just starve.” You throw your head back with laughter at his dramatics, him joining you with a fit of giggles of his own.

You decided to return to the game with him, everyone getting swept up once again in the game's energy that Eddie puts out into the room. The enjoyment is clear with how engaged everyone is, jumping up and down or yelling out like a group of your students rather than a room full of adults.

Erica and Dustin get into it over a decision in game, and you get to witness Eddie’s potential Dad Mode as he defuses the situation with no one getting their feelings hurt. You can’t help it, but for the rest of the game you subconsciously note little things that he does that may be a preview for how he’s going to handle parenthood with you. And when the group wins against whatever big monster Eddie had them fighting against, you can feel the ache in your cheeks from all the smiling you’ve done while observing them.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this shit cleaned up,” he says as they start to tease him. He gives you a look that you can only interpret as “I totally let them win” before he starts putting away his things.

“Hey, look what I found,” Jeff suddenly speaks up from across the room. He’s holding up a box that you know has some of their club's shirts in them for the new members. You feel your heart drop into your ass.

Shit, it’s happening.

“Looks like they’re still using your old design, Eddie.” Jeff says as he plops the box down on the table. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as you focus on not passing out.

“Guess you can’t fix perfection,” Eddie quips back, which elicits a few groans in response.

“Do you have a shirt?”

Your eyes flit to Will where he’s moved to stand next to you. You look at him for a moment before shaking your head, still unable to open your mouth.

“Oh, good idea, kid,” Eddie says as he places a hand on your shoulder. “You sat through a whole game, so that makes you an honorary member.”

You look over to Jeff, who gives you a subtle nod to signal that everything was good to go. It’s not exactly what the two of you had discussed, but this seemed a little more natural for the situation.

As you rise from your chair, you’re able to let out a small “okay” before walking to stand next to Jeff. You take a sharp inhale when you see it, the small bundle of material folded at the top of the other shirts.

All eyes are on you as you reach down into the box. You pretend to look through the pile before grabbing what you really want, pulling it out of the box and holding it up with both hands. It’s the first time you’re seeing it yourself, the small onesie version of the Hellfire shirt that Eddie made almost 15 years ago, black quarter sleeves and all. It’s exactly what you imagined, and you’re so, so thankful that Jeff was able to bring your vision to life.

“What do you think about this one, Eds?”

The words roll off your tongue without you thinking, your mouth moving on its own as it’s tired of waiting for your brain to catch up. Flipping the onesie around for the table to see, your eyes find Eddie’s. You watch in real time as the emotions come and go from his features; ignorant joy, confusion, and realization.

“No way!” You hear Dustin shout, too focused on Eddie to pay him any attention though.

“Dude holy shit!”

“Hell yeah man! It’s about time!”

“I call dibs on babysitting!”

“Are you serious?” His voice cracks, a loud sniffle escaping as his body starts to shake. Fat tears roll down his reddening cheeks that he tries to wipe with his sleeve. “Is this real?”

You nod, your own tears coming back once again. “Ten weeks,” you say as you exhale, doing your best to hold it together.

Eddie moves quickly to be by your side, taking your face in his hands and crashing his lips into yours. Collective oohs and awes swirl around you at the display of affection between you. When he pulls away he uses the collar of his shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes, letting out an airy chuckle.

You hold the onesie out for him to take, and he holds it in his hands with such delicacy, as if it's the baby itself.

“When did you find out?” He asks with a sniffle, not taking his eyes off the little article of clothing.

“On Monday, after my appointment.”

“You’ve known since Monday?” He almost seems upset, but there’s no way he could be mad at you right now. “Well, I guess that explains a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Eds. Trust me, it was really hard not to say anything. But, I feel like it finally paid off. All thanks to Jeff.”

You turn to gesture to him, and Jeff takes a small bow. “Happy to do my part for my future niece and or nephew. Just gotta let me know if I need to make another one in case it’s twins.”

“Twins?!” Eddie looks at you with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“It’s not twins. Here,” you walk over to your purse and pull the strip of pictures from your purse. “See for yourself.”

Eddie takes the picture from you and examines them. Excited laughter takes over him. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be dad!” The gang surrounds him, congratulating the both of you.

“What if he sees it and doesn’t get it?”

“Babe, the sign literally says ‘Welcome home Grandpa’. I know he’s old but I’m sure he’ll catch on pretty quickly.”

Eddie and you stand at the end of the gate in the Indianapolis airport waiting for Wayne to make his way down the tunnel. The two of you thought it would be fun to surprise him about his promotion when you pick him up, making a day out of it to find him a new mug to surprise him with as well. Eddie holds the gift bag in one hand while you hold the sign, both of you skimming the crowd of people for the balding Munson in the mix.

“There he is!” Eddie nudges you, pointing into the crowd, “Hold it up so he can see!”

You raise the sign above your head as Eddie waves to get Wayne’s attention. Even from where you’re standing you can see the old man smile, then quint to read your sign. He’s almost to you before the look on his face changes.

“What the--What the hell did y’all do while I was gone?” Wayne drops his bags and wraps his arms around the two of you.

“Technically it was before you left,” Eddie laughs, returning his uncles embrace.

“Is that why y’all sent me away then? Do I gotta move back out to make room in the house now?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, handing him the sign to look at.

“We’re not about to kick out Hawkin’s next great babysitter,” Eddie says as he puts a hand on Wayne’s shoulder. The older man huffs out a laugh, smile wide as he runs his fingers over the word grandpa.

“So that’s the real reason you wanted me to move in,” he says, looking at the two of you again. “I thought I was supposed to be retired?”

“Well, I hope your time off was enough because we’ll need you on duty in about 9 months.” Wayne shakes his head. Eddie hands Wayne the gift bag and he opens it to find the mug inside.

“I love my Grandpa,�� Wayne reads from the mug, a hand going to his eyes as he wipes away tears. “Shit you guys. I’m so happy for ya.” Tears start to well up in your own eyes and you pull Wayne in for a side hug.

The three of you make your way home, discussing your future with the baby the whole way. Talks of all the diapers you’ll need to get, who will get up in the middle of the night to feed and change diapers, names and all the other fun parts that come with being a parent.

“So we gotta paint soon,” Wayne says from the passenger seat. “Do y’all have a colour picked out?”

“Since we won't know the gender for a while,” you say from the back seat, “we talked about painting the baby’s room a light green for now. We can always paint it again later down the road.”

“That sounds nice,” Wayne says with a nod. “We can pick some up this weekend and I’ll paint while the two of you are at work. It’s warm enough out that I can open the window so the smell won’t get to ya.”

“You sure you wanna do that by yourself?” Eddie asks, turning into the driveway.

“Sure, gives me a break from the couch. I know the two of you are gonna be busy so might as well make myself useful.”

“We would really appreciate that, Uncle Wayne,” you say, putting a hand on his shoulder. He turns back to look at you, resting his hand on yours.

“What’s wrong?” Robin says from her spot next to you at the bathroom sink. The two of you, plus Steve and Eddie, had decided to take a trip to the mall today. This was your third trip to the restroom since you’d been there and you could tell Robin was getting suspicious.

“If you have a UTI or something you definitely need to go to the doctor, you know?”

“I’m fine, Robin.” You dry your hands, tossing the paper towel in the trash. “I just had a lot of coffee this morning,” you lie.

The truth was that you were planning on surprising her and Steve today with a pit stop in the baby clothes store that Missy and Nancy had gone to when you went shopping with them a few months ago. It was a newer store and you knew that it would be fun little way to tell them your news.

“You have to lay off that stuff,” Robin voices her concern. “I’m pretty sure I heard it makes your boobs shrink.”

“I don’t think so Bobbie.”

The two of you reconvene back with Steve and Eddie who were waiting for you on a bench. Eddie looked like a real dad with sitting there with the shopping bags in his hands. You took a moment to admire how long his hair was starting to get before they noticed you.

“Ready for our last stop?” Eddie says, suddenly standing up. He’s had a nervous air about him this whole trip, and you don’t know why. Steve and Robin are going to be over the moon when you tell them, but you suppose it’s just because he’s excited.

“Yeah, where did you want to go?” Steve asks, looking between you two.

“Oh, just a shop over by where we parked.”

The four of you make your way toward the other side of the mall. Eddie and you both stop at in front of the Baby Gap, Robin and Steve pausing when they realize you’ve stopped.

“You good?” Steve asks.

“Yep, we just need to pop in here.”

Steve and Robin look up at the store and share a look.

“Does Nancy need stuff?” Robin asks quizzically.

“Nope, we just need to get some things for ourselves,” you say, staring at them hoping it will click.

“What do you guys need at Baby Gap?”

“Duh, what else do they sell here, Steve?” Robin nudges him. And then she looks at you with wide eyes. “Oh my god, you guys are buying baby clothes?”

Eddie and you both nod excitedly. Robin squeals, bouncing up and down. Steve still looks confused.

“Why are we excited?”

“They’re pregnant, dingus!”

Now it was Steve’s turn to look at you with saucers for eyes.

“Nuh-uh,” he says with a grin.

“Yes, sir,” Eddie nods, putting an arm around you.

Steve grabs Robins arm and shakes it, still looking at the two of you. “No way!” He says excitedly. “About damn time!”

“How far along are you? Do you know the gender yet?” Robin asks in quick succession.

“I’m about 12 weeks. We won't know the gender for a little while longer, but Wayne already picked out the nursery room color for us.”

“Oh I bet he was over the moon to find out,” Robin coos.

“He was. He’s very excited to be a grandpa.”

“Grandpa Wayne, oh my god.”

“Do you have any names picked out?” Steve asks.

“We don’t have any names yet,” you say, looking up at Eddie, “But we’re open to ideas.”

“Well, Steve is a good name—Ow!”

“They’re not naming their baby after you Steve.”

“It was just a suggestion!”

“Besides, Robin is more gender neutral anyway.”

“Eddie.”

Brown eyes dart from the TV and over to where you stand in the doorway. Eddie shifts and stands, walking over to you with urgency.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” He asks with concern.

You sniffle, looking up at him through your lashes. “We don’t have any pickles…”

Eddie sighs in relief, glad that your tone wasn’t due to something serious.

“We don’t,” he confirms, looking down at you. “But I’m guessing we need to remedy that?”

You nod, and Eddie can’t help but giggle. The stage of weird cravings had started a week ago and you’d been asking him to buy you the most random foods. Bananas and hot sauce, sour cream that you ate from the tub, and now pickles.

“Can you get strawberry ice cream, too?” You ask sheepishly.

“Of course,” he assures you. “Anything for my babies.”

Your emotions get to you with that, and you can’t help but cry. Eddie would be concerned if this hadn’t become a semi-regular occurrence for you now. He simply pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head.

Bear makes his way over to you, looking up as the two of you embrace. You’re both sure he knows something is up, because he’s been by you constantly since you found out you were pregnant. It's almost like he’s standing guard to make sure no one gets near you.

“I’m okay, Bear,” you say, dropping down to squat at his level. He pants as you give him ear scritches, enjoying every second of it. Eddie takes the opportunity to grab his shoes and put them on.

“Anything else you might want me to grab while I’m out?”

“More milk? And probably more cereal for you and Wayne. I think I ate the last of it earlier.”

“I’ll get you your own box.”

Bear rested at your feet as you graded papers at the dining room table. It was getting close to the end of the school year and you didn’t want to let being pregnant put you behind.

Most of your kids were passing, which was a relief to you. It was a hard year but teaching two grades was an experience that you were glad you got to have. Thankfully the school was able to find a replacement teacher for your sophomore class next year, thanks to a recommendation by yours truly.

“It’ll be so nice for you to have someone like Will teaching with you,” Eddie says as he finishes making you lunch.

“It's going to be a big change from middle school, though,” you say as you set down your grading marker. “It was for me at least.”

“Will’s smart, he can manage. Plus he’ll have you for support.”

“Only for the first few months. Then I’ll be gone for most of the year.”

You had an appointment a few weeks back to find out you were due around Halloween. The irony of it all was that you probably got pregnant right after you had taken the test back in January. Life works in mysterious ways you thought.

“True, but he can always call here if he needs something. Plus, I’m sure the other teachers are going to love him.”

“Oh they will. I just hope they don’t treat him too much like a kid.”

Eddie puts a plate in front of you and takes a seat. “He is still young,” he says before he takes a bite of his sandwich. “Buy that will probably make him more relatable to the kids, ya know?”

You nod, taking a bite of your own food. The nausea has started to subside now that you were in your second trimester, which made it easier to eat foods that you weren’t necessarily craving. Still, you took your time eating so not to trigger anything.

“Are you excited for tonight?” Eddie asks, taking a chip from your plate and popping it in his mouth.

“Yes, I can’t wait to see their faces.”

Eddie and you finally decided to start telling more people about your pregnancy now that you were in the second trimester. Chrissy had been begging you for a double date for weeks now and you’d been putting her off so that you wouldn’t spill the beans too soon. So tonight was going to be the big reveal.

Chrissy had become a really good friend ever since she sold you the house. She was a busy mom and successful realtor but she always made time to call and check in on you. It honestly was hard not to tell her when you’ve told your other friends, but you wanted to be sure you’d make it to the second trimester before telling too many people per the doctor's suggestion.

So when you and Eddie arrived at the Golden Lamb, you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach. Thankfully you were too soon to be showing so they wouldn't know right away.

“I honestly thought it would be hard with a fifth, but Chrissy has been nothing but a superstar about it all,” Jason says as you all share an appetizer. You were barely talking because the food was so good you just kept eating it.

“Awe, so have you!” Chrissy says, beaming at the praise. “Jason’s been doing great making sure the boys are on their best behavior while I’ve been recovering.”

“How is that? The recovery, that is.”

You look up at Eddie when he asks the question.

“It’s hard, I’m not going to lie. But when you’ve done it before it definitely helps to know what to expect. You guys will know one day.” Chrissy winks at you.

“Yeah, about that..”

“You’re pregnant.”

You freeze at her words. Chrissy brings her hands to her mouth and gasps.

“H-how did you know?” You ask bewildered.

“I knew it! I could just tell when I saw you!”

“Woah, congratulations, man!” Jason reaches his hand across the table for Eddie to shake, which he does.

“Oh I can’t wait! Our kids are going to be best little friends!”

That made you happy to hear. Chrissy’s youngest and even Nancy’s youngest baby weren’t going to be too much older than yours. He or she already has friends waiting for them, and that made you feel a sense of joy in your heart.

“Do you know the gender yet?” Jason asks.

“We find out in a couple weeks,” Eddie says proudly.

“Are you hoping for anything or just feeling blessed regardless?”

Truth is you’d gone back and forth or whether or not you wanted a boy or girl. You’d be happy with either, but the idea of a little girl to dress up would be fun. You know Eddie wants a boy, but has also expressed that he’s just happy to have a baby with you.

“I’m just happy to be this far,” you finally say. “Although I think a girl would be fun.” You add that last part in without looking at Eddie.

“Oh a little girl!” Chrissy squeals. “I always wanted a daughter but I’m happy with my little team of boys. But if you have a girl I will be living vicariously through you.”

“Hey, we can always try again.” Jason says, giving Chrissy a little nudge. She rolls her eyes at him. You know she would be happy to have more kids, though.

“I personally want a boy,” Eddie announces, looking at you.

“Oh, man, boys are so fun. Our house is like a madhouse, but it’s totally worth it.”

“Which reminds me,” Chrissy chimes in, “Jacob wants to learn guitar. I was wondering if we paid you if you wouldn’t mind giving him lessons?”

Eddie is taken aback at this request. A Carver kid wants to play guitar?

“Y-yeah, sure. That’s your second oldest, right?”

You were pleasantly surprised that Eddie remembered, even after all the times you’ve drilled the names and ages of their kids into his head.

“Yep! Little Jacob wants to be a rockstar someday,” Jason adds.

“Hell yeah, that’s awesome,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “Just let me know when works for you guys.”

“We were thinking about dropping him off after church on Sundays? Maybe he can spend an hour or so with you?”

“That would be perfect,” you say, nodding to Eddie.

“Obviously not when you have the baby, we can wait until after that if you want. “

“No, it should be fine,” you say, “Bring him over whenever. It will probably be easier to start now before the baby anyway.”

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it,” Jason nods to Eddie. “By the way, have you ever heard of a band called Stryper?”

“Eddie! Quick!”

Eddie looks over at you as you come darting to him. He watches as you take his free hand and spin him around, toothbrush still in his mouth as he was getting ready for work.

“Wha es et?” He asks through a mouth full of toothpaste.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and place it on the side of your bump. The both of you are still as you wait for something to happen. After a few beats, you start to feel disappointed.

“I swear I felt them kicking,” you say dejectedly, letting go of Eddie’s hand.

“What, really?” He asks after spitting the toothpaste out of his mouth.

“Try again and maybe press down some?”

“Will that hurt it?”

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe agitate them a bit.”

Eddie puts his hand back on your barely there bump and presses down on it. It’s still for a few moments, and nothing happens. You let out a frustrated huff and cross your arms defeated.

“I really did feel them.”

“I believe you, sweetheart. That’s so exciting,” Eddie says rubbing your arms with his thumbs,

Then you feel it again.

You gasp, grabbing his hand again and moving it to the spot where you felt the movement. Eddie’s hand rested there and you waited another moment. Nothing.

“Damn it--”

Then it happened again. Eddie’s jaw dropped as he felt it that time, too stunned to speak.

“Wooooah,” he finally says, looking up at you.

“I know, right? Isn’t it crazy?”

Eddie puts both hands on your stomach and rubs it, kneeling down to be eye level with it.

“Hey there,” he says, eyes focused on your belly, “I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m your dad and I think it’s really cool that you have such strong legs. Maybe you’ll be a drummer like your Uncle Garreth. That would be super bad ass. Especially if you’re a girl. Girl drummers are awesome.”

“What if they’re a boy?” You ask him. “Then you’ll be a kick ass boy drummer for all I care. I really want you to play guitar, though. Gonna teach you that as soon as you can hold your head up. Babe, should be make him a battle jacket?”

“If we make him one now he won’t fit in it for very long. We should probably wait until he’s older.”

“Damn, oh well.” Eddie sighs as he straightens up. His arms wrap around you and pull you in close, letting his chin rest on the top of your head.

“You have no fucking clue how excited I am.”

“I think I can take a guess.”

The room is quiet, dimly lit with the soft glow of the low lights and the monitor that sits next to your seat. Your feet wiggle back and forth, a nervous movement as you sit and wait for the ultrasound technician to enter the room. Eddie was sitting beside you, his own leg bouncing in anticipation.

Today you would find out the gender of your baby. The excitement was enough to keep the two of you up late into the night talking about what it will be like to have a baby boy or girl running around the house. All the baby proofing you would have to do was enough to make you feel like your house might actually be a deathtrap, even when Eddie assured you it wasn’t that bad.

A gentle knock on the door had both of your heads turning to it. “Come in,” you say, and the door opens moments later. The same technician from your last appointment walks in and you’re relieved to see a familiar face.

“Good morning,” she says as she closes the door behind her. “Are we ready to find out what you’re having?”

You and Eddie nod, a fresh batch of goosebumps rising on your skin. The technician moves around the room and does whatever she needs to do to get the monitor ready.

“Go ahead and lay back, and lift your shirt just over your belly,” she says as she pulls a bottle from the counter. As you lean back, she shakes it upside down a bit and squirts some on her finger, wiping it off on the paper towel sitting on the counter.

“Now, this may be little cold at first, but it will warm up as I move the wand, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, a nervous smile on your face.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” Eddie asks, grabbing your hand.

“No, not at all. I’m just going to put a little of this jelly on her stomach and press this wand to it so we can see the baby. You ready?”

You nod and the cold jell hits your stomach with a sound from the bottle.

“Now here comes the wand…” She places the ultrasound wand on your stomach with a light pressure. The screen of the ultrasound machine starts to blur as she moves the jelly around on your stomach. Once she slows down, you’re able to get a more clear picture of the baby growing inside your belly.

It looked weird. Like a baby, but not at the same time. But when you saw it’s little arms moving it made a lump form in your throat.

“Awe, they’re waving at you,” the technician says, holding the wand still.

“Where?” Eddie asks, a clear look of confusion on his face. “I can’t read any of this.”

“See this right here, that’s the head,” the technician points to the large orb on the screen. “This is it’s spine, and this is it’s legs. Right here are it’s little arms.”

“Woah,” Eddie says with a smile as wide as Texas. “Hi little guy.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“What, I want to be polite!”

“Everything is looking good and they seem to be measuring on time, but I can’t say for certain until the doctor checks everything out. I’m going to take a few pictures and then we can check the gender, okay?”

You nod and let her do her thing. She moves the wand and pushes a few buttons on the keyboard, over and over, until she finally moves the wand to where it looks like the baby’s butt would be. A hot wave crashes over you as you realize that this is it.

“Okay, baby is not cross legged so I can see perfectly. Are you ready to know?”

Eddie turns to look at you for your approval. He nods, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes, we’re ready.”

“How was the appointment?” Wayne says as the two of you walk in the door, Bear relaxing over his feet.

“It went really well. We got some new pictures to show you.” Eddie walks over to Wayne and hands him the small print out of pictures the technician gave you to bring home. Wayne grabs his glasses and puts them on, still holding the small prints close to his face.

“Wow, this really looks like a baby now, huh?” He says, looking over to you. Your hand rubs your bump, now starting to show a bit. You’re happy it didn’t come in until after your school year ended, lest the students ask you a million questions.

“What else do you see?” Eddie asks the older man. Wayne looks over the pictures again, eyeing them up and down.

“What’s this last picture?”

“That is your grandson’s little Munson.”

Wayne looks up at Eddie, then over to you. As it all starts to make sense to him, he suddenly jumps up from his chair and jumps around.

“‘T’s a lil boy?! Hot dog, I got myself a new fishin’ buddy?!” His arms wrap around Eddie in a surprise hug as he jumps up and down more, rocking Eddie in the process.

“We had a feeling that you’d say that, so we went and got this.” You pull a bag from behind your back and present it to him, a very obvious smaller version of a fishing pole sticking out of it. It was made for kids, but you’re sure it would work when the baby is big enough.

“I can’t believe this,” Wayne says wiping tears from his eyes. “I would have been this happy if it was a girl, too. But it just feels so--”

“Real?” Eddie says.

“Yeah. I just can’t--I mean, damn it’s really happening.”

“Eddie started crying when she told us,” you say as you lean into him.

“How could I not? I’m gonna have a mini me running around the house!”

“Don’t I know it. I’m putting all this work in for 9 months and I know he’s going to come out looking exactly like you.”

“Hopefully he’s more tame than Eddie was,” Wayne adds, shaking his head. “Eddie used’aa bounce off the walls when he was a toddler.”

“Oh, great, can’t wait for that,” you say with a smile. You truly didn’t care what the baby was going to be like. You hoped he was just like Eddie, in every way.

“Ugh, it’s so hot,” you say as you fan yourself. Even with the shade of your front porch you were still sweating in the unrelenting July heat. It was the hottest summer Hawkins had felt in a while and of course you just had to be almost 30 weeks pregnant right now.

“We can go inside,” Eddie says from the chair next to you, flipping through a mechanics magazine.

“No, the fresh air will be good for the baby.”

“Not if you’re frying in the process. Come on, we can wait for them inside.”

As if right on que, the familiar red beater truck pulled up behind yours in the driveway.

“Hey, the party is here!” Grant shouted from the driver side window.

“Lets get this shit built!” Garreth yells as he pops out of the passenger side, Jeff following after him.

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?” Jeff says as Garreth and Grant start to unload the back of the truck of the boxes that were in the bed.

“I was expecting you all to do the heavy lifting. We are pregnant afterall.” Eddie says as he places his lemonade down, standing up from the chair. Jeff pshes him, slapping a hand on his back before the two of them start moving boxes inside.

The boys had all agreed to help put together furniture as long as they could drink and listen to rock music the whole time, neither of which you minded but you appreciated them asking. You’d been craving some wine during your pregnancy but had been good enough to not indulge yourself, especially after you’d done so well with your sobriety.

“You boys needa hand?” Wayne asks from the front door.

“Naw, we got it pepaw,” Garreth calls, holding the other and of a large box that him and Jeff are carefully maneuvering between the cars in the driveway. You held the door open for them as they entered into the house, stopping to kick their shoes off per your house rule of no shoes in the baby’s room.

Once the boys got everything inside, they immediately plugged in the stereo system and began to fill your house with Pearl Jam’s “Ten” album. Eddie Vedder’s vocals made good background noise as you cleaned up the house. Well to the best of your ability.

Your bump had grown big enough that it was starting to become more difficult to do certain things, like bending over and squatting. But you could still handle most of the chores with out much of Eddie’s help. It was working with chemical cleaners that worried you the most, so you looked into some more natural cleaning remedies and hoped that they were doing what they were supposed to do.

“Anyone ready for lunch? I’ll order some pizzas if you want--Wow, look at you guys go!”

The room was already starting to come together as the furniture was being built. It looked like Eddie and Jeff had the crib almost put together as Grant and Garreth tackled the dresser. You thought this was going to be an all day endeavor but they may get it all done in a few hours.

“You guys are some pretty good handymen!”

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie says as he holds a couple pieces together for Jeff to screw in. “Once we get these big pieces put together we’ll work on getting the shelves up.

“Were you saying something about pizza?” Garreth asks with nails between his lips.

“Yeah, I’ll go ahead and order some. Any special requests?”

“Can you get some cheesy bread, too?” Grant asks.

“Absolutely. Well, I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“Love you, babe!”

You say a quick love you back before waddling down the hall to the kitchen.

After a quick pizza break and some trash TV with Wayne, the boys all erupted into hoots and hollers from the baby’s room.

“What’s all the commotion?” You ask walking into the room.

“I think we’re done!”

You look around the room and really take it in. It looks pretty much complete, sans some decorations and the things you plan to get from your baby shower. It hits you that you’re going to have a baby in this room with you in just a few short months.

“Awe, babe, don’t cry.” Eddie walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you back and forth.

“It just looks so nice. Thank you guys so much,” you say through sniffles.

“Of course, momma,” Jeff says, patting your shoulder.

“Anything for the newest member of Hellfire,” Grant adds.

“And the future frontman of Corroded Coffin 2.0,” Garreth says.

Eddie backs away from you and you take the opportunity to wipe away the tears from your eyes. It was so nice knowing that your baby was already so loved.

“Oh, yes! Just like that!” You moan out into your bedroom, your cries bouncing off of the walls and straight into Eddie’s ears.

He has you just how he likes you; on your back and with your legs spread wide for him. Either of your legs in his grasp to hold up so you don’t have to. Your pretty little head is resting on the pillow while he does all the work of making you squirm under him. Your hands hold your large stomach as his hips crash into yours with each thrust.

He’s doing his damndest not to be rough, but he can’t help that you look so pretty when he fucks you hard. The way you talk so dirty when no one’s around gets him going in a way he can’t even describe other than feral. Each call of his name by you sounds like music to his ears that he wants to play on repeat.

“Fuck, baby, look so good like that,” Eddie groans, watching your swollen tits bounce. “My beautiful girl, all big and round for me.”

“Yes, just for you, Eddie,” you say, your hands flying to the pillow to grip it as he picks up his pace. Eddie takes your leg and rests it on his shoulder, guiding his free hand to your stomach to hold it in place while he fucks you into the mattress. Something about you being pregnant with his child was turning him on to no end. Just the thought of his baby being inside of you drove him crazy.

“Oh, shit I’m gonna--”

“Do it, baby. Cum for me.” Eddie brought his thumb to your sensitive clit and started rubbing sloppy circles in it. Everything with you was so much more sensitive since you’d gotten pregnant, and Eddie loved to take advantage of that whenever he could.

Eddie felt it in your body as you came, the way you clenched around him, legs shaking, eyes rolling into the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture to keep forever. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Eddie says suddenly, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reached his peak. You watch as he comes undone inside of you, filling you up with his spend.

“Oh my god,” Eddie stutters out, head thrown back as he recovers from his orgasm. “That was insane.”

“Come’er,” you reach your hands out for him. He obliges, sliding out of you slowly and plopping down next to you in the bed. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” He asks, hand landing on your stomach.

“Mhmm,” you hum, catching your breath.

“I still can’t believe it. That we’re going to be parents.”

You place your hand on top of Eddie’s and rub your thumb into the back of it. It’s quiet for a moment, but then the two of you feel the baby moving inside of you and laugh.

“Guess he didn’t like all that movement,” you say, watching the way your stomach is pressed from the baby inside you.

“Sorry, bub,” Eddie says with a laugh, “Can’t help that your mom is hot.”

“Hey, thank you for coming!” You wrap your arms around Claudia and Dustin as they exit your house from the back door.

Today is the day of your baby shower and the backyard was already full of guests as they all pile in. Eddie was manning the grill, your brother and his wife talking him up as he cooked the dogs and burgers for everyone. Elanor and your nephews are running around with Bear while Nancy and Robin catch up. Steve and Mike were talking about cars the last you checked in on them. Max, Jane, Lucas and Will are helping set up some last minute decorations. And the band boys were chatting while they set the fire pit up for s’mores later.

“Thank you for inviting us. Here, I made these myself for the little one. There’s something in there for you, too.”

“Awe, thank you, Claudia. That’s so sweet.”

“I’ll take that,” Wayne says as he takes the bag from Mrs. Henderson.

“I helped pick out the colors, by the way,” Dustin says before he leaves to go join the boys at the fire pit.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Claudia asks.

“I feel surprisingly great. Other than my feet swelling in this heat, I don’t think I can complain. Well, besides the nightly gymnastics routine this one seems to want to do whenever I go to bed.”

Claudia laughs, “Yes, Dustin was the same way. It’s like they know when you’re trying to rest.”

“It really does!”

“Mrs. Henderson!” Steve calls out to her and Claudia excuses herself.

Wayne makes his way over to you. “Got an awfully full table of gifts over there,” he says.

“I know, I’m in shock. I knew people would get us stuff, but I didn’t think it would be so much. Hopefully we have room for everything.”

“We’ll make it fit, I promise ya that,” Wayne says with a chuckle.

He looks at you for a moment before leaning in.

“Can I tell ya a secret?”

You whip your head around, shocked to hear that Wayne wants to gossip with you.

“Uh, duh. Lay it on me.”

“Okay,” he starts, “See that girl your brother brought with him. I think you said that’s his wife’s sister?”

“Oh, Tenisha? Yeah she was one of my best friends growing up. She’s just really shy.”

“I can see that by the way she’s been keeping to herself. But, I’ve been watching everyone here, right? Well I think she’s been boring a hole into Harrington since he walked in the door.”

This revelation sparks your interest. Tenisha had a hard time branching out due to her introverted nature, so she didn’t have many boyfriends growing up. For a while you thought maybe she didn’t even like other people all that much.

But, this news was something you could work with.

“Good to know,” you say with coy smile, brain wracking with ways to introduce them.

The rest of the party showed up as time went on. Chrissy and Jason came with their kids, and you got to hold baby Jeremy while she talked your ear off. She even brought you a whole trunk load of old clothes from her boys that you’d be able to use for your baby.

Missy even showed up with her baby, little Henry junior. He looked a lot like Henry, so much that it was almost off putting to you, but you reminded yourself that this party was the celebrate your own baby with the man who loves you now.

“This is a really nice house,” Erica says to Eddie as you help pass out food and refreshments.

“Thanks, man. We’ve really put our all in making it our home these last few months.”

“I’m willing to bet that the missus did most of the decorating,” Jason chimes in.

“Obviously,” you say with a sarcastic tone. “I think the place would be covered with band posters and guitars if Eddie was in charge.”

“Hey, a few decorative guitars wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Grants says in Eddie’s defence.

“Thank you, Grant.”

“It’s going to feel even more like a home once the baby comes,” your brother says. “Don’t you think, Nish?”

Tenisha looks up from her plate like a deer caught in headlights. You want to scold your brother for calling her out, but you know he’s doing it because you told him about her eyes for Steve.

“Y-yes,” she says, voice small, and you’re proud that she was even able to get that much out. She stands still for a moment before suddenly beelining it for you.

“Where’s your bathroom?” She whispers to you. Just as you look toward the house, you notice Steve is heading in that same direction.

“Hey, Steve!”

He stops and looks around to where he heard his name being called, landing on you.

“Can you show Tenisha where the bathroom is?”

Tenisha’s eyes go wide, but you ignore it when Steve agrees and beckons her over. You watch as she wordlessly makes her way over to him.

“Hi, I’m Steve. I don’t think we’ve met,” he says as he follows behind her into the house.

You look around for Wayne to see if he saw your quick move and you found him already looking your way, giving you a thumbs up.

The rest of the party went off without a hitch. Games were played, all the gifts were opened, and you even got to have some cake that Eddie had custom made for the occasion. And, much to your delight, Steve essentially stuck by Tenisha’s side the rest of the night, talking to her about god knows what. She seemed not to mind though, a smile on her face the whole time.

You felt like you were about to burst. People had been chatting you up for over an hour at this point and you were starting to have to go every 30 minutes or so it seemed. When you finally had the chance to excuse yourself, you all but sprinted to the rest room.

Once you relieved yourself, you went to wipe, but thought you felt a strange texture when you did. You decided to check the toilet paper, only to be met with the sight of bright red blood.

Your heart sank at the sight. Getting up you checked your underwear and found nothing there, so it hadn’t been bad enough to spread. But still, you were only 36 weeks at this point, still a whole month out from when the baby was supposed to come. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Eddie,” you say out of instinct. “Eddie!”

You run out to the backyard and find your husband talking with his uncle by the fire. He looks over at you and waves, unable to see you clearly from where you were at the back door.

“Eddie!” The urgency in your voice caught his attention and he immediately popped up from his chair and came trotting to you.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, I’m bleeding.”

“W-what? That’s not supposed to happen now is it?”

You shook your head and Eddie immediately started to panic.

“Uncle Wayne!”

Wayne jumped up from his chair and ran over to where you two were standing.

“What’s goin’ on?”

“She’s bleeding.”

“Bleedin’! Well that doesn’t sound right. You oughta go to the emergency room. Now. I’ll get everyone going.”

You both nod and Eddie takes you by the hand, grabbing his keys off the counter as you enter the house. He barely lets you grab your purse before he’s pulling you into the car and peeling out of the driveway.

Once you get to the hospital, they take you back right away and get you hooked up to a monitor to listen to your baby’s heart beat. There was a sigh of relief when it was strong enough that it could be easily found by the nurse helping you. They ran some tests on you and did a quick check to see if you were dilated at all.

“Nothing yet,” the doctor says. “Not abnormal for you to not be dilated at this point. Have you had any contractions?”

“No, not yet. Should I be?” You ask with concern.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes women experience what feel like contractions at this point, but you’ll know the real thing when the time comes.”

“Why would she be bleeding right now if the baby wasn’t coming?” Eddie asks, hand clasped with yours.

“Well,” the doctor starts, “There are several possibilities, but it’s hard to say for sure. We’ll probably keep you here for monitoring for a few days just to make sure we don’t need to start the delivery process early.”

“Start it early? Will that hurt the baby?” You ask.

“Not at this point. We consider the baby developed enough at this point that delivery is a safe enough option for you. We would just give you a shot of steroids before hand to help with the development of the baby’s lungs before hand. But, for now, we think that you should get some rest.”

The doctor leaves the room and you and Eddie are left there to listen to the sound of your baby’s heart beating. Eddie’s grasp on your hand tightens, and for a moment you think that he might have started crying. You look up at him and are surprised to find that he’s actually laughing.

“Why are you laughing right now?”

“Because,” he raises his head to look at you, “Only my kid would try and pull something like this the day of his party. I always used to ruin my birthday parties because I would get so excited to get gifts.”

That did make you laugh. Which apparently made your son mad because you felt him kicking you, leaving you to sigh in relief. At least he wasn’t in any immediate danger. Though, you were not looking forward to staying in the hospital for a couple days.

“Do you think I’ll be out in time for Monday?”

Eddie looks at you in disbelief. “I don’t think your students are going to mind a substitute for a couple days while you’re in here.”

“I know, I just don’t want to leave them with a bunch of work to do. I’ve been slacking a bit these last couple weeks.”

“I’ll grade the damn papers myself if it means you’ll relax for a couple days,”

“Oh, god, we wouldn’t want that,” you laugh.

You got to go home on Tuesday. It felt cooler out compared to Saturday, so Eddie brought you a sweater to the hospital to keep you warm. The fabric was tight over your large stomach as you walked out into the late September air.

The bleeding eventually stopped on its own and the doctors decided it would be best to let you go home and finish out the rest of your pregnancy. Which you were relieved to hear because that bed was super uncomfortable.

“I just want to go home and take a nice long shower,” you say from the passenger seat. “Then maybe a good nap.”

“Whatever you need, princess. I know that was rough on you,” Eddie says with a hand in yours as he drives.

“It was rough on you, too. I know you were mad they wouldn’t let you stay.”

“They better let me stay when the baby is born. I’ll stand outside the hospital all night if they don’t.”

“They will, Eddie. We already asked, remember?”

“I know. But what if they find out I’m a felon and change their minds?” You can hear the concern in his voice.

“Eddie, they don’t care. Just don’t do anything stupid and there won’t be a problem.”

Eddie scoffs, “You think I would do something stupid?”

“Of course not,” you laugh, “I’m just saying is all.”

Eddie turns into the drive way and cuts the engine. He hops out from the driver side and runs around the car to open your door for you, lending you a hand to help you out of the car.

The two of you enter the house and you immediately head to your baby’s room. It’s filled to the brim with all the gifts you received still needing to be put away from your shower. The need to nest kicks in and you enter the room.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Eddie says, watching you as you start to fold some of the baby clothes.

“It’s a mess in here,” you say, placing a blue nighty into the dresser drawer. “We need to clean up.”

“We can do that later.” Eddie wraps his arms around you from behind and you let out a whine.

“But what if the baby comes tomorrow? He’s going to think we’re slobs!”

Eddie turns you around to face him, holding you with a hand on each arm.

“Later, sweetheart. Let’s get you in the shower and down for a nap first.”

You let out a sigh but ultimately give in.

“Aren’t you due today?” Will suddenly says between bites of his salad. The two of you had a shared lunch and had been spending it together since the beginning of the school year.

“Technically I was due Tuesday,” you say after a long chug of water, “But he doesn’t seem to be ready to come out yet.”

“Have you been feeling anything yet? Like the labor pains?” He asks.

“I’ve had a few contractions but nothing too major. The doctor said it’s normal for babies not to come on their due dates, but I’m ready for him to be out of me now.”

You rub your huge bump. It didn’t seem possible that you were this pregnant. You hadn’t seen your feet properly in weeks, but you certainly can feel them aching. The back pain was out of this world, and all you wanted to do was sit down. But at this paint sitting didn’t seem to be much relief either.

“I’m sure you are. I can’t even imagine what it must feel like.”

“It feels like I’m carrying a 30 pound boulder in my stomach is what it feels like,” you laugh.

But the laugh is cut short by a sharp pain in your lower stomach. Another contraction was hitting you today and this one took your breath away. You hiss, bending slightly as you try your best to work through it. But this one was lasting a lot longer than the others.

Will jumps up from his seat. “Are you okay?” He asks as he hovers over you, hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, just,” you blow out air from your mouth, “This one just really hurts.”

“Shit, is it time?”

“I…I don’t know.”

You couldn’t say no for sure with how this one was feeling. Was it time?

“Do you want me to call Eddie?” Will says before walking over to the phone.

“No, no it’s starting to stop now,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll keep an eye on the time and if it gets worse then I’ll call him.”

“Maybe you should go home, just in case,” Will says with concern.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

But you were not okay. After the third contraction, you decided to call Principal Higgins and let him know what was going on. He told you he would take over your class and that you should go home for the day.

“Hawkin’s Auto Body, this is Sarah speaking.”

“Hi Sarah, is Eddie available?”

“Oh, hey! Yeah, let me go get him!” The receptionist put you on hold and you felt another contraction hit. They were starting to become close together, around 8 minutes apart.

“Babe?” You hear from the other side of the line.

“Eddie, I think it’s time,” you say through gritted teeth.

“What? Really? Where are you?” His tone is frantic and you hear some crashing noises.

“I’m at work. I’m having contractions.” You whine as the feeling grows stronger in your pelvis.

“Oh my god, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ll take your car, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”

After you hung up with Eddie, you braced the cold October air and made your way to your car. You turned it on and sat in the passenger seat while you waited.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you can see the car seat installed in the back seat for this exact occasion. Eddie was smart to put it back there in case the baby came earlier. Ever since your hospital trip, he’d been on top of everything when it came to the baby’s arrival. He helped you decorate, took you shopping for any last minute items you needed, and even prepared a hospital bag for you that sat in your trunk.

It didn’t take long for Eddie you whip into the school parking lot. He found your car and made quick effort to find the nearest spot to park. After he killed the engine, he booked it to your car and hopped in the driver seat.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked before buckling his seatbelt.

“At the moment, yeah. But the contractions are getting closer and closer together as time goes by. I’m due for another any minute.”

“Well, lets’s get going then, momma,” he says, shifting into gear and pulling away.

Eddie got you to the hospital in record time. They wheeled you in, mid contraction as they took you immediately to a laboring room. Everything was a blur as they got you in a gown and prepped you to be checked. When the doctor came in, the first thing he did was check to see how dilated you were.

“You’re already at 4 centimeters,” he said as he pulled his hand away. “I’m surprised you hadn’t come in sooner.”

“She was being stubborn,” Eddie said. He was upset that you had gone on having contractions for so long without calling him sooner.

“I was at work. I didn’t know it was going to get this bad--ooooh!” Another contraction.

“Well good news is that once you get to 5 centimeters things tend to go faster, so you shouldn’t be in labor for too much longer. Did you want to get an epidural?”

“God, anything to help with these pains,” you moan as the contraction wracks through your body. It felt like all your muscles from the waist down were tightening all at once. You were starting to sweat from the pain.

“That looks like fun,” Eddie says as he sips from his little cup of water.

You were bouncing on the exercise ball that the hospital provided for you to try and speed up the labor. The epidural kicked in and though your legs felt funny, the pain had subsided greatly. You still felt the contractions but they weren’t nearly as debilitating as they had been all day.

“It feels like a work out, but I think it’s helping.”

“I’m so excited,” Eddie says before walking over to you, both his hands out for you to take. You place your hands in his and do your best to stand, stepping closer to him until your belly touched his. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“I am, too. Insanely nervous, but excited.”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain between your legs. The sound of water hitting the floor took you by surprise. You felt like you needed to sit down so you reached back for the bed and sat on the edge.

“Shit, babe, I think your water broke!” Eddie ran to the door and yelled out for a nurse to come to your room.

Shit, was this really happening?

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. The nurses and doctor entered the room and it was clear that it was go time. They got you in position on the bed and you could feel something happening between your legs.

“I see the head!” One of the nurses shouted.

“Push, momma push!”

“Oh my god.”

Eddie was shaking beside you. You could feel the trembling in his hand as he held yours. But you didn’t have time to focus on him as you put all your effort into pushing.

You squeezed his hand tight as you did your best to push, feeling the pressure building as you do.

“Yes, keep going! He’s starting to come out!”

“You got this, sweetheart,” you hear Eddie say shakily.

“One more good push!”

You put all your strength into pushing. It was the hardest thing you’ve ever done in your life. There was so much pressure building up and then—

The sound of cries.

You opened your eyes and he was there. The nurses held him as the little baby covered in goo and fluids…was crying.

“It’s a healthy baby boy!”

“Hellooo!”

The sound of Wayne’s voice echoed in the room. He took a step in and Eddie waved him inside.

“Come on in, Grandpa,” Eddie says from his seat next to you. Wayne mozies into the room, a vase full of flowers in hand.

“I brought these for the lovely new momma,” he says, setting them down on your bedside table.

“Thank you, Uncle Wayne,” you say, admiring the flowers.

“Is that my little man over there?” He asks, moving closer to the bed.

You take the bundle in your arms and turn him to face Wayne. “Oh my god,” Wayne’s hand comes to his mouth as he cracks the widest smile.

“Do you want to hold him?” You ask, lifting your son a bit towards him.

“Can I?” Wayne asks, stretching his arms out. You make the slow exchange and Wayne just absolutely lights up. “Wow, I can’t believe it.”

“I know, it’s crazy isn’t it?” Eddie says, standing up to walk over to them.

“I’m sorry ta break it to ya, sweet girl, but this boy is all his daddy,” Wayne says with a chuckle.

“Wait until you see his hair,” Eddie says, gently pulling the little cap off of his sons head to reveal small poodle like curls underneath.

“Oh boy, we’re really gonna be in for it with you, ain’t we?” Wayne asks your son. “Your daddy’s gonna get all the karma from how he was as a kid.”

“All I know is he’s going to get away with murder when it comes to her.” Eddie says nodding to you.

“Is that so? That in love already, huh?”

You nod your head. It was true. As soon as the nurses laid him against your chest you felt that immediately wave of love come over you for your little one. He might as well have hung the moon and stars because he was perfect in your eyes. You weren’t even mad he looked exactly like Eddie. Quite the opposite. Your head swirled with all the trouble that the two of them were going to get to. And they would get away with it by batting their big brown eyes at you.

“Did ya come up with a name for him yet?”

This question made you look to Eddie. You’d been telling everyone that you weren’t sure what name you were going to come up with, but the truth was that you had a name for the baby all along.

“As a matter of fact, we did,” Eddie says walking over to the bed side bassinet. He pushed it over to Wayne, turning it so that the name card was visible to him.

Wayne stepped closer, leaning in to see the name without his glasses.

“Wayne…Wayne Lee Munson. Well…that,” Wayne’s body shook with a sob, “that’s my name.”

“And we thought it would be the perfect name for the next Munson.”

“Ed…” Wayne started to cry. He held your son close and wept. “Little Wayne Munson. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Well look at that little man there. He looks jus like you, don’t he?” Al Munson’s voice rang through the other side of the phone’s receiver. It wasn’t how you wanted to meet your future father in law, but you knew this visit meant a lot to Eddie so you went along with it.

He told you his dad wasn’t a violent man, but he sure looked like it. Eddie looked so much like him, down to the way they both hunched over a bit when they sit. It was almost scary to think about what Eddie could have become if he hadn’t gotten out of prison when he did.

“I’m glad you guys came out,” Al says, “Was worried I wouldn’t get to see ‘em til he’s ten.”

“We’re glad to be able to make it. I’m sure you’re excited to meet him.”

“And the misses, too. Eddie’s told me a lot about you in his letters.”

“Hopefully all good things,” you say into the receiver that’s between yours and Eddie’s head. Al laughs, and it sounds like a raspier version of Eddie’s.

“Oh, yeah. You’re gonna make a great Munson. Wish I could be there to see it.”

“I wish you could, too, dad.”

“We’ll make sure you get lots of pictures.”

“I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” Al says, leaning into the glass. “Lemme get a better look at’em.”

Eddie moved the phone to his ear as you reposition, standing slightly so you can show off your baby. You watch as his lips move but can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. I feel bad for her because you know how I was as a kid…Yep, Wayne said the same thing.”

Al’s hand touches the glass near where you’re son is. It makes you feel for him. A man stuck in a cage, just outside of reach of what he wants.

“Okay, old on,” Eddie says holding the phone out to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, really? Okay.” You swap with Eddie, handing Wayne to him and taking the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, darlin’,” Wayne says. “Just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

You felt your stomach turn. Was he going to grill you on if you were good enough for his son?

“Now, I won’t say anything, and you can give me simple answers if you want. But I want you to answer truthfully.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, is my boy treating you right? He’s not been hittin’ on you or anything?”

The line of questioning took you by total surprise.

“Oh my god, no,” you say shaking your head. “Eddie is the sweetest man I’ve ever met in my life.”

Al smiles the same as Eddie.

“That’s what I wanted to hear. Now, he’s been pullin’ his weight around the house, too, right?”

“Absolutely,” you assure him.

“Good, good. Been helpin’ with the little one?”

“Yes, more than I ever could have asked for.”

Eddie was made for fatherhood. Even at his most tired, he still does whatever he can with Wayne. Changes him, helps bathe him, cleans up so you can feed him. He cooks and cleans. Any little thing you ask he does without a single complaint.

“Wonderful. Eddie’s a tough one, so but I’m glad to see he has a soft side to ‘em. If he ever gets outta line, you just go ahead and give me a call, got it? I got some people on the outside who will set him straight for ya.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to, but I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckle.

“Alright, darlin’, go ahead and give me back to Ed.”

You hand the phone back over to Eddie and do another swap with Wayne.

“What the hell did you ask her, old man?”

Al laughs on the other side of the glass. You let the two of them talk it out for the rest of the visit. You weren’t sure the next time you three would be able to make it out to see him, so you made sure to say your goodbyes before leaving.

The house is warm and filled with the smell of food cooking from the kitchen. As you do your best to prep, Eddie is sitting snugly on the couch holding baby Wayne in his arms. They’re watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on the tv; well, Eddie is narrating everything for Wayne. But Wayne seems to love listening to Eddie talk, starting up at him with those big brown eyes that you love so much.

“Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched,” Eddie says to Wayne, pointing at you.

“I can’t help it, you guys are just so cute.”

You’re about to check on the food again when you hear a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Eddie shouts from the couch.

The door opens and begins to fill with familiar faces. Dustin and Lucas enter first, bickering about god knows what, followed by Mike, Jane, Max and Will who look fed up at the former two.

“Hey guys!” You say as you approach, offering to take coats as they come in. Eddie stands up from the couch and walks over to Dustin and Lucas.

“Whatever you guys are going on about can end now,” Eddie says as he hands the baby to Lucas, “and you can hold this one while I go take a piss.”

“I’ll take that, thank you,” Max says as she slips between Dustin and Lucas, taking your son in her arms and walking away. “Awe aren’t you just the cutest!”

“Hey, he was handing him to me,” Lucas says with a scoff.

“You’ll have your turn later, Auntie Max needs her baby time now.”

Lucas pauses for a moment before leaning into Dustin.

“She looks pretty cute with a baby, doesn’t she?”

Dustin elbows Lucas, “Make your own then, sheesh.”

“Can I see him?” Jane says as she walks up to Max, who shows him off to her.

“He seriously is so cute.” Max says, lightly bouncing Wayne in her arms.

“Thanks, I think so, too,” you chuckle.

Another knock at the door takes your attention away from the girls for a moment. You shout for them to come in and the door opens to reveal Steve and Robin with two handfuls of gifts.

“Oh my god, let me take those,” you say rushing over to them. “What is all this stuff?”

“It’s for the baby, duh,” Robin says, handing you some of the stuff from her hands.

“All of this is for Wayne?”

“Not all of it,” Steve says, making his way to your tree to set his gifts down. “There’s more in the car.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” you say, shaking your head.

“Woah, Santa came early,” Eddie says as he rounds the corner. He walks over to Robin to take the rest of the gifts and joins Steve by the tree.

“We said we were going to spoil him,” Robin says with a shrug.

Suddenly something small runs into the house, past you and onto Mike’s leg.

“Woah!”

“Uncwel Mikey!” Elanor squeals.

“Is this where the party is?” Jonathan says as he enters the house, followed by Nancy and baby Amelia.

“It smells so good in here,” Nancy says as she gives you a side hug.

“Thank you! You guys didn’t have to bring anything,” you say, eyeing the tin of cookies that Jonathan was holding.

“It was nothing. I was in a baking mood, so those aren’t the actual cookies that are in there.”

“Well come on in and set them in the kitchen. I need to check on everything anyway.”

Nancy and the baby follow you inside to the kitchen, Jonathan hot on her heels. “I’ll be back for you,” she says when she passes Max holding baby Wayne.

As you enter the kitchen, the timer for the turkey goes off. You grab your oven mitts and pull it out of the oven, prepping the thermometer to check that it’s cooked all the way.

“Wow, you made a whole turkey?” Nancy says impressed.

“I wanted there to be enough for everyone” you say, reading the temperature, “and it was cheaper than a ham. Got it on sale actually!”

“Looks good!” Jonathan says, setting the cookies on the table.

“Holy shit, Steve she made a turkey!” Robin yells from the kitchen doorway.

“I thought she didn’t know how to cook?!” Steve shouts from the living room.

“I’ve picked up a few things being a housewife, Steve!” You shout back at him.

“Hows motherhood treating you?” Nancy asks, moving to stand next to you.

“Honestly,” you start, “it’s been a crazy ride.” You pause for a moment, thinking about all the sleepless nights and endless feedings. But you think about your sweet baby and the man who has been helping you make it all possible and sigh. “But, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“I know what you mean,” she says bouncing Amelia on her hip. “It’ll get harder when you have another, but it really is worth it.”

Another? You hadn’t really thought about having another baby just yet. You were still in the throws of first time motherhood that you barely had time to think about anything else. But, who knows, maybe you’ll have another. One day at a time.

You hear a commotion from the living room and assume the rest of the boys have arrived when you hear their collective voices.

“There’s my man,” you hear Jeff say.

“God, he looks just like you, Eddie,” Grant says, making you smile.

“Yeah, I apologize to her for it every day,” Eddie says with a laugh.

Nancy and Robin help you finish everything up in the kitchen while the rest of the party is entertained by your son in the living room. They all take their turns holding him until he ultimately started crying and needed his momma.

“Alright, dinner is ready, everyone,” you say from the doorway. Walking over to Steve, who was currently holding Wayne, you extend your hands to take the crying baby.

“Shh, it’s alright, mommy is here,” he says, gently bouncing Wayne in his arms.

“Damn, you’re a natural, Steve,” you say as you take Wayne from him.

“You think so,” he says standing up from the couch. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” you say with a sly smile, “How are things going with Tenisha?”

“Great!” He says, clapping his hands together excitedly. “The long distance sucks, but Robin and I are going to drive out to see her for new years.”

“That sounds like it’ll be a good time!” You say and he nods. Wayne lets out another cry and you’re reminded that it’s time to feed him. “Go and get some food, I gotta feed the little one.”

You walk back into the bedroom and let Wayne nurse for a bit, calming him down instantly. A few minutes go by and you hear a knock on the door.

“I’m not decent,” you shout to the door.

“It’s just me,” you hear Eddie say as the door begins to open, him shuffling inside with a plate in his hand. “I brought you something to snack on while you’re in here.” It was more than just a snack. Eddie had made you a whole plate and brought it to you.

“Awe, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did,” he says with a chuckle. “Or else there might not have been anything left for you by the time you were done.”

“So everyone likes the food?” You ask with a bit of hope in your voice. Eddie nods, and you sigh with relief. “Thank god.”

“It’s honestly really good,” Eddie says bringing a roll to your mouth. You take a bite and had to admit he was right.

“Eddie,” you say in a wobbly tone, feeling tears starting to well in your eyes.

“Yes, my love?” He says turning to look at you.

“Thank you so much,” you say with a sniffle.

“The roll was that good?” He asks with a laugh.

You shake your head, “No, no, I mean…Just thank you. For everything. I’ve never felt so complete in my whole life and it’s all thanks to you.”

Eddie goes to open his mouth to say something, but closes it. He suddenly sits up from the bed, walking over to his nightstand and opening the drawer. He pulls out a piece of paper and looks it over before holding it to his chest.

Walking back, he plops back on the bed and clears his throat. “Um, this is something I’ve been working on for a while,” he says fidgeting with the paper. You look at it, then back to him. It was covered in his sloppy hand writing and you were instantly brought back to all the letters you’ve shared between the two of you. The ones that brought you together.

“It was originally going to be my wedding vows to you, but it’s gotten so long that I don’t think anyone is going to want to sit and listen to me while I talk on and on. So I just…I guess I’m ready to share it with you now.”

“Okay,” you say barely above a whisper, extremely intrigued as to what he has to say.

“Alright, here it goes,” Eddie says clearing his throat again.

“To my future wife,

It’s always going to be hard to put into words exactly how you make me feel. I could write poetry, could write you a song, could buy a plane and fly the words across the sky. But none of that will ever be enough. So I’ll do what I do best and write you this letter.

Not a day has gone by since we met that I don’t think about you. Even when I was still locked up, the thought of you played on my mind a lot. To me, I felt an instant connection with you. It might not have been love at first, but I knew that you were going to mean something to me. With every passing letter that turned into phone calls, that turned into us meeting for the first time, I only realized that you were put into my life for a reason. And that reason has become clearer with every day that I get to spend waking up next to you and being blessed by a God I don’t believe in with the grace of your smile.

Now that I have you in my life, I don’t think I can ever imagine a life without you in it. I want to spend every possible moment with you that I can, even the bad ones. I can’t wait until the day we’re old and grey and sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch while we watch the sun go down. Because then I’ll know that I have lived a full, one by your side.

Now that we’re going to be parents, which I still can’t believe, I want to make sure that I’m there for you no matter what. We probably won’t get married until after the baby is born, but I hope you know that we don’t have to do things the traditional way. I’ve never been normal, but I think you know that by now. So lets just do things how we want to from here on out.”

“This last part I wrote recently,” he says, pointing at the paper, avoiding looking at you.

“Wow, I really can’t believe we’ve earned the title of mom and dad already. Nothing could have prepared me for first time parenthood, but I’m glad I have you by my side to go through it. You’ve been nothing short of amazing as a mom and I couldn’t be more proud of you. I think Wayne has been the missing puzzle piece that we didn’t even know we needed in our lives. He rounds out our family in such a positive way that I sometimes feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. That’s how too good to be true my life with you feels. I don’t know what the future holds, but no matter what happens, I know that you and I will be able to work it together as a team.

I guess I should wrap this up and give it to you before Wayne goes to college. Just know I love you so much and I always will. Never forget that, my love.”

Eddie turned to look at you, not even surprised to see the mess you’d become. Tears streaked your cheeks and you were holding in a sob that kept trying to escape.

“E-Eddie…” you say, leaning into him, finally letting it out with a little cry. “That was so sweet. I don’t even know what to say.”

Eddie kisses the crown of your head before resting his cheek against it.

“You don’t have to say anything. I already know how you feel. You make sure I know it every day. This is just my own way of saying thank you.”

You held your baby tight in your arms, suddenly overwhelmed at the life you’d been given. The man next to you loved you and you loved him. You were going to get married and spend the rest of your days together. As a family.

thank you all so much for reading!

#eddie munson #on the outside #inmate!eddie munson #inmate!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson st #eddie munson stranger things

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youreyeson1y · 7 months ago

Text

still got so much to find out

pairing: bang chan x producer!reader(f)

title:i like it by stray kids (album: ate)

cw: swearing, mentions of drinking/getting drunk

synopsis: chan thought there was something between you both, but when he saw you put your arms around hyunjin's waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he began questioning the whole situation.

tags: fluff, mutual pining-ish, miscommunication-ish heh, stubid :( and petty chan, minor minho + chan bonding, loong exposition, hwang siblings = real siblings (!!)

link: ao3

note: there were some issues with the povs I faced while writing this, so for the first part, it'll be in 2nd person, while the last 3/4th of the story is in 3rd person. sorry for the confusion !

word count: 2.9k

enjoy !

“I think you need help, man.”

“What’chu talking about, I’m fine.” The man you were basically carrying on one shoulder tried to stand up, tripping over his feet and words.

“See?” He stumbled, standing up on one foot to prove his sobriety. “Are you proud of me now?” He flashed an endearing smile at you. Your face flushed at the sudden eye contact. You covered it with a groan as Chris fell right into your arms again.

Instead of the quiet evening you had planned, you had never imagined that you'd end up spending your Sunday night at a restaurant watching over eight guys drinking as if it's their last day and telling a very drunk Christopher that you were proud of him for standing up.

You turned around as you heard a click sound behind you, and saw a chuckling Felix clicking pictures of their leader.

“Aw man,” Jeongin looked over his shoulders. “That has such good blackmail potential.”

“Or a really cute birthday post.” Felix cackled.

“Hey, come on now guys, don’t—” Felix turns his screen towards you with a smirk. “—forget to send that picture to me. Anyway, instead of smiling like fools, come here and help me get him in the car.”

Changbin and Jisung walk towards you, followed by Minho and Seungmin, who were the most sober of the bunch, and helped carry Chan off of your shoulders.

“Hey, no, wait,” Chris whined as soon as Changbin pulled him off of you, his senses seeming to come back to him. “Let me drop you home, y/n.”

“Chan,” Your eyes went soft with a smile. “I would love to, but neither of us are sober enough to drive, and I—”

“She's coming with me, man, not with your drunk ass,” Hyunjin walked over, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. “Lets get going, y/n. We can't be late.”

As you gave Christopher’s hand a squeeze and walked over towards Hyunjin, it felt as if you had squeezed the life out of Chris.

Had he misunderstood you this whole time?

As Chris sat sandwiched between Jisung and Changbin in the backseat, he saw you and Hyunjin get into another car while you were giggling with an arm casually wrapped around his waist.

As you got into the car, he saw Hyunjin hand you a present.

Chris thought you and him had something going on; he didn't know what, but he sure felt something. And those feelings were stronger this evening, when each smile he brought out of you made his heart ache and his lips twitch up.

But was it only him who was feeling that way?

“You okay, Chris?” Minho called out from the driver's seat, looking over at him with concerned eyes. “I've never seen you drink so much.”

“Ah, yeah, don't worry about me,” He rubbed his face with a groan, the effect of the alcohol making him tired. He smiled as he felt Changbin and Jisung’s heads fall on his shoulders with a soft thud. “You know how hectic it has been with the new single. I guess I just wanted to let loose for a moment.”

“I get it,” Minho paused, debating on whether to continue or not. “I just… I hope you're not pushing yourself too much, Chan. We're here to help you if you need… and y/n’s here too. So just, reach out, okay?”

“Mhm,” Chris smiled. “I will. Thanks, Minho.”

Usually it would seem weird that they were having a heart to heart after a night-out when one of them was sober, but Chris understood where Minho was coming from.

It was unusual for Chris to drink, let alone get drunk, so he might think that something was on his mind for him to drink like that.

But little did Minho know, it wasn't something, but rather someone.

Chan wasn't even planning on drinking, knowing he had a producing session the next day, but when his stupid friends suggested a game of a shot for a secret, he couldn't help but comply, intoxicated not by the soju, but by the need to learn more, to know more about you.

But as he remembered seeing you wrap an arm around Hyunjin as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Christopher didn't know what to feel.

The only thing he was sure of now was that no matter how he felt, the feelings of his brother came first; he could never do something that would hurt Hyunjin, or put you in an awkward position.

Y/N, although a fairly new producer at JYPE, was already popular amongst other artists. She had almost received a celebrity status, when even the public knew a song produced by y/n was sure to top the charts.

But as a kpop fan since her younger days, for y/n, her job was more like a paid hobby, where she got to meet and collaborate with other artists.

So, when she was proposed to co-produce several songs for Stray Kids’ new album, she jumped at the opportunity; not only because of the group’s popularity, but also because she was a die-hard fan of the group.

She was obsessed with their music, their vision and the momentous impact they’d had on artists and fans around the globe— she felt honored that she would be able to leave her mark amongst their talent.

She was excited to work with them; even while casually greeting them in the halls of the building, she found their energy to be highly contagious. And that feeling remained when she became close friends with the members only after a few weeks of working with them.

While becoming friends with all the members, y/n couldn't help but want something more with a special member.

Maybe she did have a tiny crush on him even before they started working together; greeting him in the elevator or bumping into him while getting coffee used to be the highlight of her day.

But after spending more time together, it wasn't just his extremely handsome face, but he became incredibly attractive to her once she saw the way he treated those around him, his commanding but caring personality and his charming aura.

Being co-producers, she always had to spend time with him, and looking at him in his element, his passion is what made her look up to him as a fellow artist too.

Y/n was down bad, but how couldn't she be?

Because the person living rent free in her head was Christopher Bang of all people.

But what excited her, was the fact that maybe she wasn't the only one feeling that way—

From asking her to hang out with them during dance practice, to purposefully going on coffee-runs together, or going on late night drives on the guise of dropping her home when both of them knew they had drivers.

Y/n couldn't help but feel delusional and believe that Chan was doing these small gestures as a way to spend more time with her.

And maybe. Just maybe, her suspicions were proven right last night, when in a crowded restaurant, it felt like it was just the two of them.

As the group decided to go out to celebrate, everyone expected Chan to look after them, as always, and stay relatively sober for his session the next day. But contrary to popular belief, when y/n saw him gulp down shot after shot to know more about her, y/n couldn't help but feel special.

As the other members were immersed in their own conversation, Chris and y/n were in a different world.

They shared their hopes and dreams and desires, and the moment that y/n knew that this moment counted for something, that it was different, is when Chris told her, the most relaxed and genuine she had ever seen him, that “It's nice being just Chris, for once. Thank you for not being bored of Christopher y/n.”

She knew as a leader, and as a performer in general, how much responsibility Chris had to shoulder on a daily basis. And hearing him say that made y/n feel somewhat proud of herself, for letting him let go for once.

In the dead of night, when half the city was asleep, she whispered in the softest voice, almost unknowingly, as she helped him walk out of the restaurant.

“I think I'm in love with you, Chris.”

But as he stumbled over invisible rocks, y/n felt thankful for drunk Chris because spilling it out like that felt like a mistake.

But once hearing it out loud, she understood these feelings were here to stay, so she decided she would have a conversation with him once he sobered up.

But now, roughly an hour had passed of them sitting uncomfortably in the recording booth, and for the life of her, y/n couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with Christopher Bahng.

As she had entered the recording booth an hour ago, she’d felt herself smiling instinctively as she saw Chris sitting on the couch, nervously clutching the hangover medicine in her hands.

“Hey,” Y/n stood in front of him with an uncharacteristically nervous smile. “How are you? Yesterday was wild, right? I brought hangover medicine for you… I wanted to make sure—”

“Oh, I'm okay.” Chan replied nonchalantly, not looking up from his phone. “Just so you know Changbin and Jisung will be late, so you can probably save it for them, I guess.”

This was different.

Chris, no matter how busy or preoccupied he was, always made an effort for the other person, may it be the other members or a polite barista.

The thought hitting her like a pile of rocks, y/n realized what if he had actually heard her confession last night and this was his way of rejecting her?

But no matter what, they still had to work on the songs together, and y/n thought maybe this was for the best, so that they could still continue working together as if nothing had happened, because no matter what, y/n did not want her own feelings to meddle with Stray Kids’ performance.

But as an hour had passed with them making little to no progress on the new song, y/n was fed up.

They usually had such good chemistry, and it felt like their production and arrangement styles merged perfectly, but honestly, she felt like Chris was being a major asshole now.

Chan was working as if she wasn't even in the room, or when she made a suggestion, he added it without as much as a thought, making her feel as if he was just humouring her.

Okay, maybe it was hard to work with someone you know has a crush on you, but did he have to act as if he couldn't even stand when your hands brushed together?

Y/n was hurt, but as a workaholic, she was also frustrated by his closed-off behavior. She was surprised too, because she knew how much Chan valued his work, so it made no sense for him to be acting this way.

“Okay, man.” Y/n finally snapped, when they'd been replaying the same three second audio clip from the last fifteen minutes. “What's your problem?”

“What's my problem?” Chan had the audacity to act surprised. Y/n hated how she still found his accent attractive in this situation. “I don't know, maybe you'd like to answer that when you've been the one silently just sitting here s—”

“What else do you expect me to do when you don't even want to acknowledge my presence in the room?”

“What do—”

“Okay you know what,” Y/n had to address the elephant in the room, or else they'd be going back and forth the whole day. “I know I fucked up, okay? And I guess you must hate working with me now, but can we just forget about it and act like nothing happened? I swear I won't do anything weird.”

“Wait a minute, back up;” Chan’s face flushed. “Can you tell me exactly what you're talking about? Did… did something happen last night?”

“What the hell, man” Y/n wished the ground would swallow her at this point. “You want me to say it aloud? Is this your way of making me more embarrassed than I already am?”

“No, I—”

“I confessed, okay? I said it.” She blurted. “And now you're uncomfortable, I understand, but please try to—”

“You confessed… to me?”

“Are you dumb? Of course, Christopher, who else?”

“Wait but,” He didn't know what to feel, happy or distressed. “What about Hyunjin?”

“Hyunjin? What about him? I—” Y/n was confused, but then her eyes opened wide in realization as she covered her mouth in shock.

“Oh my God, are you with Hyunjin?! Shut up, I'm so sorry! He did tell me he was with someone but I never thought… Oh my God, Chris, I never meant to—”

“What the actual fuck? No?!” Christopher stopped her, unable to hear her talk about this for another moment. “I'm not with Hyunjin, okay? We're literally like brothers. And why aren't you mad… aren't you dating Hyunjin?”

“Me… and Hyunjin? Ew, no!” Y/n looked like she was about to throw up. “He literally is my brother. Well, my cousin, but still. What the hell, what made you think we were together?”

“Hold up, you guys are cousins?”

“Well, yeah. I mean we didn't want to be public about it because people may think I got the job only because of him. Honestly I thought he told you guys, but it may have slipped his mind.

"And I didn't think it was my place to tell you guys, so I guess its kind of like a secret?” She scratched her head. “But what made you think we were together?”

“Well,” It was Bang Chan’s turn to be embarrassed now. “Last night I saw him give you a present and you both went together to—”

“Don't even finish that sentence.” She made a mental note to have a talk with Hyunjin and the members and finally tell them about their relationship, otherwise she was going to loose her mind. “It's Ye-ji’s birthday today, remember? Since the three of us are close, Hyunjin and I had planned a little something for her to wish her at midnight. So the present you saw was for Ye-ji, not me.”

“Oh.” The silence that followed was the most awkward moment of Chris’ life.

After what felt like eternity, it felt like the ice had finally been broken has they broke out into unfiltered laughter once they met each other's eyes.

“Wait,” Y/n smirked. “Does that mean you were jealous, Chris?”

“Whatever,” Chris gave her an endearing smile, the same one from last night. “I was okay? I was jealous, and I'd never felt anything like that before. I just didn't want to put either of you in a difficult position, which now I realize was a pretty stupid move from my side because I guess I could've simply just asked either one of you.” Both of them chuckled.

Chris gently took y/n’s hands in his as he continued.

“So, I tried to distance myself from you. But I realized, I just couldn't. We're a great team, and I think it's because we truly understand and know each other, which is a surprise, because I've never felt like this about anything or anyone in a long time.

“And not only that, you're one of the most talented and amazing people I've had the honour of knowing. Unfortunately, I do not remember what you said last night, so, I'm going to shoot my shot and hope i don't make a fool of myself.

"I think I'm in love with you, Y/n. It may be a risk, but you're a risk I'm willing to take. So I want to ask you, y/n, would you please—”

Before he could finish, Y/n, misty-eyed and overjoyed, reached forward to kiss him, and she felt relieved when she felt him smile against her.

“I guess that's a yes?” Breathlessly, Chris smiled.

“Yes, yes, yes… A thousand times yes, Christopher Bang!” Y/n laughed. “I think I'm in love with you, too. You—”

The two of them jumped in their seats as they heard something fall. As they turned their heads, they saw Changbin and Jisung standing near the door, looking at everything but them.

“Oh, hey, guys, didn't notice you there!” Jisung said in an extremely high-pitched voice. “How are you?”

Changbin, the voice of reason for once, smiled knowing. “We were going to say that we're sorry we're late, but I guess you did not really feel our absence.”

Chris knew that smirk— it was that of him winning a bet. “We can complete this song another day if you want.” Changbin said, smacking Jisung on the head for acting so dumb.

“It's okay guys,” Y/n wanted to die. She knew she was never going to live this down. “We were just waiting for you—”

“No, you know what, thanks, Binnie.” Chris held y/n’s hand with a smirk as they stood up and walked towards the door. Chris knew they were not going to live this down anyway, so he might as well take this opportunity. “We'll let you know when we'll be free. Don't call us!”

As Chris and y/n walked out of the room in a fit of laughter, they heard Changbin laugh just as loud.

“Sweet!” Changbin cackled. “I’m gonna be 50 dollars richer!”

a/n: honestly i never really thought how hard it would be writing an xreader fic, because at one point i literally started using you as a name instead of a pronoun lol. literally was so much harder and i had actually written a snippet weeks ago before i abandoned it due to writer's block but then ate dropped (go stream y'all !!) and the new era has been living rent free in my head, so that gave me the motivation to finally get back to that and make it what it is today lol.

my first xreader and honestly channie was the best person as my muse ♡ i can only say i may write more hehe

i hope you enjoyed and please lmk what you thought and leave comments in my ask box, on ao3 or the tags !! requests are also welcome ♡

untill next time 💌

bang chan masterlist

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court-jobi · 5 months ago

Text

How'd You Know (I Needed This)

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's (sleepy) characters/work))

Pairing: Aizawa x reader (American!Pro Hero fem!reader, set before the events of Season 1)

Words: 4.9K

Rating: T+

Warnings: Aizawa has feelings and doesn't know what to do with them, alcohol mentions, slow burn, he fell first she fell harder, the feeling is mutual TM

Summary:

Shouta Aizawa surrenders his capture weapon for the night in favor of humoring Hizashi, and is rewarded for his follow-through at his show. He wants to know you, more than he has from teaching the brats alongside you for the last few months. Wants to know the smile that reaches your eyes more intimately.

He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you -out from all their eyes inside- to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

A/N: I've been WAITING for this one, turn it up!!! Aizawa my beloved, I've wanted to write you for so, so long and can only hope I can do you justice. The man just has such a gentle side and I just wanted to give him something nice and self-indulgent~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Damn it, why was he thinking like this? He’s in public for goodness’ sakes, with only two sips of drink under his belt. Not two drinks- two sips of a drink. So if that’s the case of his sobriety, why was he off in his own little headspace as if he were drunk?

‘Put Your Hands Up Radio’ found its home recording studio attached to this lounge: a place Shouta Aizawa never frequented unless expressly invited- or when Eraserhead was needed to scout out trouble. Far too noisy, too chatty, and filled with too many grown adults losing their sensibilities for his liking.

Through one round of begging or another, he’d been roped into joining some of the staff of UA to an evening out, in support of Present Mic. Naturally, Aizawa would go- as his presence would all but guarantee everyone else’s. Despite begrudging the plans that pushed himself out of his preferred rest mode, he kept true to his word for Hizashi’s sake.

Promise kept, and therefore, appears to have been rewarded.

Once the show wrapped for the night, his best friend was over the moon at how things were turning into a party that Friday night. After a day of shrill, whinging teenagers he’d wrangled all week, this level of volume was honestly the last thing he needed. Yamada’s voice doubled the decibel of the entire room- and that’s without his quirk activated. He always managed to annoy Aizawa when he started fangirling about one duet matchup or another.

But truthfully? Every sound this tired hero registered around him fell to white noise while he looked at you…

Sweet Little Miss, you are; gracing the lounge with your presence. You’re a vision tonight. Insist with your lilting dip to your words they all call you by your first name, outside of school grounds and against what’s considered custom. No hero titles either, unless an emergency called for formalities- then you’d cave.

These Americans are too casual. Even down to these outfits. What’s this– black turtleneck, necklace she won’t leave alone- moving it around her thumb like that, short skirt.. and those damn thigh highs and tights. How is it she’s driving that moped of hers, wearing something like this…

Everything on your person, down to the way you held yourself in perfect confidence and ease adorned you like a perfectly-styled pro hero. It couldn't be a more stark contrast to his tried and true wardrobe. Even this after-hours look sat perfectly around each bend and curve of you, as you listened to the group.

You’re smiling, too. It’s subtle, but it reaches your eyes, which makes it all the more authentic.

A smile he shouldn’t want to keep all to himself. Curves he really should have no business noticing. Features that he’s actually surprised he’s labeling as ‘attractive�� in his mind because the last time he ever felt an ounce of attraction to anyone in that way, he’d barely been able to grow facial hair.

Desire for a safe place to land his dizzying mind is driving his tired sights to look to you for relief again and again in the conversation– without you even saying a single word.

The barely-touched drink in his hand is only a prop; something to make him blend into the scene and not something he’s actually tasting for pleasure… meaning, these are his thoughts. Nearly completely sober. Should be illegal. Just illegal-

"Yo Sho, you still with us, sleepyhead?"

Yamada pulled him out of his thoughts. Disguising any flare of being put on the spot, Aizawa flitted his absent gaze back to his blond friend–

"Be nice. He’s had a rough day and is a good enough sport by being here,” you chirped up catching Yamada’s pull for Aizawa to part from the fringes of your little gathering.

Now toward you? He’ll soften his edge. After all, with you sticking up for him with blind loyalty, he nearly felt guilty for spacing out and causing you to speak up in the first place.

“- yknow, I'm inclined to take a nap myself," you leaned forward to grab a few more calamari bites to tend to your seemingly insatiable appetite. Aizawa felt warm at the sweetness and straightened up at Yamada’s prodding.

From then on, he made sure to look in your direction more often when you spoke to help him pay attention. He still didn't say much, never did. But he liked the company well enough.

These nights were truly few and far between. Life as an in-demand hero left him jumping from role to role, daytime and midnight obligations. The routine split his waking hours and stretched them paper thin. Now more than ever, he typically shirked as much off time as he was offered. And yet, he had to remember to prioritize levity and breaks– and in this case, indulge his treasured friend’s interests and ‘take one for the team’. Good for morale, he reasoned, just this once.

The occasion was also a way for you to integrate with the group in an informal setting– great for the transplant from the States. You’ve taken amicably to the group of alumni-turned-faculty at UA, though much still remained a mystery about you, presently being peeled back bit by bit through stories and slips of the tongue. There was only so much a dossier could truly reveal about a person- even one curated by S.W.O.R.D. to volunteer aid their Japanese counterparts in their hero work.

It couldn’t tell what kind of teacher you’d turned out to be. Even with no experience working with students, you tread the line between instilling team-centered outlooks and pushing their quirk’s limitations to their max benefit. A crafty, inventive counterpart to complement his blunt teaching style: better together, and even the principal agreed.

It couldn’t point out where your true ambitions lie or where your drive came from. There remained much to be explained as far as your hero status here in Japan– a red-tape nightmare Aizawa was still intrigued to learn about. So far, you’d shared some limitations about “immigration statuses are being vetted with a fine toothed comb, so they’re still trekking through the paperwork”, so your wings are essentially clipped down to a student’s provisional license. This doesn’t please you too much, but you’re driven as much as his finest students with the aire of a professional he’d love to see in full action.

It couldn’t explain the stillness you could dip into, that he only caught once or twice when you believe yourself alone. There’s a past was weighing your shoulders level and compliant in the eyes of the law… but an urge to push back and ‘play this out’ brought hypotheticals to your lips whenever you chatted about what hero life is like for him, and added a sparkle to the eye that he had yet to fully source.

It couldn’t give away the gentleness you hold behind a carefully guarded smile– even in this harsh hero world. Maybe it was that indomitable spirit that those foolhardy patriots overseas carried… or rather, maybe it was the way you fought against such a loud persona. So far, Aizawa has taken only a few notes, but each little mental post-it was cluttering up his headspace. You held a quiet love of tea, a comical passion for the oxford comma, and a mind to care for the little things in life– like the lizards you rescue in an inverted cup to take outside where they belong .

Surely life must have treated you hard to elicit such softness. Something tenderized you to achieve the peace you carry around or else you’re wearing a damn good mask. No, he determines you had to have made a choice to continue on the path that’s brought you to the present– even to this table where you’re taking your fill of maki rolls while casting little caring glances his way.

All smiles and calm surety, as he mills through his thoughts that are damn near obsessed with you.

An employee file could never record ‘heart’, anymore than it could expose anything you didn’t want to reveal.

The night progresses while Aizawa stews on these thoughts, and plenty of others… for the ones that drift to his co-teacher offer him more mental stimulation than that he finds in the club’s lights and music.

Yamada’s night of filling his social battery was made nearly perfect by the karaoke that just started. Several of the other teachers got preoccupied in round after round of song, so it left Aizawa with a moment's peace.

Well, peace he was going to enjoy by laying back on the couch for a little shuteye– when his gut jumped at the feeling of a hand trailing up his forearm to the elbow with a polite, companionable touch.

Facing its owner, Aizawa caught your little smirk and nod towards the balcony. You didn't pull hard, yet he followed like a magnet out to the patio.

From there, rather than stay by the door to listen in on their friends ‘releasing their inhibitions and feeling the rain on their skin’, you took him to the right, where a matching lounge set positioned itself in a blind spot between the rooftop bar and the fire escape.

"Thought you looked like you could benefit from some soundproofing~" you brushed your hair back over one shoulder to follow the breeze’s direction, and left an open spot next to you by the railing.

Nightlife and neon didn’t hold magic for Eraserhead given as many nights as he’s spent perched on precarious heights, but through a newcomer’s eyes, he could see the appeal. This part of the city glowed at night from dusk to dawn, and you clearly loved looking out over it; Aizawa certainly didn't mind this view either.

Your perception skills are spot on, and incredibly thoughtful as you’ve suggested some fresh air- for his sake. If he wasn’t drawn to you any of the other times he’s paid attention to the spastic moths a more romantic person might call ‘butterflies’ before… this cements each and every one as valid.

He likes you. He really likes you.

Time passed with appreciative quiet until you spoke again,

"The only thing is, you can't really see stars in the city... there’s too much light."

"The beaches have a nice view," Aizawa replied after some thought.

"Oh yeah?"

"Enough to stargaze properly,” he offered without much sentimentality. Right by the pier was the best spot he and his former classmates would go on the weekends, before their hero work took off.

"I'll have to remember to take a drive there. Y'know, sometime when I'm not in two-and-a-half-inch heels." you chuckled as you shuffled back to the rattan settee, sitting for a bit to stretch out your legs. "I don't know how Nemuri does it."

"Feet hurt already?" Aizawa snuck his hands from his pockets and came to the seat across from yours. “Night’s young.”

"Getting there," your laugh greeted him over, "But you know what they say, dress to impress and all that. Yamada really pitched some hype for this afterparty, so~"

Fashion was hardly something that ever swayed Aizawa’s decision-making. Utilitarian was the way to go for his wardrobe- then, as now.

"If aesthetics are all that determine these pros’ attention, that’s horribly vain."

You bristled in good humor,

"He didn't mean it like that– I just meant, he said to look nice for fun instead of for work. Call it ‘girl code’ if you want. We know that means to– just– /doll up a bit/!"

Aizawa held back a snicker at how you still ran into difficulties finding the most apt Japanese equivalents in your (pretty decently executed) second language. English slang you reverted to in moments like these fell from your mouth with an odd drawl. Still couldn’t place the regional accent you carried, but it charmed Aizawa all the same.

“//Doll up//?” he mimicked.

"//I like dolling up//!"

Aizawa reached and pulled his glass to his lips, meant to look aloof but not hiding his interest altogether well.

"You don’t need to put on airs to get people to notice you…"

"Right, because the accent gives me away."

"No, it’s your-”

Finally, a coward’s streak flared deep in his belly to shut him up. A rare hesitation. Damn this. What the hell’s happening to me–

“–nevermind."

"My what?" you’re fully interested, knowing a secret when it's presented.

"Nothing important."

Thankfully you not-so-subtlety dropped it with a hummed ‘ok’, but kept a watchful eye for him in your peripherals.

The pro hero mused. Better for him to be honest, right?

Just choose your words carefully. You’ll have to look her in the eye after this, you know.

Aizawa widened his seated stance so his knee barely breached your space.

Your sights lifted to him while he put his best poker face on. It’s not really any different than what he’d give to a perfect stranger– the only difference here is he has to force it.

Shit shit shit you're in deep, Shouta.

"You're plenty noticeable as you are. Anyone who meets you can see that," Aizawa shared in his usual soft-spoken tone. "Give ‘em ten minutes, and you've got them wrapped around your finger. It’s a whole impression, not just the outer package. Doesn't matter if you're in a dress that costs a month’s paycheck or a black button down. You're welcoming, sincere..."

He’s realizing he might be trailing off, but finding you listening with full attention led him on; no liquid courage required.

"You're stunning from the inside out. Enough to get others to notice."

Aizawa heard your appreciation before he saw it, a hum preceding the a genteel smile. With the win of his walls coming down, he had to give an honest smirk back. It was only fair; you’d earned it just by being you. By your flattered look, you were touched– but your brain was still working beneath the surface, and soon showed by a fleeting expression that spit from him.

Then, you caught your bottom lip for a second, before daring to look in Aizawa’s eyes again. It’s a sneaky look– like he’d snuck a peek at a card he’d meant to hide.

"...You remember what I wore on my first day at UA."

It was half question, half amusement. So dear, but oh-so pointed.

Aizawa froze.

"Black button down. You noticed me, then?" you countered more, "And here I thought you didn't care about appearances~"

"In professional circles, no. Personal… that's a different thing, entirely."

He kept your sights locked onto his, not unlike how he used his quirk in a challenge– only far softer and he could risk the occasional blink.

Even when you took his glass from his hand and placed it away on the table alongside yours, he still looked fondly after you, in fact tilting his head to the other side, studying the way one piece of your hair was caught by your neck. What he’d give to be familiar with you enough to ever-so-carefully brush it back, letting his touch send a wave of shivers across your skin and maybe even make you hum at the gesture. But he couldn’t trust himself to do it now, settling on stretching his arm around the back of the couch. Just an open move, letting you join him on the couch as close as you’d like.

Was he really doing this? He never has before, but this felt so natural.

You smiled still– and as you sit, you’re leaning into it. Well then.

“What was I wearing, Aizawa?”

With free fingers, he risked some little brushes on your near shoulder, bringing a happy little eyebrow lift from you. He just took in your features in close quarters, settled in it, as he remembered that day:

Black button down, grey skirt. Biker boots -practical choice- and these damn tights.

Aizawa’s dazed in the head, but he knows he's listed it off aloud based on how your sights widen, impressed.

"Hmmm, tights do it for ya?” you smiled, “I'm surprised you haven't jumped the darling Ms. Nemuri then."

"I know way too much about Kayama to ever consider her that way,” Aizawa’s tempered hand twirled a finger along a blown-away section of hair, just absently enough. “You however, tease just enough."

"Do I tease you?” you offer with a little depth, “I don't mean to."

It’s here he’s worry he’s stepping over a line- if it weren’t for the downright delicious look in your eye. You say it like you’re sorry for acting unprofessionally– but you’re urging him on, hardly apologetic for your sweet posturing.

"You may not mean it, but it's not unnoticed,"

He took second to swallow, and steps fully over it.

"or unwelcome."

You’re pleased with this, but deflect with your trademarked humor-

"Well now that’s saying something. You've seen me in my pjs, too- far from glamorous. That didn't break the allure for you?"

Aizawa had to huff though his nose at that memory.

"I caught you at arguably your most real self, that first night you patched me up," His outstretched arm rubbed full circles onto your shoulder now, with the lightest touch.

“Still have no clue why you chose me over Recovery Girl. For the harshest grader in school, that was a pretty dumb move.”

“You were closer than going to campus. It was the practical choice.”

“You didn't even know if I knew first aid.”

“You do,” Aizawa smirked. “You're too nurturing to not have a knack for it.”

Your legs crossed over, deflecting both your words and refreshing your body movement. In doing so, you slid even closer- a move not lost on Aizawa.

“Well, I'm still not happy about it. You needed more attending than I was able to pull off. Whatever you get into those nights,” you flitted a look to the underside of his arm that lays outstretched –where you know he sports a scar now- “It… looked like it hurt, ‘Zawa.”

Warm. Warm and cared form. Felt it then, feel it now. That's the life in his chest he gets when he’s around you.

"Can't change the past, and I certainly wouldn't have changed that. Wouldn’t pass up seeing that sight of you for the world."

This connection, this dance, it all feels that it must be older than what it is, more rooted in a shared history than a short few months.

Aizawa wants to ‘get’ you. Know the thoughts behind your eyes. Get you talking, even if it means he needs to give up his silent nights and muted text alerts so he can learn you. He’s happy he gets this balcony happy hour with you, out from other’s eyes, to be able to water this sweet, small thing he feels towards you to fullness.

His eyes narrowed playfully, "Are you embarrassed right now?"

Out of this entire teasing exchange, that note seemed to surprise you and turned you shy. Short of clapping a hand onto your cheek, you just darted your gaze away- can you be cuter if you tried?

“h-Yeah, a little!" –though you tried to snark your way out of it, "you were hurt before, and blubbery- but now that we’re y'know– awake, and talking... Pretty faces make me nervous."

Nervous? Pretty? Aizawa doesn’t like the sound of either of those.

Aizawa raised a brow and gave a look, a touch more serious.

"Hey," He tapped your chin still with his free hand, "if you want me to lay off, you say the word."

Blindly, you hold his hand from retreating away– "No. You're good, I promise."

He’s drowning in you leaning into the cool touch offered to you–

“ Heh, I–uh… I’m pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t talk about each other like this, though.”

He couldn't be a coward now– not with you melting on the spot and giving him an insane amount of hope.

“Maybe not,” Aizawa reasoned gently, “-not if they’re content to stay that way.”

–then all of a sudden his heart soared at her next words:

"Well… I like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I like you, like this.” With your insistence for touch, you cupped his wrist in your own chill-tipped hand.

Hell yeah.

Aizawa huffs another win in his foolish heart, but then watches as you keep talking– you don’t break from your softness, but look reflective off to an absent point on his chest.

“It’s funny, y'know? Most jobs, you’d be lucky to find someone you would actually wanna talk to outside of board meetings and quarterly reports… but here in our line of work, you count on each other to save your lives.”

“That’s right.” Aizawa breathes.

“I uh.. never thought I’d be workin’ with kids- trying to keep them alive too. Teach them how to do the same. But I wouldn’t feel nearly as confident to do it, rise to the challenge, if it weren’t for you, ‘Zawa. You’re just as special. Inside and out.”

And when you look to his eyes again, fully awake and still sober, he swears he’ll say yes to any night Hizashi invites him to if it means he can have you this close. Things with you just feel lived-in. Companionable. He’s drawn to you in a way unlike others before you, because he didn’t believe he’s had the right, desire, or time to even entertain it.

But everything’s different now. It just works, in his mind. He wants to spend his respites, his missions, everything- with you at his side, having his back. For however long you’d let him.

Touching your cheek, cursing the helmet you’d have to wear on the way home that would hide this angelic face from him once again– Aizawa curls towards you, barely tipping his head which screams ‘kiss her you ass’. You notice, and follow his lead almost halfway.

“Yeah, I like you like this…” you sighed lightly, “--and I’d like us like this, too.”

"Hm. Good."

...the door to the patio swinging open from around the corner startles you both. Present Mic doesn’t know his strength as he projects for the block to hear, swaggering about in his search.

You looked flustered sitting back up, but Aizawa was characteristically unphased at the sight of Hizashi finally rounding with a singsong cry of his name.

Dammit.

"Hey kids, been looking for YOU, Miss America! There's some stateside artists on the karaoke lineup with your name on iiiiit- c’mon! I hyped you already to Nemuri– she didn't believe me that you sang with me for my English midterms!!"

"What?!” you blanched, “ Who said I was doing that?"

"I did!!” Yamada thumbed at his own brilliance, “ C’mon I'll do the first one with you!"

"First one– Dude, I don't need to be touting my Southern-ass self to a bunch of pros before I even make a name for myself here."

"This is HOW you'll do it! Come n’ wow them, break the ice- you’ll do amazing!" Yamada came to your side of the settee, tugging you up to your feet with little fight. "Tch, Sho, you're rubbing off on her, aren't you? Turning our sweet teach into a wallflower as we speak, huh?"

"She was doing me a favor- has an eye out for me when I needed an escape, unlike you." Aizawa droned, to your amusement.

"Yeah yeah fair enough. Now pleeeeeease, would you come inside? It would be so much fun!"

From the way you’re freshening your jacket collar, you’re warmed from the neck up, caught between what just almost happened and the current situation Yamada is putting you in.

You look to Aizawa just like you did inside– a glance, but it lingers longer than before. Like you are waiting to see what he thinks. If he’ll stay or go, should you leave.

But Aizawa isn’t so selfish like before. He doesn’t feel it necessary to keep you to himself, because he sees your affection so clearly in your eyes now. He hosts butterflies in his stomach, yes, but they aren’t frantic and flitting about wondering what you may or may not think of him- chronically tired and a contrast to the breath of fresh air you are. You see him as a companion, too. Someone he might just get the chance to study, and learn, and adore in return.

No, he knows you like him as he is. Knows you’ll choose to meet him where he stands. He can share you, and will simply watch on as you stun him even more...

The Pro-Hero is desperate for some eyedrops in all this wind outside, but he would grin and bear it if you choose to deny Yamada’s pull on you. So instead, he merely leans forward to perch on his knees, with a hand on the lip of both your drinks. What Aizawa says in his non-answer left it open to what you wanted to do. Stay or go, he’d follow suit.

Returning to the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed fellow teacher, you breathily gave in with your ‘ok’.

"YEAAAAAUHHHH!"

"Damn peer pressure."

"You said yes," Aizawa smirked.

"Oh if she’s going, you're coming in too!" Hizashi was already whisking you away, and Aizawa rose on his own, following your knowing smile over your shoulder and matching it.

With many forced karaoke and radio show nights, it’s Aizawa who braves the crowd and comes up behind you at one of Present Mic’s shows, stepping in from the balcony where you wait by its door. He’s fresh off of work, sporting a new scar across his cheek courtesy of his day job, this time.. but you greet him with that familiar scrunch of the nose that he still finds adorable.

It’s rare he leaves campus nowadays, because he feels the stakes are higher than ever for him to remain vigilant. His students are his life, and as proud of them as he is, they are a constant effort of his mind and strength. Rest doesn’t come easy, and his rewards for a job (passably) done aren’t found in many places.

One constant he has found helps, has been you.

You, still alluring as ever, but who makes sure he doesn’t fixate on giving and giving of himself until he breaks– but to take his rests, reset, and even take a little jaunt over to these radio shows when he has staff coverage back at the dorms. Gives you two some time to get nostalgic, sentimental– or as close as he can get to those mushy spots in his heart about the club where he wrestled out his feelings for you for the first time.

He smooths a hand across your lower back now, when he joins you. He’s held onto your hands when they're cold, giving you whatever warmth he has. He knows each and every gap on your resume, partnered with you out on the streets, tag-teams in his classroom with this plucky 1-A Class he now leads, and is content to let you fill his thoughts when he wants to rest his eyes.

He doesn’t fight his affections now. Still would rather not simper in public too much because he’s quite averse to being the center of tabloids’ attentions, but stands by you all the same.

"I'm surprised to not see you up there,” Aizawa greets, cool as ever.

You lean on a hip, closer to him.

"He's got his sets lined up today, didn't ask me-” You speak a little louder over the crowd, “I swear, your cockatoo still acts like I'm some gift from the heavens, just ‘cuz I can sing!"

"It's earned. You deserve every bit of it, and not just from Hizashi."

You turned over to him shyly, drawing his attention further– your tendencies to melt under his words encourages Aizawa to compliment you directly. Often. Whatever it is about his voice that you say you’re obsessed with, he still doesn’t understand– but he uses it to full advantage as he robs your drink from your hand,

"I happen to think you have a gorgeous voice," Aizawa speaks low to your ear. “You should sing at home more often.”

“Please. As if the kids would ever let me live it down.”

You refer -of course- to the twenty shared students between you, taking them all in stride since you’ve sufficiently bonded through fire alongside them.

“That’s teaching for ya. Gotta push yourself beyond, plus ultra and all that.”

You chortle back in your throat, risking a kiss on his etched cheek to counter his snide remark,

“You’re off the clock, ‘Zawa. No more hero talk, huh?”

Aizawa cocks a brow, stealing a sip, “Sorry we can’t all turn it off like you, dear.”

The comment has you biting the inside of your mouth at the tease, and allows him a quick moment to press the glass’ condensation against his eye.

“Want some air, hon?” you try again, softer than this atmosphere should allow.

Looking back at you -your hold on his elbow ready to guide him outside just like the first night- and Aizawa doesn’t need any more sips of the whiskey he holds.

The retreat to ‘your couch’ is one he looks forward to any chance he gets. Bass boosted from the speakers inside becomes background noise that dulls his senses, doubled by the way you cozy up under his arm watching the skyline shift in light and color in comfortable silence. You trade roles with him: taking watch while he shuts his eyes for some restorative hydration.

But before he gets too terribly relaxed by your weight settling his aching muscles to stillness, he registers a warm press to his mouth that he’s quick to chase after. That’s a satisfying thought, too: he doesn't have to imagine what it'd be like to kiss you anymore.

#shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #aizawa fluff #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa my beloved

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remlionheart · 8 months ago

Note

Is there ANY chance you’d do a Gojo/Reader/Megumi euphoria version, just as nasty and beautiful as the other ones ??? You know, with dp, creampies, praise kinks etc

Maybe it could pick up when y/n goes back for another party like Gojo said and he found out that she also had a crush on Megumi so he invited him too and they’re all high etc. OOOFFF I got excited just by thinking about it

Let me manifest you writing this with your incredible talent 🙌🏼✨

When I tell you this had fireworks going off in my brain when I read it this morning 😮‍💨 I love all of you and your ideas so much ₊˚ෆ My schedule has been pretty tight lately between work and writing and trying not to lose my mind in the mix, but this got me up and to my laptop the minute I opened it. Manifest and you shall receive 🔮✨, ily nonnie ♡

➳ all of my euphoria fics are standalone for the most part, but meg's full story can be found here and gojo's here if you're new. this one in particular is more of an AU drabble than it is a continuation of either. (also - quick lil disclaimer: all characters are aged up to 21+, meg was raised by toji in this not gojo, and finally, i am not responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating bc this turned out fucking filthy) hope u like it ♡

۵ ⋆˙MDNI ⋆˙۵

Show and Tell ₊˚⊹♡

You stared down at your phone, rereading the text from Gojo-sensei for what had to be the tenth time when you finally took a breath and opened the front door. His living room was exactly how you remembered it: overflowing with people and music and purple lights and drunken nonsense. The only difference was that you were coherent this time and actually able to push yourself through the sea of your former classmates as you made your way up the stairs.

With each step you took though, you couldn't decide if your sobriety was a good thing or a bad thing. Your heart was jumping around in your chest, your eyes glued to the floor in a feeble attempt to avoid the suspicious eyebrow raises you were getting the closer you got to his bedroom.

“I want you over here again next weekend,” he had said in between breaths, his cum seeping out of you as he pulled out. “Got it?"

You thought it had just been the heat of the moment talking. A fleeting 3 am coke-induced thought that he'd forget about once he came back to his senses, but he didn't. He was holding onto his demands, waiting for you as you reached for the door handle.

No one was allowed in his room.

No one, except for you.

Your footsteps came to an abrupt pause, your gaze suddenly darting between the two sets of blue eyes that were looking back at you. A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of Gojo's mouth as he held his hand out, motioning with one finger for you to come closer.

Megumi watched the way you walked towards him, noting the little exhale you let out once you'd reached him. Your nervous excitement was almost as palpable as it was pitiful. A faint shade of pink decorated your cheeks as you stood between your former teacher's legs. "Open." Gojo instructed.

Megumi had heard the rumors about the two of you hooking up, but he hadn't really believed it until now. His jaw clenched, his eyes still trailing over you while you obediently lolled your tongue out for the silver-haired man. He wondered if you even knew what you were taking as Gojo placed a point of molly into your mouth, nodding proudly as you swallowed it.

It was odd, how similar you still looked to the last time he'd seen you at Jujutsu High but how absolutely unrecognizable you seemed showing off for your former teacher.

"See how good she is?" Gojo mused, breaking Megumi's train of thought. "Does exactly what she's told. Takes orders so well." Megumi's pupils widened when he noticed that you were looking at him now as Gojo began to slip your shirt above your head.

"I... should probably go -"

"Relax." Gojo said simply, his hands reaching around to unclasp your bra. Your nipples hardened as it fell to the floor, leaving you exposed in front of the two of them. "You're here for a reason."

A burst of warmth and blissful dizziness spread through your body, whatever drug he'd given you was starting to take hold. It felt different than the coke you'd done last time, but you couldn't quite place your finger on what this was. It was an overwhelming heady sensation. A fluttering in your chest. A smile you couldn't quite fight back. An insatiable urge to just touch something.

Gojo shot the raven-haired boy a grin that could've rivaled that of the devil's. "I saw the way she was looking at you the last time she was here. Think she has a bit of a crush on you." His tone was taunting, his hand running along the curve of your hip as he redirected his attention up to you. "Don't you, baby?"

You wanted to say no. Wanted to lie. Wanted to create a convincing argument against it, but the substances in your system were making it increasingly difficult to not lean into your real feelings. The things you couldn't possibly say out loud sober, the desires you'd usually bury - they were all at the forefront of your mind. Willing and ready to make their appearance the second your mouth opened again.

"I -"

But Gojo's palm found the inside of your thigh before you could get it out, you nearly moaned just from the feeling of his fingers roaming up towards your center. Everything suddenly felt so good. So unexplainably fucking good.

"Tell him." Gojo prompted, sliding your panties to the side. "Don't look at me, look at him. Tell him how bad you want him to fuck you, baby."

Even under the red glow from Gojo's headboard light, you could see the curiosity and blatant want laid out on Megumi's face. You kept your eyes locked with his as Gojo slipped a slender finger between your folds, making it impossible to keep your voice steady.

"Megumi..." it was a whimper. A sweet, lewd little nothing that made his cock twitch. You reached for his hand and he took it, slowly lacing his fingers into yours. "Will you –"

"No. That's not it." Gojo shook his head, forcing your gaze back on him as he slammed two fingers into you, almost making your knees buckle. "You're not asking, you're telling him what you want. C'mon baby, use your words."

Your whines were echoing across the room, your body grinding greedily against Gojo's digits as you looked back to Megumi with your bottom lip lodged between your teeth. Your head was everywhere. Your body so overwhelmingly sensitive.

"Megumi, please." You tried again, but it was just as desperate and feeble as before. "I... really... want – oh, fuck." Gojo was relentless, the wet sounds of him plunging into you only getting louder. "Please." you writhed against him, shooting Megumi a helpless look as your eyes began to roll. "Please, Megumi, I – want you... to... fuck, ohmygod –"

"There she is." Gojo praised, using his thumb to rub against your clit. You were clenching around him, nearly dripping as you stood before him, your vision dancing between the two men. "Keep going. Keep talking. Don't stop."

"I-want-you-to-fuck-me." It almost came out as one word with how quick and breathlessly it left your mouth. "Please. Pl – ease. Oh, fuck. Fuck... I can't.... Gojo, 'm gonna –"

It felt like something inside Megumi had snapped as he watched the orgasm rake through your body. The way your eyes glazed over. The way you leaned against Gojo for support as your cunt spasmed around him. The slick glistening down your thigh. You looked so dazed out and gorgeous, it was almost too much to handle. The molly in his system was hitting him just as hard as it was hitting you.

His fingers were still tangled firmly into yours, your knuckles almost turning white from how hard you'd been holding onto him. The second Gojo released you, Megumi was pulling you over to him, his lips meeting yours with feral urgency while he guided you on top of him.

There was an undeniable energy between the two of you. Your bodies both humming with desire as he kissed along your neck, using his other free hand to undo the buttons of his pants.

Gojo smirked watching the two of you before leaning over to his nightstand and divvying out a bump of coke for himself.

Megumi was careful as he lined himself up with your entrance, letting his tip slide in slowly. You were so wet. Already moaning with how little he'd given you. "Fuck, you feel good." He groaned, placing his hands on your hips to help pull you down further.

You gripped his shoulders, easing yourself further and further down. You felt delirious from how perfectly he was stretching you, another surge of warmth rushing over you as you matched his rhythm.

"You're s'fucking pretty." He whispered, his hips bucking up, making your eyes nearly cross as his tip met your cervix. "So cute when you're all fucked out like this."

Gojo stripped out of his pants and boxers, undoing the buttons along his shirt as he continued to watch the two of you. "She's a tight little thing, isn't she?" He smirked. "Don't worry though, she can take it." His thumb was suddenly under your chin, forcing your face next to his. "You want him to go deeper, baby?"

You nodded back him with stars in your eyes, whining into his mouth as Megumi plunged himself into you earning an arrogant smirk from Gojo. "Look at that pouty face." he teased, parting your lips with his tongue. "Such a good girl, you know that?"

The feeling of Megumi filling and laying into you while Gojo-sensei instructed him how to fuck you felt too farfetched to be real. You must've been in a dream. A delicious dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Gojo grinned, noting how feverish your movements had become. How much harder your ass was smacking against Megumi's thighs each time you came down.

He stepped away, letting you fully grab onto Megumi as you mewled out his name, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You were clenching around him, nearly shaking from how good he felt. "Megumi, 'm - I -"

"Shh," he soothed, pulling you down onto him. "S'okay, I've got you. Look at me." There were overstimulated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when they met his. "Let me see it."

You were writhing against him. Your eyebrows knitting together as your thighs locked in place. You slid down, taking every inch of him, making your body nearly convulse. Your pupils bloomed as your mouth fell open. Loud, incoherent whines leaving you as tears began to spill down your cheeks. "I'm cumming." You cried. "Fuck, Megumi. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'm -"

You were inconsolable, spasming against him with fervor as you drenched him. "Oh my god," he groaned, feeling himself teetering on the verge of his breaking point too. You were smothering him.

His head spinning from how snug and warm your walls were, how they just kept getting tighter around him the harder he continued to pump into you. You were so pretty to look at - the way your tits bounced perfectly with each thrust, the way your eyes stayed focused on him, the way you kept whimpering out his name in this adorably pitiful broken voice. This entire thing felt like dream to him too. A salaciously beautiful haze that he'd think about for at least the rest of his life.

"I'm about to cum." He warned you, unsure where you wanted it. Gojo stepped back in, standing behind you to place his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you down further, drawing out another blitzed-out noise from you.

"Let her have it." Gojo nodded, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while he kissed the side of your neck, his free hand drifting down to your clit. The sensation made you grind against him even faster, moaning into Gojo's mouth as Megumi filled you. "Good girl." he whispered. "Look at how well you're takin' him, baby. Makin' me so fuckin' proud."

Gojo helped guide you off of him once you were both done, careful to lift you as a mixture of fluids spilled out of you. "Messy girl." Gojo smirked. "Need you to get him all cleaned off before he goes back out there, 'kay?"

You looked at him from over your shoulder, giving him a dizzy smile as he bent you over and Megumi spread his legs apart to accommodate you.

He was so spent. So high. So blissfully exhausted, he wasn't sure it'd be possible for him to cum again this soon. But the minute he felt your tongue press against his base, the way you looked up at him through those heavy lashes - he quickly realized that he had at least one more left in him.

Gojo took his time, admiring how puffy and pretty your leaking pussy was. He'd gone easy on you last weekend. Tried to keep his roughness to a minimum, but he knew you were ready.

He rubbed his tip between your folds, wetting himself with the slick. "Stay focused on your breathing."

It was the same thing he'd told you the last time he entered you, only it held new meaning now that you had a mouthful of cock and Gojo-sensei's girth inside you. Your back arched for him, your eyes glazing over as Megumi's hand tangled into your hair.

"You've got it." Megumi reassured you. "Just like that."

Gojo's grip was tightening around your hips the further he went. "Don't stop just because I'm in you, I wanna see you take that whole thing."

You mewled against Megumi, drool dripping down your chin while Gojo pummeled further into you. You kept one hand on him, slowly pumping as you tried to find a good rhythm, but Gojo's pace was picking up, rocking you back and forth and making you forget how to breathe altogether.

"Gojo-sensei ~" you whined.

The formality only made his thrusts more punishing, but your walls were sucking him in so faithfully no matter how hard he went. Your body absolutely melting at his touch.

"Focus." his tone was stern, his hips meeting yours condemningly. "Show me how bad you want this. If you stop, so will I."

You opened your mouth wider, letting the pool of spit you'd gathered glide down Megumi's length as he lightly pressed your head down. "Oh shit." He muttered, watching you take almost all of him.

"There you go." Gojo praised, his hand reaching around to meet your clit again. "See how good that feels, baby? To have my cock buried in you and his down your throat?"

His fingers were drawing heavenly circles around you, the room filling with the carnal sounds of him bullying himself into you and you slurping and lapping up every bit of Megumi. You were a whimpering, soaking mess. Moaning out both of their names now each time you came up for air.

"She's already getting close again." Gojo mocked. "Poor thing, she's just so sensitive."

His fingers swirled firmly across your clit, feeling the slick that was building as Megumi thrusted himself into your mouth. Your eyes were watering again. Your legs shaking and your heart ready to beat straight out of your chest from how obscenely euphoric it all felt.

Megumi moaned prettier than any man you'd ever heard. The noises he was making alone were almost enough to keep you going. You nearly choked on him when you finally felt him twitch inside you, coating your throat with warmth as his head lulled back.

"Fuck." he rasped, pulling your head back up to look at you. "You have no idea how perfect you feel."

You gave him a glazed over smile, your cunt throbbing as Gojo continued to dominate you. He could feel you about to bottom out. "She's so ethereal, isn't she? Like a fucked-out angel." He mused, watching you reach for Megumi's hand as you clenched around him.

You were completely incoherent, your vision blurred by molly and red lights and the softness of Gojo's sheets. Megumi leaned in to kiss you, still letting you squeeze his hand for support. "God, you're gorgeous." He breathed. "Keep goin'. You're right there."

You kissed Megumi so hard you were afraid you were going to hurt him, but he didn't seem to mind, holding you tighter as you shook and moaned against his lips. “There it is.” He nodded. “You love cumming all over us, don't you?"

You nodded helplessly, tears still streaming down your face as you returned his small smile. "So - much." You choked out, your pussy clamping around Gojo as he pounded his release into you.

You were so unexplainably full, almost afraid that you wouldn't be able to stand once Gojo pulled out of you, but he helped get you to your feet.

"My little show-off," He smirked, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Always such a teacher’s pet.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

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therealcocoshady · 7 months ago

Note

Coco!! Just wanted to say THANK YOU for indulging another one of my requests and so QUICKLY too. I know you’re busy, busy and I really appreciate it! This was everything I ASKED for and more! Love me some sweet and sexy Marsh 🤍💪🏼🧘🏻‍♀️💦💋🌶️🥵🧸

Hope you enjoy a ☕️ or 2 on me! 😉

A/N : Hi bestie 🌟. Thank YOU for supporting me and being my first ever commission ❤️.

For those of you who didn’t know, you can support my writing by giving tips on my Ko-Fi account and I am now open for commissions as well 😏.

@shady-577 kindly allowed me to post the commission on this blog, too, to I hope y’all enjoy 🌟

Sweat Session

Marshall was a very healthy person and it showed. On your very first date, he’d told you about him trying to lead a healthy lifestyle by maintaining his sobriety, eating well and exercising and, two years into your relationship, he was more than consistent. You had recently moved in together and you got to see just how seriously he took it. And as he was getting ready to drop a new album, perform regularly again and do some promo, he started exercising even more. Not only it kept him fit, but it also helped him deal with his stress. He got up even earlier in the morning to hit the gym and, even though you enjoy the fruits of his labor (what with him being even more buff than before), you were a little grumpy not to have your man in bed with you when you woke up. And since he spent even more time at work, polishing the album and working on the promo, you didn’t see him as much as you liked, which made you a little frustrated.

- You know, you could hit the gym with me, he suggested with a smile when you told him about your annoyance. Might do some good.

- Is this a sneaky way of telling me I’ve gained weight ? You asked as you side-eyed him.

- What ? No ! He immediately said. I’m just saying it’s healthy to exercise. You could wake up a little earlier and join me in the gym.

- Or you could skip a day and stay in bed with me tomorrow morning, you suggested with a charming grin.

- Not happening, doll, he said with a smile. Need to be consistent.

- Fine, you groaned.

With the public appearances and photo shoots he had planned, as well as music videos to shoot, he wanted to look buff. At 51 years old, he didn’t want to be seen as some « aging rapper who let himself go ». And sure enough, the results were there. His chest was chesting and he had Twitter go feral over the outline of his pecs, clearly visible on the latest pics of him at Dre’s Walk of Fame ceremony.

The next day, you woke up to the sound of his alarm going off and let out a groan. He whispered an apology and kissed your forehead before going to the home gym in the basement. You tried to fall back to sleep but without your man by your side, the bed felt cold and empty. That’s when you decided enough was enough. You got up and put on a cute working out outfit, which looked more like underwear than clothes you could actually work out in, consisting of a bra and the tiniest shorts ever. Just enough fabric to highlight your figure and make your ass and breast pop out. When you got downstairs, you saw him working out on an incline bench, absorbed on what he was doing. He was wearing simple sweatpants and sneakers, not even bothering with a teeshirt. The view reminded you of how lucky you were. You looked at him from afar for a good while, him so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there, practically drooling.

- Hi handsome, you said seductively. Mind if I join you ?

- You decided to get up after- he began. Jesus Christ…

- Yes ? You said innocently.

- You’re gonna work out in these ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

- You don’t like it ? You asked.

- I don’t think that’s enough fabric for me to critique, he hummed.

- Far be it from me to distract you, you said with a smile. Unless…

- I have to work out, babe, he said with a frown. But you’re welcome to join.

You shrugged. You’d been dating for a while but, clearly, he should know better than to assume you didn’t have more tricks up your sleeve. You kicked off your sneakers and grabbed a yoga mat, strategically placing it so that he’d have a good view. You started stretching, going from pose to pose. He kept on working out next to you, though you could see his gaze.

- Like what you see ? You hummed.

- Making sure you’re doing it right, he said with a grin.

- Sure, you giggled.

He got up while you were in downward facing dog and put a hand on your hip, helping you stretch your back a little.

- You know, these tiny shorts don’t hide much, he whispered in your ear. Especially not in this pose.

- Oh yeah ? You asked as you switched to a three-legged down dog that gave him an even better view.

- Fuck, he muttered under his breath.

You kept your flow going under his watchful eye, looking at you as if you were a snack.

- I think my flexibility is not too bad, you remarked.

- It’s really good, he mumbled. Really good.

- Thank you for correcting my posture, my love, you said innocently. Let me repay the favor and spot you.

He hummed and laid back on the inclined bench, grabbing some halters, working on his arms. You gently ran your hand on his biceps, feeling how much bigger they had gotten in the past weeks.

- So muscular, you said seductively. You are so strong…

- Am I ? He mused.

- And that chest, you continued. It’s all for the « Stan » shirt lift for your upcoming tour, isn’t it ?

He looked at you with a grin, knowing this particular move drove you absolutely crazy. You watched him exercise. He clearly didn’t need you to spot him, and you knew it, but this allowed you to stare. He sat back up and grabbed his water bottle, taking a big gulp. You were staring at each other with « fuck me eyes » and you could tell he was trying hard not to give in to the temptation.

- You’re awfully distracting, woman, he said.

- Maybe you need to take a little break, you suggested. I think it’s time you were shown some appreciation for all this hard work…

He smiled and playfully shook his head before taking another gulp of water. Some of it missed his mouth and trailed down his neck and chest. You stepped closer and ran your tongue on his neck, catching the iced liquid. He let out a groan, letting you know how pleasurable it was.

- Let’s not be wasteful with water, now, you said seductively. Oh, I think I missed some…

You proceeded to kiss his chest, catching the water with your mouth. You took advantage of the moment and placed a kiss on one of his pecs. He chuckled and pulled you to him so that you’d sit in his lap before kissing you passionately.

- You’re impossible, he hummed between kissed. I can’t focus.

- And you’re a fucking tease, you retorted as you kissed him back. I’m only human, you know ?

- I’ll give you teasing, he grinned.

With one movement of his knee, he had you spread your legs for him, before running his fingers on the inside of your thigh. You hummed in pleasure as his hand got dangerously close to your pussy, eventually cupping it over the thin fabric of your shorts, making you sigh in pleasure.

- Is this what you wanted ? He asked playfully.

- Yes, you whined.

There was nothing more you loved than to sit in his lap, his arms around you, free to run his hands across your body. He knew it and he happily obliged, keeping on teasing you over your clothes, cupping your breasts and grazing your nipples with his fingers. He freed one of your boobs from your sports bra and pinched the nipple, making you moan in pleasure. You automatically started grinding against his thigh, your body desperate for some release.

- Look at this, he chuckled. You don’t need me to take care of you. Looks like you’re doing it on your own.

- Please, you asked breathily. Marshall.

- Patience, love, he whispered in your ear before letting his hand go back to your pussy.

He played with you over the fabric, no doubt feeling how wet you were. His head was buried in your neck and you could feel his smile against your skin. You kept on moaning, desperate for more. Eventually, you took matters in your own hands and knelt between his legs. You decided to put him through the same misery and stroked his high through his sweatpants, going higher and higher with each motion. Even through the fabric, you could see his growing bulge. You looked up to him and saw that he was looking in the mirror across the room, admiring the view of you, kneeling for him.

- You’re so beautiful in this position,he said as he ran a hand through your hair.

- Keep enjoying the view, then, you suggested with a smirk.

You tugged at his sweats and he lifted his hips to allow you to lower them, eventually kicking his sneakers so that you’d remove the whole thing, along with his boxers. There was something about him, naked on the bench, his massive erection showing you how excited he was. You stroked his cock and gave it a few pumps before approaching your face.

- I could leave you like this, you mused. Like you’ve left me alone in our bed…

- Babe, no, he pleaded. Please.

You thoroughly enjoyed reversing the power dynamic. By the look he was giving you, you could tell that he was wrapped around your finger, eating in the palm of your hand. You gave him a mischievous grin and started licking the tip of his cock, earning sighs of pleasure in the process. You kept on stroking the length while kitten licking the head, knowing it drove him crazy, that he wanted nothing more than for you to take all of him in your mouth. Eventually, you did and he moaned loudly, still holding on to your hair. You kept on sucking him, hollowing your cheeks to pleasure him even more. You took as much as you could, making you drool all over his cock. You stared at him from below and saw he was bemused by the reflection of you sucking him in the mirror. You could feel him twitch inside of your mouth, a sign that he was about to come.

- Stop, he warned.

- You can come, you said as you kept on stroking him.

- Don’t want to, he said. Not yet.

He helped you get up and kissed you hungrily before undressing you. He sat back and pulled you so that you’d straddle his lap, giving him an opportunity to suck on your tits while grabbing a handful of your ass. He lined himself at your entrance and inserted himself, making you whimper. There it was. What you’d been craving. The sole sensation of him inside you was heavenly. His mouth traveled between your nipple and your neck, proving that he knew your sweet spots all too well.

- is this what you wanted ? He asked breathily.

- Yes, you whispered.

He started thrusting his hips slowly, making sure to bottom into you and hit your sweet spot. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily, dying to be close to him as ever. The making out was hotter than ever and you always wanted more, desperate for some release, knowing this man could make you come like no one else before him.

- Faster, you begged. Harder. Please.

He gave you a smirk and carried you to another bench that was slightly higher. He had you on your knees, ass up and face down and penetrated you roughly, making you scream before thrusting violently. He was going so fast that you had trouble catching your breath. But at the same time, it was so good, so hot to have him use you. His thrusts became slower again and he put your hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing you to look in a mirror in front of you. You could see your faces twisting in pleasure. His gaze met yours and he gave you a smirk before quickening his pace. He closed his eyes and all hell broke loose. His hips moved faster than ever, hitting you deep. There was no doubt that you’d be sore for the following days but, in the instant, neither of you cared, lost in the pleasure. You moved your hips in sync, trying to keep up with him. You didn’t want it to end and, yet, you could feel you were both so close to climax. The coup de grâce came when he looped a hand around you to reach and rub your swollen clit, making you cry in ecstasy. You could feel your juices flowing, forming a puddle underneath you, in which you inevitably collapsed, Marshall on top of you.

The both of you stayed still and silent for a minute, taking the time to catch your breath. Marshall buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a chaste kiss there that made you shiver.

- Are you alright, love ? He asked as he got up.

- Y-yes, you replied as you were still struggling to breathe properly.

He chuckled and got up with a grunt, grabbing a towel to clean you and a water bottle to help you hydrate. You let him clean you and sat up on the bench, taking a good look at his naked form. In spite of rocking a buzz cut, he still looked disheveled and insanely sexy.

- You’re so hot, you said lovingly.

- Is that why you jumped on me ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe, you giggled. Been missing you, lately.

He gave you a smile and wrapped you in his strong arms before kissing you.

- Missed you too, he said. But you do realize you’re the main reason I’m doing all of this for, don’t you ?

- Am I ? You mused.

- Of course, he hummed. When I’m making music, I think of how much I want you to be proud. And when I’m here… my main motivation is you. I want to look good for you. You’re always on my mind.

You cooed and kissed him tenderly. He was too adorable.

- Well, I am proud of you. And I do think you look incredible me you complimented. I’m proud to be yours.

- I love you, he said. How about a shower before you need to go to work ?

- Ok, you said with a pout.

You got up and he grabbed you by the waist before leading you out of the home gym.

- I like fucking you in here, he hummed. I can’t believe we waited so long for this, though.

- We’ll have to do it again, you said with a smile. I can think of a few creative ways to use that gym equipment.

- Oh believe me, next time I’m putting those resistance bands to good use, he chuckled. I guess it completes the tour of the house. We’ve officially done it in every room of the house.

- Does that make me a permanent resident ? You grinned.

- It does, he chortled.

- Oh no, there’s one room missing, though, you said.

He looked at you with a frown, knowing exactly where you were going with this. He sternly shook his head as he led you to the stairs.

- Nope, he said. Don’t even thing about it. We’re not doing it in the hope studio. I have rules.

- We’ll see, you grinned.

- I’m not going to cave in, he warned.

- You know I like a challenge, you said innocently. Besides… you love me. You wouldn’t be able to refuse.

He chuckled, failing to keep the annoyed look on his face. You knew he loved you being all needy, and that there was only so much charm offensive he could resist.

- We’ll see, he hummed before bringing your hand to his lips and then placing a loving kiss on your ring finger.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Eminem smut #Eminem commission

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asirensrage · 1 year ago

Text

Unrepentant

Title: Unrepentant Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sano "Mikey" Manjiro x Fem!Reader, Bonten x Fem!Reader Word count: 3599 Warnings: Dark!fic. Dub-con. Wearing a collar and leash as punishment. Talk of ownership. Edging. Coercion. Public Sex. Swearing. Drug Use. Threats. Choking. Orgasm Denial. References to drug addiction. Unbeta'd. *warnings are not exhaustive*

Notes: I had the urge to write something while listening to Poison from Hazbin Hotel on repeat. This is the result. It is a dark fic. Consider yourself warned. Reader is not described in looks or size. Please let me know what you think. (It's one of the many fics/oneshots I have planned or started for TR lol.) Enjoy!

HEED THE WARNINGS

How did it come to this?

You’re kneeling at his feet, eyes on the ground as the bass of music in the club thumps in time with the headache in the back of your skull. It’s punishment.

Not the headache. That’s the ache that comes with withdrawal, the same way your fingers twitch as you try to hold them in place. But the position you’re in. The collar tight around your neck that’s attached to a chain he holds. The tension is loose as if it’s not there, but you know if you even shift out of your position, you’ll feel it.

Feet come to pause in front of you, clad in expensive shoes. You don’t move, don’t look to confirm your suspicion about who it is.

“Look at you,” he coos. You can hear him clearly over the music, but it’s only when he bends down and tilts your head up to look at him, that you know you’re right. “You look like a fragile thing like this, doll. What’d you do to earn this?”

He knows. They all know. It’s just another test. Ran grins at you as you drop your eyes, knowing you can’t respond right now without permission.

“Answer.” The man holding your chain demands, yanking it slightly in warning.

You don’t flinch, don’t make a sound at the way it jars you. “I made a mistake,” you say, just loud enough that they both can hear you.

Ran laughs at that. “Yeah, baby? A mistake?”

It was more than that. The reason Mikey collared you and kept you chained tonight at his feet was a lesson in humiliation and obedience. In a fit of sobriety, you had attempted to escape. You didn’t get far.

“That what you’re calling it?”

You look up at Ran. He looks as handsome as ever, but you know the truth of what’s behind his good looks. You know how much blood is on their hands. You nod and drop your eyes again.

His hand grips your jaw tightly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forces you to look up at him. “Such a pretty thing, baby. Open your mouth.”

Fear sparks up your spine. You’re in public, even if it’s the VIP area of the club. There are others around. The hesitation makes Ran dig his fingers in tighter, pressing your cheeks against your teeth as he forces you to open your mouth. He leans in and lets a lob of spit fall from his mouth into yours. You swallow, taking the revulsion with it. He smirks, letting go of your jaw before he pats your cheek. He looks up to Mikey who has the chain you’re attached to wrapped around one of his hands. “Let me know when you’re done with her. She can keep the chain.”

The worst part is that you can only blame yourself. This was a choice you made. Even if you didn’t know it would turn out this way.

⛓️

It had been chance that led you to them. A bad day, week, year…it had all added up to the moment when you found yourself stumbling into a firm chest. You had dropped the paperwork you had been holding and could only watch helplessly as it fell into the rain. You were crying before you realized it, the dam of stress finally breaking. You kneel on the wet ground, tears falling and mixing with the rain that had started to soak into your skin.

He could have left you. He should have left you, but the stranger you ran into paused and bent down, helping you pick up the papers. He made some ill-timed joke about it not being that bad, and before you knew it, you were telling him about how this was going to get you fired. The admission that you were struggling to provide for your family. A younger sibling, a mother in the hospital…you were their last leg of survival. And it was ruined.

Until he offered to help.

You should have run in the other direction and never looked back.

⛓️

You hear his laugh first.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Sanzu says, leaning against the chair behind you. You can practically feel the heat of his body against your back. It’s not surprising. The outfit you’re in can barely be called a dress. “Shit, Mikey…you like her like this? You look like you belong there, sweetheart,” Sanzu says. You ignore the jeering. He likes to get a reaction.

“Maybe we should keep her like this all the time.” A foot nudges the side of your leg. Rindou. It wasn’t often the two of them were together, but it was a dangerous combination. Like the Haitani brothers together and in a competitive mood.

You try to ignore them, but then Rindou moves in front of you. He doesn’t bend down, but he slips his foot between your legs. You watch as he steps a bit closer before pressing the top of his foot up against you. You tremble, trying not to react as he purposefully tries to make you break, to make you beg, to do anything that counts as breaking Mikey’s rules tonight. You try to focus on your breathing instead of how he rubs his foot against you and how the laces on his shoes cause nearly enough friction on your clit through the lace of the underwear you wear.

It’s torture trying to keep yourself from grinding down on it, seeking a release you know they can give you if they’re feeling generous.

Finally, he pulls back and you let out a shuddered breath.

“You must really be sorry,” Rindou says.

A hand digs into your hair, pulling your head back until you’re looking up at Sanzu who’s staring down at you, cerulean eyes narrow in their glare.

“Are you?” he demands.

You nod quickly, tears prickling in your eyes at the pain of your hair being pulled with the motion. “It was a stupid mistake. I’ll be good!”

He drags a drag of whatever he’s smoking and leans down, blowing it in your face. The familiar scent of marijuana engulfs you and you breathe in quickly, chasing the tease of a high. Anything for an escape. “You better fucking hope so,” he says.

⛓️

Kakucho offers you two things when you finally get out of the rain. He’ll smooth over the issues at your job, follow you and explain that the destroyed paperwork was his fault…or he’ll get you a job. One that will compensate you far better than anything you’ll do in an office that doesn’t appreciate you. He can help you protect your family, to give them a better life and better healthcare for your mother.

You’re not stupid. You question his motives first.

He shrugs. “Maybe I just can’t stand to see a pretty girl cry.” There’s something in his eyes that warns you, but you ignore it...and ask what the job entails.

⛓️

Mochi doesn’t kneel in front of you.

He doesn’t do anything like trying to edge you or blow smoke in your face. Instead, he rests his hand on the top of your head as he speaks to Mikey. He stands in front of you, but in a way that feels more like he’s blocking you from the others. A small kindness.

Until he bends down and gently tilts your head up to look at him. He looks at Mikey before offering you a sip of his drink. You agree instantly, letting him tilt it to your lips. “You look good like this, princess. But I prefer you unchained. Hope you learn this lesson. You try it again and one of us just might have to break something.” The drink spills over your lips, making you cough as you choke on the sudden increase of liquid. You bend forward before you can stop yourself, coughing harder. The collar tightens as the chain doesn’t give any further leeway.

You hear someone laugh in the distance. You think it might be Sanzu but you ignore it, well aware of the pleasure they’re taking in your penance. Mikey had given you a choice when you were dragged back in front of him. Your life or your family’s. It was the same one that got you into this situation in the first place. Only this time, if you chose to leave them in the manner they picked, they’d go to your family and drag them deeper into the depths you were submerged in. Your mother was recovering. Your younger sibling has a future ahead of them. You couldn’t bury them in your regrets and bad decisions. You made the same choice you did last time. The same one you’ll make every time.

You go back to your kneeling position once you can breathe again.

⛓️

The job that Kakucho promises is a simple office job. One where you keep your head down and don’t ask questions. It lasts two weeks. Two weeks of learning the systems, of ignoring the small things you start learning about who you’re working for. Two weeks of dealing with the confused looks other people send you, of the way Kakucho appears occasionally to walk you out. Until he kisses you.

He doesn’t apologize when you reel back in surprise. His mismatched eyes watch you, hand grabbing your wrist before you get too far. It’s just a kiss, he tells you. Don’t forget why you’re here.

A reminder that you owe him. You nod and he lets you go, but the next day, a strange man is waiting at your desk. One of the other executives, you quickly learn.

⛓️

The pain in your head is growing.

You want silence or at least something stronger than a puff of smoke shotgunned into your mouth. You never used to do drugs. Funny how fast that all changed. Now you’ll take anything to forget.

Your legs have gone numb under you and you’ll be lucky if you can walk when he finally decides to take you home. There’s no other place for you. You lost your own apartment ages ago and while all the men have used you, Mikey holds you as tight as he does now, whether or not there’s a physical chain that links you. You owe him your life now. He was gracious not to kill you when you ran from them. This is a small price compared to what you could have owed.

“You gonna let her up?”

Takeomi. You don’t see him, but you hear him. If Mikey says anything in response, it blends too well into the background.

“Least he chose you a good outfit. Look up at me, darling.” They each have their pet names for you when they’re being kind…or wanting to mock you and your fate.

You wait for the tug signalling permission before you look up at Mikey’s advisor. He’s smoking a cigarette and standing there, looking down at you. He’s older, a scar on his face like some of the others. Different and yet so similar that it makes you think of Kakucho who’s either not attending or has been ordered away from you.

“You’re fucked up, aren’t you?” he asks. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth before turning to offer it to you. It’s not as strong as you want, but the nicotine might be enough to help ease some of the headache you’re feeling. He lets you inhale twice before he takes it back. An indirect kiss that’s tame compared to some of the other stuff you’ve done together.

“Thank you,” you say, knowing it’s required.

He smirks at you, taking another drag before he turns to Mikey. “You should keep the collar.”

“I know a place,” a new voice interrupts. Koko leans down as he steps up next to you. “We could get one of the ones that she can’t take off. With our symbol carved into it.” He looks at you carefully before lifting your head to look at him. “Thought you’d be crying.” He lets out a small sigh as if he’s disappointed. “You’re prettier when you’re crying.”

You look away, unsure of how to respond to that. Koko likes to spoil you, but he also likes to see you overstimulated and begging for him to stop. Every gift comes with a price and you pay the most with Koko’s.

“You should have come to me,” Koko says softly. “Would have fucked that mistake out of your head.” He uses your term, informing you that they’re talking about you. It’s nothing new. You’ve been with them all, separately and together. They’ve all seen you breaking apart around them and each other. It’s only everyone else that doesn’t get a taste of you.

⛓️

The first time you meet Mikey, you’re outside a club you never wanted to go to. It was some party for the employees and the entire floor had been invited. It had been made clear to you, not only by Kakucho but Ran and the others as well, that your attendance was mandatory.

You’re in the middle of eating one of the snacks you picked up at the convenience store on the way here, leaning against the wall of the club. There’s no line tonight and you’re in no rush to go in. You’d rather not drink on an empty stomach.

It’s not long before you realize someone’s watching you.

You turn to look, but when you finally catch them, it becomes a little more apparent that they’re not staring at you, but at the food in your hand.

“Want one?” you ask. He looks thin, his outfit too large on him. You’re not particularly charitable, but you’d rather get rid of the food and garbage before walking into a club. You offer the bag to him.

He stares at you, finally meeting your eyes, for a long moment. “Why?”

You shrug. “I’m full…and I don’t want to carry it. You can throw it out if you want, but it’s still sealed. I just bought it down the street.”

He takes the bag, pulling the pancake treat out and staring at the package. He looks back at you. “You here?” he asks, nodding towards the club. When you nod, he leaves and you watch incredulously as he walks in with the plastic bag in one hand. The bouncers don’t even ID him.

⛓️

Mikey pulls at your collar until you’re stumbling in front of him, leaning into his legs as you try to ease the pressure. He shifts his position before pulling and you’re left struggling as climb up into his lap at his silent demand.

You straddle his thighs, waiting until he directs you. You’re not usually this calm, this submissive, but the threat of your family’s lives hangs over your head. Regret for your own choices sits heavy in your gut. It’s your own fault.

“Look at me.”

You lift your eyes to meet Mikey’s. His gaze is dark, but it’s not empty like it used to be. Not like when you met. He stares at you for a long moment before his hand slips between your legs. Your breath hitches as his fingers shove your underwear to the side, pressing in. He doesn’t look away from you as he swipes up before pulling his fingers out. They shine slightly, slick with the wetness that gathered from Rindou’s foot and the way the men have come to tease you, to try to make you react to them to exacerbate your punishment.

He holds them up between you before moving them to your mouth. You open instantly, letting Mikey press his fingers down on your tongue. You close your lips around them, sucking softly and trying to clean yourself off of him.

“Trying hard to earn my forgiveness, aren’t you?” he says.

You nod, moving your tongue over his fingers until he shoves them further down your throat until you choke. Tears build up in your eyes instantly. He keeps them there as you struggle to breathe before he pulls them out.

You gasp for air, tears falling down your cheeks. A sharp smack against your ass makes you take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from crying.

“You want my forgiveness. Earn it.”

⛓️

Your back is to his chest as you face the room. The music thumps in along with your heartbeat. You’re not sure where one stops and the other begins at this point. Smoke hangs in the air, a hazy mix of tobacco, marijuana and fog from the machines. It’s not enough.

You rock your hips, trying to build the pleasure for both of you. Mikey is hard inside you, stretching you deliciously, one hand looped around the chain attached to your collar while the other rests on the side of the couch he sits on. You’re doing all the work, trying your best to get him off, to ignore the eyes of the Executives on you. You’ve seen some of them palming themselves already, trying to ease the tension building from the sight of you fucking their leader.

You’d be more embarrassed if you weren’t so focused on this. It's not the first time they’ve watched you, but you’re usually somewhere more private. Not in the VIP section of a club, a open balcony where anyone could see you if they actually wanted to. The crowd would be able to hear you whining, desperate and needy, if it wasn’t for the music. You’re surprised but you don’t question the choice. None of them like sharing you and the last time someone else other than any of them walked in on you taking care of one of them, they ended up dead.

“Mikey–” you groan, grinding your hips back into his. “Mikey, please,” you beg. You’re not allowed to cum until he lets you.

The chain pulls suddenly, yanking your head back until you’re arching your back and your face is next to his. It hurts but you don’t dare complain. Not when you’ve managed to avoid it so far.

“You ordering me?” he asks. “You think you deserve to cum?”

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, hands reaching to the collar, trying to ease some of the pressure. You deviate before you touch it, hearing one of the other men groan in disappointment that you’re still coherent enough to not get yourself into more trouble. Instead, you cup your breasts over the slip of a dress you wear. “‘m sorry…” you whine, trying to move your hips, to chase the high that’s building.

“Look at them.”

Your eyes try to find the other men watching the two of you but the angle you’re currently forced into makes it difficult.

“The only reason you’re not being fucked by them is because of me. Because I haven’t given them permission.” He thrusts his hips up, making you cry out in surprise at the sudden change. “I own you. You gave your life to me and here you are, fucking yourself on me, begging me for a release you don’t fucking deserve. You want to cum? Fucking beg for my forgiveness.”

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, tears burning in your eyes from the pain of the position you’re in. “Mikey, I’m sorry! I’ll never run again! I swear! I’ll be good! Please, Mikey! I was wrong! I’m yours!”

“Hmm..” he doesn’t say anything else, but the pressure on your throat finally eases and you’re able to lean forward, breathing like normal again. You put your hands on his knees before going back to moving your hips, to using him to fuck yourself on at his orders.

It doesn’t take long before he tires of your pace. His hand is on your throat, his other arm wraps around your waist as he thrusts up into you. He pulls you down, slamming you onto him. There’s nothing you can do but hold on, begging for a release he’s continued to refuse you.

He breaks, pulling you down onto him, cock twitching as he cums inside. You moan at the feeling but it’s still not enough, not to get you off. You’re left on the cusp of your orgasm, feeling needy and desperate in a way that you’ve long gotten over hating yourself for.

“Mikey, please..” you beg quietly.

He pulls you back, hand stroking softly against your hip as he presses his lips against the spot behind your ear. “You ever try to leave again, I’ll gift you to my men. All of them.” The threat freezes in your chest. It was one thing to be shared amongst the top men of Bonten. It was a whole other to be given to the men who made up the layers of the organization. You wouldn’t survive it.

“I’ll be good,” you promise.

He kisses your neck again before holding up the chain that’s attached to the collar around your neck. “Ran.”

You turn, looking to see the eldest Haitani grin before getting up to fetch you. There’s a prominent bulge in his pants as he takes the leash from Mikey.

“Come on, baby. You gotta apologize to all of us,” he says with a smirk. “Think you can make it up to me too?”

“I expect her back when she’s done.”

You carefully climb off of Mikey’s lap, ignoring the feeling of Mikey’s release slipping out of you and trailing down your thigh, and follow Ran as he leads you by the chain toward the others. Regret churns in your stomach and you quickly shove it down.

After all, you can only blame yourself.

everything tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @themaradwrites @kingsmakers @far-shores

#dark!fic #bonten x reader #mikey sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #bonten smut #bonten x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader #fem reader

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