#you’re not obligated to do all of these they’re just some ideas

[akindplace]

dont give up on yourself or on other people just because there are awful people doing terrible things out there. shitty people do a lot of damage, but giving up in desperation and defeat only helps their cause, it’s what they want you do. you can still believe in a better world and do what you can to help people in need. you still have your own power, even if it’s smaller in comparison, don’t relinquish it to them too. we’re not giving up, we’re holding on to each other, because there are still good people out there and we must to hold on to our humanity in times where others seem to have completely lost theirs.

[diamonddaze01]

oh, baby!

pairing: husband!seungcheol x fem!reader, bestfriend!jeonghan x fem!reader wc: 5.4k genre: fluff, crack | au: non-idol!au | rating: pg warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: based on an ask by an anon! i love writing miscommunication LMAO. i'm not the best with stuff regarding pregnancy though, so if this reads bad...im sorry // big thanks to @tusswrites for beta-ing and giving me ideas for the scenes! and thank yoj to @wongyuseokie for the lovely banner!

summary: in which jeonghan knows he's the bestest of friends, so why can't you tell him your secret? read as: jeonghan knows you're pregnant. you have to be, right?

Jeonghan prides himself on being a really good friend. The best, even, if you asked him. He’s the kind of friend who remembers everyone’s favorite coffee order, who diffuses arguments with that easy smile (just ask Seungkwan and Seokmin about the infamous Jeju incident), and who somehow manages to be exactly where you need him, exactly when you need him.

He’s the one who introduced you to Seungcheol, and later, he turned down Seungcheol’s offer of being best man just so he could stand by your side during the wedding. He held back tears as he watched his two best friends exchange vows, hands trembling with how much he cared for both of you. Jeonghan even caught the bouquet afterward— everyone relentlessly teases him about it—and he keeps some of the petals in his wallet, pressed flat like they’re part of his heart.

So, yeah. Jeonghan considers himself the ultimate best friend—which is why he’s feeling a little miffed that you didn’t tell him. You’re pregnant, and he had to overhear it like some nosy bystander. Granted, it’s not like you’re obligated to share every detail right away, but he can’t help the small sting of hurt, the sense that he’s been left out of something monumental. And if there’s one thing Jeonghan’s always wanted, it’s to be the cool uncle— the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

Jeonghan knows he shouldn’t have eavesdropped (he knows, truly), but he couldn’t resist when he saw the two of you murmuring in a corner outside the bar, expressions far too serious for a simple night out. He presses himself against the door of his car, praying he’s hidden in the shadow, and watches as you drop your head against Seungcheol’s shoulder, your hand gripping his tightly.

“It’s okay, baby,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft, his hand gently circling your back. The quiet reassurance sounds so intimate, so tender, it tugs at something in Jeonghan’s chest.

“What are we gonna do?” you whisper, your words muffled as you press your nose into Seungcheol’s neck.

Jeonghan holds his breath as he watches Seungcheol pull back, his hands moving to your hips, fingers splayed protectively. His thumbs start tracing soothing circles at the bottom of your stomach, eyes locked onto yours with an intensity Jeonghan has rarely seen. “We’ll do whatever you want, my love,” Seungcheol says, voice steady. “It’s your choice.”

And that’s when it hits Jeonghan, right there in the cold. His heart skips a beat. Pregnant. You’re pregnant.

A thrill courses through him, excitement mingling with nerves. You’re going to be parents—something he’d always imagined would happen one day, but he never expected it to feel this real, this soon. He’s already picturing himself as the “cool uncle,” the one your kid would adore, the one they could go to for all kinds of secrets and stories.

But why hadn’t you told him? The sting of hurt starts to creep in, subtle yet unshakable. He’s your best friend—shouldn’t he have been one of the first to know? He sighs, leaning back against the car, the chilly metal pressing into his back, anchoring him. Maybe it’s early; maybe you’re waiting to process this as a couple. The thought soothes him slightly. And while he’d love nothing more than to rush over and demand answers, he knows he’ll have to wait until you’re ready.

His phone buzzes, startling him. Joshua.

joshuji: u coming in or what

joshuji: we want alc hurry UP

Jeonghan glances up, heart still racing, as he spots you and Seungcheol walking toward the bar’s entrance. He straightens his jacket, quickly pasting on his most nonchalant smile. Nothing happened, he tells himself. Just a regular night out.

Inside, the bar is alive with the hum of laughter and music, dim lights casting warm shadows across the wooden tables. Usually, Jeonghan would soak in the energy, but tonight he’s got a mission. He spots Joshua waving him over to the booth, where you, Seungcheol, and the rest of the group are already seated, laughter spilling out as Seungkwan finishes a story. Jeonghan can see the happiness on your face, the ease in the way you lean against Seungcheol—and it grounds him, if only a little.

Sliding into the booth, Jeonghan flashes a quick grin. “Alright, what did I miss?”

“Just in time!” you say brightly, reaching for the menu with a casualness that Jeonghan can’t help but find a little too… normal. “We haven’t ordered yet, but I’m thinking something fruity. Maybe a cocktail?”

His heart skips a beat. Cocktail? Oh, absolutely not. The protective instinct kicks in faster than his thoughts.

“Actually…” He reaches across the table, plucking the menu from your hands before he can even think twice. “Maybe tonight’s not a cocktail night for you?”

You blink, confused. “Huh? Since when are you my personal bartender?”

His laugh is quick, covering his nervousness. “Oh, I just… well, you’ve been looking kind of tired lately. Right, Seungcheol?” He tosses a hopeful glance in Seungcheol’s direction.

Seungcheol, clearly not expecting the cue, fumbles slightly before nodding. “Uh, yeah, babe, now that he mentions it… maybe.”

Your gaze sharpens, suspicion creeping in as you study Jeonghan’s face. “Tired? I’m not tired. I’m fine!”

Jeonghan quickly backpedals, his mind racing. “Of course you are! It’s just, well, you know, the cocktails here are pretty strong. Maybe a soda or a nice glass of water, just to keep things… chill?”

Joshua’s eyebrow arches in amusement. “Since when do you care about people drinking, Jeonghan?”

“Just looking out for my friends!” Jeonghan insists, pulling you close and throwing his arm around your shoulders in a playful half-hug. “Only the best for you, buddy! Besides, wouldn’t want you, uh… getting woozy on us.”

You narrow your eyes, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “I think I can handle one cocktail, Jeonghan.”

He glances around, desperate. “Right, right, but you know, Seungkwan was just saying how amazing the mocktails are here. No… risks. All the flavor. Right, Seungkwan?”

Seungkwan’s mouth opens, clearly taken by surprise, but he gives a quick nod. “Yeah! Mocktails. They’re, uh… very safe. Delicious, too.”

You fold your arms, your amusement turning into a mix of suspicion and annoyance. “What’s going on with you tonight, Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan stammers, adjusting his posture but keeping his smile intact, though his face flushes under the dim lights. “Nothing! Just… just looking out for you. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Your expression softens, the suspicion melting into exasperated affection. With a sigh, you shrug. “Fine. I’ll try the mocktail, I guess.”

Relief washes over him, his shoulders relaxing as he shoots a quick grin at Seungcheol, who shakes his head, clearly amused but in on the act. For the rest of the evening, Jeonghan doesn’t let his guard down for a second. Every time the waiter brings over a drink, he discreetly “taste-tests” yours with an exaggerated nod before passing it along.

“Just making sure it’s up to your high standards,” he says with a smirk each time you raise an eyebrow at him.

You laugh, shaking your head, your hand instinctively slipping into Seungcheol’s under the table, your thumb stroking his knuckles.  “You’re acting so weird tonight, Jeonghan.”

If only you knew.

Jeonghan wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He swears. He’s just standing by the kitchen counter, the crinkling bag of chips in his hand an innocent alibi, while scanning the room for something—or someone—interesting. The dinner is in full swing, music humming softly in the background, conversations buzzing like white noise, and he’s basking in the satisfying quiet of being a wallflower in a room full of social butterflies.

He pops another chip into his mouth, savoring the salty crunch, when Mingyu’s voice cuts through the atmosphere like a spotlight snapping on.

“Seungcheol, man, we’re so proud of you!” Mingyu says, loud enough to turn heads.

Jeonghan tilts his own head slightly, his chip midair. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Yeah, seriously,” Seungkwan pipes up, clapping Seungcheol on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “It’s about time!”

Jeonghan’s hand hovers, chip forgotten as he shifts his attention. A small crowd is forming around Seungcheol now, congratulatory pats and cheers echoing through the room. Seungcheol, as always, wears the kind of bashful grin that makes it clear he’s soaking in the attention, even if he pretends he doesn’t like it.

“It really did take years,” Seungcheol admits, rubbing the back of his neck in that way he always does when he’s being humble.

And there you are, standing right beside him, smiling so warmly that Jeonghan swears the room tilts a little. “But he didn’t give up. I’ve seen him work so hard, day and night,” you say, the pride in your voice impossible to miss.

Jeonghan’s brow furrows as he slowly lowers the chip to the bag. Pride. Hard work. Years. What’s this about?

The murmurs of approval spread through the group like wildfire. Jeonghan catches Mingyu and Seungkwan clinking their beers in silent celebration.

“It’s not easy breaking into this industry,” Mingyu says sagely, though Jeonghan knows for a fact the most Mingyu’s ever ‘broken into’ is a tub of ice cream after a long day.

Jeonghan frowns. Industry? His mind races as he flicks his gaze between you and Seungcheol. What industry?

“Man,” Seungcheol begins, shaking his head with a small, nostalgic laugh, “those years in the bedroom and basements—”

Jeonghan chokes on his chip.

Heads whip around to look at him. He coughs, hand over his mouth, scrambling to recover.

“Bedroom?” Jeonghan croaks, louder than he intended.

A few people snicker, but Seungcheol looks more confused than anything, one brow arching as he crosses his arms. “Uh… yeah?”

Jeonghan blinks rapidly, his mind running laps. Years in the bedroom? With you? And basements? What does that even mean?

“That’s where I started making music,” Seungcheol continues, his voice steady but tinged with the slightest bit of defensiveness.

“Oh,” Jeonghan mutters, the word barely audible over the thudding of his pulse. “Music.” He forces his face to remain neutral, though his brain is screaming. He takes another chip, if only to have something to do with his hands.

Seungcheol doesn’t stop, his voice gaining momentum like a runaway train. “It was rough, honestly. I spent hours in there, pouring everything into it, over and over again—”

Jeonghan’s hand freezes in the bag, his eyes going wide as unbidden images flicker through his mind. Images that have nothing to do with music. He fights the urge to slap himself.

“And you supported me through all of it,” Seungcheol says, his voice softening as he turns to you. His eyes practically glow with sincerity.

You smile at him, your expression so warm, so open, that Jeonghan feels a twinge of secondhand emotion. There’s something private in the way you look at Seungcheol, something that feels too big for a moment like this.

And yet, Jeonghan can’t help but tighten his grip on the chip bag.

Mingyu breaks the moment with a hearty clap on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “It’s inspiring, really. You just kept going, even when it got hard.”

Jeonghan’s chip crumbles in his hand. Did no one else hear that?

“Well,” you say with a laugh that’s just shy of teasing, “he never does things halfway. When he’s passionate, he’s all in.”

Jeonghan presses his lips together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he stifles a laugh. He risks a glance around the room, but no one else seems fazed.

Seungcheol chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck again. “What can I say? It’s worth it when it’s something you love.”

Jeonghan is two seconds away from either bursting into laughter or leaving this dinner altogether. He doesn’t know which option will save his sanity faster.

“Man,” Seungkwan says, grinning broadly, “and now you’re a producer at that studio! You really made it, Cheol.”

Jeonghan freezes mid-breath. Producer?

“Oh,” he blurts out before he can stop himself. “Music.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrows as he turns toward Jeonghan. “Yeah? What else would it be?”

“Nothing,” Jeonghan replies quickly, brushing off the crumbs from his hands as nonchalantly as possible. “Congrats, man. Really proud of you.”

Seungcheol eyes him for a beat longer before Mingyu distracts him with another round of enthusiastic pats.

As the conversation flows back to lighter topics, Jeonghan sneaks another glance at you and Seungcheol. You’re laughing at something he’s said, your hand swatting his arm playfully, and Seungcheol leans down to whisper something in your ear. The way you nudge him back, your smile soft, makes Jeonghan’s chest feel oddly heavy.

He shakes his head, letting out a quiet laugh to himself. I’m definitely overthinking this.

But no matter how many chips he eats, the phrase “years in the bedroom and basements” echoes in his mind, refusing to leave.

Sunday brunch has been a sacred tradition ever since you and Jeonghan were broke, hungover, and shamelessly nosy college kids. It used to be a chance to pick apart every terrible decision from the night before—who ended up with who, which of your friends was blacklisted from your favorite bar this time, and whether that one prof actually knew how to teach or was just winging it. Now it’s all slightly more respectable, though the core vibe is the same: hungover, nosy, a little too loud for public, and still hung up on the drama of the week.

When Jeonghan strolls in, spotting you at your usual table with an iced Americano in hand, he stops short. For a second, he feels a wave of pride—he’s got his act together, and you’re clueless as ever—but it’s quickly followed by a flash of concern. So he switches gears, zeroes in on your coffee cup, and slides into the booth with what he hopes looks like an easy grin.

He prides himself on subtlety, Jeonghan does. He’s sure he can manage this without causing alarm, without making you feel pressured or spied on. Just a small adjustment to the routine. Easy.

“Hey, what’s that you’re drinking?” he asks as he slides into the seat across from you, keeping his tone light but shooting you a grin that’s maybe a little too tight. He plucks the coffee cup from your hand before you can react, inspecting it like he’s never seen iced coffee before.

“Uh… an iced Americano?” You raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything, but he can already tell you’re getting suspicious. You take in his tight smile and his sudden interest in your drink. “Why?”

He takes a quick sip and barely stifles a grimace. “Iced Americano. Really? You drink this every Sunday?”

You shrug. “Yeah, since forever. What’s your deal?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says, shrugging it off as he slides the coffee back. “Just thought you’d want something herbal, maybe? Like… chamomile? Peppermint?” he offers, trying to sound casual. “Soothing stuff, you know? Maybe something decaf?”

“Herbal?” You narrow your eyes. “When did you get all wholesome on me? Since when do you care about herbal tea?”

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirking, skepticism starting to creep into your eyes. “Herbal? Are you okay? Since when do you care about, like, chamomile tea?”

He gives a quick shrug, faking his usual breeziness. “I’m just saying! Caffeine’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know? All the jitters, the heartburn…” He trails off, flashing a strained smile. He’s proud of how smoothly he’s handling this, trying to steer you away from the iced coffee without raising any red flags.

You give him a look, deadpan. “Han, I have one coffee, once a week. And half of it’s in your stomach now, so don’t lecture me.”

He barks out a laugh, forcing himself to look casual as hell as he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Right, right. My bad. But you should try water instead—hydration is key, y’know.” Without giving you a chance to argue, he pops out of the booth and heads to the counter for a bottle of water.

He keeps an eye on you from the counter, grinning to himself like he’s just scored a major win. This is step one, and he figures if he plays his cards right, you won’t even notice his sudden caffeine-sabotage campaign. He grabs a bottle, quickly sidling back over to the booth.

He plunks it down in front of you with a wide smile, as if he’s doing you the world’s biggest favor. “Stay hydrated. That shit is better than any iced Americano.”

You just stare at him, bewildered. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

“Nothing!” Jeonghan insists, a bit too enthusiastically. But then, maybe he overplays his hand. The next thing he knows, he’s sliding the bottle over to you and muttering, “Gotta stay hydrated, buddy.”

“Buddy?” You shoot him a look that could drill holes. You’re not buying it, not even a little. Jeonghan practically flinches because, yeah, he never calls you “buddy.” Normally, it’s just your name—or a well-timed “ho” when he’s feeling especially feisty. He can tell the second he says it that he’s tipped you off, just a bit.

And now, you’re watching him, that too-sharp glint in your eyes. “Since when am I your buddy?” you ask, voice laced with suspicion.

Jeonghan keeps his grin intact, waving it off like he’s got nothing to hide. “What? Aren’t we buddies?” He goes for his water glass and takes a long, slow sip, playing up the nonchalance. “Just looking out for you. You need a buddy to make sure you stay hydrated, that’s all.”

But he’s starting to see it in your eyes—that look you get when you know he’s up to something. He can feel his casual act slipping, so he pulls back, deciding to ease up on the hints. “Anyway,” he says, tone lightening, “I’m just messing with you,” He leans back, stretching with a lazy grin that he hopes comes off as relaxed, not calculated. “So, anyway. Tell me about what that idiot boss of yours pulled this week.”

You’re still squinting at him, but he can see you filing his “buddy” slip-up away for later. Probably already figuring out ways to make him squirm next time he tries to pull something over on you. The thought almost makes him laugh.

Despite the coffee swiping, you settle back, leaning into the usual rhythm of your weekly debrief, losing yourself in the vent session as you pick at your food and Jeonghan eggs you on. He throws in his own commentary—“I swear, that guy’s one bad review from a lawsuit”—while giving you sideways glances, watching to make sure you’re sipping the water. And every now and then, he slides your plate a little closer, pushing you to take another bite.

But in between the jokes, he’s already plotting his next move. Subtlety is the name of the game, after all. He just has to keep you guessing long enough to make sure you’re taking care of yourself… without letting on that he’s keeping watch over two of you now.

Seungkwan has chosen a sports park for the monthly hangout, a classic Seungkwan move—something energetic, competitive, and likely to end in some hilarious disaster. Everyone’s in high spirits as they gather under the bright sun, ready to kick off the day with some casual sports. It's the perfect opportunity for some fun, but as usual, Jeonghan’s on a different wavelength.

Jeonghan prides himself on being subtle—too subtle, probably. He doesn’t want to overstep, doesn’t want to make you feel pressured, but his instincts are... well, Jeonghan instincts. And right now, they’re telling him something’s off.

There’s been too much of you skipping out on things, and while he would normally chalk it up to your “weird habits” or just you being you, today it’s starting to feel... different. You’ve been playing it off, pretending everything’s normal, but he can feel the change. And he's not about to let this slip by.

First, there was the iced Americano incident. The way you looked at him when he tried to take it away—it wasn’t just you rolling your eyes. You were trying to hide something. Then last night, at dinner, you hardly touched your drink, instead opting for water—water, for god’s sake. And now... here you are, standing way too still in the middle of a busy sports park, looking like you’d rather be anywhere else. Jeonghan is practically scanning your every move.

Seungkwan’s already yapping about his plan for a “friendly” soccer match, while the others are warming up on the sidelines. You’re laughing with the girls, joking about who’s going to be the first to get a goal past Seungkwan’s notoriously awful defense. It’s all very chill, very normal, but Jeonghan’s eyes keep darting to you. It’s subtle—he’ll give you that—but there’s a difference in the way you’re standing. 

Yeah. This is definitely it. You’re pregnant.

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say it out loud. He knows. He knows in his gut. You're keeping it from him. The way you’ve been acting—it's obvious. You’re pregnant, and you’re hiding it. But he’s not about to make a scene. No. He’ll be subtle about this. He’ll protect you without you knowing he’s doing it. He’s not going to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. He’ll just... look out for you.

He watches you take a sip from your water bottle, and the sight of you not reaching for something more exciting (like your usual iced Americano or even a bloody beer) sends alarm bells ringing in his head. No way. You’ve been on a healthy streak all day. Something’s wrong.

Slipping into the conversation as casually as he can manage, he leans on the edge of the table, giving you his most easygoing smile. "Hey, buddy," he says, eyes flicking to yours, a little too sharp.

Shit. There it is. “Buddy”—again. He’s almost positive you’ve caught him red-handed. His instincts are getting worse, and it’s almost like he can feel the sweat forming at the back of his neck.

You blink, confused, and he feels a little too caught off guard. Shit. Did he just say that out loud?

“What?”

“Just checking in,” Jeonghan continues smoothly, his tone dropping an octave. “You sure you’re alright to just... watch today? You know, I’ve been thinking, soccer is a little intense, don’t you think? It could be a lot on your body...”

You look at him, a little puzzled, probably trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. "It’s just a game, Jeonghan."

“Yeah,” he shrugs, trying to mask the panic that’s bubbling up. He needs to keep this light, keep it casual. "But still, with your... situation.” He trails off, forcing himself to look like he’s just making a suggestion.

You frown now, clearly starting to get suspicious.

Without waiting for you to question him further, he quickly slides into a new tactic. “You know, hydration’s important,” he says, snatching the water bottle from your hands and taking it upon himself to force it into your grip. "I think you should drink more water. It’s the best thing for you right now." He gives you an exaggerated smile, all teeth. “You’ll be just fine if you stay hydrated.”

You’re about to protest—he knows you are—but before you can get the words out, he quickly walks off, telling himself it’s fine, just fine. Keep it cool, Jeonghan. You’re fine.

But his mind is still working overtime, running through all the signs he’s seen—skipping drinks, staying still, not participating. And every single one of them is screaming the same thing.

You’re pregnant.

He glances back over his shoulder to check on you—thankfully, you’re still sitting, still sipping the water like the good little soldier he’s turning you into.

Suddenly, Seungcheol appears out of nowhere, grinning like a fool, pulling you away from the picnic table. “C’mon, babe, time to stretch those legs. Don’t tell me you’re already done being the cheerleader?”

Relief washes over Jeonghan, and he feels a knot in his chest loosen. There you go, Seungcheol, swooping in to save the day—taking you away from all the chaos he’s cooked up in his head. You’re in good hands. For now, at least.

Jeonghan watches as Seungcheol sweeps you into the crowd, joining the others on the field. He’s grateful—so grateful—that you haven’t caught on yet. Not yet.

The party is buzzing, the clinking of glasses and laughter filling the room as Seungcheol’s birthday kicks into high gear. It’s the usual mix of their close-knit friend group—Seungkwan, Mingyu, Vernon, Jihoon, and all the others—each in their own little bubble of conversation, but you? You’re standing off to the side with that damn glass of champagne in your hand, eyes glancing around, and there’s something about the way you’re holding it that has Jeonghan’s mind spinning.

You’re standing there like you belong to no one, not even yourself, but something about the way you keep looking at your glass makes him uneasy. Maybe it’s the way your fingers are wrapped around it too carefully, almost like you’re avoiding drinking. Or maybe it’s the way you keep glancing at Seungcheol, who’s busy chatting away with Mingyu and Vernon, like he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s hard to tell, but Jeonghan can’t shake the feeling something’s off.

Then it happens. The moment he’s been waiting for.

You raise the glass, like you’re about to toast. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses grows louder, and it’s like the whole room pauses. Jeonghan’s mind clicks into overdrive, his instincts kicking in, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, his hand is moving.

One smooth motion, and the champagne is in his hand, your glass no longer where it was just a second ago.

He doesn’t look at you when he does it. He doesn’t need to. He just takes it, like it’s nothing. Because, in his mind, it’s something. He’s doing you a favor, right? He’s looking out for you, protecting you from something—something you don’t even realize you need protection from.

Your frown is immediate. Your eyes narrow, and you turn to face him, the glass now mysteriously missing from your grasp.

“Jeonghan, what the hell?” Your voice is sharp, confused, but there’s an undertone of concern. And for a split second, Jeonghan feels his stomach tighten. He’s not sure if it’s nerves or guilt, but damn if it doesn’t feel like something.

He keeps his cool, though. It’s Jeonghan, after all. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t falter. He smiles, giving a shrug like this is no big deal. “I’m just trying to protect you,” he says, voice light, playful, even though there’s a certain tension in his shoulders that he can’t quite shake.

“Protect me?” You stare at him, eyes widening in disbelief. “From what?”

His heart beats a little faster now, because this—this is the moment. He knows he’s been right. He’s sure he’s been right. It’s been building up, the signs have been obvious, and if he doesn’t stop you now, he could be too late.

“Pregnant people can’t have alcohol,” Jeonghan says, his tone turning a little more serious, but he’s still keeping it light. Too light. He barely catches the way your brow furrows as you process his words.

You blink at him, the confusion settling into something far more incredulous. “Okay, thank you for that little factoid,” you say, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Who’s pregnant?”

Jeonghan can feel his pulse picking up, his gaze darting nervously from you to the champagne in his hand. Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but you look like you know. You’ve caught him. You’ve noticed the signs, and this is it. He’s been caught red-handed.

“You are?” Jeonghan’s voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, the words tumbling out of him before he can stop them. He doesn’t even recognize the tone of his own voice—he just knows that this is the moment he’s been dreading and, somehow, waiting for.

And then you start laughing. Laughing.

It’s loud, it’s spontaneous, and it fills the entire room. Your shoulders shake with it, your face turning pink with the force of your amusement. And for the first time since he walked in, Jeonghan feels like a damn idiot. A total idiot.

“WHAT?” Jeonghan can barely get the word out before he realizes what he’s said, and now, you’re laughing even harder, clutching your stomach like it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you.

Seungcheol’s head whips around from where he’s talking to Mingyu and Vernon, his curiosity piqued by the sound of your laughter. You’re still giggling, though, and Jeonghan watches in utter confusion as Seungcheol’s grin slowly spreads across his face.

“What are we laughing about?” Seungcheol asks, his voice thick with amusement, his arm sliding around your waist as he walks over to you.

Your laughter is still uncontrollable, and you’re leaning into Seungcheol as if this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened. “Jeonghan over here thinks I’m pregnant,” you say between laughs, and Jeonghan feels a lump form in his throat.

It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense.

Seungcheol starts laughing too, looking from you to Jeonghan like he’s just stumbled across some inside joke. His arm around your waist tightens, and he pulls you onto his lap with that effortless strength of his. You’re still giggling, though now, you’re half sitting on Seungcheol’s lap, your face buried in his neck, clearly enjoying the chaos you’ve unleashed.

Jeonghan is standing there like he’s been hit by a truck. His brain’s scrambling to catch up. Wait, this isn’t what he thought was happening, is it?

“You’re not...?” Jeonghan stammers. His voice is a little too high, like he’s a kid who just learned that Santa isn’t real. You're not pregnant?

You wipe the tears from your eyes, finally able to speak. “Pregnant? No, Jeonghan, why would you think that?”

Jeonghan’s hand tightens around the champagne glass, his mind replaying every little thing he’d witnessed over the last week. The water at dinner, the soccer game, the way you were avoiding alcohol— it all clicks into place, and he can feel the weight of his mistake crushing down on him. “But at the bar—the whole ‘it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want’ thing?” Jeonghan’s voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going. “And the drinking water at dinner last week instead of wine? And the not playing soccer?”

You just stare at him, eyes wide with disbelief, but this time, there’s a trace of sympathy in them. “Jeonghan,” you say, a little quieter now, “our lease is up. We were stressed about finding a new place to live. That’s why I didn’t drink, and the whole soccer thing? I had a cold that day.”

Seungcheol, still holding you on his lap, leans in with a grin. “Dude, she had to drive us home,” he adds, voice full of playful exasperation. “And she was sick that day. You seriously thought she was pregnant?”

Jeonghan blinks a couple of times, like the whole world has just shifted. The understanding starts to dawn on him, slow and painful. Oh. He almost wants to bury his face in his hands. “Right. Oh.”

“Yeah, OH,” you say, still chuckling. “Now, give me back my drink so I can drink to my beautiful, spectacular husband, whose baby I am NOT carrying.”

Seungcheol laughs and presses a quick kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as he looks over at Jeonghan with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Jeonghan. She’s not pregnant. But I’ll take the champagne now. You can go ahead and get her some water, though. She might still need it after all that laughing.”

Jeonghan lets out a long breath, his face a mix of embarrassment and relief, and finally hands your champagne back to you, though he looks like he wants to sink into the floor. “Right. Right. You’re welcome. No baby. Got it.”

You raise your glass toward Seungcheol with a grin, finally able to focus on the toast you’ve been trying to make all evening. “To my incredible, perfect husband—who, I assure you, I’m not pregnant with.”

Jeonghan, though, is standing off to the side, looking like he just got hit with a truck. He rubs his temples, muttering to himself. He’s definitely not going to live this one down. Not today, not ever.

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[no-144444]

family issues-l.norris (no.4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! sky presenter! reader

summary: lando (and his mum) are there for you during a difficult time.

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

P1. Pole position. Incredible. 

“Well done,” you smiled, hugging him close as he entered his driver’s room. “You did really well.”

You could feel his smile against your neck. “Thanks baby.”

You stayed there like that for a moment, just holding each other, then he pulled back with a big smile on his face. “OH! My mum is here, you can finally meet her!”

A part of your heart sank, and another part lifted. You’d met a good portion of his family and they were all lovely. It’s just that every time you met a part of his family, he wanted to meet a part of your family. You’d been dating for a year now, and up until 2 months ago, yeah, he could’ve met your family. But then… they decided to go no-contact with you. They just told you not to call or visit anymore. You weren’t their daughter anymore. Whatever, that was fine. Your parents were emotionally unavailable due to your sister’s mental health issues, and your sister didn’t treat you well at all. You were the glass child. 2 months ago you’d gone to dinner with them and your sister brought up all your ‘happy memories’, but all of them were moments without you, or moments where you were the joke. You’d gotten upset at them, and apparently that was all they needed to kick you out of the family. So much for love. So much for blood. Lando couldn’t make it to that dinner, and he was so upset that he couldn’t. He was worried your parents thought he wasn’t serious, or that he was dodging meeting them, but you told him not to worry, that they’d meet ‘another time’. Now, you were out of chances. You didn't tell Lando about the fight or everything that came after, he’d been struggling enough with his own mental health without you having to burden him with yours. So, you just swallowed it and told yourself you’d tell him over the summer shutdown. Then, Lando was having so much fun that you didn’t want to ruin it, so you decided you’d tell him after Singapore. Probably. Maybe. 

“Awesome!” you smiled. Even you could tell you didn’t sound right, too pitchy, too awkward, too surprised. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you nodded. “Where is she? I want to meet her.” 

He nodded, still sceptical but obliged you and led you to his mother. Cisca was warm and welcoming, funny and kind, and just a good person. You saw so much of her in Lando. He was beaming as he watched you two interact, so happy that two of the most important people in his life got along. You spent the whole afternoon together as Lando went on with his duties, chatting about your lives, sharing stories about Lando and yourselves, you even got to see some embarrassing baby photos of Lando.

“So what about your parents? Do they ever come to the races?” She asked, a big smile on her face. 

“Well, no actually. We don’t talk much,” you chuckled. 

She raised an eyebrow, the same way Lando does. “Really? Lan told me that you were quite close with them?”

You sighed. “Can I tell you something? And you can’t tell Lan.”

She nodded and took your hand. “Of course.”

“2 months ago my parents disowned me. Lan has been begging to meet them and I have no idea what to tell him. I feel awful about it, and I didn’t want to add to his stress so I just keep lying to him telling him they’re busy. I just feel so… guilty,” you admitted. 

She sighed. “You poor girl. It's awful that you have to go through all of that on your own.” 

“Well, it’s not that bad,” you chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

“It is. And that’s ok. It’s ok to be upset,” she smiled warmly. “I know my son, and he has not shut up about you since he met you as a sky presenter 2 years ago. Lan is a family-oriented person, and he’s just excited to be a part of your family and have you be a part of ours. He’d want to be there for you, the same way you’re there for him.”

You could feel yourself tearing up. You’d never had someone be so kind to you, never had someone treat you like a daughter. “Thank you,” you smiled sadly. 

“And anyways, your parents suck, you can be my daughter now,” she smiled.

And you definitely cried. But, they were happy tears. You’d found your family. 

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

After your eye-opening conversation with Cisca, you decided you’d come clean to Lando. As you two entered your room he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. 

“How was my mum today?” he asked, his voice deep with tiredness, and eyes heavy with sleep. 

“She was amazing, we had a bunch of fun,” you smiled. “Can I talk to you about something?”

He nodded. “‘Course baby.”

“It’s about my family.” 

Lando woke up slightly, sitting on the bed as you stood between his legs. “Alright.”

“2 months ago, after that dinner I went to, they cut contact and disowned me. It was up to my sister why and well, we know how much he hates me. So yeah, I have no family anymore, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t want to burden you with it.”

You looked at Lando and his face was a mixture of anger, guilt, and upset. He cleared his throat and his grip around your waist got tighter. “Number one, I’m so sorry that happened to you. That’s fucking shit and your parents don’t deserve you. Number two, you will never ever be a burden to me. Ever. You’re the most important person in my life. I love you Y/n, more than anything. I always want you to come to me about things that are happening and how you feel. Number three, fuck your family, you’re my family, alright?” 

You chuckled sadly, running your fingers through his hair. “Right. Thanks Lan, I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you more.”

“I feel it,” you smiled. He stood up and kissed your cheek. 

“Seriously, I’m here for you, always. Never forget that.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I know. I won’t.”

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[beloveds-embrace]

I think it would be so funny if Duke Price, before he and the other warms up to duchess, finds out that his wife has been secretly getting money via trade and whatnot and being offended. Like, why not come to me, your husband, for money??

And she just straight up tells him that she doesn’t trust or like him or his lovers. After all, who would trust a cheater?? And he just, spirals? Like omg my wife doesn’t like me? My wife thinks I’m a bad person? But I’m not!! I give her money, I don’t make her have sex with me, I even let her pick her own dresses!! How could my wife not like me?? So now he’s trying his best to get Duchess to like him but she’s just, so done. Done with him, done with his affair partners, done with everything. Just let her have fun with her stocks and leave her alone

I genuinely think the moment dukedom 141 senses that Duchess doesn’t care about them, they suddenly want her to care about them, a real “I only like you when you don’t like me” thing

!!! I love this idea sm omggg thank you for this ask anon, I hope you enjoy!

Dukedom au masterlist

The fire crackled in the hearth of the study, casting shadows across the room. John stood behind his desk, his fingers gripping the edge as he stared down at the ledger in front of him. You sat across from him, your posture poised, your expression cool.

“This,” he said, his voice low, “isn’t just improper. It’s disrespectful. You’re my wife, Duchess. If you needed money, all you had to do was come to me.”

You tilted you head, the barest hint of a smile on you lips, though it lacked warmth. “Why would I do that?”

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes the longer he stared and listened to you. “Because I’m your husband. It’s my duty to provide for you.”

You replying laughter was sharp, humorless. “Provide? Is that what you call this arrangement? You married me because you needed someone to handle your duchy while you gallivanted with your…” you hesitated, lips pursing as you considered your next word. “…partners. And you expect me to trust you? To come to you with my needs?”

John blinked, taken aback by the venom in your tone- a tone you’ve never aimed at him before. “I’ve done nothing to make you distrust me, Duchess-”

You scoffed. “Haven’t you? You think I don’t notice the whispered conversations, the way I’m barred from certain parts of the house, the way your men watch me like I’m a threat? You think I don’t know that I’m an outsider in what was supposed to be my own home?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished.

“And it’s not just you,” you say, your voice rising. “Your butler, Kyle, your chef, Johnny, even your precious Duke Riley. They’re all loyal to you, John. Not to me. I don’t even need their loyalty, just some respect. Why would I put my trust in people who clearly see me as nothing more than an inconvenience?”

“They don’t think that.”

Your gaze bore into him, unflinching. He didn’t think you’d ever given him such a cold stare, and he didn’t like it. At all. “Don’t they? Tell me, John, when was the last time any of them looked at me as anything other than someone they have to put up with? When was the last time any of them looked at me as more than just an obligation? When was the last time you did?”

Silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the distant ticking of the clock and the crackling embers in the hearth.

John’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’ve treated you with nothing but respect,” he said, his voice tight. “I’ve never forced you to-”

“To share your bed?” You interrupted, your tone icy. “How magnanimous of you. Truly, I’m blessed to have such a kind and generous husband.”

Your sarcasm stung more than he cared to admit.

“I give you freedom,” he argued, grasping at any straws. Your words rang true, but John still found it hard to accept. “You’ve wanted for nothing since our marriage. You have everything you could possibly need.”

“Everything,” you repeated, your tone mocking. “Except trust. Except companionship. Except a reason to believe that any of this-“ you gestured vaguely at the room around them, at the duchy, at your marriage. “- is real.”

Your words hung in the air, cutting deeper than any blade.

Over the next few days, John found himself haunted by you words. You didn’t trust him. You didn’t trust any of them. And, worst of all, you didn’t like him.

At dinners, you were distant, answering questions with clipped politeness but offering very little else, conversations ending curtly. When you weren’t working on your secretive ledgers or taking solitary walks through the estate, you spent your evenings reading in your chambers, the door firmly shut against him and his men.

Kyle noticed the change immediately, of course, something squirming in his chest unhappily. “She’s colder than a January frost,” he sighed one evening, setting a decanter of brandy on John’s desk.

Price sighed right back at him. “Not exactly helping, Kyle.”

“I’m just saying, she’s got every reason to be,” Kyle continued, unbothered by John. “She’s a stranger in her own home. You can’t expect her to warm up to us when none of us have given her a reason to. We’ve mucked up.”

John scowled, downing a glass of brandy in one go. “She’s my wife. She should trust me.”

“Trust isn’t something you’re owed, John,” Kyle said, his voice softer now. “It’s something you earn and you and I both know none of us has given her any reason to earn it.”

Kyle was right, of course. But-

John’s attempts of mending the trust between the two of you were clumsy at best.

He tried joining you during your walks, only to be met with polite indifference.

“Shouldn’t you be with your men, Your Grace?” You asked one time, your tone as sharp as the winter air.

“They’ll manage without me.” he replied, though your pointed look made it clear you truly thought otherwise.

At dinner, he attempted conversations, asking about your day and your interests. You answered with politeness, but your gaze rarely lifted from your plate. Even Johnny’s attempts to brighten the atmosphere with your favorite dishes were met with little more than a murmured “thank you.”

Simon, ever observant, pulled him aside after one particularly stilted dinner where it got so awkward you didn’t finish your meal or had dessert before you left. “You’re trying too hard, John.” he said, his voice low. “You are just stifling her.”

“What am I supposed to do, Simon?” John snapped at last. “She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust any of us.”

Simon’s expression didn’t waver. Ever since he’d learnt of that conversation you’d had with John, what you’d said and thought about them all, Simon has been thinking it over his mind again and again. “…Then stop treating her like a problem to solve. Start treating her like a person. We failed her once, can’t fail her a second time.”

And so, one evening, John found you in the study, the room dimly lit by the glow of a single lamp. You were hunched over a ledger, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“Duchess…” he breathed out. “Do you need help?” The question comes out tentative.

You glanced up, your expression unreadable beyond the tiredness he could see clinging to you. “I’m fine.”

Still, John lingered in the doorway, unsure of his next move. “I wanted to apologize,” he said at last, no longer beating around the bush. He was done.

Your quill stilled, and you looked up at him, your eyes wary.

“For what I said,” John continued anyways, stepping into the room. “And for how I’ve treated you. You were right. About everything.”

At last, your gaze softened, but you didn’t speak, letting him continue.

“I never wanted this to be such a… cold arrangement for you,” he said, voice faltering. “I didn’t realize how much I’d… neglected you. I am truly sorry, Duchess.”

“… what brought about this sudden realization?”

John hesitated, and then he sighed. “I… I want you to trust me. To trust us.”

You laugh was bitter and cutting, just as it had heen on that day. “Trust you? Trust the men who keep me at arm’s length, who whisper behind my back, who make it clear every day that I’m an outsider? Forgive me if I’m not so easily swayed, Your Grace.”

Your words struck him like a blow, but he held his ground. “Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice earnest. “Let me earn it, my Duchess.”

You studied him for a long moment before finally speaking. “… We’ll see.”

And for the first time, John felt a good flicker of hope.

[chilschuck]

beach day headcanons please (any characters you’d like)!!! we were deprived of the typical anime fanservice imo

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhh my gosh anon i was literally SO SO HAPPY to get this ask!!! decided to stick with the usual charas you guys enjoy, plus some falin!!! hope this turned out okay and thank you so much for having me write it for you!!! <333

— DUNMESHI BEACH DAY HCS.

꒰ charas: ꒱ laios, chilchuck, falin, & mickbell.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + fluff with gn!reader.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.4k

✦ hope this turned out okay!! it was such a cute idea and so much fun that if anyone has requests for more charas, i’d be more than happy to do it!! <33

— LAIOS:

✦ We know that he doesn’t do well in hot weather, so you can imagine he’d be sporting only swimsuit trunks and flip flops for sure.

✦ Definitely enjoys being in the ocean, especially to try and cool off. You can imagine he’d be really interested in knowing more about what’s in the water around him, and probably points things out to you that he finds interesting.

✦ Be prepared for him to burn really fast, so make sure he gets plenty of sunscreen!! It’s always cute to see him walk up to you and ask for help, in which you gladly oblige. You help get those spots he can’t reach, and he does appreciate just how thorough you are.

✦ You’ll probably end up splashing him, which he’ll return in kind. Be careful what you start, because you’ll end up drenched by the end of it!

✦ A picnic on the beach with him is definitely something that happens while you’re there. Laios is so excited to share a meal with you in such a beautiful setting, and finds himself giving you that goofy grin at just how happy he is. He makes sure to pull all the stops to make this enjoyable for you, even preparing your favorite snacks.

✦ Definitely goes home with a few shells or shark teeth, if he found any. Laios thinks they’re too cool not to pick up and examine, running over to you and showing you what he found in the sand.

“You won’t believe what I found!” Laios calls out to you, jogging over to where you sat on your towel. His hands cradled something, and as he stretched his arms out to show you, a smile grew on your lips.

In his hands was an almost perfect conch shell, something he held with pride and excitement. His smile matching yours, he said your name softly. “Do you think if you put it up to your ear, you’d hear the ocean like those stories?”

You shrugged your shoulders, not able to hold back the giggle at his glee. “Only one way to find out, right? Just make sure there’s nothing still living in it.”

Laios still keeps that shell in a safe place, wanting to remember the day you spent together.

— CHILCHUCK:

✦ This man is definitely showing up in a Hawaiian dad shirt and cargo shorts. The first few buttons are undone, and he has a pair of sandals on that he insists he only saves for days like this.

✦ Chilchuck plans on staying at the spot you claimed with towels and an umbrella, a drink in hand. He’s definitely enjoying the sight of you in a swimsuit and the breeze ruffling your hair, but he’d never admit that.

✦ You try to pull him towards the water, but you only manage to get his feet wet. Chil tells you this is as far as he’ll go, but that disappointed pout on your face makes his heart race a bit. Ok, fine… Maybe he’ll go up to his knees for you…

✦ Probably spends most of his time drinking and relaxing, a hand behind his head and alcohol in the other. Very dad-like of him, you muse, which causes his face to heat up and grumbles to leave him.

✦ Ends up falling asleep, the sound of the waves and the secluded shade from the sun causing his eyes to flutter shut. You can’t help but laugh a little, returning from your time in the water to study his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up…

✦ If you do somehow manage to get him fully in the water, be prepared for him to get targeted by the tide. Maybe you even suggest getting him a float, which he gives you that blank stare in reply.

“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” You say as he finds himself in the middle of a tube float, eyes narrowed towards you.

“This makes me feel like a kid.” Chilchuck complains, yet you see him grip onto it tighter as an incoming wave makes an appearance.

You pull it over to you, the inflatable bumping into your stomach as you give him that teasing grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me while we’re out here, huh?”

The half-foot groans, debating on whether or not he’d make it if he tried to swim back to shore right now.

— FALIN:

✦ Wears a light t-shirt and shorts, opting to be comfy! She also has a hat she wears to help keep the sun out of her eyes. If she did plan on swimming, I like to imagine she’d have a swim shirt and a one piece swimsuit!

✦ Like her brother, she was excited to see all the shells and creatures at the beach, bringing you things she found fascinating. You might even find her entranced with a sand dollar and stating how pretty it is.

✦ Walks into the water hand in hand with you, but also really enjoys walking along the sand near the shore. As the sun sets, she intertwines her fingers with yours, leading you along and watching the pinks and blues in the sky reflect on the waves.

✦ Also definitely goes on a picnic with you, the beach making her cheeks even more rosy than usual. You can’t help but tell her how cute she looks in her outfit, her hair loosely blowing in the breeze. Falin would give you a sweet smile, the same one you fell in love with.

✦ Don’t be surprised if she leads you back to the water after you make sure she’s not getting burnt, insisting that she wants to enjoy how cool the waves feel. You’re more than happy to walk out a little deeper with her, noticing how she still keeps your hand in her own.

“It’s so nice out here…” You heard her mutter, a content smile dimpling her cheeks. The sunset left a sweet gradient in her hair, something that made you unable to look away.

“It really is. Too bad it’s getting dark,” you reply, a little disappointed that the day is already over. Falin squeezed your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Maybe we should stay and watch the stars come out.” Her voice was so gentle, causing you to give her a grin of your own.

“Let’s stay a little longer.”

— MICKBELL:

✦ Like the official art we have of him swimming with Kuro, he’s definitely sporting a pair of swim trunks and flip flops, with his hair in his signature ponytail.

✦ He and Kuro are so excited to swim, and drag you along to the water as soon as you get there. Of course, Mick is either clinging to you or to Kuro when in the waves, not seeking to really swim on his own.

✦ You definitely enjoy watching them swim and play around more than you’d like to admit, especially with Mick hiding his face and complaining when Kuro decides to shake all the water out of his coat.

✦ Mick really likes finding shells he thinks look neat, and showing them off to you and Kuro proudly. Maybe you even find yourself building a sand castle, with him and his buddy watching closely and moving to help you. He’s in charge of decorating it, while you’re in charge of building it! Kuro helps dig up some of the sand to use.

✦ The three of you end up getting a sweet treat, cooling off in the shade and enjoying the time spent together. Knowing Mickbell, he’s going to lay his head in your lap as he rests after so much activity, looking up at you with that cheeky grin he usually has.

“I could get used to this!” Mickbell sighs, nuzzling into your lap as he makes himself comfortable. Kuro is watching the waves, sitting beside you as the sun begins to fade from the horizon.

“I would’ve thought you’d be ready to go home a lot sooner.” You teased him, brushing his messy bangs out of his face. Scoffing, he made sure you saw as he rolled his eyes.

“If I didn’t have you and Kuro, maybe… But this is something we’ll have to do again. Right, Kuro?” The Kobold nodded, causing a warm grin to spread on your face. He was certainly right about that.

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite sh- are you sure you want to listen to this, Si?” You giggled, shutting your book in favour of leaning your cheek against your forearm, tilting your head back far enough to catch Simon’s eye behind you. “I could always read whatever you’ve started, wouldn’t bother me.”

“Not the deal, lovie.” He answers, scooching further up the bed to where you’re laying on your stomach, head just as the edge of the bed so that your arms can comfortably hold the book at eye level. “S’your turn after all. You read me whatever you like.”

It’s true, it is your turn tonight. You forget how long ago this started, though you remember how the idea came about, Simon complaining about his back one evening while the two of you were laying on the couch together, each reading a book, quietly enjoying the others company. He was home for only a few days that time, and you’d insisted that he spend at least a full 24 hours doing nothing but resting and relaxing, a feat easier said than done with that man.

“Why don’t you let me rub your back?” You’d suggested, setting your book down.

“No love, you don’t have to be doin’ that,” he’d shaken his head, though you could see he was doing so reluctantly. His back really was hurting him something fierce. “Besides, I’m at the good part. Don’ wanna put this down just yet.” He’d gestured towards the thick novel in his hands, some war book, of course. His idea of relaxing.

“Oh come on,” you’d insisted, wanting to do this for him. You had tugged the blanket off your lap, coming to stand next to the couch, watching him raise a brow at you. “I can totally massage your back while you read, best of both worlds. Go on, flip over on your stomach.”

“Usually I’m the one tellin’ you tha- hey!” He had obliged you, turning over onto until he’s laying on his front, trying to hid the wince of discomfort that came with the movement. You’d swatted at his ass following his little comment, but your soft hands were already coming to slip under his shirt, skimming along both smooth and scarred skin alike. “But you were enjoyin’ your book too, love.” He tried to protest again, though his eyes were already rolling to the back of his head at the feeling of your touch, loving fingers squeezing at his strong, sore muscles.

“Why don’t you read out loud to me?” You’d suggested to him.

“Not sick o’ my voice yet?”

“Mm, never.” You came to straddle his behind, planting a knee on either side of him, leaning closer to whisper to him. “Favourite sound in the world actually.”

Simon was grateful you couldn’t see his face at this moment, as he was certain he’d gone beet red.

“Well, you let me know when you change your mind.” He grumbled, opening his book back up, clearing his throat and picking up where’d last left off. Three chapters later, your barely noticed how sore your hands were in comparison to how full your heart was, listening to Simon’s voice go from begrudgingly reading the passages to you, his tone slowly gaining enthusiasm as he became lost in the story once more, smiling to himself whenever he’d hear a small noise come from you in reaction to his reading, a gasp of surprise of a hum of agreement.

He’d gone to bed that night and slept better than he had in a long time, back feeling like a dream, and woke up the next day, asking if he could return the favour. Soon, the evening pass time of one of you massaging the other’s back while they read aloud whatever book they’re currently reading, became one of your favourite, most cherished memories with Simon, the tender moment so pure, knowing he looked forward to these small moments as much as you did.

The two of you had gone through so many genres in the last few months, you’d lost track, every type of book being brought off the shelf. Though you didn’t always share the same tastes in books, you could still enjoy the sound of your lover reading something that they love to you. Simon was always a good sport about your picks in particular, but tonight you couldn’t help but question whether he really would want to sit through your pick of the week.

“I’m not even sure if it would be better or worse to have you watch the movie first.” You say, your words nearly coming out in a moan at the end when his strong hands reach a tender spot in your back.

“Jus’ read me the book, cheeky girl, before I try an’ get more o’ them noises out o’ ya.” He decides for you, giving your ass a quick squeeze before returning to his diligent task of rubbing your back.

You decide you’ll listen to the Lieutenant this one time, opening up your book and starting again.

Who knows, maybe Simon will like vampires.

[cherrybomb107]

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: forgiveness, or the way it’s often presented, is harmful. That’s one more gripe I have with season two. The way it frames “forgiveness”(the idea that you are obligated to forgive someone lest you be “just as bad as they are” is problematic.)

Because for one, having Jinx apologize for killing Caitlyn’s mom and vow to stop the “cycle of violence” doesn’t make any sense. One, that’s just not something Jinx would ever say. Two, the idea that Jinx killing some Councilors is anywhere near the same thing as Caitlyn becoming a dictator is laughable at best, and insulting to my intelligence at worst. Three, Caitlyn never apologizes or faces any meaningful consequences for her actions! Losing an eye was nothing! She should’ve lost a hand at least and we should’ve seen her reflect on her actions and pledge to do better for Zaun!!! Not just fuck off and ride off into the sunset after everything she did! And lastly, the “cycle of violence” literally isn’t a cycle, it’s just one city oppressing the other for centuries and the other city deciding to fight back! This “cycle” doesn’t begin and end with Jinx and her attack on the Council, so framing it like Jinx is the one who has to take sole responsibility for fixing everything is nonsense.

“But Arcane was never about heroes and villains, everything is morally gray!” You sound dumb. This is obviously a story with overt themes of oppression and revolution. I’m not here to critique morality, I’m here to critique its framing. Why are certain characters “justified” in their heinous actions but others don’t get that luxury? That’s what I’m talking about. Moving on, the problem with “forgiveness” implies that it’s necessary, and the way people conflate forgiveness with letting someone have access to you after everything they did is the problem. You don’t have to forgive someone if you don’t want to. That doesn’t make you “bitter” nor does it mean you’re “holding a grudge”. There is a difference between forgiving someone and just removing yourself from the situation and becoming detached, imo. That’s what should’ve been done with Caitlyn and Jinx. No one in Zaun should’ve been shown dying for their oppressors because “teamwork” nor should Sevika have been shoved on the Council to push this idea of “unity”. Why would Sevika, a Zaunite who has never had and never will have any love for Piltover, be forced to cozy up with the Council? Why is the onus on her, as an oppressed person, to make nice with her oppressors? Why does the institution of Piltover, and people like Caitlyn who uphold that institution and wreak havoc on the underclass of Zaun, never have to answer for their crimes?

Answer: Because they(the writers) want to convince us that Jinx and Caitlyn, and by extension, Piltover and Zaun are “just as bad” as each other, and that both sides need to work together to heal. Only problem with that is, the Piltover/Zaun conflict was not presented that way in season one. I’m sure the writers want us to think it’s one city vs another, when that’s not the case at all. In reality, it’s one city OVER the other, and now they’re trying to convince us “both sides are bad”. While it’s true that there ARE problems on both sides, the problems in Zaun literally wouldn’t be problems if Piltover wasn’t an oppressive institution. Why were the chem barons able to amass power? Because the systems Piltover set up left Zaun behind and allowed power hungry people like Finn, Margo, Chross, and Smeech seize their opportunities for control. Why is there so much crime in Zaun? Again, because of Piltover. The class disparity that Piltover set up means the economic divide between the two cities is a chasm that grows wider and wider every day. People are forced to steal to eat. They join gangs out of necessity, not because they have to. Why did Jinx kill all those enforcers?

That shouldn’t be the question. The real question is: Why does “Jinx”(as in, the persona Powder adopted to feel strong) even exist? Answer, once again, because of Piltover! Jinx is an oppressed person with severe mental health and self esteem issues that have been exacerbated as a result of the crooked system of Piltover. She saw her parents get killed by enforcers(militarized police force that carries out the will of the powers that be and is responsible for harassing, brutalizing, and over policing Zaun) right in front of her before she was even in the double digits. She was then adopted by Vander, but she had to struggle her whole life. Zaun doesn’t even have air to BREATHE unless Piltover decides they deserve it. And thanks to Caitlyn, we get to see how even THAT gets weaponized when Zaun steps out of line. So if they don’t have access to clean air, it’s safe to say that they also don’t have access to the same quality food, water, shelter, clothing, economic, educational, or medical services that Piltovans do, just by virtue of living in Zaun. So you take a severely mentally ill little girl, systematically oppress her, and then clutch your pearls when she becomes violent and lashes out? Label her a “psycho” and a “monster” for killing cops, gang members, and politicians while Caitlyn gets a happily ever after after everything she did? I thought “both sides” were “just as bad”. So why is Jinx the only one who meaningfully suffers? Why does Zaun as a whole always have to pay the price?

Lack of commitment. “Terrorist” is a loaded word that’s been weaponized against marginalized people for ages now. It’s another one to add to the list: angry, crazy, mad, belligerent, monster, savage, animal, etc. All these dehumanizing words are leveled at folks who get tired of taking shit lying down. I’ve never thought that Jinx was a “monster” for killing cops, Councilors, or politicians. Never will. But the show clearly WANTS me to, as well as simultaneously wanting to see Caitlyn’s actions a certain way. I’ve already made a post about why comparing or trying to equalize Caitlyn’s actions and Jinx’s actions is disingenuous and intellectually dishonest imo. Think of it like a bully vs bullied type of thing. There’s this kid and his asshole friends who gets to bully you for weeks, months, or even years and face no repercussions. Then, one day you get fed up, and start fighting back. Whether that be with words, feet, fists, or what have you. If you go down, you go down swinging. When the dust settles, BOTH of y’all are getting disciplined(detention, suspended, expelled, not allowed to go on trips, etc) for “fighting”. And there’s a very good chance one of you will be punished much more harshly than the other. Even though you started fighting back. BACK being the operative word. Every single time this kid pushed, hit, kicked, punched, started rumors about, and isolated you, nothing was done. The one time you start fighting BACK, both of y’all get in trouble because the school has a “zero tolerance policy”.

But you know that’s not true. It can’t be. You’ve been telling the teachers, guidance counselors, and vice principal about what’s been going on. But nothing was done about it. Or if it was, you were the one who was told to move seats. Or switch to a different classroom. Or just ignore them. Or “maybe they’re lashing out cause they have problems going on at home.” It was nothing but excuses when you were getting pushed around. Now when you fight back it’s a problem. Now take that metaphor and apply it to Caitlyn and Jinx. Caitlyn is like that fat rich asshole with parents on the PTA who make hefty donations to the school. Jinx is like the scrawny little nobody who has no one to stick up for them. Piltover is the school system. Caitlyn’s privilege isolated her from any meaningful consequences, while Jinx’s lack of privilege guaranteed she’d face hefty consequences, much more than Caitlyn ever would.

Jinx has lost: her birth parents as a result of state sanctioned violence, her adoptive brothers, her sister, her best friend, her adoptive father, Silco, her sister again, her adoptive father again, her new friend, her sense of self, her life(possibly) and she has to deal with being an oppressed person who struggles with mental health issues on top of all that. Caitlyn has lost: her mother, and her eye. That’s it. She’s never forced to give anything up. She never had to reckon with the reality of what it means to be not just a Piltie, but a Kiramman, and a dictator on top of that. We never see her be genuinely remorseful about her horrible actions in Zaun. Nor does she try to apologize to the people in Zaun or meaningfully make amends. No, Caitlyn gets to live in that big shiny house of hers with her father and girlfriend and the months she spent co-signing martial law will never be addressed. To bring it back to the bully vs bullied comparison, this means that Jinx would have been expelled for fighting back, while Caitlyn gets ISS(in school suspension). “Both sides are bad” yeah well you clearly believe one side is worse! And it’s not the correct one!

Piltover is an oppressive, classist, ableist, and brutal institution. Caitlyn was the head of this institution for months after she experienced a fraction of what Zaunites have experienced for centuries. At the end of the day, Caitlyn’s actions were brushed aside and she got her happy ending, though it wasn’t deserved whatsoever. Meanwhile Jinx, Sevika, Ekko, Isha, countless other Zaunites, and Zaun as a whole did nothing but suffer their whole lives and now they have nothing to show for it. “Both sides are bad” but the bad that the institution is responsible for is never called out, while the bad that the oppressed people did is blown out of proportion and they are severely punished for it.

And yes, I know I’m talking about a mainstream television show with white/non black people in the writers room. I knew I was never gonna get the pro revolution story I wanted to see, and I’ve made peace with that. But, if they wanted to have a “both sides” narrative so bad, then they should’ve stuck with it. BOTH SIDES should have equally suffered and had to reckon with their wrongdoings. The responsibility for doing so shouldn’t have solely been on the shoulders of the minority group. THAT’S the crux of the issue. I was always gonna think “forgiveness” was the coward’s way out. But they never show Piltover apologizing. Only Zaun does, and that’s not right.

[brairslair]

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You��re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

[elstoy]

um your writing is so fucking good i’m nervous 🏃🏾‍♀️

okay i think ellie would wear her strap out in public and one day reader would decide to give her a handy like- half joking but ellie actually LOVES it. like her eyes cloud over instantly and she’s spreading her legs for more

if you could do something with that i’d be forever in your debt

if you can’t i still thank you sm for your time 🙏🏾🫶🏾

she’d be kinda shy at first but seeing your palm on her shaft makes her heart skip a beat lord!!!!!

this would probably occur in one of the first time she has ever worn her cock out in public so she’s extra nervous. what absolutely doesn’t help her nerves, is how it keeps rubbing against her crotch and how you keep damn eyeing her little bulge!!!

she’d be blushy and so awkward, frantic whispers like “babe stop gawking at it…” “jeez people are gonna see, stop looking at my dick!!!!” “seriously, babe, m’never doing this again” as if it doesn’t turn her on to see your gaze drop down and your all knowing smile every two secs. rolls eyes.

it all starts when you tell her you gotta pee in the middle of lunch at an all american diner. usually, you’d go alone, but you’re begging her to come with you this time. she obliges out of innocence but has no idea what you plan to do in there. honestly, neither did you, but you just had to… touch it, for some reason. so you fondle her everywhere, squeezing her butt and making her squirm, then pressing your palm atop the bulge. she winces like you just touched her cunt in the middle of a public speech.

“baaaabe” she complains but that reddish blush gives her in. you keep toying with it above her baggy jeans, pressing it and releasing it and running your fingertips on its length. you’re giggling, she did too at first, but now ellie’s fully panting.

“i know you’re playing but this isn’t…”

you unbutton her jeans. you’re no longer giggling too.

“a game”, she breathes.

if it’s extra thick, so your palm doesn’t close all the way it makes her size kink go brrr. because as much as you love her hands she loves yours a billion times more. especially if they’re perfectly manicured, acrylics and all… you spit on your palm and smear it on her tip as u look at her like this “🥺” and her hips immediately buck like a middle schooler getting his first handy.

“wanna play with it” you murmur against her neck. her fine hairs rise, this has definitely unlocked… something.

you move your hand slow, up and down, not failing to keep eye contact with ellie for a second. her lids close, eyebrows furrow, lips forming a near pout. maybe she grew a phantom dick, or maybe it’s the pressure of the base against her clit, but she swears a pool of sweet sleek forms right below her slit.

“you’re so s-s-stupid… this isn’t funny… soooo, good” ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday!!!! More FMA!

He’s fucking tired.

In Xerxes, he’s Van Edris. In Xerxes, he’s the son of a former slave, having narrowly escaped being born into his father’s fate by virtue of him being awarded freedom by the time of his birth. In Xerxes, he’s an uncommon commodity, an alchemist with a skill that hasn’t been seen since his father fucked off to who knows where.

In Amestris, he’s Edward Elric. In Amestris, he’s the son of Trisha Elric who was born free and died free because while there are lots of different forms of freedom, in Amestris there’s one that everyone shares. In Amestris, he’s unknown and unremarkable and no one gives a fuck about what he does.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he says flatly.

This is what he gets for visiting his father’s country. It’s just fucking unfortunate that the really good alchemical texts are here.

He should have let Al (Van Altun, as they know him, even though the two of them having been using their Amestrian names almost their whole lives, regardless of what country they were in) do it. They’re not nearly as weird about him.

Pakor is alright, as far as kings go. He’s freed a lot of people, is poking at the laws of ownership that has governed his country for centuries to see if he can do anything about them without getting beheaded for it. He’s also known Ed since he was a barely able to walk, back when his father still made court appearances and brought the family along with him. Former slave against most talented alchemist in the country, and people tended to politely ignore the former. Hell, Ed’s been counting on the same thing since he was twelve.

Of course, now it’s coming back to bite him. People say he’s a genius, but if he was really smart he would have stayed far, far away from court. Like in Amestris, perhaps.

“You’re fluent in both languages,” Pakor says, coaxing.

“So are you,” he says accusingly. “We’re speaking Amestrian right now!”

Pakor sighs and switches to Xerxian. “You also speak Xingese and Drachman. You’re a difficult man to keep secrets from.”

“I’m also Amestrian!” he shouts. “And free, might I add! You can’t sell me off to slavery just to get some intel!”

“It’s not like we’ll brand you,” he says, affronted, and Ed is reminded that alright for a king is still pretty shitty. “We just need someone to do a little – double checking. To ensure the situation in Amestris is as it’s advertised.”

“You want to gift me to the Fuhrer to spy on him and you’re, what, just hoping he doesn’t notice that I understand everything and know everything and am, oh yeah, one of his citizens? I’ve been to Central before! With my luck, I’ll get recognized the first day here and then run out of Amestris! And, again, Amestris doesn’t have slaves! The leader of the country really can’t have one.”

Pakor sighs. “You’re very dramatic, Edris. It won’t be so bad. Here, I’ll say you’re my personal slave and that you’re on loan. It’ll be for cultural exchange purposes. He speaks Xingese, so you can communicate in that language without letting on you know Amestrian.”

Ed pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is a stupid fucking idea.”

“If you do this,” Pakor says, “I’ll give you the key to the royal library.”

Ed slowly lowers his hand, eyes narrowing. “I’ve been asking you to let me in there for years.”

“I figured I’d need to bargain it away eventually,” he says. “I was hoping you’d marry one of my daughters for it.” Having even light court obligations is bad enough, he’s in no way stupid enough to marry in. “You’re very difficult, you know. I’m your king. I shouldn’t have to bargain with you.”

“Tough shit,” Ed says, because Pakor may have known him for nearly twenty years, but that knowing goes both ways. Besides, he can’t piss him off because then he and Al will stop reparing all their shit bridges and infrastructure. “Fine. But if I lose my Amestrian citizenship over this, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Noted,” Pakor says brightly.

Uhg.

It doesn’t help that everything he’s heard about Fuhrer Mustang makes the man sound insufferable.

[froggibus]

Saw your post!! Any thoughts on what Junkrat, Mei, Venture, and Sombra might do if their respective s/o's wanted a prize from a claw machine? Who can actually do? What do they do if they can't?

Claw Machine - Junkrat, Mei, Sombra & Venture

Genre: fluff, little crack

Summary: how your s/o would win (or steal) you a prize from a claw machine

CW: sombra’s a jerk, established relationships, theft (in a funny silly goofy way), Ven gets stuck in a claw machine, none of these people are good at games sorry

thanks so much for giving me a cute fluffy req ^^ I really appreciate it. sometimes writing so much smut gets a little overwhelming so I am grateful for fun little ideas like this!! 💓 hope you’re having a great day lovely someone pls remind me in the morning to give this a proper banner

@kitsune-loves-fics wrote a beautiful continuation of Venture’s part! come check it out here 💓

Junkrat:

insists he’s the best at claw machine games

he is not.

however he will spend all day and all the money he has just so he could get you whatever prize you wanted

unrelated but Mako is probably crazy at claw games

keeps promising he’ll win it for you but progressively gets worse and worse at the game

eventually gets annoyed and starts shaking the machine

please walk away it’s so embarassing

if that doesn’t work he will literally break the glass and just grab the toy for you

gets down on his knee like a dork and hands it to you

“for you, little cricket”

grabs your hand and runs away giggling from security

you’re legally obligated to keep the toy forever or else he’ll get sad

Mei:

probably average at the claw game

she won’t try all day but if you really want it, she’ll give it at least ten tries

gets kind of confused when she can’t win and decides to apply some science to it

literally calculates a bunch of math based on how fast it moves, how far away it is, size of everything etc

the math still doesn’t help

some kid probably comes up and does it on the first try and she’s staring at them like ‘how’

is completely focused on this damn claw machine now just to get you a little plushy

please bring her a drink or something to boost her mood

when you walk away she’ll try to put her hand in the machine but her arms are too short :(

in the end she recruits snowball and together they manage to get you your little plushy ^^

however she feels so guilty about it after she has to confess to you

Sombra:

she will never let herself be defeated by ANY machine

she’ll probably tell you to win it for yourself and lean against the machine with a smirk while she watches you

you’ll pout at her and beg for her help but she wants to see how ‘dedicated’ you are first (whatever that means)

eventually she gives in (she can never resist you) and steps up to try the game

and immediately loses.

doesn’t even try again, she just hacks it and forces it to do whatever she wants

doesn’t just grab you one plushy, she practically cleans out the whole machine

“liv can we just leave? people are starting to stare?”

“just one more, cariño”

it will not be just one more, but how can you resist when she’s being so sweet?

Venture:

dork ass steps right up the minute you press your face on the glass and coo about how cute it is

“don’t worry babe, I got this”

(they really do not)

they will hyperfocus on it and play it for literal hours

they’re not even bad at it—they keep winning prizes, just not the one that you want

you could leave for ten minutes and come back and they’ll still be trying it

after maybe an hour of playing they get you to stand on the side and shake it for them

if that doesn’t work, they try to shove their arm up there but they’re so muscly they get stuck

you end up having to call the fire department to get them unstuck lol

and the owner of the place feels so bad (or maybe embarrassed) for you guys that they unlock the machine and just give you the toy

masterlist | overwatch masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 64]

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AO3 Link

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Tobias and Nia introduce Junie and Samir to the guild.

-

Samir stands strong in the wake of Nia’s enthusiasm. Her tail is a blur as she bombards the poor skiddo with questions that they struggle to answer with a simple yes or no.

“So that’s the mystery visitor?” Junie whispers, fluttering onto Tobias’ shoulder.

“Yeah. A Seeker we worked with in Fort Asra,” Tobias whispers back.

“You don’t seem as thrilled as Nia about them showing up here.”

Tobias’ mouth flattens as he tries to figure out his feelings on Samir’s sudden appearance.

On one hand, Tobias actually liked working with Samir. They’re competent at their job, and their personality isn’t insufferable like Andyn or some other Seekers he’s met over the years.

On the other hand, Tobias hasn’t forgotten that Nia offered Samir a place in the guild, and potentially on their team. Logically, Tobias shouldn’t be against the idea of more team members, but he still feels a little…territorial, maybe? Of his current team with Nia. He doesn’t want anything or anyone to intrude on the partnership they’ve built.

Then again, they’ve already got Junie and Fidel tagging along to the mountains, so what difference would one more Pokemon really make?

Tobias shakes his head. He’s getting ahead of himself.

“No, I like them,” Tobias admits. “Just…surprised to see them here so suddenly.”

Junie hums, but doesn’t push further.

Samir interrupts Nia’s chatter by holding up a hoof. Then they use their teeth to carefully pull a rolled-up tube of papers out of the side of their pack, holding the makeshift scroll out to her.

Nia blinks, then takes the offered papers and unrolls them to read. Tobias walks closer to read over her shoulder, giving Samir a cordial nod of greeting first.

He’s unsurprised to see that the first page is an official guild form. A transfer form, for Samir to join or create their own team here at the Lexym Guild.

Tobias’ stomach sinks. Looks like he was right. And he doesn’t really hate the idea—or at least he shouldn’t. Samir is just about the best option they could ask for when looking for a third teammate, but…

It’s just weird to think about having another official member on their team. It would change everything about their dynamic and how they run missions. No more Tobias and Nia. Instead, it would be Tobias, Nia, and Samir.

Tobias forces himself to continue reading with a neutral expression. The letter stipulates that Samir can officially leave the jurisdiction of their old guild and join the Lexym Guild as long as they get August’s approval. Which, judging by the leafy stamp at the bottom of the page beside August’s sloppy signature, they already did.

There’s a second sheet below the first, and Nia flips to it, only to find an additional request form to join Team Scarlet specifically. Samir’s signature sits at the bottom of the page, in even messier handwriting. There’s an empty space above it for Nia and Tobias’ signatures, if they approve.

As one, they all look up at Samir.

The skiddo is clearly nervous, as much as they try to hide it. They gesture again at the papers. Nia flips to the final page, which is covered in blunt, shaky Ordirune, likely penned by the tip of Samir’s hoof. It’s so messy it’s almost childlike, but it’s legible.

I WOULD LIKE TO REQUEST TO JOIN TEAM SCARLET OFFICIALLY. I BELIEVE WE WORK WELL TOGETHER AFTER OUR PARTNERSHIP IN FORT ASRA.

NO OBLIGATION IF YOU DO NOT AGREE. I CAN FIND ANOTHER TEAM.

THANK YOU.

SAMIR

The blunt yet formal language actually gets a snort from Tobias, despite his mixed feelings about the whole situation. He really does like Samir. He just…needs some time to think this over first.

“You really want to join our team?” Nia asks, dumbfounded. Then a frown creases her face. “You’re sure you’re all right leaving your old guild?”

Samir grimaces, then nods. Tobias remembers the words they scratched into the dirt during their stakeout in the desert, about the partner who’d abandoned them after their injury made them mute.

DIDN’T WANT ME

Their partner and the guild as a whole were probably happy to be rid of Samir, if the skiddo’s judgement is accurate.

Tobias swallows down a growl. Samir’s old partner and guild are idiots for shunning the skiddo so blatantly. Especially considering how capable they are as a Seeker, mute or not.

Samir must’ve come straight here after finishing their duties in Fort Asra and putting the transfer paperwork through. It feels…not quite desperate, but close enough for sympathy to well up in Tobias’ gut. He knows what it’s like to be disliked or—at best—pitied by those around you. He can imagine it’s even worse for something you can’t help, like losing your voice from an injury.

Still, Tobias is grateful that Nia looks at him before blurting out an answer, a question clear on her face. Tobias’ expression must look as uncertain as he feels, because she doesn’t even hesitate before turning back to Samir to say, “Could we talk it over on our own before giving you an answer, Samir?”

The skiddo nods, looking relieved that Tobias and Nia are going to consider the proposition at all. Then they turn to leave.

“Wait!” Nia says, reaching for them. “We need to talk before giving you an official answer, but you’re still our friend. You don’t need to leave. I-If you want to stay, that is.”

Tobias can agree with that, at least, and shrugs casually when Samir looks at him.

“Yeah! Come help us piece this monster of a bed together,” Junie says. “It’s craft time in here and boy are these two bad at it.”

“You could help if we’re so terrible,” Tobias grumbles, brushing the rookidee off his shoulder and moving back to the half-assembled bed frame.

“That peg is heavier than I am, Toby! What am I gonna do? Get squished? Not helpful. For your information, I am doing an excellent job at supervising.”

“You’re doing an excellent job at being even more annoying than usual.”

As they bicker, Nia leads a hesitant Samir over to their operation, pointing out what they’re doing: fitting wooden pieces together and building up the bed’s frame piece by piece. Once Samir has the gist, they jump in to help with a serious expression. They’re painfully earnest about it, too, as if this is a mission to prove their worth to the team as a whole.

Yeesh. It’s a bit intense, even for Tobias.

“Jeez, you’re a serious one, aintcha?” Junie asks, peering down at Samir from her “supervising position” atop one post of the bed frame. “It’s all right to lighten up a bit, y’know?”

Samir ignores the suggestion, shrugging uncomfortably

“Toby said your name’s Samir, right? I’m Junie!”

Samir offers a distracted nod in greeting.

Junie is quiet for a moment, tilting her head one way and then the other. “So…is the no-talking thing by choice, or..?”

Samir drops the wooden dowel they’d been delicately holding in their teeth. Nia stammers something unintelligible.

“They’re mute,” Tobias cuts in, pointedly casual. “Injury.”

“Ohh.” Junie nods. “’Kay! Just curious. Guess that means you don’t have vines to talk with, either.”

Tobias pauses in his own work, curious despite himself. Can skiddo learn vine whip?

Samir winces, then lifts their chin to tap at their throat. It takes Tobias a moment to understand what they’re saying.

“Your injury?” Tobias guesses.

Most grass types do have the base of their vines somewhere around their throat. If Samir’s injury was bad enough to damage their vocal cords, it’s possible that it messed with other parts of their body as well.

How did they even survive that kind of injury?

Samir nods, confirming Tobias’ guess. Then they focus back on their work with a steeliness that screams for Junie to stop talking about this.

So Junie, of course, keeps talking about it.

“Oh. Have you ever tried talking with like…morse code or something? Oh! Or whistles? Sometimes mail ‘mon use different chirps and stuff to communicate codes instead of talking. It’s super neat!���

Morse code? Tobias thinks Nia mentioned something similar during their stakeout in Asra. And the whistle idea isn’t actually a bad suggestion, either.

Samir’s stiff posture eases as they blink at Junie, surprised. Whether by her easy acceptance or her surprisingly thoughtful ideas, Tobias isn’t sure.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of whistling!” Nia says, pausing in her own work. “Can you whistle, Samir? Or, like, click your tongue?”

Samir hesitates, looking between the three of them. Then, quietly, they click their tongue against the roof of their mouth. Once, twice.

Nia beams. “You can!”

“Try to whistle,” Junie prompts.

Samir’s muzzle clearly isn’t made for it, but after a few tries, they do manage to get a weak whistle out between forceful gusts of air.

“Now we’re in business!” Junie cheers. “There’s gotta be some kind of Pokemon language set up for situations like this, right? I mean, some Pokemon don’t even have mouths and I can say from personal experience that sign language isn’t always an option.”

“I bet Avery or their dad would know!” Nia says, perking up at the chance to go to the archives and learn something new. “Would you be interested in that, Samir? Learning something like Morse code or whistle phrases so we could communicate a little easier?”

Samir, once again, looks blown away by the easy acceptance that Nia and Junie are offering. They swallow hard with suspiciously bright eyes, and nod.

“Great! How about we stop by the archives right away once we get this built?”

“If you get it built,” Junie corrects. “I’m down, though. I want the whole grand tour of this place!”

“Oh, right! Did anyone give you a tour of the guild yet, Samir?”

Samir makes a so-so motion with their hoof. So likely a surface-level tour that covered the necessities, but nothing in-depth. August probably just assigned a random low-level Seeker to do the honors.

“We’ll show you around,” Tobias decides, grunting as he finally gets two wooden posts wedged together properly. He steps back to give it a look, nodding in satisfaction.

It thankfully doesn’t take much longer to fit the bed frame together, and then Tobias, Nia, and Samir haul the surprisingly heavy mattress atop it. When that’s done, Nia grabs the blankets they’d pulled from storage during their previous trip to the guild, and throws them on top. The whole setup creates a strange but cozy-looking nest elevated a foot off the ground. Just high enough for Tobias to comfortably sit on. It’s surprisingly large, too, easily big enough for both Nia and Tobias to curl up together. Samir could probably even squeeze in if they wanted to, and Junie could definitely find a spot.

While Tobias isn’t sure how to feel about that mental picture, he can’t deny the bed itself looks incredibly cozy. He’s willing to give it a shot, after how soft it felt earlier.

“I am pumped to go to sleep tonight,” Junie says. “Good job, crew.”

“Same!” Nia says, sitting on the bed and looking pleased about its bounce. “Tobias, Samir, are you two going to try it too?”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Tobias says.

Samir looks surprised to be included, giving a noncommittal shrug and a shuffle of their hooves in an almost shy gesture.

With that task complete, they finally get to show Junie and Samir around the guild properly, starting on the bottom floor where the mission boards are stationed. They briefly explain the network of tunnels surrounding them, taking a few steps inside one so the newcomers can get the full effect. Junie is expectedly awed by the glowing crystals growing from the walls and floor and ceiling, but even Samir seems impressed by their quiet beauty.

Their group stops by the nursery floor, too, both to show it to Junie and Samir and so Tobias can check in on the shinx cubs. He isn’t at all surprised to find that Asher has captivated the entire group of children, the zorua shifting between each child’s species with ease and delighting in their excited reactions. It feels strangely dreamlike when Asher turns into a fourth shinx cub at the others’ behest, and Tobias leans over to bet Nia that they’ll use that ability to torment their older brother at least once. Nia laughs and doesn’t take that bet.

Fidel is there too, the zoroark watching his son entertain the other children with a relieved smile as he sits next to Arlo. The drampa is keeping a watchful eye on the kids as usual, but he’s taking the opportunity to rest while Asher keeps them busy. The two older ‘mon wave at Tobias, Nia, Junie and Samir when they notice them lingering in the doorway, but otherwise don’t move to approach.

Next, Tobias and Nia show off the cafeteria, Nia giggling as she regales them with their last mission on kitchen duty. After that, they show them the item dispensary floor and the training floor, too, which clearly catches Samir’s interest. Nia waves enthusiastically to Val when she spots the medicham across the room, supervising a mock battle between a treecko and a venonat. Val gives a slight upturn of her lips and a nod in return.

They do end up stopping by the archives as well, and Nia introduces the two newcomers to the archivists, Alistair the gardevoir and Tawny the ribombee. Tawny and Junie hit it off right away, tiny chatterboxes that they are, and Alistair is clearly intrigued by their quest for a non-verbal language that Samir could use to communicate easier.

The gardevoir disappears into the shelves with Nia and Samir in tow, and Tobias—despite his better judgement—stays behind to listen to Junie and Tawny ramble about…nesting on top of the library shelves?

Maybe he should’ve went with the others.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long for Alistair to return with Samir and Nia. The gardevoir has a book in his hands that’s dusty from disuse, and while he sounds apologetic that he can’t help much personally, he does comment that Avery actually knows a few rudimentary phrases of the whistle-based language contained within.

Samir still looks shocked by the easy, enthusiastic help that Nia and the others are offering, and Tobias feels a jab of anger towards the skiddo’s old guild. Seekers are supposed to help, regardless of the problem, and that includes their own members. Tobias should tell August to look into Samir’s old guild when this whole “world-saving” business is done. Something isn’t right over there, and he knows August would take his concerns seriously.

Once they’re done checking out the book, Tobias smothers his ire and leads their group farther up the tree, past the administrative floor and the Seeker quarters until they finally reach the medical wing. Fen is busy looking over a pair of Pokemon when they pass by, but Maggie immediately abandons what she’s mixing up at the counter as soon as she notices their arrival.

“Welcome home!” The meganium says, happily returning the hugs Tobias and Nia press into her flowery mane. Then she looks over their heads and smiles. “And with two new faces! Would this happen to be…Junie? And Samir?”

“Are you a psychic type or did Toby just complain about me that much?” Junie asks, fluttering forward to land on Nia’s shoulder. Samir just looks surprised to be recognized at all.

Maggie stifles a laugh, a vine coming up over her mouth. “I assure you he only complained his usual amount, and Nia had all good things to say. It’s lovely to meet you, dear.”

“You too!” Junie chirps. “You have excellent vibes, ma’am. No idea how you’ve dealt with Toby’s nonsense for so many years.”

Maggie does laugh aloud this time, and Tobias rolls his eyes.

Nia waves Samir forward, and they hesitantly step closer.

“And you must be Samir,” Maggie says with a gentler smile. “It’s lovely to meet you as well, dear. Thank you for taking such good care of these two in Fort Asra.”

Samir ducks their head into a shy nod.

“Dude, stop being so adorable,” Junie teases. “I wanna be the new favorite child.”

Samir hunches even more into themself. Tobias has to admit it’s kind of hilarious, after how stoic and sure of themself they were in Fort Asra. Clearly the new location and overwhelming friendliness is an environment they’re much less confident in.

Tobias and Nia quickly catch Maggie up on their trip to Will’s settlement, and it’s only when Samir can’t seem to hide a look of shock that Tobias realizes something: Samir wasn’t aware of the whole world-saving business they’d been assigned by Giratina. Samir didn’t even know that Nia was human.

All things considered, Tobias thinks the skiddo is taking it rather well. Their brow is furrowed and their gaze is distant as they try to process everything, but they aren’t sprinting from the room or visibly upset. Still, Nia and Maggie both seem concerned.

“Samir..?” Nia prompts.

Samir opens their mouth to speak before closing it again with a frustrated grunt. They shake their head and wave Nia off, as if to assure her that they’re fine.

“Gotta say,” Junie laughs, clearly enjoying the whole situation. “You’re handling this whole, ‘The world is ending and an eldritch god assigned us to save it’ thing better than I probably would’ve all at once. Oh! And Nia being human. I’m human too, if it matters.”

Samir once again loses their composure for a moment, eyes bulging as they look at Junie. Then they whip their head back to Nia and Tobias as if to ask if there’s anything else earth-shattering they should know about.

Nia holds up her paws. “That’s it! I promise!”

“For now, at least,” Tobias adds.

Samir’s gaze goes distant again, as if already beholding the horrors that lie ahead.

“Sure you still want to join this team?” Junie jokes.

“Yeahhh…we probably should’ve warned you about, uh, all of that first,” Nia says, cringing. “Um. You’re welcome to back out if it’s too much? We’d understand.”

Maggie looks more surprised by the idea of Samir joining their team than by anything else in this conversation. She gives Tobias a probing, concerned look.

He shrugs, mouthing, Still deciding.

Maggie’s expression softens, and she mouths back, Tell me if you need to talk.

Tobias nods, relieved that she knows him so well. He doesn’t know if he’ll take her up on the offer, but it’s always good to be reminded that it’s an option.

Samir, on the other hand, is clearly still riding the waves of all the information just dumped on them. But after a minute of silent thought, they finally shake their head, tap the ground twice, and nod. Their expression is determined.

“You want to help?” Tobias guesses.

Samir nods again.

Nia brightens. “Then we’re happy to have you along! Though it is unfortunate that we’re heading somewhere so cold right off the bat, since you’re a grass type. Will you be okay up in the mountains?”

“You can pick up a cloak from Vera’s winter storage before we go,” Tobias says. “But Nia’s right. It’ll still be rough on you and Junie in particular thanks to your typings.”

Samir doesn’t seem overly concerned by the terrain they’ll be facing. If anything, they simply look deep in thought, as if strategizing what they’ll need to combat the harsh environment. Tobias can’t help admiring that, even if it’s what he expected of the skiddo after Fort Asra. Samir doesn’t balk from a challenge, even if that challenge may decide the fate of the world.

Their group spends a bit more time with Maggie before heading back downstairs to the Seeker quarters. Nia wants to see if Xander’s team has returned yet since it’s nearing late afternoon.

Instead of Xander, it’s Andyn who Tobias runs right into while rounding a corner of the hallway.

Oh, perfect. The gods are laughing at Tobias in their sleep.

Andyn backsteps. “Oh, sorry, I—"

She cuts herself off as she realizes who she bumped into, and her expression darkens. The deerling stalks past Tobias and the others without a word.

“Wait, Andyn—” Nia says.

“We’re busy, Nia.”

Nia falls silent, wilting. Tobias is tempted to snarl something after Andyn, but he’s distracted by Ezra and Jaz, who are hurrying after their team leader from the direction of their room. The two ‘mon pause once they see Tobias, Nia and their tagalongs.

“Oh, hey!” Ezra says, grinning with his sharp sneasel teeth. “Didn’t know you were back already!”

“Is she still in a mood?” Tobias asks, crossing his arms. “It’s been like a week.”

Jaz sighs. “No, she’s been okay. Probably just wasn’t happy to see you again so soon, Tobias.”

“She can really hold a grudge,” Ezra adds cheerfully. Then his eyes land on Samir and Junie. “Ooh, new faces! You two friends with Nia and Tobias?”

“We are!” Junie chirps, puffing out her chest with pride. “Name’s Junie. That’s Samir. I’m guessing that ray of sunshine was your teammate?”

Jaz gives her a regretful smile. “I promise she‘s not normally like that. She’s just trying to untangle some…unpleasant emotions that Tobias brought out last week.”

“Doesn’t mean she has to ignore Nia to do that,” Tobias grumbles.

“Nah, but she probably finds it easier to push you both away rather than trying to sidestep one half of a team,” Ezra says. “After all, you’re pretty much joined at the hip nowadays. She’ll figure it out eventually, Nia. Try not to take it personally.”

“That’s stupid,” Junie scoffs. “Why shouldn’t Nia take it personally? We shouldn’t just have to deal with miss priss acting like a brat because Toby made her think about something she didn’t want to hear.”

Jaz winces. The stufful’s usual composure falters with guilt. Nia looks like she’s about to protest, but Jaz cuts her off. “No no, she’s right. We…probably enable Andyn more than we should.”

“She’s never gonna stop being a brat if you don’t put your foot down,” Tobias agrees.

Ezra and Jaz exchange a look.

“You’re right,” Ezra says, chuckling. “But it’s just easier to ride it out sometimes, y’know? Andyn can be a lot, but she’s still our best friend. It can be hard standing up to her when she’s upset.”

Samir nods immediately in understanding, and once again Tobias wants to meet the skiddo’s former partner. Just to talk. And maybe punch a little.

“Ez! Jaz! C’mon!”

Andyn’s voice rings out from the hall behind them, and Tobias huffs. Not even doubling back to grab her teammates? Coward.

“Sorry, gotta go,” Ezra says. “But we need to catch up when this all blows over!”

“Stay safe,” Jaz adds.

And then the two Pokemon are gone, hurrying after Andyn. There’s a moment of quiet.

“Well, that doesn’t seem like a very healthy team dynamic,” Junie chirps from Nia’s shoulder.

Nia makes a sound in her throat like she wants to agree, but doesn’t want to badmouth her friend. “Andyn’s dealing with a lot of pressure from her parents. I’m sure she’ll figure it out soon!”

Tobias doesn’t argue, knowing a futile battle when he sees one. Instead, he pushes past the encounter to lead their group to Team Shellshock’s quarters. Much as Tobias didn’t get along with Xander in the past, at least he can count on the luxio to actually act like an adult.

When they get there, the team’s door is halfway open, and inside Tobias spots Xander removing items from Team Shellshock’s satchel, Avery logging something onto their team badges, and Felix flopping down into a nest with a relieved sigh. Looks like they just got back from a long day.

Xander’s ears twitch before Tobias can knock, and he looks up with a warm smile. “Hey. Almost didn’t recognize you two with an extra set of hooves along for the ride. Come on in.”

They do so, Nia going straight for a hug that Xander returns with a loud purr.

Kry, munching on a yache berry against the far wall, locks onto the new faces of the group immediately. “Who are you two?”

Junie perks up, fluttering forward to perch on a windowsill by the fraxure. “I’m Junie! Mail ‘mon in training.”

Kry loses interest immediately. She looks at Samir instead.

Samir straightens up, glancing at Nia in an almost panicked fashion.

“Oh!” Nia pulls out of the hug to gesture towards the skiddo. “And this is Samir. They just transferred here from another guild.”

“You battle?” Kry asks.

Samir blinks, but nods.

Kry bares her teeth in a grin. “Consider me your next opponent, then. I wanna see your battle technique after being trained by a different set of mentors.”

“That’s her way of making new friends,” Felix whisper-yells to Samir.

Samir looks uncomfortable being the center of attention, but they hesitantly nod.

“So what’s your deal?” Junie asks. “You’re only friends with people you can fight?”

Kry shrugs. “You don’t impress me much if you don’t.”

Oh. Oh, that was the wrong thing to say to Junie.

The rookidee narrows her eyes. Then, quick as a flash, she lunges, grabs the last of Kry’s berry—almost half her size—and flies out the open door.

Kry blinks, hand still curled around an invisible berry.

Felix barks a laugh, and Nia’s giggles follow shortly after. Xander and Avery look just as stunned as Kry.

Tobias grins. Okay, he can see the humor in Junie’s antics when they aren’t being directed at him.

“Hey!” Kry yells, bolting out of the room. “I am going to murder you, you ball of feathers!"

Samir looks genuinely concerned by the threat, but Felix waves them off. “She won’t actually hurt her. She knows she’d get a scolding for that.”

Tobias snorts. “You should be more worried about Kry, honestly. Junie’s a menace.”

Felix’s fluffy ears perk, the wartortle clearly delighted by that tidbit of information. “Really. Well, that’s a fun development. I’m guessing this is the same Junie you all met back in Ghatha?”

“Yeah!” Nia says. “And Samir is the skiddo we met in Fort Asra.”

“Sounds like you’ve been as busy as ever,” Avery says. The kirlia folds into a sit with unnatural grace, patting the ground for Nia and the others to join them. “Feel like sharing?”

“Ooh, yeah! You two always get into the craziest binds,” Felix says, scooting closer. “What’ve you been up to this time?”

Tobias and Nia exchange a look, then start on the (abridged) version of their trip to the human settlement. While they don’t go into detail on why exactly they visited Kaleido Bay, Nia does make sure to thank Team Shellshock for their gift of an all power-up orb.

Who knows if they would’ve been able to defeat Dismas without it.

Xander just sighs at that, giving them a tired smile. “Sometimes I don’t know who’s pushing me towards gray fur faster—you two or the cubs. I’m glad we could help, though.”

“Now I feel like we need to supply you more often to ensure your safety,” Avery says, only half-teasing. “A weekly care package, perhaps?”

“That won’t be necessary!” Nia laughs, waving the kirlia off. “Um. Probably not, at least.”

Tobias snorts. “With our track record? Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

Even Samir has a long-suffering expression of agreement on their face, and they’ve only been with Tobias and Nia for one life-threatening scenario.

“I guess it makes sense you’d run into trouble so often when you travel as much as you two do,” Felix says. “Actually, do you mind me asking why you travel so much? I’ve been wondering. Most teams stay closer to home, especially this early in your career.”

Nia opens her mouth to answer, then hesitates. She glances at Samir, recently roped into the whole “world-saving” business, then gives Tobias an unsure, questioning look. He shrugs in response. Nia is the one with the personal quest from Giratina, and these are Nia’s friends before his. She gets to decide who she clues into the reality of their situation. He’s honestly kind of surprised she hasn’t done so already.

After an awkward moment of silence, Nia says, “It’s…actually kind of complicated. I didn’t want to tell you guys if I didn’t have to worry you, but it might be good for you to know.”

The quiet flap of wings interrupts before Nia can go any further. Junie glides causally into the room, perching on Nia’s shoulder with berry juice staining the feathers around her beak. Smugness radiates from her like a visible thing.

“Hey.”

Felix raises his brows, clearly impressed. “Hey. I see you survived Kry’s rampage?”

Junie laughs. “She’s so clumsy! I thought she’d give me a better chase, honestly. She’s even easier to rile up than Toby.”

Right on cue, Kry comes crashing into the room, breathing hard with rage in her eyes. She locks onto Junie. “You.”

“No murdering, Kry,” Felix drawls.

Kry glares at the wartortle, but then looks at Xander as if to verify.

The luxio sighs. “No murder, Kry.”

The fraxure growls. “Meet me in the arena, you little puff of air.”

Junie puts on a show of considering the idea, then smirks. “Nah.”

For a moment, Kry looks like she’s actually going to lunge. Junie snuggles closer to Nia’s neck, apparently safe in the knowledge that somebody will stop any actual assault.

“Sit down and breathe, Kry,” Avery says, somehow managing to sound sympathetic rather than patronizing.

Kry stares at the kirlia for a moment, then huffs and stalks over to the alcove in the wall that Tobias has seen her use before. She flops into it, tail tip flicking with irritation.

“Now, what were you saying, Nia?” Avery prompts.

Nia glances at Samir again, as if asking whether they’re glad Nia told them the truth about everything. Samir seems surprised to be part of this decision, but gives a nod of encouragement.

Nia takes a deep breath. “Well…it’s about the world, actually. Everything that’s been going wrong with it. Mystery dungeons, natural disasters, the legendaries, evolution. How everything is breaking down. We’re sort of…looking into how to stop it?”

Team Shellshock clearly isn’t expecting this to be the reason for Tobias and Nia’s constant traveling and danger-prone adventures. Their expressions shift from surprise to solemn interest. Even Kry turns over with a frown on her face.

So once again, Tobias and Nia explain everything. About Giratina, about the weakening dimensional border, and about their mission to find Xerneas so she can stop everything from falling apart. Tobias’ throat is dry by time they’re finished.

“Samir just learned about all of this, too,” Nia adds, glancing at the skiddo. “They’re going to come with us to the mountains to help look for Yveltal.”

Samir nods.

At that, Avery surfaces from their pool of deep thought. Surprisingly, their first question isn’t directed at Nia or Tobias, but Samir. “Apologies for being so blunt, Samir, but are you mute?”

Samir’s jaw tightens, but they nod.

“Oh! Yeah! We stopped by the archives earlier and talked to your dad!” Nia says, perking up. “We were hoping to figure out an easier way for Samir to communicate with us, so he gave us a book about whistle-based language and told us that you already know some phrases. Would you mind helping us get started on the basics while we’re still here at the guild?”

Avery mirrors Nia’s excitement. “Oh, of course not! I’m afraid I don’t know a lot, but I was curious a few years ago and dove into researching the language for a week or two. Xander figured it might be helpful to know a few non-spoken codes for missions, so we actually all know some short commands.”

Avery gives Xander a soft look, as if thankful for his support. In response, the luxio looks away with pinned ears and an embarrassed little smile. Ugh. They’re so gross together.

“We’ll only be here for a couple of days, though,” Nia says. “So we won’t have a lot of time to practice before then.”

“Oh!” Felix straightens up. “You could come with us tomorrow morning for a joint mission! If you don’t have plans already.”

“That would give us a bit of time to practice before you leave,” Avery murmurs.

Tobias blinks at them. “A joint mission?”

Even Nia looks surprised by the proposal after Andyn’s reluctance to team up last week. Xander’s team is even B-rank, a full two ranks above Team Scarlet.

“As long as you don’t slow us down, I don’t care,” Kry grumbles from her little cave.

“It’d be fun to see you two in action,” Felix says. “Especially since Nia apparently takes down steelixes in her spare time.”

Nia smiles bashfully, and Tobias rolls his eyes. He knows the wartortle flirts with everything that moves (and probably things that don’t, if a particularly shiny cascoon caught his eye), but somehow it’s even more irritating when directed at Nia.

“We were planning to go after an outlaw who was spotted nearby,” Avery says. “But he is at a high C-rank level.”

“Oh,” Nia says, the jump in difficulty clearly intimidating her. She glances at Tobias.

“Feel free to say no,” Xander stresses. “We can always pick a lower-level mission. It’s difficult enough just working with a new team member.”

Tobias fights down the urge to bristle at that comment. He has to tell himself that Xander is just being considerate of their lower rank, and maybe a bit overprotective of Nia. It’s a reasonable concern, after all, not an insult to their skills.

However, what Tobias thinks but doesn’t say is that a high C-rank mission would only be two ranks above the tasks they’re supposed to be taking at this point. Tobias is pretty sure they’ve gotten so strong so quickly in part because they keep running into (and barely surviving) situations far above their pay grade.

Tobias looks at Nia. She still seems unsure, but with her anything that isn’t an outright no usually just means she’s nervous.

Tobias’ own knee-jerk reaction is to say no to joining the other team at all, but…well, the mission with Team Evergreen was fine, other than Andyn being insufferable. And Tobias actually learned a lot while sparring with Team Shellshock last week. It would be a good opportunity for Samir to get a crash-course in whistle communication with Avery, too.

Finally, Tobias looks to Samir. The skiddo looks back, seemingly fine with whatever they decide.

“We can handle it,” Tobias decides. “What kind of outlaw are we talking about here?”

“A victreebel,” Avery answers. “He was seen yesterday near the mystery dungeon that opened up last week after the earthquake.”

“And since he’s a grass type, it’d be extra nice to have a fire ‘mon on this mission,” Felix teases, leaning over to nudge Tobias with a friendly elbow.

Oh. That sentiment makes Tobias feel…weird. Lexym Pokemon never want a fire type around.

Tobias isn’t really sure how to respond, so he just shrugs and looks down to fiddle with his scarf.

“Well, I’ll leave the whole ‘fighting bad guys’ thing to you, then,” Junie says, unbothered. “This girl ain’t built for battle. I think I’ll explore the guild some more while you’re gone. See if Asher’s rallied the kids into an army yet.”

“Coward,” Kry growls.

“Meathead,” Junie retorts.

Kry snarls. Junie bats her eyes.

“Anyways,” Nia says, clapping to get everyone’s attention. “Do you know anything about the dungeon, since he’s probably hiding in there?”

Team Shellshock goes into debriefing mode, explaining that the dungeon has taken on a rocky jungle atmosphere, with lots of grass, bug and ground types. The two teams solidify their plan to meet up in the psychic wing at dawn for an easy teleportation to the edge of the dungeon.

Afterwards, Tobias, Nia, Junie and Samir head out, seeing as evening is setting in and fatigue is visibly weighing on Team Shellshock’s shoulders. Nia suggests they grab food from the cafeteria to take back to Team Scarlet’s room for supper, then relax for the rest of the night.

They do so, settling down in their room with steaming bowls balanced atop wooden trays. Supper tonight is a hearty stew to combat the cooling fall weather, and they gobble down their bowls with a side of fresh bread and cheese.

During the meal, Nia wonders whether Samir needs their own scarf or badge before tomorrow’s mission, which makes Tobias pause. The skiddo is still wearing the same scarf they had in Fort Asra: a dark green bandana that blends into the leafy mane around their neck and covers up the scar hidden underneath.

Huh. Another similarity between them.

“Can you even get those if you aren’t officially part of a team yet?” Junie asks with a tilt of her head. “I mean, since you’re still deciding and all…”

Speaking of which—they need to talk that over, too. Which is decidedly harder to do when Samir and Junie are right there. Despite the easy atmosphere of the meal, Tobias feels a fresh ache of longing for the simplicity of when it was just him and Nia.

“They should be able to give you a scarf at least,” Tobias hedges. “It’d be nice to be able to match when we’re outside the Haven, in case we get separated.”

Samir nods, something like relief in their expression. Although Tobias has a feeling it’s more that they’re ready to leave their old scarf—and the memories attached to it—behind, rather than them being afraid of getting separated from the team.

Junie looks between Samir and Tobias. “Would we get that on the item floor? If that’s where we can grab cloaks and snowshoes and stuff, too, then me and Samir can go get those together!”

Tobias blinks, surprised by her initiative. “That…could work, yeah.”

Samir seems reluctant to be partnered off alone with someone they aren’t familiar with, but the skiddo nods before Nia can act on their discomfort. Good. If Samir and Junie take care of grabbing those items, then Tobias and Nia will have a few minutes alone to talk about Samir’s potential placement on the team.

Tobias nods his approval. “You remember which floor it is? Rainer will probably be there on his evening shift. He’s a politoed. Talk to him and he can get you a scarf and directions to Vera to pick up some snow gear.”

Junie salutes with a wing. “Aye-aye, cap’n! C’mon, Samir!”

Junie doesn’t wait for a response, flapping into the air and flying out of the room. Samir scrambles to their feet, nearly knocking over their empty bowl. They look wide-eyed between the door and Nia and Tobias.

Tobias raises a brow, tilting his head as if to say, “Go on.”

Samir hesitates for a moment longer before hurrying after Junie.

Nia giggles. “They’re quite the pair.”

Tobias snorts. “Junie certainly talks enough for the both of them.”

Then, he turns to Nia, expression falling serious. For a moment, Nia seems confused by the sudden shift in atmosphere. But then she glances at the door, and realization dawns. She sets her own empty bowl aside and turns to face him as well.

“You want to talk about Samir, I’m guessing.”

Tobias nods. “Junie gave us the chance. Might as well take it.”

“All right. Well…what do you think about them joining our team? You can tell me if you don’t want them to. This feels like a big decision, so I think it should be unanimous.”

Tobias releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’s relieved that Nia’s aware of the significance of this decision and seemingly willing to take a No without complaint. “Samir…wouldn’t be the worst choice for a partner. Not by a long shot.”

“But?”

“But…” Tobias hesitates, feeling a flush come to his face. How does he phrase this without it sounding pathetic? “It would be really…different. From how it’s been so far.”

Nia makes an encouraging sound in her throat.

“I know we end up with other ‘mon more often than not,” Tobias says, slowly picking his words. “And I’ve gotten used to Junie being around so much, but…”

“But it’d still be different,” Nia summarizes. “Between us. Junie will go home eventually. Samir wouldn’t.”

Tobias nods. “It’s just…a different dynamic. You and I are partners. I lead a lot of the time, but you know how to lead if you need to. And I don’t have to think about you just following an order without thought because I’m your ‘leader.’ Samir, though…”

Nia tilts her head thoughtfully. “They have kind of been defaulting to whatever we want them to do ever since they showed up here.”

“I think they’re just desperate to make a good impression, after their last guild experience,” Tobias mutters.

“I…don’t think you’re wrong. But I think they’d put their foot down if they really thought it was important to do so. They did that in Asra, right? They tried to stop you from going down into the mines.”

“True,” Tobias admits. “And we did work well together. They do a good job balancing out some of our impulsiveness.”

Nia’s mouth twitches with a smile. “We do have a tendency to run headfirst into dangerous situations. They could help us slow down and think things through.”

A beat of silence. Tobias stares at Nia’s open expression.

“You want Samir to join. Don’t you?”

Nia shrugs. “I do. I think it’d be good for all of us, and I like them. But I don’t want them to join if you don’t want them to. We’re partners, and this is a big decision. It’s either two yeses or it’s a no.”

Tobias feels some of the tension bleed from his shoulders. Nia said the same thing not five minutes ago, but it reassures him to hear her say it again, and to hear it said so easily.

His opinion matters here.

“If we’re going to have another teammate, Samir is about the best I could ask for,” Tobias admits. “It’s just…hard, knowing things will be different without knowing exactly how they’ll be different.”

“Different is scary,” Nia agrees. She holds out a paw.

Hardly hesitating, Tobias takes it. She squeezes his hand.

“My vote is yes, but I don’t want to rush you,” Nia says. “Take your time. Samir is patient. They know this is a big decision.”

“But it’s not fair to string them along, either,” Tobias mumbles. Especially not after their last terrible partner.

“You’re not stringing them along. You just aren’t sure. It’s okay to take your time making a decision.”

Tobias takes a breath and nods. Nia waits with him in silence, her thumb stroking the back of his hand in a soothing gesture.

Tobias is no closer to a decision when Nia speaks again. “How about a trial period?”

“A trial period?”

“Yeah! We have Samir join us for now, but kind of like…on probation? They can help us while we save the world, and then if everything’s still good afterwards and we both agree on it, they can join officially!”

That…doesn’t sound too terrible. Tobias knows that it’s just another way of pushing the decision off until later, but he’s too relieved by the suggestion to care. Somehow, knowing that it isn’t quite permanent helps. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do that. Let’s run it by them and if they’re okay with that, then I am too.”

Nia beams. “Great! Thanks, Tobias.”

“For what?”

“For giving this a shot,” Nia clarifies. “I know it’s hard for you to open up to people.”

The casual familiarity of that remark makes something like embarrassment balloon in Tobias’ chest. He gives Nia’s paw one last squeeze before pulling away.

Then his eyes land on their satchel, where he’d gently set it against the wall earlier today.

Oh. This might be the last time they’re alone for a while. And Tobias does not want Junie here for an exchange that’s already likely to be mortifying.

“Close your eyes,” Tobias says, getting up and moving to rummage through their bag.

“What?”

“Trust me. I’ve got a surprise.”

And there it is, wrapped up and carefully stashed away at the bottom of the bag. Tobias pulls the paper-wrapped object out and holds it behind his back, careful with the heft of it. He feels a flutter of nervous excitement in his gut.

Nia’s head is turned his way, a confused smile on her face, but her eyes are closed. “A surprise?”

Tobias makes a quiet noise of agreement, sitting down in front of her again. “Hold out your paws.”

Nia does so. “What’s the occasion?”

Tobias pauses, something like “Thanks for being my partner” running through his head before he shoves away the mushy thought.

“No reason,” he grunts. “Just wanted to. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Tobias sets the gift in her paws.

Nia is clearly surprised by the weight of it. Her eyes open, and she blinks down at the package before tentatively starting to unwrap it.

Tobias holds his breath, heart pounding.

As soon as the first sheen of blue shows through, Nia gasps. She speeds up as she unwraps the rest of it, until she can cradle the glass in her paws like it’s the greatest treasure in the universe.

“The sculpture from Kaleido Bay?” Nia murmurs. She looks up to stare at Tobias.

“Uh. Yeah. You seemed like you really liked it? And it’s not like I’m doing anything important with my personal funds, so—"

Nia’s lip wobbles as tears fill her eyes.

For a heartbeat, Tobias panics. She said she liked it, right? Did he misunderstand? He’s already calculating how quickly he can rip it from her paws and chuck it out the window.

But then Nia’s gently setting the statue aside and yanking him into a hug.

Oh.

Slowly, Tobias returns the gesture, flushing. He always forgets how soft Nia’s fur is, cool against his warmer skin. “Does that mean you like it?”

“I love it! You didn’t have to do that.”

Tobias huffs a laugh. There are obvious tears in her voice. “I mean, I can always send it back?”

“Don’t you dare,” Nia mumbles, sniffling into his shoulder. “This is the first decoration we even have for this place.”

Tobias laughs, and Nia pulls away, keeping her paws on his arms as she smiles at him, soft and sweet. “Thank you, Tobias. Really. You’re the best.”

Tobias can’t handle her looking at him like that, so he coughs and reaches to pick up the statue, pretending to check it for cracks. Luckily, it looks like it survived the journey perfectly intact, delicate flame-likes wisps arcing up without flaw.

Nia’s smile turns confused as she takes it back from him. “Wait, but you didn’t buy it while we were at the stand. When did you—" Nia cuts herself off. “When you went back to get Rico’s name?!”

Tobias laughs. “Yeah, his name’s not Rico.”

Nia looks somewhere between scandalized and delighted, and settles on breaking into laughter. It’s unfortunate that she has to stifle it a moment later to spare her ribs, but even through the pain the giant smile never leaves her face. Her ruby eyes linger on the statue in her paws, soft and admiring.

“Thank you,” she whispers again.

Tobias feels the heat return to his face. He shrugs.

He basks in a quiet wash of pride for the next few minutes, as Nia babbles on about where to display the glass piece. Eventually, she settles on the bookcase set against the wall, still woefully empty. The statue is placed in the center of the top shelf, an eye-catching blue against the warm wood. It glistens in the dying sunset.

Shortly after, Junie and Samir make their return. Junie flutters into the room unhindered, but Samir follows with a bulging sack slung over their shoulders.

“We’re back!”

“Took you a while,” Tobias notes.

Junie laughs as she settles onto the bed frame. “Samir took forever finding the perfect cloak for themself and snowshoes for you guys. The measurements couldn’t be off by even a centimeter.”

Samir gives Junie a dry look as they sling the sack to the ground, tugging it open so Tobias and Nia can see the wooden snowshoes and snowcloak stuffed inside. Tobias knows that expression well, though. Junie is growing on Samir, much as they might not want to admit it.

The skiddo also has a scarlet red scarf tied around their neck, replacing their old green one. Something about seeing their team’s color on a new ‘mon does make Tobias feel proud, like Samir joining permanently might not be so scary. This could be their third team member one day. They are their third team member, at least for now.

Tobias tears his gaze away to examine Samir’s haul. Nia is already oohing and ahhing over the construction of the little snowshoes brought back for them. They are impressive, the outer ring made with some kind of hardwood, and the inner “webbing” a crisscross of reinforced string shot. A similar string shot strap, thicker and wider, is attached to the side of the shoes to secure them onto their feet. They’re well-made, as far as Tobias can tell, but that’s not a surprise with Vera in charge of accessories at the guild. The leavanny is a professional.

While they’re busy examining their new gear, Junie spots Nia’s gift. She flies closer to get a better look at it.

“Whoa, where’d this come from?”

Nia eagerly bounds over to show it off. “Tobias got it for me in Kaleido Bay! He surprised me with it while you guys were gone. There was this little glassblowing shop there and—"

Tobias is expecting the smug, irritating look Junie sends him as Nia rambles on. As the riolu picks up the statue to show to Samir, Junie flutters on top of the bed post closest to Tobias, and leans over to whisper, “Nice work, Romeo. That was actually pretty sweet.”

Tobias doesn’t know what a ‘Romeo’ is, but he catches the implication and bats her off the post so she bounces off the nest—the bed—with a shriek of laughter.

Thankfully, Nia can’t gush about the gift forever, though Tobias keeps catching her giving it happy glances even after putting it back. Each time, something warm blossoms in his chest all over again, pleased with his impulsive decision even if his personal funds are nearly empty.

Worth it.

As they all settle in for the night, Nia is the first to approach the lingering question in the air.

“Oh! Samir, we talked while you two were out. About you joining the team.”

Samir stops in the middle of unpacking their own bag, and despite the way they clearly try to appear casual, Tobias can’t help thinking they look like they’re bracing themself for a blow.

“If you’re all right with it, we’d like to do a sort of, um…trial run?” Nia says. “We loved working with you in Fort Asra! But we just want to make sure we’re a good fit before deciding for sure. We were thinking we’d see how the trip to Silenfroar and the whole world-saving business shakes out, then talk. Are you all right with that?”

Samir, thankfully, just looks relieved by her answer, as if they were expecting an outright no. They give her a nod, then glance at Tobias.

“It’s a big decision, adding a new team member,” Tobias says. “But you’re definitely not the worst choice. You’re very bearable compared to some ‘mon.”

Tobias gives Junie a pointed look, and she sticks her tongue out at him in return.

“Yeah!” Nia says. “Welcome to the team, Samir. Patent pending, I guess. The scarf looks good on you!”

Samir straightens up, giving her a determined nod. As if to say they won’t regret giving Samir a chance.

From there, the rest of the evening is peaceful. Tobias digs out his guitar and rests against the side of their new bed as he picks idly at chords, trying not to feel self-conscious when both Junie and Samir watch with open curiosity.

Junie doesn’t comment, though, instead following Nia’s lead and sprawling across their plush scarlet rug with the book they’d picked up earlier in the archive. Together, the three of them flip through the pages of clicks and whistles, and start practicing basic phrases.

Yes and No are easy when you can see Samir nod or shake their head, but it’s good to have verbal cues ready, too, in case they’re in a situation where they can’t actually see the skiddo. The book’s translation for No is a simple high note whistle that dips into a low note, and Yes is the same but with the two notes reversed. Junie picks it up immediately, while Nia and Samir struggle with molding their mouths into the right shapes.

Samir seems a little frustrated and embarrassed after their first few attempts, but Nia and Junie laugh it off, the little rookidee making fun of Nia for spitting everywhere until even Samir is fighting off a smile.

Tobias listens as he plucks at his guitar, committing the whistles to memory and silently practicing the mouth shapes alongside them.

That’s how they pass the evening until the first yawn floats across the room. Junie takes that as her cue to call it a night and dives into their new nest, using her beak to burrow underneath the blankets and pop out on the other side with her little face peeking out.

Nia follows shortly after, pulling Tobias with her. It takes a bit of convincing, but even Samir is dragged into the bed, and altogether it’s just large enough to fit the four of them. Nia and Tobias curl up close side-by-side, with Junie nesting in the crook of Nia’s neck. Samir shyly scoots to the edge of the bed, leaving a bit of space between them and the rest of the team, but they seem comfortable enough, if not a bit awkward.

As soon as Tobias lies down, he gets it. This is the comfiest thing he’s ever laid on in his life.

He’s never going to be able to go back to a regular nest after this, is he?

“Oh my God, this is the best thing ever,” Junie mumbles, sounding half-asleep already. “I’m gonna marry Hazel.”

Nia barks a laugh. “She’s, like, a grandma, Junie! And already married!”

“Then grandpa better watch his back or I’m gonna steal his woman.”

Nia snickers as Tobias snorts. Samir seems unsure how to respond, but Tobias can see them slowly relaxing in their little corner of the bed.

Junie asks Nia to tell her more about Hazel and her family, so Nia whispers about the raichu living in Afon’s Cap. Tobias listens with half-lidded eyes and takes in the darkness of the room, lit only by his tail flame and the moonlight filtering through the window’s leaf curtain. All around him, he’s surrounded by softness and warmth.

Tobias drifts off quicker than he has in a long, long time.

[spacerockfloater]

Every time Team Black stans talk about Rhaenyra’s bastards and the Dragon Twins as if they’re blessings upon this earth, an angel loses its wings.

Like, okay. They’re children, I’m excusing all of them up to a certain point. But they’re some of the most vicious, aggressive, cowardly, snotty brats we’ve ever seen in this franchise and pretending that they’re not is so foul.

Lucerys is a hypocritical twat that bullied the boy he grew up with because he didn’t have a dragon, but then he’s totally okay hanging out with Rhaena who doesn’t have one either. And then he pulls out a knife and blinds Aemond for no fucking reason, after his gang attacked him first, and faces zero consequences for his actions. He eventually grows up to become an even worse person by literally laughing in his cousin’s face, whom he disabled. And then he tries to boss lord Borros around by telling him that he’s obligated to ally with Rhaenyra even if there isn’t anything in him for it.

Jacaerys is also very two faced for the exact same reasons as Lucerys, with the addition of having anger management issues. Like, remember how he beats the living shit out of his little brother when they’re training at the beach, kicks him to the ground and grabs him by the throat because he is upset their uncles are better warriors than them? That’s the good future king you’re all talking about? He is already obsessed with the idea of becoming king, to the point that his own mother has to remind him that she’s actually alive and well and he would have to wait a good fucking while before his dreams come true. That’s actually so sick on his behalf. Not to mention that he very likely married Sara Snow, betraying his fiancée, in order to gain the Starks’ help, which is very dishonourable. At least Lucerys told Borros he’s betrothed and refused to marry one of his daughters to get his support, I’ll give him that.

Baela is a deranged evil girl who was ready to throw hands on sight, too. And have we forgotten that she becomes a drunkard and whoremonger who spends her money gambling in the rat pits, the places where children fight one another in King’s Landing, once she grows up, or is it wrong only when Aegon II does it?

Rhaena is an aggressive coward who seems more preoccupied with the acquisition of a dragon than her mother’s death. She didn’t have the guts to go and claim Vhagar, but she feels powerful enough to confront Aemond when she has three people backing her up.

Finally, even without taking all of their problematic traits into account, these people are so severely uninteresting and unimpressive. Lucerys does not convince Borros to side with his mother and drops dead like a fly. Joffrey gets shrugged off by Syrax and plummets to his demise. Jacaerys is immediately killed during his embarrassing attempt to fight the Triarchy, not to mention that he was the reason his youngest half siblings were captured and nearly killed because he had the brilliant idea of sending them away. Baela loses the only dragon fight she was ever part of to Aegon II and Sunfyre who were very injured by a previous fight already! And Rhaena is just… there. Doing nothing. Never avenging her husband’s death, eventually marrying a Hightower. Yikes.

Are there much more ill behaved children in ASOIAF? Yeah, for sure, but we actually acknowledge that children like Aegon II and Joffrey Baratheon are pieces of shit. But if we could like, stop glorifying these four mediocre and borderline malicious kids solely because some of you feel the need to ride the dicks of everyone who is part of Rhaenyra’s crew, that would be great. They might be children, but they’re children with shady, putting it mildly, personalities, wielding new-clear weapons of mass destruction who actively participated in a war, especially Jacaerys and Baela. They sure were victims of the world they were raised in, but they were aggressors as well. And like, this is the ASOIAF universe, nearly all of our protagonists are children. We can’t constantly apply modern day morals and coddle them forever because “OMG, they are just babies!”, unless we are ready to apply the same logic on the Targtowers, who were basically the same age as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

[dxxdhood]

wait for me

pairing: waiter!dick grayson x gn!reader

summary: after getting stood up on a date, you notice the waiter who's been patiently watching you all evening.

tags: smut (18+), sub!dick grayson, dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, humiliation, name-calling, slapping, handjob

wc: 1.9k

a/n: hey, hope you guys like this one! if anyone has any requests/thoughts, please send them in. i want to write more, but i really struggle with ideas haha

It’s not that bad, all things considered. You must have the intuition of a god for choosing a restaurant that allows free refills, because if you’ve had to pay for drinks this whole night, you’d have gone completely broke. Still, you can’t help feeling pretty shitty. There’s no way your date is running two hours late.

The place is a casual diner, serving a host of soups, sandwiches, and pastries that had you salivating earlier on in the night, but right now, you’re not exactly in the mood to browse the menu again. The diner doesn’t close until twelve, but it’s been almost deserted for the past hour, probably because it’s a weeknight and the average person has plenty better to do than wait on a person who’s made it obvious they’re not coming

Just as you’re about to get up and leave – for real this time – the waiter comes around to refill your drink. It’s a quarter till twelve, and at this point you know he probably wants to start cleaning up, but still he tops up your drink without saying anything. It’s a kindness, but a part of you just wishes he would kick you out already.

He’s been the only waiter on staff since you got here – even the manager knew this place would be empty – and you’re so glad he was, because if you ever want to show your face here again, all you have to do is avoid one person. It’s a shame that you feel too embarrassed to interact with him, though. He’s been nothing but polite, only asking if you were ready to order at the very beginning before quickly picking up on the fact that you were waiting on your date– the one that wasn’t coming.

You take a sip from your full drink, but you can’t stomach any more. Standing up, you try to avoid eye contact with the waiter, who’s relaxing behind the counter, as you step towards the exit. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head, like you’ve skipped a step or forgotten an important task. It dawns on you as you’re facing the exit: you forgot to tip him!

Well, you didn’t order a meal and you paid for your drink up front, so you’re not exactly sure if you were meant to tip him. Hell, you didn’t know if this restaurant accepted tips at all. But this waiter just watched you sit through quiet torture and the second-hand embarrassment was probably like stepping on glass.

“Hey,” you turn around. “Do I… Should I tip you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering that, too,” he says lightly. He purses his lips and stares to the side, “I’ve turned it over a few times in my head, and decided that nope! You don’t need to tip me. You have no lawful or moral obligation, I resolve you.”

You feel your eyes getting watery, so you focus on the dust in the crease between the wall and the floor. Him saying that only makes you feel worse, but it’d be too awkward to hand him the money now. It feels like there should be something you could do, some way you could thank him for keeping you company.

“How many people are staffed right now?” you ask.

He looks caught off guard, like he expected the interaction to end there. “Oh, just me and one other guy in the kitchen.”

“Let me help you close.”

His eyes widen, and you try to meet his gaze. He’s puzzled, probably trying to figure out what you get out of helping him. Eventually, he shrugs his shoulders and gets up from behind the counter.

“Yeah, why not,” he says with a fond smirk, gesturing to you to follow him. 

He leads you to the supply closet, where the two of you grab cleaning spray, rags, and a broom. While you work on wiping down the tables and chairs, he counts the cash in the register.

“So, you always offer to clean up after yourself?” he starts, too focused on tallying up the earnings to notice you staring at him. The waiter, “Dick” according to his name tag, is very cute. You were trying to ignore him the best you could for the sake of your would-be date, but honestly, fuck that guy. Your waiter with the dashing smile and ruffled hair blows him out of the water, anyway.

“Just feeling extra polite tonight. You always accept help from customers?”

“You won’t believe this, but nobody’s offered,” he says with a snort. “Still, probably not the smartest idea on my part.”

You think about his words for a second as you wipe down a particularly stubborn stain. “I wouldn’t be able to rob you if I wanted to.”

It’s true, he looked well-muscled, even if on the leaner side. His eyes are playful as he narrows them at you. “Careful, they take security footage of this place, don't confess to any thoughts you may or may not have.”

You laugh, going back to cleaning before you start again. “Can’t believe you put off closing the diner just so you could watch me get stood up for an extra however many minutes.”

“Counterpoint: Can’t believe you let yourself get stood up for so long.” Dick finishes up at the register and grabs the broom. “You’re worth more than that.”

“Oh? And how do you know what I’m worth?” you say instinctively. 

You watch his eyes widen from your peripheral vision, like he didn’t mean to say his last comment out loud. “I wasn’t trying to overstep, but, like, obviously you’re attractive. You could get anyone you wanted and–”

“You’ve been watching me all night, haven't you?” Filled with newfound confidence, you leave your rag and spray bottle and walk over to where Dick is sweeping the entrance. 

Despite how friendly he’s been tonight, he deliberately avoids eye contact as he works. “Well, yeah, I needed to make sure you got your order once – if – you placed one–”

“No, no. I mean you were watching me,” you place a hand on his shoulder. “What, you wish you were the one I was going on a date with?”

And though you know you’re jumping to conclusions, he stiffens at your words and it’s clear you’ve caught him.

“I… I didn’t want to bother–” Dick starts, dropping the broom. You use the opening to push him against the wall, hearing the scratches of the brick against his button up shirt.

“That’s alright,” you whisper. “I don’t mind being bothered.”

You can feel his chest rise and fall as you press yourself closer to him. His eyes follow your every move, and you bring your face closer until it's only inches away from his. 

You can feel the puffs of his inhales and exhales on your skin, and you’re about to completely close the gap between you two, but Dick beats you to it. He kisses you, and you pull back for a moment in surprise before sinking into the kiss.

His lips are so warm, and as he brings up a hand to pull you closer by the jaw, you notice how surprisingly soft his hands are. You try to deepen the kiss, nipping his lip in the process, and he lets out a gasp. Biting at his lip a little more, he giggles as he realizes you’re playing with him.

“You’re starting to bother me,” he quips, trying to keep his composure as you nip at the underside of his jaw. Just when he starts getting comfortable and relaxing into your kisses, you switch to biting at him, and he jolts.

“Maybe you deserve it. You need to learn better manners, sitting there, watching me all night. Bet you wish I would’ve shoved you against this wall a whole lot sooner, huh?” you whisper into his ear before going back to kissing down his neck. He moans at your words, but tries to muffle himself by pushing his face into his shoulder. You bring a hand up to his hair and tug to get him to pay attention to you.

“Right in front of everyone, too,” you continue, sliding a hand down his stomach to work on his jeans. “Just mark you, make you moan like a bitch while everyone else is watching.”

Biting his lip, Dick tries to ignore the effect your words have on him, but he’s still rutting against your hand as you’re unzipping him. He gives a small thrust against the air, whimpering as you wrap your hand around his cock.

“Shit, this all for me?” you breathe. You swear Dick can hear you smirk, even as he pinches his eyes shut.

“Don’t– Ah!” he gets cut off as you start stroking him slowly. “Don’t let– let it go to your head.”

“No, I think I’ll be just fine,” you quicken your pace, not giving him a second to get ready. “If I remember right, some slut thinks he’s hot enough to get me to fuck him just by, what, batting his eyes at me? From all the way across the diner?”

“Well–” He groans, arching his back against the wall. The sweat shines against his cheeks, you feel so lucky to be the cause of it. “Well I was right, wasn’t I?”

You chuckle, caught off guard. “Guess you are.”

You briefly remove your hand, and Dick grunts, irritated, before you spit in it and go back to forcefully jerking him off. His moans grow louder, and you can see him start to get lost, eyes growing distant while chasing his orgasm.

“Are you going to come already?” you say, slowing your pace to be more deliberate, but still keeping the pressure the same. After a moment of silence, you slap his balls and he lets out a yelp that melts into a groan. 

“Answer me!” you shout, bringing your hand back up to pull at his hair.

“Ah– Yeah, y-yes!” he gasps. “You’re going to make me cum!”

“Good,” you say before you bite at his neck again, sucking a spot right under his jugular. The skin starts to deepen and you lick, tending to it before you nip at it again, just biting hard enough to draw a pinprick of blood. 

Dick screams as he cums, thrusting into your fist at an uncontrolled pace. You work him through it, matching his speed until he falls back against the wall, spent. As he slides down the wall until he sits on the ground, you walk back to one of the chairs.

“Damn, not ready for round two?” you say, propping up your head on the top rail. He huffs through his nose, looking at you for a moment like he’s checking to see if you’re real. He seems to find what he’s looking for, giggling and resting his head on his knees. 

“Oh my god, Dick, stop it. We need to go!” A tall, built man walks out of the kitchen, “Jason” according to his name tag. Looking sheepish, Dick is ready to defend himself, but Jason walks towards him, ignoring every word coming out of Dick’s mouth. 

Dick hands you a napkin, gesturing a phone and mouthing the words “call me” as he’s dragged out of the building by Jason. In shock, you open up the napkin to find his name and his number hastily scribbled in ballpoint pen. Smirking to yourself, you only wish you knew how early on in the night Dick prepared this napkin for you. You could’ve saved the both of you two hours of waiting.