#and now i'm face to face with her and i'm starting to think it's morally and logically correct to sacrifice her

[emmavakarian-theirin]

ISOLDE.

[starpros-sunshine]

I hate suddenly knowing a lot of people how did I literally become that one bitch in the sitcom that's always everywhere

[venusbyline]

Thinking about Teen! Aegon and Adult! Aegon going with Younger! Sister to the Sept. Not because he believes in the Seven, but it’s the only time he gets alone with her / can see her in gentle candle light and pretty veils ( like Alicent’s in the Sept scenes )

Sometimes he presses her against the altar of the Seven and dry humps her from behind - whispering at their union ( incest and doing it in the Sept ) being a sin and blasphemy, other times he fingers her during Mass, sometimes he’ll have her jerk him off under the statues of the Seven, etc. 

But, this one time he sees her genuinely praying to the Mother ( who represents Motherhood and Nurturing - who you pray to for mercy or to make a woman fertile ) and goes downright FERAL!

Cause why else would Younger! Sister be praying to the Mother if not because she wanted him to breed her with heirs?

Sorry sweetie I really forgot about the Adult!Aegon part cuz currently I'm sooooo obsessed about Teen!Aegon being betrothing to his younger sister, but now I'm thinking... Adult!Aegon would literally do something like that if he was already married to Helaena, for example. So the only free (and dirty) time he would've with his little sister would be in the Sept 🤭🤭

⚠️: SMUT CONTENT. female!reader, teen!Aegon II Targaryen, Targcest (older brother/younger sister), corruption kink, breeding kink, underage sex (no specific mention of reader's or Aegon's ages tho), public sex, handjob, vaginal fingering, dry humping, doggy style position, Jaehaerys Targaryen/Jaehaera Targaryen incest kinda implied.

At first, Teen!Aegon would not be used to going to Mass or randomly praying at the Sept. He had never been a religious boy, he had always found his maternal family's faith extremely pathetic and silly. Living according to the morality of the Seven was not something Aegon would have wished in a million years. He preferred the enjoyment of brothels, the pleasures that prostitutes brought him, admiring gorgeous women dancing there or watching their orgies...

However, that was until Alicent and Viserys announced a betrothal between Aegon and his younger sister.

You were not exactly the type of girl that attracted Aegon, but your older brother began to take an interest about your sweet personality after realizing that you were such a innocent little thing. He was used to seductive and experienced women, but the idea of corrupting you and molding you to what he wanted soon seemed quite fascinating.

Of course, there were many obstacles complicating Aegon's depravities. Alicent was the worst of all of them. Always pulling you away from your brother when he tried to get too close to you, always making sure that the knights were patrolling both of your chambers to prevent Aegon from trying to sneak into yours at nights or dragging you to his own.

Then... the only way out Aegon found was to start going to the Sept with you. Obviously, Alicent found it suspicious at first, demanding that Ser Criston accompany the two of you almost like a protective father. Aegon was not stupid, despite being so perverted. He held back his lust for a few weeks, making sure that neither Alicent nor Criston had any proof that he was doing anything to you right there in that sacred place. When his mother and the knight no longer had any reason to distrust all the time or to be too cautious about the two of you, Aegon took the opportunity to start acting like the naughty boy he always was.

It always started with him admiring how delightful you looked there in the Sept, with those lit candles illuminating your pretty face and the beauty of your typical green dress. If you were actually focused on the Masses, he would struggle to restrain himself from just staring at your beauty and jerking off surreptitiously. However, the moment his horny got the better of him... Aegon would pull your hand out without anyone seeing, asking for your help to make him cum while he also fingered inside your cunt.

"Fuck, little sister... You are so tight, your hole is practically crushing my hand." Your brother growled softly in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as he added a three finger.

He was getting you used to all of that... The corruption and the blasphemy. If no one was around when you prayed in front of the Altar, he would kneel behind you and dry hump your ass like a pathetic boy, whimpering and biting his own lips to keep himself from moaning loudly as the orgasm approached.

"You know what we are doing is a sin, do not you?" Aegon sneered, though his voice was trembling while he was still rubbing himself. "Perverting ourselves at the Sept is already a huge sin, even more because we are siblings. Two perverted and incestuous sinners..."

And then there was the sight of you alone during a random night, genuinely praying to the Mother, kneeling at the altar and so intently focused... Gods, it was too much for him. What else could you be asking for other than his heirs? What else could you be praying for other than blessings about fertility, babies and pregnancies?

Your wedding ceremony was not even that close yet, but you were already desperate to carry your older brother's heirs, desperate to be treated like a broodmare. Who could blame you? You desired Aegon's cock inside you so badly...

You did not even bother to pretend to want Aegon to stop when he pressed you against the altar, his heavy hands moving up to cup your round ass beneath your dress and squeezing the soft flesh. "My little sister, you are already wanting the Mother to bless us with children? We are not even married yet and you are already wanting to get pregnant?" Aegon whispered after a chuckle, moving one arm forward so he could grab your wet cunt with his entire palm. "Is that so, sweet sister? Do you want me to take your maidenhead right here? Do you want the Seven to bless our first time and help you get pregnant soon?" He purred, licking your neck and rubbing his arousal against the fabric of your dress, making you feel how hard and thick he felt. "Perhaps the Mother will bless us with twins, a boy and a girl, so they can have some dirty fun in their future just like we are doing right now..."

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[multifandom-exe]

Oblivious - A. Hotchner x Reader

Request: Hotch x bau reader where hotch has feelings but reader is completely oblivious? 

Word count: 2k 

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭.

The line. There was always a line. A line between good and evil. A line between love and hate. A line between professional and personal. That was a line you loved to flirt with, to teeter on, to play with like it was your favorite toy. Of course, you shouldn't be flirting with your boss, but when he was stood there, in that suit that highlights his shoulders and his wrists and his thighs and oh god... 

“(Y/N)?” And the way your name came from his lips was like heaven on earth right there. “(Y/N)?” What? A hand lightly brushed against your shoulder as he moved his head to be in eyeline with you. Slight concern in them as he gave you a small smile, sending electric through your body and thoroughly grounding you to earth. 

“Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just... tired.” You tried to look anywhere but his eyes as you so desperately tried to cover the train of thought that had your skin buzzing and your heart racing. You glanced at his hand on your shoulder as he took it away, wanting to whine at the loss of contact.  

Flirting with your boss was your own self sabotage. But you relished it every time. Every touch he missed. Every glance he didn't see. Every time your heart rate sped up as you saw him leave his office. He didn't notice any of it. And it made you want him all that much more. You should've been glad. Ecstatic even. Because once he realized you liked him, in a way he didn't like you, in a way no subordinate should ever like their boss. That line would be crossed. And no amount of ‘I'm sorry’ or ‘let's forget about it’ could undo it. 

Morgan and JJ stood a length away, taking in the scene in front of them. You, absentmindedly playing with your hair, a sign of flirting. And him, fiddling with his hands as he looked into your eyes whilst you spoke. 

- 

“Do you think they’ll ever notice the other is so head over heels for them?” JJ stated, watching you two with a look that's usually only reserved for Henry when he doesn't understand what he did wrong, or when Emily is openly talking about someone right behind her. A grimace more like. 

“Nope.” He started, popping the ‘p’. “They've been doing this dance for too long; I'm starting to think it's never gonna happen.” He tutted and tried to take his eyes off... whatever was happening over there. 

- 

“You look nice today, by the way. You do every day, but you know.” His attempt at flattery didn't go amiss as you smiled bashfully. 

“Thank you, so do you. I enjoy this side of you much more, the happier side. Is this some new technique to raise team morale?” You quirked an eyebrow as you smiled at him, desperately trying to quell the faint blush on your cheeks. 

His smile faltered slightly. Right. The team. It's been years since he flirted with anyone and clearly, he must be doing something wrong if you're thinking of him and the team. Every day he saw you. And every day he just wanted to throw caution to the wind and hold your hand, touch your face, stroke your hair. Feel you. Gently. Fully. Months. Months of slight flirts and fleeting touches and he feels no closer to being with you now than when you first joined the team. How one of his best profilers could miss something that was right there, he would never know. He was sure he was getting to the point where he looked pathetic. Rossi had even mentioned it to him, a late night in his office over a bottle of scotch. ‘I'm starting to question your profiling skills Aaron, if you two could see what everyone else sees, you'd know there's no question about what happens next with you two’. But here he was, trying his best to put his heart on his sleeve, and even that wasn't working. Or maybe it was, and you knew, and you were simply saving him the embarrassment of rejection. 

A cough broke him away from his thoughts. He looked at you as you nodded your head towards your nosy team members, who stood absentmindedly watching the two of you. He copied your cough and looked pointedly at his team. 

“Back to work.” He said firmly, turning to touch your arm and give you a small smile before returning to his office. Your cheeks heated as you stared at the spot on your arm, slowly walking back to your desk. You sat in your chair, thoughts going a mile a minute and you sighed, pulling your files closer. 

“Oh, Hotch your just so dreamy!” Morgan lays his hand dramatically on his forehead, attempting to mock you. 

“Oh (Y/N), you look absolutely ravishing today.” Emily came over to join in the teasing, doing her best Hotch impression. 

“What are you two idiots yapping about?” You looked up at the scene, laughing inwardly at their antics. 

“Cmon, Hotch is so into you!” Came from JJ as she giggled softly. “And I'm willing to bet the feeling is reciprocated.” She tugged at your cheek, pointing out the obvious blush dusting them. 

“Okay, we’re all bullying me, stay mad.” You tried to joke but they all gave you pointed glares like you were the stupidest person in the world. “He is not into me! He just wants someone in this office to actually do their work.” You giggled before pulling all your files together. You pushed your chair back and stood up to deliver your files for the day. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Sugar!” Derek shouted as you walked away, receiving an unceremonious middle finger in response. 

You jogged up the stairs to Hotch's office, raising your hand to knock on the door, finding it already open. Your heart hummed against your chest at the thought of him hearing the ‘workplace gossip’. Well, can it really be gossip if it's true? 

“I have the files you wanted.” You held them close to your chest as you absentmindedly played with the small pieces of paper sticking out. The tension in the office was palpable. The same tension that hung over you when you looked a little too long, or smiled a little too brightly.  

His head snapped up at your voice and he broke out into one of those very rare Aaron Hotchner smiles TM. “You can just put them there.” He pointed to his desk, trying to shield his face that sported the same bright pink as you. As you approached, he begged to every god on earth you couldn't hear his heartbeat threatening to break out of his ribs. There was a beat of silence as you put the files down. You knew you shouldn't linger, but you couldn't help it. Youd do everything in your power to look at him a second longer each time he leaves. He looks up at you. He really looks at you. Eyes so bright whilst still working a job like this. Plump lips being gently bitten between your teeth. That conversation, outside. A conversation he never should've heard. This was his in. 

“They are right you know.” Your head lifted gently, taking you away from whatever thoughts lingered. Your eyebrows knitted together as a nervous smile and quizzical look painted your face. He stood and moved around his desk toward you. “i am ‘so into you’.” He tried his best to keep his earth shattering confession as light hearted as he could, rolling his eyes a little at the end of his sentence. He sucked in a breath as your face didnt move an inch from the shocked look plastered on it. God. This was the worst idea ever. He could already feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the everything, trying to claw its way out of his throat. His usual stoic look must have faltered, as he felt you lay your hand on his arm, breaking through his layer of despair. 

“Hotch.” Your eyes softened as you looked at him, and your eyes closed lightly, a blush spreading on your cheeks. It felt like this wave of emotion had hit you and you just wanted to cry. The line. It had been crossed, and it was so utterly terrifying, and felt so fucking amazing. 

He had obviously mistaken your soft tone as one of pity, of rejection. He stuttered slightly and turned his back to you, flushing deeply. He babbled, about how ‘sorry’ he was, and how we should ‘just forget he said anything’. God, he had taken risks in his life, but this was possibly the most, stupid, miscalculated, inconcieve- 

“Hotch!” Your raised voice broke him out of his spiral as he turned to face you once more. You moved toward him and lightly pushed a stray hair from his forehead. He so desperately wanted to lean into your touch. “Whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours, at least let me finish what i was saying.” He shook his head lightly, like he was trying to shake his thoughts away, as he gazed into your eyes for the first time since his confession. “I'm totally into you too.” You mirrored his earlier words with a slight giggle. And just like that, a wave of emotion erupted in him. He breathed deeply, not realizing he was depriving himself of air waiting for your answer.  

He moved to softly run his thumb over your cheek as he gazed at you lovingly. “I've been wanting to tell you for so long. I tried flirting but I figured I just wasn't very good because you hadn't realized.” 

“Stop. I've been doing the same thing!” You gently dropped your head to his chest, laughing incredulously at the stupidity, that two very intelligent profilers had missed all of this. So oblivious. Both wrapped in their own little world of desperate pining.  

“How about i take you on a date? I could definitely use some time away from this office.” He lifted your chin gently, so you were looking into his eyes. 

“I couldnt think of anything better” You gazed at him, happiness threatening to burst your heart into two. 

Bonus 

Through the large office window, the 5 profilers stood, huddled around your desk, staring intently, like it was the finale of their favorite rom-com. They all sighed a huge breath as they saw you lay your head on Aaron's chest, all turning to eachother with the most shit-eating-grins. 

“I think, Reid and Morgan owe me 20 bucks.” Rossi smirked as JJ and Emily burst into laughter. Morgan hit himself on the cheek playfully with a little ‘ouch’ before rooting through his pocket for a 20. Reid had tried to argue ‘as Hotch's best friend, of course you'd understand him the best’ But it was to no avail, as Rossi just stuck his hand out and gave him an unconvinced look. He sighed and rooted through his pockets.  

After much laughter and gossip, they all turned back to see you placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and hurrying out of his office. They caught him lifting a hand to where you had kissed. Upon realizing his blinds were open, he promptly shut them, trying his best to plaster his intimidating look back on his face. You stopped at the top of the stairs as you realized all eyes were on you. You coughed and tried to indignantly hide the blush that coated your cheeks.  

“Back to work.” 

-

let me know what you think! and pls request this was so cute.

Taglist

@back-totheoldhouse

[msgexymunson]

Shotgun

Description: you're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek? 

A/n: do I have 10 WIPs? Yes. Do I have requests I'm working on? Also yes. So logically, I started a one shot from a smutty dream I had, that turned into a freaking long one. Enjoy!

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll feed you to the fishes. Very smutty, a bit of angst, hella fluff! Reader is AFAB, cocky!experienced!Eddie x Virgin!band geek!fem!reader, very slight dub con in the beginning (touching over panties, explicit consent not given), female fingering receiving, dry humping, female oral receiving, p in v protected sex. 

❤️Reblogs are what keep me going; they keep Tumblr going, and my little black heart beating. Reblog my work and I'll love you forever sweetheart. ❤️

12.5k words (oops) 

Masterlist

"You know you guys can't handle this shit!" 

Eddie laughs, nearly spilling the beer cradled in his hand. 

Steve rolls his eyes, chucking his beer top into the campfire you guys had set up for the evening, the paint sparking briefly. 

"Come on Munson, pass it round, quit being a bitch." 

"Yeah Eddie, share the love!" 

Robin giggles as she clutches her chest dramatically. Shaking your head, you shift uncomfortably on the ground. It's not that you haven't been around this sort of stuff before, people you weren't too keen on have smoked once in your company. It wasn't even a moral thing, you were just a little scared of the effect. That, and the fact you were sitting right next to Eddie Munson. 

Eddie, the guy you've literally been frightened of since you saw him leaping on tables in the cafeteria. That was some time ago, and Robin had assured you he was a good guy. You trusted her judgement completely, hence why you'd even considered going camping with the three of them for the weekend. It didn't help the fact that you were just a band geek, not used to these sorts of get togethers. Hell, your closest friends played chess for fun. This was so out of your comfort zone that you felt like a deer in headlights. Only a week ago you had your first beer, at 21; the proper age. Now you were sucking back a brew in the woods at night, sitting next to the drug dealer of the area. 

It could just be the beer talking, but Eddie looks good right now. Every time he shook his mane of hair out of his face it had you biting your lip. He threw his head back when he laughed and the sight of that stretched neck of his had you clenching your thighs, feelings bubbling up that you'd never felt before. 

So when his hand reached out and his fingertips grazed you, a blunt pressed between his thick ringed fingers, you gasped, pulling your hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Come on, take it." 

Your tongue feels thick and swollen, sticking to the roof of your mouth. Words. Think of words. 

"Can't you, erm, pass it the other way?" 

"No, it always goes to the left sweetheart." 

Sweetheart.

Glad the low light hides your blazing cheeks at the pet name, you dip your eyes downward for fear of them exposing you. You played the flute for Christ's sake. This was not your thing. 

"I-I, well, I-" 

"You not smoked before?"

Robin's voice cuts through the myriad of noises in your head, making you turn violently. 

"I just, I never-" 

"Look at me." 

Those words from him sing through your nerves, making you forget any thought you had, or anticipated. As you turn, Eddie's dark eyes bore into you. 

"You trust me?" 

No. A thousand times no.

"Yes." 

"Come here." 

He shifts and gets up on his knees, joint pressed between pouting lips as he lights it again, the cherry blazing almost as hot as your blood right now. You mimic his movements, rising on shaky thighs to kneel in front of him. 

"Right, I'm gonna take a pull, and blow the smoke, when I breathe out, you breathe in, 'kay?" 

His words are sweet, and a little condescending, an edge of talking down that just stirs up your insides further, guts a puddle. 

"Okay." 

He cups his hands to his face, gesturing for you to do the same. Raising your shaking hands, you touch them delicately with his. He flips his hands so they are on the outside, cupping yours, pushing them together with a lot more force than you did. 

He's close, so close. Your breath hitches in your throat, those deep eyes a couple of inches from yours. Heat radiates from his body, your skin itching almost from its blistering warmth. That could just be from the fire. Or the fire in between your legs. 

He smells good. There's weed there, sure, and the beer you've all been drinking, and some aftershave you couldn't place, maybe bergamot? An undercurrent lies beneath it all, of man and skin, that makes your toes curl. 

He breathes into you then, the swirling smoke trying to escape your cupped hands. 

You inhale deeply, focusing on the feel of Eddie's rough hands, on his touch. You breathe in until there's nothing left and hold it. His eyes don't leave yours, sparkling in the fire light. 

The exhale hurts more. Breathing out smoke, you revel in the fact you didn't cough or startle. The feeling of him letting go of your hands is far worse. 

A ringing, whooping noise finally reaches your ears, between the sound of your own blood pumping. Robin and Steve are cheering like morons, but your gaze doesn't leave Eddie. 

"There you go. Good girl." 

Damn. 

A sharp intake of breath pulls into your lungs and straight to your heat. The pure shock and desire those two words drew from you have you dropping backwards, butt slamming into the pine needle dusted ground. 

"Hey you OK?" Robin's hand on your shoulder distracts you briefly and you flash a weak smile. 

"Sure, just went to my head a little, I'm good." 

Eddie's hand reaches over you, passing the blunt to Robin. You dare not look him in the eye, fearful that everything you felt was written all over your innocent face. Out of your periphery, you can tell he's facing you. Suddenly the fire was extremely interesting. 

Robin has a couple of tokes, and tries a third when Steve waves at her. 

"Quit hogging it!" 

"OK, don't get your panties in a twist!" Passing it to Steve with a loud huff, he takes it and breathes deep. And promptly coughs his guts out. 

Robin and Eddie cackle, and even you can spare a giggle at the irony. 

"Told you Harrington. Even the little band cutie took it better than you!" 

"Fuck off Munson." 

Hell, he knows who I am. And he called me cute.

This is Eddie. Scary, metal head, drug dealer Eddie. Eddie who all of a sudden stirs your insides up and makes your head dizzy. Eddie who you now realise is actually goddamn gorgeous. 

Eddie takes a hit and turns to you. 

"You wanna try smoking it sweetheart?" 

Heart hammering in your ribs, you manage to speak. 

"C-can you do, that thing, again?" 

His smile is dipped in sin as he scoots nearer to you, and you copy him. Suddenly this seems more intimate, sitting on the ground, twisting to face each other, inches away. He takes a hit and holds it, gesturing at you to lean closer. The way he tilts his head, you could almost believe he's going to kiss you. This time, he cups your face, blowing smoke at you. It's so close his lips brush yours ever so softly. 

You're not sure if your inhale was intentional or a shocked gasp, but in the smoke goes. 

Did he mean to do that? 

One look into his eyes tells you yes. There's a cockiness to his grin, the devil dancing across his face. 

So, did he do it because he likes you, or is he just messing with you? Only Eddie knows the answer to that. 

You exhale, less than an inch from his full lips. Time stops. That is until Steve and his loud mouth break the spell. 

"Come on, get a room you guys!" He practically yells, throwing a twig in your direction. 

You snap your head away from Eddie and stare at Steve with wild eyes. 

"I-I wasn't, we- we weren't-" 

"We weren't? Well, that's a damn shame."

As you glance back at Eddie he's leaning on propped up elbows, looking so sure of himself that it's annoying, bordering on making you angry. 

Cheeks flooding with warmth, your mouth forms words without checking with your brain first. 

"Y-you know what you are Eddie?" 

He tilts his head at you, still smirking, and gestures a hand willing you to continue. 

"A cocky mother fucker." 

The grin falls from his face as he looks at you in shock. Robin and Steve practically piss themselves laughing at your sudden outburst. 

"Shit Eddie you better watch out!" Robin laughs out. 

"Yeah, that kitty's got claws dude." Steve agrees. 

Embarrassed at your own words, you risk glancing at Eddie. You were expecting him to be upset, angry even. That's not the case; he looks impressed. 

"Shit, yeah, I can see that. Didn't know you had it in you sweetheart." 

Smiling to yourself, you stretch your legs and wiggle your feet. You impressed him. Your turn for a smug smile. 

Pretty soon the high starts to settle in; a warmth seeps through your bones and a tingle spreads from your head into your body. It feels like you're quivering whilst sitting still. Steve offers you another beer but you turn it down, well aware that being too foggy right now would be a bad idea. Especially since Eddie has been creeping closer. Now you're side by side, hips so close any time he moves he brushes against you. 

The fire dies down, turning to embers. The beer coat has vanished, leaving you shivering. Steve and Robin are already under a blanket; you can see Robin's eyes are close to closing. 

"You ok there sweetheart? Cold?" 

"I-I'm O-OK." 

"No you aren't, you're shaking." 

Without a further word he's taking off his jacket and putting his arm firmly around you. Whatever space there was between you has melted away, sides now flush. 

You could say the same for your face. This may well be the closest you've been to a boy. Well, a man. He drapes the jacket over the pair of you, covering your crossed legs and his lap, and rubs his hand smoothly up and down your arm to warm you. Little does he know how much he's warming your insides, each stroke sending a buzzing desire through your limbs. 

Steve's chatting away; yet another story about Dustin spilling from his lips when you feel Eddie's other hand snaking underneath the jacket, coming to rest on your thigh. 

Eyes wide, you flick your gaze towards him. 

"What are you doing?" You whisper urgently. 

"Just warming you up sweetheart." 

He says it so sweetly, yet it belies the movements of his hand, moving further up your leg to run soft circles just underneath the hem of your skirt. 

You can't hear a word Steve is saying, unable to concentrate on anything but Eddie's touch and the whooshing blood in your ears. No one had ever touched you like this, not once.  

Robin's shrill voice breaks through the fizzing in your head; once again her and Steve are arguing over something. You might have heard Vickie being mentioned but you can't be sure. 

Eddie's hand trails higher, within reach of your panties. Breath catching in your throat, you mean to admonish him but all that comes out is a breathy noise. 

"Eddie…" 

He rests his chin on your shoulder, hot breath fanning your ear. 

"You want me to stop?" 

You don't answer, you can't. You're frozen, unable to move, unable to make a sound lest a moan escape your lips. 

He wouldn't dare, not with Steve and Robin here, would he?

He would. 

Eddie runs a finger gently down the front of your panties. The softest touch, a whisper of a thing. Then he does it again, up and down, pressing the cotton of your briefs into your private parts. 

You can feel your insides fluttering, a burning settling between your legs, being stoked by every barely there touch. Suddenly, he presses down on something that has you softly whimpering and clenching at nothing. A tingle shoots down your legs to the tips of your toes. 

You hear a small noise; it's Eddie chuckling in his throat. It snaps you out of your frozen state and you move to get up. 

"I'm going to bed guys." 

Standing abruptly, you let Eddie's jacket fall from you as he scrambles to keep it over his own lap. 

You turn to your tent and hear Steve and Robin wish you goodnight, and mumble about going to bed soon too. 

"Night guys!" 

"Want any company sweetheart?" 

There he is, sitting with that arrogant look on his face. 

"Goodnight, Eddie." 

You say it firmly, even though your resolve is as substantial as tissue paper. Stomping over to your tent, you turn on your camp light and sit on your double inflatable bed, hugging your knees. 

Now that you're alone you realise how much that weed affected you. You feel airy, light as a feather, fingers and toes still tingling. 

It must be the drugs. 

You focus on the reality of the situation. You just let some guy touch you down there. Eddie Munson touched you over your panties. 

So why weren't you scared? Or angry at him? It's not like he asked. The fact is that  no one's done anything like that to you before, and it felt incredible. Left you aching for more. That thought was making you more frightened than anything else. 

You listen to the group slowly pad their way off to bed, rustles of clothing, mumbled 'goodnights', and tent zips. 

To the left of your tent was the huge six berth Steve had brought for him and Robin. It was fancy, you assume he 'borrowed' it from his parents. On the cusp of hearing there was bickering. You don't know how Robin and Steve became friends, or how they maintained it since they acted like an old married couple most of the time, but it seemed to work. After a few minutes soft snores echoed from the two of them. 

No sound comes from the other side, where Eddie had pitched a little coffin tent. You wonder if he's still sitting by the dying embers of the fire. He's probably smoking. 

Stop thinking about him.

You undress, only pulling an oversized t-shirt on to sleep in since your big sleeping bag is so warm. You'd bought a double one with your birthday money last year because you hated feeling restricted. It was a luxury but with all the camping you did it just made sense. Snuggling into its spacious depths, you attempt to quiet the raging hormones coursing through your veins. 

God, why is he so annoying and smug? It burned you up, but you couldn't deny how much it turned you on. 

You slide your hand between your legs, pressing hard to try and quench the fire. He did something, you're sure of it. This wasn't natural for you, movements unsure and bordering on clumsy. When you run your finger through your naked folds you whimper, and see how wet you are. Gasping, you explore further, and find that spot, a hidden nub that sends a bolt of lightning to your core. 

"Oh fuck," you breathe out in a moan, starting to rub up and down. 

"You alright in there sweetheart?" 

Oh shit, he's right outside the tent. Was he there the whole time? 

"Yeah, what do you want?" 

"I'm cold, can I come in?" 

No.

"Y-yeah." 

He unzips the tent and enters, crouching to accommodate his height. Closing the tent up, he takes in his surroundings, letting out a low whistle. 

"Pretty sweet set up you've got here, your folks rich or something?" 

"No, I just do a lot of camping with the troop." 

"Huh?" He looks confused, falling to his knees to look you in the eyes. 

"The girl scouts, I volunteer as a leader." 

The laughter that comes from him is loud and rich. 

"Fuck, you got that little innocent act down don't you?" 

It's your turn to look confused. 

"What on earth are you talking about Eddie?" 

He scoffs at you, clearly not buying it. 

"The cute little band geek thing, helping out with girl scouts. Shit, the whole 'can you do that thing again?' " He mimics your words from earlier and you flush crimson. 

"Eddie, I honestly don't know what you're going on about. I never smoked before, I hadn't even had a beer before my 21st last week. I've never even- no one's done what you did, outside." 

Eddie's jaw may as well be on the floor. 

"You're fucking with me." 

You shake your head, lips pressed tight. 

"Well, now I feel like an asshole." He huffs out, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

"Well maybe you should, you never asked." 

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought you were one of those freaky band kids. You kept looking at me like you were gonna eat me alive, I thought I was in for a rough night." He laughs, shooting a gaze at you. 

"Well you thought wrong." You turn your head, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

"I'll go if you want. Want me to leave?" 

Yes. 

"No." 

A smile spreads slowly across his face, and he inches closer to you on his hands and knees, palms splayed on the foot of your air bed. 

"So, you want me to stay?" 

"No." 

"So… should I sleep in the doorway?"

A fair question, considering your answer. You laugh, looking back at him. His smile is softer, much less mocking. It's sweet almost, sanding down your rough edges. 

"Yeah, you can be my bodyguard. Protect me from bears and mountain lions and stuff." 

He chuckles and climbs over; you lay back on instinct, further away. Leaning right over you, his face is an inch from yours, hair tickling your cheek. 

"You know, I could protect this beautiful body of yours better if I was in the sleeping bag with you." 

"You don't give up, do you?" You whisper into his skin, sounding braver than you felt. 

"It was the sweet and innocent thing, did me in." 

He plants a soft kiss to your cheek, brushing your skin, and another, to the corner of your mouth that makes you shiver. 

"Tell me to stop." 

"Eddie, kiss me." 

His mouth is on your then, hot and heavy, tongue begging at your bottom lip. You give him an inch and he takes a mile, tongue sliding against yours with practised movements. Not expecting the full force of his kiss, you suddenly realise you're moaning into his mouth, hands coming to wind into his loose locks. 

He breaks away, chuckling at the way you chase his lips. 

"You know, you don't kiss like a good girl." 

Merely whining in response, you try to catch your breath. 

"So, can I get in the sleeping bag? I'm freezing out there." 

"Fine, just, no funny business." You point your finger at him, gasping when he licks it long and slow. 

"Nothing you don't want me to do." He winks, and pulls his t-shirt over his head. 

"What are you doing?" 

He ignores you, pulling his socks off and  unbuttoning his jeans. 

"I'm getting undressed. Why, expect me to sleep in my jeans?" 

You merely screw your nose up in response. Stripped down to his boxers, he clambers his lithe body onto the sleeping bag with you, all elbows and knees. Sighing, you move over to accommodate him but he wraps his arms around you. 

"Eddie, what-" 

"I'm cold sweetheart, just, warm me up a little?" 

Your heart is hammering in your ribcage with the realisation that you're entirely out of control of this situation. You allow him to hold you, and hesitantly rest your arm over him. Your head is snuggled into his neck, feeling more comfortable than you had any right to be. 

"Eddie, your legs are freezing." 

"I know! I wasn't lying, my sleeping bag's shitty." 

He pushes his thigh between yours, and you remember a split second too late that you're not wearing any bottoms. Suddenly, his bare thigh is pressed against your naked heat. You're praying to any Gods that might be listening that he doesn't notice, attempting to stay as still as possible. 

He's warming up slowly, but you're stiff as a post, trying not to focus on his thigh and the slight pressure it's putting on your most delicate parts. 

"So, you gonna tell me what you were doing sweetheart?" 

"What?" You whisper into the soft skin of his neck.

"Well, I came out of my tent to see if you were still awake, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning." 

"N-no, I wasn't!" 

"Quit lying, I can feel your cunt on my leg." 

You nearly choke on your own saliva. 

"Eddie, you can't just say that!"

You hit him on the chest. He just laughs, dragging your little fist to his mouth to kiss it. 

"I can when you're soaking my leg." 

Opening your mouth to respond, all words escape you. Especially when he grinds his thigh against your folds. Instead of words, a whimper breaks from your lips. 

"Yeah? That good sweetheart?" 

The smugness is back, but you can't find it in you to care, not when he rocks his hips and the force of his leg sets loose a roll of pleasure. He's hard, it's pressing into your hip. 

A lean arm curls around you, his thick thumb finding its way to your chin to lift it upwards. You stare into his darkened eyes as they dart to your lips and back up. 

All resolve is dissolved like ash in the rain as you feel the intensity of his stare and the warmth of him between your thighs. You crash your lips to his desperately, hips chasing friction. When his heavy tongue slips into your mouth you respond in kind, needy and vigorous. 

He takes his thigh away and you huff at the loss, but it's not for long, not when that hand of his is stroking down your front, lightly massaging your hardened nipples and chasing down to your stomach. He cups your mound, one finger pushing down on your swollen nub. 

"Eddie." 

It's a whimper, a plea into his open mouth. Responding by biting your bottom lip softly, he dips his finger lower, circling your entrance gently. His finger slips inside then and you clench around it immediately, moaning at the foreign feeling. It's odd, yes, but it's so good that you cry out. 

"Gotta be quiet sweetheart, don't want anyone hearing me fuck you with my fingers." 

His crude words are peppering your insides with fire, the evidence of your arousal seeping out of you. Humming in response, you bite your lip, clinging desperately to his side. 

He slowly pumps his finger in and out, watching your face. You're slick jawed, eyebrows knitted tight, hips rolling with each thrust of his hand. 

"Fuck you're so tight, can barely fit my finger in." 

"Eddie, no one's ever-" 

"Shhh, I fuckin' know sweetheart. Gonna make you feel really good. Just enjoy it." 

He curls his finger inside you, incessantly stroking at something that's making your legs tense up and your insides flutter around him, the heel of his hand flat and hard against that spot again. 

"Oh my God!" You whisper urgently, fingernails digging into his sides. 

"I know baby, feels good yeah?" 

"Uh huh" you manage to breathe out as your eyes squeeze shut. 

The pressure collating in your tummy is building and building as he speeds up, finger reaching deep inside. It releases, and flows from you, wave after wave crashing down and washing away everything but Eddie. 

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the skin of Eddie's chest, resisting the urge to clamp your teeth into his flesh.

As you come down, he releases his digit with a wet sucking sound that probably would have made you embarrassed five minutes ago, but now it's just inconsequential. 

"Still with me?" He asks softly as he hugs you close. 

"Barely" You mumble; he chuckles at your reply. 

He rolls you on top of him, moving your legs so you're straddling him. His hard on is pressing firmly into your privates, your slick dampening the front of his boxers immediately. 

"Eddie, I'm not- I can't have sex with-" 

"Sweetheart, you trust me?" 

Yes. 

"No."

There's that look again, that edge of mocking that isn't making you annoyed anymore, it's making you want to pull his underwear down and slip him inside of you. 

"I'm not gonna fuck you. Not unless you want me to. Relax sweetheart." 

His hands are on your ass, moving you against him to grind on his rock hard bulge. Your eyes widen, the friction so much better than his thigh. 

He lets out a stifled moan, and damn if it isn't the best noise you've heard in your life. 

His hands trail under your shirt as you take over moving against him, feeling the shape of him under you. Tugging at the hem, he looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Can I- can I take this off?" 

All feelings of modesty have fled and you whip your shirt over your head and fling it across the tent. 

"Fuck, look at you." 

Leaning forward he takes your nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around and around. 

"Eddie, oh Holy fuck!" 

Your movements become faster and sloppy, so he grabs you by the hips to slow you down. 

"You know what I think?" He says, in between wet open mouthed kisses to your breasts, "I think you are a freak. You just didn't know it yet." He chuckles darkly, and sucks hard at one of your nipples. 

Your moan is loud and bordering on pornographic as you rut yourself against him harshly, all pretence of keeping quiet forgotten as your stomach tightens again in thick knots of pleasure. 

"Oh Eddie, I'm- I'm gonna cum oh fuckfuckfuck!" 

It all undoes at once as you release and clench around nothing, pussy throbbing with ecstasy. The bones in your body seem to disintegrate, muscles a distant memory as you flop against him. 

Eddie's not done. 

"Come on sweetheart, just a little longer." 

He encourages your hips to move again as you lay on his chest, skin glowing with perspiration. You can only grunt in response and start grinding against him again, the feeling so intense it has you clenching your teeth with pleasure pain. 

"That's it, fuck, I'm so close. There's my good girl, just, oh shit, little more." 

His praise bubbles through you and you speed up to meet his rutting hips, your slick sticking to the tops of your thighs. 

"Feel so good sweetheart, oh shit!" 

Lifting your head, you do it just in time to watch Eddie's eyes screw shut, mouth panting open with pleasure as he holds your hips in a death grip. His cheeks and neck are flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing. You press your lips to it softly, leaving feather dusted kisses over his neck and jaw as he comes down from his glowing high. 

"Holy shit." He laughs into you, kissing the top of your head over your hair. 

"Indeed" your reply is breathless as you melt into his front, attempting to ignore the stickiness. 

"As much as I'm enjoying you naked on top of me, I need to, er-" He gestures vaguely at himself with one hand. For a minute you think he's just going to go, but instead he wriggles out of the sleeping bag and whips his boxers down. 

You sit back on your heels, mouth agape as he casually cleans his spend with his underwear, wiping at the matted pubic hair. He's big; you could feel him under you but now you're faced with it you fear your eyes may bug out of your head. 

Glancing down, you can see some of his cum escaped its fabric confinement; a few drops glisten on your lower abdomen. Curiosity gets the better of you as you gather it on your fingers to feel the consistency, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. It's stickier than you thought. You bring your thumb to your mouth and suck the excess off. It's salty, and strange, but not unpleasant exactly. 

When your eyes meet again Eddie looks awestruck, staring at you with the queerest expression on his face. 

Embarrassed at being caught, you hide your hand behind your back as if scolded. 

"Sorry, was that wrong?" 

"No, fuck no," he chuckles, looking away, "just have to stop looking at me like that sweetheart." 

"Why?" 

"Hell, 'cause you're making me hard again." 

"Oh." 

You shyly put your head down and settle back down in the sleeping bag's warmth. To your amazement Eddie gets in with you. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I thought you said I could stay? Or you had enough of me?" 

"N-no, I just… well, you're naked." 

He laughs hard at that. 

"So are you." 

Nothing about this seems to phase him, but your mind is swirling around and around. You'd just had your first orgasms ever, and now you're going to be sleeping naked with a man. With Eddie Munson.  

He's so much warmer now, skin hot to the touch. Hesitantly, you rest your hand on his chest. He pulls you close, picking up your little camp light with the other hand, fiddling with it briefly before offering it to you. 

"Can you switch this thing off?" 

You reach and press the button, plunging you both into darkness. 

"Night sweetheart." 

"Night Eddie." 

********************

Early morning light wakes you, filtering through the tent fabric, coating everything in a warm glow. 

Eddie is still here, laying on his back, snoring softly with you cuddled to his chest. You'd hate to admit it, but you were glad. Glad he didn't run off in the night. Glad that last night had actually happened and wasn't just your over active imagination playing some cruel joke. 

Laying there, feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you take a second to really think. 

What was actually happening? A part of you is frightened; scared that maybe Eddie sees your virginity as a challenge. Maybe that's why he stayed? You were staying another night after all. Or maybe this is a little holiday romance, something to keep him occupied whilst he's away. You'd had one before at band camp; nothing serious, just kisses and cuddles and radio silence on your return. 

What were Robin and Steve going to say? You contemplated waking him up right now to sneak him back to his own tent, but that thought went straight out the window when you caught the sound of their tent being unzipped. 

A soft bash to your tent startles you and makes Eddie snort himself awake. 

"Hey guys I'm making coffee! Come and join us!" 

Robin sings out and walks away to fuss over the fire it sounds like. 

Oh Holy shit balls. Hey guys?? She knew Eddie was here. And if she knew, Steve knew. 

Eddie smirks down at you as you stare at him with wild panic in your eyes. 

"Guess our little secret is out sweetheart." 

Before you can say a word he's unzipping the sleeping bag and fumbling about for his jeans, slipping them clumsily onto his legs. 

"Eddie!" You whisper urgently. He just chuckles. 

"What, want me to cut a hole in the back of the tent? Tunnel out?" 

He's got a point. 

"Eddie, please just don't-" 

"Hey, I ain't one to kiss and tell, relax." 

Before you can say another word he's perching a cigarette in between his plump lips and making his way out of the tent. 

Fuck. 

You pull on your clothes hastily, a skirt and t-shirt, and slide on your sneakers, attempting to untangle some of the messy bed head that had been created during the night. 

It's now or never. 

You exit the tent, attempting to look as casual about it as you can. 

"Morning guys." 

Steve smiles at you. 

"Howdy cowgirl." 

"Hi?" 

You return his greeting, utterly confused, but by the sound of Robin shushing him violently and Eddie coughing on his cigarette you can only assume he meant something by that which went over your head. Robin breaks the tension, talking a mile a minute. 

"Hey sleepy head! You want a coffee? I just made it over the fire. Crazy! I know it took forever. It'll wake you up. Not that you need waking up you're up and about and it's early! It's not like you had a long night. Well you might have how would I know anyway here's your coffee!!" 

Seems you might have gotten a little loud, why else would Robin be breaking the sound barrier? You don't say a thing, just smile gratefully and take your coffee, entirely avoiding Eddie's eyes, and try to wish the blood away from your darkening cheeks. 

"So, we thought we might have a swim in the lake in a couple hours when it's warmer, you in?" 

Steve asks and you nod, aware your voice right now is not to be trusted. 

So, after a little breakfast and small talk about the cold last night, which you put a particular emphasis on to try and explain away your little situation, you all go and change into your swimwear. 

In your tent you lay out your usual one piece, the plain black one you always wear with the troop, and the other set. The bikini you bravely bought but never wore, deeming it far too skimpy for camp. But this wasn't girl scouts. 

God damn he's already seen me naked, come on, be brave. 

Skimpy number it is. You wear it underneath your clothes and grab a towel and a book, readying yourself to join the others. 

Eddie and Steve walk ahead, talking obnoxiously loud; something you're quite glad of. At least they aren't whispering about you. 

Robin walks side by side with you, practically vibrating. 

"Just, whatever you wanna say, say it before you explode." 

The voice that exits her mouth is so high pitched you're surprised dogs didn't start barking. 

"You had sex with Eddie Munson!" 

"I did not!" 

"Totally did, we saw you!" 

You stop in your tracks, mouth hanging open.

"What the fuck Robin!" 

"Sorry, we didn't actually like, see you see you, we saw your shadows, 'cause of the light in your tent." 

"We- I- I mean, we didn't, like, have sex, we just- did something else." You settle at lamely. 

"Are you going to? He really likes you." 

You scoff at that, continuing your walk. 

"He's just trying to get in my pants, take my virginity. I doubt he'll even talk to me after." 

Robin's hand shoots out to grab your arm. 

"Oh, you don't know, do you?" 

Feeling utterly confused, you turn to face her. 

"What are you going on about?" 

"Eddie likes you, he had a crush on you in high school. He was the one that suggested inviting you and nearly killed me when I actually did." 

Your world turns sideways in your mind; everything is upside down, thoughts smashed, memories cut to ribbons in their wake.

"Huh? How- what?" 

"He was telling Steve like a week ago, I was listening in and opened my mouth as per usual. I tried to tell you, remember?" 

You rack your brains trying to come up with answers when a light bulb switches in your head. 

"Hang on, you said Eddie wanted me to go before, didn't you? I honestly thought you were just joking with me, I didn't think he knew who I was!" 

You reach the tree line and see the two boys a little further on, just on the tiny beach leading to the lake, stripping off their clothes. 

"But he was so- so sure of himself!" 

"Oh he's always like that. Pretty sure it's an act, he's actually super sweet when you get to know him." 

You look up and stare at Eddie in his swim shorts. He'd been naked last night, but with the low light and distraction of seeing his privates for the first time you hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him all over. 

He was lean and tall, but there was a broadness to his shoulders and a sinew to his muscles that made him stand out. Tattoos littered his frame, more than you thought he had but the detail was lost at this distance. You were walking closer, still staring at him, when he captures you. Smiling that smug grin of his he holds his arms out as if on display. 

"See something you like sweetheart?" 

On the edge of shying away, you look down; but then you remember Robin's words. He's the one with the crush on you. Feeling a little braver, bolstered by that thought, you walk closer, a couple of feet away from him, and stop. 

"You look really good Eddie." 

Pulling your t-shirt over your head, you smile at Eddie's reaction. Clearly not expecting such a bold move from you, his cheeks and neck are flushed pink. For once he seems speechless. You slip your skirt off and away, kicking it to one side. 

This leaves you in your tiny baby blue triangle bikini, with delicate daisies embroidered on the hem. For once, your cleavage is fully displayed, and the ties for the bottoms ride high on your hips. You slip two fingers under each tied side and pull them up ever so slightly. 

Eddie's eyes dart down and back up again, and you swear you see him swallow thickly in his throat. 

"Well, you swimming or not handsome?" 

Without a further glance you kick your shoes off and wade into the chilly water. 

OK, keep calm, just look at him now. 

Risking a quick peek back, you see him standing gormlessly on the sand, mouth hanging open. He looks so dorky, so unlike the Eddie you've seen so far that you giggle aloud. 

Steve calls out to him, already in the clear water. He's stumbling into the lake after you then as if a fire was lit underneath him. Robin makes her way in too, and pretty sure you're laughing and splashing each other in earnest, the boys taking turns in dunking each other underwater. 

Steve keeps screaming about his hair, which just makes you all laugh that little bit louder. Soon he's moping about it and swims off surprisingly fast. Robin says she wants to dry out and wanders back to the beach to read a little, leaving you and Eddie alone. 

He swims straight to you, bodies a couple of inches apart. Suddenly the water doesn't feel so cold, warmed by the heat he seems to pull from you just by being close. That ache is there again, wanting to be filled by Eddie. You try and shake the thought away. 

"Seems a little skimpy for a scout leader," he says, gesturing at your two piece. 

"Well, I don't wear this one with the troop," you reply, attempting to look blasé about it. 

"So, wore this just for me, sweetheart?" 

You shrug, but know your eyes betray you, honesty etched into the look you give him. 

"You did, didn't you? That's cute," he responds to his own question, reaching a hand up to hold you by the waist. All of a sudden his breath is in your ear, his other hand reaching up to your chest. 

"You look hot by the way, I like the little flowers," as he says it he runs a finger over the hem of your bikini bra making you shudder. 

"Eddie," you whisper, meaning to scold him but it just comes out a little too breathy for that. 

He continues to whisper in your ear, each word sending a butterfly loose in your swirling stomach.  "Wondering if I can stay in that tent of yours again. To stay warm?" 

You laugh, turning to face him. "That's not all you want and you know it." 

"Yeah?" He comes closer, lips so close to brushing yours, holding your chin between thumb and forefinger. You clench your thighs together as your eyes flutter shut. 

"Seems you want more as well," he laughs, pulling back from you. The frown that appears on your face tells him all he needs to know. 

As he moves away, his hand drops down, knuckles dragging slowly over your nipple, already pebbled by the water. 

"Maybe later princess." 

He turns to get out of the water. Furious with how forward he just was you shout after him. 

"Eddie, you are such-" 

"A cocky mother fucker?" He shouts back, stealing your thunder. 

You clench your fists, nearly losing it treading water, and decide to swim away to cool off. 

You're finding Robin's words hard to believe. He still seems so confident; maybe his little chat with Steve was a rouse to get you here so he could tease you. If he has liked you all this time, maybe it's just a sexual thing. Seduce the band geek. 

When the ache between your thighs is lessened by the burning muscles in your arms and legs you swim back to shore and dry off, laying on your towel to read. 

It's like the universe has it in for you today. A few more pages into your fantasy book and suddenly there's a sex scene. Usually, you'd just skim over the 'fruity bits' as your mom called them but now? Now it was as if Eddie had altered your brain chemistry and you found yourself absorbing every word in detail, thighs clenched together almost to the point of pain. 

"What you reading?" 

You jump visibly and look up to see Eddie couching over you, sodden locks leaving pitter patter drips on your legs. 

"Eddie, you're dripping." 

He smiles mischievously. 

"Am I making you wet, sweetheart?" 

You roll your eyes and replace your bookmarker, putting your book down to one side. 

"Yes, Eddie, I'm soaking wet for you." 

Triumph flashes over your features as you take in his wide eyes; so shocked at your reply he's nearly choking on air. 

"You are strange Eddie. You can give it but you can't take it, can you?" 

His eyebrows raise and he attempts to cover his flustered appearance. 

"I'm just surprised, I thought you were a good girl." 

Ignoring your heart thumping hard in your chest at those words, you shrug. 

"And here I was thinking it was because you've had a crush on me since high school." 

Eddie opens his mouth, and promptly closes it. When he speaks again it's quieter, almost like he's embarrassed. 

"Who- how did-" 

"Robin." 

"Of course." 

He stares at you then, all bravado gone. A moment passes where you both try and work out what this means, what the other is thinking.

Eddie coughs and stands up, breaking the spell. 

"We're heading back to have lunch, if you wanna come." 

He walks off then, not a further glance at you. Wondering if you upset him somehow, you gather your things and head back to camp. 

********************

Later that evening, you're huddled around a campfire again having a couple of beers; or, in the case of Steve, several beers. Eddie had been civil, nice even, but there was no edge to him right now. You're not sure if you miss it or not, realising that you had actually grown fond of the push and pull between you, and that grin of his. 

He'd disappeared at one point, and returned a little later with his acoustic guitar; beginning playing a little aimlessly, just background music to your tiny circle. He played beautifully; it really was mesmerising to watch his fingers dance over the strings. 

"Play me a song, Eddie." You say, before you realise you were saying it aloud. 

"Yeah?" He flashes a small smile and you encourage him by placing your hand on his knee. 

"OK, just for you then sweetheart." 

He breaks into a rendition of Should I Stay Or Should I Go, by the Clash. You're almost certain it's a jab at you because of last night and your failure to make your mind up. You don't mind; listening to the rest of the lyrics you realise you're hoping he means more than just a little in-joke. If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time.

When he finishes you all clap, Robin as quickly as a bird's wings flutters, and Steve just a little too loudly, probably due to too much alcohol. 

"Thank you Eddie, that was brilliant." You smile softly at him. 

"No problem sweets." He moves to put the guitar away but you wave your arm at him. 

"Can I play something?" 

A sharp intake of breath rings out from Steve and Robin but you pay it no mind. Eddie looks at you like he's sizing you up. Seems he comes to the conclusion that you aren't just going to pull some rockstar move and smash it on the ground, he passes it to you carefully. 

You take it reverently in your hands and get comfortable with it, tuning the G string slightly as it was a little off when you heard it. 

An idea springs to mind and you grin deviously to Robin over the fire, a grin which is reciprocated. She knows what you're about to do. The Band Camp thing.

You start to play the very beginning of a song extremely loudly, singly wildly off key.

"Kumbaya, my Lord-" 

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Eddie shouts, lurching a hand toward you to clamp over the fret. 

"I'm kidding!" You giggle, prying his fingers away. Robin's laughing and Steve looks like he's about to burst, swaying in his seat. 

"OK, no funny business." 

"Not unless you ask for it." You wink, and start to play what you had intended all along. 

"One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all…"

You lose yourself in the song, the melody. When you were younger you had just assumed it was nothing but a song about Alice in Wonderland. You knew better now, but it was fun to play and it suited your voice. 

As you came to the conclusion your eyes fluttered shut and you sang out the last couple of lines like no one was even there. 

"Remember what the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head!"

Whooping and clapping finally reaches your ears as you open your eyes. Robin is going insane; Steve is shouting but it sounds slurred. Eddie just looks stunned as you pass his precious guitar back to him.

"You're incredible sweetheart." He looks genuinely impressed, staring at you with such intensity it makes you squirm. 

"It was OK, my strumming's a little sloppy." 

"But your voice! Jesus Christ, I've got goosebumps. You should sing, like, all the time." 

You laugh, swatting him with your hand. 

"I think that might get a little annoying." 

"I'd love to listen to it all the time." 

The sweet moment is broken by Robin gagging loudly. 

"Munson that was so cheesy I'm gonna hurl." 

He just shrugs, unbothered, and puts his guitar away. You didn't think it was too cheesy. In fact, you're breathless, thoughtless. The ache was settling back in, so deep in your bones there was no willing it away. It was clear; you needed him. Biblically. 

As that realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, a soft thud breaks through to you. Steve has fallen backwards, already snoring. 

"Well, looks like he needs to go to bed. Give me a hand guys." 

Eddie stands up and lifts Steve bodily round his waist. Robin and you hover nearby, but he doesn't need your help after all. 

Steve's giggling childishly, slurring words together. 

"Don' wanna go bed, wan' sing too!" 

"Sing in the morning, big guy." 

You help Robin tuck him into his sleeping bag, as Steve mumbles Kumbaya under his breath. 

Robin huffs. "I'll take it from here," and quieter, just to you, she whispers, "I'm putting earplugs in, go have fun." 

"Robin, I-" 

"Shhh you'll wake the baby. Just go, go!" 

You leave the tent and see Eddie sitting by the fire, rolling a joint. 

"Erm, Robin's going to bed too." 

"Oh?" He looks at you, quirking one eyebrow. "Are you?" 

"I'm not tired." 

That shit-eating grin of his is back, tugging at the corners of his mouth slowly. 

You sit down, right next to him, knees touching. He finishes rolling, licking it closed with a pointed tongue you can't help but stare at. 

As he starts smoking, you finally let loose what's been on your mind all day. 

"Why did you act funny with me? After I said you have a crush?" 

He huffs a little laugh, blowing smoke through his nose. 

"I thought that was obvious. I was embarrassed." 

"Really? I didn't know Eddie Munson could get embarrassed." 

He takes another drag and looks away. 

"Yeah, well it happens. I don't like people knowing too much about me. Rather come across as mean and scary and-" 

"-cocky?" 

"Ha, yeah." 

It's quiet again, but not a loaded quiet. You feel comfortable, almost enjoying the silence; just the slight rustle of pine needles in the breeze, and an owl hooting far away. 

"You want some of this?" 

Eddie's touch pulls you back to the moment, rough fingertips grazing you. The touch burns again, but differently this time. This time you melt under it. 

"Can you, do that thing?" You ask in a small voice. 

He smiles wickedly, straightening his legs out. 

"Come here" He says as he pats his lap. You straddle him awkwardly, not sure if this is what he meant, but a firm hand grabs you by the ass and shifts you closer to him so your chests are flush. 

"Like this?" You ask quietly, breathing the question. 

"Just like that baby." 

He takes a long toke and beckons you forward with one finger. When you're in range, nose lightly brushing his, he brings your chin toward him with one firm hand and presses his lips to your mouth. 

Stiffening with surprise, you quickly soften, disarmed by his lips. You part yours and he breathes the smoke into you, allowing you to inhale deeply. Breaking away, you exhale the smoke downwards and look into his deep eyes. 

"Do it again." 

He bites his lip and smiles, flashing his teeth. He repeats the gesture; taking a pull, smashing his lips to yours and breathing into you. He doesn't let you pull away to breathe out; instead he presses his tongue into your mouth. Smoke burns your nose as you submit to him, the kiss becoming filthy and desperate as he grips onto the flesh of your ass. 

Finally he lets up, if only to breathe. You're both panting, electricity in the air passing between and through you. 

"I like it like that." You smile, hand resting on his chest. 

"You keep surprising me sweetheart." He responds, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips. 

A fuzziness rushes through every nerve, all of your body crying out, singing for him. 

"You know, I don't mind cocky Eddie." 

"Yeah? I thought I annoyed you." 

"A little. But it kinda turns me on." You respond, rolling your hips into him.

"Oh fuck sweetheart," he roughly grips you, forcing you to do it again, "you drive me fuckin' crazy." 

He's on your neck, kissing and licking at you almost tenderly. 

"Eddie, please," you whisper, mind abandoning any clarity as he kisses you. 

"Please? What do you need, sweetheart?" 

How can you answer? What do you need?

"Eddie, I-I need you, please," you whisper into his ear, rocking against his hardening bulge. 

He bites down on your neck, eliciting a gasp to spill from your lips. 

"Tent." Is all he manages to say, and you stumble upwards on wobbly legs, to lead him to it. 

Fumbling for the zip, you just about get inside it when you feel his hands on you gently pushing you forward. A small touch is all it takes and you're falling onto the air bed, knees bending as you collapse face forward. 

He's on your back before you can think, firm arms caging you in from behind. 

"You need me? Really?" 

You nod, squirming underneath him, a small hand curling around his forearm. 

"Dreamed about you saying that, fuck." He whispers, lips pressing to your shoulder, "turn around." 

You can't find it in you to not comply. Wobbling the mattress, you twist to face him, engulfed in the intensity of his stare, illuminated by the fading light emanating from the fire. 

"Say it again." It's soft, but ironclad in the centre. 

"I need you Eddie." 

"Fuck" He huffs, moving down your torso, pulling your t-shirt up so it kisses the edge of your breasts. He looks up at you with pleading eyes; a look that turns your insides to mush. 

"Can you turn the light on? I need to see you." 

He sounds so desperate, so in need that you waste no time in grabbing your camp light and switching it on, bathing you both in cool white light. 

As he's pulling your top up, you assist and pull it over your head, flinging it to a corner. 

"You are really beautiful." He says, drinking you in with his eyes, as a calloused hand strokes between the valley of your breasts. You slide under his confident touches, getting more anxious by the minute. 

"Can I taste you?" 

You nod, and he unbuttons your skirt, pulling your panties down with a roughness that makes you flinch. You're entirely exposed. 

"I've wanted this, wanted you, for a long time." 

You wriggle underneath him, and reply. "Didn't you get me like this last night?" 

"This," he says, gesturing to your revealed flesh, "this is different." 

You don't quite get it and want him to explain further, but his lips are on your nipples and all that comes out of you is a heady moan. A firm knee pushes your thighs apart and you bend to his will, allowing him to kiss down, and down, leaving hot pressured mouth trails to your stomach. 

When his lips meet the tops of your thighs you cry out his name. 

He understands, slipping his tongue between your folds and licking at your clit with pointed precision. 

"Oh fuck!" 

A chuckle emanates from his throat as he doubles his efforts, flicking and suckling at you in earnest. Thick fingers tease your entrance and one slides into your glistening opening, pumping slowly. 

It shocks through your body, setting loose tendrils of pleasure so profound it's almost a religious experience. He prods another finger at you, sliding it next to the first and it burns, making you hiss. 

Eddie mumbles platitudes into your pussy, telling you how good a job you're doing, how proud he is, how you're a good girl. His good girl. 

The tension is unbelievable, clenching every muscle as your breath comes in short pants.

"That's it sweetheart, sing for me." 

The fingers curl, stroking something incessantly inside you that rips a sultry groan from deep within your chest cavity, and without further warning your orgasm washes through. It collects and expands, a force of nature that flies out and collides like stars in the universe.

Your back falls to the air mattress, and that's the only signal you have that it ever left. You feel soaked in your own juices, thighs uncomfortably wet. 

Eddie hovers over your face. You're not quite sure when he got there. 

"That OK sweetheart?" 

You don't reply, you can't. Your response can only be carnal, feeding into the biting, gnawing need that still refuses to lessen its grip on your core. Bringing shaking hands upward, you wind them into his hair and pull his face forcefully towards yours, tongue slipping in to taste your slick in his mouth, groaning at the tangy sweet flavour. 

He collapses against you, full weight of his lithe body pressed into yours, but it's not enough. Pulling away and leaving less than an inch of space you voice your frustration. 

"Eddie, please, I- I want you. I want you inside me, please." 

Eddie shakes his head for a second, then deep brown eyes seek yours for any doubt, and come up empty. 

"Are you sure sweetheart?" 

The nod you reciprocate with is painfully fast, hurting the muscles of your neck. He looks uncertain, but discards his clothes, kneeling in front of you in his boxer shorts. 

"I need you to be sure. I can't give it back." 

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him the view of you open and ready for him. 

"Please." 

Underwear has never been discarded quicker. He has his cock in his hand, sliding on a condom from his crumpled jeans at record speed. A second later and he's towering over you, nose brushing yours and dick lined up to your sopping entrance. 

His tip breaches you, so much thicker than his fingers, and you wince. You can tell he's trying to be careful, pushing into you slowly, watching for any signs you want to stop. 

You're so full, and he just keeps going. A moment later and you let out a little startled cry as a sharp pain shoots from deep inside. 

"You OK sweetheart?" He stops his movements, staring at your face with a worried expression. 

"I'm fine, just, go all the way" you manage through gritted teeth. 

He slips the last of it deep, deep inside as you yelp at the suddenness. Then, he's still, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers with his over your head, his other arm holding him perfectly motionless above you. 

"That's it, you're OK, so fuckin' tight, fuck," he says to you, kissing your cheek. It burns, the feel of him, but a fullness is beginning to overtake that ache. 

"You know, I thought you were afraid of me in high school." He half laughs, kissing the tip of your nose. It's such a sweet gesture from the so-called frightening man that you giggle a little too. 

"I was," you admit, staring into his deep eyes.

"Then, we come here and you look like you're gonna eat me alive. Then, you're all innocent, and now… fuck, I can't keep up." 

You appreciate what he's doing, talking to you, distracting you from the pain. It helps; it's settled into a dull throb and your need from him is outranking it. 

"Eddie, you can move." 

With a peck to your lips he pulls out a little and thrusts back in, setting a slow and steady pace. 

This is so much better than his hands, or his tongue. On every thrust he's massaging at something that makes you moan, again and again. 

"You're doing real good sweetheart, my good fuckin' girl." 

All of a sudden you feel it, all of it. His lean weight comforting over you, the squeeze of his fingers in yours, the throb of his member inside you, his words. It's all too much. Your eyes gloss over and a tear works its way down your temple. 

"Oh shit, you want me to-" He starts as he slows down a little. 

"Don't you fucking dare, please, please, I-I need-" 

He grins at you; that self satisfied look that turns your legs to jelly. 

"What do you need, sweetheart? Whatever you want, I'll give it to you." 

"Harder Eddie, oh God!" 

He snaps his hips into you with much more force; once, twice, three times and you scream his name, pussy clenching him hard, every muscle tense. As everything unravels you go limp, whimpering at the pulse that you can feel pounding in your core. 

When your eyes finally decide to open, he's leaving kisses as light as a butterfly's wings on your cheek. 

"Woah," is all you can say, between breathless giggles. Tears are falling but you don't care enough to wipe them away. 

Eddie unlatches his hand from yours and does it himself. 

"That was so hot. You need to do that again," he whispers, beginning to grind into you slowly.

"I nearly died Eddie, it might finish me off!" 

He laughs back, but doesn't quit; hips still driving into you leisurely. 

"What's life without a little risk?" 

You stare up at him, biting your lip, a question on the tip of your tongue that you're too nervous to ask. 

"What is it?" He asks, brow furrowed, as if you were about to ask him to stop. 

"Can I… wait, don't worry." 

He does stop then, to put his hand to your face and stroke you with his thumb.

"Hey hey hey, come on, what baby?" 

You whisper it quietly, voice small and second guessing. 

"Can I try, erm, being on top?" 

You're surprised that Eddie's face didn't split in half from the sheer wideness of his grin. 

"Holy shit, yes, please." 

He winds his arms underneath your frame and flips you so fast your vision blurs, until he's underneath you. You sit up, his cock still buried within, and you gasp at the new angle. 

"Eddie, Jesus Christ!" 

Palms splayed on his chest, you control your breathing a little. This angle is devastating, pressing harshly against that place inside that has you throbbing around him. 

Eddie chuckles darkly as his hands slide over the flesh of your thighs, rubbing back and forth, until they work their way to your hips and pull you up ever so slightly, only to drop you back down again. 

"Just like that sweetheart, 'Kay?" 

He tilts his head to one side, that mocking tone fuelling the embers of your desire. Rising up on shaky knees you pull off him and slide back down, trying to find some semblance of rhythm. Your clit grazes his pubic hair on one pass and you nearly lose it completely, the feeling sending a bolt of pure pleasure up your spine. 

"Oh my God!" 

"Yeah? That good?" 

You hum and nod, words escaping you, now rolling your hips on each bounce to get that sensation over and over. 

Eddie's talking now, watching how much you writhe and whine at his words. 

"That's it sweetheart. Wanting to- oh fuck- ride me, on your first time. Oh yes, fuck, just like that- dirty, my dirty fuckin' girl." 

"Eddie, oh God, can you, fuck, please-" 

"What is it sweetheart? Anything, you can have anything." 

His words embolden you, and before you can hesitate your hands are gripping one of his and leading it to your throat. You're not sure why, but you know deep in your core that you need it. 

Eddie looks shocked by your moments but quickly recovers, fingers slotting around your throat, squeezing lightly at the sides. 

Speeding up, feeling the pressure of his hand on your windpipe, you throw your body into each movement. 

"Fuck Eddie, harder!" 

He squeezes and you let go of everything, breath leaving you. All composure, all thought. It's just you and Eddie, and his hand, and his cock. Screaming aloud, you fold almost double, collapsing into him with a shocked, delicate whimper. 

His fingers relinquish their firm grip, coming to rest on the back of your head in a comforting, tender hold. 

"I was right, you are a freak." 

Laughing aloud, you have just enough bones left in your neck to lift it ever so slightly. He looks surprised, sure, and really aroused, judging by his hooded gaze. 

"Are you not… done?" You ask, as you feel his impossibly hard length still throbbing inside you. 

"What can I say, I've got stamina." 

That smug face is back, a flash of canines and confidence. You'd roll your eyes if it wasn't so sexy. 

No time for a witty comeback though, as he holds you close to him and thrusts upwards with abandon. Colours swirl in your vision as you try to stay attached to reality, focusing on the feel of his skin, the pounding of his rhythm, and the light in his eyes. 

"Fuck I'm close, I'm so fuckin' close. You're, oh shit, so- oh God, can't believe you're letting me do this." 

Slack jawed and practically dribbling, you let him use you to chase his own release, trying to weakly meet his thrusts. A pulse deep inside is brought to your attention, and it's not yours. Looking at his face, you watch it awash with ecstasy as he holds you tightly and throbs his climax out. 

His muscles melt, holding you still but so loosely that the lack of pressure surprises you, as if you were only aware of how tight his grip had been at this very moment. 

The only sounds are the nightlife of insects around the tent, and panting, heaving breaths. Sliding off of him in an organic gesture, you curl up into his arms, finally feeling sated and at ease. 

Lips are pressed into the top of your head, kissing you over your hair. No words are spoken; none need to be. For a shining moment, this is all you need. To be held, and cared for. 

Minutes go by, and your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Before you drift off, Eddie breaks the spell cast over both of you. 

"Was that OK princess?" 

"That was incredible Eddie." 

He kisses the top of your head again, then seems to remember himself. 

"Fuck sweetheart, just, stay right there." 

Clambering to his feet he pulls the condom off, tying it in a knot and discarding it into a corner to be thought of later. He's back then, spreading your legs. 

'Eddie, you can't just-" 

"I'm just looking after you sweetheart. You got some tissues or something?"

Furrowing your brows, you point to your wash bag near the foot of the sleeping bag. He paws through it wordlessly, and brings out some tissues and wet wipes. 

"Sweetheart I'm so sorry." 

"What's wrong?" You ask, panic riding your words. 

"I've made you bleed." Eddie looks crushed, so upset at your prior pain, anguish etched into his face. 

"It's OK Eddie, it's normal." 

"You should have said. I'm so sorry." 

You laugh a little, touched by his concern. 

"I didn't know! It's alright, it doesn't hurt now." 

Placated slightly by your answer, he cleans you both up as well as he can, before slipping into the sleeping bag with you. 

A thousand questions perch on the edge of your tongue, but it's so warm, so cosy and right, that your body denies all words for a moment. 

When you feel capable of speech you look up at him. 

"Stamina, huh?" 

He flushes, looking down at your smiling face. 

"I may have tactically jerked off beforehand."

"When??" You giggle, fingers flirting over his exposed chest. 

"When I went to get my guitar." 

"Eddie, how did you know that-" 

"OK, OK!" He grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles before hiding behind it, "I didn't know, not for sure. You just looked so good in that little two piece, I couldn't hold it in." 

"Perv," you respond, but your eyes are soft. 

"Yep." 

Giggling, you slip into a calm, contented sleep in his arms.

********************

You wake up a little later than intended, no doubt exhausted from last night. The tent feels empty. Upon realising that Eddie's missing a dread settles in your stomach. Bile rises as you sling some clothes on. Maybe he's had his way with you and that's it.

Exiting the tent, you see he's just by the fire, trying to get it going again, a cigarette dangling from his pouting lips. 

"Oh would you just- come on!" He says as he angrily flicks his lighter, trying to get the wood to catch. 

You smile, relief washing over you, and walk over to help. 

"I'm begging, come on- oh, sweetheart," he looks a little sheepish as he speaks to you, mumbling around his cigarette. "I was gonna make you coffee and bring it to you but the damn fire won't start." 

You giggle, and rearrange the little pile, adding a few twists of paper to the base, and hold your hand out to him. He looks at you blankly for a second, then comes to his senses, placing the lighter in your palm. 

With one stroke the papers alight, and starting to catch the rest of the twigs. The couple of logs won't take long to catch. 

"Witchcraft." 

"Nope, just girl scouts." 

"You can go back in the tent if you want, I'll make you a drink." 

"Eddie?" 

"Huh?" He turns to you, pot of water in his hand. 

"Good morning." You smile shyly at him. He grins, placing the pot on the ground and stubbing out his cigarette. Strong arms slot their way around your waist and you fling your arms around his neck, grinning stupidly at each other. 

"Good morning. Good night?" It's framed as a question, and you know what he's getting at. 

"Great night." 

Smiling wider, he presses a kiss to your forehead. Puckering your lips to ask for a proper kiss, you hear a very loud cough. 

"Good morning love birds." Robin wiggles her eyebrows at you both. You move to break away from Eddie, but he steals a kiss anyway, and pulls you close to his side, arm firmly around you. 

"Is Steve alive?" He asks, looking at Robin. 

"Well, he got up in the night to throw up, just glad he didn't do it in the tent. He's dead to the world right now. He's been singing in his sleep you know. Nearly suffocated him with a pillow." 

You both laugh at that, and then hear a loud groan from the tent. 

Eddie glances at you with mischief and shouts out towards Steve's tent.

"Harrington! Wanna sing for us, big guy?" 

"Urgh." Is the only reply. Robin rolls her eyes and busies herself with the fire. 

After a while, the coffees are ready; you all attempt to rouse Steve but he's gone back to sleep, groaning whenever you call out to him. 

Then, it's just the sad business of taking down your tent. There's a special kind of melancholy reserved for such an occasion; pretty soon there's no sign at all that it was ever there. Afraid that your memories, your feelings, about last night would fade too, you walk over to Eddie who is perched on a stump fitting the last of his things in a bag. 

"Eddie?" 

"Yeah sweetheart?" He asks, still fumbling with his bag. 

Do you still like me? Do you want to see me after this? Was this all a dream?

"Can I get a ride back with you? Steve and Robin are gonna be a while." 

You gesture over to where Steve had finally emerged, whining and packing his stuff, tent still upright. 

"Sure, anything you need." He flashes a tight lipped smile and reaches to grasp your hand briefly. 

The ride back to town with him is chatty, even if it's only surface level stuff. Your rendition of White Rabbit had him fumbling around the glove compartment and pulling out a few older classic rock tapes that you happily listened to; music was a big part of your life, at least you both had that in common. His eyes light up whenever you talk about a band or song that he likes too, gesturing so emphatically with his hand you have to remind him to look at the road. 

Pretty soon you're pulling up to a crossroads, except Eddie pulls over instead. 

"What's wrong?" 

He huffs, smiling at you sadly. 

"If I keep driving forward I've got to say goodbye to you, take you home," he admits. Your heart flutters at the admission. 

"Where do you live, Eddie?" He looks confused, but points to the left turning. 

"Eddie, turn left." 

"Really?" 

"Really. I was supposed to stay at Robin's tonight anyway." 

His grin is downright manic as he pulls back on the road, making short work of the drive to his trailer. 

He bundles you out of the van and opens the trailer door, both of your bags heaved over one of his shoulders. 

The sight of an older gentleman startles you as he potters around the kitchen area. 

"Hey! This is Wayne, my Uncle. Wayne, this is my girlfriend." 

Your eyes widen as he gives your name to his uncle and you shake hands with him, the roughest hand you think you've ever touched, but the softest grip. 

"Pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm heading out today, so I'll see you two later I'm guessing." 

He waves and smiles fondly at the pair of you, and leaves. 

"Sorry, thought he would've left already." He explains, pulling you both to the back of the trailer and into what you assume is his room. 

Allowing yourself to be led, still feeling shell shocked, you perch on the edge of his bed as he dumps the bags on the floor. 

Eddie's talking, saying how he wishes he tidied before he left, how the trailer's not much but it's home, and his uncle…

"Eddie, wait." 

He stops mid flow to look at you. 

"Girlfriend?" 

"Well yeah? I mean, if you want to. I didn't ask, did I?" He flushes pink, hand reaching up to nibble at his thumb. 

"I mean, you don't know me, really." You shrink, almost folding in on yourself. 

"Hey," he sits down next to you, stroking your jaw with his finger, "I know enough. And I let you touch my guitar. We're practically married now." 

Lips press softly to yours, a delicate touch that has all tension flying from your body in a rush. 

"Eddie…" You whisper, giving him a butterfly kiss with the tip of your nose. 

"Hmm?" 

"You smell really bad." 

He laughs and grabs you around the waist, pulling you down sharply to lay on the bed. 

"So do you." 

"A point well made." A response, but you don't move, snuggling deeper into his neck. 

"So, I've got an idea. Let's have showers, get into some comfy stuff, and cuddle. Probably got a movie or two we can watch?" 

The normalcy of the situation is surprising, but most welcome. 

Smiling wickedly, you nip at his neck and whisper in his ear. 

"One condition: we shower together." 

He groans loudly, hands stroking at any skin he can reach. 

"Fuuuck, sweetheart, I've created a monster." 

You laugh, and hold him tightly. Eddie Munson isn't so scary, after all.

Taglist (just some people I thought might like this, hope you don't mind!)

@eddiesprincess86 @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @roanniom @usedtobecooler @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonfuxks

[couch-house]

If you've been following me for a while you already know I'm going to tell you to vote for @themetalvirus's Egghog AU in @sonic-au-collision. You know I love drawing those funny little guys. But I think it might be a good idea to actually get into why I find them so compelling! I think any good AU is in conversation with canon,and egghogs is a certified Yapper.

Let's start with our hero, Amy!

Our canon Amy can be characterized by her deep compassion and optimism. As well as how Sonic has inspired her hero crush and motivated her to go out and put that compassion to work herself!* Egghog Amy has that same compassion, but what if she had no choice in being the hero? She had no one to look up to and inspire her, just the crushing weight of necessity. An Amy put in canon Sonic's position, who relies on unceasing and perhaps inappropriate optimism, but is still worn down by the weight of the world. I like this take on her, an exploration of where "toxic positivity" can get you.

*I think the classic IDW Amy characterization is a good example of this. As well as Fleetway Amys origin story heehee

Despite the stress of it all, she still has the optimism to see the best in people and believe they can change for the better. Like, for example, her crush: Egghog Sonic.

Just like canon Sonic, Eggy is a headstrong hedgehog defined by his own moral compass and his need to have a pretty good time. But while canon Sonic is defined by his love of freedom, independence, and by his "coolness," Egghog Sonic has been raised in Eggman's trap of control. He's just as headstrong, but in the opposite direction. His adoptive family is just as important to him as canon Sonic's friends, but in opposition to the good of the world. Where canon Sonic is personally reckless to protect others, Eggy is careless with the safety of others in service to his and his family's needs. Canon Sonic is capricious and relaxed, even in the face of danger, while Eggy is restrained, emotionally stunted, and stressed at all times.

Personally, I think that Egghog Sonic's fighting style being based in ballet--associated with control, restraint, and exclusivity by wealth--opposed to canon Sonic's fighting evoking breakdancing--a sport associated with creativity, play, and its origins as an urban art--does a great job on its own of juxtaposing the two Sonics.

But as I mentioned, even with his morals and freedom in opposition to canon, Egghog Sonic still has that essential connection to the people he cares about: his close-knit (read: highly controlled) family.

Egghog Sonic's younger brother Silver has all of canon Silver's accidental dickishness and ruthlessness, but without the humbling experience of surviving in a ruined future to keep him in check. Born and raised with a silver (ha) spoon in his mouth, Eggy Silver would be killed instantly by canon Silver's upbringing. All his worst qualities have been encouraged (as opposed to canon silver facing consequences for and learning from his flaws) and Eggy Silver is a huge fucking bitch. You know when Silver mugged Tails in Rivals? Okay now imagine if he was raised to do that as a child soldier. Now imagine he gets anything he wants whenever he asks. Thats Egghog Silver. When Silver defects from the Eggpire, we see that appreciation for the world and its history grow back where it belongs. It gives a better appreciation to what motivates canon Silver's view of the world, and recreates it in a new way.

Also the irony of Mr. I Must Fight For The Future's fucked up AU version of himself being part of the cause of the ruined future.... its delicious.

Finally, the oldest brother (by like a couple months...). We all know canon Shadow's had a rough time of it RE: mind control, manipulation, having a whole game where he is asked to be everyones gofer... This is Egghog Shadow's life for a full 15 years. Gerald doesn't finish cooking Egghog, and Eggman is the one to dump him out of the tube and raise him to be the perfect chaos-weilding soldier. He makes liberal use of his ability to physically manipulate Shadow's artificial mind to keep him in line as an endlessly obedient servant. Of course, any Shadow meaningfully based in canon won't stay that way. Just as his canon counterpart breaks free from the demands of those around him to forge his own path, so does Eggy Shadow. Even in the fucking miseries, even without a Maria, Shadow is still will make the choice to walk his own path.

Well, not just his own path. Because while Shadow (esp post-06 Shadow) can be uncompromisingly independent at times, he is still often defined by his friendships. Specifically, his relationship to Rouge is given focus in this AU, being his one reprieve from the empire and ultimately his way out. Canon Shadow had Rouge and Omega by his side during some of his darkest moments and arguably that made all the difference to his arc. Their presence (yes, Omega is here too) during Eggy Shadow's suffering is all the more essential and highlights their roles in canon.

But of course, with greater miseries comes greater struggle to heal. Canon Shadow's neat freak nature gets reinterpreted as a trauma response--maladaptive perfectionism and OCD. (tbc, in the same way fan works often recognize that canon Shadow likely lives with PTSD as a result of his experiences, Egghog Shadow's OCD is presented as an appropriate consequence of the stressful environment he's been raised in.) I like this as an exploration of how Shadow handles stress and trauma, how it might change in different circumstances.

All that to say, Egghog AU is just done in such a compelling way that really grabs me and facilitates Rambling about The Parallels and such. And that I think makes for a GREAT AU. The exploration of Sonic's strong personal morals and headstrong...ness, the benefits and flaws of Amy's intense optimism and compassion, Silver's ruthlessness and meaner side, and Shadow's tendency to introspection and overcorrection... Again I say, a good AU is one that is in conversation with canon, and Egghogs is constantly talking about the fascinating conflicts created by these characters. And thats why you should vote #Egghogs4Eggver

[littlelovelunette]

sevika x vi x reader threesome😭 feel like they’d be SLOPPY and MESSY

Three Times The Fun

Contains: Smut, threesome, double penetration, overstimulation, clit play, nipple play, anal, cnc

You were severely mad at Sevika and Vi mainly because they had such different morals, they would argue over the simplest things and ruin date nights for you.

You were the pillow princess in the relationship.

They both would often fight for dominance but let's be real, Sevika is the ultimate dom and Vi can't help letting her dominance crumble, although you think it's mainly because she wants her pussy railed by Sevika's huge purple strap, too.

Whatever the case was, you were beyond angry because last night when you three were out together, Sevika got jealous because you were holding Vi’s hand more than hers. You knew she didn't like PDA too much but she didn't have to ruin that for you.

Sevika could've just communicated like any other healthy partner, but no.

Fuming as you returned to the shared apartment with the grocery bags in your hands, you opened the door and walked inside.

The house was awfully quiet, you didn't bother checking the rooms as you walked in the kitchen, putting the items in the cabinets and pantry.

After you were done, curiosity got the best of you and you walked inside the surprisingly empty bedroom. “Sevika? Vi?” You called but nobody answered back, as you were about to turn, suddenly somebody grabbed you from behind, muscular arms grabbing your wrists together with ease, duct tape perfectly binding your wrists together. “Wha-!?”

Your shock was cut out when you saw the hands, it was Vi. As Vi pushed you to the bed, she straddled your waist, layering the duct tape around your wrists to ensure you didn't escape.

“Got her, Sev,” Vi called out and Sevika walked out from behind the door, arms crossed. Sevika was wearing her beautiful big purple strap.

“What are you—?”

“Been such a brat lately,” Sevika said with a smirk, Vi was already pulling your clothes off your body, a happy grin spreading on her face as she saw your naked figure.

Sevika passed, what seemed like, a red strap towards Vi, it was huge. Likely 7 inches and real thick with ridges. It was similar to the one Sevika had, save for an inch smaller.

Wait, why were they both—...

Vi picked you up with ease, walking in front of the huge mirror that you had in the bedroom. Sevika walked up in front of you, kneeling to sloppily lube your holes, both holes.

“Don't do this,” You whimpered out, “I won't ever recover from this.”

With a smirk, Sevika shoved the dildo in your pussy, you let out a loud gasp, body lurching towards Sevika as Vi held your arms up.

“N-No, please, too much!” You managed to cry out loudly as you trembled.

The second dildo lined against your asshole, slipping in with ease due to the generous amount of lube but it was still painful enough to make you scream.

“HURTS! IT HURTS! VI-!... It hurts…” your screams were now just a sob, you knew they wouldn't cease unless you used your safeword.

It was a weird sensation, both the toys filled you up so much that you could feel the dildos grinding against one another with a layer of flesh in between. It was a weird tingly sensation, still good somehow.

You knew you were done for when they both started moving with a new found rhythm like never before. Your tits bouncing up and down in front of Sevika's face whose eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while she continued pounding in your pussy.

Your pussy was basically drooling over Sevika's massive dildo, each and every thrust coercing more liquid out of you.

Vi's grip on your waist and hands were tight as she thrusted in your clenching asshole.

“Please, stop, please, I'm breaking,” you sobbed.

“You'll take what we give you, doll,” Vi said, with a punctuating thrust in your asshole that made you gasp and clench your fists.

“You're doing well, shut up,” Sevika said, not too roughly though like she usually was, her thrusts alternating Vi’s.

Their thrusts were in complete sync, their determination to make you cum palpable as the red and purple dildos rammed into your holes. You sobbed, screaming out when it would get rougher until finally you squirted and Vi slowly pulled the dildo out.

“Your asshole’s gaping, angel,” Vi smirked a little as Sevika lowered you on the bed, hands still duct taped together, leaving you vulnerable.

“Please don't fuck me anymore,” you begged. Sevika looked at Vi who looked back at her and then Sevika nodded.

Vi picked you up, laying down and placing you on top of her, “Hands and knees, lovely,” Vi said, tapping your side to make her point and you obliged.

As you did, Vi started sucking on your nipples, hands playing with your clit and palming your other breast.

Sevika got on the bed behind you, slipping the dildo inside your asshole, “Take it, slut,” she slapped your ass, thrusting hard into your rectum making you gasp and whimper.

“S-Sevika,” you sniffled before a loud moan tore out of you.

Vi chuckled watching you fall apart in front of her very eyes, sucking and pulling your nipples while her other hand pinched and rubbed your clit.

“Baby, you usually get so wet getting your ass pounded?” Vi asked in a teasing tone, causing Sevika to chuckle too. You were in utter humiliation.

Sevika's thrusts got brutal and animalistic as she held the both sides of your hips, her strap starting to glisten from the amount of residue dripping from your asshole, the loud squelching and clapping sounds… it sounded so damn dirty.

Vi wiped your tears as she pulled your clit, earning another orgasm from you.

Sevika slowed down a little before completely pulling the dildo out. “Don't throw a tantrum in public, got it, hmm?” Sevika thrusted three fingers in your pussy making you drool.

Vi kissed you deeply, swallowing the spit leaking from your mouth, “Y-y-yes… got it,” you only managed to croak out the mere words before Sevika pulled her fingers out and Vi took the tape off your hands.

You were left trembling and leaking arousal all over the bedsheets. Both holes aching and twitching due to the relentless tortured inflicted on both ends.

You could hear the sound of the straps hitting the floor as both of them sandwich cuddled you.

“Did real good today,” Sevika huffed out, arms cradling you from behind.

“Mhm,” Vi chimed in, hugging you from the front.

“I hate you both so much…”

[ay0nha]

Please Forgive Me | Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

SUMMARY: You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. You were both slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

Where you and Robby explore the first steps towards Ho'oponopono.

PAIRING: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!attending!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.2K

WARNINGS: Canon-typical things, blood, death, smoking, Myrna, ANGSt-heavy, the "Kraken" mentions (mental health is no joke, I have opinions), seizure mentions (also no joke, although used humorously), plot driven by movie magic, reader getting physically hurt, flashbacks, arguments, fluff if you squint, word vomit, therapy session w/Kiara, mentions of terminal cancer, incarcerated patient, razor blades, glass, (let me know if I missed anything, I've been staring at this too long), etc.

Inspired by @skulandcrossbones's post, @xxdrixx's post, and @sunkissedburns' post. Also inspired by Joan Didion, that one Grey's episode, and other things I can't remember, so remind me if I missed things. CREDIT GOES WHERE IT IS DUE.

A/N: So I REWROTE this part because it was just Not It for me tbh. It didn't hold the angst/vibes I wanted it to, so please forgive me (*wink*) if this is confusing or jumbled, I just felt like this fit better for what I'm trying to do. Comments are HEAVILY encouraged; they truly keep me going and motivated to write. Many thanks to @hummusforthewin, @est1887, and @sunfairyy for helping me out! Enjoy.

prologue

“They all say ‘Life doesn’t work that way,’ ‘Live with the consequences and learn,’ ‘No one can cheat the system,’ but I did.” You paused, letting the admission be a placeholder. “Why would I regret that? They want to humanize everything; they just see wanting to die as a crime.”

Kiara always started with a baseline. It helped ease you into conversations you avoided. Yet, today the air was different. You came in with vexation. You kept storing up all that anger. You hoped for it to spill over. Otherwise, you’d drown in it. 

“And you don’t?” Kiara prompted. She was subtle with her interjections, learning your habit to retreat when prodded. 

You’d already mourned what could have been, what would not be, what you couldn't save. It was a daily practice. But this, what got you here, this was different. This didn’t come with the same leverage of sadness and authenticity; this felt radical even for you.  

“I’ve seen so much life and death that it’s become one and the same.” You continued. “I’m not trying to be clever, here…I just—” Another pause before you decidedly gave up. “—don’t get it.” 

Kiara hummed. She balanced her opinions well. She never pressed you too far, but you could tell that with your little progress, she needed to be more critical. 

“How poetic.” Kiara rested her hands on her lap. It was picture professional, minus the smirk settled on her face. “Yet another doctor who thinks they can control life—death. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”  

“Administration doesn’t see it that way.” You welcomed being brought down from a pedestal. It was the last thing any doctor’s ego needed.  “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Who doesn’t?” She challenged, eyebrow perked. “You gave Gloria more paperwork, but more than that,  she doesn’t have the time—or energy to evaluate your morals, frankly.” 

“Dana—

“Please,” Kiara laughed. 

You frowned. 

There was no point in arguing; you’d fallen for the bait you’d spent weeks avoiding. Kiara saw it firsthand, eyes always finding yours when you were both on the floor of the ED. It was easy to brush off, blaming time and urgency. 

Now, you were just stuck, trapped. Your eyes fled to the clock, its slowness insulting you. 

“Everyone’s eyes are always on me, waiting for me to crack with regret, with…guilt…” You held in the bitter laugh, knowing the reaction would be scribbled down. Your humor wasn’t always appreciated. “...but—nothing. I know what I did and I didn’t hesitate.”

As the topic shifted, the spacious room felt like it was suddenly collapsing in on you. You kept your breathing even. You learned young that nobody touched you when you looked sharp, but Kiara’s gaze could see through whatever facade you felt the need to put up. 

“If Robby is who you’re referring to…” She eyed you as she pressed further. 

“Robby?” You scoffed, echoing Kiara’s humor. “Please.”

“Your anger seems pointed.”  Kiara was specific with her words, adjusting in her seat. 

The office felt awfully small.

Robby stood far away from you, leaning against the opposing wall stiffly with hands in his pockets. His hair was a mess, a clear indication of the utter frustration he was in. 

Despite the distance, the tension between the two of you was palpable. He was absolutely livid.

Deservedly so. You should have listened to him and stayed out of it, but you didn’t—couldn’t. Now you had to simply stand and take whatever he was about to throw at you.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, preparing for a half-hearted apology. “I’m so—”

“You—” He straightened himself, finger pointed out in accusation, “—had one job. I asked you to stay out of it— no, I ordered you to stay out of it. And what the hell do you do? The absolute fucking opposite. The actual fuck were you doing?”

Robby’s eyes narrowed deeper, the sharpness of the glare hitting you right in the chest. You flinch. “What makes you think you can ignore the rules? Have you forgotten that I’m your attending? I—”

“Do not pull rank with me.” You snapped. So much for just standing there and taking it. “You know damn well I am just as competent as you are.”

“Competent doesn’t mean that you’re—” Robby paused, taking in a tight breath. His voice stayed level, a refusal to let his anger get the best of him. “You were reckless. Out of line. I have to pull rank if you choose to act like one of the students.  What is not clear here?”

 You can’t help the bitter laugh that burst from your lips. You had a meanness inside you, real as an organ. With a slit down your belly, it might slide out, meaty and dark, drop on the floor just so you could stomp on it. 

“You can pretend to be Adamson all you want, but this morning, you froze.” Low blow. But the ripple of emotion in Robby’s face was satisfying.“ So, sure, I’m fucking sorry for taking things into my own hands when you couldn’t.”

“This was not your patient, and you are too stubborn to understand that. Now she’s dead.” Robby kept going, “Gloria is expecting you this afternoon. You will listen to her if you want to stay here. Don’t fuck up again.”

You tried opening your mouth, but nothing came out; your face was too hot, too hurt, too full of rage. 

“I’m not angry.” A lie.

“What’s your diagnosis then?” Kiara was kind, her tone carrying her warmth. 

Just like most people in the ED, you struggled to show your appreciation for Kiara. She was always present and shared everyone’s bad days. She braved the follow-through once the doctors walked away after the patient stabilized. She not only took on the burdens of the patients, but also the doctors. 

The guilt made you prickle. 

“She was going to die anyway. By my hand or theirs.” You put it starkly. “I just made her fate more bearable…she deserved the dignity…” 

You had never addressed what you had done so directly. It always lingered as something you both just knew. Everyone knew. It was memorable. You sat in the quietness, letting your words sink in, remembering the day the Earth stood still. 

“...what I did was wrong. I was willing to lose my license—prepared even.” Your arms crossed across your chest protectively, your voice becoming hushed. “But Robby—Robby told me I was playing God..…can you believe that?”

The words came to you so suddenly, it felt like you’d lost your breath. They wrapped around you like a boa. You heard them when you slept, and they loitered until you rubbed the exhaustion from your eyes. It had never cracked down on you like this.

“And now, this—” You gestured around you. “It’s a Sisyphean act, never-ending, useless—whatever you want to call the write-up, the babysitting, the obligation, the—t-the…”

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Robby’s words mocked you. 

“You can convince anyone that I meant well. Robby, though? You’d die trying.” You jeered. “He expects me to be grateful for keeping me here. Prick.”

Kiara was proud; you could see it in the soft look she gave you. The foundation was finally laid bare to explore. 

Yet, you recoiled at your vulnerability. At your harshness. It shocked you, how gentle a tug it took to unravel everything that you built up. Truthfully, you were petrified. The core issue had been exposed, and you felt like a child throwing a tantrum. 

However, it took many years of vomiting up all the filth you’d been taught about yourself, and half believed, before you were able to walk on the earth as though you had a right to be there. You’d be damned to forget that because of him.

—

The ED was slow. 

No one acknowledged it; everyone was too superstitious to. 

The quiet no longer felt like rest. The weather consisted of sleet that kept everyone off the streets. All that could be done was to wait idly for those who were brave enough to come in and those who had no choice but to succumb to the danger of it all. 

The snow fueled your smoke break; it was a subconscious way to find warmth and stave off the anxiety that lingered from your morning with Kiara. Neither was remedied. Instead, your fingers were stiff from the temperature, and there was no relief from how the pit in your stomach grew. 

“I could fake a seizure.” 

“Too ‘boy who cried wolf’…” You shook your head. The strike of your lighter was motivated by agitation. On the first exhale of your newly-lit cigarette, you said, “It has to be a…casual—believable lie.”

“All this for what? Feelings?” Myrna gestured at the air with mocking disgust. “I know a thing or two about a crime of passion.”

“Robby’s allergic.” Something swirled in your chest, but you brought the cigarette to your lips to suffocate it. 

“Oh, honey, I knew you were stupid, but not that stupid.” Myrna cracked with humor. Her insults made you feel electric. Normal. They humbled every egotistical vein in your body. “Robby looks at you with nothing but feelin’.”

“That ‘look’ is….” Disgust? Resentment? Loathing? “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’d bend him over my knee for what he did to you.” Myrna carried on with her opinions, humoring herself as she continued. “I like big butts and I cannot lie…”

Your eyes sparkled with the image. You’d pay good money to see Robby’s face painted with discomfort. His self-control irked you, got under your skin without even trying. It used to drive a competitive friction between you both, one that was light, teasing, even. But it festered to the point it controlled you; you relied on proving a point. 

“Breach of duty, my ass.” She barked. “So you were a drug dealer, so what! I know plenty. God forbid you did something about healthcare in this country.”

“Myrna,” You warned. You wish you were just a ‘drug dealer.’ Instead, you became the judge, jury, and executioner.  “When are you going to stop bringing it up?”

“When you do something better.”  

“It’s temporary, anyways.” You said more to remind yourself. It hadn’t quite stuck as a mantra, but it was enough to get you through a shift. “Family emergency? No—Robby would call my sister and that’s—

“Find an obituary.” Myrna shrugged. “You’ve got four grandparents to choose from.”

“Can’t.” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought caused your lips to tingle with indifference. Deep down, you knew nothing would change.  “Used that one not too long ago, Robby’d sniff that out…”

“You asked me how to get him off your back: seizure.” Myrna snapped playfully, not letting your eyes glaze over for too long. “Give me a few minutes, I’m sure I can start foaming at the mouth.” 

“He’s already onto us.” You didn't have it in you anymore to struggle and fight and suffer; you wanted to enjoy the quiet when you could find it. You smiled. “‘Fruitcake,’ though—that always gets me through the day.”

“Happy to oblige.”  She snorted. “Now, if you really need him gone—I can make it look like an accident.” 

A laugh bubbled through your chest. “I’ll remember that for when I really need it.”

“Listen, girlie…” Myrna gave you the least offensive nickname in the ED. It was why you passed the dwindling cigarette to her; you always played favorites. “...whatever you do, don’t bet on a losing dog.”

You hummed in response. You didn’t need to look too deeply into her words, but you knew they’d ring true when things got too quiet, when you’d want to avoid them the most. 

“I’ve made that mistake before, and lemme tell you: not worth it.” She smothered the roach on her wheelchair, flicking the remains to melt into the snow. “Sad eyes comin’ in, twelve o’clock.” 

The hospital door popped the bubble created. The interruption was overdue. 

“Everything alright out here?” Robby’s voice was traced by the cold air, cautious enough not the call too much attention but aware enough to know you weren’t.  

“Just gettin’ some air.” Your sigh was heavy. Your day was not ruined. Your world was not over. Take a deep breath. It’s just temporary. 

“Patients shouldn’t be out here.” Robby's lips pressed together. You knew he wasn’t surprised, but entirely unimpressed. 

“I don’t clock in for another…” You looked at your watch. “...eight minutes. Not my circus, not my patient.” 

“Myrna.” He greeted her. Robby ignored you, nodding to the nurse who followed him out. “Please make sure someone keeps an eye on her.” 

Before being rolled past him, Myrna winked at you. “Fruitcake.”

Robby stayed quiet, head dipping with feigned politeness. 

You looked ahead, avoiding his eyes. It gave a moment for Robby to imagine the way your fingers deftly played with your lighter. The way your side profile was traced as you exhaled the smoke. The smell lingered, and his finger twitched with desire. 

From your peripheral vision, you watched Robby rock on his heels, wanting to say something. You didn’t smoke often, so he knew nerves formed the habit. His attentiveness made you nauseous. 

“Need something, doctor?” You snapped first. 

“Nicotine lowers the seizure threshold...” He hummed. You focused on Robby carefully, watching how his disappointment fed through his body language. “...but there’s no way Myrna can smoke with those handcuffs, right?” 

“Right.” Your tone was always tight around him. Sterile. “I’ll meet you inside.”

You meant to be firm. To give Robby no option other than to leave you to the cold. However, the more you spoke, the more he lingered. 

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” His hands were deep in his pockets, as if talking about himself. “Coffee’s fresh in the lounge.”

“I’ve got a few more minutes until the frostbite kicks in.” You clicked your teeth with sarcastic resistance. 

Robby left, his attempt futile. He only got a few strides away before bursting. 

“You’ve got to stop—” Robby rubbed his palms to his eyes. “Besides it being extremely unprofessional, you’re doing my head in. You fucked up. Accept it.” 

Your eyes widened. It was early for him to be fed up with you. It usually hit after the day’s first coding, or if Gloria hit below the belt. This was new. Anger rarely settled so explicitly in Robby’s voice. 

You were always quick to retaliate. “You think I enjoy this?” 

“I’m starting to think you do, yeah,” Robby egged you on. He’d come to his boiling point. “We save lives, we work with the circumstances given to us. We strategize. We treat. We cope—

“She swallowed razor blades—” You bit. Prepared.  “—then, a lightbulb, Robby! How’s that for coping, huh?”

“She wanted a break from solitary, do you know how many incarcerated—

“She did what she did because she had to.” 

“That is not for you to decide.” Robby provoked in a low voice. Hissed. “And neither was her death.”

“She was metastatic! What difference would it have made?” Your words were weak with exasperation. Yet again, a repeated conversation. “What I did was safe and comfortable. No one deserves to go through that in prison—”

“She would have received another round of radiation—”

“She was non-responsive to chemo for years.” You laid the well-known facts bare. The patient wouldn’t have made it to the end of the month. It was a surprise that the ED was able to bring her back. “Besides, you know prisons are the first place the shortages affect.”

Robby spoke to you distinctly. Professionally. He didn’t delve into morals or politics, but standards of care, something he was usually willing to be flexible on. He was the first to put himself on the line or take the hit for perilous risks. Yet, now he suddenly remembered standard treatment: evaluations that measure the quality and adherence to established medical protocols or best practices. 

“We did what we were supposed to do.” Those textbook methods always forgot how much empathy could treat. “You went rogue.” 

“This is more than that—”  The air stilled. This was new. Things haunted. Things existed long after they’d been smothered. “—and you know it.”

You remained leaning against the brick building. It’s frigidness bled through your thin scrubs. Yet, you could feel the warmth, the frustration, in Robby’s movement towards you.  

“What are you saying?” The lines of worry between his eyebrows deepened, and hands hands pulled at the ends of his stethoscope to stop fidgeting.  Yet, they couldn’t decide to settle with irritation or confusion.  

“I doubt you would’ve batted an eye for Abbott, Langdon—Jesus—even Whitaker.” You finally confessed the truth, your anger. “They’d get a slap on the wrist. Yet, I’m not allowed to be anything but perfect; you second-guess my every breath, Robby.”

You’d noticed it before, a pattern when Robby was sinking. The days were hard, the hours unrelenting. The times that were harder than others, his inclinations, conscious or not, took control. Robby moved on instinct, but it always revealed how he saw you. 

Now, he understood. You accepted your so-called punishment. You just expected more from him. Disappointment was never a welcome feeling, and it struck Robby sharply, painfully. He didn’t move fast enough to apologize, so you did. 

You pushed off the wall, the eight minutes up. “Forgive me that losing this patient only proved my point.” 

—

Mr. Krakozhia woke up. 

The sedation wasn’t monitored. The fault didn’t fall on anyone when the ED had resources spread thin; no available beds, never enough nurses, and emergencies that required split attention. 

No one volunteered to restrain the ‘Kraken.’ Robby declined Dana’s request for assistance, merely providing a verbal order for sedation. Nurses, inexperienced learners, and you were left to haphazardly fill the gaps. All your strength combined, you still received a boot to the mouth. 

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. You tongueed at the teeth that’s nerves felt stunned. All twenty-eight were accounted for, but blood spilled from your tongue and lip. 

“Oh, he got you—you alright, kid?” Dana laughed sympathetically, pulling you up from where you’d been knocked back. “I’ll keep ‘em off your back for a little. Take a break. You know the drill: direct pressure, cold compress.” 

You had a love-hate relationship with hospitals. You thought they were always too bright with a bleak atmosphere. There were phones constantly ringing, monitors always beeping, people coughing all of the air out of themselves; everything was too overwhelming to the senses.

So, your attempt to decompress, to stop your lip from throbbing against your heartbeat, was always found in the stairwell. They were rarely used and acted as a sound barrier to the city’s whelm. 

You sighed heavily, letting your head drop. 

The tears that fell from your cheeks left dark bruises on your scrubs. Quiet, like they always do. You wiped at your eyes; your tears felt like a burden. But they wouldn’t stop until they ran out. Then, you were still and silent. Because if you opened your mouth, you were afraid you'd never stop screaming.

“Hey—” 

You hadn’t heard the door creak. Or felt the hand that rested on your shoulder. It was the first time in a long time you didn’t flinch. The words I’m fine died before you could breathe them out. Instead, Robby met you at your level, sitting on the stairs next to you. 

“Let’s take a look.” Robby’s gloves were pulled on with dexterity. Your bloodshot eyes were wide, reading worry on his expression. Robby assessed you softly. Even softer when you winced.  “Tender?” 

“Dana told you where to find me?” You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your posture softening into something a little more tired.

“She could only hold me off for so long.” He pulled his gloves off, hands retreating tentatively. “Feeling dizzy, headache…did you hit your head?”

“No LOC, EOM intact, just a busted lip.” 

Your pupils were wide with stress, but they were equal and reactive. You knew Robby wouldn’t press further, but he was reading into every twitch and movement just in case he missed something crucial. But he knew not to misread your calmness, healthcare assault, accidental, incidental, or not, happened. 

For the past few shifts, you didn’t need to avoid Robby. He gave you space, still processing your last interaction. You wouldn’t admit it, as if felt hypocritical, but it was strange not having him close. Even his eyes had stopped tracking you, and it felt like something was wrong. 

It felt like your fault that one day you both woke up, no longer speaking the same language. You hadn’t heard from him since. You couldn’t translate how badly Robby wanted to tell you he knew you didn’t need to be saved, protected. That you needed to be found and appreciated. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Robby started, but you heard an undercurrent of hesitation. Nothing haunted him more than the things he didn’t say. “About what you said…”

You’d been thinking too. 

You knew he’d been trying to catch you for days. Weeks. But his irritability got in the way. Impatience for Gloria got in the way. He had trouble sleeping, and when he was awake, he was vigilant. Then, when you didn’t see him, you knew he carried his sadness to the roof.  

“Let’s not—not now, at least.” Your plea was soft. You cleared your throat, as if telling the tears that pricked your waterline to stop. 

“Okay.” Robby swallowed everything with that tight-lipped, polite smile and nod. That smile that he wore—it didn’t shine. Soft and a little sorry. It settled over guilt.

You needed to let go of the illusion that it could have been any different. Both Robby and you were slowly losing yourselves and your patience. Instead, resented for being weathered and callous. But the pain and hurt were still there; nobody acknowledged how it had gone so long ignored.

You were both stalling, not used to being so close for so long. You both desired one last deep breath, but the air was running out. You both didn’t know how to exist so softly. 

You heard a new tone when people asked how you were, a tone you had not noticed before and found increasingly distressing, even humiliating: these people seemed impatient, half-concerned, half querulous, as if no longer interested in the answer. As if all too aware that the answer will always be a complaint. 

You’d been trained to speak, if asked how you were, only positively. That was healthcare; you were not allowed to not be OK. You framed the cheerful responses. What you believed to be the cheerful response, as you framed it, emerged, as others hear it, more like a whine. 

Do not whine. Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone, you told yourself. 

You listened. 

You did not whine when hunger sawed your body in half. You did not complain when, after you worked for hours, trying to get the sound of a sentence right. You bled politely all over Pittsburgh. 

However, the cold was catching up to you. So was the exhaustion. It weakened your senses and put your emotions at the forefront. You wanted to be held, to be cared for in ways you couldn’t provide alone. Robby was familiar with the feeling, but was better at hiding the ache. 

Now, Robby could handle your anger. Anger was good. Anger meant that there was something he could react to, challenge. But your self-restraint dwindled. The smallest gesture of affection brought a lump to your throat, whether it was directed to you or at someone else.

So, Robby stood, hand reaching for yours. He had the awkward tenderness of someone who had never been loved and was forced to improvise. 

“Ready?” For the chaos.

He pulled you gently, eyes still roaming you for discontent. It felt good, as if one thing were normal. The rest of the shift, you knew he’d be back to lingering, back to playful chiding that would burn your skin, and watching you so closely for any pain he could relieve. 

It wasn’t a long-term solution, but this shift’s abatement. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You sniffed through your words, clearing any emotions that loitered. “I want a good case after that beating.” 

Once you stood, Robby was going to release you from what he suspected was torture. Yet, your grip tightened, palm to palm. You clung to his hand so that something human could exist in the chaos. Hand in unlovable hand, you stay attached until the buzzing took over at the nurse’s station. 

Robby understood why people held hands: He'd always thought it was about possessiveness, saying, "This is mine." But you had revealed to him that it was about maintaining contact, speaking without words, and saying, regardless of everything, "I want you with me, and don't go."

[satoruxx]

SAUDADE.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 3.7k words

✧ SUMMARY: canon au, set after geto leaves so lots of unresolved feelings, alternate between past and present, megumi and tsumiki cameo, satoru has a raging crush on you but you're blind, suguru also had a raging crush on you but you were still blind, slight angst bc canon jjk events, lots of longing on suguru's end, you're confused af, satoru PINES for you and shoko is so tired of him, but overall very fluffy

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: will i ever publish the actual canon au? who knows. this fic is written in that same au but it's just a snippet of their lives. if you've read angel on my shoulder, just know that's an alternate ending of this au where reader dies lol. but this is very sweet bc you don't die !! you and satoru love each other lots but suck at showing it. happy valentine's day everyone <33

you glance at satoru's giddy smile, wariness creeping up your shoulders before turning to shoko. "what's wrong with him?" you ask, shifting slightly from where you're leaning against one of balconies of jujutsu high.

"who knows?" she sighs, eyes flickering up to glance at the snowy haired sorcerer just barely before they turn back to you. "ignore him."

"hey!" satoru huffs, walking closer to sling an arm around your shoulder—casual, like it's something he doesn't have to think about. you grumble under the extra weight, shooting him a glare, but he's too busy smiling like he's up to something.

"so…" he grins down at you, eyes shining and full of mischief. "know what day it is today?"

you blink at him, trying to scour your brain. "what's the date again?"

satoru gives you a blank stare, before sighing heavily. "god you're slow. it's february 14th, stupid."

"oh," you reply blankly, relaxing because it's nothing inherently important. "so valentine's day?"

satoru's smile comes back full force—cheeky and blinding. "exactly! and when i went shopping today guess what happened?"

"what happened?" shoko asks boredly, shaking her head when she makes eye contact with you.

"well," he drags out the word, crossing his arms like he's pleased with himself. "i was walking along after picking up some sweets because—"

"because you have an addiction," you supplement, and satoru pauses to glare down at you, reaching out to flick a long finger against your forehead.

"it's not an addiction! and don't interrupt me! anyways—"

you smother a smile that shoko mirrors.

"—i was walking and then these two girls came up to me all smiley. like they were giggling and shit, right?"

"uh huh."

"and they started going on and on about how i was the most handsome guy they've ever seen. and then they asked how come i was walking around by myself on valentine's day."

you blink, suddenly feeling a strange mix of interest and irritation.

"so i told them that it's not really my thing and that i didn't have anyone to celebrate with anyway. and then they said it was actually a crime that someone like me was single on valentine's day."

you have to suppress a roll of your eyes, though you're not sure why.

"so basically the moral of the story is that i'm extremely charming and super good-looking too! and that girls love me!"

he looks at you, eyes scrutinizing your expression as you glance at shoko, unimpressed.

"that's it? that's your crazy story?"

"well you guys always say i'm full of it when i call myself hot! now i have proof that it's a universal truth!"

"well we're not stupid—" shoko rolls her eyes, hugging her arms to push away the cold as she leans against the railing. "—we know you're freakishly hot. you're just obnoxious and we like teasing you."

"ugh." satoru rolls his eyes, huffing as he stretches his joints. "you guys are ridiculous. and—"

he pauses, an odd expression crossing his face as he blinks in thought. then he's turning to you with the most smug smirk you've ever seen on him. "wait. you think i'm hot?"

you frown, lips parting in mild confusion. "huh?"

"that's what shoko just said. that you think i'm freakishly hot."

your brows shoot up, an unfamiliar rush of heat crawling up your skin. "but she said both of us! like it's just something that's obvious. i mean as long as you have eyes anyone can see—"

"oh so it's obvious, is it?" satoru's expression is oddly giddy, a pink flush settling high on his cheekbones.

you gape at him, suddenly speechless. you don't remember satoru ever having the ability to make you speechless before.

you can't comprehend the stirring in your chest—uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

"you—" you scoff, reaching up to shove him away. "you're full of shit. doesn't change no matter how hot you are."

shoko has gone quiet, eyes darting between you and satoru with an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity. but satoru's gaze does not stray away from you, pearly whites on full display as he licks his lips. he doesn't say anything else, running his fingers through his hair.

"sure sure," satoru hums—pleased. "whatever you say."

you throw shoko an exasperated glare, and she shakes her head, though there is a shine of amusement in her eyes—like she knows something that you don't.

"i mean, they were right you know?" satoru ponders, leaning back against the railing. "why aren't we doing something fun today? we used to go out and buy a shit ton of chocolate back when—"

he stops, expression going sour, before disappearing all together. there is a clear absence, one that the three of you notice but try not to linger on.

("valentine's day?" suguru had asked years ago, glancing down at you with a smile. "you like it?"

"definitely not," you reply, cheeks warming as you fiddle with the sugared churros in your hand, unable to look at him. "what's so great about a day where couples spend a shit ton of money on each other to make the rest of us singles feel miserable?"

a muted chuckle, and when you look up suguru's eyes are shining with mirth. "i'm sure you wouldn't think that if you weren't single."

"i guess," you huff, glancing at the sidewalk. your face feels like it's on fire—but suguru has always had that effect on you. "not very likely to happen though."

the expression suguru throws you will linger in your mind until the day you die. "what do you mean?" he asks—incredulous, like you were speaking nonsense. he stops in his tracks, the busy streets bustling around him as you continue to walk.

you take a bite of your churro, glancing back at him with clear confusion. "huh? oh i just meant me dating someone is unlikely," you shrug, though suguru looks speechless, lips parted and eyes wide behind dark bangs.

"why on earth do you say that?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. he seems to visibly shake off his initial shock to continue walking, and you patiently wait for him to rejoin your side—he does.

"i don't know," you say, somewhat bashfully because you don't usually talk about these things with him. "do you really think there's room for things like that in our lives?"

"do you?" he counters, and you're too busy formulating your answer to notice that he's oddly interested, eyes continuously darting over your face.

"i mean, it'd be great if there was," you ponder, taking another quick bite. "it'd be nice to be able to settle down with someone even after all the crap we've gone through."

"right…" suguru seems to nod along with you, matching your steps even with his longer stride.

"but—" you stress. "considering that most of us are too traumatized or dead by that time, i don't have much faith."

you laugh at your own statement, but there isn't much amusement in it at all. putting it into words makes you truly realize how shitty your lives are even at such a young age.

your mind drifts to the cerulean eyed sorcerer who's currently off in a different city, being made to fight because he is god on earth in a seventeen year old body. it drifts to a brown haired girl who sits, secluded in a room as bodies are sent to her on a conveyor belt, her hands outstretched to feel blood and gore and horror day in and day out. then it drifts to the boy who is most like you, the one with the dark bangs who rationalizes this pain, this service you have devoted yourselves to with the need to do good for others—because there is no other explanation for why you have to go through this.

the same boy who takes your answer in critically, eyes heavy with an oddly somber sheen. he doesn't say anything, thinking hard, and you focus on eating your churro because you've never once found silence with suguru to be uncomfortable.

you are halfway finished when he breaks it.

"well…" suguru's voice is oddly high, a tick of nerves that doesn't usually infiltrate his calm tone. "if there was room for it, what would a good valentine's day look like for you?"

you laugh, loud and unfiltered, and suguru's skin flushes at the sound.

"i don't know!" your laughter dies down into hushed giggles. "i can't think of anything. besides this is stupid as hell!"

"indulge me," he says quietly, and when you turn to look up at him he's staring at you deeply—eyes hooded and smile gone. you suddenly feel oddly parched as heat crawls up your neck.

"um—" you swallow, the churro in your hand forgotten as you glance at the sidewalk again. "i-i'm not sure. i've really never thought that much about it."

"would you want flowers?" he asks. you suddenly become acutely aware that his voice has gone lower, throaty and deep in a way that sends chills up your spine.

you shake your head quietly, somehow nervous to look at him. "it makes me sad that they die off in a few days. better to keep them planted than cut them for a bouquet."

a quiet huff of laughter—fond and nostalgic. "that's on par for you. very in-character."

you lick your lips, tasting the sugar from the treat in your hand. "i guess…maybe i'd like chocolates?"

"chocolates?" suguru repeats, like he's surprised. you don't know why his reaction has you stumbling, but you shake your head quickly, appalled that you're even telling him this in the first place.

"i mean—it's not a big deal or anything! even just a small box of them would do! i don't really care anyway—"

"i would've guessed you'd like a plushie or something along those lines." he hums, a small smile stretching across his face. there's a dust of color blooming across his cheekbones, and you think he looks unfairly charming.

"that's good too!" you reply, too quickly, before catching yourself and ducking your head. "i mean…i don't know. plushies are really cute. i think they'd be a cute gift."

there's a beat of silence, and when you look up suguru is smiling at you like you've just put the stars in the sky for him. he hums to himself, eyes darting around the streets and looking much more at ease than he did a few minutes prior. you find yourself unable to look away.

"what would you want?" the words escape before you can stop them.

"me?" he asks, tilting his head in mild surprise.

"yeah. what would you want for valentine's day?"

suguru blanches, gaze darting over your facial features with shocking speed. it lingers on your eyes, before flickering downward, then shooting back up. you're trying to trace them but they're too fast, and he shuts them before you can process anything. he keeps his eyes closed as you curiously await his answer.

to this day you don't quite understand what he meant.

"anything i can get," he answers with a rueful smile, shaking his head at you fondly. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. "anything at all.")

a familiar voice tickles your ear amongst the silence even now, and you rub your palms together. you can feel satoru's gaze on you, trailing over your expression—searching, analyzing.

you let him—used to it.

"that's enough of that for now. plus don't the two of you have to go check on the kids today?" shoko asks, eyeing the two of you pointedly. her voice has a strain to it, one that you can only pick up because you've known her so long. but you're grateful for the change in subject as you glance at satoru, who checks his phone.

"ah shit. they should be back from school by now but we were supposed to pick up some groceries beforehand," he mutters under his breath before looking down at you. "you wanna head over there first and i'll go get some stuff?"

"sure," you reply, patting shoko's shoulder in farewell. satoru steps closer, digging into his pockets before dropping the apartment keys into your palm. he pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, eyes trailing over your face like he's searching for something, and yet you can't make out what.

a beat of silence.

"d-don't forget to get some of those cookies tsumiki said she liked last time." you drop the keys into your bag and shrug off the odd feeling of this conversation—something strange that you don't feel like looking into because you're scared of what you'll find out about yourself.

satoru's eyes go soft, a mixture of somber and affectionate, and he smiles easily. "you got it." he reaches out to ruffle your hair, licking his lips as he heads for the door. "see you later."

you watch him go, and think that you'd rather have him by your side. but you keep that to yourself—so used to sewing your mouth shut.

("which do you want?" you ask satoru, who peers at the shelves over your shoulder. his close proximity does nothing to you, but he seems oddly giddy when he glances at your side profile.

"hmm, the white chocolate," he answers, low and hushed, like it's meant only for you to hear. you can feel the energy radiating off of him—can feel it shake your very soul.

"okay," you reply, reaching up for the box, but satoru beats you to it. he stretches up, towering over you and you shoot him an playful glare. he had gotten a growth spurt over the holidays and wouldn't let you forget it.

"aw this is so sweet of you," he teases, excited and all too pleased. you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.

"you're the one who's been bugging us for valentine's day chocolate."

"like it wasn't a good idea," he counters with a grin. "even if we're all single we should still get chocolate."

you snort in amusement, before turning to call out across the aisle. "suguru which one should i get you?"

the dark haired male meets your gaze, and the warmth of it sends a tickle through your stomach. he shakes his head with a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "don't worry about it. you know i'm not big on sweets anyway."

you deflate—he smiles at you like he's happy you asked.

"you can give me his share," satoru interjects with a playful smirk, pressing his palm into your shoulder. you shake your head in exasperation.

"no way. i'm still going to get him something." your eyes dart across the shelves, before you reach up and pull down a box of unsweetened chocolates, tied with a red ribbon. "this should be good."

satoru eyes the box, and you glance at him. "suguru would like these right?"

"yeah," he shrugs, before crossing his arms. "as long as they aren't crazy sweet. he hates sweet stuff."

"okay good. then i'll get him these!" your smile stretches wide, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"you're being awfully thoughtful today," satoru comments. you look at him quickly, quirking a brow.

"well i can't just get you one. you're not my only friend." you shoot back.

satoru grins. "guess that's true."

his arm takes its position around your shoulder as you head towards the counter.

"you were really particular about getting suguru something though. any special reason?" he pipes up, and you immediately go still, looking at him as you try to bite back an uncharacteristic surge of panic.

"of course not! i got something for everyone. i even got shoko the rum and raisin chocolates." you say quickly, fighting the urge to crumble under satoru's implications. "besides this was all your idea anyway!"

you dig into your wallet, pulling out exact change and smiling at the cashier, who puts all of your chocolates into a bag. you decide you'll gift them later, when you're in the comfort of the dorm.

"okay let's leave—" you pause when you turn around, breath catching.

because satoru is staring at you, an odd expression on his face. there's something behind his eyes—realization mixed with another emotion you can't quite place.

you're not sure if the expression excites you or scares you.)

you don't expect tsumiki to be so excited when you push open the door. she bounds out of her small bedroom, practically tripping over herself as she chants your name over excited giggles.

"hey kiddo, how was school?" you smile as she throws her arms around your waist. you pat her hair, making a mental note to take her for a haircut sometime soon.

"good! my friends gave me some chocolates today!" she's giddy as she says this, and you smile playfully.

"oh yeah? any boys?"

she immediately flusters at your quirked brow and teasing grin. "of course not!"

you laugh, patting her head again as you take a seat on the couch. "okay okay! where's your brother?"

you don't see the dark haired nine-year-old anywhere. normally he'd be doing his homework at the kitchen table—so much more diligent than you ever were at that age.

"he's in his room," tsumiki answers, and your eyes catch the sneaky bit of amusement in her face.

"doing what?" you ask curiously. she smothers a smile, shrugging.

"i'm not sure." she raises her voice to call out. "megumi! she's here!"

you can hear him grumbling down the hall, hear his little footsteps padding across the floor—affection swells within you.

you think back to the day satoru dragged you to meet him, and you internally remind yourself to thank him.

"hey gumi." you offer the kid a smile, though it falters when you notice the way his hands are hiding behind his back even as he mumbles a quiet greeting in return. "what's wrong?"

"i…" his voice catches, and you notice the heavy pink flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "i just wanted to…"

he trails off again, and tsumiki nudges him discreetly. "just do it!" she whispers, not all that quietly. your eyes dart between them in confusion, and megumi tries to sink into his sweater's collar.

"megumi what's wrong? are you okay?" there's a note of concern you can't keep from your voice, and tsumiki gently pushes him closer to you. "did something happen?"

"no…" he mumbles, attempting to hide his face even more. "i just wanted to…give…"

you blink owlishly. "give…?"

megumi lets out an exasperated huff, brows pinching helplessly before thrusting his arms into your line of sight. "here!"

your lips part. in his little hands are a box of chocolates and a small stuffed bear.

"this is…" you trail off, taking them from his hands.

"he wanted to give you something for valentine's day! to show you how much he appreciates you!" tsumiki interjects, practically bouncing on her feet.

"no i didn't! it's just chocolates stop making it sound like such a big deal!" megumi immediately snaps, glaring at his sister. you can practically see his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you think you will never stop caring for this kid. there's a tickle of a distant memory—small fists clenched around a backpack and deep green eyes that stare up at you in childish apprehension.

those same green eyes now sneak glances at you, assessing your reaction, and you decide to put him out of his misery.

"this is so sweet megumi. thank you!" you smile at him gratefully, touched beyond recognition. your heart swells with affection once more.

megumi shoves his hands into his pockets, a stubborn pout on his face that makes the fat of his cheeks look that much more endearing. "whatever, it's not a big deal."

tsumiki shoots him a glare, before turning to you with a wide smile. "he says that but he was really excited to get you something!"

megumi gapes at her, eyes going wide in betrayal before they narrow. "shut up! besides it was gojo-san who gave me the idea!"

you blink, before smiling somewhat gingerly. though there is a strange sort of satisfaction in you when you hear those words—the mention of satoru's name. as detached as he tries to remain, you know all too well how much more there is to his character.

"i thought gojo-san would suggest flowers," tsumiki ponders, reaching out to squish the little bear before looking at you curiously. "aren't flowers a typical gift to get someone for valentine's day?"

you shrug, smiling carelessly. "i guess so. but i'm glad he didn't because i don't really like flowe—"

it hits you. echoes of a conversation that occurred many many winters ago. it washes over you, a refreshing tide that cools your skin and tickles your face.

of course, it made sense now that you thought about it. there were no secrets between satoru and suguru after all.

a chime cuts through the silence. you glance down at your phone to see a casual text from the snowy haired wonderboy who has been by your side since the beginning, and you can't help but smile.

i'll be home in a minute :P

a promise that has remained constant all these years.

so you type back.

hurry back. waiting for you.

you smile to yourself, heart thudding heavily against your ribcage. "hm."

tsumiki quirks a brow. "what?"

"nothing," you shake your head, wetting your lips as you reach down to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles at you, stars in her eyes, and you think you'll remember that smile forever. "i was just thinking."

"about what?" megumi can't stop the curiosity from seeping into his voice as he peers at you. you grin, gently patting his head with the bear plushie and laughing when he swats you away.

"valentine's day," you answer, smiling at them as you stand up to head to the door. you already know who's about to knock. "i was just thinking that it's not too bad of a holiday."

[duskodair]

im catching up on critical role (am partway through C3 E120) and im struck by some differences between C2 and C3.

C2, for me, was a narrative that was endlessly about coming home. every character is searching for home, or a feeling of home (be that each other). Home in C2 is the nestled nook, the leaky tap, the dome, the lavish chateau, the mistake, the ball eater, felderwin, the xhorhaus, the blooming grove, the nein heroez, the tower, and more. the nein find a home in every town, in each other. they spend their cameos throwing in talks of home, of marriage, of future.

At the start of C3, the hells can't even pick a tavern to be loyal to. they come with two brief senses of home - Madam Zhudanna's and the Krook House (later Ligament Manor). but they are soon left behind. the hells never settle anywhere that feels like home, and they are all running from their memories of home and trying not to look back.

Caleb dreams of raising his home from the ashes, whilst Imogen runs from the storm that consumes hers. Home is something that is lost for the hells. they do not stop. they do not settle. laudna and Imogen's dream cottage feels more like a pipe dream than a promise.

it's this difference, I think, that makes the difference between the two parties. The Nein know their homes and stand steady and grounded with the philosophy of 'leave each place better than you found it'. This culminates in their final battle - a fight against a tortured city with its avatar wearing the face of a dead friend. Their final fight is deeply personal and deeply resonant to their story. They lay tortured memory to rest to save the world, freeing the long trapped souls of aeor, driven by the love of one. They are fighting for the homes that they have made and saved and loved.

The hells, on the other hand, come to us largely untethered from a sense of home. they are people from places that do not define them. Jrusar is just a temporary stop for people who never stop moving. Whitestone is no longer home to Laudna. Even brief visits to Ligament Manor are on a timeline, and come with a cost in later favours. They have no motto other than 'smiley day to you,' and 'what the fuck is up with that?' platitudes and questions get them nowhere.

It makes sense that their villain is philosophy. the nein fight corruption and tyranny. the hells ponder the notion of the divine right of gods. they find no fixed point of agreement other than the fact that they disagree with the methods that others use (and then kill them about it). in the end, their closest friend is their first enemy, Ira, whose morals that they once disagreed with but they have now overlooked. the hells are inconstant, changing.

when the nein were playing, the world was set dressing to their story, enhancing it, and serving as a tool to let us know them. the hells are the opposite. to me, they are set dressing to the story of the world, giving us a viewpoint to see people and places that once felt like home through the eyes of strangers. the hells are without constancy, without clear mission, without regular income, without a grounding in the world.

whilst their final battle is deeply personal to the hells, it still feels impersonal. it feels like the connections were all made off stage, in the wings, rather than at the roadside, at dawn, with a glaive. without a home, or a mission, the hells feel more hollow than the nein. they are defined mainly by their connections to other people - Keyleth's saviour blade, Lord Zathuda and the Fatestitcher's child, Delilah's puppet, Liliana Temult's daughter, Ashton of the Hishari. I cannot tell you stories of their heroism. They robbed a museum once, they raced in a speeder race, they went to the moon. They have been cogs in a larger story until they stumbled into the end of it, still feeling like strangers to me

I'm interested to hear how this story ends, when I get there

[deebris]

The Fractured Bonds

Nolan Grayson x daughter reader (platonic!)

Mark Grayson x sister reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Mark finds himself facing an unexpected threat to his family when Angstrom Levy decides to hold his mother and sister hostage. Despite the family turmoil they've endured and Nolan's departure, he returns to rescue his daughter.

Warnings: Contains scenes of violence, emotional distress and it mentions that the reader was murdered in other realities. The reader is 5 years old. This is just an idea I had a long time ago and kept it stored. This scenario was inspired by Chapter 33 of the "Invincible" comics in portuguese.

Word count: 3.6k

As soon as Mark flew into the house through the window, his heart stopped when he saw you and his mother clinging to each other, as if your lives depended on that embrace. When Eve told him that Debbie had called, but the voice on the phone was a man's, he couldn't help but rush back to you two and imagine that something was wrong, and indeed it was.

At first, he ignored the hideous figure holding you both hostage, but made a point to glare at him with hatred now. His head was larger than that of an ordinary person and the shape of his brain was imprinted around the skull; moreover, the expression on the stranger's face was manic and as furious as Mark's, but there was a kind of excitement shining through.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Your brother's voice was deeper than usual; an attempt to sound more authoritative and intimidating.

"He wanted me to bring you here..." Debbie suddenly began to speak "I-I didn't know where you were. I remembered that Eve had called, I thought maybe she knew." Her voice was faltering, full of pauses between words due to nervousness. And it was while his mother was speaking that Mark noticed her bruised face, with a bleeding nose and purple patches on her arms as she held your small body as protected as possible.

You seemed to be in better physical condition than her, but your injured knee did not go unnoticed, as a thin trail of blood had formed around your calf. In an adult, the wound wouldn't have been a big deal, but your delicate skin stung with the cut, and he knew it hurt because of your sniffles. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do. H-he hurt me, he was going to hurt my baby." She said the last part with regret, referring to you, while holding you closer and running her fingers through your hair.

"In fact, I think your son was talking to me." Interrupting his mother, finally that man had spoken, and his tone was cynical, too unconcerned for the taste of the furious Mark glaring at him. As if that weren't enough, he dared to touch Debbie's shoulder, acting as if he had every right to do so.

"Let them go now." Mark ordered him with dangerously calm voice, although the expression on his face was one of pure disgust.

"Not yet." He opened a diabolical smile as he began his ridiculous speech: "I've learned a lot about you, Mark Grayson. Many things. I know how violent you can get when you're angry, like now..." He paused dramatically, as if he needed to emphasize what he was about to say next, and it was only irritating Mark's impatient. "I know you got it from your father."

The scowl on Mark's face deepened as you tried to peek out from your mother's arms to try to understand what was going on, but she pulled you closer to her embrace. "Stay here with mommy, sweetheart."

Both she and your brother hadn't had the courage to tell you what had happened to Nolan; you were still too young, maybe you wouldn't even understand. They both spent the last few months avoiding mentioning your father at home, and when they did, it was in whispers so that you wouldn't start asking questions they wouldn't know how to answer. No child should know that their own father was a superhero killer, let alone that he had abandoned his own family out of sheer moral caprice.

"Did you know that your identity is public in almost forty percent of the realities where you exist, Mark?" The villain continued his taunts, wanting to get to some point. "That's almost half. And that means you're careless."

"Get to the point already." Mark asked, or rather demanded. If this continued, he was sure he would snap. This dialogue was irritating him, but as long as his mother and sister were witnessing everything, he would need to hold himself together until he found a way to get him away from here.

"You see this?" He pointed to himself, referring to his own appearance "I'm a freak... A deformed freak. So I guess it's understandable that you don't recognize me." Then he wrapped you and your mother around his arm in threat, and the grip was painful. "When you saw me before, when you did this to me, I looked much more normal!"

"Oh, god... You're that guy." Realization struck him, widening his eyes as he remembered the past.

"That guy? Is that all you remember of me? That I was that guy?" If that man's temperament was bad before, now it must have risen about twenty degrees with the lack of importance his sworn enemy had given him. "I'm Angstrom Levy! The next time you forget my name, it will be because you'll be dead!"

He was certainly furious, pouring out hatred and continuing to blame Mark for interrupting his inter-dimensional goals, blaming him for his current deformed appearance, repeating that he would always be a freak, even though he had sought out the best surgeons to reconstruct his shattered body.

"The greatest minds in a dozen realities couldn't find a way to fix my brain!" His hands clenched into heavy, tense fists, ready to crush something "And it's all because of you!"

After that, he exploded and everything happened too quickly for Debbie to stop him, and even if she were quick, she wouldn't have had the strength. In moments, you were ripped from your mother, who had taken a punch to the face. Levy held you and stretched one of your arms with the free hand. You hadn't acquired powers yet and were nothing but a child; you couldn't defend yourself alone.

Mark took a step forward, but Levy raised your arm in a strange position, ready to break it. You cried and sobbed desperately due to the intense pain. "Mommy, make him stop! Mark!" You pleaded as he twisted your arm, and irrationally shouted for your brother repeatedly, seeking someone who could come to your rescue.

"Let her go!" Mark was no longer the Invincible, even in his superhero costume. He was just a man trying to protect his family, and he felt so useless and powerless that it was agonizing. Without thinking, he lunged at the hideous villain in front of him, ready to confront him in physical combat at that very moment.

"That's right. I'm right here. Come get me!" And he did, but Mark was taken aback to find himself in a completely strange place. He was no longer in his home; Angstrom Levy had sent him through one of his portals to another dimension.

He watched in shock the weird jungle he found himself in, with mutant dinosaur-like creatures devouring the carcass of another beast as large as they were right beside him. The animals noticed Mark, and suddenly they... Spoke? He heard the beasts mention that it had been a long time since they had seen any Homo Sapiens, obsessed with devouring him. Apparently, he was in some apocalyptic dimension where humans had been extinct by these beasts. He could have ended these animals in seconds, but still couldn't help but feel fear, not for himself, but for you. How would he return to help you?

At home, Debbie had to plead with Levy to return you to her, and with some pity for your cries after he broke the arm, he returned you, allowing you to be comforted by your mother. But he kept you two close to him, with a firm grip on the older woman's shoulder, so he could use you against Mark at any moment.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay," she repeated comforting words as she wiped away your tears and rubbed your back gently. Debbie had seen and heard of many cruel villains thanks to her life as the wife of a "hero," but how insensitive would a human being need to be to break a 5-year-old's arm like this? Of course, she knew that even more horrendous things had happened to children in this world, but you were her daughter, and it hit her deeply.

Debbie felt you faint in her lap and panicked. She shouldn't have shaken you the way she did, but in the midst of desperation, the last thing she wanted was to see you silent, with your eyes closed. You passed out from the pain. It's normal, she's aware of that, but it was still terrifying. She was only taken out of her stupor when she heard his disgusting voice again:

"I can't believe you're going to lie to her like that." He drew attention to himself. "What kind of mother are you? How can you say that to her? You're not sure about that." Debbie ignored him, and he took it as a challenge. "I bet you're not even listening to me. Blocking me from your mind, aren't you?" He insisted. "Are you sure you don't want to talk? I could use your company."

He tried once more, but still received no response from the woman. Levy shifted his gaze from Debbie to carefully observe you. He knew the pain must be intense; he should have given up injuring you as soon as Mark passed through the portal, but he preferred to do it as a reminder. A warning for when his brother returned. If he returned. "Let's check on your son. Let's see how well Mark managed to survive this reality."

Extending his hands to summon a portal that glowed green, a figure in his yellow superhero uniform passed through the colorful circle.

"You were going to hurt my sister?" The boy shouted as soon as he saw he was back home, numb with a sense of vengeance.

"Not only was I going to, but I did." The statement made Mark's blood run cold.

"Mark?" Debbie called him desperately to show your state. She couldn't bear to see you suffer. Mark held his mother's gaze, interrupting only to finally notice you, who were motionless. Your arm was in such a unusual and swollen position. Your face, which was once red from crying, now had turned pale, and if it weren't for your shallow breathing, he would have thought you were dead.

"What have you done?" He asked furiously.

Levy made no move to respond, taking you from Debbie's arms once again. "No! Let go of my daughter!" She shouted angrily, completely abandoning her earlier fearful expression. She refused to allow that horrendous creature to take you away from her a second time. Debbie had felt how cold and clammy your skin was, and the more she looked at you, the paler your face became.

"Welcome back, Mark Grayson." Levy said after observing the hysterical scene of the woman beside him unfold with some indifference. "Your little sister here is really cute; I personally adore this chubby face of hers." Mark's throat tightened at the sight of you in the arms of that despicable man, scared with force, and seeing his broken mother in the corner of the bed only made his heart beat harder. "You know, I've encountered her in other realities." His tone was perverse, too cynical. "But unfortunately, those versions of her didn't get to advance much in age compared to this one. Isn't that interesting?"

"You bastard!" It didn't take much intelligence to understand what he meant, and it made Mark's nostrils flare with fury.

"That also makes me wonder what must have happened differently for her to survive longer in this dimension." Debbie moved from where she was on the bed and carefully reached for the bedside lampshade while Angstrom Levy was distracted, but a brief glance at her son made her abandon the idea. Mark discreetly shook his head negatively, implying that she shouldn't do that. "Or maybe I am the trigger for this event here," he pointed out with a smile.

"If you hurt her more, I swear-" Mark said with hatred and tense body, but he was interrupted.

"What? You'll kill me? Of course, you will." The villain stared at him seriously, with some skepticism. "Don't worry. However, her well-being really only depends on you. After all, it was you who let Anissa kill her once, and Conquest, and Thragg... Although the latter was more your father's fault," he stated matter-of-factly while scratching his chin.

He seemed like had finished speaking, but decided that the hero needed to hear more upon seeing the boy's shocked face at the mention of those peculiar names, yours assassins, curiously, all Viltrumites. Levy wasn't sure if Mark was already aware of these people, but what really mattered to him was to disturb the boy. "But it's you whom I want to hurt. I want to hurt you so, so much... Your little sister is very safe, as long as I determine that the only way to hurt you is by hurting her."

Then suddenly he lifted your unconscious body in his arms as he prepared to throw you into a portal. Debbie's heart was in combustion, beating faster than ever as she suppressed a scream. But your brother's temper finally snapped, completely determined to kill him once and for all.

Mark moved forward to stop him, but within seconds, the roof of the house was pierced and him felt something, or rather, someone push him away. He couldn't see much, but he followed his mother's pleas and embraced her, protecting her from the wreckage. His throat tightened at not seeing you, not knowing what was happening, but soon part of the dust began to settle.

Struggling a bit, the boy managed to see his father's back, apparently holding the man, who moments ago was about to send you away, in the air by the neck. He relaxed a little more when he saw traces of his hair resting on Nolan's broad shoulder, finally free from the dangerous clutches. Despite the disturbing events regarding his father, Mark knew he wouldn't let anyone harm you under his protection.

Levy felt himself losing breath, his brain throbbing from the blow he received from a piece of wood fallen from the ceiling. An intense pain hit him as Omni-Man began to bash his head repeatedly against the wall. His skull was now partly mashed into the concrete, and the red liquid that was his blood flowed to the ground.

"If my left fist weren't busy, I'd make you suffer much more," Nolan's thunderous and deep voice sounded intimidatingly throughout the room. "Despicable trash like you should keep your filthy hands to yourself."

Nolan struck one last time as he whispered in a chilling whisper the last words that man would hear before having his skull pushed against the wall slowly, until it crushed like gelatin: "I'll ensure that every version of you that dares to appear here on this Earth, or anywhere in this Universe, has a slow and painful death before laying a finger on my daughter again."

And as the Viltrumite increased the grip on Levy's neck and continued pressing his head against the wall, it seemed like his eyes were about to pop out. The skin that was once brown now split between purple and pink in some spots due to the continuous pressure while him was dying.

Observing the man coldly, Nolan withdrew his hand and took care not to stain you with the blood dripping from his fingers, portraying a much gentler grimace as he observed your sleeping figure. He always found it adorable to see how incredibly tiny you looked in his arms, It awakened an intense feeling of protection. But upon noticing that you were injured, his eyebrows furrowed, carefully examining your broken arm while wondering how Mark had let this happen.

"Father, what-" Mark broke free from his mother, finally finding words amidst the shock, but was interrupted.

"Your sister needs to go to the hospital." His voice was distant, almost emotionless, successfully masking the concern.

Debbie honestly wasn't ready to face the man she had been deceived by so soon, but she couldn't care less when the only thing she had wanted for hours was just to keep you safe and close to her. She avoided his eyes as she anxiously waited for an opportunity to have you back in her arms, and her ex-husband seemed to have noticed. As hesitant as he was, he walked over to her carefully, avoiding showing a more human side of himself to his family, but also not being hostile in his gestures. He surrendered to the act and pressed his lips to one of her temples before putting you in her arms.

"Take good care of her." He stared at his son with some severity. "I can't always be here, I'm entrusting her life to you, Mark."

The boy looked at him with some indignation, as if his father doubted that he would do everything to protect you, but he knew he had been too careless, as Angstrom Levy said he was. Even though he had the strength to defend his little sister, he still found himself vulnerable tonight, almost incapable.

"You don't need to ask for that." Mark was firm, and Nolan nodded satisfactorily. He thought about saying something more, even though he didn't understand why, the last thing he should want is to speak to his father again. Perhaps it was to unload the disgust he still felt, but the health of both of you was a more important matter to him now.

"Go away." Debbie's voice surprised them. She was obviously defeated, too tired for all this, but still found the energy to stand while holding you. "It was the necklace, wasn't it? Are you spying on us?"

Nolan's gaze was hard, trying to hide how his ex-wife's contempt affected him. The months of bitterness he spent in space had changed his demeanor a bit, but he thought it would be less painful for both of them not to hear his regret after all the harm he had caused. He didn't consider himself worthy of his family's pity, although now they considered him a stranger. He knew that Mark and Debbie still harbored a monstrous image of the person he was, and perhaps he really was.

"Aren't you going to admit it?" She asked him again with indignation, seeing that the man didn't make a single move to leave.

The object she referred to was a gift from both of them to you, or rather, from Nolan. He was the one who had the idea of ​​putting the necklace around your neck with the excuse of keeping you safe. He wanted to know where you were and who you were talking to, and the way he found to do that was by projecting this piece with the help of his planet's technology. "I hope every time you hear this little girl mention your name, you wriggle with remorse and agony, if you still have any kind of heart. You were better off away."

She still remembers when he told you: 'Whenever you want to talk to me, just hold your necklace close. That way I'll always be with you.' At the time, it was something so beautiful, something they hadn't thought of doing with Mark, but now it could be different. In your childish mind, it was as if it were magical and a piece of your father would really be with you all the time. But now it stirred disgust in her, she wanted to destroy it.

"Don't take it off, Debbie. Please." Nolan's imposing voice had become softer, almost frightened, and he had finally shown some kind of weakness after so long. "Please." He repeated the plea.

"Mom, maybe it's a good idea to let her keep wearing it. At least sometimes." Mark interfered not for his father, but thinking of you. If Nolan had been able to appear today to save you, he could come to your rescue more often, although the idea of ​​you being in danger again gave him chills.

Debbie hesitated, giving up tearing the necklace off your neck. Knowing that Nolan would be able to experience their day-to-day life bothered her, but she would deal with it later, remembering that you needed medical care. She was very hurt, but her own condition didn't matter to herself as long as she saw you awake and well again. "Mark. Hospital." she announced hurriedly ignoring the fourth person in the room and the bloody scene beside her.

Nolan sighed in relief for a moment, looking one last time at you and Mark, ashamed, but adopting the stone-cold expression he had previously. "Mark, don't let her take it off." He didn't want to sound like that, but the tone of his voice carried a threat. The boy cared little about giving him any kind of response, returning a grim expression to his father as he departed at a thunderous speed through the now-open roof, just as he had come, raising the dust once again.

"Let's go," Mark said gently to his mother, lifting her delicately since you were in her arms.

[pensthoughts]

car talk | v.p

summary: part two of enough—in which the weight of unspoken feelings finally breaks. contains: confessions, fluff, awkwardness pairing: van palmer x reader word count: 1,514 warnings: making out? but no real smut

the field was nearly empty now, the sky bleeding into amber and gold as the last stretch of daylight clung to the treetops. the other yellowjackets were long gone, leaving only two girls

van sat in the driver's seat of her car. she could hear birds, the faint rustle of wind, and the sound of the passenger side door clicking shut as you climbed in beside her.

you tucked your legs up in the seat, sweatshirt sleeves pulled over your hands. van tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. there was just something about you—something soft and steady that made her feel calmer just by being near you.

and god, she was always near you lately.

"coach is probably gonna make us do sprints again next week," van muttered, trying to sound casual. deflection always worked.

you smiled at her, a little teasing. "maybe if you didn't talk through the whole warm-up."

van grinned, "talking keeps morale up! i'm basically doing community service."

your laugh came easy, like it always did. warm and light. the kind of laugh that made her want to say things just to keep hearing it.

you leaned your head back against the seat, still smiling. "you always say stuff like that," you said. "like you're joking, but it ends up kinda sweet anyway."

her brain blanked for a second and she blinked, "that's...new"

"not really," you replied, turning your head toward her, "you're just not used to hearing it."

van's stomach flipped, and she looked straight ahead to keep from letting that show on her face. you didn't even realize what you did to her. or maybe you did, and you were just too nice to use it against her. either way, she was spiraling.

her hands were clammy on the steering wheel, even though she wasn't leaving any time soon. this was it, wasn't it? the moment she'd been putting off for weeks now, maybe longer.

she hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of the steering wheel. then, voice low:

"hey. can i tell you something? just—don't make it weird."

you raised your eyebrows, but your expression stayed soft. "you can tell me anything."

god, you had no idea what that did to her.

van could feel the words stacking in her throat like a jenga tower, one wrong move from collapsing.

she took a breath. "i think i've been trying not to feel something for a while now," she started. "like, pretending it's just a routine. us hanging out after practice, joking around, sitting in this car like it's no big deal. but it's not."

you didn't interrupt. you just watched her, your expression unreadable—but not closed off.

"you'll laugh at something i say, or look at me like that, and it just—" van exhaled, shoulders tight. "it undoes me. every time."

her chest was too tight. everything in her wanted to laugh it off, make a dumb joke about how cheesy she sounded, but this wasn't the kind of moment she could shrug off. this was the kind of thing that cracked a person wide open.

"van..." your voice was barely above a whisper. "what are you saying?"

she swallowed hard. "i'm saying i like you," she said, finally. "not the casual kind. not the kind i can joke my way out of."

the words were out, and her heart was hammering like she'd just sprinted across the field—and back. great. now she was gonna pass out in her own car. that'd be a great move.

you blinked at her, like the words had just hit you in the chest. "wait—seriously?"

van's brow furrowed. "yeah. why's that so hard to believe?"

"i thought you knew," you said, softer now. "or at least... guessed."

she laughed, nervous. "no. i mean, i've been trying to guess, but you're..." she shook her head, trying to find something to say that didn't make her sound completely gone for you. "i didn't want to assume. you're important to me. like, really important."

it came out too fast, too honest. but it was the truth.

you leaned forward just slightly, "why didn't you say anything before?"

van rubbed her palms against her jeans. "because I was scared. i didn't wanna screw this up. didn't wanna lose what we already had."

there was a pause, and you were still there but closer now. looking at her.

"you didn't screw anything up," you said, but instead of looking at her you watched as you started to caress her arm with your hand, slowly going up and down. which drove van even crazier.

van looked at you, searching for any trace of hesitation in your face .

"can i—?" she asked, voice barely audible

you nodded. "yeah,"

van didn’t wait. the second the word left your mouth, she was on you—hands cupping your face at first, but then sliding down, fingers curling around the back of your neck as her mouth met yours with heat. it wasn’t hesitant this time. it was like all the tension she’d been carrying snapped in one moment and poured straight into the kiss.

her other hand found your waist, tugging you closer across the console like she needed you nearer, needed more. the kiss was deep, messy in that way that made your stomach flip. her teeth grazed your bottom lip and she let out the softest, most frustrated little noise when you kissed her harder in return.

you weren’t even thinking anymore—just moving with her, hands in her hoodie, nails dragging lightly down her spine. the air in the car was suddenly too hot, her knee brushing against yours, and she was everywhere.

she finally broke away, breathing hard, eyes searching your face like she wasn’t sure if she’d gone too far—but also kind of like she hoped she had. her voice was lower now, almost rough:

“was that okay?”

you blinked at her, dazed. "van, that was..." you laughed, breathless, your fingers still tangled in her hoodie. "...very okay."

van grinned, smug now but still flushed. "yeah. cool. just checking."

but her eyes didn’t leave yours. not right away. and even though she tried to play it cool, she was buzzing—completely wrecked in the best way. her heart was thudding like she’d just run sprints, her hands still gripping your waist a little too tightly like if she let go, you might disappear.

you leaned back slightly, your smile soft and a little shy now, and van watched the way your fingers toyed with the edge of her sleeve like you weren’t sure what to do next. it killed her a little—how innocent you still looked after that. like you'd just kissed her breathless and were still the most adorable thing she'd ever seen.

“so…” you started, barely above a whisper. “what now?”

van huffed out a breath, laughing under it. “you tell me. i’ve been trying to get the courage to kiss you for, like, a month and a half. i didn’t plan past that part.”

“a month and a half?” you repeated, eyes wide. “seriously?”

“oh, yeah. i’m pathetic,” she said, half-grinning, rubbing a hand down her face. “you’d show up at practice, all cute and sweet and sparkly, and i’d just sit there pretending i didn’t wanna grab your face and make out with you in broad daylight. i deserve an oscar, honestly.”

you giggled, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“ridiculously into you,” she said without missing a beat, and it made your whole face go warm. she felt the shift immediately—the way you curled in a little, flustered, but didn’t pull away. if anything, you leaned into her touch when she reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

you bit your lip. “okay, well… now that you have kissed me, what do we do?”

van shrugged, but her eyes were gentle now. “whatever you want. we can keep it chill. i’ll still bring you orange slices to practice. still let you pick the music in the car. still pretend i don’t secretly love when you make fun of my mixtapes.”

you gave her that look—the one that made her stomach somersault every damn time. “what if i want more?”

van paused for half a second, like her brain short-circuited. then: “yeah. yeah, i can work with that.”

she kissed you again then—quicker this time, smiling into it, like she couldn’t quite believe this was real. her fingers slipped through yours, locking them together, grounding herself with you in that small, sun-warmed car that now felt like the center of the universe.

outside, the sky had gone gold and pink and sleepy. the parking lot was empty now, shadows stretching long across the pavement. but inside the car, everything felt like it was just beginning.

“i really, really like you,” you said softly, eyes on her.

van squeezed your hand. “good. ‘cause i’m absolutely gone for you.”

and even though neither of you said the word love, it was there. in the air. in the kiss. in the way van couldn’t stop smiling the whole drive home.

[songbirdseung]

𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑳𝑬𝑵  𝑴𝑶𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑺  /  𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑲  𝑱𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑬𝑶𝑵𝑮

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨,𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 

A fresh new relationship, both of you inexperienced in the world of romance. Everything felt exciting but nerve-wracking at the same time. You and Jay were each other’s first in everything—first love, first kiss, first deep connection.

But your jobs made it harder than you’d imagined. Jay was a global superstar, still young into the Korean music industry but already in high demand. Meanwhile, you were working toward your college undergrad degree, your days packed with lectures, assignments, and research. Finding time for each other, let alone for yourselves was never easy. You both knew the sacrifices this relationship would require, the compromises you’d have to make. Yet, somehow, you made it work. You understood each other in ways that made it all worth it.

HYBE had been surprisingly generous, allowing the relationship to continue under strict conditions. Keeping things a secret from fans was crucial for Jay’s career and for your safety. That meant no public dates, no subtle hints, no room for rumors. So, your time together was limited to quiet moments behind closed doors. Home dates became your safe haven.

Whenever you had a free day, you spent it in the practice room or recording studio; wherever Jay was. Not just for moral support, but because he was home to you.

And Jay? He loved seeing you there. Sure, he appreciated the snacks you brought, the way you doted on him, but really, he just wanted you.

"Okay, stop for now. Let’s take a break," Heeseung called out, lowering the music as he plopped onto the floor, the others following with exhausted groans.

"I'm so sick of this song already," Jay muttered as he walked over to you, dropping onto the couch beside you.

Without a word, he rested his head on your lap, his warm breath hitting your skin. You smiled, grabbing a face towel and gently wiping away his sweat.

"But your fans will love it for sure," you murmured.

Jay hummed in response, barely nodding. He was drained, his body heavy against you. You handed him a bottle of water, watching as he took slow sips before leaning his head back against the wall.

"Babe, stop staring at me," he muttered, cracking one eye open. "You look like a creep."

You grinned. "I can’t help it. You’re so gorgeous. It honestly hurts."

Jay narrowed his eyes before letting out a soft chuckle. "Is that a Taylor Swift reference?"

You gasped dramatically. "You got it!"

He smirked. "Of course I did. You sing her songs way too loudly in your room."

"Why don’t you audition?" Jay asked suddenly.

You blinked. "You’re funny, Jay."

But he wasn’t laughing. He tightened his hold on your hand, looking at you with quiet sincerity. "I’m serious. I’ve seen you when you’re actually giving your all. You could pass an audition, babe."

Your heart squeezed at his words. You wanted to believe him, but deep down, you didn’t think your skills could compare to his.

"Even ask the guys," he continued. "They love your voice. Remember karaoke night? They didn’t even believe it was you singing."

Jay's smile faltered slightly as another memory from that night surfaced.

"...Then you sang a duet with Heeseung instead of me," he grumbled.

"You didn’t want to, that’s why," you shot back before he could finish.

Sunoo, who had been eavesdropping, dramatically rolled his eyes. "You guys are cute and all, but can you respect us singles? Some of us don’t have a significant other."

"Go get a room or something," he teased, making the others laugh.

Jay, ever the troublemaker, stuck his tongue out before snuggling into you even more.

"Okay, okay, go practice now," you said, pushing him off with a chuckle. You reached for the speaker, ready to start the music again.

This was routine by now. The playful teasing, the soft touches, the warmth that settled between you whenever you were around each other.

And neither of you would trade it for anything.

At the end of the day, saying goodbye was never easy.

"Okay, I’ll leave first and meet you at the dorms later, okay?" You slung your bag over your shoulder, glancing at Jay.

"Are you staying over?" he asked, hopeful.

You nodded. "Yeah, just for tonight."

"For how long? Forever?" He hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You wish, Jay," you teased, turning in his arms.

He pouted. "Text me when you get home, okay? And be safe."

You smiled as he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, before finally capturing your lips in a sweet goodbye.

"I will. See you later, love."

With one last glance, he sighed and turned back to the studio.

The elevator ride down to the garage gave you a clear view of the city. The bright lights of Seoul sparkled, but your eyes drifted lower to the crowd gathered outside HYBE. Fans, cameras, eyes always watching.

A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"One of these days, you're gonna have to tell the world, right?"

You turned to see one of Enhypen’s managers, the one who usually drove you home or to the dorms. Over time, you’d grown close.

"Do we really?" you murmured.

"In the future," he said. "Maybe when you two get married. Or have a kid."

Your cheeks burned at the thought. Marriage? You hadn’t even let yourself go there yet.

"That’s way too early to think about," you muttered, hiding your flustered face.

The manager just chuckled.

Back at the dorm, the scent of a home-cooked meal greeted the boys as they stepped inside.

"That smells amazing," Sunghoon said, following the scent into the kitchen. The dining table was set with everyone’s favorite dishes, as if there were something to celebrate.

Jake peered into Jay’s shared room and grinned. "She’s here, isn’t she?"

The others followed, peeking into the dimly lit room, where they found you fast asleep.

"Awh, she’s sleeping," Jungwon whispered.

"Let’s let her rest," Heeseung said. "We should eat first."

The moment dinner started, Riki decided to be a menace.

"Since Y/N cooked for us, the least we could do is make Jay wash the dishes," he declared.

Jay shot him a glare. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, for sure! You’re the dad here," Sunghoon chimed in.

And that was that. Jay had lost.

When you woke up later that night, you found Jay sulking at the kitchen sink, drying the last plate.

"Did you lose a bet again or something?" you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

He groaned. "This is all Riki’s fault."

You laughed, pressing a small kiss to his back. He quickly wiped his hands, then took your hand and led you back into his room.

"Did you eat dinner?" he asked.

"Yeah, before you guys got home."

Satisfied with your answer, Jay collapsed onto his bed, pulling you down with him. His arms immediately wrapped around you, locking you in place.

Poor Jake had to walk in just in time to witness the scene.

Jay smirked. "Jealous?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Just keep it down, lovebirds."

You and Jay just laughed, settling deeper into each other’s warmth.

[elixara]

karaoke night

content: modern au, fluff, female reader, established relationship, aglaea is so done, castorice for moral support, hyacine is speechless, amphoreus men loves twice, phainon x reader pairing, inspired from this vid on tiktok.

word count: 0.7k

you were running late for the karaoke night you were invited to by Phainon along with his friends. you had some errands to do and you were rushing to meet up with your boyfriend at the karaoke place. by the time you arrived and entered the room where phainon and the others were, you were greeted by very loud voices. hyacine lightened up when she saw you and invited you to sit with her.

“Hi! You must be Phainon’s girlfriend!” The cheery pink haired girl addressed you as soon as you sat beside her. “Nice to meet you! I’m Hyacine. That one is Castorice.” She pointed to the purple haired girl beside her. “The one beside her is Aglaea.” The golden haired girl gave you a small smile as acknowledgement and you returned the gesture.

“Nice to meet you girls,” you greeted them back. “But…” you hesitantly glanced towards the boys who were getting ready to start the song.

“Don’t mind them,” Aglaea said. “They’re gonna be just a bunch of idiots as usual.”

“…uh, i’m so curious ‘bout you, boy, wanna keep it cool…”

you were rendered speechless at how passionate these boys were singing. then again, it’s a TWICE song. majority of your male friends are fans of TWICE. hell, you like their songs as well.

“i’m surprised they know this song,” Hyacine muttered softly, as if she were as speechless as you were. you glanced at Aglaea who was keeping a poker face at the events that are happening right now but you know that she is so done with these boys. Castorice is just clapping softly, cheering for the boys.

“…if i say what’s on my mind would i hit bullseye?”

their voices are getting more aggressive? passionate? as the song goes.

at the word “shoot” the three boys pointed upwards. now that you think about it, you quite know the blond haired guy. i think that’s mydei. the one in the eyepatch you assumed is anaxa who likes to be called anaxagoras.

the other ones stopped to make way for Anaxa to sing his line and then the next line the “baby, i…” was Mydei’s and it was aggressive for you. phainon sang next and it was more of a harmonization which was definitely offkey.

“I'm sorry aglaea,” Hyacine muttered beside you. you were about to offer some words of comfort when someone yelled in the mic, “feel like cupid’s aliveee”.

“Are they always like this?” you ask the girls.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Aglaea answered. “I apologize for meeting us, especially Mydei and Anaxa like this. To make up for today, would you like to come with us on Friday at the mall?”

you inaudibly gasp. you were kinda nervous that you were meeting Phainon’s friends today and you didn’t know that it was going to turn out like this. seeing that you feel like the offer is sincere, you accept. “Sure! Here, let me add you so we can text each other.” you offered your phone and you exchanged contacts with the girls. Hyacine cheered gleefully beside you and began complimenting your makeup in the midst of the chaos. Castorice also exchanged a few conversations with you along with Aglaea.

epilogue:

Phainon was driving you home today and the two of you were sitting in his car, on your way to your house. “So, how was it with my friends?”

you smiled. “Hyacine is so sweet and Castorice looks like a shy girl but she’s pretty. Aglaea invited me to hang out with them on Friday. I look forward to it.” you grinned.

“I’m glad you like them. They told me that they also like you, even in first impressions.” Phainon replied.

“Really?” you turned to him.

“Mhm. Did you at least enjoy tonight?”

“You’re the one who enjoyed the most, Phai. Never knew you’re a once.”

“Hey! You’re the one who’s a carat. You don’t hear me complain, do you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully. before you know it, you’ve arrived and Phainon parked in front of your house.

“thank you for tonight.” you unbuckle your seatbelt and quickly steal a kiss from your boyfriend and immediately hop off his car and rush to your front door. Phainon was left in the car, blushing hard at his girlfriend’s boldness. once you have entered your house, you’ve received a text.

Phainon: i’ll get back to you for that

you: i look forward to it 😉

[alwerakoo]

''Dream about me''

ROTTMNT Leonardo & Michelangelo - centric Post-krang roadtrip AU, 5k words

After stopping an alien invasion (of the world-ending kind), a road trip across America feels like the most logical next step. A brilliant idea, as far as Mikey is concerned. His siblings still treat him like particularly fragile glass statue, Leo refuses to look at him, and there's a deep knot, constantly tightening somewhere inside of his chest. But the views are nice, at least.

(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)

Read on AO3

------ “That's not going to close.”

Donnie, carefully trying to balance a third suitcase on top of two others, leans back to look at April.

“Maybe it would, if one of you actually tried to help.”

Raph and April, both equally invested in the task of trying to look busy, quickly avoid his gaze.

He's not looking at Leo, because it would probably cause him to say something like: 'You think this is a three-arm job?', which would make Donnie's face turn into that deeply and unexpectedly sad expression, which would make Leo feel so guilty he's shaking with it, and it's just a little too early for all that.

“You're doing great,” Mikey says, just to be encouraging.

He's not really doing anything either, but Donnie doesn't look at him.

He was supposed to paint the side of the minibus because he said he would, but the brush felt frail in his soft grip, the lines coming out shaky and uneven, and then he knocked over the paint bucket and almost started crying.

He's sat on the floor now, with a fresh, bright orange stain on the concrete next to his feet, a few ugly scribbles on the car, and a deep knot in his gut.

Which is stupid, really, because that's what he wanted to do, and getting upset over it makes him feel like an inconsolable child.

“Do we really need all this?” Leo asks.

The fact that he's responsible for at least half of their luggage seems to escape his mind at the moment.

“If we run out of food,” Donnie takes a slow step back, like he's trying not to startle the game of Tetris he created out of their bags, “we're eating you first.”

“We're not going to run out.” Leo rolls his eyes, rocking on his feet. “You know, there's this thing called 'grocery stores'? You go in there and you can exchange money for items. Crazy things that humans come up with.”

Donnie looks at him.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?”

Leo huffs, like he's taking great offense to that, but doesn't say anything else.

Mikey's not sure which of them is right. He's never been on a road trip before.

The idea was sudden and spontaneous, like a spark that quickly turned into a blaze, until it was all any of them could think about.

“I want to get out of here,” April said one evening, lying flat on the couch, her legs thrown over the armrest. “I feel like I'm going crazy.”

And that was that.

By the next Monday, Leo had drawn out a thin line in red ink over a map, cutting the country in half. On Tuesday, Mikey spend excruciating hours convincing their father that they were well equipped to deal with far worse dangers than dehydration, high gas prices, and white vans full of potential kidnappers. On Wednesday, Raph came home carrying every tourist guide he was able to hold in his arms, which was a lot.

By the next Sunday, Donnie had the car ready.

A minibus, to be precise. It was a new and shiny thing, with rows of seats, sliding doors, tinted windows and many other possibly illegal modifications. Mikey was also almost certain none of the steps his brother took in order to obtain it were quite lawful, but his excitement quickly outweighed his already brittle moral compass.

He wonders, now, if with a bit more of a foresight, Donnie would've opted for something with a bigger trunk.

Carefully, Donnie pushes the back door of the car closed.

Inside, their suitcases rattle to the floor.

He sighs, resting his forehead against the metal.

“Hey, Leo,” Mikey tries, pushing himself upwards. He's already feeling restless. “Wanna help me make lunch?”

He doesn't need help, and if he does – he doesn't want it.

But he wants Leo, the opportunity to talk to him.

“Nah, I'll help Donnie here before he pops a vein. But Raph has been reading the same page for twenty minutes now, so I'm sure he'd be happy to help.”

Quickly, Raph closes the little booklet in his hands, cheeks pink.

Leo turns to smile at Mikey, almost on instinct.

But then his gaze falls on the car, his face drops, and he turns around awkwardly, like he's not sure what to do with himself for a moment.

Mikey wants to grab and shake him until he finally tells him what's wrong.

He thinks they might be fighting, which is strange, because he has no idea why they would be.

It took him a moment to realize it at first.

The first few weeks after the Krang were spent on mending old wounds, ripping out new ones, and it felt like years and years of things held back, never spoken out loud, spilling out all at once.

Mikey can recall the one time Leo found him making pancakes at four in the morning. Or attempting to, because his hands started to bleed again, and Leo held his wrist in place under the faucet, washing his palms with cold water and screaming himself hoarse.

And then Leo yelled: 'Are you trying to hurt yourself or are you really this dumb?', and suddenly Mikey felt like it wasn't about the pancakes at all.

But it's been three months since then, and there's no longer any doubt in his mind.

Leo is avoiding him.

It's confusing and it hurts, and it feels like he just woke up to find half of the walls in his house missing. And the worst part is just that:

He doesn't know why.

“Okay,” he says, all casual, because if Leo can lie, so can he.

He watches Leo forget himself for a moment, bringing his palm to his stomach like he wants to rub his hands together. Then he freezes, just for a moment, before letting his arm fall.

Mikey stands, giving his brother one final look.

Leo can't run forever, but he knows him too well to think he won't try.

It's a good thing Mikey isn't anything but stubborn.

***

America from a passenger window, as Mikey finds out over the next few days, is a lot bigger than he expected.

It's miles and miles of fields, and forests, and fields again, and he watches all of it roll pass with the sort of squashed amazement, like he can't quite believe it's real until they stop for a break, and he can take a breath, cities and villages, and trees, and lonely gas stations stretching out before him.

Mikey managed to convince Draxum to let them borrow his old cloaking brooches, and they quickly make great use of them, stopping at every monument and museum any of them finds mildly interesting (which in Leo's case includes not one, but two ''world's largest balls of yarn'').

But Mikey's favorite moments are the nights.

They sleep on the sides of the road, in the woods, in front of someone's field; in small tents with the occasional bonfire to keep them company, away from the busiest roads and civilization.

Just a few years ago, the thought of sleeping on hard, cold ground probably would’ve made all of his siblings wince in vague disgust. But they've grown tougher over the years, rougher around the edges, and he can't decide if it's a good, or a bad thing.

The days are hot, and the cold of the night feels soothing, and Mikey spends hours with his head tilted back, watching the stars, to then promptly pass out in his seat as soon as they start up again.

“Lucky bastard,” Donnie tells him one morning, yawning. “You get to be a passenger princess.”

Mikey, one of the two passengers not allowed behind the wheel, leans out of his seat to look at Donnie in the rear-view mirror.

“I wouldn’t be, if someone agreed to teach me how to drive.”

Donnie frowns, wrinkling his snout in a funny way.

“Let you drive my cars? I don't think so.”

Mikey doesn't even take it for anything other than a joke until Donnie's eyes widen suddenly, real panic quickly flooding his face.

“I mean, not like I think you'd be a bad driver!” He turns around to look at him. “It's not because of the- It's- I was just joking.”

“Dee, eyes on the road,” April says quickly, making a weird gesture like she wants to lean over and grab the wheel herself. She always seems a little on the edge when Donnie's driving, and no one can really blame her for it.

Donnie turns back with a quiet swear under his breath.

Behind him, Leo and Raph exchange silent looks. They all fall quiet for a moment, like they're expecting Mikey to flip out, and really, that makes him want to do just that.

Instead, he says:

“It's fine. I didn't assume you meant it that way.”

He probably shouldn’t feel too offended, even if Donnie did mean it in that way. He doesn't think he'd be able to keep the wheel straight anymore.

“Hey,” Leo says suddenly. He's holding a map Mikey didn't notice him grabbing. “There's another yarn ball, like, five miles from here.”

Raph quickly grabs at the map.

“No way.”

“I'm telling, you, man. There are so many.”

“They can't all be world's biggest,” April says from her seat next to the driver. “You think they just keep building new ones every once in a while?”

Leo's good at this. At turning everyone’s attention so effortlessly, so quickly, it's hard to even realize it at times.

Mikey watches him for a moment, trying to catch his gaze.

It never happens.

***

One day, when April's 'no radio until I've had my coffee' rule keeps them all quiet for the good chunk of the morning, Mikey pulls out his sketchbook.

He hasn't touched it in a while, and the thought of doing so now feels heavy. But the road is quiet, the view behind the window nothing but grass and flat ground, and he feels warm.

It's not until he opens up the sketchbook, pencil gripped in one hand, that he feels Raph lean forward, looking over the back of his seat.

Mikey can't see his face, but he can feel the way Raph's fingers tense on the material, the slow exhale that escapes him.

Mikey feels his jaw clench, his jagged nerves already flaring up.

“I'm fine,” he states, before his brother has a chance to say anything.

He feels like his whole life is now revolving around those words.

Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't need help. Yes, I can do this on my own. Over and over again.

Mikey clenches his pencil a little tighter, the contrast of the white pages and his black compression gloves stark.

Raph makes a face, like he begs to differ, but is not sure if he's ready for that fight.

“Are you sure?” He asks despite it. “Raph doesn't want you to-”

“Raph.” Mikey turns in his seat, pushing against his seatbelt to look at him better. “I'll be fine.”

He knows that his stare tends to be intense at best and intimidating at worse. Luckily for him, that is exactly the reaction he's currently seeking.

“I know,” Raph placates. “I thought-”

He doesn't really finish. His mouth draws into a thin line, a vague hum rising in the back of his throat.

“Hey, Big Guy,” Leo says suddenly from his seat in the front (it's his third time in a row winning the paper-rock-scissors for it, and Mikey starts to suspect he's cheating, somehow). “It's okay. Leave him be.”

Raph gives him a look, one that only older brothers seem to be able to understand, until he finally sighs, falling back against his seat.

“Alright, alright, sorry.”

A flash of familiarity washes over Mikey.

In many ways, Leo's always been like this.

First to laugh, first to say 'I told you so', first to back him up, first to defend him, even when Mikey was elbows deep in teenage rebellion and barely gave him any ground to stand on.

He was funny, the coolest person ever, larger than life and it made Mikey's chest swell with pride to say: ''This is my big brother and he's my best friend''.

Leo turns to him, cheek rested against the headrest, sending him a conspiratorial smile. Then his gaze drops slightly to the sketchbook thrown over Mikey's lap.

His expression wavers, something complicated showing in his eyes, until it all collapses. He turns back, eyes on the road.

Mikey clenches his jaw, feeling his own smile fade.

***

Mikey falls in love with roadside dinners – head over heels.

The food is mediocre at best and beyond vile at worse, the floor always feels sicky, and the tables seem dirty even when he watches the waitress wipe them down.

But there's something about it.

About walking in, their cloaking brooches pined to their shirts, and piling into a booth. About laughing, arguing about the menu and anything else that comes to mind. About making everyone at the dinner give them a dirty look, because they're being obnoxious and they're being teenagers.

Moments like that make Mikey feel whole again. Better, even.

Infinite.

Like they're just normal kids on a trip to catch last breaths of freedom before college, and they're young and unburdened, they have nothing to be afraid of, and things like 'death' simply don't happen to people like them.

“I'm getting the eggs,” Raph announces finally, putting down his menu.

“How many portions? Six?” April teases.

It sounds like she's joking, but Raph seems to actually be considering that option, humming softly.

Mikey turns to look out the big window. Kansas is nothing but fields and grass, and he watches the few lonely trees sway in the wind.

Absentmindedly he rubs his hands together.

They feel dry and achy today, like something's pushing at the tight skin from underneath. It feels weird with so many fingers. He's not going to let that ruin his day.

“How come they don't have vanilla milkshakes?” Donnie huffs, turning the menu over again. “That's, like, the most basic option.”

No one questions him on why he wants a milkshake for breakfast, because he will be driving later, and having him behind the wheel in a bad mood feels like a death wish.

“How dare they,” Leo says, in that tone of his where they can never tell if he's joking or not.

The waitress, previously busy with trying to start the coffee machine (seemingly by punching it several times), finally walks up to them.

She's looking down at her notepad, and there's a vague, practiced smile on her lips. She's around their dad's age, maybe with kids of her own, because she doesn't seem all that bothered by all the noise and chaos they've been causing.

When she's standing in front of their table, she finally looks up.

“Hey, what can I-”

She goes quiet, all of the sudden.

Her eyes sweep over all of them, her mouth slightly open, like the words she's been speaking every day for so long have suddenly escaped her mind.

And this is Mikey's least favorite moment.

The moment the illusion breaks.

Because they're not normal kids, they're here because their whole world fell apart just a few months ago, and there's nothing any of them can do to change that.

Her eyes go from Raph’s eyepatch, to the scars covering April's and Donnie's faces and arms, to Mikey's palms, finally landing on the left sleeve of Leo's hoodie.

“Oh,” she says, quietly.

(Art by @nerdy-turtle-enthusiast)

Leo wouldn’t sit next to Mikey, which hurt, but it means he can see his face now, the way his expression folds in on itself, until there's nothing left but a blank slate. It's hard to tell when he barely looks like himself.

Mikey aches.

Donnie clears his throat, loudly and only a bit rudely. Carefully, he raises one eyebrow.

“Oh!” The waitress blinks, suddenly flustered. “I'm sorry, I just- I'm sorry.” She looks to the side, embarrassed. “What can I get for you?”

By the time they get their food, it all slowly rolls back to normal.

Leo's smiling and joking along, and if there's a slight downturn to his lip – they all pretend to not notice.

He finishes his portion faster than Raph, which is almost absurd, and Mikey quickly gets the feeling they'll be stopping again very soon for him to vomit it all back on the side of the road.

“I'll wait in the car, okay?” Leo says, pushing back his empty plate.

He doesn't wait for a replay, grabbing his jacket and exiting the dinner like it burned him.

Mikey watches him go.

“He just needs a moment,” Donnie says, following his brother to the car with his gaze through the window. “He'll be fine.”

Mikey wonders then, if any of them noticed what’s happening between him and Leo.

He tells himself no, because that is what he hopes for.

But that's another lie, probably.

***

They're stopped at some forgotten rest stop, and it's a quiet evening, the setting sun covering the horizon in a pink hue. It's the sort of view that makes Mikey want to step away for a moment and just watch, because there's only so much family time one can manage in one day.

He's not the only one.

He finds Leo sat on one of the covered benches, his back pressed against the plexiglass. The left sleeve of his hoodie was trimmed, and he's playing with a loose thread, eyes fixated on something in the distance.

There's a nervous feeling in Mikey's guts, like all the butterflies turned into a mush and he might throw up at any moment.

But it's a chance he has to take.

“That's coming undone,” he says, chin pointing to his sleeve.

Leo blinks slowly, turning to him, like he needs to take a moment to fully digest his words.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah.”

“Want me to fix it for you?”

He's not sure why he says it, because it was Dad who spent hours carefully altering every piece of clothing Leo owns. But he needs to say something.

“It's fine.”

They stay in silence for a moment, and Mikey turns his eyes to the horizon.

“What's so interesting out there?” He asks, not expecting to get a real answer.

Leo opens his mouth, stops for a moment.

“I don't... Know,” he says, but it sounds different.

Because he's been different since the Krang, and all of them know this by now.

He's quiet at the most unexpected of moments, distant and hazy, like your hand would go right through if you tried to reach him.

He smiles and laughs but it's not the same, like a speaker that's been dropped one too many time – everything sounds just slightly pitched.

Mikey wonders where he goes when he disappears like this.

“Gotta remind myself the world isn't all gray,” Leo says, suddenly. “Not like...”

He stops.

He blinks, looking at Mikey once again, and there's a strange expression, like he just realized who he's speaking to.

“Like what?”

“Like New York on a cloudy day,” Leo says, an easy smile fixed onto his face. “Come on, let's get back to the car.”

Mikey wants to scream.

Because they used to tell each other things like this, and Leo knows he knows, and he can't figure out why he's being lied to. Why his brother won't talk to him.

If he's trying to protect him in some misguided, backwards way, he's being a fool. If he thinks Mikey can't hear the way he wakes up some nights with a gasp, a silent scream still lingering on his lips. If he thinks Mikey doesn't notice the way he rubs at his chest sometimes, like he can still feel a linger of old pain there. If he thinks Mikey never notices the way he goes silent at the sight of red lights, static behind his eyes.

If he thinks Mikey doesn't have nightmares of his own.

Leo stands and Mikey wants to cling to him.

He wants to grab at his arms and dig in his claws and scream at him until Leo tells him what he's done wrong. Why he doesn't want to be his friend anymore.

He doesn't, and Leo pats at his arm as he passes him.

***

Utah steals Mikey's heart in all possible ways.

It's all red sand and dry land, cold night and the echo of something old and bigger than him in the wind, and stars that look back when he tilts his head up.

They camp further away from the road, where it feels like they're the only people left on the entire earth, and all of this, every moon, every rock, every breeze, is just for them.

They set up a small campfire inside an old metal barrel and sit around it for hours, swaddled in blankets and hoodies, and sweats, because the chill is calming, but unforgiving.

Mikey wears three layers at any given moment, curls up close to Raph in his sleep, and wishes the sun would never raise up again.

He wakes up one night, the sun still far behind the horizon, and there's a small rustle outside of his tent.

He doesn't stir at first, because his general aversion to anything horror related made his mind less likely to jump to axe murders and ghosts at the first opportunity.

But the sudden familiar footsteps make him frown, and he sits up. It's a full moon, and he watches Leo's shadow pass his and Raph's tent, his movements quiet but not silent.

Slowly, Mikey rises to his knees.

By the time he manages to pull on all of his clothes and crawl out of the tent without waking up his brother, Leo's already by the car, leaning against the hood, ankles crosses.

He's wrapped in jackets and hoodies, and they almost hide the way he flinches when he finally spots Mikey out of the corner of his eye. Almost.

“Hey. Why are you awake?”

Leo looks at him for a moment, then he squints slightly, like he's trying to hide a different expression.

“Why are you?”

Mikey considers telling him the truth but then doesn't.

“I had a nightmare.”

He feels bad lying when he doesn't need to, but it's worth it for how quickly Leo's face softens. It's half a truth away. He woke up this morning with cold sweat running down his back.

“Oh. Sorry.” Leo's quiet for a moment. Then, a little shyly: “Me too.”

It's a start, a small crack between the door and the frame, and Mikey throws himself to shove his foot into it.

“What was your about?” He asks.

Maybe it's a little too forward, because Leo doesn't answer him. He stares up at the night sky.

He's holding onto what's left of his left arm awkwardly, clenching and unclenching his fingers, like he's trying to soothe it over the layers of clothes.

Mikey's gaze lands on the side of the car, on the ugly smudges of paint he left on it, before quickly deciding he doesn't want to look at it any longer.

He walks up, sliding on the hood next to his brother.

“I've never seen a sky like this,” Leo confesses.

Mikey follows his gaze up, up, up.

“Yeah.”

“Not in New York.”

He says the last part oddly, and Mikey can't decide if it's homesickness, or the exact opposite. He looks down, watching Leo move his fingers again.

“Does that hurt?” He asks, pointing to his side with his chin.

“Not really,” Leo answers far too quickly, dropping his hand.

But Mikey knows he's lying.

There's some real elegance to the way Leo lies, like watching an expert work their craft. Would've fooled anyone else. Maybe even Mikey, just a few months ago.

But he sees the slight downturn to Leo's mouth, the way his jaw shifts in place, the way his chest staggers for a moment with every breath.

He's hiding pain, and it's the kind of pain Mikey knows all too well now.

“My hands hurt, too. Sometimes.” He stretches his arms, the scars on his shaky palms stark in the dim light.

He's trying to encourage vulnerability, but it must be the wrong thing to say, because his brother's mouth turns into a thin line, and he looks away.

His hand rests on the hood, like he's ready to push himself forward and run at any moment, and something in Mikey snaps.

“Are you mad at me?” He barks, finally.

Leo blinks, turning to him again. He seems slightly panicked, like that was the last thing he expected Mikey to say. Mikey would feel bad, if he wasn't so damn angry.

“What? No.”

He sounds honest. More than usual anyway. Mikey wants to believe him.

“You're being so weird around me.” He wraps a loose string from the edge of his hoodie around his finger. He doesn't pull it loose, because that would hurt more than it's worth. “I don't know what I did.”

Leo watches his hands, like he can't bear to look him in the eye.

“Nothing,” he says. “You've done nothing.”

Mikey bristles.

“Stop lying to me, that's so annoying.” He pushes his hands inside his pockets, and that finally makes Leo meet his gaze. “I feel like you hate me. I know you don't, but it feels like that, and I don't know why.”

It's all been brewing in him for longer than he realized.

It feels unfair.

He knows he's not entitled to Leo's attention, to his love, but it feels like he is, and he's past the point of caring about all the different ways in which that makes him selfish.

“I don't- Mikey.”

He says his name like Mikey just hurt him so deeply he's lost for words.

“Just tell me what's wrong,” he pleads. “Please.”

You're not alone, he wants to say. I want to be friends again.

I miss you.

Finally, Leo sighs, and it's like the breaking of a dam, his eyes suddenly glossy and wet in the moonlight.

“Mikey,” he says. “I ruined your life.”

That makes Mikey pause. All of it – his anger, sadness, bitterness – coming to a stop.

“What?” He asks, mostly for the lack of anything better to say.

And, because, really: what?

“I know you can't do art anymore.” Leo pushes himself away from the car, pacing nervously, counting down the fingers of his one hand. “I know you struggle at training. There are eggshells in everything you cook now and I-” He stops, taking a deep breath. “It's all because I did something stupid, and you had to save my ass.”

Mikey stares at him.

He stares and stares for what feels like hours, until he finally feels his voice return to him.

“Are you being deadass right now?”

There's the start of a laugh in his voice, but Leo must realize he doesn't find any of this funny, because his face remains appropriately miserable.

“I'm sorry.”

“Leo.” For a moment, Mikey wants to walk up to him. But then he doesn't, taking a breath. “If you ever thought, even for a second, that I wouldn't die for you, you were wrong.”

Leo laughs, a hollow and hysterical thing.

“Angelo,” he says, like he doesn't really believe he's being serious.

But he is.

He'd die for all of them, his whole family, over and over again.

“Master Michelangelo died opening that portal,” Casey told him months ago.

And Mikey thought: 'Yes. I would.'

He steps forward.

“You're right. You did a stupid thing. Because you're stupid and brave, and you always want to save everyone.” He walks up closer, taking one hand out his pocket to point it at Leo's chest. “And I saved your ass, because I love you.”

Leo's face softens, a small frown forming between his eyes.

“I wish you...” For a moment, Mikey thinks he might say: 'hadn't' and almost punches him square in the face for it. “I wish you wouldn't have to.”

“Me too,” he says, honestly. “But this isn't your fault. I knew what I was doing. Sort of.”

He doesn't want to say the last part out loud, but if he's being honest, he might as well go all out.

“I- Okay.”

Leo doesn't seem too sure, but it sounds like he's been holding all of this back a lot for a long, long time.

“You saved me too, you know?” Mikey asks. Leo looks at him like he didn't know that, and that's so absurd it almost makes him laugh for real. “You saved the entire world, idiot. And it-”

“Costed me an arm and a leg?” Leo smiles, all wobbly and unsure, and Mikey giggles, honestly.

“Exactly.”

“I was scared,” Leo says, “that you were going to hate me for it. I wouldn't blame you if you did. But I didn't want to see it.”

It's like weight off his shoulders, like finally digging far enough to notice the root of the problem. Even if he doesn't know quite what to do with it - he can see it now, and that makes everything click into place. “I won't.” Mikey holds out his hand, pinky pointed out. “Promise.”

Leo wraps their fingers together, shaking their hands a little.

“Yeah. Okay.”

And for a moment, it feels like they're kids again, sharing secrets and promises in fortresses made of blankets.

Leo lets their hands drop.

“Gosh!” Mikey tilts his head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can't believe you got me so worried over something so stupid.”

“Sorry,” Leo says, and it sounds like he's only half joking.

He holds out his arm, fingers flexing.

And Mikey doesn't hesitate to reach forward, wrapping his arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Leo holds him like he's a lifeline, like he's afraid one of them will disappear if he lets go.

“Are you going to stop avoiding me now?” Mikey asks.

He meant for it to come out as a joke, but Leo's voice sounds dangerously shaky when he responds:

“Yes. I'm sorry.”

Mikey just holds him tighter.

He doesn't think this fixes everything. He doesn't think this fixes much at all, all things considered.

But the deep knot inside his gut is gone, and when he wakes up tomorrow – his home will feel whole again. That's all he wants for now, really.

They can deal with the rest later.

Step by step.