#peak family dynamic right there

[beigetiger]

Hiiiii! I was wondering, what’s your Take on Mud reacting to Ken even having Mel in the first place? I mean, there’s no way he didn’t question that he just HAD a kid, and not like Breadhead, who’s a golem(?)

OH, I HAVE THOUGHTS ON THIS

I imagine that adoption is pretty common in the gaslight district, since people can't have bio kids anymore and sometimes you just really want someone to be your family member and/or need a next of kin in case something happens to you. So Ken coming home one day with a daughter? Probably not too weird to Mud. His reaction was probably more on par to "another one? Really?".

Genuinely no idea how Ken would have gotten around Mel growing older though, maybe he literally kept her in a closet or something for a while until she was physically mature enough to get to interact with her brother and uncle. In that case, Mud probably would have taken a liking to her for her personality pretty quickly. She's exactly the kind of kid he'd find fun to interact with, even if he doesn't like kids.

And side headcanon: I really don't think Mud wanted to be an uncle in the first place. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would want children anywhere in his vicinity. But then Ken ended up with two kids and he kinda went fuck it and helped co-raise the kids anyway. Mel's his favourite because she's reckless and consistently breaks her dad's rules, and he finds that fun.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[vinnyvamppp]

You know that to be Desired fic you wrote? Would you be willing to write one Where Mainstream Mark finds out about his other versions wanting his childhood, he gets jealous and decides he has to have them in every way possible, and his other versions can go fuck themselves.

To Be Wanted

Note: Great minds think alike, I actually created this the day after the first one blew up and scrapped it. I'm going on a whim and making this as literal as possible before delving into everything.

Synopsis: He was wrong, he was foolish, and he's here to make up for his mistakes. Of course, you were always the better option, and no one else needs you the way he does. (To Be Desired ABRIDGED)

Warnings: Smut, Sub/Dom Dynamics, Multiple Sex Positions, Pussy Eating, Jealousy/Possessive, Porn w a Plot, Mentions of Anal, Slight Foot Fetish, Mentions of Other Variants, Switch!Mark Grayson, Switch!Reader (both are pretty subby), He needs that cookie real bad, etc.

Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,700 (Had to make it equal to the prequel)

Mark's knuckles ached from the last punch he threw— his breathing ragged as he hovered above the city, eyes locked onto him. Another him. He could charge headfirst immediately, but as his eyes landed upon the destruction and chaos wailing around him— he could only think one thing. I want to see her. You were independent and creative on the battlefield, but even he was angered and fearful. What if these versions of him convoluted your impression of him? He never had the chance to fully confess, and right now? he hated this with every fiber of his being.

The city was unrecognizable, reduced to a graveyard of twisted steel and crumbling concrete. While the screams of the dying were drowned beneath the thunderous collapse of once-proud skyscrapers. Ichor slicked the pavement—bodies crushed beneath rubble or torn apart mid-air—and through it all, the Variants rained destruction without hesitation like a merciless plague of living extinction.

He shot forward, propelling through clouds of smoke tickling him. Smoke settled in his mouth, tasting charred wood and something almost metallic, like blood burned to dust. It was acrid and suffocating, but now was a moment of clarity. He was bruised, costume tethered as blood seeped from cuts among his skin, knuckles bruised with his eye threatening to swell shut.

This needed to be the end of their tyranny, and soon.

As Mark’s body cut through the wind with an unparalleled determination, fist meeting bone with a nauseating crunch, the force of the strike vibrating across the man's face. The variant groaned, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth, before turning towards him with that smug, knowing grin. "You don't get it, do you?" he taunted. "I don’t blame you. You weren’t there when she finally realized she didn’t have to wait for you."

Mark’s heart slammed against his ribs. He knew what the man meant, of the power you possessed. The familial ability to pierce a tear in the universe and peak into what the future beheld. This was an opportune time for you to be dissuaded—he didn’t seem to be the only candidate pursuing you—not with them here.

"Shut up."

The Variant only chuckled, tilting his head. "They say the multiverse is infinite, but you know what every version of us wants? Her. And we don’t hesitate. We don’t string her along. We don’t let her slip through our fingers a second—"

A second time. He didn’t wish to acknowledge that he never chose you, even when fate had bound you two together. He was lovesickV that was his biggest fault. Mark grabbed him by the throat and drove him through a building before he could finish. Glass and concrete exploded around them as they crashed through another two stories. "You think I don’t hesitate because I don’t care?" Mark growled, pressing his forearm against his Variant’s windpipe. "You think I don’t want her?!"

The variant only smirked, even with his air supply cut off. "Then why am I the one she's been warming up to?" His eyes widened in pure panic and rage flashed white-hot in Mark’s vision. He reared back, ready to hit him again when—

"Mark?"

The sound of your voice cut through the chaos like a blade. His breath hitched, movements halting as if to show the hold you had on him. Your costume was worn—the usual well-manicured appearance now frazzled from wages of war, and dried blood flaked against your skin. That look on your face… was different from the ones he recalled in his childhood. The difference was that the fuzzy warmth you once had, was slowly fading into something neutral, common, amongst the glances you shared with everyone.

Mark turned, his heart lurching as he saw another variant landing just a few feet from you. This one wasn’t fighting. He was standing too close, looking at you like he already owned you. His lips are pursing to deceive you. 

The Variant beside you reached for your hand. You were actually listening to him, just how many had found you by now? How many professed their love? "Come on. You don’t belong with him. Not when we—"

Mark didn't let him finish. In a blink, he was there— yanking the variant away from you and slamming him into the pavement so hard the ground cratered beneath them. "She’s mine," Mark snarled, gripping the Variant by the collar and lifting him up just to punch him back down. The variant spat blood— barely conscious, but Mark wasn’t done. "I don’t care how many of you there are," Mark seethed, throwing the variant across the street. "She’s mine. You want her? Go fuck yourself." His voice cracked with the sheer intensity.

After a long moment of silence, he turned to face you. Even after that display, you were left silenced. Truthfully, you had begun to consider their words— was it bitterness from his previous relationship with Eve? Or perhaps the feelings you forced yourself to bury? Being a hero made it easy to turn a blind eye, once you became resentful enough.

Mark’s breathing is shaky as he approaches you, his hands still trembling from the fight—from watching them try to take you, try to twist your mind into thinking they were better for you. It makes his stomach churn and his blood boil all over again. Because what if you had believed them? What if he’d been too late? When truthfully, they never stood a chance. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice lower now— steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through him. “I don’t care what the others told you. I don’t care what they promised. They’re not me.” He awaited a response. Your lips parted, hesitation flickering in your expression. Not because you didn't feel something for him—he could see it. It was the uncertainty. Maybe even a little of the possessiveness still lingering in his tone.

So he softened. Mark reached out, his fingers barely brushing over yours as a silent question before running his thumb over your knuckles. The warmth nearly caused him to shiver. "I should have told you," he murmurs. "A long time ago. But I kept holding back because I thought—I don’t know, maybe I’d ruin things, maybe you didn’t see me the same way. But I can’t do that anymore. Not after seeing them try to take you away from me." You understood what he meant. This was his apology for abandoning you. Leaving when you received your powers—when he got his first girlfriend— when you needed a friend.

You stare at him, searching his face, your breathing uneven from adrenaline. He leans in, close enough that you can feel the way his breath trembles against your lips. "Tell me you want this," he demands with desperation. Your fingers trace along his jaw— voice a hushed whisper. “You threw a guy into the pavement for me, Mark. What do you think I want?”

Your voice is low but firm as you yanked him against you. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

Mark knows he should be careful, knows he shouldn’t let his emotions swallow him, but then you’re pulling him closer, your fingers threading into his hair—body molding against his like you’re giving him the permission he so desperately craves.

And just like that—his restraint snaps.

Your back is against the nearest wall before you can process it, his lips crashing into yours with a fervor that nearly steals your breath. It’s messy, desperate—his hands gripping your waist like he needs proof that you’re his. He makes a noise in the back of his throat—something between a gasp and a holy shit again—before his grip tightens.

He groans into the kiss, his fingers sliding under the torn edges of your costume, skimming over bruised skin. "God, you’re so—" He exhales sharply— lips trailing from your mouth down to the curve of your jaw, then lower— ghosting over the pulse at your throat. He couldn’t stop touching you. He wouldn't stop.

You shudder as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin. "Mark—"

"No, seriously," he mumbles between kisses, words muffled against your collarbone. He found you to be perfect. The light in the muddled mess of his life. He could barely let you speak— just wanting to prove to you that he would always be the better option. 

His voice is wrecked now— breathless with want, and when you roll your hips against his just to tease, his breath hitches.

"Oh, my God," he chokes, pressing his forehead against your shoulder for a second. "Okay. Okay,—we should probably go home now because if we keep this up, I won't be stopping.” He was right; it was probably best if the news didn’t catch wind of the actual Invincible getting frisky in public during such a time. You bite your tongue, teasing, "You sure?"

Mark groans, lifting you effortlessly, his hands firm against your thighs as he takes off, propelling you both through the sky in a blur. "I have literally never been more sure of anything in my life," he says, his voice tight as he tries not to focus on the way your body is pressed against his—or how obvious his erection is right now.

But you do notice.

And when you grind down against his lap mid-flight, he lets out a noise so strangled and needy that he nearly forgets to keep flying. "Oh—shit, that’s—okay, wow, you’re evil. You’re actually evil. Holy shit, I’m gonna crash us into a building."

Once you two clumsily entered the sliding door of his home, your clothes were quickly strewn across the kitchen floor. He didn’t waste any time—his lips were on yours like a magnet—the taste of you intoxicating like he’d imagined. At this moment, he realized he would’ve never reacted the same for another woman. Excitement swelled his veins as you two collapsed against the couch. The renewed energy powering his body through its injuries.

Every part of you was his. From your knuckles to your shoulders, to your neck and collarbones, breasts— down to your toes. He’d make sure of it as every part of you was riddled with his saliva-ridden kisses. "I should’ve done this sooner—I should’ve made sure you knew you were mine before they even had the chance to try." He heaved— muscled body appearing from the crevices of your flesh. “No one else gets to touch you like this." His voice had a slight rasp, nearly distracting you from the harsh yank against your panties. At the sight alone he groaned— hands moving at inhuman speeds as he stripped himself of his boxers and the tight confines of your bra.

He moves lower, his lips tracing over your stomach— tongue dipping into your navel. You feel a rush of anticipation as he moves lower, his lips claiming your thighs. He parts your legs, his tongue tracing over your skin, his fingers moving to touch you. That’s when it happens— His tongue, almost hesitant, licks your cunt. Oh. You’re sweet like sugar all over. The realization dawned on him as his pupils dilated— lips messily smushed against your labia, and the rough texture of his dry tongue raked against your clit. The arousal that pooled from you was like water— his tongue seeking hydration. Your hips slowly rolled against his face; the soft mewls vibrating against your throat spurred him further.

It was almost sensual, slow as a reminder of who was between your legs right now. His muscular arms locked your hips into place as his tongue grew brutal. Its rapid— pleasurable lashes had you seeing stars. Just as you approached a quick orgasm, his tongue delved inside you, tongue-fucking you as far as his tongue could possibly reach. His nose nudged rhythmically against the bundle of nerves as his fingers glided up your abdomen— mapping out every curve to his memory. His hips rutting desperately against the now-damp couch cushion.

The quiet sound of the kitchen faucet dripping made your moans sound eerily loud. Your fingers roughly travel across his muscled forearm as your back arches into his mouth. With harsh gasps, your fingers roughly tapped him as he finally ripped the climax he so desired from you, his mouth covered in your scent. Divine.

Bringing himself up, his lips captured yours once more— your groans responding to one another. “You’re mine too, you know. But I like watching you get all worked up about it,” you mused breathlessly. He chortled quietly to himself— reddened and pulsing cock waiting readily in his grasp. Stroking it a few times between gasps, he spoke almost darkly amused. "They thought they could steal you from me, but they don’t know you like I do. They don’t know what you like. But I do." Before you could question him further on his remark, his hips snugly snapped against yours. His dick parted through you with ease as you both whined. The rhythm started slow, purposeful—punctuating with each thrust until he grew consumed with lust. Driving himself forward, the couch rocked from the unnatural movement. He had you completely beneath him, knees tucked against your chest and spread wide as his body pressed flush against yours. The wind was knocked out of you with every pummel, leaving you nearly salivating at the sensation. The raw sensation of your nipples rubbing against his chest adds a pleasurable sting to the mix, your hands now clawing at his shoulders.

"Mine. Mine. Mine," he muttered against the shell of your ear, his jaw unnaturally tight as he fought the urge to cum here and now. You were his—not theirs—just his alone in his suburban neighborhood when he should be putting an end to this. This was his moment to be selfish; to him, his need to defend was over until he devoured every inch of you. "God, I—fuck, I can't stop touching you. I don’t want to stop. You feel too good; you’re—oh my God, you’re everything." He rambled, abruptly pulling out, and a schlick sound echoed from between your legs. Suddenly, you were in his lap—pressed firmly against his torso, his hands wrapping around the width of your shoulders as he resheathed himself once more, his hips pistoning deeper into you. All you could manage was to bounce dumbly against him, the meat of his neck being your sanctuary as the skin absorbed the pornographic sound of your moans. He was breathless, barely able to contain himself as his skin became crowded in a red flush.

Then again—another position change, your bodies tangled together effortlessly, one of his legs hooked over your hip while the other remained stretched out beneath him. The angle was deep, intimate—allowing him to press closer, his body half-wrapped around yours as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Every movement sent a slow, rolling wave of pleasure through you, his hands gripping your waist to pull you even closer. His breath was warm against your skin—lips brushing against your shoulder as he murmured your name between each heated thrust. He slowly came up, hands spreading your ass cheeks as he watched himself be sucked into you willingly. The sight of your puckering hole clenching with each rock made his dick weep for its release. One hand melded against the fat of your ass, the other running up your sculpted calves until his lips mark your ankles and feet, his tongue swirling around your toe. "S... Say it again. Say you’re mine. Please—just say it." He pleaded, more so demanding as his movements became rougher— the couch shifting forward a few inches. “They don’t matter… I’m yours, Mark.” Your words were cut between burying your head in the couch pillows. “T-They don’t matter…” He echoed, a pleased groan vibrating against your foot.

Again. You were suddenly flipped as he stood, his feet backing into a wall as his knees nearly gave out from the sensations. You were hoisted into his arms as he bullied himself inside of you, both of your combined voices growing weak and raw. His neck craned lower as his tongue delved a nipple into his mouth—your skin was cold from a combination of sweat and his saliva. Creamy fluid leaked down his shaft as he unknowingly came from overstimulating himself. His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, as you scratched up the length of his back, causing him to yelp. His canines finally blossoming their first hickey against your chest. Soon, his lips found yours, the rugged ends of your teeth nipping his lips hard enough to draw blood.

Not that it mattered—every scratch, bite, and pull only cemented one undeniable truth: you were his. And he wasn’t done. Not after feeling the slick warmth of your tongue against him, not after the way his thumb teased your rim while he moved inside you. Not even when he leaned you against the couch— having your legs straddle his as his tip prodded the entrance of your ass.

He seemed truly hellbent on caressing every inch. For further context, the previous two parts are listed in the MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[kianamaiart]

Growing an audience takes time and getting people to care about your characters can often take more time. I've done a bunch of OCs in the past but none of them really got traction until my IDWTBAMG OCs. I steadily grew my social media following for well over a decade. A lot of checking socialblade, looking at analytics and generally drawing/posting everyday. I have a whole doc available about this type of stuff.

There's no particular shortcut other than happening to go viral or getting really lucky. But I will say "branding" or carving out a niche for yourself over time helps. Although I've been in a number of different fandoms over the past 15 years I've been on the internet, the kind of art I do has been pretty consistent. Lots of shorter, light hearted comics or vignettes highlighting relationships (be them romantic, platonic or familial) and people started enjoying my work for my writing style more so than just what fandom I was creating for.

Finding your community, creating stuff that aligns with those communities and engaging with others is huge. A lot of my work prior to IDWTBAMG centered queer people (specifically sapphics), Black and Asian folks and stylistically is very anime/modern western cartoon inspired. It's what became known for in fandom spaces and what people were following me for. So when I finally did make IDWTBAMG, a concept with anime influences, in a western cartoon style, with two Black, sapphic leads, it just fit right into what I was already doing. Like if you grew your following from doing cute, slice of life stuff, then suddenly dropped a psychological horror comic, chances are it's not gonna grab a large part of your audience. Might bring some new folks in, but you're ultimately kinda starting over and pivoting (that's why rebrands are hard to pull off). This may not be the best example but hopefully you get what I mean. Appeal to the communities you've fostered!

I hate using corporate speak for art but if you ARE trying sell your ideas to people and get your work out there, you do kinda have to learn how to market yourself and your art to some extent. Get in the head of a marketing agent or a brand manager. What's popular right now? How can I use that to my advantage? What times should I be posting my artwork to get the most eyes on this? Who is my target audience and how do I effectively appeal to them while staying true to my own work? Stuff like that. Genuinely, studying how social media managers operate as well as just observing how businesses market their products helped me a lot. "Okay I'm making this animatic, but it won't come out for the next four months. How do I keep people interested and hyped for that amount of time leading up to the pilot's release? I'll keep doing comics here and there so people connect with the characters by the time the pilot comes out. Once I get he VAs recorded, I'll make posts to get people hyped for the casting. I'll upload snippets and behind the scenes stuff to give people a taste of what's to come. I'll release during Black History Month since this is a Black led project with Black characters. I'll have a specific upload time at peak hours to get a good amount of people watching for the premiere and to give the pilot a good running start." This was all stuff I was taking into consideration and planning for.

Then generally, I think people connect to characters more than anything. You can have a cool concept and fun world building ideas but if your execution is bad and your characters aren't compelling, what's the point, y'know? IDWTBAMG isn't a particularly novel concept imo, but I think its strengths lie in the characters and how they interact. The concept is just a tool to give the character dynamics and relationships legs to stand on. So few of the comics I've done with these guys have to do with their lore, it's just small interactions of the girls in class, at a convenience store or just talking to each other in a void. Even though it's simple, that's often the kind of thing people connect with.

Then there's just the technical aspect of having appealing drawing! Getting better at your craft, if nothing else, is good for catching eyes and helping with your execution of your project. While it's not always necessary, I think it helps a lot. I know there's a lot of people who follow me just because they personally like my art style and character design.

Not sure how helpful this actually is LOL. It really does just kinda take time. We all have to start somewhere. I was a "small artist" too at one point. It was years of trial and error, mental breakdowns, finding my own artistic voice and posting artwork almost daily for like 5 years straight. I do think that's why IDWTBAMG ended up being so special to me. It really does feel like a culmination of everything I've learned and all that hard work up to this point and people can kinda feel that.

[princesssmars]

so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

[erosastro]

Pick a pile three times and let’s get a peak into your future

Home/Family Life (Pile one: Tigers Eye, Pile Two: Amethyst and Pile Three: Black Tourmaline)

Pile one: Tigers Eye

At the moment, your home and family life might feel a little chaotic. Maybe like you’re pulled in every direction and don’t know how to ground yourself. You may be feeling a lot of internal conflict regarding something; you’re questioning things and dynamics, I’m hearing. There might be secrets or manipulation that you’re trying to work through. This will turn around, the key is finding your inner strength, it’s looking beyond the veil and staying true to yourself. I keep hearing self love. There’s going to be a very powerful and much needed time of introspection in order for you to stay grounded and learn to trust your intuition because you’re going to come out of this as the queen of cups. Don’t be afraid to dig a little deeper to find things within yourself that maybe you’re too scared to face at the moment or are working up the courage to. Leo energy is very strong. It’s all about your confidence and believing in yourself, pile one.

Pile two: Amethyst

I keep hearing closure? And I’m hearing someone saying that they’re sorry. This could be you or someone else saying this. Pile two, you need to put the love you give to others into yourself as well. Learn to trust your inner guidance. I’m seeing here that maybe wounds from when you were younger, perhaps from a father/masculine figure has hindered your confidence and the way you see the world. Something recently may not have worked out the way you wanted it to and that might be what the closure is regarding. But trust in the process of what’s unfolding for you, trust your ideas and look at the bigger picture. There’s lots of Gemini energy as well which is related to the third house so there might also be some siblings wounds that need tending to. For some of you, someone close to you may have moved away and now that’s leaving you very lost. But trust me there are answers in what you don’t see right now. They’re coming and that give and take it about to become equal. You just need to try and see the bigger picture. Sometimes rejection is redirection.

Pile Three: Black Tourmaline

Pile your energy is infectious. I think you’re definitely shining brightly right now. You may have come out of a very mentally exhausting cycle and have finally learnt how to put yourself first, to nurture and take care of yourself and oof baby that confidence is growing. I think you’re also splurging on nice things perhaps a bit too much but honestly you deserve it. Your current energies are great and being carried over into future energies is what I’m seeing. You’re learning how to balance your home and work life and resting when you need to (if this is something you’re still learning I see you nailing it in the near future). You’re learning how to believe in yourself and the universe and embracing all that comes with it. This is a very abundant time for yourself. If any of you are trying to get pregnant, I see that this might be happening soon as well (only take it if it resonates please!) continue on this trajectory because you’re unlocking such wonderful parts of yourself that you can share with your family/within your home. I also heard someone say that they’re really proud of you.

Your career (Pile one: Selenite, Pile two: Agate, Pile three: Celestite)

Pile one: Selenite

I’m hearing that you do not need to do everything on your own lol. I also see some massive burnout right now. You might have lost your spark or inspiration to what you’re doing but I hear that it’s not exactly feeding your soul. Perhaps the work itself or people feel like this. But you’re definitely working on it or will be in the near future. I think you’re trying to find your purpose here and it’s related to something you already know you love. It might not be conventional or it might feel out of reach but the first step is accepting or seeking help from others. Everything you’ve worked for will pay off. You are more than good enough to reach your goals; you just have to try to stop micromanaging. There’s strong Capricorn energy in this pile.

Time frame: five months/28 weeks stick out to me

Pile Two: Agate

You might currently be trying to make something work that doesn’t. I’m hearing that it might be because it’s financially secure and has good pay. But deep down you’re stressed tf out lol. You’re worried about the future and I’m hearing for some of you your family legacy? I feel like you tell yourself it’s just your bad luck and talk yourself down. This might be from habits in your past when you were younger but it’s time to let go of things that aren’t serving you. You seem like creative souls and your soul yearns to do something more. I hear more than just a soul sucking 9-5. It might be too risky but I think you’re going to realise that it might be worth the risk and once you do, a brand new start/beginning is coming for you. The wheel will turn in your favour. Nothing in your life is set in stone. You have the power to change it if you’re brave enough. This creative endeavour may be something to do with your voice/music or fashion for some of you. Please remember you’re more powerful than you think. Once you grasp that, you can change your entire world.

Time frame: 10 months and for some I hear six/nine months/ weeks.

Pile Three: Celestite

Lovely energies right off the bat. You know what you want pile three and you’re determined to get it. Some of you may be trying to move to another city/country for a job or have already done so. The only thing I see here is that you’re questioning yourself and your abilities? You might be listening to a lot of other people’s opinions but honestly, spirit is saying that as long as you’re happy, they don’t need to matter, to get out of your head. For some of you I see that you might be coming out of a cycle and are trying to get onto a path that’s true to who you are. There might have been some questioning your self-identity and this might have been from other people but whatever it is that you see for yourself, you have the power to get it. You just have to get rid of those self-limiting beliefs that are keeping you up at knight. Spirit is also saying that your journey is important so be patient and gentle with yourself. A lot of you might be empaths, so be careful you don’t absorb everyone else’s energy. Also that if things don’t work out exactly how it’s planned, you’re fine to try a different route, it doesn’t have to be only one way.

Time frame: Gemini season might be significant but otherwise this one isn’t giving me a specific time frame.

Your love life (Pile One: rose quartz, Pile Two: Spirit Quartz, Pile Three: Pyrite)

Pile one: Rose quartz

You might be heavy into manifesting a specific person or have an idea of a person that you’re set on manifesting. Spirit is saying that you’re very sure of yourself and your abilities at the moment but you may need to take a step back to evaluate what it is you really want. Not everything might be realistic/practical right now. You may have a group of people that might put you through the wringer before meeting the one you spend your life with. I see you might have to release some toxic exes/cycles as well but the wheel will turn in your favour. When you meet this person, they may be shy so you may have to end up making the first move. I also see that you may be coming out of a really bad relationship when you meet this person.

Significant times/signs: Pisces is heavy, then Virgo and Gemini and Capricorn

Pile two: Spirit quartz

Pile two your energy!! I think you may have already met someone you will spend the rest of your life with or are already in a deep commitment with. If you haven’t, I see this coming in hot before you know it. You’re connected deeply with spirit/God/the universe and I think you’re already in a great place of appreciation. Because of your faith, the love you’re manifesting will come in and it’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted. This person is someone you can be weird around, is what I’m hearing. It might feel like you or them are under a spell whenever you’re with them lol. Deep love and possible soulmate connection.

Significant time/seasons: heavy Libra, Virgo, Gemini

Pile Three: Pyrite

Pile three you are more powerful than you know and your voice deserves to be heard. I think you might be going through some tough times at the moment. Perhaps something major in your life has ended and you’re not sure what to do or for some, you’re stuck in an unhealthy relationship and don’t know how to get out. The message is to let God/the Universe/Spirit in. You are being led in the right direction. Find it within yourself to do what your heart is telling to you do in tandem with your mind. Let go because you need to. Once you do, and you finally move forward, you’ll find your divine counter part. But this is only when you take control and let go of what you need to, even if this is past beliefs. This will be a very stable and healthy relationship and it might actually be in a whole different country or city. Maybe on a cruise for some. Or you bond over something regarding the ocean. Please stay strong though, pile three. You are worthy of real love.

Significant times/seasons: strangely enough I don’t see any period sticking out. But strong earth energy in general so that may be significant

[strayingawayy]

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 1: whiskey, regret, and other engagement traditions

read introduction here

word count: 3100 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content (maybe eventual smut if i have the strength to), emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, mentions of public scandal and reputation damage, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: oh my god she's here. chapter 1 is here. i have no clue as to how this is going to end but i put my whole soul, heart, brain and dick into this fic. (which is a lot, mind you) thank you for the support on a whimsical little intro i wrote at my grandparents' house while my dog slept on my feet. thank you thank you thank you. chapter 2 coming next weekend. hopefully. also omg sho's first non lower caps fic

playlist. (coming soon)

─── Lee Minho had always been a man who thrived in chaos. Corporate wars, high-stakes meetings, and PR disasters were his playground. But even he couldn’t have predicted the one nightmare he’d spent years running from would land right back in front of him, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, flashing a smile that had ruined him once before.

He could handle anything…

Except the one person who had, through one night alone, known exactly how to bring him to his knees.

Lee Minho liked to think of himself as a man who could handle anything.

Corporate warfare? Child’s play. High stakes negotiations? His playground. He could charm billionaires over black coffee and through a simple peak of his collarbone, crush competitors with a smile, and walk out of a scandal cleaner than he went in, usually with a headline the press couldn’t stop foaming over.

Adaptability was his superpower. Precision, his trademark. Control? Non fucking negotiable.

At least, it had been, until you happened.

Again.

He stared at you, his supposed fiancé(e), the ghost of one of his most notable past mistakes, and thought—briefly, desperately—that maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he had worked himself into a stress-induced psychotic episode, and in reality, he was rocking back and forth in his office chair while his assistant frantically called for medical assistance. Would he be embarrassed that this would be the second time this would be happening? Maybe. Would he atleast be overjoyed by the fact that you weren't standing before him, far more gorgeous than all those years ago? Absolutely.

But no. This was real. You were real. This was happening.

You were still standing there, looking just as horrified as he felt, though, annoyingly, still unfairly attractive. Time had been disgustingly kind to you. And you had that same look in your eyes as before, the one that told him you were about seven seconds away from causing him severe emotional distress. And possibly a boner. Although he wasn't drunk enough for that. Not yet, atleast.

His brain short circuited as he watched you approach the table. You, of all people. He had been expecting a stiff, glass-of-champagne, charity-gala kind of person. Not you—the human embodiment of bad decisions and incredible, incredible sex.

Minho could laugh. His parents had unknowingly betrothed him to his favourite one-night stand. Brilliant.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” you finally said, sliding into the chair across from him.

“I wish I was,” Minho muttered, picking up his glass of whiskey and downing half of it in one go.

“So,” you said, resting your elbows on the table. “Long time no see.”

Minho blinked at you. Long time no see? You were acting like you’d bumped into him at Tesco, not like you were about to be married to the man you once absolutely ruined in a hotel room after a night of reckless decisions and expensive cocktails.

You, who had once dragged him into a bathroom stall at some questionably pricey nightclub and ruined him for every person he fucked after. Which he unashamedly agreed, were a lot. And the worst part was perhaps, that he remembered everything. He remembered the way you had looked at him that night, like you knew exactly what you were doing, like you had been born to make him suffer in the best possible way. He remembered your voice, the way you had laughed at him when he’d tried to act cool and ended up tripping over his own shoes, too fancy for him at the time. And he remembered the morning after, waking up alone, the only trace of you being a note scrawled on hotel stationery that simply read:

cheers for that. 10/10. no notes.

Minho had never been so simultaneously offended and impressed in his life.

And now? Now he was supposed to marry you? Spend forever with you...or atleast attempt to?

He took another large sip of whiskey.

“So,” you said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “How’s life been treating you? Still a bit of a man whore, or have you finally learned to keep it in your tailored trousers?”

Minho inhaled sharply through his nose. “I am a legitimate businessman.”

“Ah, so still a man whore,” you mused, nodding sagely.

Minho chose to ignore you.

"This… is a mistake," he muttered, running a hand through his usually well tamed hair. "This has to be a mistake."

"Oh, absolutely. Because otherwise we'll have to tell our parents we can’t get married because we’ve already seen each other naked," you say, leaning back in your chair with an unimpressed look. The very same that had drawn Minho to you that night. Because who did you think you were? Ignoring his wit and charm as he sat in the club's sofa, basking in attention and alcohol? The arrogant lad had decided that night, to prove himself to you. And prove, he did. A decision he didn't otherwise regret...until now.

Minho groaned and tried to reach over to his glass of whiskey, only to realise you were already drinking from it. "I swear to God, this is karma. This is divine punishment for my past sins."

"Well, considering your past sins include half of Central London, yeah, probably," you said with a shrug, swirling the now empty crystal glass.

He glared at you, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. You, in contrast, beamed at him with the kind of saccharine sweetness that suggested you were enjoying every second of his suffering. Minho noted internally, that you'd make a terrible actor, given that while the smile made it seem as though he was the only one seconds away from throwing up, your bouncing knee gave you away.

Minho, for his part, looked as though his soul had momentarily left his body. He blinked slowly, like someone trying to wake from a very specific, very inconvenient nightmare.

"Right," he said eventually, clapping his hands together in a sharp, business-like motion, as though trying to galvanise himself into action. "Let’s get this over with. How are we going to get out of this engagement?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if the matter were no more serious than choosing what to have for lunch. "Run away to Spain? Fake your death? Oh! You could seduce my grandmother so she convinces my father to call it off?"

"I am not seducing your grandmother."

"Coward."

Before Minho could offer a retort—no doubt a scathing one—a waiter, appeared at your table. He was the very picture of refined hospitality: all polite smiles, pressed shirt cuffs, and the faint waft of expensive cologne that trailed behind him like a signature.

"Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?"

"Whiskey. Double. Actually, just bring the bottle," Minho said, without so much as a blink, eyes still on you.

"Make that two," you added, not missing a beat, but still being polite and stable enough to break eye contact with Minho and smile at the waiter.

The attendant gave a courteous nod and retreated, leaving behind a faint trail of bergamot and judgement.

Minho exhaled slowly and dropped his head into his hands for a moment before glancing up at you, utterly defeated.

"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered, as if saying it aloud might somehow lessen the blow.

Minho barely had a moment to wallow in the tragic comedy of his predicament — engaged, against all logic, to a person who had just suggested seducing their own grandmother — before reality doubled down.

It came in the form of a booming, far-too-cheerful voice that could only belong to one man.

“Ah, Minho, you’ve met your fiancé(e)! Wonderful!”

The words rang through the restaurant and Minho flinched so hard he nearly knocked over the cutlery. He didn’t dare turn around. There was no need. He knew that voice. That was the voice of a man who thought forced betrothal was not only acceptable, but downright romantic.

His father.

Minho visibly recoiled, gripping the edge of the table as if bracing for impact. He had to physically resist the very natural urge to bang his forehead repeatedly against the pristine linen tablecloth.

And then, his parents descended upon the table in full force — exuding money, control issues, and the smug satisfaction of people who had just solved a problem by creating three more.

His mother was dressed in a sleek, couture suit that probably required its own bank account, looking every inch the woman who judged people based on the mineral content of their bottled water. His father wore the expression of someone who’d just sealed a lucrative merger and genuinely believed his son should be grateful for it.

And then there was your dad.

Looking every bit like the kind of man who once tried to bribe a headmaster with a case of vintage wine and a framed photo of himself shaking hands with a minor royal. So what if you weren't the best at studies during school? Was it really your fault that your Physics teacher was a bigger bitch than daddy dearest here?

Minho had never met him before, but he looked exactly as one might expect the father of someone like you to look—sharp suit, sharper glare, and the quiet intensity of a man who considered emotional vulnerability a personal failure. He radiated a kind of heavy, generational disappointment, like someone who’d been sighing over your life choices since the moment you learned how to form opinions of your own.

“Hello, sweetheart,” your dad said, planting a quick kiss on your forehead, affectionate in the way a CEO might congratulate a junior employee for not burning the office down. Then he turned to Minho, assessing the man who was supposed to be his future son-in-law with a look that would've made 16 year old Minho audibly whimper.

Your husband-to-be, drawing out every ounce of his professionalism, business acumen, and carefully cultivated adult composure, managed to respond with:

“Hi.”

Brilliant. Smooth. Absolutely nailed it. James Bond could never.

Your dad, unsurprisingly, looked as though he’d just been personally insulted.

Minho’s own parents, however, were beaming across the table, undoubtedly proud of their matchmaking skills.

“This is perfect,” his mother gushed, settling into her seat like she’d orchestrated the entire evening herself (she had). “I knew you two would suit each other.”

Minho let out a laugh that could only be described as emotionally strangled. Suit each other? Yes, absolutely. Because nothing screamed long term compatibility like a one-night stand from his blackout phase that he'd spent the past few years actively repressing, only to now be legally tethered to it in holy matrimony.

“So,” your dad said, leaning back in his chair with all the gravitas of a man about to sign a trade deal. “Shall we discuss the terms of this marriage?”

Terms. Terms. Marriage. Minho wasn’t sure which part of that sentence he found more horrifying — the casual contract language or the undeniable implication that none of this was a joke.

Minho looked at you, searching your face for some kind of solidarity. Instead, he found you sipping your whiskey like it was just another Wednesday, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed—like this whole thing wasn’t giving you heart palpitations.

But oh, it was.

You weren’t calm. You were resigned. You’d played this game before. You knew exactly how your father operated: charm first, control second, and condescension somewhere in between. This wasn’t a dinner—it was a business meeting. And you were already sick of it.

“Well,” his father said briskly, “the wedding will take place in three months.”

Minho choked violently on his drink. “Three months?!”

“Yes,” his mother replied smoothly, not even blinking. “Any longer and people will start gossiping.”

Gossiping. Of course. Because obviously, public perception was the real villain here.

“Three months is plenty of time,” your dad added, nodding with the calm authority of a man who hadn’t even asked how you felt about any of this.

Minho's brown eyed flickered to you again, looking for help. A hotline number. A hint of rebellion. Something. Anything.

You just smiled at him.

It wasn’t kind.

“Now then,” your dad continued, “what about a prenup?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Minho’s father nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have our legal teams draft it immediately.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” Minho cut in, finally finding the will to form sentences again. “But- do I get a say in this?”

His mother tilted her head in that familiar, patronising way that suggested she thought his input was adorable but entirely unnecessary.

“Minho, darling,” she said, her tone one of pure condescension, “this is for your own good.”

Your dad chimed in, nodding. “If either of you had a reliable romantic track record, we wouldn’t be here. But let’s be honest-” he waved a hand vaguely in your direction “-you don’t, and-” he turned to Minho, gaze sharp and deeply insulting,“-you certainly don’t.”

You smiled tightly, jaw clenched just enough that it hurt.

Minho felt his soul attempt to vacate his body. Right there. In the middle of this overpriced, mood-lit, jazz-playing nightmare of a restaurant. He was going to die. And the only thing good about a death here would be that Art Blakey was playing in the background.

“So it’s settled,” his mother said brightly, with finality in her voice, “Three months from now, we’ll have a wedding.”

Minho turned to you. You turned to him.

You raised your glass in a slow, sarcastic toast.

“To our bright and happy future,” you said, voice honeyed, but eyes suddenly cold.

And your father smiled like he’d just won. Because unbeknownst to the two of you, he had.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Minho had made a lot of terrible decisions in his life. A truly impressive number. Enough to warrant a multi-part documentary series, probably titled Lee Minho: A Lifetime of Questionable Choices—with dramatic re-enactments, ominous voiceovers, and a theme song that sounded like a slow motion car crash. His friends could probably star in it too.

But agreeing (not really) to marry you?

Oh, that was shooting straight to the top of the list. Hall of fame. Permanent exhibit in the Museum of Regret.

Because it had been barely twenty four hours since the disaster that was your engagement dinner, and already, he felt his life being ruined, one sarcastic comment at a time.

“So, how long have you two been engaged?” Felix asked innocently, if one could call anything Felix did innocent, while stirring sugar into his overpriced cold brew.

Minho looked up from his coffee, eyes already tired. He’d made the mistake of inviting you to brunch with his friends. In public. With witnesses. Clearly, he’d suffered a blow to the head.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” you gushed. You reached over to squeeze Minho’s hand like you actually meant it. Maybe you did. Minho didn't want to bother with the details if it meant another migraine. “We’ve been informally engaged for a whole, what, twelve hours now? It’s been magical. Truly life altering. I can’t wait to be legally bound to this man forever.”

Minho squeezed your hand back. Hard.

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Overjoyed. Thrilled. Best day of my life.”

Felix, the little gremlin, grinned, his mind already turning your worrying marriage into a soap opera. “Well, it’s about time you settled down, hyung. You’ve been a menace to society for years.”

“First of all, that is highly inappropriate. I am a legitimate businessma-”

“Mate,” Chan, Minho’s business partner, cut in. “You once forgot a woman’s name mid-bloody-date.”

“And she had to remind you,” Hyunjin added, sipping his neon-green liquid. Whatever it was.

“And you still got her number,” Seungmin chimed in, looking vaguely offended on behalf of all women. You'd be sure to send his number to your recently heartbroken friend.

Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he thought bringing you to brunch was a good idea? Why had he brought you into public? With his friends at that? He had practically announced a 'Bully-Lee-Minho' day himself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said brightly. Too brightly. “He’s very devoted now. Wakes up every morning and just stares at me in awe, whispering about how lucky he is.”

Felix gasped, awestruck at the beauty of love at first sight. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said, smiling. “He even cries a little.”

Minho nearly inhaled his coffee. “I do not-”

“He does,” you said solemnly, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s beautiful.”

Chan leaned back in his chair, way too entertained. “Well, I can’t wait for the wedding. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet,” Minho said quickly, cutting you off before you could say something like ‘we’re thinking next week, on a volcano.’ “We’re taking our time.”

“Oh, obviously,” you added, ever helpful. “We have to enjoy the honeymoon phase before I find out all his deep, dark secrets. Like his skincare routine, or lack thereof. Which I'll have to change either way. Or his browser history.”

Hyunjin gagged. “Please. Spare us.”

“No, no,” you mused, eyes alight with mischief. “I think he’s hiding something. Like a secret past. Maybe he was a failed K-pop trainee. Maybe he’s got a tattoo that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ Or he owns a mug that says Boss Babe.”

"I actually gifted him that." Chan added, sipping his protein smoothie.

“Or if he has a pet rock named Gary, considering one of his girlfriends was Australian,” Hyunjin added and Chan nods proudly.

“Or an old TikTok account where he lipsyncs to early 2000s emo hits,” Seungmin said.

“I knew you gave eyeliner energy,” Felix muttered.

Minho buried his face in his hands. “Please. I am begging you all to stop.”

You just leaned in, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled sweetly. “Aww. He’s shy.”

Minho resisted the urge to walk directly into London traffic.

But even as the table erupted into laughter, and your brunch turned into an impromptu roast, something shifted. A cold thread of unease slid down Minho’s spine.

You were laughing, yes. Playing the part perfectly. But beneath the sparkle in your eyes was something else—something guarded. The way your smile didn’t quite reach all the way. The way your shoulders tensed every time someone mentioned the wedding, like the word itself had claws.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, not entirely. Maybe it was the text from your father that he had watched you ignore minutes ago. Maybe it was the transparent pants Hyunjin had worn years earlier making a reappearance in his head for some reason. Or maybe it was just his own overworked brain, spinning a conspiracy out of nerves and too much caffeine.

Whatever it was, Minho decided to shelve it for later. He had reports to review. Contracts to sign. A mountain of paperwork waiting for him and exactly zero emotional bandwidth to spare.

He’d figure it out. Eventually.

For now, he’d go home, finish his paperwork, and go to sleep.

Not knowing that what he’d wake up to would be far more fearsome than your father’s moustache.

Far, far worse.

Because somewhere, in a dimly lit security office, a grainy CCTV recording, dated four years ago, timestamped 2:14 a.m., was being uploaded by hands far too eager and far too vengeful.

A bed. A hotel logo in the corner. Two familiar silhouettes.

And the unmistakable beginning of the scandal that would burn everything to the ground.

...

taglist: @imfoive @jisunggy @hyunebunx @peskybirdysya @rockstarkkami @knowbites @mischievousleeknow @thepoeticpurplepotato @artemesiareads @valreifang @alisonyus @jisuperboard @8minho @robinnotgood24 @sarahfirecrystals-blog @lmnhx @maskedcrawford @bluesoobinnie @butterflydemons @pinkpunkdynamite @stickymusictale @lazymfblog @krssliu @halesandy @vcordova1460 @gnusihcom @cutecucumberkimberly @coldcraftmusiclight @superwholockiancrackhead @starfishblobblob @privatespotyk @thingsiwannaseelater @loveunt0ld @showingmafandomlove @2minpov @hantaechan @skyinkpop-blog @helpijustgothere @herejusttemporary @kpopenthusiast143 @miyaluvvsyou @shuuporanglinos @abbiestearsricochet @pixie-felix @loxgirl2004 @met30c1ty @feelikecinderella @uhhhhhokay @moon0fthenight @cashtonsbetch

[charcubed]

Okay I need everyone to lock in and hold hands with me about Doctor Odyssey right now

Avery being in charge and having the power this episode while both Max and Tristan deferred to her is foreshadowing her taking the lead in their relationship. She's going to make the decision that they all need to seriously consider doing a throuple properly because (as we already know) it’s what she wants most.

"But Char, we've seen this already, so why are they doing it again"

Well yes, you're right, but walk with me here

A) a factor at play is that this Crew Week episode was supposed to come before the Hot Tub Week episode, so initially we'd have had a smoother move from the peak throuple vibes of the hot tub into whatever comes next. It sounds like Crew Week had some reshoots to accommodate a shifted schedule (which also explains the abruptness of the Vivian stuff.)

B) The baby-cyst was a plot device / method to get them to all to grow as individuals and reevaluate what they want out of life. They've now had that development, so things are different!

They're kind of re-speedrunning the dynamics that led up to and followed the threesome. Last episode, Tristan said “this is dangerously close to how we got here in the first place." They all connected on an emotional threesome level rather than a physical. Next comes the guys professing their wants again…. except this time neither of them are saying or are going to say they can’t share Avery. Because they WILL "share" her, since – like last time – she’s going to say she wants to try doing a throuple properly. But won't be backing down from that desire or trying to decide who to choose, and now after everything there's a high chance the boys will be more receptive.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO...

Next episode is Double Booked, aka Trad Wives vs Sex Positives. I think (predictably) this will act as an exaggerated Max vs Tristan metaphor, especially considering Tristan was whoring around with Vivian again recently and we just saw Max wave goodbye to a white picket fence + traditional family life.

AND SO

The two of them will come head-to-head in a way that hopefully finally changes things and leads into their side of the triangle explicitly or heavily implicitly touching as we bring the throuple home!!!

Predicting, manifesting, etc. etc.

[lacelottie]

THE AMAZING SPIDER-NAT .ᐟ

summary: in which your interest in your.. odd classmate peaks your interest when you catch her standing up to your class bully, and again when you catch her at.. your job? you're not sure if she's stalking you or trying to impress you, but you do know that you want to get to know her.

content warnings: dual perspective, murder, blood, pain, grief, depression, depictions of weaponry and fighting, open wounds, mentions of bullying, fingering (both r! and f!receiving), cunnilingus (r!receiving), (mutual) masturbation, groping, dry humping, miscommunication, end of relationship, major character death, word count: 4.3k

author’s note: the amazing spider-man (andrew garfield's peter parker) has been one of my favorite films since i first watched it. i'm so excited to write this and combine two of some of my favorite pieces of media for you all <3 the first few chapters will be heavily influenced by the plot of the first film. this'll be a series so this is part one of many!

chapter one:

the dynamic of your family’s apartment in the morning was.. exhausting, but something you’d gotten used to as each of your brothers were born and grew up. phillip, howard, and even little simon many years later added to the chaos that was the stacy household and while you loved your family, you really couldn’t wait to move out for college. after grabbing a slice of toast from the kitchen and your bag off the coat rack, you said a quick goodbye to your family before heading out the door. you’re forever grateful that your apartment is walking distance to your school with the way your father complained about his drive down to the police station every morning, not having to deal with early morning new york traffic.

you strolled into the building not long after, attending and participating in your first few classes with ease as expected, especially because you were the top of your class. when the bell rang for the first lunch, you packed up your things and made your way outside, skipping lunch for today as you settled atop a lunch table. crossing your legs, you pulled out a copy of your latest read, gone girl by gillian flynn, and let the noise around you fade out as you immersed yourself in the pages.

natalie hung up the last club photo from the school pictures taken the week before, letting the glass to the showcase close before a basketball slammed itself against her temple. wincing softly, she turned to her right, watching flash thompson and his little posse of idiots laugh across the hallway. nat let out a soft grumble, walking past with a muttered “morning, asshole.” letting her skateboard drop to the floor, natalie mounted the piece of wood and made her way through the halls, weaving her way through the crowds of self-centered mean girls and quarterback bullies.

"scatorccio." natalie turned her head in response, immediately picking her board as she made eye contact with mr. ramirez. "yes, sir?" natalie asked with a soft, nervous laugh. "you wanna keep that board?" he asked, crossing his arms, "keep it off the ground." she nodded, flashing that awkwardly charming smile of hers as she lifted her skateboard above her head. “yeah, wheels up,” mr. ramirez said with a nod before walking back into his classroom, closing the door behind him. “yeah, yeah,” natalie muttered out before setting her skateboard back on the ground, riding through the halls before making her way outside.

as she turned the corner into the commons area, nat stopped, her breath catching softly as her gaze landed on you. she clutched her board a bit tighter as she watched you, brushing a strand of your hair back as your eyes stayed glued to the pages of your book. her crush on you was almost infuriating, on her end that is. she’d liked you for years but never had the courage to try and attempt a single conversation with you outside of being the occasional lab partner. but there you were, right there in front of her. natalie took a deep breath, taking a step forward before—

“eat it! eat it, c’mon!”

nat’s head whipped around at the sound, her gaze locking onto the crowd forming as she made her way over. pushing through the crowd, she made her way to the front, wincing softly as she witnessed flash at his usual bullshit, holding a poor underclassman upside down and rubbing his face into his food. flash's smile was wide and shit-eating as she looked around at the crowd and making eye contact with natalie. “hey, scatorccio! take a picture!” he yelled out to her, laughing as nat shook her head. “no, m’not gonna take a picture, flash. put him down,” nat said as she frowned. “don’t eat it, gordon.” flash’s gaze narrowed, clearly irritated by natalie’s resistance. “take the picture, scatorccio,” he said with a soft growl. “put him down, flash. seriously— put him down, eugene.” the crowd gasped softly at the use of flash’s real name, ‘ooh’s’ filling the sudden silence as flash approached her. “wait, wait—” natalie said in a soft panic before flash cut her off with a right hook, causing her to damn near spin and fall to the ground with a groan. his shoe dug into nat’s stomach, kicking her while she was down as she looked up at flash with a wincing and cheeky grin. “i’m still not ta—taking the picture.”

flash growled at her words, winding up to kick nat again before you pushed through the crowd, bag in hand as you approached. “flash, we still on for after school today? my house, 3:30?” you asked, tilting your head as you watched his face start to flush. “last time, i was.. very disappointed in you.” flash huffed, trying to push past you to get to natalie as you held a hand out, pushing him back as you tutted. “okay, no. how bout we go to class, yeah?” you insisted as you watched him finally back off, storming off the other way as you turned, looking down at natalie with a sympathetic look over your shoulder. she groaned a bit, your eyes meeting before rolling over on the ground as she slowly reached to grab her things. by the time that she finally sat up, more than half the crowd had cleared out, including you. natalie sighed, standing up with a soft wince as she painfully made her way to class.

nat slumped in her seat a row behind and a seat over from you, her head lolling forward to rest against her desk. you looked over at her as your ears caught her groan, biting your lip a bit and hesitating a bit before speaking. “i thought that was great, what you did,” you started softly as you watched her head perk up to look at you. “it was stupid.. but it was great. you should go to the nurse, you might have a concussion.” natalie simply stared at you, her mouth hanging slightly open as if she couldn’t believe you were speaking to her. which— she couldn’t. your eyes scanned her expression, letting out a soft laugh. “what’s your name?” her brows furrowed slightly at the question, sitting up a bit more. “you don’t know my name?” she asked in response. you shook your head, your lips formed into a soft smirk. “no, i— i know your name. i want to know if you know your name. y’know, cuz the concussion.”

nat blinked, letting out a soft breath before speaking, “natalie.” you tilted your head a bit, looking like you were waiting as she continued. “scatorccio. natalie scatorccio.” you smiled softly, nodding a little as she spoke. “okay. good. i’d still go to the nurse, though.” nat nodded a bit, slumping in her chair a bit once more as she kept staring. “..stacy, right? the captain’s kid?” she asked, her head mimicking your tilt. you nodded, stating your name, first and last, as she hummed. “all right,” she muttered out, the both of you sharing a small smile before facing forward, attempting to listen to your teacher’s words as class begun.

“hey,” natalie muttered out a greeting to her uncles as she closed the door behind her, letting her bag hang on the coat rack as she made her way through the house. “we’re in the kitchen,” uncle paul called out as she made her way through the walkway, leaning against it. “cooking dinner?” uncle ben nodded, reaching over to ruffle nat’s hair. “your uncle’s been trying to perfect yet another batch of his alfredo, yet he can’t decide on chicken or shrimp for protein.” paul rolled his eyes, looking at them both from over his shoulder, “do not tease me, ben scott. it’s a very difficult decision.” nat laughed a little, shrugging softly. “i’m sure it is, paul. just choose whatever and let me know when dinner’s ready, yeah? i’ll be in my room,” she said as she turned to exit before her uncle ben stopped her.

“hey, kid— wait,” he started, resting his hands on her shoulders as he let out a breath. “your uncle and i found something in the basement earlier and we think you’d like to have it,” ben said softly, giving nat a smile and her shoulders a soft squeeze. “uh, alright? what is it?” natalie asked, looking at him as he reached over to the dining table, picking up a leather briefcase with the letters ‘ES’ engraved on the edge and handing it to you. “it was your father’s. he.. he told us to keep it safe for him,” ben said softly as he watched her open it up, her brows furrowing. “he told you to keep an empty briefcase safe?” nat asked, looking to ben as he shrugged. “your father was a secretive man, nat. i’d say take a closer look,” ben said as he squeezed your shoulder once more before making his way back to the kitchen, leaving her alone in the dining room before nat headed up the stairs and to her bedroom.

closing the door behind her, natalie set the briefcase down on the floor and pulled out the few items inside: a calculator, her father's oscorp badge, a few stray pencils and a cut-out picture from a newspaper of her father and another man— a man she doesn't recognize. she stared at the photo, bringing her knees up to her chest as she tried to analyze it, only instead being reminded of her last moments with her father when she was young. how he lied to her to protect her, telling four-year-old natalie that he and her mother were going to be gone for only a little while, only to never see her parents again. nat sighed softly, letting her legs fall flat on the ground as she picked up the briefcase once more just to inspect it before hearing the faint sound of something move inside of it. nat's brows furrowed in confusion, tilting the briefcase left and right to make sure she wasn't hearing things. she opened the briefcase again, convinced she must have missed something but was simply met with the same empty briefcase as before. biting her lip a bit, natalie dug around in the briefcase, looking through all the pockets and little corners before pushing back on the inner fabric of the bag, revealing a hidden pocket.

natalie let out a soft, quiet gasp, eyeing the folders and materials hidden within the briefcase before getting up to lock her door, not wanting her uncles to disturb. she sat back down on the ground, slowly looking through and opening up the files as if they might disintegrate if she handled them too rough. her brows furrowed as she read over the contents carefully, her finger tracing the sheets of graph paper carefully as she read equations she had never seen before. “what.. is this?” nat whispered out as she read the equations circled at the bottom: ‘ØØ decay rate algorithm.’ natalie read over the equation a few times, trying to make sense of it before a pair of knuckles knocked on her door, calling out a quick “one sec!” as she scrambled to hide everything back into the briefcase. she made her way over to her desk, sitting down and pretending to use her computer before opening the door. “come in,” she said softly.

ben opened the door, hovering at the doorway as he peeped his head in. “you alright?” he asked gently, watching as you nodded. “yeah. why?” ben shook his head, muttering a soft “no reason” as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. he looked around her room a bit, picking up a rubix cube off her desk to distract himself as he spoke. “listen, kid. i— uhm. i don’t have much education, y’know that. i mean, i haven’t been able to help you with your homework since you were ten. you’re too bright. what i’m— trying to say is.. that i know that it’s been rough for you without your dad. and i know we don’t talk much about your parents.” natalie shrugged, shaking her head, “yeah. it’s alright—”

“no, it’s not all right, kid,” ben cut her off with a sigh. “i wish i could change it but i can’t.” he looked down a bit, playing with the rubix cube before letting out a heavy sigh, making eye contact with nat. “curt connors,” he started, watching her head perk up. “that’s the name of the guy in the picture with your dad.” nat’s eyes widened a bit, sitting up more as her uncle continued to speak. “they were close and they worked together for years, but after that night we never saw him again. he never even called, not once.. go figure.” nat nodded a bit in response, thankful for the information as she gave ben a sympathetic smile. he returned the smile with a soft nod as his gaze drifted behind her, eyeing the background on her computer. it was a picture of the science club at midtown but was specifically cropped to feature one person— you. ben’s smile widened a bit as he nodded in the direction of the screen, “she’s pretty.” nat’s head hung a bit in slight embarrassment, running a hand over her face as ben laughed, getting up to exit the room.

“wait— uhh, uncle ben,” nat started, watching her uncle turn around with a hum. “you’re a pretty great dad, y’know?” she asked with a smile. ben nodded a little, letting out a sound as if he didn’t know what to say before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. as soon as the door clicked, natalie turned to fully face her computer, opening up a new tab as she searched ‘enzo scatorccio and curt connors’, browsing the many results that popped up under her father and his partner’s names. she ended up finding a link to connors’ book, ‘a world without weakness’, and read both the synopsis on the biography and the doctor himself. as nat continued scrolling on the website, she noted the flashing yellow words of ‘intern enrollment now closed’, letting out a soft sigh. although that door was closed, that didn’t mean that nat couldn’t find a window. she thought for a minute, muttering out a quiet “i’ve got nothing to lose” as she wrote down the address for oscorp, setting it aside to grab on her way out the next morning.

nat crossed the street full of bustling people, readjusting her bag as her gaze flickered between the post-it with the address on it and oscorp, making sure she had the right place. she let out a soft, nervous breath as she pushed through the doors, making her way inside. the building was.. huge, obviously— glass ceilings and windows allowing the natural light to illuminate the building, watching staff blow through the building like busy bees. "excuse me?" a voice asked softly as nat's head turned, making eye contact with the woman at the front desk. "uh, yes?" she asked in response, walking up a bit hestitantly. "can i help you?" the woman asked, watching nat's cluelessness with a bit of amusement. "oh, uh.. i'm not sure. i'm here to see dr. connors?" nat asked with a soft, lopsided smile. "right. you'll find yourself to the left."

natalie blinked softly, a blank expression on her face as she stared at the receptionist. she tilted her head a bit in response, letting out a soft laugh as she stared back at nat. "you're an intern.. yes?" a flash of realization hit natalie as she nodded jerkily, "y—yeah. yeah." the woman looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "okay. you'll find your badge to the left." nat nodded a bit, mentally kicking herself for not planning this out better as she looked over the badge names. "do you not recognize your own name—" nat shook her head with a nervous laugh, picking up a random badge as she clipped it onto her shirt. "okay.. ms. ibarra," the receptionist said with skepticism. nat smiled a quick one with a nod, letting out a soft laugh before heading upstairs.

she continued visually exploring the building as the voice narrating throughout the building talked about the history and the many technological features about oscorp. discussion about the great minds of the future continued to play as she walked off the escalator, spotting the group of interns gathering near the rotunda as she kept her head down, keeping to the back of the crowd. "welcome to oscorp," a voice rang out softly as nat's head perked up, her eyes widening as her eyes found the owner of said voice— you. "oh, fuck," nat whispered to herself, throwing her hood on and letting her head hang as you introduced yourself to the crowd. "I'm a senior at midtown science and i'm also an intern to dr.connors, so i'll be with you for the duration of your visit today," you said with a soft smile and nod as you held a clipboard with the names of everyone in attendance to your chest. "where i go, you go. that's the basic rule. if you remember that, all will be fine. sound good?" majority of the crowd nodded and murmured in agreement as nat pressed her palm to her forehead, silently cursing herself for even coming up with this idea. "alright, then let's start."

you led the group through a few different rooms on the floor, letting them visually explore as you explained the significance throughout the tour. you turned a corner, pushing open the doors to one of many laboratories throughout the building as you led the group near the front. "come around this way, please," you stated as dr. connors walked up, a welcoming smile on his face as he approached the group. "good afternoon, miss stacy," he said softly, turning to face the group as you responded with a nod. "welcome. my name is dr. curtis connors. i'm not a cripple, i'm a scientist, and i'm the world's foremost authority on herpetology." nat's eyes flickered to dr.connors' apendage as he spoke, letting out a soft breath before her eyes flickered back to his face as he continued.

"but like the parkinson's patient who watches her body slowly start to betray her or the man with macular degeneration whose eyes grow dimmer each day, i long to fix myself," the doctor stated with determination as he spoke to the group. "i want to create a world without weakness. anyone care to venture a guess just how?" the group murmured quietly with their guesses, some saying "stem cells" while others suggested less radical solutions before a voice spoke quietly, "cross-species genetics." the group whispered amongst themselves, parting down the middle as natalie rose her head slightly with a slightly unnerving look on her face. your brows furrowing, eyes widening slightly as you looked down at the clipboard. her name's not on here, you spoke in your head before looking her direction again.

"uhm. a person gets parkinson's when the cells that produce dopamine in the brain start to disappear, but a zebra fish has the ability to regenerate cells on command. so, if you could hypothetically give this ability to the woman you're talking about, then that's— well, she's curing herself," natalie explained with a small shrug, her gaze flickering between both you and dr. connors. "hm," curtis hummed, taking a step closer, "and you are?" nat's mouth fell open a bit, not knowing whether to lie or not. "she's one of midtown science's best and brightest," you answered for her, catching connors' attention once more. "is that right?" he asked as he turned from the crowd. "mhm. she's second in her class," you said as you looked to natalie. "second?" she asked with a small smirk, tilting her head a bit, "you sure?" you nodded your head, your gaze narrowing slightly, "pretty sure." the doctor's gaze flickered between the both of you before his phone rang, pulling it out of his pocket and reading the contact name before facing the crowd once more. "i'm afraid duty calls, but miss stacy is more than capable to continue this tour on her own. please enjoy the facility."

you watched as dr. connors excused himself, turning on one of the holographic presentations as you ushered the group around it, your gaze catching natalie trying to slip away as you called out to her. "hi," you said as she stopped in her tracks, smiling that small, awkward smile as she turned to face you. she cleared her throat a bit, simply staring at you. "what're you doing.. mari?" you asked, referring to the name badge she stole to get in. "oh, right. yeah," nat muttered out as she looked down at it. "i work here." idiot, she mentally cursed herself as you let out a laughing scoff. "i don't work here. i was gonna say i work here, but it seems that you, in fact, do work here so you know that i don't work here." a ghost of a smirk traced your lips as you watched her ramble, getting a little red. "are you following me?" you asked softly, tilting your head. "what? no, i'm not— not following you, i'm not, swear. i had no idea you worked here." you hummed, not believing her as you stepped a bit closer. "then why would you be here?" nat bit her lip a bit, her breath catching slightly as you stepped forward. "i just snuck in because.. i— i love science."

your face held a look of disbelief on your face, letting out an unnerving laugh as you looked around, hoping no one was eavesdropping. "so you snuck in? i— i have to lead this tour group." natalie nodded with a small, guilty smile, "i know." you started to step back from her and towards the group, "i'll ask you more about this later. do not get me in trouble. and stay with the group" she followed your steps, walking closer as she muttered a soft "alright." you took a deep breath, approaching the front of the group again as you spoke. "alright, guys, we're gonna head to the bioreactor room now." nat took a few steps, staying with the group until they started to enter the room, backing away before letting out a soft grunt, bumping into someone. "sorry, man," she muttered out quietly, picking up the folder he dropped as her eyes fixated on its contents. ØØ. nat gasped softly, her grip on the folder tightening as the man pulled it from her grasp, eyeing her oddly before walking away. her gaze stayed fixed on the man as he walked off, quickly falling in step behind him as she followed him through the facility.

the man looked around, causing natalie to hid behind a wall as he unlocked the door to a part of the facility titled ‘ØØ BIOCABLE DEVELOPMENT UNIT.’ she watched as two men came out of the room, having a quiet discussion with the man she was following before they walked off. she peeped around the corner, making sure the coast was clear before walking up to the door, mimicking the code from before and gaining access inside. nat slipped inside, keeping to herself and looking around the white room as machinery worked and operated on its own. a door down the hall caught her attention, the room inside illuminated by a dark blue light and a machine rotating on its own. natalie slipped inside, her breath catching softly as she took a closer look at the machinery. webs and spiders rotating around like straw on a spinning wheel, all rotating around her as her fingers gently pulled on one of the webs, causing the machinery to stop. nat paused, cursing under her breath as the webs begun to shrink, dropping spiders from their webs and right on top of her. “you’ve got to be— fucking kidding me,” she whispered out as tens of spiders landed on her, quickly wiping them off and jerking herself around in an attempt to rid herself of the arachnids.

nat quickly but carefully made her way out of the room, walking out into the main hallway of the floor as your eyes caught her, letting out a scoff as you walked away from the group to meet her. as she turned the corner, natalie had a look of ‘oh, fuck’ on her face, wincing softly as your eyebrows raised at her. she let out a soft, nervous chuckle, about to explain before you held your hand out, “give me the badge.” nat sighed softly, muttering a soft “aw” as she unclipped the badge from her sweater, handing it to you with an apologetic look on her face. “sorry,” natalie said softly as she watched you walk off. in the same moment, a stray spider from the biocable unit crawled across her neck, injecting its fangs into her skin as she let out a soft yelp of pain. you looked back at her, your expression clearly agitated as your ears caught the sound she made, your brows furrowing. the look on both of your faces said it all—

what the fuck was that?

[alexisinnocent]

I don't really like the debate about Duke Thomas on if he's the "normal one" or "just as crazy" as his siblings because it's based on a false dichotomy that limits Duke's characterization in a fandom that already doesn't really know where to place him. The long story short is that Duke is like his siblings which is to say he does whatever based off of his sense of morality and he often has no scale of normal human behavior.

I'm pretty sure that the idea of him as the normal one comes from Wayne Family Adventures. (Though if this predates it in fandom please let me know). WFA chooses to play into his newness to give insights into the dynamics of Wayne manor and the larger batfamily.

I don't necessarily think this is a bad choice. I'm pretty giving to adaptations because it's hard to summarize 80+ years of comics into an easily digestible form. However, it was clearly written by a team who didn't have much insight on what to do with Duke outside of that, so his newness and uncertainty become his characterization and by extension him being the "regular one" in the family. The fandom that hasn't engaged with Duke outside of WFA run with that.

Which leads to jokes, skits, and fics where Duke is not only misrepresented but underrepresented. In a family filled with weird people with distinct dynamics what's the new, normal guy to do but sometimes stand in a corner and throw in a responsible one liner.

As a response people get frustrated with Duke's lack of inclusion in fics, skits, and jokes, so they bring up all the things that prove he's just as wild as his siblings (such as getting shot and thinking it's cool or jumping out of a cop car though my personal favorite is when he breaks into the iceberg lounge). However, without context this still isn't Duke. He doesn't just do insane things for the response he has a very clear characterization.

Duke is a child genius who has a huge problem with authority, primarily motivated by helping his community (though in the time between his parents disappearance and goign to live with Bruce he is a bit of an adrenaline junkie as a coping mechanism).

So, if we revisit some of the actions listed above:

Duke gets shot and thinks it's cool: This is Duke in his peak adrenaline junkie time, when he's riding the high of We Are Robin and all the potential negative consequences of superherodom haven't settled in yet. (This is also the period of time when he's getting into fights and is a bit of a playboy).

Duke jumps out of a cop car: This is Duke with his problem of authority (particularly cops) especially when they are trying to stop him from doing what he thinks is right. In this case, stopping him from We Are Robin duties. (This is also why he sneaks out of his foster homes looking for his parents).

Breaking into the iceberg lounge: This is peak Duke. It's him using his genius intellect to crack open a case and because he refuses to ignore it when he can help chasing the lead himself. It's also a little bit his adrenaline junkie sense as he's absolutely more reckless when there's a lot of external pressures.

TLDR: Duke is not the normal one. He's also not just a series of his wildest actions. He's a 16 year old, who wants to help the world and his own way of going about that, wether that's within or outside of our conception of normal behavior.

[lottevence]

Tastes Like Trouble

༉‧₊˚.⋆✴︎˚｡⋆. ݁₊ . ݁

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: just being back from your trip to europe for a few months, the last thing you expected was to find your bestfriend being friends with 'king steve' AND for him to claim that he left highschool days behind.

trope: enemies to lovers, slowburn

Chapter One: You Again?

Coming back to Hawkins felt like stepping into a memory you didn’t exactly miss.

Same cracked sidewalks. Same rusty signs. Same suffocating silence in the air that clung to your clothes like dust. You weren’t even back for a full day before Robin dragged you into the fluorescent-lit pit of hell known as Family Video.

“You’re gonna help me pick out a movie,” she declared, already yanking you past the door. “Because if I have to alphabetize one more box set, I will snap and start filing things under ‘existential dread.’”

You snorted. “Sounds organized.”

She smirked, about to retort—when a bell jingled from the back room.

You turned. And immediately regretted it.

Steve Harrington stood there in his full 80s glory—hair too perfect, polo shirt smugly tucked in, like the universe hadn’t let him know it was 1986 and his reign ended years ago. His expression shifted the second he saw you. A flicker of recognition. Then something harder to place.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “King Steve. Didn’t realize royalty worked retail.”

He blinked, then laughed. “Wow. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“I could bring it back,” you offered, saccharine-sweet. “Retro’s in, right?”

Robin’s eyes bounced between you two like a tennis match. “Oh no,” she mumbled. “No, no, no. Not this dynamic. Not again.”

Steve leaned on the counter, completely unfazed. “So… you’re the one who ran off to Europe with a backpack and a bad attitude.”

“And you’re the one who peaked in high school,” you shot back without missing a beat like it was a some kind of slur.

He looked genuinely amused now, which only made it worse. “You’ve been talking about me, Buckley?”

Robin groaned. “You know me, i talk about everything! I may have said some stuff when we had just started working together.”

Steve pressed a hand to his chest like he was wounded. “I’m reformed. I’m, like, humble now. Nice. Friendly.”

You crossed your arms. “Sure. And I’m Miss Indiana.”

“Missed you too,” he said with a wink that made your stomach flip—out of annoyance, you told yourself.

Robin glanced at the ceiling like she was praying for strength. “This is going to be exhausting, isn’t it?”

“Deeply,” you muttered, as Steve gave you a look that said game on.

Chapter Two: You’re Not As Funny As You Think

The night started simple enough—Eddie’s place, too much pizza, a stack of movies no one actually planned on watching, and the vague promise of “chill vibes.” You weren’t sure why you agreed to come. Maybe it was the way Robin asked. Maybe it was the boredom. Or maybe it was some strange pull you refused to name.

You walked in and saw Steve Harrington immediately—manspreading on the couch like he owned it, a Coke in one hand, a cocky grin already forming the second his eyes met yours.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, brushing past him to sit on the opposite armchair.

“Aw,” Steve said. “You missed me.”

“Like I miss mono,” you shot back, grabbing a paper plate.

Robin plopped beside you, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Play nice,” she warned, pointing at you both like a tired kindergarten teacher. “If I have to referee, I’m charging extra.”

Eddie came in next, grinning widely “God, the tension in here could set off a smoke alarm.”

“It’s not tension,” you said flatly.

“It’s just her charm,” Steve added, taking a sip. “Sharp as a butter knife.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “I’ve met bricks with more personality than you.”

Robin hid a laugh behind her drink. Eddie didn’t bother hiding his. “I give it a month,” he muttered.

“A month for what?” you asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Robin said quickly, elbowing him.

“Anyway,” Eddie said, louder, “we’re playing cards or we’re watching something?”

“Cards,” you and Steve said at the same time.

You turned to glare. “Don’t copy me.”

“Right, because everything you say is revolutionary,” he deadpanned.

Robin dealt the cards, mumbling, “Oh my god, just kiss or kill each other already.”

You locked eyes with Steve, and something flickered—annoyance, definitely. But also something… electric. Brief. Dangerous.

You looked away first.

He smirked like he knew it.

You were definitely not staying for the movie.

Chapter Three: Smoke Signals

As said before you didn’t plan on staying.

But then Robin had that look—eyebrows up, pout halfway formed, like she was going to guilt-trip you for a decade if you left now. So you stayed. You grumbled your way through helping grab bowls of popcorn and a questionable-looking bag of Sour Patch Kids from Eddie’s kitchen. You pretended not to hear Steve’s comments as you passed him the soda.

By the time the movie was picked—something ridiculous and loud—you needed air more than anything else.

You stepped out onto the trailer’s rickety porch, lit the cigarette you’d kept stashed in your jacket, and took a long drag. The first hit burned a little in your chest. The second less so. The third felt almost like quiet.

The stars above Hawkins didn’t shine as much as they used to. Or maybe you just stopped looking for them.

The screen door creaked behind you.

You didn’t turn around. “I’m not putting it out.”

A pause. “Wasn’t gonna ask you to.”

His voice was softer out here. Less performative. Almost… real.

Steve stepped up beside you, hands in his pockets, leaning against the railing like this was something you two had done before.

You didn’t offer him the cigarette, but he didn’t seem to expect it.

“You always smoke when you’re uncomfortable?” he asked after a beat.

You took another drag. “Only when I’m around people who think they know me.”

He let that sit in the air between you for a moment, the silence settling into something heavier than the smoke curling around your fingers.

“Okay,” he said finally. “That was kind of a good line.”

You glanced at him. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smiled, and for once, it wasn’t smug. It was tired. A little honest.

“I’m not like I was in high school,” he said suddenly.

You flicked ash off the edge of the porch. “You mean you’re not a self-absorbed jackass anymore?”

Steve gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. That.”

Another pause.

You looked at him again—closer this time. Not the hair, not the polo shirt, not the dumb smirk. But the quiet eyes behind all of it. Still brown. Still guarded. Maybe a little more cracked.

“People don’t change that much,” you muttered.

“Sometimes they do,” he said, not quite looking at you. “Sometimes they have to.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t.

Instead, you offered him the cigarette.

He took it with two fingers, slow, careful, like you were handing him something sacred.

And when his lips brushed the filter where yours had just been, something in your chest moved.

You ignored it.

You told yourself it was nothing.

Chapter Four: Background Noise

You didn’t speak on the way back in.

He handed you the cigarette stub before opening the screen door, and you dropped it into an old soda can perched on the porch rail. Neither of you mentioned what happened outside. Not the silence, not the glance, not the warmth still buzzing on your fingertips.

“There’s no way this guy survives the opening scene,” he declared, pointing at the screen. “He’s wearing a red shirt and confidence. That’s death in movie language.”

“You missed your calling,” Robin mumbled. “Should’ve been a prophet.”

You dropped onto the floor beside her, stealing a handful of popcorn. Steve sat across from you on the rug, closer than you’d like but not quite close enough to call it out. His shoulder bumped Eddie’s. His knee almost brushed yours. Almost.

Robin leaned down to whisper, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, eyes on the screen.

She watched you a second longer than necessary. Then nodded.

Ten minutes in, Eddie was shouting at the characters. Fifteen minutes in, Robin was giggling at her own commentary. Twenty minutes in, Steve passed you the candy without a word, and your fingers brushed again.

You didn’t flinch. But your breath hitched.

The movie continued—something about ghosts, bad decisions, and worse acting. But it all felt like background noise. You were aware of everything else: the scratch of the rug under your hand, the sound of Steve shifting his weight, the quiet laughs he didn’t let out too loud.

He was different when no one was looking. Or maybe you just never looked closely enough before.

But when the scene jumped, loud and sudden, and you instinctively reached for Robin’s arm and accidentally grabbed Steve’s instead, you didn’t let go right away.

Neither did he.

And when you finally did, he didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you, like he saw something he wasn’t expecting.

You looked away first again.

But you were starting to wonder if that was becoming a habit.

Chapter Five: Don’t Start

Robin was already halfway through her orange juice when you showed up at the coffee shop.

You slid into the booth across from her, sunglasses still on, even though it wasn’t that bright inside.

“Okay,” she said, not even greeting you. “So. Are we gonna talk about it?”

You didn’t take off the sunglasses.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, picking up a menu even though you already knew you were getting pancakes.

Robin leaned in, resting her chin in her hand. “You sat next to him.”

“There was limited floor space.”

“You didn’t roll your eyes once.”

You squinted at her over the menu. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I live for drama,” she replied. “Also? You touched his arm. Voluntarily.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “It was an accident.”

“Mhm. And the part where you didn’t immediately recoil in disgust?”

“Muscle paralysis. Tragic, really.”

Robin laughed, loud and delighted. “I knew it. You like him.”

You froze with your hand halfway to your water glass. “I do not.”

“You don’t hate him the way you used to.”

“I’m capable of being civil. Sometimes. When I’m in a generous mood.”

Robin grinned like she was watching her favorite show. “So generous these days."

“I still think he’s full of himself,” you said finally.

Robin nodded. “Sure. But…?”

You picked at the corner of the napkin. “But he’s less of a jerk now. Maybe.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” you said quickly.

Robin smiled behind her straw. “Whatever you say.”

You kicked her under the table. She kicked you back, grinning the whole time.

Chapter Six: Table for One

The morning shift wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours.

You liked the rhythm—coffee pots refilled like clockwork, the smell of pancakes and burnt toast clinging to your skin, and the low hum of 80s ballads playing from the ancient jukebox in the corner. It was quiet, mostly. Familiar.

And then he walked in.

You didn’t see him right away. You were busy wiping down the counter, a pencil tucked behind your ear and your focus glued to the coffee machine hissing in the background. But he saw you the second he stepped through the door.

Steve Harrington froze.

You were wearing a black-and-white waitress uniform, the retro kind with the cinched waist and short sleeves, a silver name tag glinting on your chest. The outfit shouldn’t have worked. It should’ve been plain, forgettable.

But on you?

It looked like something out of a damn movie.

Your golden hair fell in loose, effortless waves down your back—slightly frizzy from the summer air, but in a way that looked almost…deliberate. You hadn’t noticed a thing. You were moving like this was just another Tuesday.

Steve swallowed hard, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, and slid into a booth by the window.

That’s when you finally noticed him.

Your shoulders stiffened for half a second, then relaxed into something more practiced—cool, casual, untouchable.

“Great,” you said as you approached, pulling out your order pad. “Didn’t realize Family Video gave out lunch breaks.”

Steve looked up at you with a crooked grin, but his eyes didn’t match it. They were softer. Focused.

“Didn’t realize you were working on giving me a heart-attack.” He mumbled.

You blinked. “…Excuse me?”

He shrugged, all fake nonchalance. “Nothing. Just—this look?” He motioned vaguely toward your uniform. “Works. Unexpected. But yeah. Works.”

You stared at him, suspicious. “You come here to bother me, Harrington?”

He leaned back in the booth, eyes still on you like he couldn’t help it. “I came for coffee. The emotional damage is a bonus.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks felt warmer than they should’ve. “One black coffee. Got it. Anything else? Sarcasm? Unwanted flirting?”

He smirked. “Surprise me.”

You scribbled something on the pad—Harrington: insufferable—and hot coffee. Then turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Behind you, Steve exhaled into his hands and muttered under his breath.

“Yeah. Definitely in trouble.”

Chapter Seven: Third Party Commentary

You dropped the mug of black coffee in front of him with a practiced thud.

“No cream, no sugar. Just like your personality.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to flirting.”

You gave him a look. “If I was flirting, you’d know. You’d be terrified.”

“Oh, I’m already terrified,” he said, eyes following you as you wiped your hands on your apron. “In a… weirdly enjoyable way.”

You snorted. “That says more about you than it does about me.”

The bell above the diner door jingled, and you turned—instinctively straightening, only to see Robin walking in with her usual whirlwind energy, combat boots scuffing the tiles.

Her eyes landed on Steve first. Then on you.

Then she grinned. That devilish, all-knowing Robin Buckley grin that made your stomach drop.

“Well, well, well,” she said, sliding into the booth beside Steve without asking. “What do we have here? Harrington, are you lurking again?”

“I’m not lurking,” Steve said, flustered. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

Robin grabbed his coffee, took a sip, and made a face. “Supporting their sewer system, maybe.”

You crossed your arms and glared at her. “Don’t you have work?”

“I’m on my break. And clearly so is he—” she looked between the two of you, squinting. “Wait. Hold on. Did I just walk in on a moment?”

“There was no moment,” you said quickly, a little too quickly.

Steve smirked. “There might’ve been a moment.”

You kicked the edge of his booth without thinking. “There wasn’t.”

Robin gasped theatrically. “Did you just flirt-kick him?”

You turned to walk away, cheeks burning. “You two are unbearable.”

Robin shouted after you, “That’s not a denial!”

From the kitchen, someone called your name, probably to grab another table’s order. You disappeared behind the swinging doors, jaw clenched, heart pacing like it hadn’t gotten the memo that this was supposed to be casual.

Back at the booth, Robin turned to Steve, eyebrows raised.

“So. How long you been staring at her like that?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He just looked down at his coffee, then back at the door you’d vanished behind.

“Since before the coffee.”

Robin sat back, whistling low. “Yup. You’re screwed.”

Chapter Eight: Just My Luck

You didn’t even bother changing out of your uniform.

The heat was clinging to your skin, the collar of your dress stuck slightly to the back of your neck, and your feet ached from ten hours of non-stop motion—but you needed a movie. Something stupid. Something loud and distracting. And maybe a little Robin time to complain about customers who snapped their fingers for refills.

Family Video’s air conditioning hit you the second you walked in—cool, a little too sterile, and eerily quiet.

“Robin?” you called, weaving through the aisles.

No answer.

You passed the horror section, the romance section, paused briefly at Ferris Bueller’s Day Off—then heard someone clear their throat behind you.

“I think she left, actually.”

You turned.

Of course.

Steve stood behind the counter, slouching a little, wearing his Family Videos vest and a crooked grin that had way too much confidence for someone who worked next to a stack of VCR cleaner kits.

“She what?”

“Date night,” he said, tapping a pen against the counter. “Vicky picked her up like ten minutes ago. I’m all you’ve got.”

You blinked. “Great.”

He tilted his head. “You sound thrilled.”

You walked over to the counter, resting your elbows against it. “I was promised Robin. Not Harrington.”

“Ah, my government name. Cold.”

“I’m off the clock,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t expect charm.”

“I never do,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

You started scanning the wall behind him. “Alright, King of VHS. Recommend me something dumb. No rom-coms. No action. No plot twists that make me think about life.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “You’re a blast, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

He disappeared into the aisles without another word. You could hear the soft scuff of his sneakers as he moved through the racks, flipping through boxes.

You took a breath.

Why did it feel so quiet when it was just the two of you?

Steve returned with a tape in hand. “Beetlejuice.”

You raised a brow. “That’s your idea of dumb?”

He shrugged. “It’s weird and chaotic. Felt like it matched your energy.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your mouth twitched despite yourself. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Almost,” he echoed, handing you the case.

Your fingers brushed again, and this time, neither of you pulled away immediately.

The moment was stupid. Fleeting. Charged like static under fluorescent lights.

You grabbed the tape and cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You started walking away, then paused near the door. “Hey,” you said without turning around, “You’re not as annoying as I thought.”

Steve leaned against the counter, voice casual but eyes sharper than ever. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

You pushed open the door with your hip and stepped into the late-summer air.

He didn’t need to see you smiling.

Chapter Nine: Nothing Fancy

The movie didn’t hit quite right.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe it was the way Steve’s voice echoed in your head when you laughed at the weirdest parts. You’d rolled your eyes, turned the volume up, and told yourself you were being insane.

And then you couldn’t sit still.

So you pulled on a hoodie—one of those oversized ones that swallowed you up—and wandered out into the warm, hazy night. The gas station a few blocks away was still open. The flickering “Open 24 Hours” sign buzzed as you stepped through the door.

You walked past the cooler section with no real plan—just loitering with intent.

“Didn’t peg you as a midnight snacks kind of girl.”

Your heart jumped in your chest before you turned and saw him.

Steve. In a worn flannel. A little rumpled, a little tired, standing by the candy aisle holding a bag of Red Vines like it owed him money.

You stared. “Didn’t peg you as someone who eats candy that tastes like wax.”

He smirked. “It’s nostalgic.”

“For what? Bad decisions?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Touché.”

You wandered over, grabbing a bag of chips without really looking. “What are you doing out?”

He shrugged, leaning his weight into the shelves. “Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about that stupid movie.”

Your stomach flipped a little.

“Oh,” you said, too casually. “Did you end up watching it?”

He looked at you. Really looked. Then nodded. “Yeah. Thought about texting you a running commentary.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?”

Steve looked down at the bag in his hands. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Something in your chest tugged.

You shifted your weight, suddenly very aware of the distance between you, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights, and how this place somehow felt more honest than anywhere else in Hawkins.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you said softly, then immediately regretted saying it.

He glanced up again. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip to hide the small smile creeping in. “Yeah.”

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense.

It just was.

Finally, Steve cleared his throat. “You wanna split these with me? Or are you strictly a chips-for-one kind of girl?”

You looked at the Red Vines, then at him.

“Only if we sit on the curb like delinquents.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Ten: Red Vines and Real Talk

The curb was still warm from the day’s sun.

You sat with your legs crossed, hoodie pulled over your knees, the half-crushed bag of Red Vines between you. Steve passed you one without asking, and you took it, even though you still thought they tasted like flavored rubber.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

The gas station light buzzed above, casting a soft glow over the parking lot. A single moth fluttered against it, desperate and aimless. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked once and then went quiet again.

“You were kind of scary in high school,” Steve said eventually, like it had just occurred to him.

You looked over at him, brow raised. “I was scary?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling apart a Red Vine and chewing slowly. “You walked around like you knew everything and didn’t care what anyone thought. People either wanted to be you or disappear when you looked at them.”

You snorted. “That’s rich. Coming from King Steve. You literally had people part the halls for you.”

“Yeah, and it sucked.”

His voice wasn’t bitter. Just… matter-of-fact.

You turned slightly toward him. “You didn’t seem to mind it back then.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know any better. I thought being liked meant I was doing something right.”

You were quiet for a beat. “And now?”

Steve didn’t look at you when he answered. “Now I’d rather be known.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. You looked down at the candy in your hand and twisted it around your fingers.

“No offense,” you said, voice quieter, “but I didn’t think there was much going on under the surface back then.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s fair.”

You glanced at him again. His jaw was softer in this light. Less defined. Less guarded.

“I hated you for a while,” you admitted.

“I know,” he said. “You weren’t subtle.”

You both laughed, but yours died a little too quickly.

“I think I hated what you represented more,” you added, voice barely above a whisper. “Like… everything I didn’t fit into. Everything I didn’t want to be, but also kind of wished I could have—just to make things easier.”

Steve turned toward you fully then, elbow on his knee, brow furrowed like he was seeing you for the first time. Not just looking—seeing.

“You were never easy to ignore,” he said.

You swallowed hard.

“Still aren’t.”

The moment stretched between you like a tightrope—one breath, one lean, one word away from something that felt like a cliff.

You reached for another Red Vine just to do something with your hands.

He smiled a little. “Still think they taste like wax?”

“They’re awful,” you said, biting into one anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, sitting barefoot on a curb at midnight with the boy you used to hate—you didn’t feel so out of place.

Chapter Eleven: Tables Turned

Steve was mid-alphabetizing the horror section when the bell over the Family Video door jingled.

He didn’t look up at first. “Be right with you,” he called over his shoulder, stacking VHS boxes like it was his life’s calling.

“I’d hope so,” came your voice—cool, lazy, unmistakably smug.

His head snapped up so fast he almost dropped Poltergeist.

You stood just inside the doorway, in cutoff shorts and a faded band tee that clung to you in all the right places. Your hair was down again—wild and golden and a little wind-tossed, like you hadn’t meant to look good but somehow still managed to.

He blinked. Twice.

You smirked.

“You gonna help me find a movie, Harrington?” you asked, sauntering toward the counter.

Steve cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. “Uh—yeah. Sure. What kind of movie?”

You leaned against the counter, arms folded, grin sharp. “I don’t know. Something fun. Something I can watch with a guy if I ever accidentally have one over.”

He choked slightly. “A—guy?”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Unless you’re volunteering.”

His ears went red instantly. Not pink. Not flushed. Red.

“I—I mean, depends on the guy,” he stammered, then winced. “Not—not that I’m saying I’m the guy. Or—well, like, I am a guy—but not—God.”

You let out a laugh, sharp and melodic.

“Relax,” you teased, plucking a copy of The Lost Boys from the shelf without breaking eye contact. “I’m just messing with you.”

Steve stared at you like you’d just punched him in the gut and smiled while doing it.

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice just enough to make it dangerous. “You always get this nervous when a girl flirts with you, or am I just special?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You’re—uh. Definitely something.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Smooth.”

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breathy laugh. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”

You grinned, straightening. “That’s the plan.”

And with that, you placed the movie on the counter and walked away—cool, composed, lethal.

Steve stood frozen, watching you go, a single thought spinning on repeat in his head:

He was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Chapter Twelve: Busted

Steve was still behind the counter, staring at the spot where you’d stood just moments ago, when Robin walked in.

She clocked his dazed expression immediately. The far-off look in his eyes. The slight pink still lingering in his ears.

She didn’t even say hello. Just walked up, leaned both arms on the counter, and stared him down.

“Okay,” she said. “What the hell happened?”

Steve blinked at her, slow, like he was coming out of anesthesia. “She was here.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “She?”

“She,” he repeated, dragging a hand down his face. “She came in. She flirted.”

Robin leaned in closer. “Like, casual flirted? Or murderous sexy villain flirted?”

Steve made a strangled noise. “Weaponized. It was weaponized.”

Robin burst out laughing. “No way. She flustered you?”

“Robin, I forgot how to speak words. I think I might’ve implied I’m not a guy.”

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, slapping the counter. “She reverse-Harrington’d you.”

Steve dropped his head into his arms. “I’m never going to recover.”

Robin grinned so wide it looked painful. “I told you she was dangerous.”

“You didn’t tell me she was gonna walk in here looking like a rockstar and end my bloodline with a smirk.”

Robin reached over and patted the top of his head like a tired puppy. “Poor baby. Did the scary pretty girl make your brain go fzzzt?”

He groaned again, face still buried. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No. I really don’t.”

Robin leaned back, looking way too pleased with herself. “You know what this means, right?”

Steve glanced up warily. “What?”

“It means,” she said, already pulling her walkie out of her bag, “that I have to tell her everything.”

“Robin—”

But it was too late. She was already pressing the button.

“Breaker, breaker. This is Wingwoman One to Certified Flirt Machine, do you copy?”

Steve lunged for the walkie. “Do not tell her I called her a flirt machine!”

“Oops,” Robin said. “Too late.”

Chapter Thirteen: Your Move, Harrington

Robin’s thumb was still pressed on the walkie button when a familiar crackle of static burst through, followed by your voice—calm, slightly amused, and dangerously smooth.

“This is Flirt Machine reporting in. I repeat, Flirt Machine has entered the frequency.”

Steve groaned, slumping behind the counter like he could physically escape the embarrassment.

Robin’s grin stretched even wider. “We have eyes on one Very Flustered Steve. He’s hiding under the register.”

“Adorable. Is he breathing okay?”

Robin peeked over the counter dramatically. “Breathing’s erratic. Eyewitness confirms intense blushing.”

You didn’t respond for a second. Just a beat of silence on the line—and then:

“Tell him if he wants to save what’s left of his dignity, he can bring snacks and come watch The Lost Boys with me.”

Steve blinked. Sat up.

Robin stared at the walkie. “Wait. Was that a—did you just—invite him?”

“Well, someone has to explain the vampire lore to me, and Harrington seems like the type who overanalyzes movies he pretends not to care about.”

Steve stood there, mouth open, every thought short-circuiting in real time.

Robin slowly turned toward him, raising her eyebrows with a grin that screamed do it, you idiot.

Steve cleared his throat. “I—uh. Yeah. Sure. I can do that.”

Robin grabbed the walkie again.

“Flirt Machine, Target Steve has accepted the mission. ETA: however long it takes him to fix his hair and pick a bag of chips he won’t share.”

“Noted. Tell him to knock like a normal person. And if he shows up with licorice, the door stays shut.”

Robin cackled. “Copy that. See you soon, Agent Chaos.”

You clicked off.

Steve stared at her, still half-in-disbelief. “She just… invited me.”

Robin clapped him on the back. “Oh, Stevie. She didn’t just invite you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then what did she do?”

Robin smirked.

“She dared you.”

Chapter Fourteen: Late Night, Low Lights

Steve stood outside your door with a bag of chips, two sodas, and a heart rate that probably needed medical attention.

He had changed shirts twice. Briefly considered bringing two movie options just in case. It was just a movie. Just a hangout.

Just you.

He knocked.

You opened the door a few seconds later, backlit by the soft glow of string lights inside.

Your band tee was gone—replaced with a loose tank top and soft flannel pajama pants. Your hair was still slightly messy, like you’d just run your hands through it instead of bothering with a mirror. Barefoot. Comfortable.

Dangerous.

“You brought chips,” you said, eyeing the bag.

“Cheddar,” he said quickly. “Not wax candy. I learn.”

You smirked and stepped aside to let him in. “So proud.”

The living room was cozy, not too neat—blankets tossed over the couch, the movie already paused at the title screen. He recognized the faint smell of popcorn and something floral—maybe your shampoo.

He sat on the couch while you headed to the kitchen.

“You want a glass for the soda or are you a straight-from-the-bottle kind of guy?” you called.

“Straight from the bottle,” he said. “No time for formalities when vampires are involved.”

You returned with two drinks, handing him one as you plopped down beside him—closer than you had to be.

“So,” you said, pulling the blanket over your legs. “You going to tell me why you were looking at me like I kicked your puppy earlier today?”

Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mmhmm.”

He sighed. “You just… caught me off guard. Usually I’m the one making other people flustered.”

“Poor baby,” you teased. “Did I ruin your streak?”

“I think you ended it,” he muttered. “Permanently.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile.

“I’ll try to go easy on you,” you said softly, eyes flicking to the screen.

The movie started. You didn’t move away. Neither did he.

Halfway through, your arm brushed his. Then your knee. And by the time a vampire exploded in dramatic 80s fashion, your head was leaning slightly against his shoulder.

Neither of you acknowledged it. But his hand brushed your knee a little too intentionally. And your heart beat a little too loud for just a movie night.

Chapter Fifteen: Almost

The credits rolled, but neither of you moved.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering TV screen now blank except for the softly glowing pause icon.

Your head was still resting lightly on Steve’s shoulder, and his breath was steady but shallow, as if he was trying not to betray how much this moment meant.

You could feel his body shift just slightly, the heat from his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Your heart hammered loud enough you were sure he could hear it.

Steve’s hand hovered just above your knee, fingers twitching, caught between moving closer and retreating.

He swallowed, lips parting slightly as if to say something, then closing again.

Your breath caught.

His gaze flicked up to meet yours — dark, searching, hesitant.

You held his eyes, daring him to bridge the space.

The air between you thickened, charged with everything unspoken.

Steve’s hand finally moved — just an inch, a whisper closer.

Your breath hitched.

Then, just as his fingers grazed your skin, a sharp noise from the kitchen—an old clock chiming the hour—broke the spell.

You both jumped apart, breaking eye contact, suddenly aware of how close you’d been.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed deeper now.

“I—uh—guess we should, uh, maybe watch the rest of the movie series later?”

You laughed softly, the tension melting just a bit.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The moment was gone, but the promise lingered like a spark, waiting to catch fire.

Chapter Sixteen: Robin’s Recon

Steve was nursing a coffee behind the Family Video counter, trying to act like he wasn’t still thinking about last night.

Robin strolled in, all casual confidence, her eyes immediately locking on him with that mischievous sparkle.

“So,” she said, leaning over the counter with a sly grin, “how’d your movie night with Ms. Can’t-Stop-Flirting go?”

Steve choked on his sip, nearly spitting coffee everywhere.

“What? Nothing! It was—uh—fine. Totally normal. Just two friends watching a movie. Nothing weird.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Steve,” she said, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in yesterday. Like you just got hit by a truck you didn’t see coming.”

Steve’s cheeks flamed redder than ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Robin chuckled. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England.”

She tapped her finger against her lips, pretending to think.

“Honestly, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Steve groaned.

Robin smiled wider.

“But hey, good luck. You’re going to need it.”

She winked and walked off, leaving Steve to stew in the best kind of trouble he’d ever gotten himself into.

Chapter Seventeen: Backyard Glow

The sun was just dipping below the trees, casting long golden shadows over Steve’s backyard. The pool shimmered quietly, still and inviting, while the camping chairs were scattered around in a loose circle, some with empty beer cans perched on their armrests.

You settled into your chair, the warmth of the day still clinging to your skin as you cracked open a cold one. Steve was leaning back in his seat, casual and relaxed, tossing a bottle lightly between his hands. Robin had her legs stretched out, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she sipped her drink.

Eddie was the last to arrive, carrying a small paper bag with a knowing smile.

“Got what we need,” he announced, pulling out a neatly rolled joint and a lighter. “This’ll take the edge off.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Finally, the real entertainment.”

Steve chuckled. “You know, I’m all for chill nights, but you always manage to kick it up a notch, Eddie.”

You watched as Eddie lit the joint, the smell of pine and something sweet curling into the warm evening air. One by one, the group passed it around, slow inhales and gentle exhales blending with the laughter that bubbled up easily.

Robin leaned over to you. “You good?”

You nodded, feeling the buzz unfurling in your chest like a soft tide. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Steve caught your eye from across the circle and gave a small, almost shy smile. You returned it, and for a moment, the noise faded into background hum.

Eddie was talking animatedly about a crazy movie plot he’d just seen, his hands painting pictures in the air.

“Man, that ending was wild. Like, who writes this stuff?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You do realize it’s a horror flick, right? They kinda have to go wild.”

“Exactly!” Eddie grinned. “Makes it fun.”

The joint made its way back to Eddie, who took a slow drag and passed it along again. You leaned back, letting the quiet warmth settle in.

Steve’s voice broke through softly. “Hey, you wanna swim later?”

You blinked, surprised, but smiled. “Maybe.”

Robin elbowed him playfully. “Look at you, finally asking.”

Chapter Eighteen: Deeper Water

At some point, Robin had sprawled across the couch and knocked out mid-sentence, one arm flung dramatically over her face. Eddie was curled up in a mismatched blanket on the floor, snoring faintly with a half-empty bag of chips under his hand.

Steve was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water, jeans rolled up to his calves. When he heard you step onto the concrete, he looked over his shoulder.

“They’re out cold,” you said.

He grinned. “Knew that would knock Eddie out. Robin was a surprise, though.”

You came over, sitting beside him and dipping your feet in too. The water was cool against your skin, shocking and perfect.

You leaned back on your hands, looking up. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Nights like this.”

Steve tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “When everything goes quiet. When you’ve got nowhere to be and no one’s watching. Feels like… a different version of life. Like nothing matters but this exact second.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

The joint made everything feel a little softer. The pool lights under the surface made the water look like it was glowing. You turned to him, and his gaze was already on you.

“You still wanna swim?” you asked.

His grin returned, slower this time. “Hell yeah.”

You stripped down to your bra and underwear without a word, standing and walking to the edge. He tried not to stare, but he absolutely failed.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled.

You turned your head just enough to smirk. “You coming or what?”

He was already pulling his shirt over his head, jeans off a second later. You both jumped in, the splash echoing across the empty yard. The cold hit hard at first, but then it felt good. Like it washed everything off you.

You floated on your back for a moment, watching the dark above, then drifted closer to where Steve treaded water near the deep end.

“You ever think about how different we used to be?” you asked softly.

He nodded, water glinting off his collarbones. “All the time.”

“I hated you,” you whispered, but your voice wasn’t cruel. It was honest. Soft.

Steve’s voice was lower now. “I thought you were too cool for me.”

You looked at him. Really looked.

“But I wasn’t,” you said.

“No,” he said, moving a little closer, water rippling between you. “You were real. And I didn’t know how to handle that.”

Your hands brushed beneath the surface. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re different now,” you said.

“So are you.”

You weren’t sure who moved first—maybe both of you. But suddenly his mouth was close. Breath ghosting over your lips. His eyes searching yours like a question.

You answered by kissing him.

It wasn’t soft—not at first. It was heat and hunger and tension unraveling all at once. His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer as your legs drifted and tangled together. You kissed him like you had something to prove—maybe that the version of you he used to see wasn’t all there was.

Steve kissed you like he was afraid he’d wake up.

You didn’t come up for air for a while.

When you finally did, foreheads touching, breath shaky, you both just floated there in the water, caught in something quiet and real.

No past.

No noise.

Just this.

Bonus: “You’re Kidding Me.”

Robin was the first to stir, blinking awake on Steve’s couch, groaning like she’d just been hit by a car. “Ow. My neck. My spine. My soul.”

She sat up slowly, glancing around. Eddie was still passed out on the floor, curled like a possum in a pile of throw blankets.

No sign of Steve.

No sign of you.

Robin narrowed her eyes.

She stood, stretched, and padded toward the kitchen just as Eddie woke with a theatrical yawn and a dramatic, “I think I saw God in my dreams.”

“Cool,” Robin muttered, grabbing two mugs. “Help me find the sinners.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“They’re not in the guest room,” Robin said. “Or the couch. Which leaves…”

Eddie’s grin slowly stretched as realization bloomed.

“No. Way.”

Robin didn’t wait. She walked straight to Steve’s bedroom, didn’t knock, didn’t hesitate.

She flung open the door.

And froze.

You and Steve were tangled in his bed, half-covered by the sheets, limbs unmistakably not platonic. His hand was curled against your hip. Your face was tucked into his chest. One of your legs was across his.

You both blinked at her in half-conscious horror.

Robin’s jaw dropped.

Behind her, Eddie leaned in, saw the scene, and gasped like he’d just discovered a secret affair in a soap opera.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

“Shut the door!” Steve hissed, sitting up, hair a mess, eyes wide.

Robin didn’t move. Just blinked. “You swam.”

“Robin—”

“You swam and then you swam,” she said, voice pitching up.

You pulled the sheet up over your face.

Eddie cracked up, full-on laughing now, doubled over. “I knew it! I told you! I saw the way you were eyeing each other at the pool like horny teenagers.”

“You are teenagers,” Robin shot back. “Emotionally.”

Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please—both of you—leave so I can die in peace?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Robin said. “This is my Roman Empire now.”

You peeked out from the sheets, cheeks burning but eyes defiant. “If you tell anyone—”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie said, hand on his heart. “We’re telling everyone.”

Robin grinned. “After we get details.”

Steve buried his face in the pillow. “Kill me.”

“You did that yourself, loverboy.”

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 14

[chap thirteen] | [all chapters here] | [chapter fifteen]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers, smut & nsfw themes

Author's Note | Weeell not to give anything away, but I've brought us all a lil treat with this chapter, so eat up my lovelies~~

WC | 6.9k

Chapter Fourteen

“Fu-uck--!” You moaned loudly, head lulled back, mouth hung wide open, eyes rolled into the back of your skull.

A wet-hot mouth ravaged you, tongue swirling your clit as a single finger slowly, tantalizingly worked in and out of you. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, clenching vice like around the head buried between your legs. Your hands desperately grabbed at the bedsheets, your nails pressing into your palms through the thin fabric. 

The mystery man moaned eagerly against your clit, his mouth sucking and nipping in just the right way to drive you absolutely wild. His free hand sent a shiver up your spine as dexterous fingers traced their way up your thigh, your hip, your waist, cupping your breast with a needy squeeze. He teasingly rolled your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger, causing your back to arch with a gasp. 

In the next breath, his palm pressed firmly between your breasts and forced you to lie back down, his mouth becoming impossibly more insistent and passionate as he lapped at your throbbing wet center. You couldn't help but squirm and writhe, moaning uncontrollably with pleasure; it's as if your body was being both unraveled and wound tight at the same time, sending you into a salacious spiral. 

A pathetic, primal sound escaped you as a jolt of pleasure rocked your body hard, forcing you to desperately grab at the man’s mop of curls, tugging as if his mouth was too much for you, as if you were about to spill over. Your eyes were hooded and crossed as you looked down the expanse of your body towards him, gaze focusing on the calloused, flexed hand pressing firmly against your torso; the fingers were adorned with rings, the metal warm against your sweaty, sticky skin.

As the man's rhythm grew frantic, he inserted another finger, a surprised mewl leaping from your throat as you once more threw your head back. Your hips rutted with jerky, raunchy motions against his hot mouth, knees twitching and toes curling as he guided you directly towards your climax. The uncontrollable and desperate sounds leaving your mouth were pornographic, a mess of swears and moans and high-pitched panting. Your thighs were like a bear trap around his skull once you finally reached your peak, hips stuttering against his unrelenting mouth as you threw your head back, vision going black.

He continued to tease at you for a few torturous moments, extracting his fingers only to lap his tongue slowly along your folds. You struggled to catch your breath, weak sighs falling from your lips as his mouth pleasured you.

Finally, he relented, his breath hot between your legs as he slowly pulled back, tracing his lips gently along the inside of your thigh. Your hands fell limply from his mess of hair as you looked down at him, a goofy, satisfied smile spreading across your lips as your chest rose and fell heavily.

When Eddie looked up at you with a devious, lustful grin, your heart dropped as confusion quickly overtook your features. He slowly wrapped his lips around his cum-soaked fingers, sucking them clean as he held your gaze, the dangerous look on his face utterly captivating. 

“Fuck, you taste like sin, princess…”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It was utterly startling to wake up from a wet dream about Eddie, your eyes shooting open as your alarm clock blared loudly from the nightstand. Disoriented and uncomfortably aroused, you lay there staring at the ceiling for a few long moments, ignoring your clock as the lusty image of Eddie seared itself into your memory. This was not what you needed to start your Friday, but evidently your subconscious had other ideas.

Mouth agape and eyes wide with surprise, you blindly slapped at your bedside table until finally you hand haphazardly turned off the alarm; you were nearly too stunned to move, limbs heavy as you throbbed between your legs.

Fuck, that was far too realistic, it had your head in a tizzy. The feel of Eddie’s hands on your body, of his mouth on your clit… You gasped smally while clenching around nothing, the sensations all the more potent thanks to your sleep-heavy brain. With an annoyed sigh, you closed your eyes as your jaw tensed, but that only made it worse, as behind your lids you could perfectly visualize the carnal gleam on Eddie’s features as he licked his own fingers; the profane imagery made you shudder and squeeze again.

How the hell were you supposed to function for a whole day following a wet dream like that? How were you supposed to look Eddie in the eye or simply exist in the same vicinity as him without thinking of how hot it would be to have his head buried snuggly between your legs?

Considering that the two of you had spent the entire week pretending your impromptu kiss on Monday hadn’t happened, this was a cruel trick for your own mind to play on you. Both you and Eddie had been avoiding any and all discussion regarding that kiss, as if eventually the memory of it would fade away into obscurity. And you thought that had been going well, considering that you could finally behave normally around him as the week progressed.

But that pesky subconscious of yours clearly had other plans.

You huffed loudly, as if that exhale of breath would also rid you of your dream, but to no avail. God, you couldn’t believe this - rarely had you ever had a wet dream before, and now you just had to have one about Eddie? That was just fucking cruel.

At odds with yourself, you were very nearly tempted to take an extra couple of minutes and work out the pent up desire stirring between your legs - that wouldn’t be such a bad thing would it? Just let your hand wander south, so long as you don't take too long, you’d still have enough time to get ready for school…

No, you couldn’t do that, not when less than savory images of Eddie plagued your every thought. You could not touch yourself while picturing his handsome face - you were supposed to be getting over this crush, you couldn’t cave thanks to a sex dream. A really, really hot sex dream that felt a little too good and a little too real…

You abruptly sat up, resisting your urges with every fiber of your being. With a determined glare, you kicked away your blankets and stomped from your bed to your bathroom, hellbent on not thinking about Eddie or that dream. All you needed was a shower to freshen up and forget, that would surely get your head back on track.

But apparently you were far more weak willed than you gave yourself credit for. Within a few minutes of stepping into the steamy shower, your hand snaked between your legs before you could stop yourself, your fingers swirling your clit and dipping between your folds. With your opposite hand, you had to muffle the sound of your whimpers, Eddie’s wanton gaze appearing in vivid detail behind your closed eyes as you moaned for him.

It was the fastest you’d ever made yourself cum, and for a minute you were swept up in just how damn good it felt. But all too quickly, frantic regret set it - now there wasn’t a chance in hell that you could look Eddie in the eye today thanks to the fact that you masturbated while thinking of him.

What was it that you’d told yourself earlier this week? That you didn’t like Eddie? That this crush on him would pass?

After this morning, you knew you were royally screwed, and there was no hope that you’d get over it just like that.

Thanks to the dramatic fight you’d had with your family this past weekend, you ended up grounded yet again. This time it was for real, your father hiding your car keys and your mother begrudgingly chauffeuring you to school and the ice rink - Wednesday was the first time you’d been skating in over a week, and although you missed the sport that used to be the center of your world, you were also coming to loathe it very, very quickly.

Your mother was always running late because she had no concept of time - you’d show up at school at different times every single morning, you’d be stuck there waiting for her for about half an hour every day. More than once, Eddie offered to drive you, but you insisted that neither of you tempt fate at the moment - things were bad with your family right now, and given how exhausted you were by everything, you weren’t currently in the mood to push your luck.

And, so, you were late again today, luckily able to run to your English class with only seconds to spare - your teacher glowered as you darted through the door just as the bell rang, collapsing into your seat with a huff, fixing your hair as you caught your breath.

Within the first ten minutes of the lecture, your mind began to wander despite your best efforts - as the class discussed the writings of Hawthorne, the only thing you were able to think about was the way Dream-Eddie’s tongue worked against you, the way his hands so easily and gently controlled your body.

All through class, your thighs were clenched tightly together; at one point in a particularly good part of your daydream, a small, desperate sound escaped you, and you frantically looked around in the hopes that no one else heard it.

Today was going to be a long fucking day.

You were able to calm down for at least a couple hours, able to briefly forget about Dream-Eddie’s sultry eyes and skilled mouth for a few minutes at a time, though the images of it would always inevitably come back to you. And then, of course, your dreaded fourth period class rolled around, and realizing that you’d have to sit next to Eddie for a whole hour was utterly terrifying. Hell, the closer you got to that suddenly ominous classroom, the slower you walked, as if somehow that could spare you the shame and uncomfortable titillation you’d been feeling all morning.

As you walked, you tried your best to hype yourself up - it was stupid to be nervous about seeing Eddie, so very stupid to be made a nervous wreck over a boy. Were you not the ice princess, the girl who was too rigid and bitchy to feel intimidated by boys? You never got nervous like this about Duncan, or the ex-boyfriends before him, or any other boy for that matter, so why Eddie?

With a resolute expression, you straightened your shoulders, raising your chin high in confidence - you weren’t going to get nervous around Eddie and you weren’t going to think about that damn dream. As you repeated this to yourself like a mantra, you began to feel better, began to feel your nerves slowly leaving you.

Until a familiar arm slung across your shoulders, body bumping into yours slightly as Eddie’s earthy scent immediately engulfed you. All that confidence came tumbling down as your heart jumped in your chest, body growing stiff as you tried to will yourself not to feel a wave of arousal merely from his presence.

“Missed you this morning, princess.” Eddie greeted, his voice all too charming, the sound of your nickname on his lips practically sending a shiver up your spine - was he laying it on extra thick, or were you just alert to the point of paranoia? Eyes slightly wide, you looked up, feeling your cheeks growing warm as you met his gaze; he looked back at you with that stupid warm grin of his, not yet catching onto your trepidation.

You’d better keep it that way.

You pressed your lips tightly together as you composed yourself, hoping that your expression was convincingly nonchalant. The corner of your mouth pulled up into a slight smirk, though you were certain the amusement didn’t even remotely reach your eyes.

“Late again.” You answered simply, your gaze lingering on Eddie’s lips for a long moment before you whipped your attention back to the hallway ahead of you. You could feel Eddie’s eyes still watching, as if he were assessing your mood; you could feel your own anxious heartbeat growing faster under his all too watchful stare.

Eddie simply hummed to himself, which made you curious, but you didn’t mention it. After a few tense seconds, he continued, “You still grounded?”

“Yup.” You popped the ‘p,’ chewing at the inside of your lip - god, you were doing a terrible job of acting normal and unaffected. Eddie knew you far too well now, he’d know that your short answers and distant eyes meant something. As if it would make the situation better, you looked back up at him with as casual an expression as you could manage, “Maybe if my dad’s in a good mood I’ll get my keys back.”

Eddie snorted, which made your heart flutter; why that of all things charmed you was utterly ridiculous, “Is your dad ever in a good mood?”

You gave him your first genuine smile of the day - one encounter with your father, and Eddie already had that man figured out. Eddie’s eyes twinkled at the look on your face, causing your nerves to spike again, the back of your neck hot as you looked down at your feet.

Hoping to keep up your charade, you answered, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that asshole in a good mood my entire life.”

You two entered class and sat in your respective seats, Eddie setting his foot on the basket below your chair - it was a habit of his that you were always amused by, his stretching his long leg across the aisle simply because he could. You fussed with your belongings, digging out your notebook and pencil, absentmindedly flipping the pages of your math textbook. Anything not to look at Eddie, else you may give yourself away, and you’d already given away too much.

But his eyes still burned into you, you just knew it, and after a minute, the weight of his foot on the basket shifted, growing heavier as he leaned across the aisle; you knew he wanted you to look at him, so hesitantly you did. His brows were furrowed as he studied you, his lips pressed together as if he were trying to figure you out. You raised your own eyebrows at him, but the longer you stared, the more you were reminded of that sex dream; before you realized what you were doing, you clenched your thighs together while taking a careful breath.

“Is something wrong?” Eddie finally asked, and damn it, even his concern was making you horny in some annoying, ridiculous way that didn’t make any sense. You rapidly shook your head, to which he immediately narrowed his eyes - you were doing a piss-poor job at acting normal, “Are you getting worse at lying, princess?”

You pulled an affronted face, although the way Eddie was looking at you even now was making your knees weak. His expression relaxed a little, his eyes slowly lowering from your eyes towards your lips, pausing there for a moment before he looked you up and down as if to figure out what was going on in your head. Like some lovestruck fool, you sighed with a shiver thanks to his dark, attentive stare.

How the hell were you going to survive the rest of the afternoon if these past few minutes alone were getting you heated all over again?

“When you wanna talk, just say so.” Eddie met your eyes again, awaiting some show of accord from you; so, you nodded shortly with an agreeable hum, all the while trying to resist that pesky desire to launch yourself across the aisle and into his lap.

You were thankful to hear the bell ring, hoping that the mundanities of math class would keep your mind from wandering or your eyes from lingering.

Within just a few minutes, though, the sound of Eddie’s fingers drumming atop his desk drew your attention over - at this rate, today was starting to feel like a goddamn sitcom. He absentmindedly drummed out an unfamiliar tune, alternating between that and drawing invisible, nonsensical shapes with his fingertips on the old wooden desktop. His fingers moved easily and thoughtlessly, swirling across the surface, dancing nimbly to whatever music may be in his head. Fuck, his hands were so dexterous, his fingers long and calloused…

You realized that your mouth was hanging open as you watched his attractive hands, and abruptly you snapped your jaw shut and shook your head. Were you really that horny that just Eddie’s distracted movements were doing something for you? What the hell was going on with your hormones today?

For the remainder of class you kept your eyes locked on the blackboard, although you most certainly weren’t taking in any of the droll information your teacher was sharing. Nope, you just couldn’t allow your gaze to drift back over to Eddie, you couldn’t let yourself look like a desperate fool all because he had nice hands and knew how to use them.

God, even that thought immediately messed you up. You clenched your jaw even tighter while trying your best not to think about what Eddie’s hands might be capable of doing.

You wished you could just run right out of the classroom once the lunch bell rang, but that would only confirm for Eddie that something was wrong, so you refrained. You tried to keep your shit together as he scooped up your bookbag for you, as he rested his arm comfortably across your shoulder, as he smiled down at you with such ease. Why was he so damn good at this fake boyfriend thing? It was irritating how charming you found it, how hot you found it.

Once the two of you had collected your lunches and joined your group at the table, Eddie surprised you by tugging your chair closer to his, a startled sound escaping you as you were suddenly pulled along against your will. The table snickered at the noise you made, and you shot Eddie a confused, if not mildly irritated, look. He simply shrugged with a mischievous smirk - as you narrowed your eyes, you realized he was probably taunting you so that your mood might improve. Seemed silly, but it was also a very Eddie thing to do, a habit he’d picked up somewhere along the way.

He rested his arm along the back of your chair, his fingertips occasionally brushing lightly along your shoulder; the first time it happened, you jolted a little at the touch, drawing his attention briefly. You simply bit your lip and hoped you didn’t look too nervous. You were starting to get the crazy impression that somehow Eddie could read your thoughts and that he was doing this on purpose.

“You guys see that Silver Bullet movie yet?” Jeff eventually asked the table about halfway through lunch, focusing his attention mostly on you. It felt as if everyone was anticipating your response, considering that you were now the resident horror fan of the group; you hadn’t asked for that title, but it had clearly been bestowed upon you. With a glance around, you sighed and took the lead, knowing they were hesitant to say anything on the subject before you did. You still had to work on getting these guys comfortable around you.

“We missed it for the party, remember?” You began, “And now I’m grounded, so who knows when the hell I’ll get to see it. If I get to see it.”

“Which one is that again?” Grant also looked at you, certain that you’d have the answer.

“Stephen King werewolf movie.” You explained simply, thankful for the distraction that the rest of the group was offering; horror was probably the only subject that could take your mind off anything else, “Based on one of his books, you guys should check it out.”

“When did he write a werewolf book?” Dustin chimed in, ever eager to make some kind of connection with you. Although you had no interest in becoming friends with the freshmen, you couldn’t help but feel them growing on you, much to your chagrin.

“I thought he wrote a vampire one.” Mike added, and you rolled your eyes in anticipation of yet another match of bickering between the three stooges.

“He’s a horror writer, he’s practically written everything already.” You interjected, having the answers that everyone else clearly lacked.

So, you went into a tangent about Cycle of the Werewolf, Salem’s Lot, and the respective film adaptations. Once horror was brought up, the entire group would eventually shut up just to listen to you go on and on about the subject.

It was as you were rambling about werewolf lore - a particular horror subject you were fond of - that you had enough courage to finally glance over at Eddie again. You’d been avoiding his dangerous gaze through all of lunch, growing nervous each time you caught him staring from the corner of your eye. But you’d gotten into a groove with your impromptu horror lecture, allowing yourself to finally look at him again with renewed confidence.

But, damn, did you choose the wrong moment to do so.

Eddie was always so attentive when you went into these little tangents of yours - his gaze was almost unblinking as he took in each and every word you said as if they were of the utmost importance. And this time was no different, his expression relaxed and easy as his eyes watched you closely.

But Eddie’s unwavering focus meant he wasn’t paying attention to the shitty cafeteria cheeseburger in his hand; ketchup oozed onto his fingers just as you happened to glance in his direction. He looked down at his hand for only a moment to acknowledge the mess before promptly returning his eyes to you, way, way too invested in what you had to say about werewolf lore.

You were almost in a trance as you held one another’s gaze, Eddie slowly bringing his hand to his mouth, the action immediately causing your heart rate to increase in both fear and desire. It felt like the moment was in slow motion as he first swiped his tongue along his forefinger, then sucked ketchup off the tip of his thumb. Everything about the action was fucking tantalizing and nearly excruciating, his thumb resting against his lips, his tongue poking out from between his teeth as his eyes practically burned into yours.

Fuck, you taste like sin, princess…

You hadn’t realized that your words had trailed off, that your mouth hung open dumbly as you and Eddie stared at one another. It almost seemed as if he were trapped in the moment as well, lost in your hooded, lecherous stare. Your gaze went back and forth between his lips and his eyes, far too turned on by the way he licked his fingers clean.

“Hey, lovebirds, stop being freaking weird!” Dustin’s insistent shout drew both you and Eddie out of your trance, your eyes widening as you whipped your attention to the boy. The whole table seemed to be watching you two, and as your cheeks grew boiling hot, you wondered just how long you were staring, just how long you two were dumbly lost in your own world, just how long everyone had been watching you two make eyes at each other.

Clearly unphased by the awkwardness that had just transpired, Dustin continued, “What the hell were you saying about silver? You left us hanging because you were fucking ogling him.”

Your face grew even warmer, your entire body flush with shame - shit it was so fucking obvious that even a dumb freshman could see it. You blinked while trying to regain your composure, giving Dustin a provoked look, hoping that if you just acted bitchy enough it would distract everyone from the weird moment that had passed between you and Eddie.

You glared coldly at Dustin, leaning forward a little with a taunting tone, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yeah, I would, that’s why I asked.” He countered, which would have made you laugh were you not trying to mask your embarrassment. You clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing as you tried to think of a smart comeback.

“Too busy ogling my boyfriend to remember, I guess.” You nearly panicked even as you said it, but you thought it sounded convincingly bratty and unaffected.

You dared not look at Eddie as you rested back in your seat with crossed arms, hoping everyone would just move on and forget the whole thing. But you also suspected that they could all tell that you were mortified, that they’d all whisper later about the way you stared wickedly at Eddie with his fingers in his mouth. The mental image of it practically made you shudder all over again.

You were half tempted to jump from your seat and disappear from the cafeteria, desperate for some space from Eddie and an escape from your self-consciousness. But that would surely draw even more attention to the whole situation, and you really didn’t need that right now. So, you stubbornly slumped in your seat and looked around the table, your gaze menacing enough that Gareth took your cue and jumped into a new subject.

From the corner of your eye, you were certain Eddie was still watching you, but you weren’t feeling quite brave enough to look at him just yet.

As lunch carried on and the group jumped from subject to subject, you eventually felt Eddie’s hand ever-so-gently at your shoulder, his arm having been on the back of your chair the entire time; you couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he seemed to be drawing shapes against the fabric of your shirt. You turned your head just enough to glance at his hand, but not enough to draw attention to what you were doing; for a brief moment, you watched his fingers in your periphery, feeling heat pool in your abdomen at the relaxed way his hand moved.

You allowed yourself to finally look towards Eddie’s face again, gazing up through your lashes carefully. He was watching his friends, but the minute your eyes were on him, he seemed to feel it; his eyes flicked to meet yours, the corner of his mouth pulling back when he realized he was being watched. Your heart skipped as you tried to smirk back, feeling stupid at how giddy you were because of a simple fucking glance.

Eddie shot you a quick wink before returning his attention to the conversation, which made you feel warm from head to toe, nervously casting your eyes down as your heart drummed in your ears.

God, was he doing it on purpose? Eddie had never been this flirty and teasing before, right? Or had you never noticed it? He couldn’t have known what was going through your head, so why did it seem as if he’d turned the charm dial all the way up to eleven?This was pure torture right now, but all you could do was smile and bear it, hoping that no one could tell how you were practically melting all thanks to Eddie. You couldn't wait for lunch hour to be over, for the whole day to be over - then you could bury your head in your pillows and hope for your embarrassment to go away… Or maybe you’d be plagued by more wet dreams. Both options sounded as if they’d only add to your torment, and you very nearly groaned dismally in anticipation.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Once school wrapped up for the day and your mother eventually arrived to get you, you were brought back to the ice rink; thanks to your annoyingly tantalizing day, you’d all but forgotten that you’d be dragged back to the rink, groaning about it once you realized which direction your mother was heading in. You’d been chewed out by your coach on Wednesday, who reprimanded you for skipping your last Friday class without a word spoken to her. You had a feeling she’d be there waiting for you again, keeping an eye and ensuring that you were taking this responsibility seriously. Maybe if you just acted like enough of a bitch, she’d take the Friday classes from you - or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

So, you were once more skating laps around the rink, twirling amongst the kids who were struggling to keep up with you. You harshly barked directions, correcting postures and angles without a concern for how mean you may have sounded. You couldn’t tell if you were just in a foul mood, or if the kids were being extra annoying tonight. Either way, it was at least a temporary distraction from thinking about Eddie.

But life certainly had a twisted sense of humor - once you’d wrapped up your class and stepped outside, an all too familiar van was parked near the front of the lot, causing your brow to furrow as you quickly looked around you. Eddie was sitting on a bench with a cigarette between his lips, far enough away from the door that he wouldn’t draw any harsh glances from parents picking up their kids. Pulled between two reactions, you were both excited to see him and nervous as all hell to be near him.

He acknowledged you with an easy grin once you approached, scooching over on the bench to make room for you. When you didn’t immediately sit down, he insistently patted the seat with a tenacious look. You couldn’t help the little smile that graced your lips, and so you sat beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two. Eddie offered you the cigarette, which you happily took from his hand.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked him, crossing your legs on the bench and watching as cars entered and exited the parking lot.

“Checking on you.” Eddie answered simply; you held the cigarette back towards him once you took a hit, “You were weird today.”

A surprised, nervous laugh escaped your mouth, smoke floating out with it as you felt a shiver of anxiety roll through you, “Strange way to compliment a girl.”

Although you weren’t looking at him, you could imagine the face that Eddie made; you could almost hear the beguiled eyeroll in his voice, “Just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Now, you glanced over at him, enjoying the look of his profile before he also turned to face you. You nervously dropped your gaze, staring at the cigarette between his fingers.

“See, like that.” He took a drag and leaned towards you just a little, dipping his head in an attempt to catch your eyes. Smoke slowly trailed out of his nose, and you watched its tendrils spiral out into the air before you let yourself look Eddie in the eye. His stare nearly made you shiver, reminded of your dream all over again.

In his usual way, Eddie grinned easily; he was clearly assessing your mood, and decided humor was the best tactic, if that mischievous glint in his eyes said anything. He dipped his head towards your conspiratorially, smile growing wider as if amused by whatever thought just crossed his mind, “Are you breaking up with me?”

The joke took you aback, and another laugh slipped out of you, your eyes finally relaxing as you shook your head and smiled wide. For that moment, your dream was forgotten, the two of you grinning at each other like little kids far too pleased with themselves.

You rolled your eyes with amusement, “Me? Never.”

“Good.” Eddie bumped your shoulder, relaxing back against the bench as he watched cars come and go, “So, then tell me what’s wrong.”

You eyed him again, lips pressed tightly together at his persistence. You had to come up with something if you wanted him to drop the subject, even if that something was a shitty little lie. Anything but admitting “I had a sex dream about you, Eddie!”

The answer was right in front of you, though it made you nonetheless nervous to discuss it - you had to talk about Monday. You two should have already talked about it regardless, but it would be a much easier subject to breach than the raunchy truth behind why you were being distant today. So, taking a deep breath, you caved.

“Monday.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, hoping you didn’t come across too nervous. Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by the response, although in the next instance there was acceptance in his face - it made you think that he’d been thinking about Monday, too, especially once he scratched the back of his neck in that nervous way of his, “I shouldn’t have done that; put you in an odd spot.”

He shook his head reassuringly, giving you a lopsided grin, hiding any nerves he may have had about the subject, “I mean, it surprised the hell outta me… but if I were you, I probably would’ve done the same thing. Stick it to the assholes, right?”

You smile back faintly, thankful that he wasn’t making a big deal of it, “Well, next time I want to stick it to the assholes, I’ll at least give you a warning first.”

Eddie made a look of agreement while dropping his cigarette to the ground, snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe.

You studied him closely for a few moments, thinking about not only the kiss on Monday, but the kiss that almost certainly happened at the party. You still couldn’t remember most of it, but maybe that was because you didn’t want to remember it either. Moments of it had come back to you throughout the week - little glimpses at memories that you think happened. You playing with Eddie’s hair; Eddie running his fingers along your arm; you kissing Eddie’s neck.

At some point during the week, maybe it was Wednesday or Thursday, Eddie caught you humming a tune and did a double take, asking with dread where you’d heard the song before - up till that moment, you weren’t sure if it was a real song or something made up in your head. But the question reminded you that at some point you had crawled into the front of the van for a cassette player, although you couldn’t recall what artist had played - something told you that’s where the song came from, considering it’d been in your head for days.

This week really had been a strange kind of torture for you.

“I wasn’t your first kiss, right?” You questioned, suddenly worried that that was the case. He laughed smally at the question, shaking his head with a smirk.

“No, that wasn’t my first kiss.”

You sighed with relief, “Good, I would’ve felt awful if it was.”

“Why?” His brow furrowed, attentively watching for your response. You gaped for just a moment, fearful of saying something stupid.

“Because I would hate to steal your first kiss, that’s all.” Eddie smiled, which should have put you at ease, and yet it didn’t.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if you had - there are worse things.” Your heart skipped - why did Eddie keep doing this to you? Keep charming you and flirting with you, whether intentional or not.

Your cheeks grew warm, so you looked away from him, staring down at the ground. As you relaxed, your curiosity suddenly got the better of you; you debated for a moment whether or not to ask the question that crossed your mind.

“So, who was your first kiss?” You grinned to yourself, trying to spy Eddie’s reaction in your periphery; it looked as if he shook his head, maybe debating how to respond. You shuffled your body so that you were facing him, knees pressed lightly against his thigh as you gave him an eager look. It made Eddie smile, happy to appease you as he sighed in agreement.

“Mark Warner’s older sister.”

Your jaw dropped a little in disbelief, to which Eddie gave you a trepidatious look, as if fearing your reaction. You furrowed your brow, searching his face for a lie or joke, but there was none to be found. So, all you could do was laugh, leaning towards Eddie as you struggled to picture the girl he was talking about.

“Pru, right? No wait, it was Paige? Damn.” You tried to recall the girl’s face, but you came up blank - you’d only met her once before at one of Mark’s parties, but that was so damn long ago that you weren’t entirely sure what she looked like. No, the most you knew about Paige came straight from her brother’s mouth, and you hadn’t seen that kid in a couple years.

“Yeah, yeah, no one believes me.” Eddie grinned with a shake of his head. You were far too curious now, giving Eddie an eager nudge.

“Well, how the hell did that happen? You two meet at school? Wait, how old is she?”

“One thing at a time, princess.” He teased, taking in your excited expression with surprise, “We met at the Hideout a couple years ago, bonded over music, dated for a little bit.”

“You dated?” Despite your curiosity, you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that hit you - they met at the Hideout? And they dated? Had he met other girls there, too? Did he ever take other girls to his gigs? This was something you should not have felt territorial about, and yet you couldn't help yourself. You hoped your face hadn’t given you away, because Eddie did not need to know you were jealous of his ex.

Eddie gave a simple nod before his expression grew conspiratory, “What about you? Who was your first kiss?”

You rolled your eyes at the memory that came to you, always finding the story amusing, “Oh, it’s stupid.”

“That makes it even better.” Eddie teased, now grinning wickedly in anticipation, which made you excited to share.

“I was in sixth grade - it was my first real party, there were older kids there, and everyone wanted to play spin the bottle. I ended up kissing Steve Harrington.” You blushed a little at the memory, looking away from Eddie as if embarrassed by it; he laughed with gleeful delight, “God, it was so dumb, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Harrington, huh…” Eddie mulled it over before laughing again, “I guess that makes mine better than yours; I didn’t have to kiss someone in front of a bunch of hormonal preteens.”

“Yeah, some of the other girls weren’t happy about it… So, I kissed him again later that night.” You shrugged as if you were innocent, causing Eddie to chuckle once more.

“Were you always a little asshole?” Eddie smiled from ear-to-ear, his eyes alight with utter amusement. You shoved him with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Why do you find it so funny?” He gave a noncommittal look in response, and you shook your head at the lack of explanation.

“You weren’t into Harrington, were you?”

“Hell no, he was so damn clean cut, it’s boring; so not my type.” Eddie fished out another cigarette, and briefly you wondered how long you two had been sitting here already. After he lit it, Eddie took a hit and handed it to you.

“Then what is your type?” He asked as smoke fell from his lips, “Duncan seems pretty clean cut to me.”

You gave him a snide look, “Okay, so my track record doesn’t add up.”

Eddie continued grinning as he watched you breath in smoke before slowly blowing it into the space between you two, “Yeah, you’ve always gone for pretty boys, haven’t you?”

Did he sound… defeated - jealous, even - or were you just imagining that?

“Well, most guys were too afraid to flirt with me, so I had limited options.” You stared at one another as if conveying something unsaid, nervously swallowing a lump in your throat. Putting on your best comedic smile, you added, “So, thanks for flirting with me, Munson, even if I had to bribe you to do it.”

Eddie grinned in good humor, leaning in as if he had a secret, “Is ‘the Freak’ more your type, princess?”

You inhaled nervously, anxiety suddenly weighing on your chest - fuck, he was asking that as a joke, right? This wasn’t real flirting, was it? You tried in vain to keep your expression calm, but you were certain Eddie had seen your falter, even if it was only for a moment.

But by some stroke of luck, you were saved by a pair of headlights illuminating the two of you, followed by the honking of a horn. Your mother’s voice impatiently called your name, to which you rolled your eyes in frustration, scooping up your gym bag with a heavy sigh. Eddie stood, tugging you to your feet and pulling you into an unexpected hug that was a little too tight - it took you a moment, but you realized it was a show for your mother, a little way to annoy her. He took a deep inhale as if smelling your shampoo, his lips grazing your temple as he pulled back.

“Catch you next week.” Eddie smiled at you softly before waving tauntingly in your mother’s direction. You tried to refrain from laughing while jogging to the car, taking a moment to shoot Eddie one last smile over your shoulder.

.

.

addt. Author's Note | Is it cruel to cold open with a hot little wet dream, or is it exactly the thing we all needed? Also, if you're missing from the taglist, lemme know, I was cleaning it up earlier, and now I'm nervous names are missing lol

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie

@dreamerjj @eddiernunson @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames

@graciehams @kellsck @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths @lotrefcp

@love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili @miaajaade

@miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer

@nxrdamp @rach5ive @rcailleachcola @sav12321 @seatbacksandtraytables

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19 @swiftsgirlfriend @welcometohellsock

@whats-my-question @xxsxdghxstxx

[black-dhalias]

The Bear, the Rose, and the Song

Rosalie Hale X Emmett Cullen X Poly!Reader

Includes SMUT towards the end

Nothing quite like an evening at the mountain peak, especially with such a wonderful woman at your side. You glance over, noting the perfection that is your wife—nothing quite like it at all.

The way she tucked her legs up under her as she leaned into your side, her left hand twisting circles in your hair. Her right hand intertwined with yours. In the sunrise, you both shimmered, but she seemed to shine—her eyes shut as the sunlight brushes her cheeks. Is this heaven?

Your hum, seemed to call to her as she glances in your direction. Nothing short of perfection. "Are you ready to head back?" You shook your head, adamant that you want to stay—your cheek against her hair, enjoying the dance of sun off the blonde curls.

"I could stay like this forever..." She smiles, you hum again and return the gesture—your fingers tightening their grasp as she slides closer.

A scream cuts through the silence, splitting the mountains in two as a breeze shifts the air. The thick scent of blood that sings like a song you once sang.

"Y/N?" You look back, realizing you had stood and were now at the cliffs edge—you swallow, there is concern in those amber eyes. An emotion that often clings to her, she worries too much, but now—in this moment, you can't explain the song. You tug her hand, eyes shifting in the direction of the scent—begging her listen, pleading her to hear your pleas.

Rosalie always understood, but now, she hesitates. You were older and more compassionate, you had more control—more experience. You were simply a better person.

In this moment, you felt different.

She notes the purse of your lips, the way your eyes shifted ever so slightly. She notes the way you tugged her hand again, this time more forcefully. Ready to take the leap, with or without her, and she'd never let you jump alone.

That was the day you found Emmett, you can recall the bloodlust with a perfect clarity, until you saw the way Rosalie looked at him. Even in that moment, even knowing the song his blood sang—you were content in waiting back.

Watching as her gentle fingers brushed his curls and whispered comforts as she carried him. Now as you watch them, you smile fondly at the pair—embracing the chaos of their many personalities left you whole in ways you did not understand.

Ways you felt you did not deserve.

"Y/N!" Emmett makes grabby hands in your direction, the way Rose was tucked in his chest already as he lounged across the bed.

You smile, notating the way he seemed to brighten with the gesture. The way his blood once sang, now it was simply him. Rosalie, she was your lover, a mate, and Emmett was your singer. A connection that could hardly be matched, except by a mate. It seemed perfect when you all connected, falling into rhythm like a symphony.

.

.

.

"So Y/N can't talk?" Bella asked Edward, as he explained his family dynamic—one of the elder Cullens, you didn't go to school like the rest despite being similar in age.

"More like doesn't. Y/N wasn't changed by Carlisle and only joined him a few months after he left the Volturi—a lot of their human memories are fuzzy, but they were maimed in an experimental procedure." Bella's eyebrows furrowed, trying to imagine why you wouldn't speak—you seemed so sweet, but never spoke a word.

"Ho-?" The word didn't even finish before Edward interrupted her.

"Someone crudely removed their vocal cords among other things, so when they turned. They healed, but—" Edward inhales, glancing over at Bella in the passenger seat.

"But they never quite recovered. Y/N is roughly 200, but only found Rosalie in 1933 and Emmett 2 years later. She spent her first 100 years alone and unheard, Rose helped her find a voice again." Bella notes his smile at his adopted siblings.

"They still don't talk?" He shakes his head.

"But they sing."

Rosalie could hear the velvety sound of your voice, it seemed to carry warmth and comfort. Every word echoes off the walls of the cottage as the rain patters on top of the porch roof—you spoke next to nothing, but your voice seemed to bury itself in song.

There were no reservations, the piano seemed to harmonize with the rain. Rosalie leaned her head onto the doorframe, just listening as everything poured out of your soul.

You never let Rosalie walk alone, every strain and stress was your burden to share. Your love was never questionable to her, held no strings or stipulations—she never had to earn it.

She felt Emmett’s presence, close, but too close. His eyes shimmering a brilliant red, you were quick to bring him here. The little getaway cabin where you spent many years with Rosalie, enjoying her without the shame. “Have they always talked?”

He couldn’t remember ever hearing you say a word, but he remembered your face with perfect detail. The way you smiled. How Rosalie gravitated to you.

“It’s complicated.” She smiles softly, never looking away. “They’ll sing everything you’ll ever need to hear.” You use ASL mostly, Rosalie had taken it upon herself to learn years ago, but you kept to yourself.

Emmett had found this new life complicated, it felt intricate and challenging, but these two women. You and Rose. It didn’t seem impossible.

“It’s about you isn’t it?” She hmmms, you smile through the lyrics—playing out the notes. Emmett gestures, “The song. It’s about you.” Rosalie’s expression is soft as she looks at you.

“Maybe it’s about you too.”

Looking back, you’re almost certain that was the moment Emmett realized he would never be alone again. That he would always have someone on his side, no matter what.

Introspectively, you knew from the first minute, he was simply meant to be in your life. The same with Rosalie, she had been changed with the intent of being for Edward (a perverted thought that bothered you even now), but once you saw her. Heard those screams—not even Carlisle could deny it.

You didn’t move for three days as she begged you for death, and the silence that followed her change. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.” she recalls the whisper as she met your eye, “I never would have wanted this for you.”

It was the first and only time you ever spoke to her, your voice was soft and tender—it felt broken, she could feel the broken in your tone. Now she understands you more, loves you deeper than then.

“Rose?” Emmett looks up at her, before glancing at you across the room. There’s something so curious about quiet need held within his eyes. “Y/N?” You look back, practically coming to them instantly—you bent to their needs at all hours.

Emmett folded your hand in his and then hers, the dynamic felt natural as he summoned some courage. “I want to go with the others to school, with you Rose.” You smile, not feeling at all bothered that he felt ready to explore himself more. To venture away from the home the three of you built—in these four walls, it was just the three of you.

You nod, folding your other hand over his with eagerness—you place it over your heart, knowing you wouldn’t join them.

“I don’t want you to feel left—” You don’t even let him finish as you shake your head, moving your joined hands over his own heart. “But—” You lean up to give him a quick kiss, “Thank you. For always loving me.”

You feel Rosalie snake her arm around you, enjoying the way she leans down to kiss the top of your head. Was Emmett always this sentimental, no, but he always meant it.

••SMUT BELOW••

Rosalie laid out beneath you, lips hovering above her clit as your tongue rolled across the sensitive point. Your thumbs rolled circles in her thighs as your face buried itself in between, the soft pull of her fingers in your hair encouraged you. Her back arches as her body shivers beneath your mouth, she tasted like perfection.

The soft moans you elicited from her etch into your brain, as you pull away—her legs draped across shoulders and grin as you lick your lips. Even without needing breath, her chest heaves—the soft mounds of flesh grabbing your attention as they rise and fall in perfect harmony.

"Do you like what you see?" It felt like a dare, and she swears your eyes seem to come alight as you drop her legs and drag yourself upwards between them. Your bare stomach pressed against hers as you hover above: "Cmon love, I'm not going to break." You lower yourself, keeping your eyes locked on her—memorizing the face she makes as your lips lock over her nipple, tongue flicking as you grasp the other. Her eyes close, lips parting to let out another moan.

Letting go of her breast, you let your fingers drag across her soft skin—not an imperfection in sight. Without a second to breathe, you palm her mound with your hand—resting your middle finger just above the clit. Giving it just enough of a touch, to remind her exactly what it means to be yours. "Please..." You comply with the plea, sliding your finger downwards to touch her entrance before sliding inside.

Rosalie didn't shy away from moaning your name as you work her entrance, pacing yourself as you begin to kiss the other breast before bringing your lips up to kiss. Hoping she can taste herself on you.

You start slow with only a single finger, only entering half an inch before removing. After a minute, you place a second finger—driving it deeper as her lips part. Sweet noises bringing your closer as you increase your pace, working your thumb along her clit as you drive three fingers into her.

Large hands reach around your chest as the mattress shifts under Emmett's added weight. He palms your breasts in his hands, thumb and forefingers rolling your nipples. "I go out hunting, and almost miss all the fun." His tone is light as you smile at him, retracting your fingers and bringing them to his lips. He wraps his mouth around them, before smiling—looking down at Rosalie who was still breathless. "Oh Rose, you taste wonderful." He leans down to place a kiss between her thighs, never breaking eye contact as she bends to them both.

They were safe. They were warm and good, and everything icy about her melted beneath their fingertips.

Emmett wraps his hand around yours as he brings it back to her pussy, "I love when you do that.”

Your legs on either side of her thighs, one hand bracing while the other works Rosalie. You feel Emmett lay down on the end of the bed before his lips kiss your entrance. You shiver in anticipation, feeling him grasp your hips and pull you lower as his tongue moves through your folds and onto your clit with precision.

Rosalie came quickly again, her insides quivering as kisses you deeply enjoying the way your moans feel against her lips. She could feel your pleasure in every hesitation when his tongue hit the right spot. You felt warm like the world was on fire, as you remove your fingers from Rosalie and bury them in her hair.

Skin to skin, and you still attempted to bring her closer. Her breasts against yours, you felt high as you came. Breathing heavily as Emmett enjoyed every drop of your climax, loving your taste as he slid out from under you.

The mattress shifts as he lays beside you both, spooning your forms as Rosalie moves to lay inbetween. Her facing Emmett as you spoon her from behind—you can think of no better place than behind Rosalie Hale.

“Remember our first?” The memory lights up your mind as you recall your first time with the pair. You’d been with Rosalie before, but with them both, everything felt like it clicked into place.

Emmett was gentle with his touch, hesitant to get close to either of you knowing your past. But he wasn’t them, and as you guided his hands to grip onto Rosalie’s hips—you felt his confidence growing.

You smile up at him, sitting up with your head resting against your fist. Giving a soft nod, Emmett cannot explain how it feels to love you both.

It felt like a warm spring after a cold winter. A soft autumn breeze to cool the summer sun. It was the lull of water against the sand, or the roar of the falls against the rocks.

Emmett didn’t have many words and was never one for poetry, but that seemed to be a good start.

[medium-sized-snack-portion]

You know what I never thought about until now?

The Hakuna Matata Trio is actually a flavor of G/T if you think about it (or at least Size Difference)

Like obviously you have Timon and Pumbaa in itself:

That's a dynamic size duo there. But then you add Simba into the picture and-

That is a mixed size family right there if I've ever seen one.

Just look at this. Tell me this isn't peak G/T. Just a Tiny and his Giant adopted son he raised with his Mini Giant husband.

[signanothername]

What is Color and Cross's relationship like? We've seen a bit of it in the comic where Cross hurts Killer and it's peaked my interest

Think of it as like, the eldest sibling (Color) and youngest sibling (Cross) dynamic in a family

Where it’s like, Color actually has a big soft spot for Cross, and they have their own special bond, Cross tends to cause a lot of problems cause he can be really reckless, and so Color generally tries to keep an eye on him just out of worry that Cross will end up hurting himself in the process

Color is definitely also a bit tired of Cross’ bullshit but in a fond “what am I gonna do with you?” way

Cross actually looks up to Color, he thinks Color’s way of dealing with things as something that’s more of what he wishes to be, more patient, more confident, more focused, more open and honest, it’s something that he admires about Color a lot, so Cross definitely has a bit of an internal “I’d love to be a bit more like him one day”

Generally Color and Cross tend to have their own adventures, where Color would take Cross hiking with him, or even something as simple as taking him to get groceries together, Color is definitely trying to make Cross feel seen and heard, he loves Cross and knows he needs attention and to be treated like he truly matters, that Cross hates to feel ignored, and Color strives to give him what he needs, he makes sure to include Cross in even the little things of making decisions when grocery shopping for example, like he’d ask him what type of cheese he thinks would be better to buy or if he wanted to have his own things to buy, etc

And Cross does feel seen by Color, it’s the opposite of his relationship with Killer, where Cross feels like his existence is completely ignored, when he’s with Color he feels like he truly matters, like he has his own voice that’s actually listened to, not that Epic doesn’t make him feel seen too, but it’s nice to have more people make him feel seen and heard

Cross is a bit anxious that he can be a bit much sometimes, and definitely fears that Color would one day abandon him because of his recklessness or lack of situational awareness at times, it’s something that’s always on the back of his mind, constantly telling him to stop being so careless, so reckless, “great job, you made him angry” and so on, needless to say, Color would never really abandon him, and funny enough, Color himself is afraid of being abandoned, he wouldn’t wish abandonment on his worst enemies

Cross and Color mirror each other in their fear of abandonment, but while Cross fears that he’ll be abandoned by Color, Color fully believes Cross would never abandon him, cause if he knows one thing, is that Cross wouldn’t wanna be alone too

Color does see a bit of himself in Cross, Cross especially reminds him of himself right after he broke out of the void, desperate, anxious, uncertain, repressed, angry, overwhelmed, and for the longest while he never had someone to guide him or help him, so he strives to be what he needed at that moment for Cross

They absolutely love each other, and while they have both ups and downs, they wouldn’t ask for anything more than what they have with each other, they both think that they’re the lucky one to get to be family to the other <333

[sundew199]

The comfort of them

a/n: sort of a continuation of this thought, also just an excuse to write domestic/dad!zoro :)

tags: roronoa zoro x f!reader, post-canon, fluff, domestic, family dynamics, dad!zoro, family bliss, just cute stuff tbh Kōji means prosperous, peace and happiness. Kiyomi means beautiful

Gentle rustling of leaves against the wind silence the thoughts in his head, matching his slow concentrated breathing as he centers is mind, body and soul. Zoro had the rare morning off from teaching, no students causing a ruckus out in the courtyard as he attempts to refocus them to the lesson. Life had been so unnaturally slow since succeeding in his goal to become the greatest swordsman, deciding after years of adventure he was ready to settle down. And thank goodness you took him up on his offer, returning with him to Shimotsuki village so he could take over the dojo from his old master.

Over the years, the dojo earned itself a name, students from around the world clamoring to secure a spot to learn the art of the sword from the world's greatest swordsman. Despite his new title, Zoro was humble, never boasting or revealing who he was in the rarity someone didn't know. The fame wasn't what he wanted, never was, but knowing he fulfilled his lifelong goal in honor of his childhood friend made it easier to enjoy the life he was given.

The dojo wasn't the only thing that grew over the years, now instead of one Roronoa, there were few newly added additions. Shortly after taking over the dojo, Zoro asked for your hand in marriage, fulfilling another goal of his in making you his wife. He worried you would decline due to the new title bestowed upon him and the target that came with it, but you embraced it, taking on his last name and solidifying the missing piece to the other half of his heart permanently. Everything he could've ever wanted was right here, within his grasp and protection.

Peaking his one good eye open, Zoro took the stick of incense and extinguished the flame, concluding his routine meditation. The air wafting around him reminded him of his life out on sea, a familiar citrus and salty smell that kept those memories alive. He could admit that he did miss those times, the fun and the danger that came with Luffy being the captain, but he had something so much sweeter now.

Rising from the floor and grabbing his dark blue haori from the hook on the wall to drape over the plain black yukata, Zoro quietly shuffled out of the room and down the hall to check on everyone else living in the compound that connected to the dojo. Truthfully, Zoro wasn't fan of having such a large home for just him and you, but that mindset changed when a certain addition was added to the family.

Checking the room his boisterous son was supposed to be in, discovering it was empty like most mornings, Zoro let out a sigh and turned down the way he just came. Kōji was five now, born a year after he married you and took over the dojo and Jesus he was a force to reckon with at times. Koushirou constantly reminded Zoro that his son was just like him when he was that age, but Zoro didn't want to acknowledge that fact, at least not to his old teacher. Ever since Kōji turned five earlier this year, he's been begging Zoro to let him enroll in one of the classes he taught, having such an affinity for his father's swords and wanting to be just like him. You melted every time Kōji tried to find a new way to ask, but he was still a year too young to enroll and Zoro wasn't going to make an exception just for his son.

"Have you seen Kōji?" Catching one of the staff members for the dojo and asking if they've seen his son by any chance.

"Last I heard he was out by the cherry blossoms with a couple of practice swords." The man responded simply, giving a small bow to Zoro before slipping down another hall.

Zoro couldn't help but groan aloud, not that he despised the idea of his son wanting to take after him, but because he knew by the time he reached Kōji, he'd have a new bruise or scrape from trying to "practice".

Soft grunts and whistling of wood blades cutting through the air came into earshot, a strong willed figure with dark teal colored hair moving erratically like they were trying to copy someone else's movements. Zoro hung back for a moment to watch, unable to help the small smile seeing his son wield three swords exactly how he did.

Kōji lunged forward with a battlecry that was so muffled by the practice sword in his mouth, Zoro chuckled. Though the humor quickly disappeared as he watch his son trip on his feet and land face first in the grass with a whine and a small sob. Sighing rather loudly, Zoro made his way over to where Kōji now sat slumped with the three swords resting by his side and in front of him.

"Let me see."

Surprising the boy with his sudden appearance and hand on his shoulder, moving to hold under his chin to see the busted lip he earned from slipping face first with a sword in his mouth. Kōji frowned and almost scowled at Zoro trying to wipe some of the blood away, whining under his breath that he was fine and to let him get back to practice. Zoro laughed at his weak attempt of a declaration, scooping him off the ground and into his arms.

"Let me practice!"

"Not with a busted lip, your mother will kill me."

Kōji crossed his arms and pouted, glaring at Zoro while held in his arms, making his way back inside to doctor up the very noticeable split in his bottom lip. Zoro empathizes with his son and his insistence in wanting to learn and train, but he also wasn't going to bend the rules just for him. In the big picture, this served as one of the many lessons Zoro taught to his enrolled students: patience.

"Can't join the class and now you won't let me practice."

Zoro shook his head to hid the smile and chuckle at his son's irritated rambling, Koushirou may have been onto to something when comparing his younger self to Kōji.

"How about this?" Proposing to the boy as he sat him on the bench in the bathroom, watching his eyes light up with interest. "You can come with me to the afternoon classes today and watch the older students."

"Really? Okay!" Answering instantly and sitting up straighter with a smile that pulled at the wound in his bottom lip, causing a new trail of blood to run down his chin. Zoro smiled endearingly, wiped it away with his thumb and grabbed the damp warm rag to clean the split, holding the back of Kōji's neck to keep him still, knowing it would sting. He winced maybe once, trying to keep the little tears forming in the corner of his eyes from falling in front of Zoro. Something warmed his heart a little to see how much Kōji was trying to impress him when he didn't have to, his son didn't have to go to great lengths to impress him but still a little flattered that he did.

Leaving the bathroom together, Kōji took off down the hall to presumable go find you and tell you about getting the opportunity to join him for the afternoon classes, Zoro not far behind. Most days you hung out in the compound with the youngest Roronoa, his daughter who was just shy of turning six months old.

Finding you in the bedroom with the shojis open to let in the cool spring air, you smiled and opened your arms in an embrace to Kōji. The sleeves of your dark blue simple kimono that matched his haori, draped and engulfed around his son as you held him tightly to your chest to annoy him, pressing smothering kisses to the cheek that wasn't tightly pressed to your body. You had embraced the traditional clothing from Wano after coming here with him and after the discovery of Shimotsuki village's history. Even while in Wano, all those years ago, Zoro had an inkling that the name of this village and one of the clan's daimyo were connected and not just a crazy coincidence. And he was right, Koushirou revealing the history of this village and the connection it had to Wano, and even Zoro's connection to the Shimotsuki clan, and the direct line he had to Ryuma. Of course, both you and him had days where you wore regular clothing around, but most days comfort was found in the soft fabric of the kimonos and yukatas.

"Dad's going to let me come to the afternoon classes today!" Kōji excitedly exclaimed, sitting in your lap and looking so proud of himself. You were nodding absentmindedly to the statement, focused on the new injury your son had, brushing your thumb over the split in his bottom lip.

"Oh? Today?" Processing your son's words and looking up to Zoro who now cradled his daughter in his arms, pecking a couple of kisses to her forehead.

"Yea, just watching. Why?"

Deciding to join you on the floor, adjusting his hold on his daughter and faintly smiling as she further began to wake up from her nap.

"I forgot you had afternoon classes." Dividing your gaze between Kōji and your daughter Kiyomi in Zoro's arms.

"Yea, you can have a girls day or whatever with Kiyomi." Joking with a smile. Having his son with him during the class wouldn't be a big deal, the students attending today didn't need to be herded or watched like a hawk, all around thirteen-fourteen years old.

"Are you sure?"

"It's afternoon classes, baby, I can teach and watch my own son" Scooting close enough to kiss your cheek, letting out a little laugh to his own words and also to Kōji's soft sound of disgust at the display of affection between his parents.

There were still a few more hours left until the students would begin to arrive, giving Zoro some much needed uninterrupted time with his family. Kōji attempted to get Kiyomi to laugh by doing tricks that consisted of acrobatics, which had you gasping and clutching onto the sleeve of his haori. Having a son, that took after him, you were accepting the fact that he was going to get hurt and just not have as much care as you'd like, but you or Zoro were always there to comfort him when he scraped his knee or elbow, or hit his head a bit too hard.

Both of his children adored him, Kōji using him as inspiration for who he wants to be one day and Kiyomi always finding security and safety when in his arms, Zoro truly wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

After instructing his son to go change into the jumper worn by the students during class, Zoro hung out in the bedroom with Kiyomi while you changed to head out for the afternoon. She gurgled and cooed back at his whispers, smiling when Zoro would barely kiss her forehead and melting his heart. His daughter's hair was dark, but not black like either of you assumed when it started to thicken over time, Zoro swearing she had undertones of green like him and Kōji but you weren't as convinced, insisting it were closer to a brunette color more than anything. Only time would tell.

"Are you sure you're okay with having Kōji for class?"

Hearing your voice draw closer as you exited the room connected to the bedroom used to store yours and his clothing, looking up to see you dressed in loose fitting trousers and a blouse and smiling at how effortless you always looked.

"Yes baby, he'll be fine. Plus today's class isn't anything rigorous."

Standing up and balancing his daughter in one arm to wrap the other around you, bringing you in for a soft kiss. His calloused hand held the side of your face and brushed across your cheekbone, smiling at you in adoration.

"Okay." Whispering back and taking Kiyomi from him so he could grab his swords from the locked display in the bedroom. Rarely did Zoro ever find himself walking around the compound with them on his hip, proving over time to just get in the way, instead he chose to wear them to the classes he taught and when out and about. Taking all three of them and placing them on the futon, he went to fetch the holster for them and adjust the sash of yukata to hide the holster, not liking how bulky it looked.

Handling them each with care, Zoro secured his blades in order, securing wado ichimonji last. Taking Kiyomi back from you and leaving the bedroom together, neither of you bother to check if Kōji was in his room, knowing he would be patiently waiting for him out in the courtyard. And the assumption was correct, finding Kōji sitting at the top step with his hands in his lap and staring at the gate the students would come in.

"Say bye to your mom." Instructing the boy and smiling when he perked up to his feet to hug you around the legs, muttering a goodbye and accepting the kiss to the top of his head as you bent down.

Zoro stood beside his son, handing Kiyomi over to you after gently pressing a kiss to her cheek and muttering a hushed goodbye watching you leave, giving you a lingering look that read only of the three famous words constantly repeated.

"C'mon, we've got a few minutes until everyone gets here." Tipping his head back inside for Kōji to follow, leading him down to the same room he had been meditating in earlier. Zoro could tell his son was nothing but nerves and excitement, absentmindedly holding onto his fingers as they walked down the hall together. This would be the first time Kōji would be joining him for a class, having not been allowed to in the past. And not because Zoro didn't want him too, but because when he first started to show interest in swordsman ship, the students at the time required all of his attention and didn't need the distraction of his overly excited son there.

"Mom says you like to have sake before class, is that what we're doing?" Asking once in the room, a low table now placed in the center with a reasonably sized jug and a single serving cup. There was also tea, which was hardly touched by him ever, but allowed Kōji to partake in the little pre-class ritual of his without feeling left out.

"Mhm, helps me focus." Giving him a little smirk as he let go of his son's hand and sat on the opposite side of the low table. He poured the tea first for Kōji and then sake for himself. With a little nod, they downed their respective drinks, letting out similar sighs and placing the cups back down.

"Now, during class I want you to stay by me and listen. My students are here to learn and I don't want you distracting them." Letting his tone fall serious, watching his son's face do the same as he listened.

"Yes sir."

"Good, this will give you an idea of what it'll be like for you some day so make sure you're paying attention."

Kōji nodded again, only with a little smile now at the mention of him getting to join the classes his father taught. Zoro smiled softly seeing his son's smile, pouring another glass of sake and throwing it back quickly, knowing the students would be here any minute.

"Master Zoro, the students are arriving." One of the assistant teacher said, poking their head into the room. It didn't go unnoticed how their eyes widened seeing his son with him, but kept his comments to himself.

Zoro gave a nod, standing up, Kōji returned to holding tightly onto Zoro's middle and ring finger as he walked beside him, walking closer and closer to his side as they approached the courtyard once again. A few more glances at his son accompanying him were give by the staff and assistant teachers, and again none of them saying a thing on the matter.

Out in the expanse courtyard, twenty or so students around the ages of thirteen and fourteen stood in lines of fives, stiffening when Zoro walked through the open shoji door, standing in the center with a neutral expression. Kōji did his best not to cling to his father's side, standing tall and tightening his small hand around the fingers he held onto still.

"Begin with your stretches." Commanding in a sharp tone, his demeanor flipping like a switch now that he was teaching a class. Kōji stiffened at the new and unfamiliar tone used by his father, looking up at him and briefly smiling at the wink Zoro gave him, a little gesture of affection that soothed the nerves of his son.

All the students began the routine drilled into them from the very beginning of their enrollment, staying within their own space and staying mindful of the other's around them. Zoro let go of Kōji's hand to cross his arms over his chest, watching with a careful eyes to ensure there were no stupid mistakes being made with the simple instructions.

"Master Zoro, we know your wife left just a few minutes ago, would you like one of us to keep Kōji entertained?" An assistant teacher asked in a low voice, probably taking notice of the students wandering eyes and trying to firgure out who the young kid standing up by their teacher was. Zoro led a private life, people knew he had a family and was married but only ever saw you on occasion, some of the students completely unaware that their teacher had children.

"No. He's with me for the entirety of the class, and won't be an issue."

Firmly responding to the assistant teacher, who meekly bowed at the response, returning to where he stood a little behind Zoro with the second assistant teacher and watched the children out in the yard warm up their muscles before class.

Stretching concluded with the students standing tall with their hands behind their backs, waiting for further instruction. Zoro took a seat right where he was, Kōji doing the same, sitting in a criss-cross position, mirroring Zoro the best he could.

"Last class each of you were given a blade and instructed to care for it, by cleaning and polishing it for this class." Pausing as he unhooked a part of his holster and set his own three blades out in front of him. Kōji stared in amazement, never getting to see his father's blades this close before, subject to looking at them in the display. Carefully, Zoro unsheathed Sandai Kitetsu from the guard, holding it at an angle where the sun would catch the blade and bounce.

"Your blade is an extension of yourself, and must be treated as such." Straightening his arm out in front of him with Kitetsu facing horizontally towards the students. "Treating it just as a blade will never get you as far as you think, wielding it as an extension grants you a higher possibility of winning a match against an opponent."

Kōji was enraptured with his father's words, even if he couldn't quiet grasp exactly what he was saying it didn't negate the fact that Zoro was speaking with such passion and truth about the blade he now held vertical in front of him. Zoro glanced at Kōji, wide eyed and lost in the amazement, flashing him a small soft smile before speaking again.

"One by one you will present the blades to see if they match the standards that I keep mine." Proclaiming sternly, moving the other two unsheathed swords in front of him back to the side his holster was on, placing Kitetsu down in front of him. The students gave an in sync response to their teacher, grabbing their blades from the ground next to them and filing into a line to present the weapon to Zoro to inspect. The assistant teachers moved to help, until Zoro held up a hand for them to stop, wanting to conduct this all on his own, very particular on this sort of matter.

Kōji tried to sit up straighter, tried to exude the commanding presence of his father, despite being five years old. He watched the first student approach, bow at the waist and hand over the sheathed blade to his master. Zoro carefully revealed the weapon, holding it at the hilt and looking it over thoroughly.

"Good."

The one word response was give to the student, sheathing the blade again and handing it back, glancing at the next student to come forward. Kōji didn't exactly know what his dad was looking for, the first few looked shiny and clean from his point of view and wondered why Zoro spent longer than a few seconds examining it.

Student after student presented their blades, some passing the assignment, others coming close if it weren't for the few missed imperfections that were spotted. When they were spotted, Zoro would only frown and name what he saw, either it be a smudge of the smallest streak of leftover polish or dirt, and leave it at that. The student wouldn't necessarily fail, but they didn't pass either.

One of the students towards the end of line was next, proud smug expression written on his face when approaching Zoro, confidently passing over his sword. Kōji saw the way his dad's neutral expression falter to irritation for the briefest second, his curious mind wondering why it shifted for this particular student only.

Thumbing over the blades edge, turning the hilt in his hand, Zoro's frown deepened immensely, narrowing his gaze at the student.

"What is this?"

"The polished and cleaned sword Master Zoro." Increasing the effort on his end to keep the confidence present in front of his teacher.

"Who polished this?" Almost snapping at the student, causing Kōji to jump a little while watching the interaction.

"I did Mast-"

"Lie again and you'll be expelled."

Confidence completely drained from the student, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, and managing to keep his gaze centered on Zoro who scowled angrily.

"My Father."

"Why? The assignment was for you, not your father." Rising from where he sat, sheathing the sword he loaned to his student and handing it to one of the assistant teachers.

"Because he is a swordsman like you, and wanted to show me the correct way to clean and polish a sword." Words carrying a slight tremble as he spoke, trying to resist in picking at his fingers in nerves.

"Then why are you enrolled? If my methods of teaching are incorrect then there's no reason for you to be in my class." Zoro watched as the student shrunk where he stood, realizing the depth of his actions and the consequences that were sure to follow.

"yes I-"

"You're dismissed for the day." Speaking over the student's stammering in a surprisingly calm tone. For a moment, Zoro thought he would protest further, instead bowing at the waist and grabbing the last of his things and shuffling out of the courtyard. Everyone watched with wide eyes and nerves, never witnessing such a thing before. Zoro wouldn't expel the student, but lying and not even completing the task that was assigned got him sent home from the class. There was no success in letting others do the menial and somewhat pointless tasks, the path to mastering the art of swordsmanship was all up to you.

Zoro didn't waste anymore time on what had just happened, sitting back down and waving forward the next student. She was one of the few girls in the glass, introverted but picked up on things fast. Zoro tried not to play favorites with his students, wanting to remain fair in honor of his journey and the person who set him on the path in the first place, but there obviously the students who advanced more quickly than others.

"Well done." Handing the girl her blade back, glancing at the last two students. Kōji's eyes followed her as she walked to joined the others, the girl giving him a small wave out of view of her teacher and Kōji giving one back.

Now that all the student's blade have been inspected, Zoro stands, walking down the steps, looking back at his son and holding out his hand for him to take. Together, with Kōji holding onto to the two same fingers from earlier, they walked over to where the students had gathered, awaiting further instructions.

"We'll be going over footwork first and focused, precise moves." Taking Enma out of the cover, Zoro dropped Kōji's hand to give a brief demonstration of what the students would be doing. Placing one foot behind the other, bending his knees just enough, Zoro spotted his target out of the peripheral of his good eye, inhaling deeply.

Kōji and the other students watched, some never having seen the world's greatest swordsman use his blades and some anticipating the excitement of witnessing it again.

Turning on his back foot, Zoro's waist twists in the direction of the practice dummy, Haki flowing furiously down the arm that held the Enma at the hilt, swinging his arm just enough and speaking the name of the famed blade. In an instant, the top half of the dummy was cut diagonally, top half sliding down and hitting the dirt. Nothing else besides the dummy took a damage, Zoro now possessing years of control and practice with this specific sword to center his attack on only what he wanted, a feat he worked hard to achieve.

Gasps and murmurs followed the single move, students exchanging looks with one another in pure amazement, the title of their master living up to its name.

"One person explain how I was able to achieve that" Tucking Emna back into its scabbard and returning to stand in front of his students. Kōji quietly made his way to stand closer to Zoro, shuffling his feet in the dirt and looking up at him as he waited for the answer to his question.

"You centered yourself first, then chose a target to aim for." A student answered, clutching the scabbard of his own blade to his chest.

"Good. Foot placement may not always be achievable in certain situations, but it's a way to center yourself before an attack. Throwing out unfocused and sporadic attacks could land you at the other end of the blade, which is why treating your sword as an extension of yourself and centering your being will get you results and not on the wrong end of blade."

Zoro allowed himself a small smile seeing the slow nods from his students, experience mingling into his words as he spoke and feeling confident that his students were absorbing every word.

"Find a dummy and practice some of the basic moves from previous classes. Aim for precision, center your mind, body and soul."

Immediately the students broke off from each other, following instructions and unsheathing their blades from their scabbards.

Zoro took a moment to make sure everyone was where they were suppose to be, before turning his attention to Kōji. He was awestruck still, blankly staring out where the students were and leaning into Zoro.

"Having fun?" Asking with a chuckle when his son's head popped up, a smile breaking out on his face.

"That was so cool! How did you do that? Can all of your swords do that? Will you teach me-"

"Slow down," Laughing under his breath at the influx of questions pouring from his son, the amazement and pure excitement swelling the organ in Zoro's chest. The excitement from his students just didn't feel the same as his son's excitement, the admiration Kōji held for him was so dear and special.

"All of my swords are different and used for different moves and attacks. And someday, when you're old enough, I'lll teach you, with your own."

Kōji let out a lengthy gasp, stars forming in his eyes. This was the first time his dad had ever given him an answer to his constant request for him to teach him. Zoro palmed the top of his head, brushing back some of his hair and continuing to give Kōji the promising smile.

The remainder of the class, Zoro corrected students who needed it and indulged in his son's occasional questions. He could picture doing this with Kōji, and was kind of excited to pass down his passion to his son, completely different than passing it down to students.

By the time the last student had left with their parent, Zoro could see you approaching with Kiyomi and a few additional items. Kōji was already inside getting washed up for dinner by the time you got back.

Before you could even ask how the day had gone, Zoro was taking his daughter from you and ushering you inside, to discuss about the excitement that took place while you were out. Kiyomi smiled wide now that she was carried by Zoro, gurgling as if she were saying actual words back to him as he made similar hushed noises in return.

Within the bedroom, Zoro kept Kiyomi occupied as you changed and put everything away.

“How was he?”

Hearing you ask, sauntering out of the closet in one of your more simpler kimonos, reaching for Kiyomi as if you hadn’t been with her all day. Zoro sighed, like he were defeated at his daughter being “stolen” from him, but laughed under his breath at how enamored Kiyomi was at the moment.

“He’ll be counting down the days till his birthday, the day he’ll want to enroll.”

You hummed, holding out your free hand for him to take so the two of you could grab Kōji from his room and head down for dinner.

“And I’m assuming you’ll let him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? He was so excited to just sit in on the class, a kid in a candy store sweetheart.” Shrugging as if he weren't just as excited at teaching his son the passion that's had him in a chokehold since he was Kōji's age.

The cooks had things set up in the small dining area of the compound, where the four of you would eat every night. But the setting sun and the cherry blossoms swaying in the wind made it all the more enticing to eat out in the garden. Giving a quick request to have everything moved to enjoy the nice evening, Zoro felt content run warm through his body. All those years out at sea, pondering what would become of his life after he achieved his goal now seemed so, minuscule. Look where he was now, Master of his dojo and holding the title of "greatest swordsman" and married to the woman he would stay up late at night admiring, hoping the feelings he held for you would always be reciprocated.

"I finally got to see dad use his swords in class and, and, it was so cool!"

Kōji excited exclaimed while sitting on the blanket across from you and Zoro, holding and onigiri in one of his small hands, looking at both you and Zoro with the widest eye either of you have ever seen.

"Which sword was it?" Indulging your son, adjusting your daughter on your lap as she playing with some of the food within reach.

"Um, it was...oh! Enma, right dad?" Sounding kind of confident but then second guessing himself and looking to Zoro for confirmation.

"Mhm, my most famed blade, received that one in Wano, as a gift sort of."

Kōji somehow looked even more entranced, like what Zoro was saying were that of legend and fairytale, but to be fair, Enma was a legendary blade by all standards. You leaned more into his shoulder after giving Kōji an answer, nostalgia and reminiscing coming off of you in waves at the mention of where and how he received that particular sword.

"One day, I'll be just like you dad, or better." Kōji now stood, shoving the onigiri into his mouth and reaching for a rice ball now, smiling proudly with a full mouth, making Zoro swell with pride and maybe something even greater than pride.

"We'll see, you haven't even been enrolled into classes yet." Leaning back on his palm, welcoming Kiyomi, who had now crawled from your lap to his, bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her soft hair.

"I'm going to practice."

Breaking off from the small blanketed area to go grab his practice swords, almost tripping over his feet but catching himself before managing a repeat from earlier. Zoro could hear you sigh sweetly, feeling your body come to press against his, running a hand through the longer hair towards the back of his neck.

"God I can only imagine what you were like his age."

All Zoro could do was hum humorously, lean over and kiss the top of your head, as if he were agreeing with the statement and thoughts you hadn't voiced yet.

"Much worse baby."

Now you laughed heartily, smacking his arm and moving to lay your cheek on his chest, placing a hand on Kiyomi's back and focusing your attention to the horizon where the sun teased to dip behind. Zoro sighed again, contently, looking in the same direction you were. All his life he was zeroed in on one goal, a goal that led him to now, which he came to realize much later in his journey this is all he could've wanted. the title bestowed upon him was nice, Zoro would admit, but all those nights on the sunny where you and him were curled up in the small cabin, where he worried if once he achieved his goal and helped Luffy achieve his you would still want to be with him. The thrill part of it all is what Zoro swore is what held your love for him together, but god was he relieved to be wrong for once.

"I'm going to try to do what dad did earlier, watch." Kōji declared, now having returned to the garden with three swords, carefully placing the two he didn't need at the moment to the side, trying to mirror the stance Zoro had earlier during class.

As Zoro watched the wooden blade cut through the air with a whistle and a small excited squeal from his son, he looked down at his daughter and then to you and thanked the universe and every god out there that this was his reward for the end of his adventure, the comfort after a long journey of achieving his goals and honoring a close friends. There was nothing more he could've asked for, and Zoro wouldn't dare ask for anything else unless it was more of this.