#Hands became the bane of my existence for some reason

[snowlyx]

Almost the Triple S Trio

team Dark is now complete. I included Silver, now it’s the two “fakers”.

Silver’s weed head gave me issues but I think I got the hang of it.

Shadow’s rocket shoes also gave me issues, so did his hair spines. I gave him gloves more akin to his Boom counterpart because they kinda look cool, but also because lore surrounding my au. He has markings that are hidden, they came from his alien daddy.

I gave Silver this shawl thing. I tried to give him an innocent pose.

[belokhvostikova]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | After five months of no reconciliation with the man whose lifestyle became too much for you to manage, you're met with your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar, after an accident leaves you in the hospital, and you face the realization that Eddie Munson is still your emergency contact.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, crying, mentions of alcohol consumption, hard drug use, insecurities, minor jealousy, fighting, breakup, brief mention of infidelity (no cheating, though), hospital setting, head injury, concussion, mentions of stitches, mentions of blood, and mentions of seizures.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Y'all, I'm 19! So, as a gift to you (whatever logic that is) here's a fic that takes place around Christmas, so I guess, also a belated Christmas gift. Happy birthday and Merry Christmas! Also, the extent of my knowledge on injuries is purely based on the fact that I took both Health Science I and II in high school, and, well, that's it. So, if anything is inaccurate, NO IT'S NOT (because I said so).

“Will you-” so vividly, you heard his boisterous laughter dense the air sweetly, his face glowing with the ever peaking sunlight that glimmered the sparkling snow outside each time you peered up to his extended height. “It’s like you’re trying to make me fall!” His dramatic accusations were merely met with your fits of giggles, something he so gladly wished to always be met with, as the graze of your cold fingers buzzed his skin with the excitement of what used to be your touch. “Seriously, baby, I can’t finish this if you’re attacking me.” 

But you made no effort to stop, continuing your precise placement of delicate ornaments upon the belt loops of his jeans, the links of his chain, the pockets of his backside, perhaps even one snuggly secured in the threaded rips of his pants. With your boyfriend at your mercy—stuck a couple feet higher atop the fifth step of the ladder to fulfill your dreams of draping green garland to surround your high rise windows—you couldn’t help the ebullient urge to decorate him as you pleased, bringing some loving festivities to the black denim ensemble he regularly sported. 

Effervescent balls of sparkling reds and yellows accompanied the hanging bandana of his back pocket. “You’re like my very own personal Christmas tree!” You beamed upwards, watching a smile that was personal to himself, as he lavished in the innocence this holiday expelled from you. “C’mon,” a fatuous whine that had him chuckling with strings of fake green leaving his hand to secure around the window frame, “have a little spirit!”

And perhaps, that’s all you were trying to have now: spirit.

Because in the blink of an eye, the purity of crystalline, white snow had turned into sludges of watery dirt to meet the once twinkling hues to stringing lights that now simply became the bane of your existence. Because to you, everything embellished itself as a mockery to the happily ever after you now no longer had. 

But it never hurt to try, and yet, trying became the very literal thing that hurt you. 

“…What occurred in the midst of their fourth track, Corroded Coffin’s notable ‘Goliath’s Wrath,’ left fans in a frenzy, when frontma…” Your eyes blurred with exhaustion, attempting to fight back the heaviness of your eyelids that left your vision impaired by spotty shades of blacks and whites. Various pitches of ringing clashing with static voices began provoking that throbbing ache in your head that pounded your brain to mush. “…Information falls scarcely upon accuracy, though there were mentions of a family emergency as to the reaso…” One harsh breath for your dense chest left your nose to be invaded by the artificial, bitterness of antiseptic. All more of a reason for your eyes to screw shut in a brutal endeavor to appease the gnawing of your head. “…Demanding refunds for a set that had to go on without the leading m-”

“You’re up!” Your eyes shot open. His aging skin told stories of his life, crinkling into an abundance of creases that welcomed your startled awakening. “I know things may seem a little scary and confusing here, kid.” Heaving became an understatement when your eyes accepted the burning tiles of white around the room, and suddenly, whatever news outlet that was recounting the upheaval of 90s Hollywood from the tiny television that served its purpose of passing time was becoming drowned out by the abrasive beeping of monitors that clung to your body with tubes. “But just bare with me, alright, everything’s going to be okay.”

Okay? Your body felt cold under the roughness of hospital linen. “I-I…” A reckless try at sitting up left your mouth soaring with an agonizing groan from the pain, your sore body all too weak for the heavy lifting at your head, that suddenly felt the density of a dozen bricks that smashed together. 

“Take it easy, alright.” The older gentleman smiled, urging you to lay back against the flat pillow with his simple gestures. “I know things are a little hazy here, but my name is Dr. Rosenthal, would you be able to tell me yours?” Your brows scowled at the disparaging child-talk the man thirty years your senior was showcasing you. 

With a roll to your eyes—something instantly regretted because of the pain in your head—you dryly croaked. “Y-Y/N.” It was all too bright. God, what would it give to flip off the overhead lights? You never really were a fan of overhead lights, but his excuse of, “we have money now, these lights can stay on,” had a knack for making you giggle. It’d been five months since those overhead lights were ever turned on again. You wondered how often Ed-

“That’s great!” Dr. Rosenthal smiled, and you accepted the scraping scribble of his pen against his papered clipboard to satiate the buzz of your brain. “Tell me, Y/N can you remember anything about how you may have gotten here? Any recollections you may-”

“Where is- is she here?!” You fought the throb of your head to snap into the direction of the door, where Dr. Rosenthal mimicked your concern. In truth, the smell hadn’t been all too great; beads of perspiration coated his body in part with the concoction of spiced cologne and the bitter bourbon he regularly downed before coming face-to-face with thousands in a packed arena. “Y/N- she’s- what, what happe- oh, shit!” Cindy Jaurick had been a renowned makeup artist in Hollywood, but with the dryness of his skin, even she couldn’t conceal the bruising of his sleep-deprived eyes; splotches of alabaster cream became patchy upon his bags that smeared with the waxiness of black liner. 

Eddie Munson, all leather and chains that clashed with his truest self of denims and tees. A facade so greatly curated by the hands of top executives that in a span of three years, millions were acquired to his name. Such a stupid name, you now thought. 

A heavy step forward left his booted foot clanking against the white tiles, a movement too abrasive for your liking, as his incoming hand has you pushing back from his reaching touch. “Excuse me, sir, you need to step back and calm down.” Dr. Rosenthal proclaimed, a man of loyalty to his position, clearly perturbed by any bothersome that came to his patients. 

“I just- what the hell happened, are you okay?!” His jewelry—the real kind, far from the fake silver he once adorned that periodically fused his fingers green, but loved them more than anything—jingled to the admission of his distress, hands harshly raking through the chunks of sweaty hair over the sight of your damaged self. 

An audible clap came with the hit of Dr. Rosenthal’s clipboard to Eddie’s exposed chest, where the buttons of his designer brand had been deliberate to showcase the permanent markings of his tattooed skin. “Sir, unless you are a relative or partner of-”

“Yes! Yes, I’m her boyfriend-”

Your memory hadn’t served you right for the occasions that brought you to the hospital, but you knew enough that Eddie Munson no longer brandished the title of such, given the circumstances that occurred five months ago. “N-No, he’s, um, not… anymore.”

“Then, sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave-”

“No, I- do you even know who I am?” Eddie watched your face scrunch with disgust at his language to the doctor, but whatever damage control he attempted fell short on your solidified opinion of a distasteful eye roll against him. “Shit, no- like, I mean you called me. I-I’m her emergency contact! I swear it, I’m Eddie!” 

And you slumped back against your bed. Clear as day, you remembered the cursive handwriting that marked the page with the name and number of your ex-boyfriend. When a year ago, months apart finally came to a halt as Eddie’s touring schedule cleared for the coming holidays. It would suffice to say the bedroom of your quaint Indianapolis townhouse saw little abandonment, with silk sheets becoming imprinted with the weight of your bodies that refused to leave the warmth of each other’s depraved company. In doing so, your judgment became clouded from the usual routine of bathroom care that came after a heated rendezvous. But could you be blamed? Believe it or not, there actually was a time when Eddie’s embrace brought you comfort and peace. What eventually transpired into a run-of-mill UTI had actually worsened quicker than expected. Over-the-counter medication did little to relieve you from the infection, and when your back suddenly began to ache, you knew a trip to St. George's Hospital was in need. With a close call, your kidneys were able to stay intact to your body, and the use of dialysis was spared from your future. And yet, who knew the most haunting occasion of that experience would come with the boyish smile of Eddie Munson, as he watched with lovesick eyes as you entrusted him as the man you’d want in the case of an emergency.

My god, how times have changed… 

“Um, yeah, yeah, he is.” You swallowed the dryness of your throat, hoping the commotion of everything would finally settle to alleviate the stress of your head. 

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s up to you if you’d like him here.” Dr. Rosenthal sighed, a harsh click to his pen that surely cemented his dislike for the gaudy man upon him. “Your neighbor has already left, but I can assure you that the nurses will make frequent routines to keep you in care.”

Neighbor? “I- um, Trevor?” Your head spun with the lack thereof details that painfully tried to piece themselves together. 

Eddie's hair flew with the snap of his head to your doctor, as his scowl silently demanded the explanation you both were desperate to hear. Dr. Rosenthal cleared his throat. “Ms. Y/L/N, you took quite the fall off a ladder in your home. After a while, your neighbor had found you, and did the deed of bringing you over. He mentioned you had borrowed his ladder to put up-”

“Christmas decorations.” What a wonderful feeling it was to have the epiphany that was as simple as regained memory. Where you no longer had a boyfriend to gladly bear the brunt work of Christmas decorations for your sole enjoyment, you now had to dish out yourself. Unloading dusty boxes had usually accompanied a teasing compliment to the muscles that bulged from his arms, though now, your back felt the strain of heavy lifting, because you refused to properly use your legs. “Um, y-yeah, I remember- well, I don’t remember falling, but, uh, I used Trevor’s ladder for the, um, y’know, what do you call them? The green, leaf stringy-”

“Garlands?” Dr. Rosenthal and Eddie spoke simultaneously.

And you perked up as best as your body would allow. “Yeah, garlands!” Your voice excitedly croaked. “You, uh, y-you remember?” For once, in five months, you actually acknowledged him. Eddie. “I-I like those garlands around our- my windows.”

He remembered. Your giggles ringing in his ears like magical sleigh bells. Your touch warming his skin against the burning cold. Your eyes twinkling over the simplicity of green garlands… something he couldn’t even provide you with now.

“That’s good.” Dr. Rosenthal smiled. “You’re recalling events and… history,” he pursed his lips against Eddie’s cold demeanor, “wonderfully. It’s a good sign of minimal memory loss, which falls quite commonly against those in situations as yours. When you fell, Ms. Y/L/N, your neighbor had informed us of a seizure-”

“Seizure?!” Eddie spat.

“Yes, seizure; fifteen seconds.” He clarified. “And with that, an immediate grade II concussion. We ran a necessary EEG and CT scan prior to your waking, as such classification can offer some findings. Fortunately, all we saw was the inevitable stretching of your neurons which caused a burst of electrical impulses in your brain explaining the seizure. Checking for any fracturing of the skull, or swelling, and bleeding, and you were quite lucky. Completely cleared.” His smile broke through his wrinkled face. “Though, you were brought in with quite the gash on the left side of your head, right between the parietal and occipital bone. Nothing too extreme on the severity scale, but in order to stop the bleeding we did have to repair the tissue damage with stitching.” A vapid explanation of the overly tight gauze that somehow felt like a ton of bricks around your cranium. “But other than that, your vitals are excellent.” Check, check, check off his clipboard. “It’s very likely you’ll continue experiencing a headache, perhaps some nausea, or dizziness. I do recommend an overnight stay to ensure secondary swelling doesn’t occur, and to guarantee your memory continues to function properly. But a morning discharge should be fine.”

A deep breath allowed your head to nod along. “Yeah, um, thank you… really.” You earnestly smiled.

But where you could muster a staid beam of politeness, Eddie Munson gleamed a smile so faux, even Dr. Rosenthal piqued him with a scowl—though miniscule for his professional aptitude. The heavy click of the door closing behind Dr. Rosenthal granted the heaviest breath to escape from Eddie before his attention scrutinized you. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’?!” He ambushed. Seriously, he knew you for seven years. Seven years of his fucking life, and not once had you ever dared to lift a finger for manual labor. Okay, call him old fashioned, but that’s exactly what he liked about you; you know, the whole damsel in distress that needed him whenever something fell loose or broken. That’s it, just the need for him. The need to want him around. “I-I mean, seriously, you- why couldn’t you just call me- or, or, like, Steve, or someone, so you wouldn’t get hurt?” Okay, so maybe calling him wouldn’t have been your first option. If the fact of being no contact for five months wasn’t enough, surely living across the country would have ruled him out. You stopped keeping up with his whereabouts weeks ago. But that wouldn’t stop him. It was you, for Christ sake! You wanted your garlands, Eddie would have given you your garlands. No matter the lack of communication. No matter the distance.

Eddie Munson would have given you everything. 

You dryly blinked. Twice. If only he felt like that when you both were still together. “Get out.” 

“Okay, no- wait, I’m not trying to blame you-”

“Really? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Get out!” Your tired voice tried to muster. 

“No, sweetheart, c’mon, I-I know- I just worded it wrong, okay? Please, I just- I don’t know why you would try to do something that would get you hurt like that. You could have, I don’t know, asked for help, like called me up, I promise I would have answered to help you-”

Your eyes rolled against his sentiment. “What, so I’m just too dimwitted to use a couple of tools?!”

“Well, you did fall.” By your stare, Eddie Munson had two seconds to live. “N-No, I didn’t say that- I, look, I just wish you would have called or someth-”

“And I wish you would just get out!” But your rash endeavor to sit up and shove him away legitimized the pitiless reality of your gnawing head hazing your vision and dismantling your balance, forcing Eddie to rush to your assistance. 

“I- okay, I’ll shut up, just lay back, relax, please, sweetheart. I don’t want you hurting yourself more.” 

“I’m fine.” You gritted. 

“There’s a chunk of your head missing.” Eddie retaliated with a deadpan so infuriating mocking.

A huff of disbelief rippled from your dry lips. “Dr. Rosenthal just said it was no big deal.”

“Like I care what that old fuck has to say.” Your scolding eyes ripped him a new one. “Okay, geez, didn’t know you two were such close friends.”

With no energy to fight back, you permitted his touch to push you back against stiff pillows, where his ink-engraved hands worked swiftly to cover your frail body from the harsh chills of the hospital air conditioning. “I’ll be quiet, promise.” He whispered, adhering to his words, as he silently watched you close your eyes away from him, now that his presence has garnered a throbbing headache. 

By the seventh beep, you no longer found interest in counting the indications of your working monitors. But where your mind lost the simple activity, you also gained attention to the whirring voices of the television. Sat by your side on the hardened chair, Eddie’s tapping toes forced your eyes to tear back-in-forth from his stance to the static colors of live footage coverage. 

“Man, all I hope is for a refund!” Drunk out of his mind, as the lights of cameras began emphasizing the drugged redness of the young man’s eyes. “Like, seriously, we’re all here for The Freak, and for him to just run off like that, dude, we paid for a Corroded Coffin show, and we’re gonna get it, or else we want our money back!”

A pan to the well-dressed reporter stocked drastically to the metalheads on scene. “Well, you heard it here first, folks. As we wait for more updates on the events that occurred that left Eddie Munson running off stage to what would have been his biggest performance in his home state, fans are pressuring for a refu-”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere right now?” Eddie's head pulled itself from his intense stare that followed the grout of the tiled floors. 

“Huh?” His gaze followed yours which briefly led to the boxed television that delivered MTV’s insistent need to showcase a replay of Eddie “The Freak” Munson, lead guitarist and singer of Corroded Coffin, running off stage in the midst of their newest single, ‘Goliath’s Wrath.’ “Oh, um,” his hand waved you off, “my team will rip me a new one later, it’s fine.” 

You sighed. “And just for the record, I am self aware, so I did have someone there to help me.” You muttered, leaving his brows to furrow. “Trevor?” 

“Oh.” Eddie’s lips maneuvered awkwardly. “Trevor, right.” Knee bouncing, fingers tapping, Eddie knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but the question burned his mind for too long not to suddenly blurt out. “So what, are you seeing him or something?” And perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut, given the death glare you killed him with that had him reeling back his words. “I- sorry.” 

“Trevor has a girlfriend. And a ladder.” You scoffed. “And you of all people cannot be talking.”

Three weeks post the headlines that announced the separation between rockstar, Eddie Munson, and his longtime girlfriend, new reports were eager to air Hollywood’s newest romance between the amoral and Playboy’s finest, Lindsey Sawyer. To say you cried for weeks was quite the understatement, when your body physically impaired you from leaving the shielding comfort of your bed. While you rotted, Eddie danced on the grave of your love with his new girlfriend, whose six inch stilettos pierced your bludgeoned heart. Granted, it lasted nothing but a couple days, though it didn’t stop from the new pattern of recurrence in which Eddie found Hollywood’s new recycled “it” girl to accompany the image of a rager rockstar. Gisele Camarella, Pam Densely, Yvonne Huntsford; a new name, face, and body to compare yourself to. 

“I-” his shame flooded his cheeks crimsen, “those were never real- not, like- not like you, not you and me real. Just what management thought looked best.” Though, his quiet admission did nothing to soothe over painful memories. “I’m sorry.” Three scrapes of wooden legs scratching against white tiles was all it took to have Eddie Munson sitting by your side. “How do you feel?” His eyes fervently raked your face. “Honestly.”

“My head hurts.”

“About seeing me?” He clarified. 

Silence crept up in a suffocating manner, as Eddie watched your stoic lines revise his being. “I don’t like seeing your face anymore, Eddie.” How were you able to speak those words so calmly? Eddie’s throat choked him with unbearable bitterness that burned his insides. “You look stupid. You used to never look stupid.” 

Eddie Munson had a haunting past of failures; D’s and F’s marked such a bloody red over white papers, tainting any scribble of hard work he, at least, attempted at times. And what followed failed tests and quizzes only came with the taunting laughter of jocks and cheerleaders, jeering their distaste for his “kind” that branded his leather and denim as the epitome of all things they deemed nauseating. For a while, Eddie Munson believed himself to be nothing but stupid. The grades and reputation being all the evidence needed to solidify his self worth to him. Every compliment to your intelligence he gave you knew came with an underlying insecurity within him. Because you were smart, so smart. What was a smart girl like you doing with a stupid guy like him? 

So, yeah, your words hurt. As they intended to. 

Eddie’s eyes dropped with shame, his Adam’s apple following suit with a thick bobbing gulp of guilt. His eyes casted upon his tight leather jeans that felt insufferable under a building layer of sweat; too much eyeliner, at times clouding his vision from the very fans he loved seeing; sheer shirts waving in a draft of uncomfortableness, forcing him to long for prized t-shirts that gave him the movement to be him on stage; and a god awful personality detailed so preciously by management to make his name a headliner’s favorite. 

Yeah, Eddie Munson looked so fucking stupid. 

“I-I don’t like ‘em.” He stammered. 

“You used to.” 

-

July once brought Los Angeles, California a blistering heat. You hate heat.

Five months ago. 

“No, no, no, he’s full of shit, I was the one who came up with ‘Goliath’s Wrath!’” The cigar browning of Gareth Emerson’s scotch dribbled his lips wet with his drunken blubber, as men surrounding—all big money and titles alike—huffed out laughter worth millions to the men that provided them such wealth. 

Eddie’s nose burned with the ecstasy of white powder, dusting his beautiful features with the hedonism of all glory and power… for once, right in his hands. “Oh, fuck off, you were passed out drunk laying in your own piss when we wrote that god awful fucking song!” He laughed, joining in on the obnoxious cacophony of guffaws that held no sense of reality. 

A shoulder knocked into his. Greased slicked hair, gold rings, and a suit worth your car payment; Iverson Green. And Eddie had no fucking clue what he did. “You really don’t like the upcoming song?” He whispered.

And Eddie would never know. Information as such mattered little, as long as the man helped pay his check. “These braindeads approve of all this rock shit for the image.” Eddie bit back. “If I had it my way, I’d show ‘em real metal.” He smiled. 

A blood red stiletto acrylic stabbed at his shoulder before a cloud of Chanel °5 invaded his itching nose. “Got you booked.” She spoke, her breath tickling his ear over the sheer closeness needed over the vibrating base of stereos. 

Eddie turned his head to see her, a smiling Judy Carawan that had him beaming right back. “For what this time? I’m not doing some late night news bullshit again.” After the way Larry Parsons of Hollywood’s Friday Nights called out his delinquent behavior, executives were buzzing for another clash between Eddie “The Freak” Munson and talk show hosts to get the papers running. 

“Hilfiger.” Judy leaned in, a smirk of confidence for her work truly accomplished. “A fitting, then you wear one of his suits to the VMA’s, and that’s cash in your pockets. And mine.” 

Eddie’s face glowered with disgust, as he attempted to move away, her smell becoming too strong for his liking. “Save me a line.” He instructed to the man breaking rows of snow on the mahogany table. “Fuck no, I’m not wearing some posh-y model shit in front of the fucking cameras.”

“It’ll be one time, and a check worth a lifetime.” She rolled her eyes, a habitual stance against the troubles that came with personally assisting Eddie Munson. “Also, see.” Her slender finger pointed to the lengthy body of Cierra Kalahi, perched against the marbling chimney of your Hollywood Hills home. “Miss America’s Next Top Model will be wearing Hilfiger, too. You and some Shalom Harlow wannabe wearing the same designer is just enough to spark some attraction to your name.”

Eddie knew the venomous implications of her suggestion. “I’m not playin’ into your bullshit dating rumors.” A vicious cycle you two had to go through; you hurting more than the other, though. 

“Okay, fine, then we get your pretty, little girlfriend to wear a matching dress… that is if she’ll stop being a bummer.” 

“Don’t fucking do that, alright?” Eddie huffed, dragging his sweaty hands down the heat of his cheeks. His eyes felt like they were going to crack out of his skull from the dryness of being opened for the past forty-three hours. But the umpteenth swig of Old Fashioned was fueling him alongside the unstoppable fuel of crystalline cocaine. “She just- I- look, I’m not putting her out there where she doesn’t want to go. S-She’s too good- she’s too good for the cameras.” 

“She’s not good for your career.” Eddie felt her words echo into a repeated ringtone that irritated his ears. His vision grew blurred with his impulsive movements against her face. 

His hot, alcoholic breath fanned her bangs with each huff of his chest. “Remember who pays your fucking bills!” Nothing but the voices of Mötley Crüe tormented the background, as everyone but the music quieted to bask in the events of another Eddie Munson meltdown. “You say one more fucking word about her, and I’ll leave you to the fucking street.”

Judy Carawan cinched her eyes against his lost ones. Whatever bad boy facade he drugged himself into every night never scared her. Hell, she fed into it. “Eddie, I’m going to be quite frank with you, since no one else will be. You and your goody girlfriend will never last. If she truly cared for you like she says she does, she would do anything to keep your name in the spotlight. And if you truly cared for her like you say you do, you wouldn’t be snorting snow on your fucking anniversary.” Eddie's hardened muscles fell from realization. And Judy smiled such a sick smile. “And FYI, I was someone before you.” Eight years of work with Hollywood’s hottest clientele. “Can you say the same?”

Your lip wobbled under the harsh bite of your teeth to suppress the stinging tears from an embarrassing downpour. Despite his promises of a private evening, you braced your arms over your chest, where it became exposed from the strapless dress you uncomfortably endured, after too many magazine headlines criticized your lack of “looks” for the hottest rockstar in town. You’d never admit it, always brushing him off whenever he became concerned for your well being because of the tabloids, but he always noticed the subtle changes you made to look like the women in the city that felt like another plant from olde Indiana. 

And now, unwarranted flashes of cameras settled outside the Michelin Star restaurant that burrowed burdening humiliation into your skin, as a cautious peer around the setting allowed you to notice the pitying and gossip of the goers around you. 

Every minute that passed, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. But an hour and fifteen minutes just prevailed you to be a doormat. But could you be blamed? Seven years ago today, you ran into the man, himself, who turned the dreaded day of Hawkin’s High open house into a new adventure. Where you had the excuse of an actively involved mother, who became adamant on touring the unknown environment of the orange and green halls after your father’s relocation to the rural town, Eddie had an intransigent uncle who refused to watch his nephew lose another year of his life to failing high school, and imposed the young man to abide by the staff’s fake smiles, as they greeted parents and students for the coming school year. 

It’s funny how one sullen face can find another in a crowd of PTA parents and their goody-two-shoe children alike. Meeting eyes and a devilish smirk on his face was all it took for two strangers to find trust in one another, and sneak away in the depths of bushy, green woods. In retrospect, asking Eddie Munson to be your boyfriend after only three hours of knowing him was quite rash—he, himself, was quite taken aback, as well—but the worst that could happen was it didn’t work out. I mean, what high school relationship ever does? But his informative trek across lush grass, a shared cigarette, and talks that had your stomach cramping from fits of giggles was enough to solidify your decision at heart. And who was Eddie Munson to ever say no to a pretty face and soul like yours. 

And it worked out… surprisingly. 

It was quite the experience learning the ins and outs of someone you already called your boyfriend, but the pureness of it all bloomed into the most innocent love of two people navigating the world and finding themselves together. 

But suddenly, the world had a place in your relationship. The people had a say. In what you wore, what you looked like, who you had to be. And he allowed it. Allowed everyone to measle their way in. After the first promise to you that nothing would change, every single one to follow became a lie. 

Because he changed. 

You mustered the will to sniffle away any tears. He no longer became worth it to you. And it broke your heart. Your heels clicked their way out of the restaurant, where your being was blurred under the paralyzing flashes of people who invaded your life, capturing and exploiting your lowest moment for a check, and branding you the girl that held the greatest rockstar back.

Eddie stumbled back on wobbly feet, his mind too disorientated to care about the bodies he shoved that consequently left glasses of cocktails to shatter against the polished flooring of his home. Though, nothing mattered as long as he got to the door. But your crying self had beat him to it from the other side, swinging the grand doors that were always too heavy for your liking, and entering your home that was invaded by strangers and their substances, and Eddie… your Eddie standing in the middle of it all. 

His red, beclouded eyes had disallowed him the privilege of blinking your beauty straight, but through the haze of blear lines, he saw your face so clearly fall from disappointment.

From pure defeat. 

“W-Wait!” Eddie fought the incoordination of his legs to follow you outside, leaving his guest to watch in awe. “Baby, I- fuck! I-I’m sorry- ugh, I just- I forgot!”

Los Angeles’ humidity suffocated his airways that were already constricting from his sobbing chokes. His insides burned from the concoction of drugs and sweltering heat that only fueled at the sight of your broken face. “You forgot?!” You cried, swinging your body around to face the man you no longer recognized. “For the past seven years you’ve never forgotten, but now you do! What, is it no longer important for you?!”

Spit blubbered with his words, as his lips moved a mile a minute to keep your love preserved. “N-No, I mean- yes, of course, it’s i-important-” 

“Then why weren’t you there?!” Mascara stained the softness of your cheeks, now too darkened for Eddie to ever kiss the pain away. “Why aren’t you ever there?! For me!”

“I-It wasn’t my fault.” He heaved. “J-Jude, she-she said this s-stupid thing was scheduled, and-and she said it’d be quick-”

“Of course, it’s never your fault!” You bit back with the deflation of your arms. “It’s always the alcohol, or the drugs, or Judy, but it can never be your fault, can it, Eddie?!” His fist balled into his eyes, as snot caved down his nose. 

“N-No, it is my fault! I’m sorry, Y/N- I’ll fix it! I’ll do anything, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!”

“Don’t you get it?!” You marched up to his wrecked body. “Your promises mean nothing to me anymore!”

“Don’t, please!” Eddie sobbed. Shameful embarrassment ate him alive in the middle of your Hollywood Hills driveway. “I-I’ll stop all this, th-the drugs,” his arm smeared away the remnants of snot and cocaine against his nose, “the drinking, partying, everything, I mean it!” Because something deep within Eddie Munson knew this was the last straw.

You were done.

“Stop lying to me!” Your eyes stung with tears. “Why are you so comfortable lying to me, and h-hurting me?!” His head adamantly refused your words with a harsh shake to his head, but the history of abandonment that brought you to your wits end weighed more than his inebriated actions. “You touch me and it feels like a lie. You k-kiss me and it feels like a lie. E-Everything you do has become bullshit, Eddie! I don’t trust you. I-I just worry. Worried that anytime you’re not next to me you’ve drugged yourself dead, or-or knocked out somewhere, or… with women-”

“Don’t fucking say that! I’d never do something like that to you!”

“The Eddie I knew would never leave me to snort coke with strangers, but here we are!” You bawled in retaliation, forcing his mouth quiet in disbelief. “You’re not Eddie anymore! So, don’t stand here and tell me you wouldn’t do these things, when everything you do leads me to believe you are capable of doing something like that… something to hurt me! Because you do, Eddie! You hurt me.”

“I’m so fucking sorry! Please, Y/N, baby, I fucking love you, everything’s just been too much, a-and I forget things, I’ll be better!” You scoffed at his utter patheticism that grossed you out, turning your heel, but his large hand caught a tightening grip to your wrist. “No, I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ll change! I-I’m still Eddie!”

“Get off.” You quietly pleaded, exhausted from the sobs that wrecked your body. 

“Y-You can’t leave me, Y/N, no, I-I need you.” He choked. “I love you. So much. With everything in me. Please. We don’t do this to each other!”

“Then why do you keep doing this to me?!”

“Darling, Ms. Y/L/N?” Yours and Eddie’s head parted to the soft voice of Debby Weiser. Nearly a year ago, your elderly neighbor—who came into stardom in the 50s for her acts that revolutionized the spreading use of colored television—welcomed you into the gated neighborhood with a gluten-free muffin basket that had tasted like pure shit. But the kindness of her effort garnered a budding friendship with the mature woman who offered her wisdom on enduring Hollywood’s notoriety. “You alright there, sweetie?” Her southern accent never had assimilated to the Valley. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You turned to his eyes, staring down the saddened roundness that no longer held the precious life they once used to. “I was just leaving.”

That night, you left to your shared Indianapolis townhouse that became your starter home when Eddie’s career was first taking off. You were so happy then. 

And he hadn’t seen you since. 

Until now.

-

Eddie Munson had fallen quiet. 

Everything had, in fact.

The constant beeping of your medical instruments drove him to madness, but he figured the insanity was substantial punishment for the hurt he caused you. He’d been suffering for five months already, what’s a couple more minutes? If anything, he’d be suffering for the rest of his life should it continue without you. 

But it didn’t have to. 

Eddie knew he had no right to gain your love once more, and the vulnerability of your state worsened the situation tenfold, but there was a reason Eddie received that call. A reason why his heart sank amidst a phone call that identified your beautiful name in an emergency, that left him dropping everything in front of thousands that cheered his name. Whatever cynicism that tainted his heart had long left upon your sweet arrival; a ‘thank you’ filled with such gratitude towards his uncle, when Eddie busted into the trailer with a smile too large to be because of Hawkins High’s yearly open house. Wayne Munson had never asked, mostly due to the fact that his nephew locked himself in his bedroom, where the nineteen-year-old worked endlessly for his new upcoming Dungeons and Dragons campaign that followed the grounds of fate and destiny. 

In the mere three hours of your presence, you gave Eddie Munson hope.

He’d be damned not to devote his eternal life to you. 

“Y/N, I…” his eyes laid low, examining the threads of linen that covered you, as his fingers twiddled with his rings to appease the constant bounce of his anxious knee. “I need you to know how terribly sorry I am for everything I did. All the times I hurt you.” He sighed, as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “I- uh, I just really need you to understand that everything that happened to us was not your fault. At all. You-” his breath shook with a tremble, “You really were so fucking perfect during everything. So patience, so communicative, and I-I never listened to you the way you deserved, I just- I don’t know, I thought maybe-maybe if I gave it my all to this career, I could finally give you everything you deserve.”

His eyes attempted to blink away searing tears, but his emotions were getting the better of him. “A-And I know how fucking selfish that is, I had- fuck, I had no right to assume what you wanted from me, and-and put you in a position where you had to go through all my bullshit, all because I thought that in the end it would make you happy… without even speaking to you about it.” Eddie's voice cracked with a harsh sniffle to gather his strength. 

“I-I’m getting clean, um, it’s been really fucking hard, but I-I got the boys s-setting me straight everyday. Especially after I practically tortured them with my cries after you left.” His pity laughter softly broke through. “B-But yeah, sweetheart, I-I’m doing pretty good for myself- well, tryin’ to, at least. Still kinda always, constantly, forever feel like shit,” Eddie chuckled, “but I’m managing. T-The drugs n’ everything flushed n’ all, n-now just trying to hold off the booze, y’know? But fuckin’ hell does a beer get me through it.”

A smile began etching upon his face, where the history of all the laughter you provided him with creased his face with the lines of joy that only truly showcased in your presence. “Talked to our manager, he sure as hell was pissed when I insisted on getting rid of Jude. And she sure as hell went out with a bang, and smeared by name to the tabloids, but, uh, you probably already read about that- or not, I don’t, like, expect you to keep up with me or anything, honestly I kinda hope you didn’t, because, well, those first couple of weeks after everything real-really, uh… brought the worst out.” A deep breath escaped his mouth, as his fingers dug into the temples of his head to alleviate the dull pain. 

“I-I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really… trying.” Eddie swallowed thickly. “F-For my fans, the boys, myself, a-and you, Y/N. And I c-can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for taking, y’know, taking this long t-to get better, and for not trying better before, for having to h-hurt you just to learn, I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. A-And I’m not askin’ for a second chance- well, I know I don’t deserve one, not now or-or ever if you feel like it, I just need you to know I’m Eddie, somewhere inside- I’m working really hard on just being me- oh, but, of course, I do want to be with you. T-That wasn’t me saying I didn’t. I do, I-I always wanna be with you, I just- I, okay, I’ll shut up now.”

The deliberation was excruciating. 

The process of his words that rambled on for an eternity was too much to process, especially with a head injury, and he understood that to the fullest, but the quietness was becoming deafening, as he waited for your words… your rejection… your reciprocation. 

Anything.

And he couldn’t dare look you in the eyes, the ones that pierced his soul so deeply, and he desperately urged you to say something. Anything!

“Y/N?” Beep. Beep. Beep. “Sweetheart…?” His eyes fluttered forward. “Jesus H. Christ, Y/N!” Your peaceful sleep had garnered a frightful reaction from Eddie, as he jumped to his feet to urgently caress your face awake. Of course, when doing so, your eyes tiredly awoke to his face all too close for your liking, and a frown broke your face, as you attempted to move from him. 

“Christ, Eddie.” You debilitatingly rasped. “What are you doing?”

“Me?! What are you doing? Are you okay? You shouldn’t be going to sleep, you have a concussion! I-Isn’t that, like, something you shouldn’t do?!” He cupped your face straight to the blinding ceiling light, that had you mewling with annoyance. 

“Eddie, I can remember Reagan’s speech, and the fall of the Berlin Wall.” You dragged, prying his concerned hands off your face. “I think I’ll be just fine going to sleep. God, did you just expect me to stay up all night?”

A shuddering breath left his strangling throat, as his hands flexed at the electricity of the touch of your skin. His body tensed, as his round eyes worriedly followed the contours of features. “You didn’t- did you hear me, like, anything that I just said? B-Before you- I woke you up?” 

Your brows concave with a furrow of confusion, as you peered up at him through wispy lashes. “What’d you say?”

A deep sigh left his dry lips, as he flashed you a small smile filled with sincerity. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It was nothing.” His hands gently worked to cover your body further with blankets to keep you warm, as your suspicious stare hesitantly nodded in acceptance to his words. “Y-You hungry, or-or need more blankets? Painkillers, anything?”

You delicately rejected his help with a shake of your head. “Just tired.” You softly answered. “And you should probably leave, too. Get some sleep.”

Despite his mind refusing your proposal, he knew your rest was vital for recovery, and he watched you slowly turn your back to him, as his slow steps marked his way to the door. So lonely, he gazed at your tired body curl up into itself like it once did when his presence was actually yearned by you; all safety once found in his embrace, as he promised to never let go. And though he never did, his actions forced you to let go, as he now had to bear witness to seeing you become content with yourself. Something he could never imagine doing so. 

His finger flipped the switch. You never were a fan of the overhead lights. And once so, a peaceful sigh buried its way from your parted lips, as your mind rested in tranquil darkness. 

Eddie’s hand wrapped around the doorknob that allowed the hallway light to bleed in. But his eyes couldn’t dare leave you once more. Five months of deprivation killed him every passing day, and one glimpse of your beaten self made him feel like an addict breaking their withdrawal. There was once a time in which he was beckoned with the devastating occurrence of you leaving him no choice but to watch you walk away. Now, he had an opportunity. A chance. To walk away. Or stay. Leaving you alone, hurting, in a cold, empty hospital room was too heartbreaking of an option to ever endure, and he was vowing to his words of never hurting you again. 

He gently closed the door with no intent to deceive you, but rather care for you. Right now, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. And his mind felt at peace knowing he could watch over you; his heart dissipating to the rhythm of calmness only you could bring him to. His quiet steps guided him back to the stiff chair that numbed his bottom and stabbed at his back. But it all became worth it, finally seeing you at peace, after the last weeks he ever got to see you your face had been permanently etched in distress, because of him. 

Despite being awake for nearly twenty-two hours now, Eddie Munson spared a couple more just to look at you.

The morning to follow, Dr. Rosenthal had commented greatly on the normalcy of your brain. And Eddie felt envious. You could take thirty more blows to the head, and your brain would still function far better than his ever could. You, unfortunately, had no chance to question his lingering presence, since your body had been awakened by the prodding of a nurse who kindly checked if your vitals were up to par. You figured you’d save her the awkwardness of interrogating your ex-boyfriend, the rockstar.

“If necessary, just some acetaminophen of your choice once every four to six hours depending on the instructions. But if your pain seems to not be improving, I’ll surely write you a prescription for a triptan, whichever one we can work out best for you.” You nodded along, subtly watching Eddie in the corner of your eye, who was listening too intently for someone who was bound to leave in a couple minutes. “And for your stitches, twice a day, remove the old coverage, clean off, and apply a new gauze. After a while, you should be okay with doing it once, and by the two, two and half week mark, I’ll have a referral to remove them when the time comes.” You sighed, taking a minute to let your head process the instructions of the older gentleman before you. “Alrighty, any questions?”

“No, really, you’ve been so helpful with everything-”

“She can’t drive, right?” Eddie butted in. 

Dr. Rosenthal took a long second to peer at him, before clearing his throat. “Wouldn’t recommend it under your symptoms. Nausea and dizziness can impair your ability, so we can call someone, arrange transp-”

“I already got that covered.” Eddie spat a smirk back in retaliation. 

“As long as it’s okay with you.” Dr. Rosenthal sympathetically smiled at you.

You drew out a defeated sigh, and watched Eddie react like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Fine.” You begrudged. 

“Alright then, you go ahead and take the time needed to gather your things, and you can check out at the front desk.” Your trusted doctor assured you. “Call me if you have any questions or concerns, and I’ll gladly help. You have a Merry Christmas, Ms. Y/L/N.” Eddie was spared from a polite holiday goodbye. 

You gently smiled. “Thank you, have a Merry Christmas, as well.” 

With a click of the door behind him, Eddie was quick to let out a breath of relief, as though Dr. Rosenthal lifted a burden off his shoulders. His hasty movements brought your bag of clothes from beneath your hospital bed to plop against your legs. “These yours?” He pried the drawstrings open. 

“No, they’re the lady’s who gave birth before this became my room.” Eddie deadpanned, continuing to rummage through your belongings.

He snorted. “Psh, no pregnant lady would wear an Anthrax tee.” Something that very much still belonged to him, as he threw your t-shirt to your chest. 

“Did you stay here after I told you not to?” Your eyes glared in a deadly squint that challenged his snarkiness. 

“N-No.” A big, fat lie. His gaze was avoidant of yours, as his hands worked hurriedly to empty the bag of your pants… a brown flannel… your right Reebok… then the left, of course… an earring that stabbed him… the other that didn’t, because he learned his lesson… and some pretty, pretty pink panti-

“Stop looking at those!” You snatched the lacy material from his hands, as he threw his arms up in defense. “And if you didn’t stay, why are you still wearing the same clothes?” You prodded further. 

“Oh, my god, I didn’t stay.” He huffed. And you hated the portion of your heart that allowed his words to hurt you, because how come he didn’t stay? “Just headed back to the hotel, took a nap, and came back here early.”

You allowed your hurt to bite back. “That’s gross, you smell.” But he’ll permit your chastising insults if it meant you wouldn’t be angry at him for going against your wishes. 

“Can you just hurry up and change, so I can take you home.” He rolled his eyes. “I arranged a car to have us picked up, and take you home.” 

“I hope you know how pretentious that sounds.” And Eddie Munson stared and stared, as you balled your clothes into the sanctity of your lap. “Well, don’t look, turn around.”

Eddie’s mouth gaped, laughing in disbelief. “Please, sweetheart, I’ve been staring at you naked for the past seven years of my life.”

“You know what? Just for that, you can go to the bathroom and wait, until I say so.” You smiled, so pleased to watch Eddie scoff incredulously. 

Eddie turned on his heels with an exhale of exasperation to match, as he strutted his way into the tiny bathroom. “Can just close my eyes, and picture you naked.” Luckily with his back turned, he wouldn’t dare notice the small smile that cracked your face. 

Eddie’s mind had been buzzing with thoughts for the entire forty-five minutes it took for the chauffeur to pull up and parallel park in front of your townhouse. Like clockwork, your brow arched upon seeing the movements that followed yours: Eddie clicking his seatbelt. “Look, don’t give me that look, I already know what you’re about to say, but please, just let me come in, and help you.” You huffed, letting your eyes bounce from the window to his face that was hardened with determination. “C’mon, let me make it up to you this one time.”

Another defeated ‘fine’ was murmured under your breath, as Eddie made the quick trip to help you out of the car. “Just head back, man, I’ll call you when I need to.” Numerous bills were discreetly slid into the hands of the driver, before he took his cue to leave the neighborhood. 

“Hey, Y/N!” The blizzarding winter left the precisely planted trees along the sidewalk to lose their green shrubbery; your one shield from the sun that still blazed its light down the Demember wind. But through the glares, you matched that voice to the friendly neighbor who lent you his ladder… and subsequently took you to the hospital once you fell off. 

“Oh, hi, Trevor!” You waved to him from atop of his stairs, as you caught sight of the reusable bags of groceries in his hand. 

“Hm, Trevor.” Eddie hummed quietly beside you. 

Despite the cold, he took the needed steps down to speak to you at a volume that didn’t require yelling. “Hey, I’m sorry for leaving you at the hospital so suddenly, Andreas’ car broke down when she tried to leave from work, and I had to go help her-”

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it, it’s okay!” You reassured him from any guilt. “Seriously, I was out for most of my time there, and you already helped so much with bringing me there.”

“Yeah, and I was going to head back to check on you, but they told me your partner-”

“Yeah, me! Y’know…” Eddie interjected with a wave, as you suppressed the roll from your eye, watching him proudly identify himself as such with an eager point of his finger. 

“Yeah, hey, Eddie, been a long time since I’ve seen ya, man-”

“Oh, Y/N! Trevor told me all about you!” Andreas' voice echoed from the front door, as her robe clung closely to her body in an effort to house any warmth she could. “How are you feeling? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, nothing to worry about, just a couple stitches and a concussion.” As polite as they were, your flannel was only doing so much to shield you from the cold, which was already in hand causing that throb to return from the sharp blinding of the sun. Why wouldn’t they shut up?

Eddie watched the twitch of your eye succumb to your expression. If anything from the last seven years taught him anything, it was that you were two sentences away from a fully engraved scowl chiseling your face; always so unaware of how blatant your emotions showcased. “Speaking of which, I should probably go get her to lay down, and rest!” Eddie smiled, as he took your hand up the stairs to your front door. 

“Of course, no problem.” Trevor kindly smiled. “And, hey, keep my ladder as long as you need, don’t worry about it.” 

An exchange of ‘thank you’s’ finally allowed your neighbor to leave you be, as the key slid into the lock of your door. “That was Andrea, his girlfriend. Are you gonna be jealous if I speak to her, too?”

His laughter warmed the chilled air that smoked his breath. “Fuck off, sweetheart.”

Your house had been all but welcoming upon the first steps. A puddle of blood had stained your wooden floor with the injuries of your head, as fallen garlands messily draped down your walls from your lack of skills with a hammer and nail. You’d never admit to him in a lifetime, but Eddie Munson was surely right that you, personally, were too dimwitted to use tools with no guidance. Turns out a leveler and stud sensor were actually quite useful in keeping your house from being hammered with the countless holes that now decorated your walls. You watched Eddie take in the amateur scenery, his will working overtime to stifle the chuckle that quivered his lips thin. “You make any comments, and I’ll kick you out.”

His hands flew up in defense. “I wasn’t going to say anything- although, how gnarly would a photo of your blood be as our next album cover?”

Giggles of shock coming from you rang in his ear like a catchy melody. “Listen, you came here to help, so please do. I want to shower, and sleep-”

“And eat. That hospital food was shit.” He prioritized. “Go shower, I’ll make you some breakfast,” his watch proved otherwise, “or lunch, I guess, and you can eat before you sleep- oh! And take your medicine, as well. I’ll switch out your bandages when you’re done showering. Don’t worry about anything here, okay? Just relax for me.”

And you did just so, following the words of his advice brought you to the warmth of your shower, where your limbs fell slack from destressing. You worked around the stitching of your head that stung under hot water, as you maneuvered your hair through the rainfall of the showerhead. But too much steam was beginning to blur your vision, and your shower was cut unfortunately short after you swiftly rid your body of any lingering antiseptic smell that clung to you. 

“Ow, Eddie!” Your hand squeezed his, as your forehead became cushioned by the tone of his torso, where he stood before you. 

As you sat on the toilet, he looked down, and caressed your head gently. “Sorry, sweetheart, just gotta get it clean, ‘s all.” A new square of gauze concealed your wound, before a long strip of bandage secured itself around your forehead. Your head lifted from the comfort of his belly, and he bent at the waist to examine your face. A smile grew so naturally. “There… beautiful as always.” There was no denying the lunge in your heart that soared at his words, but your stubbornness withheld the swoon that would have usually followed with a new inure look to your face. Eddie guffawed at your pertinaciousness. “Fine, I hope you know you have a bald spot on the back of your head.”

And he devilishly smiled at your sudden movements to feel around your hair. “It’s only because of the stitches.” You gruffed in protest. “Plus, what the back of my head looks like is none of my business.”

“Still, you’re balding before me.”

And you wanted so desperately to wipe that smirk off his face. “Push back your bangs right now.”

Touche. “You should really eat your food before I spit in it.”

You had the liberty of delving into Eddie Munson’s personally made lukewarm tomato soup, and a sandwich so untimely perfect, the burnt bread did little to match the cheese that surely did not melt. And yet, it did everything to fill that little hole in your heart, as one bite brought you back to the cozy trailer, where endless nights were spent concocting meals from ingredients that scientifically went together, but for some reason refused to work when Eddie touched them. 

He left you alone in the comfort of your bedroom that was once shared with him, as you quietly endured enjoyed your meal, and sat with the events that came about. Seeing Eddie had tumultuously screwed with your already bruised head, and set you back a mile on the path to peace. Where you blamed yourself over the rise of bubbling feelings, you also gave yourself the grace of remembering this man had been the love of your life for seven years. Facing him would be anything but peaceful, and yet, his stupid, round face managed to conjure that settling tranquility of deep contentment within your heart that only ever built under his hands of love and care. But he also managed to tear it, and that was something beyond the repairs of five months apart. No matter how brutal. Your pillow still stained with the tears of endless cries over the insecurities of no longer being good enough for him. But if you sniffed deep enough, his burrowed cologne would fume into your nose at night that allowed you to gain a safe sleep during the dark hours. 

How polarizing he could be was beyond the study of any scientist. 

Between the last slurp of your soup, your eyes succumbed to the heaviness of your eyelids, as what was intended to be a half an hour nap prolonged into a five hour doze, until the sun decided to rest for the evening, bleeding its red into a darkening sky. As advised by your doctor, a couple pills were to be popped to alleviate that ache that would haunt you for days to come, so with a march to the kitchen ahead, you called for the man you needed most. “Eddie!” Drowned by your tiredness, your voice did little to amplify his name from the second floor. “Eddie!” But a second call of his name proved to be useless when nothing followed in return.

Dr. Rosenthal surely hadn’t been lying about the aftermath of dizziness, as the simple event of walking down your staircase had turned into an olympic sport that nearly caused another blow to your head if it hadn’t been for the obscene tightness of your grip on the railing that descended. “Eddie, seriously! I’ve been calling you, can’t you hear?!”

The quietness of your home answered back, as you approached the bottom steps of the stairs, where suddenly soft lights straightened the blurred lines of your eyes to the clarity of a beautiful glow. Warm lanterns and sticks of candles kindled your chimney and center table, where red bows of various sizes decorated themselves along your living room to match the ribbon of your Christmas tree that had not been put up prior to your waking. Sweet scents of cinnamon and pines worked magically to calm the agitated nerves of your head, and your eyes dragged in awe to the breathtaking display of green garlands that dressed your home to the Christmas perfection you always dreamed of. 

Your eyes watered, and though you knew he wouldn’t answer, you still quietly spoke. “Eddie?”

So simple, yet so fulfilling, your heart soared at the work of his hands that ached for your happiness. While it did not amount to the pain he once dragged you through, a meaningful smile that hadn’t been flashed in months finally etched its place onto your face where it perfectly belonged.

And much to your dismay, but simultaneously your biggest hope… it was because of him. 

While it broke your spirit for his efforts to take so long to return, you smiled through your hurting cries, as you finally gained the wish for your Eddie—once lost, now running through the wooded path to be found—to return. And with it, a note to keep your heart content with the soundness of peace. Whether it be with Eddie. Whether it not be with Eddie. 

At the very least, you got your Christmas spirit. 

Management wants to bitch me out, I’m sorry I had to leave you :( but I’m gonna convince ‘em to let me stay in Indy for a while. Kinda hard to say no to a face like mine, you know? You know. Call me to make sure you’re okay, sweetheart, or I’ll break into your house! - Love, Eddie

P.S, gave Trevor his ladder back, so don’t speak to him :)

[strdstwanderer]

If Jason Todd really wants to kill the Joker, he should become a prosecutor.

Gotham CITY (emphasis added) makes no sense to me. It is the only CITY in all of DC comics where a supervillain goes to an asylum and not prison. Almost every supervillain goes to Arkham for criminal insanity instead of prison. Blackgate exists. Iron Heights exists. It's so bad that the idea of Bruce Wayne beating up the mentally ill became such a prevalent misconception of the character and Arkham became a shorthand for Gotham's supermax prison.

In the United States, there are four major tests for criminal insanity or not guilty by reason of insanity defense.

The M'Naghten Rule, Irresistable Impulse, Duhram Rule, and the Model Penal Code. Each STATE in the country uses at least a variation of this. Without getting into the weeds of them, the main takeaway is that they test wether:

1. The defendant had a mental illness or defect.

2. The mental illness or defect made them unable to conform to the law.

3. The mental illness or defect makes them unable to appreciate the wrongfulness of their action.

Only a handful of Batman villains fall under these criteria. Off the top of my head, Harvey Dent and the Ventriloquist. Characters like Ivy, Freeze, Manbat, or Bane don't fall into any of these criteria.

Joker does not fall in these criteria either. He knows what does is wrong. He isn't compelled to do what he's doing because of his mental illness or defect if one such exists. If Jason wanted him dead, he could just be a prosecutor and argue against Joker's criminal insanity.

But what about him breaking out?

That's why I highlighted the words City and State. These laws on what defines Criminal Insanity are either in State Statutes or Federal ones. There are no local city ordinances that define criminal insanity because the State legislature controls that. That means if Washington State follows the Model Penal Code, then Seattle applies it the same as Spokane.

Look at every city in the DC Universe. Villains go to prison, never asylums. It only ever applies in Gotham. In some versions, Gotham is across the bay from Metropolis. So, assuming they share a stare, then Metropolis should be sending people like Luthor, Toyman, and Livewire to an asylum too since their laws for what criminal insanity is should be the same as Gotham's (same state and all). But no. Gotham is a legal anomaly.

Jason as an attorney can advocate for a uniform application of State statute. Maybe even convince the State to appeal the trial court's judgment regarding Joker's defense.

One could argue that Gotham is corrupt. Sure. But there's no business sense for the local crime families to lobby for all the costumed freaks to go to one easily-breakable asylum instead of prison. Cobblepot being sent there makes sense in that reading, but Joker?! Plus, we're talking about a whole State, not a just a city. So it'd be unlikely that a handful of Gotham crime families can convince the State to let Joker go to Arkham. Especially if the State can somehow resist Luthor enough to send him to prison.

But how does this kill the Joker? The Death Penalty. Joker would be more than eligible for it. Although, the Death Penalty does take a long time before it gets actually conducted.

I just think it's a lost opportunity not to have a Batman legal drama where Jason becomes a prosecutor hellbent on sending the Joker, and all other villains, to prison. It would give Bruce a moral dilemma where on hand, Jason is doing everything by the books, but his intent is to kill others using the death penalty. What should Bruce do? Should Batman intervene? Should Bruce lobby for the removal of the Death Penalty? Should Bruce provide Joker with legal counsel to combat Jason?

[transparencyboo]

For the last two weeks or so I've been playing the Mega Drive dungeon crawler Shining in the Darkness. I've recently been going through all the various action-RPGs the system had to offer and kinda found myself lusting for more, so I expanded the scope.

Shining in the Darkness had one of those cover arts I vividly remember seeing in game stores during the 90s, I understood already back then that whatever this was would be too complicated for my feeble preschool brain, but it had a shiny glossy allure that still beckoned to me with promises of daring adventures and grand battles. Questions lingered in my head: Who is that evil bastard zapping sparks at Cavin from the Gummi Bears? Why has the king entrusted the safety of his kingdom to a meagre boy and his two misfit friends?

Well, it turns out that big bad guy is called Dark Sol, the bane of all game difficulty discourse, and the reason the king has enlisted three poor kids is because there is no one else to rely on after your daddy went missing. Everyone else just sorta gives up along the way.

My initial conclusion of this game was to commend my young self for the striking assessment, my five year old self would never get anywhere in this game between the English text, abstracted navigation and number crunching battle mechanics. Shining in the Darkness is a bona fide classic dungeon gauntlet endurance simulator, where you traverse vanishing point block tunnels and encounter enemies. I've played one or two games like this before, like the original Phantasy Star, but this time a new desire struck me. I wanted to draw maps. Maybe I'm just getting older and more patient, leading me to wilfully ignore easily available resources online.

By my recollection, this is the first time I've dedicated myself to playing a game like this. Usually I just resort to my sense of direction, which I've gathered seems to at least be above average, since anytime I go anywhere with anyone I always end up playing shepherd so they don't get lost. Worst case scenario I'll just fall back to mapping efforts by online heroes from years past. For Shining in the Darkness I persisted blindly about halfway through until I admitted to myself charting a map of the labyrinthine caves would be a lot easier. Luckily, the game allows you to spend 1 MP to see a chunk of where you've walked, meaning I could get neatly organized segments to copy by hand.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway from this endeavour was how much of the game experience was expressed through this map project. I spent just as much time slaying beasts as I did counting tiles and filling them out with my pencil. It became a natural counterbalance that provided vital pacing to the game mechanics. Walking, fighting, charting. In turn, through the principle of learning by doing, I gained a more intimate familiarity with the environments by just replicating them out on a sheet of paper. I found that while the map helped, I actually didn't need it much for backtracking because my drawings had helped me remember the layouts of the corridors anyway.

I guess the lesson learned is that while old design sensibilities may appear to be arcane and cumbersome when easier solutions exists, the obfuscation is part of the fun. The game hands me an intentionally hard to navigate world, shows me that it's fully capable of displaying maps of it, but still asks me to provide that dimension myself. Through doing this, I discover that drawing maps is both surprisingly enjoyable and cognitively stimulating. I realize that had I downloaded some pre-packaged maps online and used as my bible, Shining in the Darkness would've been a vastly different experience, one of monotonous meandering through endless fights while confidently striding along the known path.

Perhaps that's why the game was called Shining and the Darkness in Japan, it doesn't flow as well as the western title, but at the same time it poetically reflects this act of discovery. I am Shining, the game provides the Darkness, we work together, we must unify to become whole.

As for Dark Sol, he turned into a big monster boy and was vanquished by a spunky cartographer child and her two cohorts. The unknown has been made known and the kingdom is once more saved.

/Kiki

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Chapter one: The Day the Americans Came

Harry Crosby x Maggie Reid / Ken Lemmons x Maggie Reid

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: Maggie has never been one for love and romance, choosing to concentrate on the job at hand and to play her part in the war effort. When the Americans descend on Thorpe Abbotts Maggie and the Lancaster bomber crews are less than pleased, until she meets a Navigator and a Flight Chief.

Collab with @georgieluz

Maggie Reid Archie Sullivan

June 27th 1943, 11:00, Thorpe Abbotts AAF base

Looking down at her left hand, Maggie sighed. Another letter had arrived from her mother asking when she was finally going to give up this ‘folly’ and go home to get married. For some reason her mother didn’t agree with her participation in the war effort, and despite her endless lectures on how proud she was of Maggie’s sister for joining the Army Nursing Corps, joining the Woman’s Auxiliary Air Force and working predominantly as ground crew wasn’t good enough. ‘It’s not women’s work,’ was her main retaliating comment.

While her sister's ring finger adorned a silver ring, an oval cut diamond that caught the light perfectly, and with a Major on her arm to suit her perfect lifestyle, Maggie did not. Her left hand was currently wrapped in a bandage to cover the large gash she had earned yesterday whilst trying to rivet a new sheet onto the damaged Lancaster Bomber.

Grumbling, she climbed down the ladder, placing her hammer into the toolbox on the floor and wiping her brow with her red handkerchief. June, her little spaniel, was tucked up asleep by the wheels, snoozing contently in the warm, summer sun. Every now and again she would whimper, her legs twitching and Maggie hoped she was dreaming of chasing rabbits.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie caught a blue figure striding towards her, and the skip in his step indicated that it was none other than the bane of her existence and one of her best friend, Archie Sullivan.

“Good morning Love, and how are we doing on this fine morning?”

Maggie huffed, “Just fine, no thanks to you and your flying antics. How is it you manage to damage this plane every time she leaves my sight?”

Archie looked up, cocking his left eyebrow at her, “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to darling June here, wasn’t I girl?” The blue roan cocker spaniel quickly emerged from beneath the plane, her tail wagging frantically as she jumped onto the pilots lap, licking under his chin in an affectionate greeting.

Of course he was talking to the dog. Nearly every man in his squadron knew June, but very few even acknowledge Maggie’s existence.

“But on that note, how are you?” Archie stood, brushing his uniform off from the marks that June’s paws had left. He had his signature cocky grin on his lips and Maggie had to fight the urge not to punch him in his ridiculously handsome face on a daily basis. There was just something infuriating about his cockiness which was actually how they became friends in the first place when they’d first met at Duxford over a year ago.

“I’m fine,” she nodded curtly, picking up her toolbox and marching away from the plane, June running along at her heels.

“I take it you got another letter from your mother then,” Archie responded, he sauntered after her, catching up with her easily, only to receive a glare in response.

“How did you guess?” She was partly annoyed that he could read her so well, but thankful that she had someone to talk to. Someone who understood.

“Well, for a start you’re in a foul mood this morning, and you have this little scrunched line on your forehead that you get whenever something has upset you,” Archie noted, giving Maggie a sideways glance and accepting that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. “So… have you got your eyes on any of the new Americans on base?”

Maggie snorted, “They've only been here a few weeks. As if I'd have time for romance when I spend all my time repairing your plane. You’re lucky I like you Archie.”

“It’s not just my plane you’re fixing, there are others too. Eddie and Tom’s plane was in far worse shape last week,” Archie screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out at her, earning a small chuckle. “Well there are plenty of young eligible ground crew now the Yanks have turned up, not to mention pilots and navigators and…”

“Archie, give it a rest will you. God, you sound like my mother.” She stopped herself. Why had she given it away so easily? She didn’t want to talk about her mothers letter and yet somehow she always managed to open up to Archie.

“I see,” Archie rubbed his chin for a moment, his eyes glazed as he debated his next sentence. “How about we head out to Dickleburgh one evening? You could be my wingman.”

Maggie sniggered, “And what does that role entail? I’m not volunteering for anything that hasn’t been fully explained to me.”

Archie rolled his eyes, “It’s very simple. You just have to big me up to any attractive men and help me get in their good books, I can do the rest.”

Maggie thought for a moment, “Well that’s going to be difficult, there’s nothing good to say about you.” Archie shoved her gently and she mocked falling dramatically.

“Pushing a woman, whatever next Archie Sullivan. I’ll have you written up,” she jested playfully, rubbing her arm.

“Yeah, yeah sure you will. Seriously though, please will you come out with me, please,” he begged, clasping his hands together, his bottom lip stuck out.

Sighing Maggie relented, “Okay fine, but only if we can get a lift in a jeep, I’m not walking again.”

“Absolutely, definitely can do that, I promise,” Archie gave her a quick hug, kissing her cheek before hurrying back towards the officers Nissen huts. “You won’t regret this, Maggie. I promise.”

Maggie laughed, “I’m sure I will. Hey, wait a sec. Have you seen my wrench, I can’t find it anywhere?”

Archie shrugged, “Sorry, I haven’t seen it. Maybe try the Yanks, I’m sure they have lots of spare tools.” He waved goodbye quickly, striding back towards his hut where Maggie’s wrench happened to be hidden under his bunk. It was all in good sport, she just needed a gentle nudge sometimes.

June 27th 1943, 16:00, Thorpe Abbotts AAF base

“Hello, I was sent over here to see if you have a wrench I can borrow, mine has wandered off and otherwise I have to go all the way back across base to the store room,” Maggie shielded her eyes from the late afternoon sun, shouting to the seemingly empty Flying Fortress, when several heads appeared out of the windows.

One of the young men was hanging upside down out of the bomb bay doors, a cheeky grin on his face. “Well, hello there ma’am. How can I be of assistance?”

Maggie found herself turning her head sideways as she spoke, “Could I please borrow a wrench?”

The young engineer cocked his eyebrow, blinked a few times before disappearing back into the Fort and jumping down onto the tarmac.

“A wrench you say? I don't know if we have a spare one I’m afraid. Your best bet would probably be to check the store room.”

The young engineer slung the piece of cloth he’d been wiping his hands over his shoulder with a smirk, as he bent down to pat June on the head. The spaniel wagged its tail enthusiastically, jumping to lick the young man’s face. “What does a pretty lady such as yourself need a wrench for anyway?”

Maggie huffed, she should have gone there first rather than tracking across the base and then having to walk back anyway. This was all Archie’s idea, this was the last time she'd be taking any of his advice.

“I'm an engineer with the WAAF. Those Lancasters over there are my babies,” she pointed across the airfield to the dark specs in the distance which resembled the planes.

The young man nodded, an impressed grin on his lips, “Sorry I couldn't be of more help. I can walk across to the store if you’d like, I know it's a fair walk?”

Maggie thought over his offer for a moment. She guessed it would be nice to have some company, although looking at the state of the Fort behind him he was clearly needed here more. It was a nice gesture though and Maggie wiped her hands down her overalls before raising one to greet him. “No, that’s okay. I could use the walk. Thank you…?”

“Oh,” he shook her hand in return, “Sergeant Ken Lemmons, I'm the Flight Chief for the Forts,” he gestured behind him with a proud smile., his wavy locks bouncing as he turned his head.

“I’d never have guessed,” Maggie laughed, amused by their awkward encounter. “I’m Sergeant Maggie Reid. It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Lemmons, but I should probably start heading back, the long walk and all.”

“Sure thing, it was nice to meet you, Sergeant Reid,” Ken waved her off as she began her long walk back across the base. She waved back halfheartedly, chuckling as the other engineers dropped down from the Fort and began rigging Ken about a girl visiting him. A small smile creeped across her lips as a thought crossed her mind, maybe she would have to visit the American ground crew more often.

June 27th 1943, 17:00, Thorpe Abbotts AAF base

When she finally reached the building on the other side of the base, Maggie hurried down the corridor to the storeroom, hoping that she could get back out to the Lancaster before it got too dark. The corridor was narrow and she took a sharp turn, away from the briefing rooms that were buzzing with life behind her.

She often wondered what it would have been like to be an ‘ops room girl’, wearing her RAF blues every day, her hair curled and pinned neatly and not to constantly smell of engine oil.

Her mind began wandering to the cheeky smile Ken Lemmons had sent her way, when a body flew into the side of her causing her to collide against the wall and fall against the hard, wooden floor.

“I am so sorry miss, are you alright?” A worried face appeared above her, his forehead creased with concern. He was clad in a leather flying jacket and Mae West, with several maps rolled up under his arm, and his brown locks falling onto his forehead as he bent forward.

“Yeah I’m fine, no thanks to you,” she snapped, taking his outstretched hand and pulling herself up. “You dropped this.” She thrust the fallen snow globe into his palm with a weak smile.

“Oh thank God. Bubbles would have killed me if it had smashed,” he clutched the globe against his chest with a sigh, the small pieces of artificial snow drifting down to the flamingos inside once more.

Maggie looked at him quizzically, “Bubbles? What kind of a name is that?” She’d heard of some funny nicknames from the RAF pilots but ‘Bubbles’ was something else.

The young man smiled, looking down at the snow globe in his hand with a chuckle, “No, his real name is Joseph. Bubbles is just his nickname.”

Maggie rolled her eyes with a smile, “Well I’d hoped that wasn’t the name his mother gave him.”

The pair chuckled and the young man stretched out his hand, “Harry Crosby, I’m a navigator with the 100th.”

Maggie took Harry’s hand, shaking it slowly, “Crosby huh? Like Bing?” Harry just laughed, shaking her hand. “Well Harry, I hope you navigate the Forts better than you navigate these corridors.”

Harry nodded sheepishly, “I endeavor to try.”

Maggie nodded slowly, “Maggie Reid, I’m with the WAAF, I’m an engineer for the Lancaster Bomber.”

Harry smiled in response, “Well, it was really nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m in a hell of a hurry but I hope to see you around base sometime,” bundling his papers under his arm clumsily.

Maggie waved Harry off as he began hurrying along the corridor, almost dropping his maps again and he turned, embarrassed to see she was still watching him.

“Sure thing, Harry. Good luck.” Smiling to herself, she picked up her tool belt that had fallen to the ground when she had. Harry Crosby, she had a feeling, was going to be a name that she knew quite well. A loud crash from down the corridor caused her to chuckle. Harry Crosby sure was accident prone.

July 2nd 1943, 18:00, Dicklesburgh

“I can’t believe you’re making me cycle, Archie. You promised me a jeep,” Maggie whined, untangling her dress from the bike chain for the third time in the short ride to Dickleburgh.

“I know I did, but I couldn’t get one. I’m sorry Mags. I’ll do better next time, I promise,” he grinned cheekily over his shoulder at her as she huffed, straightening out her dress. She so rarely wore dresses and the light blue one fitted her perfectly and was her favourite. It now had three black, oily stains up the side of it which she could only pray would come out when she washed it.

The ride to Dickleburgh wasn’t long and they soon came to a halt beside the thatch-roofed pub, propping their bikes against the small, stone wall before following the pathway towards the pub door. Archie pushed the large wooden door inwards, bowing elaborately as he let Maggie go through first. She snorted at his chivalry, it was something that he only seemed to do for her, he was charming but obnoxious and annoying at times, yet Maggie couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Stepping into the bar, the familiar hum of chattering people met them, while a radio played comfortingly in the background. Making their way to their usual table, Maggie flopped down in one of the hard, wooden chairs, a sigh leaving her lips as her exhausted limbs ached.

Archie grinned, “You want your usual?” He already knew what he answer was going to be but he humoured her in case she decided on something different.

“Yes please,” she smiled sweetly at him and he rolled his eyes in return, their normal behaviour towards each other.

“One ginger beer coming up,” Archie sauntered towards the bar, grinning widely at the barmaid who battered her eyelashes at him. It always made Maggie laugh at the way women behaved towards Archie, when he had absolutely no intention in following through with his flirting.

Maggie couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her as Archie rolled his eyes at the barmaid's comment, returning with a ginger beer and a pint in his hands. “Well, that was… interesting,” Archie took a sip from his pint, ignoring the foam moustache that appeared on his top lip.

“You should just tell her that you’re not interested. The poor girl’s been after you for weeks,” Maggie raised an eyebrow at her friend's antics.

“But this way it keeps all the other ladies off my back. You ladies have a code, don’t you? While she’s pursuing me none of the others will bother me.” She had to admit that Archie had a good theory going but sooner or later the poor girl would realise the whole thing was a game, and she wasn’t sure how welcome they would be after that.

The door flying open alerted the pair to the group of Americans who strolled in, their heads held high like they owned the establishment and running their mouths in their usual, less than charming way. She recognised a lot of them, having seen them around base but none of them would know her, no one noticed ground crew, especially not a female one.

A familiar, smiling face caught her eye as she realised that none other than Harry Crosby was with the pilots. Well he is their navigator after all. And another person, who she could only assume was Bubbles, stood beside him. A hard jab in her ribs caused her to turn, glaring at Archie would just glared back at her.

“Who are you starting at? Did you hear anything I just said?”

She’d like to admit that she had heard every word in great detail, but she couldn’t lie as her eyes once again drifted over to Harry.

“Hey Maggie, I’m over here love,” Archie waved his hand over her face and she smacked him away.

“What? What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he sniggered, “You’re just funny when you’re mad.” Maggie huffed, squinting her eyes and her lips set in a thin line. Sometimes she wasn’t sure how she put up with his antics.

As the evening drew on Maggie loosened up, having stolen a few sips from Archie’s beer and denying all evidence. She wasn’t really one for alcohol but occasionally she needed liquid courage, even if she didn’t intend to talk to any of the other pilots.

“I need another drink,” Archie groaned, standing and stretching with elaborate effort before he once more sauntered towards the bar. Maggie shook her head, staring into her ginger beer thoughtfully.

A light tap on her shoulder caused her to jump, elbowing the other person in the ribs. She only realised who it was when the pained face of Harry Crosby was beside her, his hands clutching his ribs.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she jumped up from her seat but Harry just waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he wheezed, “If that's what your elbow can do, I’d hate to see what your left hook is like.” The pair laughed and Maggie encouraged Harry to join her table, having a niggling feeling that Archie would be stuck at the bar for a while.

“So what brings you to Dickleburgh?” Harry asked, adopting Archie’s seat opposite her, a wide smile forming on his handsome features, and Maggie couldn’t help but notice the way his lips turned up at the corners, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Oh, Archie and I come here all the time,” she motioned towards the RAF pilot at the bar, who was currently in deep conversation with one of the other American pilots.

Harry looked over at Archie, nodding solomley, “Then I shall leave you to enjoy the evening with your beau.” Harry pushed his chair away quickly, cringing as it scraped across the cobbled floor.

“No, wait!” Maggie stood quickly, grasping Harry’s arm, “He’s not my beau, I don’t have a beau. We’re just good friends. He flies one of the Lancasters I look after, I’ve known him for a while.”

Maggie noticed the relieved sigh that left Harry’s lips, but she chose not to mention it, relishing in his company and the two of them easily fell back into conversation.

“Tell me about yourself, Harry Crosby. What’s it like being a navigator?” Maggie smiled at him, watching as Harry’s cheeks blushed a light shade of pink.

“Well, it’s a lot of responsibility. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the right man for the job. I… well I umm suffer from terrible air sickness. I’m not sure how I got through training to be honest. I’m normally okay but then sometimes I get in the air and my stomach flips and up it comes.” They both cringe as poor Harry relived his embarrassment. Maggie realised that Harry was the navigator that her friend Madison, who was a nurse at the base infirmary, was telling her about last week.

“I said too much, I’m sorry,” Harry flapped, his nose growing pinker by the second. He could barely look Maggie in the eye, instead staring daggers at his empty pint glass.

“Please don’t apologise. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’d probably have motion sickness too, I’ve just never been in a plane,” she reached across the table and squeezed Harry’s hand, to which he returned the sentiment.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he mumbled, meeting her eyes. The way he looked at her then reminded Maggie of how June sometimes looked at her when she was waiting for a treat, large brown eyes looking so sorrowful.

“You haven’t let anyone down Harry, in fact I’ve heard you’re the best navigator in the 100th,” Maggie assured him, sending him a winning smile causing his heart to flutter.

“I don’t know about that. Now Bubbles he’s an amazing navigator. He’s one of the best,” he smiled fondly thinking of his best friend.

“I definitely need to meet this infamous ‘Bubbles’. He sounds like a very good friend.” Harry nodded, grinning back at her.

“He’s the best friend a guy could have.”

The pair quickly found common ground, discussing their lives at Thorpe Abbott when a hand suddenly appearing on her shoulder caused Maggie to jump as Archie’s smiling face appeared beside her.

“Hello, hello. Who do we have here?” Archie dropped down in the chair between Maggie and Harry, looking between them quickly, grinning like a madman. “You must be Harry Crosby,” he thrust his hand towards Harry who shook it quickly.

“I’m Archie, Archie Sullivan. Lancaster bomber pilot.”

Harry nodded, “Yes I’m Harry Crosby. Umm… navigator, 100th bomb group.”

Maggie watched in disbelief as Archie struck up a conversation with Harry who kept looking awkwardly between Maggie and Archie.

What was Archie playing at?

“Well isn’t this nice and cosy,” Archie remarked, knocking his knee into Maggie’s and winking at her. She just glared back at him, watching as Harry nervously chewed his bottom lip.

“So Harry Crosby, what part of the States are you from?” Archie asked, leaning across towards Harry expectantly.

“Oh umm…” Harry stumbled, “I’m from Iowa. It’s a midwestern state between Missouri and Mississippi. The capital is Des Moines, which is where I’m from.” He finished his ramble, picking up his glass and taking a long, disdainful swig from his warm pint of beer.

“Alright Harry, I didn’t ask for your life history,” Archie joked, earning a sharp kick in the shin from Maggie that had him withering beneath the table.

“So what are your intentions with young Maggie over here?” Archie blurted out, earning another wide-eyed glare from Maggie.

"I'm kidding, I’m kidding. I’m not that bad, I swear,” Archie laughed quietly, taking a sip from his half empty pint. “I’m not Maggie’s keeper.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and her eyes drifted across the pub to where she noticed the rest of her ground crew were standing. She caught James’ eye and he waved her over.

“I’ll be back,” she promised Harry, sending him a sympathetic smile to which his dark eyes pleaded with her not to leave him alone with Archie. It was alright though, she knew Archie had good intentions and just wanted what was best for her, even if that meant embarrassing her in front of a rather charming American.

She made her way over to the group of her fellow ground crew members, being met with a few cheerful hellos. James, more affectionately known as Jimmy, draped his arm over her shoulder. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a dashing smile, who Maggie had instantly warmed too.

“Who’s the Yank?” He pointed towards Harry who was cringing under Archie’s scrutiny.

Maggie laughed, “He’s a navigator with the 100th. I ran into him earlier and we got talking, now Archie’s giving him the twenty questions.”

“Poor fella,” Jimmy mused, turning his attention back to the other mechanics who were playing darts.

It was strange really how they’d accepted her as one of their own. She was actually higher ranking than all of them and thus they treated her with the utmost respect, unlike some of the pilots. The Lancaster ground crew were a tightly knit group of six people including Maggie who worked tirelessly to keep the planes spick and span and most importantly airworthy.

George tapped Maggie’s shoulder, “Ya fancy a go?” He pointed towards the darts board. George was just nineteen, with all his life ahead of him. He was local to Thorpe Abbott and his family often visited the base, bringing along with them the odd cakes for the rest of his crew.

“Nah,” Maggie shook her head, “Should probably rescue poor Harry from Archie’s interrogation.”

“First name basis with this navigator are we,” Jimmy jested, nudging her side.

“Oh piss off,” she laughed, shoving him in return. Maggie had grown to love the sibling comradery she shared with her fellow mechanics, always enjoying the crude jests and jokes they played on each other.

She made her way back across the pub, following the long wooden beams around to where Harry and Archie were seated and caught the end of their conversation.

“But I’m warning you, Harry. You do anything to hurt her, and I mean anything, and you and I will have a problem. She deserves to be happy and I’m not having some Yank come over here and break her heart.”

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes darting nervously between Archie and the door as if he was keeping his escape route clear.

“I like you Crosby, but she’s my best friend and I’ll always protect her.”

“I admire your devotion to her and I swear that my intentions are pure. I’m no threat and I mean no harm,” Harry quickly assured him, catching Maggie’s eye over Archie’s shoulder and smiling.

“Well then you and I should get on fine,” Archie stood, sending Maggie a winning smile when he noticed her presence. “Don’t worry, Mags, this one’s a keeper.”

Maggie’s face heated up and she sent Harry an apologetic smile, taking the seat Archie had previously occupied. “I’m so sorry about it that…” she began but Harry cut her off.

“You don’t have to apologise, you’re friend’s a nice guy and he’s just looking out for you. I admire your friendship, you both sound a lot like Bubbles and I.”

Maggie grinned back at him, Archie’s friendship truly did mean everything to her, without him her time at Thorpe Abbott would have been more hellish than she could ever know.

“He means well, although he gets on my nerves sometimes,” Maggie rolled her eyes dramatically and Harry laughed, throwing his head back a little. He looked so carefree compared with how distressed he’d looked when she’d first run into him.

The conversation continued to flow easily, Maggie told him about the latest flak damage one of the Lancasters had received while he told her of damage his plane had received on his first combat mission.

Maggie had never heard someone talk so descriptively and vividly about flak fire, of course, she knew what it was but she’d never experienced it herself. She found herself almost becoming emotional at the thought of all those young men under fire. She’d heard the stories from the Battle of Britain in the papers and on the radio, but to hear a first-hand account was so much worse.

“I’m sorry you didn’t need to know all that,” Harry sighed sadly. She wasn’t sure why he felt the need to keep apologising when he hadn’t said too much at all.

“No, no it’s okay. Don’t apologise, Harry, you never have to apologies for talking about things like this. It’s good to get it off your chest,” Maggie reached out, picking up Harry’s hand. “My mother always told me that a problem shared is a problem halved, so if you ever want to talk about it I’m always hear to listen.”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile appearing on his lips. He went to say something else when Archie and an American pilot appeared beside them.

“Hello love birds, how’s your evening going?”

Maggie sighed disdainfully, “It’s going well no thanks to your interruptions Archie.”

He gasped in mock hurt, “I’m so offended. You were meant to be my wingman too and instead, I had to do all the work myself.”

Maggie laughed, her eyes moving to look up at the pilot beside him. He wore a cocky smile, his black moustache twitching as his lips formed a smile. His hands rested on his hips and he gave her his hand.

“Major John Egan, ma’am.”

Maggie shook his hand reluctantly, her eyes leaving Harry’s for only a second, “Maggie Reid, it’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Call me John, please,” he assured her before Archie interrupted.

“We’re heading off now, Mags, are you coming? You can bring Harry along too.”

Harry stood from the table quickly, “I should be going anyway. May I walk back with you?”

Maggie’s heart raced a little faster as she nodded quickly, linking her arm through Harry’s, and ignoring the low whistle from Archie behind her.

The small group left the pub, following their way down the dimly lit path and back past the stone wall onto the road. Very little traffic could be found around here at night, the most being the Lancasters on their night missions overhead, and with very few civilians owning cars the roads were dead at night.

Maggie grabbed hold of her bike, pushing it along as she walked beside Harry, Archie and John Egan trailed behind them, engrossed in their own conversation.

Harry was commenting on how bright the stars were above them, there was no cloud cover tonight and they could be seen so brightly against the black backdrop.

“Yeah, they’re real beautiful,” Maggie agreed, “Back ‘ome in Dorset… home,” Maggie corrected herself. She always tried her hardest not to let her accent slip through but she still occasionally dropped her h’s still.

Harry just smiled at her, “You have an unusual accent.”

Maggie shook her head, “Nothin’ unusual about it really. I try not to let it slip too often.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to hide her accent, but when she was surrounded by well spoken RAF pilots and Americans it seemed like she was ‘common’ in some way.

“I like it,” Harry admitted, “It makes you different.”

Harry was the first man to ever like her accent. She’d had plenty of people comment on it before, the RAF pilots in Duxford where she’d been posted before Thorpe Abbott had often come up with choice names for her.

They fell into comfortable silence, arms swinging by their sides and their fingers occasionally touching, brushing against each other but neither wanted to make the first move.

“Why don’t you just do us all a favour and hold hands,” John Egan remarked from behind them, making both of them blush furiously at the Major's words.

Harry fixed his gaze on her, his dark eyes silently asking for permission, to which Maggie nodded and his hand slipped into hers. The action felt safe and familiar, like they’d been holding hands all their lives. Harry’s hand was much larger than hers, enveloping it, as if he meant to protect her from some unknown force.

Archie cleared his throat behind them, Maggie swung around to look at him.

“There’s something I want to show, John,” he motioned to Major Egan beside him, “So we’re going to walk a different way back to base. Harry, be a good chap and walk Maggie home for me would you?”

Maggie resisted the urge to smack Archie, she hated it when people talked about her rather than addressing her. She was quite capable of walking back to base herself, but from the look of Harry’s eager smile she could tell that he also didn’t want the evening to end.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure, Sir.”

Archie nodded, clearly pleased that his evening was going to plan, “Well Mags, I’ll see you in the morning alright. Here let me take the bikes, John can ride yours back to base.”

Maggie passed the bike over to Major Egan who took it gratefully, “I promise you’ll have it back in one piece,” he assured her, although Maggie wasn’t inclined to believe him.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Mags,” Archie added, laughing heartily as he turned away from her.

She went to protest but he was already in deep conversation with Major Egan, pushing the bikes in the opposite direction. She wondered what he so desperately needed to show the Major but with Harry’s hand in hers she barely spared them another thought as they continued down the road back to base.

She wondered what would come of her bicycle in the hands of the infamous John Egan but that would be Archie's problem. He would just owe her a new one.

“So, what’s your family like? Do you have any siblings?” Harry asked, his brown eyes shining in the moonlight, making them look lighter than normal. Maggie felt herself staring at him, admiring the light blush that spread across his pale features under her gaze, the way one loose dark curl fell across his forehead. He was an attractive man and Maggie suddenly felt very aware of their close proximity. She stepped back, pulling Harry along the road.

“My family isn't that interesting really,” Maggie began, hoping that Harry would just ask her another question, but his eyes remained on her and so she continued. “I’m from Poole, it’s a coastal town in Dorset, in the South of England.”

Harry nodded along as she talked. He seemed genuinely interested in what she was saying. No man had ever been this interested other than Archie. She’d had plenty of pilots walk her back to Thorpe Abbott but none of them cared what she had to say. Most only wanted one thing and when they realised they weren't going to get it they lost interest.

“My father is a sheep farmer and my mother is a seamstress. My sister, Daphne, became a nurse to help the war effort. She’s currently stationed in Africa which is where she met her fiancé, he’s some Major or something.”

Maggie wished she could be pleased for her sister but Daphne had always been the wild one. No doubt that this engagement would end in tears. “My parents are very proud of her, me on the other ‘and, well they just don't understand how I've worked with all these pilots and ‘aven't got a ring on my finger.”

She sighed, glancing at Harry who was now staring straight ahead, “Sorry, I’ve said too much.” She ducked her head in embarrassment. Why did she just tell him all that? Harry seemed like a nice young man and she just went blabbing about how no man seemed to want her. ‘Well done Maggie’, she berated herself but Harry just shook his head smiling.

“You didn't say too much, Maggie. I like hearing about your family.” His smile was genuine, he meant what he said and Maggie found herself smiling back at him.

“Now it's your turn,” she laughed, “Tell me all about the Crosby’s.”

“All right,” Harry laughed.

The conversation continued, both of them comparing their families and laughing all the way back to Thorpe Abbott. Maggie found herself wishing the walk was longer, something about talking with Harry Crosby made her feel more alive than she had felt in a long time. Life at Thorpe Abbott had all blurred into one and Maggie found herself going through the motions every day without truly feeling anything. Harry felt like a burst of light, breaking through the dark colds and actually noticing her.

As they neared the Nissen Hut where Maggie was stationed with the other women on base she felt disappointed. Who knew whether Harry would want to see her again after tonight? She hated to think that this would just be one night that she would hold close to her heart every time things got tough.

“This is me,” she motioned to the hut to the left. “I had a real nice time with you, Harry.”

Maggie felt her hand slipping from his and suddenly she felt cold and alone. Harry reached back, taking her hand in his and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“I had a great time too, Maggie. I'd love to do it again, if you'd like to of course,” his cheeks were dusted red before he finished his sentence, his eyes looking down at his shoes.

“I’d like that very much,” with a sudden minute of courage she leant forward, pressing her lips to Harry’s cheek. “Good night, Harry.” The young navigator blushed furiously in the darkness and Maggie’s heart swelled at the shy smile he sent her way.

“Goodnight Maggie.”

From the step of the Nissen hut, Maggie watched as Harry disappeared into the darkness, turning the corner and vanishing from view as if he'd never been there in the first place. However, the feeling of his hand in hers remained, reminding her that it had all been real.

Ken Lemmons watched the whole scene unfold, jealousy biting at his heart as he watched Maggie smile fondly at Harry. Of all people, it had to be Harry. He didn't have a bad bone in his body and he was the most genuine, and kind man Ken had ever met. How could he ever compete with that?

Maggie noticed the lit end of a cigarette glowing orange in the darkness, she couldn't see the figure it belonged to but she knew they were there. She had felt their eyes on her earlier, but she couldn't pinpoint who it was. She opened the door of the hut, letting June out to do her business before bed.

June’s nose was instantly in the air, sniffing around until she bounded across to the stranger. A rather embarrassed Ken Lemmons stumbled into view with the little spaniel attached to his leg.

“You can’t hide from June,” Maggie mused, moving down the steps to greet Ken. “What are you doing lurking in the darkness and with a bunch of flowers no doubt?”

Ken blushed even more, shoving the now wilting flowers behind his back, clearing his throat. “I was waiting for someone.”

“Oh really. Well, Helen, Tatty and Mads are asleep so you've got yourself a long wait, Ken,” Maggie turned around, her bed was calling her now and she had an early start in the morning.

Ken cleared his throat behind her, “I wasn't waiting for any of the other girls. I was waiting for you, I just didn't expect you to come back with Crosby. Thought you'd be with your RAF friend.”

Maggie could hear the disappointment in his voice and turned back to look at him, “You were waiting for me? Why?”

Ken toed the earth with his boot. How was he supposed to explain himself when the likes of Crosby had caught her eye? He was nothing more than a Sergeant and ground crew at that, even though they were the same rank he knew Maggie could do better.

“I saw these flowers and I thought you might like them. I also wanted to make sure you found yourself a wrench because I've got a spare you could have.” He produced the wrench and the drooping flowers from behind his back, watching sadly as one of the heads fell from the flowers.

Something was endearing about the way he stood, his eyes trained on the ground as he offered up the wrench and flowers. It was strange really but it was the grandest gesture a man had ever done for her. Ken shook his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“This was silly, I'm sure you found a wrench,” he turned away, wandering back towards the direction he’d come from. “Goodnight Maggie,” he bent down, scratching the spaniel's head, “Night June.”

“Wait!” Maggie hurried after him, catching his arm. Ken found his eyes trained on her hand on his arm, his breath hitched as their eyes met.

“There's nothin’ wrong with ‘aving a spare wrench, right?” Her hand reached out, wrapping around the tool and allowing their fingers to brush. “And I do like primroses, they're my favourites actually.” She smiled gently at the young Seargent. “Thank you, Ken.”

Ken thanked his lucky stars that Archie’s information had been correct. He’d have to thank the pilot when he next saw him.

“You're very welcome, Ma’am,” he bowed elaborately and Maggie chuckled.

“Call me Maggie, please.”

“Goodnight Maggie.”

“Night Ken.” She watched in amusement as Ken walked off into the darkness, a newfound skip in his step as he whistled a tune. She hurried back to her hut, June at her heels. She closed the door quietly, turning to see two sets of eyes watching her.

“Did I just see you with Crosby and Lemmons?” Mads blurted out immediately, waggling her finger at Maggie. Mad’s had been one of Maggie’s first friends at Thorpe Abbotts. She was an American nurse from North Caroline with a big personality who took the shy English mechanic under her wing. “I can't believe it's taken you this long to find yourself a man and now you have two.”

Helen agreed, “I didn't even know you were going out with Harry.”

“I wasn't,” Maggie corrected her, “I was out with Archie but he met someone and so Harry offered to walk me home. He was being a gentleman, that’s all.”

Tatty laughed, “A gentleman you say? Well, young Seargent Lemmons has been sitting out there all night waiting to see you. He knocked on our door about 6 O'Clock asking for you. Told him you'd be back late and he chose to wait.”

Maggie blinked, she couldn't quite comprehend what she was being told. “Why on earth would Ken be waiting all that time for me?”

“First name basis are you,” Mads laughed, “I think you'll find that Ken Lemmons has a little soft spot for you Maggie. No man would wait in the dark for five hours if he didn't like you.”

Maggie shook her head, placing the droopy primroses in a glass of water, hoping to revive them as the guilty feeling that she kept him waiting ate away at her. The thought crossed her mind that she’d never mentioned liking Primroses when they had last met, it must have been a lucky guess.

“I’ve only met him once and I don’t think I made that much of an impression.”

“Well, you obviously made some kind of impression, and on Harry Crosby too. Whatever next Maggie, you’ll have a name for yourself,” Mads jested, leaning back against her pillows with a devilish grin.

Maggie sighed, unpinning her hair and stripping off to change for bed. The image of Ken sitting out there all that time waiting for her broke her heart, but the image of his sad face broke it even more.

As she lay in bed thinking of Ken, his face soon morphed into the face of a smiling Harry, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he grinned back at her. She huffed rolling onto her side as Harry’s face morphed into Ken’s, the young Seargent grinned cheekily at her. She rolled over onto her other side and Ken morphed back into Harry Crosby.

Groaning, Maggie sat up in bed, trying not to wake her sleeping friends.

Who would have thought that in one day her life could become so complicated?

She met these men twice yet they seemed to haunt her waking and sleeping thoughts.

What was she supposed to do?

As sleep overtook her mind Maggie relaxed, finally falling into a dreamless sleep where she could escape the confusing feelings of her heart until the morning.

July 3rd 1943, 10:00, Thorpe Abbotts AAF base

Maggie watched as June picked up the pace, hurrying towards the B17 on the handstand in front of them, her little legs carrying her along.

A figure jumped down from the fort, throwing his arms wide as the little spaniel threw herself into him, “Hey June,” he just managed to say as June's tongue came into contact with his face, making him squirm as she washed him.

“That’s how you know she likes you,” Maggie called out and Ken’s head shot up, smiling brightly at her.

“Well I hope all the English girls greet me like this!” He exclaimed, hurrying over to her with June still cradled in his arms.

“Not quite,” she laughed.

“It’s good to see you, I was kind of worried you’d be avoiding me after last night.” Ken’s cheeks blushed a deep red as he remembered the fact that he’d been hidden outside her hut in the dark for hours.

Maggie shook her head, “Not a chance. You’d have to do a lot worse to scare me away, Ken Lemmons.”

Ken chuckled, placing June back on the ground and she hurried off towards where two young boys were sitting by the B17 with a husky.

“Well, that sure is good to know.” Ken’s eyes found hers and the pair instantly looked away, suddenly all too aware of each other's presence.

Maggie wasn’t sure why but any time she was under Ken’s gaze she felt her heart race a little faster. Clearing her throat she looked up, “Who are the two young boys, they look too young to be pilots?”

Ken laughed, enjoying her sarcastic comment, “That’s Billy and Sammy, they live nearby but they spend most of their time on base. They like to help me out with the planes.”

“Two willing workers huh? You can send them my way when you're done with them, those Lancasters could always use an extra pair of hands,” Maggie joked, following Kenny as they began their walk back towards the Fort.

The two boys were sitting on the ground, one with June sitting in his lap while the other stroked the large husky.

“I’ll be sure to tell them that,” Ken grabbed her hand suddenly, causing Maggie to jump. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Maggie followed willingly, enjoying the feeling of her hand clutching Ken’s, “Boys, I’ve got someone I want you to meet. Maggie, this is Sammy, Billy and Meatball the husky.”

Ken pointed at the two boys who looked up quickly, identical smiles on their faces.

“This here is Maggie,” Ken gestured to Maggie and the two boys looked at her suspiciously.

“So you’re Maggie…” one of them began before the other interrupted.

“Are you Ken’s girlfriend?”

Ken’s eyes went wide as he stared at the boys in utter horror but Maggie just laughed, crouching down in front of the boys.

“Not quite,” she glanced back at Ken who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him, “He’s a good lookin’ guy though, right?” She jested and the two boys nodded in agreement, only for Ken’s cheeks to blush even darker.

“Well…” Ken cleared his throat, “I, umm… I should probably get back to work,” he mumbled, picking up his toolbox and trailing off behind the Fort.

Maggie winked at the two boys, before standing up, brushing off her overalls. She walked around the Fort, trailing her fingers along the riveted metal body.

Kenny was fiddling with one of the magnetos, his back turned to Maggie as she approached him.

“I hope I didn’t offend you in any way,” she spoke softly, resting her hand cautiously on his shoulder. He jumped lightly before turning to face her, shaking his head.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, I’m just not who you think I am…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” Maggie plonked herself down on the frame behind her, observing Kenny as he exhaled slowly. His forehead creased and in that moment Maggie saw he looked far older than his years.

“Maggie,” he began, taking his hands in hers, “I’m not some hotshot pilot, I’ve not got an important job navigating like Harry, I’m not special and I just don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“Wrong impression about what, Ken? We barely know each other, how could I get the wrong impression of you? You seem like a sweet man, I’d really like to get to know you better,” Maggie paused, squeezing his hand, “And as for the pilot thing, they aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, trust me.”

Ken chuckled, looking up and finally meeting Maggie’s eyes, “So don’t doubt yourself, Ken. I’m ground crew too, and if anything it means that we can spend more time together when the crews are out.”

Ken grinned, “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Exactly, you can see I’m the brains of the operation between Archie and me.”

“Well I’d say you have the brains and the beauty,” Ken replied shyly, biting his lips a little and causing Maggie’s heart to race faster.

“You’re not like other men, Ken Lemmons, and that’s a good thing,” she hopped on the frame, grabbing Ken’s hand, “Come on, we shouldn’t keep your friends waiting.”

As they rounded the nose of the Fort the two boys were wearing expectantly, the two dogs at their sides.

“Are you his girlfriend now?” Sammy asked, grinning widely and pointing at their joined hands.

Ken laughed heartily, “Sammy, the second I get a girlfriend you will be the first to know, I promise.”

This answer seemed to satisfy the young boy who returned to his spot on the grass beside Meatball.

Maggie peeked at Ken, catching his eye with a small smirk. It occurred to Maggie then that maybe this was the start of a beautiful friendship, but as her mind drifted to a certain clumsy navigator with a charming smile she realised things may be more complicated than she first thought.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries @vera-keller

[ninjagirlstar5]

This boy really tried to be a hero and save his friends, only for everything to backfire on him, huh?

Anyways, Yamato's design didn't really change all that much. Honestly, I thought it was good even if it didn't completely scream inventor or anything. He looks like teenager being inspired to dress up like his favorite Jojo character and I respect that, tbh. His design slays while turning it into his own. And it kinda fits since it's apparent that he likes anime or similar media at the start of Chapter 6 with the way he introduced himself, but he obviously only acts that way due to the brain damage (that is probably not written very well, I think). The most I changed was the colors and added a bit more detail to his coat or changing small details like the shoulder pads on his...well, shoulders. His button-up became a dark gray, he looks like he's wearing jeans instead of white dress-up pants which I feel like fits him more, white sneakers, and changed certain colors. Like, seriously. Why is the handkerchief in his pocket both blue AND red? The red doesn't even pop up anywhere else. And for some reason the top part of his coat collar is silver??? When it's probably suppose to be the same blue of his undercoat?? At least if you're gonna make it a different color, use the gold you're already using with his shoulder pads! Anyways, I gave him goggles which I have them hanging on his hat (which I just traced, tbh, hats are the bane of my existence next to hands). The goggles are to tie in his Ultimate Inventor status and I desaturated his eyes just a tiiiiny bit. And with his hatless sprite, he is done! Also, I ended up darkening his skin. Cause...why not.

Anyways, I've been struck with the idea of Yamato reuniting with the class at the end of Chapter 3 but still suffering from his brain damage so he struggles to communicate anything, let alone the whole Plot(TM) with amnesia in the mix, but also letting us spend more time with him and see his personality peak through more with flaws and all and actually being able to interact with the others more, especially Rei and Teruya, and maybe have his FTEs developed more by dropping hints about his family, especially about how he feels about the divorce he and his dad went through (which is canon in his concept art as LINUJ specifically wrote it like that), and his regrets in how he treated Mikako at first and how he rejected her at first, which is probably the same as his father cause divorce is not easy for everyone, especially the kids, and how getting older and becoming kinder as he matured fuels him to try and be a better person and protect others, in this essay, I will-

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Genius Florist (Killshot, Part 1.)

Description: The occupation as a member of SAS came along with many restrictions and rules one had to follow to a dot. It could get even more intense for a soldier carrying a lot of trauma and not enough self-love, if any at all. Thank God, this lonely soldier meets a lonely florist one day, and as they say - animals have the best judge of character.

Part Summary: Johnny MacTavish was about to make the most important step of his life and asked one of his best mates and boss to come along. Unexpectedly, the day brings a new hope at rekindling old relationships and making new ones.

A/N: For some unknown reason, my brain blipped and decided to give the reader glasses. It is for you to decide if she's having them on at work only or if she wears them all the time... Or whether she wears them at all. Also, the cover of Modern Warfare 2: Ghost eludes me to believe that Simon likes a cig or two every now and then. I wouldn't assume he's a regular smoker, but he defo likes to light one up when he drinks or feels like there's too much on his shoulders.

Word count: 6.5K

Tagging: x​

Master list: H E R E | Ghost's tapes: P L A Y L I S T

Never in his lifetime would Simon Riley imagine he’d been caught doing this. Frankly, he’d be rather caught dead than doing whatever this was. Deep inside, very deep, he was honoured to be chosen for this opportunity. The main cameraman, Johnny exclaimed jokingly, making Simon roll his eyes. Soap knew he got him hooked right then and there. On the other hand, Simon wouldn't ever imagine Johnny MacTavish getting into a very serious relationship with a Brit; mainly due to Johnny's everlasting ramblings about how the Brits in his unit are the bane of his existence. That changed when Soap met her; a wonderful, smart, and beautiful lass named Cassie. She was, according to her own words, the happiest and luckiest gal in the whole wide world thanks to Johnny.

Sure, Simon couldn’t really comprehend how it was even possible for someone as idiotic as Soap to make such a wonderful woman this content, but he didn’t dig into it much. If anything, it was endearing watching the two slowly fall deeper and deeper into each other. However, in the beginning, Simon had difficult time warming up to Cassie and her presence. By now, he was more or less comfortable around her and accepted her as an extended part of Johnny himself. The lass taught MacTavish how to be more extroverted and slowly let him blossom under her influence. Their happiness couldn't be measured.

He first met Cassie a year back. The night they'd been introduced in a pub was certainly a night to remember. Simon spent most of the time staring into his glass of whiskey, listening to the chatter around him, chuckling under his baklava - the unit members invited were interviewing poor Cassie as if their lives depended on it. Johnny, to make known that he was there for her the entire time, laughed along happily and jumped in whenever the question seemed inappropriate. Johnny's palm ran up and down her upper thigh under the table the whole time. This intimate gesture was saved only for lovers. At first, Simon didn’t overthink it; yet the longer he bore witness to said gesture, the more it itched itself into the back of his head. Needless to say, he was the first to leave that evening, packing his stuff in a rush just so he wouldn’t intrude for much longer.

As he walked home, Simon tried to reflect on what could be the reason behind him suddenly getting so upset over a sign of affection - he witnessed it all the time. Strangers out in public were hugging, holding hands, kissing and always making out. It was easy to dissociate from random strangers. The dissociation became harder the moment it was one of his closest comrades who found his soulmate. The way he talked about her with the boys, the tone of his voice when he called her just to hear how her day was, the newly found glimpse of courage in his eyes each time they were about to enter the battlefield… That was the moment Simon halted and took in a sharp breath.

This, this was the root of the problem, Simon realized. What they had was, to a tee, something Simon longed for in his deepest, darkest fantasies - someone to lean into, someone to laugh about everyday ordinary bollocks with, someone to dance to tacky songs with. Someone to hold, cherish and love for the rest of his life. That one special lass who’d be waiting for him at their apartment after a long deployment. The one who’d love his face no matter how many scars would pile up on it in the coming years. Someone he could cook with, and share his space with without fear or regrets. And maybe even… Simon shook his head. No, imagining a smaller version of himself running around the apartment was a bit too far-fetched, even for him. He could barely imagine dating, so jumping straight to kids was a rather rushed conclusion. This was his little impossible fantasy that was to never come true.

The older Simon got, the louder this longing got - the harder it was to ignore. He wasn’t getting any younger, it felt like he was running out of time. Not ever building himself a proper future was something he thought he was already settled with... But now that MacTavish got himself something Simon would trade his existence for, and it seemed to be working seemingly flawlessly… Why couldn’t Simon do the same? Could he still excuse his loneliness with his work? Hardly, Johnny was making it work even through their occupation. Maybe it was time to pour himself a glass of wine - Simon Riley was unable to start and maintain a meaningful human connection. As soon as he got intimate with anyone outside his unit, all of his alarms started to ring and red flags rose before he and the person got truly intimate. Knowingly, he forbade himself from such a life, mainly due to his duty to the crown. Another fact playing a huge role in all of this was his past and all the demons that refused to stay hidden in the shadows.

Poor Cassie was hot on her heels to bring the boys a pie she baked later in the evening - she approached Simon and apologized for the night before. She didn't know if she'd done something inappropriate to upset him or if she said something wrong... But the pie symbolized a peace offering. The white flag of truce, that's how Cassie phrased it. Poor lass didn't know it was Simon roasting himself mentally. She had nothing to do with his temper or bad mood. If anything, it would've been more appropriate for Simon to bake at least three pies for her. She deserved it more. Each time Ghost thought of this moment, recalling as Cassie watched him with tears in her eyes hoping she'd be forgiven for nothing, he had to smile. He made a new friend that morning. A genuine friend outside the unit - now, Cassie checked on him regularly, always trying to woo super-secret information out of him, something dragging him for a hangout with her and Johnny. Sometimes, Cassie would succeed with extorting the information even out of someone as stoic as Simon was (for example, Cassie was one of the only two people who knew about Simon's soft spot for kittens and puppies), sometimes she'd 'fail miserably', to quote her (she once tried to ask about the type of women Simon was into, possibly leading into setting up a date for him if he wasn't careful enough).

One question still remained - why, for the love of God, was Simon chosen to keep MacTavish company while he picks out the bouquet of flowers for his proposal? Why did Johnny honour him by giving him the position of the cameraman? It was around noon. By this point, Johnny had shoved the diamond ring in Simon's face at least fifteen times. This morning alone. Simon hadn't even bothered counting how many times he saw the small piece of jewellery in the past months during their deployment. Soap kept the ring on him the entire time, telling the lads that Cassie would love the idea of him holding onto the ring during the most intense moments of his life. MacTavish proclaimed this a sign of devotion and love, Riley a sign of idiocy and madness.

“Are you sure we’re heading in the right direction?” - The masked man asked his comrade as he watched him shove the ring back into his jacket. Soap glanced at him mindlessly, looking around for a bit. “Positive, Ghost. My soon-to-be mum-in-law tipped me off to go to this particular shop on this particular day. There’s this genius florist whom she orders bouquets from all the time, said they were the nicest she’d ever seen. Should be riiiiight…” - MacTavish checked his phone again, poking his head around the corner to see if he was right. - “There.”

Both army men stopped in their tracks to look at the flower shop properly. The place looked awfully inviting and sunny even though it was located five minutes away from Soho. This place simply begged for the standbys to look inside and give it a try, it asked to be explored. The shop bore similarity to an intimate greenhouse in the middle of the concrete jungle of London. Ghost immediately noticed that even most people visiting the café on the other side of the street glanced inside the secluded space dreamily. The greenhouse wasn't walled off by concrete, instead, huge portions of said walls were made out of glass, showing the ridiculous amount of flowers, decorations and fairy lights hung all over the interior. Among cut flowers, the shop also offered a fair amount of succulents and exotic flowers delicately placed into either elegant or colourful, almost childish pots. Amid this chaos, there was a desk, a countertop to be precise, with azure colour painted all across it. Name of the flower shop? Rosemary’s. Simply Rosemary’s. Who was Rosemary? No clue.

The two gentlemen entered the shop while chatting, making sure to close the door behind them - the weather was cold and gloomy, and there was this omnipresent darkness even though it was barely 1 p.m. Funnily enough, the mood outside didn’t make it inside in any way, shape of form. The temperature and humidity were taken up to 11 inside the shop, presumably to keep all the exotic plants and succulents in good shape. The cut flowers didn't seem to mind at all, they looked perfectly fresh - as if the florist had just come back from picking them on a meadow.

To be honest, Simon never appreciated places like these. He preferred his shops of choice dark and anonymous, places where no one could recognise him. He preferred to be just a face in the crowd, even though his baklava made him stick out like a sore thumb most of the time. In his eyes, these shops always came across as a tidbit tasteless. On top of that, the mentioned so-called florist genius was playing some tacky 2010s playlist, seemingly grooving to it while walking around the shop, checking on the flowers. - "I'll be right with ya, gentlemen! Just need to find a white ribbon in the back!"

The bouquet on the countertop, of course, Simon assumed. She needed it to finish MacTavish's order - the main skeleton was already being put together with white roses, pure white Transvaal daisies and the brightest lillies Simon ever laid his eyes upon. From the intel he gathered, MacTavish and this mysterious florist spent hours discussing the meaning and design of the bouquet, each flower spelling out different meanings and promises. Promises for Cassie which Johnny meant to keep. What were the meanings and promises? Sadly, Ghost didn't remember a word from Soap's comprehensive speech. Next to the skeleton of the flower, there were also a few decorations laid out as if the florist couldn't precisely decide which to pick. If Simon had to pick, he would go for the small branches spray painted to a subtle silver colour with pears glued on. He'd rather let the florist decide, though.

As Simon wandered off, looking at all the types of succulents, he almost missed a small ball of energy running between his legs. After he looked down and focused on it, he realized it was just a little puppy. A very energetic one... A very happy one, to say the least. "Hey, miss?" - He cried out, catching both her and MacTavish's attention. The moment Johnny set his eyes on the dog, he lowered himself down, letting out a sigh of adoration. The puppy didn't waste a second before running off to Johnny's arms, enjoying all the pets and scratches it got out of him. Simon let out a silent chuckle as he watched one of his best friends mumbling nonsense to the puppy, being enamoured by it. - "Is this puppy yours?" "Oh, yes, I'm so sorry. Does it bother you?" "Not in the slightest!" - Johnny cried out happily, picking the dog into his arms.

Finally, you walked out of the facilities, closing the door behind you, white expansive ribbon in your palm. Seeing that your puppy is in good hands, you knew you didn't have to take it back there just yes. "How can I help you today, gentleman?" - You asked, smiling widely at them. Since this was none of Simon's business, he continued with looking at all the types of succulents Rosemary's had on display, listening to your conversation with Johnny. - "Are we looking for any special flowers? For your mum perhaps? Or something more... Special? For a girlfriend, maybe? I can make it all happen." "Actually, name's MacTavish? The bouquet you're finishing should be the one I ordered a week ago, yeah?" "Is it already 1 p.m.?" - You mumbled back in utter horror, presumably checking your wristwatch. As you gasped and started giggling nervously, it could be heard you were unnerved. - "I'm so sorry Mr. MacTavish. I should've had your order ready, but Bonnie gave me a run for my money earlier this morning. She wasn't feeling too good and I was scared because she's just a puppy... And now I'm just late for everything and looking like a blithering idiot. But yes, this is the bouquet, it should be ready in the next ten to fifteen minutes." "This little rascal gave you that much trouble, eh? Who could be even remotely mad at this little bundle of joy?" - MacTavish continued fluently, lovingly caressing the puppy. - "Also, that works for me, then. Me and the arse over there wanted to go for a cuppa anyway. Now, we have an excuse for it."

"Mhm." - You agreed. - "The café on the other side of the street is a killer. I'd kill for their croissants and chai latté, trust me. You're in for a treat..." - Then, both you and Johnny tailed off the rails, talking about Bonnie and her stomach ache. In the spawn of a minute, MacTavish jumped to your music choice - asking about what were you listening to. With a quiet giggle, you told him it was some mid-2010s band Simon had probably never heard about. "Really?" - John wondered, laughing unbelievably. - "Haven't heard them in ages! Wow, I feel ancient. I used to love them." "Sex on Fire is their biggest hit, in my opinion, but I could name a few..." - That was when Simon turned around to tell MacTavish they should leave you to your work if he wants the fucking bouquet finished today. That was when he first laid his eyes on you. Properly. Without your back turned to him or being hidden away inside the employees' facility.

The was... Something. Something in the way your expression changed as you spoke with Johnny, laughing at his responses. The lights flashing in your eyes revealed all the passion and thoughtfulness that you neatly hid away. Something in the way your body moved on its own as you gestured; Simon liked this part of you. It felt warm, inviting and welcoming, friendly almost... Even though you had never met Johnny in your life, you've chatted about like a pair of old friends. It was the complete opposite of all the feelings Simon's presence evoked. Something so delightful and beautiful about the way you presented yourself, about your hairstyle, the glasses framing your face, the way your working apron sat on your body, showing the white t-shirt tucked under as well as the jeans pants poking from under it. There was a moment when Simon's body forgot how to breathe entirely. The whole entirety of you was absolutely fucking stunning. This was Simon's first impression of you summed up.

That was when you looked back at him, still smiling from ear to ear. The world froze for a second and stopped turning as Simon stared at you intensely, knitting his brows together, puzzled at all the intense emotions tingling and brewing inside his chest. As Simon blinked, he realized you were clearly talking to him. "Are you okay?" - You asked, giggling nervously. This brought MacTavish's attention to Simon as well. John smiled his way, still cradling Bonnie in his arms. "Oh, he does this all the time. Don't worry about it, he's actually a sweetheart." - The other part Johnny whispered to you, making you laugh as you shook your head.

As you watched Simon back, there was something about the intensity in his stare. It was probably caused by his baklava - you couldn't see his expression, therefore you only had to judge his mood based on his warm brown eyes and light eyebrows knitted together. The intensity of said stare was powered by the frame and sheer size of this guy - not that you'd be the smallest bean walking the Earth, but there was something unnerving about the sheer size of his upper body, noticeably his arms. These bad boys seemed like they wouldn't have trouble smashing a pumpkin if he wanted to. And let's not start on his fucking thighs hugged by shabby, comfy pair of jeans. Naturally, MacTavish's 'he's actually a sweetheart' didn't have the intended calming effect.

"I was going to say that we better go fetch that cuppa if you'd like your bouquet done today." - Ghost spoke out finally, praying that his voice wouldn't give up on him now. - "All your bloody fucking blabbering keeps the poor lass away from work." "Oh, you're probably right, yeah." - MacTavish agreed, looking down at Bonnie. Simon heard you chuckle at their friendly banter; the sound made one corner of Simon's mouth twitch upwards. - "Would your mummy let you out for a short walkie with your newest uncle, huh?" - The man mumbled, glancing over at you. Even before Ghost said a word, you could see him performing a well-trained, yet nonetheless impressive eye-roll upon Johnny's words. "I wouldn't entrust this man with an animal. He'll refuse to give it back, he always does." - Simon butted in and gave Bonnie a scratch because she, indeed, was too adorable. You didn't answer Johnny's request, you simply fetched the leash from your backpack. "Bonnie has a great judge of character... Well, better than her mum anyway. I'll let my girly out with you under one condition - you'll stay right in my field of sight so I know she's safe, yeah? Don't forget I have your number, Mr MacTavish." - The last part was said in the sweetest tone imaginable, but your expression was warning Johnny, promising him many consequences in case anything happened to the dog. As expected from a soldier, Johnny saluted you, adding a: "Ma'am, yes, ma'am" before departing by Simon's side.

Around fifteen minutes had passed since the two left you to work - now, both of them were standing outside, at the edge of your vision field hidden away from the other customers. They each bought themselves a hot drink to sip on as they watched over Bonnie being the most adorable and curious little bean. The feelings tightening around Simon's chest were too much to simply breathe through. Even though he wasn't the happiest about this bad habit of his, he was now smoking a cig with his baklava slightly lifted up. Johnny knew better than to look at him, even though there wasn't much to see other than Ghost's lips and his chin glazed by light stubble.

"Did we get it right?" - Johnny wondered quietly, checking the receipt stapled onto a small paper bag he was holding in his palm. Simon glanced over at his comrade, too preoccupied with watching you at work. There was a furrow on your face as you tied the ribbon around the base masterfully, finishing your last touches; to Simon's pleasure, you went for the elegant silver branched, masterfully sliding in one after one, entwining in an enchanting way. Your lips were moving - either you talked to yourself while you worked or you sang along to yet another tacky song on your playlist. "Croissants and chai latté, that's what she said." - Simon let out almost thoughtlessly, being positive this was the go-to order you told Johnny about. Even though he met you ten minutes ago, this piece of information immediately carved itself into the back of Simon's mind.

As the two army men walked inside the warm, fuzzing café, their eyes fell on the menu immediately. There were so many forms of coffee to choose from, and the variety of coffee beans made the choice even more difficult. While Johnny loved coffee, especially the smell of it in the morning, Simon preferred tea. Not that he wouldn't go for coffee every once in a while, but... That was why he stuck to your recommendation. "How may I help you?" - The barista asked, not even bothering to hide that the sight of Simon unnerved her. Nothing to wonder about, Simon gave strong robber vibes to most of the people he met. "Hello. I'd like to order a chai latté, heard a lot of praises 'bout it." - He mumbled loud enough for the lady to head it through the baklava. - "... Actually, make it two. Two large chai lattés and... Are you out of croissants? Can't see them anywhere." "You're lucky, sir. We just finished baking a fresh batch, right from the oven. How many would you like?" "Four, thank you." - Simon ended the exchange, putting the payment on the countertop without waiting for the change back. The barista's behaviour towards Johnny switched a complete 180° - even more so thanks to the cute puppy in his arms. Soon enough, MacTavish joined Simon in the order queue, both men holding a small pink paper with their order summary on it.

"I've never seen you eat croissants." - Johnny remarked matter-of-factly. Simon didn't respond straight away, shrugging his shoulders at first. "It's not for me." - He explained simply. "... Never seen you drink chai latté either. Were you even aware of its existence?" "The florist talked highly of it and I wasn't in the mood for coffee. Also, she let you borrow her dog, figured would be a nice gesture to repay her somehow." - Again, enough of a simple explanation... Except for all the ulterior motives brewing right under the surface. "I see, you're right, as usual. Should've thought of that, mate. Let's hope we got her order right." - Johnny wondered. Simon hummed, not giving MacTavish any sort of an answer. Simon was positive the order was right - the entire conversation you and Johnny had was itched into the back of his brain.

"We got it right, I'm assuring you for the thousandth and last time." "Right, right." - Johnny waved him off, picking Bonnie off the ground - the puppy was now super-dirty and wet since it devoted its energy to running through every puddle in their radius. - "Hadn't seen you smoking in a long time. Something on your mind, beautiful?" "Not much just stressed about my performance." - Simon replied, his tone of voice not giving MacTavish much room for thought. "Hm?" - Johnny wondered. - "As in the tests or..." "I'm a shit cameraman." - Ghost admitted quietly. For a bit, there was comfortable silence between the two old pals before Johnny started snickering to himself. "For all I care, film your devilishly handsome face for the sake of it, I'll be equally happy with simply having the audio. Even just the part where Cassie says yes." "Oh, now you have an idea for what you're gonna get as your wedding gift." "Now I'm scared, Ghost." "Three whole seconds of my face in its full glory, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, won't ever show it to you again." "Well, that's honouring. Cassie will be so jealous, I'll tell you that much." "Awh, no, the bride gets to see my devilishly handsome face anytime she asks me to." "Cheeky little bastard." - Johnny laughed, watching as your palm skillfully wrapped the bouquet into a protective foil. In a few minutes, you were to be done and the delivery would be completed. After this, there wasn't a singular reason Simon could bump into you 'accidentally'. He wasn't much of a flower guy, mainly due to being deployed for long periods of time. If he were to buy flowers, he wouldn't have anyone to ask to take care of them. By all means, these plants would be better off with anyone else than Simon.

"This thing that the bonnie wee lass said stuck in my head." - Johnny admitted suddenly, capturing Simon's attention. Again, he didn't look his way but hummed so MacTavish would know he was listening. - "The puppy is a good judge of character... Better than her mum anyway." "She could mean anything by that." "Do you think someone's troubling her?" - MacTavish wondered out loud. When the florist said this, Simon simply assumed she was making a subtle joke. The connotations Johnny gave to the statement... Was someone troubling you? Was it a personal dispute? Was it a guy that's been bothering you? Or was just MacTavish whisking some drama that wasn't real to begin with? "I'd assume that's not exactly our business, mate. We might be SAS, but that doesn't mean we have to mingle with every personal dispute we come across." - Simon answered after taking a moment to think it through. Johnny nodded in agreement - what Simon said was reasonable. "All and all, the florist was right. The puppy has a great judge of character, isn't that right?" - The last part was meant for the puppy as MacTavish lowered his head, nuzzling its wet fur with his nose. "Now that's narcissistic." - Ghost remarked, amusement clear in his voice. "I'm talking about how it nearly peed your pants with excitement. This little bundle of joy instantly adored you." - Johnny concluded, watching as Simon flicked the cig. - "We should go. The florist seems to be done."

The result was otherworldly. Any woman would be lucky to receive this bouquet - it was done with a lot of care, attention and balance, and even the smallest details bore signs of being masterfully crafted. "How did you manage to craft this?" - MacTavish breathed out in awe, letting Bonnie off the leash - the pup immediately ran to greet you, wettening your jeans in the process. Simon, even though he wouldn't assume himself to be appreciative of any sort of art, couldn't but stare at it. While he let Johnny do the talking, Simon drowned his sight in you and your masterpiece; the way your eyes lit up upon seeing Johnny's reaction, the wave of giddiness taking over you when he started wowing and swing made him smile under the baklava. "A lot of patience, studies, practice..." - You named out, laughing. - "... To be frank, it's just that I know that my art will make someone very happy. I tend to pour a lot of energy into each bouquet that I sell. Maybe a bit too much at times, but the results are always worth the time and effort." "What's the total?" - Johnny asked impatiently, pulling out his wallet. Cassie would be through the roof as soon as she laid her eyes on the flower, Johnny was sure of it. "Well, I did my best to cut on some costs, but it's still an eternal romance bouquet, so... 180 pounds." "Make it 210. Ms Y/L/N... This is incredible. I can see why my mum-in-law talked about you this highly. She's a regular and she insisted that you, and only you, could make a bouquet for this occasion. As per usual, she was right."

"Mums-in-law love to hear they're right, you're on the right track here. Also, that's very kind of her. Might I ask... I don't want to pry, but who's the bouquet for? I might know the lucky gal since you've mentioned her mum is a regular?" - You wondered, counting the cash Johnny handed you. 30 pounds in tips sure was nice... Nothing you'd personally agree with, though. It was sweet that Mr MacTavish was this happy about the result, but this amount was too high for your liking. Yet, when you tried to give the money back to him, Johnny just stubbornly slipped the tip right back to you.

"My fiancé-to-be is Cassie Neil. She's a Londoner through and through, but goddamnit, she reeled my arse right in." "You're joking! No way..." - The shock in your voice was immeasurable as you opened your mouth in disbelief. - "Me and Cass were high school classmates! Until she left to study in France, we'd been best friends. We're still in touch, not as much as we used to be, though. Sometimes, she stops by to say hi, bringing me some of her famous gingerbread. The last time she stopped by, she blabbered about a Scot who stole her heart away. You must be the mysterious man." As you've said, Cass stopped by recently, maybe around a month ago, going off about this Johnny guy whom she'd been seeing for the past ten months. She mentioned that he was military, a part of the SAS - she explained that their speciality is close combat and hostage rescue. Presumably, Mr MacTavish and his buddy were both a part of it... That explained the baklava covering the man's face. "Oh, so you're the mysterious Y/N! My name's Johnny, love, hi. Wondered to whom she brings the best pieces in the batch." "What a coincidence..." - You giggled, your face getting flushed. - "If I'd knew you'd been sent by good old Mrs Neil, I'd give you a discount. I feel so stupid now."

"Nonsense." - Simon suddenly chimed in, making both of you look up to him. It was highly uncommon for Simon to speak out of terms, the self-control coming with a lieutenant position often held him back. If anything, Johnny believed that Simon is more of an 'I'll say my peace after the rest is said and done' kind of guy. - "Your work's valued exactly how it should be. I don't know much about flower arranging, but this is a masterpiece by all means. There is no reason for a discount. We've, ugh... By the way, we've got you something over at the bakery." - The man added, handing you the paper bag. "Um, thank you for the compliment, sir. Wait... Is this what I think it is?" - Excitedly, you accepted the paper bag right out of Simon's hand; when your skin brushed his, he felt a spark of electricity running right through. It left behind a trace of enjoyable tingling lingering on his skin.

You, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice, being over the moon thanks to their generosity. - "Get outta here, you guys are the best. Hadn't even time to order a takeout, so these will come in handy. Thank you so much." "Ghost here said it's for entrusting us with your sweet little puppy." - Johnny explained, carefully accepting the bouquet you handed over to him. Both of you concentrated on the task at hand while still chatting. "If lending you my pup makes you guys buy me lunch each time, you might as well walk her every day." - You chuckled. Bonnie, as if she sensed she was the topic of conversion, stumbled onto the scene and started to nuzzle Simon's boots once more. This time, however, her look of adoration was too much - the man kneeled and started to pet her. You'd both taken note of the action, smiling without commenting on it. - "But no, you might not keep her, Mr MacTavish." "Oh, jobby. I'll try another time then." - Johnny laughed. - "Also, my lass's friends are friends of mine. Call me Johnny." - The man said, offering you his palm. Without too much thought, you shook it.

"Name's Y/N, hi." - You said, still smiling from ear to ear. Then, you turned your attention to Simon since it would be rather inappropriate to just leave him out. - "And you might be?" As Simon looked at your palm, he tried to figure out which name should he give you - Lieutenant Riley? No, that would make him an egotistical jerk. Simon? No, that would be too personal. Ghost was all that remained as an acceptable option. - "Ghost, a pleasure to meet you." "Pleasure's on my side, Ghost. The two of you gotta let me know how it all went. Every last bit of detail, deal? Also, tell Cassie I'm happy for her and send my best regards. This is huge news." "I'll entrust Ghost with showing you the footage. Or stop by myself. He's my cameraman." - MacTavish explained simply, having Simon grunt in agreement. With a quiet 'awwww', you nodded - suddenly, Ghost's presence made a whole lot more sense. The man didn't appear to be comfortable inside Rosemary's, he seemed like he didn't want to be there. The two must've been great friends, then; usually, the cameramen went on to be the best men. "That's nice of you, Ghost. Also, it's assuring to know both Johnny and Cass have the best people looking out for them."

"We should be on our merry way now. You better make sure you're free this time around next year." - Johnny exclaimed, half-jokingly. - "In one year's time to the day, I'm making this lass my wife." "Is this an invitation or a job offer?" "Could we make it both, Y/N?" "That would be great. Can't wait to hear from you! Bye!"

The entire proposal went wonderfully - Cassie's sister came along, and Kyle and Price also took part in it since Cassie wholeheartedly believed that Johnny's unit was like his family and believed this would be simply a "dinner". Simon was smiling under his baklava the entire time, watching both of his best friends slowly becoming a mumbling, sniffling, crying happy mess. Simon filmed the entirety of it, he also made sure he'd have the best angle possible. Of course, Cassie immediately let out a shaky 'Of course, you dimwit' before hugging Soap passionately. Now, all of them were sitting around the table while waiting for their dinner to arrive. Johnny invited everyone for a glass and some food in one of the more expansive spots in London, making sure this would be a night to remember. Cassie and Nelly were all over the bouquet, gushing over how perfect it was.

Ghost was talking to Price, ensuring he wouldn't have time to talk to Nelly. While he adored Cass from the bottom of his heart, Simon was well aware of the reasoning for Nelly joining them - Cassie had been trying to hook the two up for a fair share of time by that point. As soon as Johnny started talking about the florist and her masterpiece, Simon's ears sharpened, and the conversation between him and Price was long forgotten. "Who made it?" - Cassie gushed with adoration, carefully caressing one of the silver-coated branches woven into between the flowers. "A friend of yours worked on it." - Johnny teased, winking in her direction. - "Your mum referenced Rosemary's and once I saw it, I had to give the props. Y/N is a fuckin' genius." - He explained, smiling happily upon seeing Cassie's mouth open wide.

"That explains everything." "Hell yeah." - Nelly chimed in, nodding. - "I remember when she started to fiddle around with flowers back when she and sis went to high school together. Even back then, her bouquets were just... Different. Always hoped the guy I dated would buy me on hers. Hadn't been that lucky so far." - She mumbled, shooting a quick glance over to Simon. As previously, he did his best to ignore Nelly's advances; it almost felt like Nelly was trying to give Simon a tip about how to impress her. As if. "Never got an answer to why that was, though. Y/N can barely keep up a serious face and hates accepting praises and compliments. The only explanation she ever meant was 'It's because I talk to the flowers, and they carry out my best wishes to whoever they are given to', I think." - Cassie sighed dreamily, playing with the engagement ring on her finger. Oh. The way your lips moved gently as you were finishing the bouquet, Simon recalled - you did talk to your flowers. - "Ugh, I awfully miss her at times. Petty she's so reluctant to go out with me lately, we used to be best friends. I'll have to give her a call."

Upon hearing this, Johnny glanced over to Simon quickly, he didn't even need to add anything. ... better than her mum is, anyway. Reluctance to go out with someone you used to be extremely close to even though you and Cass still felt good about your friendship. Do you think someone's troubling her? Knowing Y/N's best friend was safe made her genuinely relieved. Perhaps, there was something about the sentence after all. "We can invite her to our next hangout?" - Johnny offered immediately, having Cassie's face lit up. "You wouldn't mind?" "No!" - Johnny exclaimed. - "The lass seems fun, I already told her that the friends of my friends are my friends too... And I promised that I'd do my damnest to steal her dog away from her, have you seen that bonnie little she-devil?"

As the dinner carried on, the conversation was lively, flowing very nicely. After getting his hands on his glass of whiskey, Simon tuned out the surroundings, to be honest. His brain registered their laughter and chatter, but it felt as if his head was stuck under the water - he was going over Y/N, and he couldn't get her out of his head. Everything about her was freaking Simon out - the sound of her voice, her laughter and giggles, the curve and apparently plushness of her lips. The joy radiating out of her upon watching Johnny in awe. A hint of softness upon realizing why Ghost was accompanying his comrade - a glimpse of interest, he realized as he finished the glass, putting it back on the table. It could be the slight kick of the alcohol or his imagination making it up, but he'd swear he saw a glimpse of interest in your eyes. Pushing forward and drinking some more, Simon's brain kept trying to decipher the throwaway line that could be meant as a joke - ... better than her mum, anyway. It was decided right there and then.

Simon would try his best to create a situation in which you'd accidentally bump into each other just so he could see you again.

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Hello, I would like to make an order so it is not a bother.

I wish it was tim drake x male reader.

I would like the reader to be the son of deathstroke and for the two to be in a relationship, but for none of the members of the batfamily to know about the relationship (for obvious reasons)

I would like the batfam to be on a mission and for the reader to be seriously injured and for tim to care about him without caring that others find out about their relationship.

If you could do some scenes of how they met, along with some "fluff" scenes (either in some flashback or during the reader's recovery from his injuries) and the reactions of the members of the batfam (maybe slade as well, rose or respawn) would be awesome.

Also, if you want to make it inspired by a comic or that the reader has some power, no problem.

I hope I have not bothered you.

First love to change the world (Tim Drake x M!Reader)

whoo requests are back!

Am I super proud of this? not really but it's cute and it was hella fun to write anyways.

Also it took me forever to come up with a name for the reader's villain persona that matched Deathstroke so yall better enjoy it/j

Word count: 2.8k

Main Masterlist

The first time you met Tim Drake was when he was going by Red Robin. You'd met a few times and he'd been the bane of your existence. You were just trying to live your life, even if that life was as a mercenary and gun for hire.

Tim had tried to stop you from completing your job a few times, sometimes he succeeded, mostly he didn't.

It was on a quiet night in paris- one of the times he hadn't managed to stop you from getting to your target- that he sat down on the roof from which you sniped down someone's former employee. You tried not to ask too many questions about your targets. It made the job easier.

"Why do you do it? What did that man do that he deserved to die?" He asked and you shrugged as you slung your rifle over your back.

"I don't ask. I wouldn't be a good killer if I let my heart stop me from doing jobs" You told him quietly and he looked at you almost pitifully.

"You're not like him. You don't enjoy hurting people, so why do you do it?" He asked and you stared him down.

"Like who?" You ask even though you knew exactly who Tim was referring to.

"You're not like Deathstroke" He said as he stood up to block your way and you laughed.

"And you're not like Batman. If he was here I'd be in handcuffs already" You said, sarcasm dripping from your voice. You lowered your voice as you walked past him.

"You're weak." You said and he grabbed your wrist.

"Why did you kill that man?" He asked you and you pulled your wrist free.

"It's what some rich asshole paid me to do, why do you care? If you're not going to try and arrest me leave me alone." You told him but before you could leave he grabbed your shoulder.

"You don't have to waste your life killing people" He said, trying to convince you but you shrugged his hand off.

"Not many places will have the wanted son of the most renowned mercenary in the underworld, but thanks for the life advice Tim" You said and jumped to the next rooftop.

He looked at you bewildered and you smirked.

You'd run into Tim a few times after that, slowly things became more and more civil- even friendly between the two of you.

You never told anyone, not that you had many friends or family to tell and your father would have had your head for your growing friendship and feelings for Tim.

Tim did the same, none of his brothers or friends knew about his friendship or growing feelings for you. For all his flaws Tim was very good at keeping secrets.

The two of you knew how to keep secrets and communicated in ways that couldn't be tracked by your families: burner phones, secret non regular meeting spots, and flirty bickering when you met on the field. No one suspected a thing.

But all good things had to come to an end.

It wasn't often that you helped your father on missions but when he needed a second man for a job in Gotham you saw no reason not to go. Everything went according to plan until the bats showed up. Batman and Nightwing immediately went after Slade while you intercepted Damian.

You unsheathed your swords and went on the offensive.

"Surrender Deathblade, you don't stand a chance!" Damian said as he blocked with his own sword.

"Against what? The Baby Robin?" You scoffed and continued your offensive.

"I don't think so baby face" You told him before throwing him off his balance and into and alley.

You were about to go help Slade when Nightwing split from his fight with him to stop you.

"You should've stayed home kid" He said as his escrima sticks collided with your swords.

"Nah, but it's- Dad behind you!" You screamed and Slade moved out of the way just in time to avoid Tim's Bo staff.

Dick took the chance to kick you off your balance and you tumbled back and over the ledge of the roof. You quickly pulled yourself up.

"Oh you're gonna pay for that" You said as you wiped blood from your nose away. One of the blood vessels must have ruptured in your tumble along with the bruised rib you felt as you stood back up. You've fought with worse so you simply kept going, racing back to confront Dick again when gunshots rang out and you noticed a nearby window was broken.

"Deathblade, the job's done! We're leaving!" Deathstroke called out to you and you changed course, running in the direction of your father.

He was still fighting Batman when a another shot rang out and you fell to your knees, grasping your side. You recognised the pain immediately but didn't understand where it came from. You saw Slade shoot at Batman- it took you a moment to realize the shot must have ricocheted. You held your side as the pain expanded and you heaved, looking at your father for help. He was still occupied with Batman but Tim- who had been trying to keep up with his mentor and Slade ran over to you.

"Deathblade!" He yelled as he came to your side.

You pushed him away.

"What are you doing?!" You tried to say, though it sounded more like a groan of pain. What was he doing? Both of your covers were about to be blown!

You tried to push him away but he wasn't having it.

"Y/N let me help you, please" He tried to tell you even as he fought your extended arms.

Tim's soft tone caught both Slade and Bruce's attention and you hissed in pain when he finally got you to lay down.

"They're gonna-" You tried to tell Tim but he cut you off.

"I don't care" Tim said and you didn't fail to notice the glare your father sent your way. Your rouse was up and you knew there was no going back when he used the opportunity to escape.

You cursed under your breath as you were left with Tim and the Bats.

Tim was soft in his actions, he took gauze from his utility belt and wrapped your chest as well as he could on the field. You felt the gazes of the rest of the bats as your boyfriend took such gentle care of you and you wished he hadn't done anything. You wished things could have stayed the same but you knew they were about to change drastically.

The judgemental silence was broken when Tim picked you up bridal style and you knew there was no arguing with him.

"Red Robin, what are you doing?" Batman asked him in the gravelly voice he probably used for interrogating criminals or scolding his robins as it seemed.

"I'm taking him to the cave. He needs medical attention" Tim told him confidently and you wanted to hide your head in the crook of your boyfriend's neck. The entire situation was making you the most uncomfortable you've ever felt.

"Absolutely not! Father Deathblade is a criminal!" Damian said and you groaned.

"A criminal who should have cut your tongue off when he had the chance you little twerp" You said smirking at Damian's enraged appearance.

It was getting harder to focus, you heard more talking but your brain couldn't interpret what they said over the pain in your chest. Tim's arms were so welcoming and you had to fight everything in you just to stay awake.

Soon you felt Tim start moving. You noticed Tim placing you in a car and covering your eyes but you couldn't focus on anything else. You felt Tim's gloved hands run through your hair and you thought you heard him telling you to rest but you weren't sure.

The next thing you know you're laying down on something soft. You could feel the pinch of a needle on your arm and the sound of overlapping voices hitting your ears.

"I'm not going to apologize! He's a good person and he needs our help" You heard Tim's voice say.

"He's a criminal Tim" You heard another voice, one you didn't recognize, respond.

"That's never stopped you" Tim replied and you heard another voice interrupted.

"He's Deathstroke's son" It said.

"I'd suggest you take it easy Mr. Wilson" an older man said. He spoke with a british accent and you had to squint to make out his face.

"L/N." You corrected.

"My name is Y/N L/N- not Wilson" You told him and he nodded, helping you sit up and handing you a cup of water.

"Well then Mr. L/N, you should take it easy. That bullet punctured your lung and you had multiple bruised ribs." He said as he helped you keep the cup to your lips.

"Where am I? Who are you?" You asked and the man- who wore an incredibly fancy black suit sat beside you.

"I am Alfred Pennyworth and at the moment you are in the Batcave" He explained.

"Master Timothy brought you here after you were shot" Alfred continued and you immediately realized what happened.

"I need to go" You said and did your best to get out of bed, you collapsed as soon as you tried to stand on your own. Alfred steadied you.

"I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that at the moment" He said but you tried anyway.

You noticed most of your suit has been cut off and you were left in only your pants as you limped towards where you saw Tim was with his family.

"Deathstroke shot him." Tim said and you heard another voice tut in annoyance as you got closer.

"How long has this been going on?" A voice you assumed belonged to Batman asked and Tim sighed.

"Six months" He said before he strengthened his resolve.

"But he's not like his father. I've seen it. He's just never known anything else from this" Tim said and you cleared your throat.

"He's also right here" you said and Tim's eyes widened as he ran to help you.

"What are you doing?" He asked and you smiled.

"I believe Mr. L/N said he needed to go" Alfred said from behind you.

"Though where you could go with a punctured lung and bruised ribs I wouldn't know" He said and you had to admit that this Alfred was really getting on your nerves.

You coughed as Tim tried to keep you from leaving.

"Tracker-" You said and coughed again.

"In my neck" You breathed out, even with increased healing your body wasn't ready for the amount of energy it would take to simply walk.

"He's gonna- he's gonna come here" You told Tim and he helped you sit down.

"I told you! He's going to lead Deathstroke right to us!" Damian exclaimed but Tim glared at him.

"Shut up Damian, he just warned us. Now go with Alfred and get a med kit" He told his brother before turning his attention back to you.

"Don't worry, we'll get it out" He told you and you sighed.

"You shouldn't have brought me here" You told Tim and he shushed you. "I wasn't going to leave you to bleed on that roof" He said and you smiled. "You're too good to me."

"You're important to me, I love you" He said and you chuckled. That was the first time he told you that. The first time anyone told you that they loved you, and in that moment you realized you would do anything for Tim.

"I love you too Bird boy" You said as you pulled him into a soft kiss.

You could feel the uncomfortable gazes and unsaid judgments from Tim's family but you couldn't care less. After all, Tim just saved you.

Alfred came back with the med kit and went to work with your instruction on removing the tracker.

"Why should we trust you?" Batman asked you and you could feel Tim tense beside you.

"Because my father just left me to die. If I had any loyalty to Slade Wilson I wouldn't have told you about the tracker" You told Batman and he nodded.

"I still don't like this, Slade's kids have made a habit of stabbing us in the back" Nightwing said and you scoffed.

"You mean the ones he cares about? Because Slade has about five kids from four different moms and he isn't shy about who his favorites are." Dick stared you down waiting for you to continue and you used all your strength to stand up and face him.

"He doesn't give half a shit about me if that's what you're worried about Grayson." You told him and you saw him flinch at the use of his name. He looked at Tim who shook his head. You'd known Dick's identity long before you and Tim got together.

"How do you know that name?" He asked and Tim helped you sit back down.

"Because my father hates you. Just like I know Damian's name. Or Jason's. You aren't particularly good at hiding your connection. The second someone knows one of you they'll know all of you" You told them and met Batman's eyes through his cowl.

"Either way your secret's safe with me. I don't have any interest in ousting my boyfriend's family as vigilantes" You told them.

Bruce took Tim aside to talk and left you with Dick. He took his mask off and sat down in front of you.

"If you don't like Deathstroke why do you work for him?" He asked and you scowled.

"With him." You corrected.

"I work with him occasionally because we're in the same business. I don't have any loyalty to him because he's a conceited asshole who doesn't care about me" You explained.

Dick took a moment to think.

"Tim said you only kill because you don't know anything else, is that true?" He asked and you rolled your eyes.

"Is this your version of the shovel talk?" You asked and you could see Dick was losing his patience.

"He's my brother and I can see he's happy with you but I still don't trust you." He said and he continued.

"Why do you kill people?" He asked and you took a moment to think. When you answered him your voice was even.

"I wasn't always like this. I used to take protection jobs mostly, bodyguard positions" You explained. "But I couldn't outrun his influence or reputation. Slade is- well his is a big shadow and no matter how much I wish it wasn't the case I'm his son." You explained and pointed to a small faded scar on your side.

"This was from my first job when I was 12, a bullet graze. He taught me hand to hand combat, blades, guns- anything I'd need to follow in his footsteps." You took a pause as you tried to keep your breathing even.

"I've never known anything but this." You told him and met his eyes.

"Tim saw the real me. For the first time in my life someone loves me because they see who I am beyond my family and my abilities and I would do anything for him." You told Dick and held his gaze until he finally responded.

He nodded and stood up.

"I'll help you back to your cot, I'm sure Tim and Bruce will be back soon"

-

You spent the next few days resting in the batcave. Bruce was adamant about you not entering the manor and you had no problem staying in the cave. Tim was by your side practically 24/7 and you had to admit that you appreciated the quality time with him.

With your enhanced healing factor your wounds healed quickly and within a few days you were almost fully healed.

You pulled on one of Tim's hoodies.

"You know you don't have to go yet, we could set up a guest room in the manor- or one of the safe houses in the city" Tim said and you smiled kissing his cheek.

"That's sweet of you Bird boy but I have to deal with this sooner rather than later" You told him.

"Comm me if things go wrong" He told you and you chuckled.

"Rose'll be with me so I think I'll be fine but I promise if something does go wrong you'll hear about it" You promised and pulled on a motorcycle jacket over the hoodie.

"This isn't the end love, I'll be back and we'll figure things out" You told Tim and he smiled, pulling you into a final goodbye kiss.

"See you soon Bird boy" You said as you got on the bike and sped out of the cave.

What Tim did on that rooftop changed your life forever but you wouldn't change it for the world.

[hikari-kaitou]

Capcom's Official AA Fanclub Surveys - DGS Edition

Many Western fans may be familiar with the Turnabout 4koma comics that get posted on the official AA fanclub site that Capcom runs, thanks to some lovely fans on tumblr and elsewhere who have shared their translations. What fewer people seem to know about is the character surveys.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom's official AA fansite every few months where they'd write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like... 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn't help because the content was password locked and you can't get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them.

Cut for length...

"February has begun, and the DGS cast is nearing the end of their journey aboard the RFS Alacrei. Which of them acted the most strangely?"

Ryuunosuke ~ Exhausted from his intensive study session, he decided to try some katana swinging practice as a change of pace and to combat his recent lack of exercise. But because he wasn't used to handling the katana, he swung it too hard and it went flying out of his hands and got stuck in the wall right next to Sherlock, who had just entered the room. Sherlock asked him, "aren't you supposed to be studying right now, Mr. Naruhodo?" and handcuffed him to his desk.

Susato- worked on developing a curriculum for Ryuunosuke. 'If we keep going at this pace, he won't be able to learn it all in time... It'll be hard on Naruhodo-sama, but we'll have to work hard through a couple of nights together.' With that thought, she created a harsh study schedule, and almost seemed to be looking forward to it for some reason.

Sherlock- Driven by excitement over the thought of returning to England after a long absence, he went up on deck to stare at the ocean. Being February, it was very cold out there and he ended up being chilled all the way to the tips of his fingers. He returned to the ship cabins and amused himself by putting his frozen hands on Ryuunosuke, who was stuck in his room studying.

Van Zieks- Upon hearing from Vortex that there was a Japanese exchange student coming to England to study law, he smashed a Lord's Bottle. He apparently also didn't care for the fact that that Japanese student wouldn't be alone, because he proceeded to shatter his chalice, too.

Hosonaga- in order to provide a respite from studying, he provided some hot chocolate. They enjoyed a pleasant tea time, marveling over how sweet and delicious the drink was until Sherlock piped up with some unnecessary trivia: 'Actually folks, chocolate has long been used in Europe as an aphrodisiac!' Everyone promptly spat it out."

"The long winter is nearly over and spring is on it's way, putting the DGS cast members in a celebratory mood. Who found the best way of enjoying spring?"

Ryuunosuke: the Yuumei University faculty members were holding a flower viewing event, and he joined the assistance committee. He exhausted himself keeping the blankets clean so the intense shower of flower petals wouldn't pile up too high on them, delivering sake and snacks, and mediating whatever pointless fights arose. To top it all off, for some reason his compensation was only a single piece of leftover candy. Talk about a sad result!

Susato- her father and the others living in his dormitory were  holding the flower viewing event, so she got up early to prepare the bentos. But her father carelessly forgot to tell her that they wanted tea cakes, so she had to go around the house and neighborhood collecting sweets. For some reason, she ended up being able to gather caramels, biscuits, candy sticks, basically everything but tea cakes, for the tea ceremony.

Sherlock- he disguised himself as a beat officer and infiltrated Scotland Yard to have some fun. There was a real beat officer napping on his feet in the spring sunshine, and while observing him, Sherlock ended up falling asleep too. Detective Gregson gave them a good scolding when he found them, but then Sherlock revealed his true identity with a "hey, it's me, folks!" "What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Gregson shouted, his rage growing even more, and Sherlock ended up making a run for it.

Van Zieks- went to the vineyard to oversee the production of the contents of his Lord's Bottle. As he viewed the still unopened grape blossom buds, he thought about how they would someday grow up to fill his Lord's Bottle, and ended up going around to look at each one. But the farm hands couldn't stop wondering whether the bottle itself or its owner's heel might come flying at them and were quite uneasy.

Asougi: exhausted himself running around since early morning helping with the professors' flower viewing event. When it was over, he took a break, sharing his reward candy stick [the name of the candy literally translates to 1,000 year candy] with Ryuunosuke, who had also been helping out. 

"I wonder if the candy's effect is halved if you share it with someone."

"That still gives us 500 years."

They laughed and enjoyed looking at the flowers until dark. Then they parted ways with a handshake and a "see you later, best friend."

(This one was something about celebrating New Years. For some reason I didn't save the original question)

"Ryuunosuke ~ To celebrate New Years, he planned to pound mochi with everyone at the office. He somehow managed to get his hands on some mochi rice and he and Sherlock started pounding. Iris was having such fun watching them that she steamed a whole bunch more mochi rice so they could have some to share, and he and Sherlock spent the whole evening pounding mochi like crazy.

Asougi~ Because it's New Years, he went around to a bunch of shrines. When he drew his new year's fortune, he got a "horrible luck" result. "I'm not worried about it," he claimed, and headed up to the mountains early on New Years morning and work hard on a full training course of purification by water, meditation under a waterfall and wooden sword practice. It seems that he was working really hard to clear his mind of all earthly thoughts

Sherlock- Agreed to help Ryuunosuke pound mochi. As Ryuunosuke was flipping the mochi over, he carelessly dropped his badge into the bowl and Sherlock mixed it in without noticing, so they had to crack open both the hard and soft mochi to look for it. Fortunately they found it in the 4th one they checked, but apparently Sherlock got his hands and face covered in sticky white mochi in the process.

Susato- Wore a furisode and went with her father to do the first shrine visit of the year. The shrine was incredibly crowded and they had to wait in line for a long time, but she brought the Encyclopaedia of British Law and a copy of the Strand Magazine in her sleeves to secretly read as they waited so she actually ended up enjoying the wait.

Van Zieks- Ryuunosuke cheerfully gave him some mochi as a New Year’s (which at that time was celebrated at the same time as the Chinese New Year) gift, which he accepted confusedly, wondering “...Can the Japanese not even keep track of when the New Year is?” Because Ryuunosuke referred to it as a rice cake, he tried to eat it like a regular cake without softening it with heat first. It was so hard that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be food, and ended up misunderstanding the Japanese even more!

"Autumn has arrived, and the weather is starting to cool off, which means that everyone is becoming more active. Which character chose the most pleasant autumn activity to keep busy with?"

Iris was making bread but her hands are small and it’s difficult for her to knead the dough, so she asked for Ryuunosuke’s help. She wanted to make enough to hand out to Gina and all the other homeless children in the East End, so she made a massive amount and Ryuunosuke was stuck kneading this massive mountain of bread dough all day. Apparently he became such a expert at kneading that he could be a baker now.

Asougi was practicing with his sword, slicing autumn-colored ginko leaves as they fell from the tree. He cut so many leaves, though, that he ended up making a big mess on the ground, the number of fallen leaves now having increased, and it took him a long time to clean it all up.    

Sherlock: Ryuunosuke told him that he was making anpan (bread filled with sweet red bean paste, the bane of my Asian-dwelling existance) and asked Sherlock to help by being in charge of getting the poppy seeds they’d need to sprinkle on top, so Sherlock went out and gathered a ton of poppy seeds. In fact, he got so many of them that no one knew what to do with them all cuz they had a huge amount of leftovers. Sherlock said, “Well, they’re only the size of poppy seeds! Surely you two can deal with them somehow! Ahahaha!” and Iris scolded him.   

(I couldn’t capture it in English, but Sherlock’s line contained a pun, and a pretty stupid one at that, so that’s part of why he got scolded)

It’s grape harvesting season, so Van Zieks commutes to the winery regularly to direct the production of the contents for his “Lord’s Bottle.” He demands perfection in everything from the selection of the grapes to the way they’re squeezed, and the winery staff is terrified by the “grim reaper’s” gaze and heel swinging (i.e. the leg thing he does in court) so they grumble as they work. 

"Hearing that there’s a holiday in the West called Halloween, the people involved with the court in Japan decided to try it out themselves. Naturally Halloween is a big deal in England as well. So, which member of the DGS cast had the best celebration?"

Team Ryuunosuke and Asougi- Asougi got Naruhodo up on his shoulders and they draped a white sheet over themselves to make a ghost costume. They went out like that, but Naruhodo had such exaggerated reactions to the fear of the people who saw them and to bumping his head on tree branches that they ended up losing their balance and falling on top of each other?!   

Sherlock Holmes- went wearing a horse’s head mask. Iris used her skills to make it a fancy horse covered in stars, but the eye holes weren’t well made and he had to wander around blindly. Because of that he tripped hard over a pile of coal! He ended up getting so dirty that the stars on his costume were covered up!

Van Zieks- took inspiration from his nickname and dressed up as the grim reaper. He covered himself up with a skeleton mask and hood figuring no one would know it was him. Unfortunately he got angry when he saw Megundal (McGilded) pass by and started throwing bottles and glasses and ended up giving himself away.

"November has arrived, and autumn is nearing its end. However, the DGS cast is still keeping busy, even on their days off. Which character chose the most interesting way to spend their late autumn day?"

Ryuunosuke- Thinking that he’d better learn more about British culture if he was going to be a defense attorney in Britain, he went down to the East End with Gina for a little observation. However, because an Asian like him stood out so much, he got mobbed by the other children. On top of it all, his arm band got stolen from him and he had to send a replacement request to Yumei University on the other side of the ocean.

Asougi- He went for a meal at La Quantas. The customer at a nearby table got a persimmon for dessert and scarfed it down, saying “Mm! This is it! This sweetness makes it worthy of being called a treasure among foods!” Asougi tried to comment on this by saying, “The customer at that table sure is enjoying his pershim--gak!” but he may or may not have accidentally bitten his tongue in the process and been unable to finish his sentence.

Iris- She accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and prepared a bagpipe and kilt costume for him. “This outfit sure is breezy,” Ryuunosuke said shyly upon trying it on. With Ryuunosuke now dressed, he, Iris, and the others from their office headed over to Gregson’s place to get him to treat them to some fish and chips.   

Sherlock- He accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and cooked up some European style curry for dinner. Thanks to the fact that his secret ingredient was a large amount of Chinese herbal medicine style spice, it caused some strange side effects and Ryuunosuke, who’d eaten it, ended up passing out and falling over.

“Another taxing trial for Ryuunosuke has finished and now it’s December. As the year draws to a close, which character acts the strangest?”

Ryuunosuke- he was recruited to help with snow removal around Yumei University and the courthouse and he enthusiastically began his task with the help of a large shovel. He got a little carried away, though, and ended up accidentally burying his umbrella, which he’d left propped up against the side of the building, in the snow he’d just finished shoveling.  He had no choice but to share Asougi’s umbrella on the way home.

Asougi- On the way home, he nods silently to Ryuunosuke’s question of whether he’d finished his travel preparations and changes the subject: “...Come to think of it, it seems that tomorrow is celebrated in the West as God’s birthday.” “I’ve heard that they eat chicken as part of the traditional celebration. Wanna try it?” Ryuunosuke asks invitingly. Asougi is strongly opposed to that particular menu item, however, and they end up going out for their usual beef stew that night instead.           

Susato- in addition to her year-end travel preparations, she also was busy with straightening up the book room in her home. She managed to get the law books in order when she suddenly stumbled upon some old issues of Strand Magazine! She hurried through the rest of her cleaning, then began flipping through the magazines she’d found, trying to decide which to take with her on her trip. She accidentally lost herself in her reading and didn’t realize it until it was already the middle of the night.

Sherlock- he was in the middle of a long ship voyage when Christmas night came. His mind on his partner in a far-off country, he made a toast alone on deck, when suddenly the crew began shooting off fireworks with a cry of “Merry Christmas!” Sherlock had to dart back and forth across the deck to prevent the fireworks from hitting him and setting off the explosive chemicals he carries with him.

Main series edition

[squidwen]

⚡️Goodnight to a Brute Knight⚡️

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Summary: Sebek Zigvolt has been the bane of your existence ever since you rocked up in Twisted Wonderland. With his prejudiced views of humans, you avoid him like the plague.

But fate decided the two of you can’t stay apart forever. Alone at a tea party in Diasomnia, the two of you have a serious tete-a-tete.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Sebek Zigvolt’s disdain for humans was no secret. Whenever you were in his presence you were often shouted at for the slightest mishap. Were you even breathing correctly, by his standards? His criticisms eventually became so relentless that you started actively avoiding him.

You memorised his timetable; you knew what time he left which classrooms; you took different routes to prevent bumping into him; and, if you ever did cross his peripheral vision, you stared at the walls or floor until he was out of sight.

So why did he keep popping up in places you weren’t expecting?

Twice now, you had been in the library, trying to get a book down, only for him to suddenly appear and reach up to get it for you. When you had looked at him, he had merely stared back coldly. Did he want something? Or did he just wish to show off how much more capable he was than you? And yesterday, whilst you were weeding the Ramshackle garden, he had ridden his horse with the Equestrian club right in front of your dorm and chucked a small bag of seeds at you, hitting you in the head. Furious, you snatched it up and hurled it back, but he was already gone.

Strange, you had thought. Aren’t the club members given strict routes to ride their horses on?

Regardless of the reason of his unforeseen appearances, you were determined to not give him a reason to seek you out, and thus continued to avoid and ignore him as much as possible. This half-fae brute, who dared call himself a knight, was not going to be someone you missed once you finally went home.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Malleus, on the other hand, was someone who was beginning to make a place for himself in your heart. Your relationship hadn’t grown much past nightly walks and gargoyle sight-seeing, so when he had invited you over to Diasomnia for some evening studying and tea, you couldn’t say no.

Sebek was supposed to be sparring with Silver at the same time. Perfect.

You arrived at the common room promptly after your last lesson and saw Malleus sitting at one of the tables, a saucer balanced delicately on his knee. You couldn’t wait to tell him about your day, but as you drew closer, you noticed that he was not alone.

“Ensuring the young master is served his tea is of utmost importance,” said Sebek, pouring piping hot water into a cup. He did it with such finesse, lifting the teapot up above his head, that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

Was it too late to leave? You didn’t want to be anywhere near Sebek, however, rejecting an invitation from Malleus likely would have angered the young retainer beyond all comparison. Best to grin and bear it, you thought as you sat down. Surely Sebek wouldn’t berate his young master’s guests. Especially in front of him.

“Would you please excuse me momentarily?” asked Malleus, rising gracefully from his seat. His magic ensured the saucer was returned to the table. “I left a textbook regarding gargoyle stone-masonry in my chambers.”

“Please, my Lord,” Sebek said quickly. “It would be an honour to retrieve it for you myself-“

“Ensure (Y/N) is served instead,” Malleus commanded. “I won’t be long.” And with that, the prince swept himself off down a sombre hallway, his heels clacking against the stone being the only sound to disturb the silence.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Alone with your enemy, your shoulders hunched defensively. Sebek didn’t seem too pleased to be near you either. You noticed how he poured your tea far less impressively, resting the spout on the rim of the teacup as if the pot was now too heavy for him. Watching the scalding liquid flow made you twice as anxious. The slightest jolt from Sebek and it would go spilling into your lap.

Just then, a rattling noise tore you from your paranoia. The spout had begun clattering against the cup. You chanced a glance at Sebek. His face was as stoic as ever, perhaps even bitter, yet his hands were shaking. That was odd. He usually was so steady and bold. What had brought about this sudden change?

“You’re shaking,” you commented, not knowing what else to say. “You aren’t burning yourself, are you?”

“Of course not,” Sebek retorted gruffly. “I’m merely paying attention to what I’m doing. If I spilled so much as a drop I would have failed in my duty. I’ll admit, it doesn’t bring me pleasure to wait on a human-“

You bolted up. “Hand me the teapot, then.” You lunged for it. “I’ll do it myself.”

With catlike reflexes, Sebek planted his hand on the teapot lid and stepped back. Shocked and affronted, you both stared each other down, wickedly. All that moved was the steam curling out of the teacups.

“Don’t give me orders,” Sebek said darkly, his glare intensifying. You mirrored it.

“Li-ke-wise. In fact, now that we’re alone together, there are a few things I’d like to say. Avoiding you clearly isn’t getting my message across.”

“Human-“

“It’s (Y/N). And you will listen to me.”

The sudden sternness in your tone made Sebek clench his jaw. He’d never heard you raise your voice before. It commanded a degree of authority.

“I’m sick and tired of you treating me as a second-class citizen based on my species,” you seethed. “It’s always ‘human’ this and ‘human’ that. Why is it so hard for you to be courteous? To call me by my name? You claim to be a knight, someone who is supposed to be chivalrous and righteous, yet all I get from you is abuse and prejudice.”

Sebek made no indication to confirm he had understood you. As though in battle, he held his stance, but there was something in his eyes - a faint glimmer - that suggested you had the upper hand. Had you been too harsh? No. You weren’t going to ease up. If you had him on the ropes, now was the time to turn up the heat.

“And why do you think Malleus invited me here tonight? It’s because, unlike you, he judges me based on who I am, not what I am. And I do the same towards him.”

“Humans have a long history of disagreement with the fae. I’m naturally wary of you.”

You sighed. Were your words falling upon deaf ears? “I understand that fairies and humans went to war with each other. But surely my friendship with Malleus is therefore a good thing. It’s a sign that society has progressed-”

Sebek suddenly let out an aggravated cry. “And that’s what infuriates me!”

Quick as lightning, he stalked over to you, slammed the teapot on the table – making the cups dance on their saucers – and gripped your shoulders. Fuelled by sheer adrenaline and fear, you jabbed him in the stomach. He barely flinched. Panic set in. What was he going to do? He was so much stronger than you. A trained fighter. All it would take was one move to finish you off. As you stared into his golden eyes you desperately wanted to know what was going through his mind. Had you triggered something within him? Was he about to take revenge for the war out on you? His strong hands pinned you in place no matter how much you shook and writhed.

“Master Draconia,” he began, digging his fingers into you to punctuate his words, “is a visionary. It’s almost as though living through so much of the past can make him see the future. He has decided to befriend you. Why? He must have a plan.”

“Or maybe he just wants a friend?” you squeaked.

Sebek grit his teeth. “Regardless of the motive, he is fond of you. A fae prince and a magicless human. I just can’t understand why. I thought that by being nice to you in turn I might come to understand him better-“

“Rubbish! You threw a bag of seeds at my head.”

“I thought the roses would look pleasant in your newly-weeded garden.” All of a sudden Sebek’s brow relaxed and he gazed at you neutrally. Utterly neutrally. It felt strange to be on the receiving end of a face like that, especially from Sebek. “I didn’t intend to strike you with it.”

“So, you had good intentions?”

He nodded.

By now Sebek’s grip on you had gotten so strong that, despite not wanting to move, in case you provoked him, you had to peel his fingers away. To your surprise, he complied with your touch.

“Listen,” you said, massaging your tender arms. “I won’t pretend to like you. But if you have any respect for Malleus, and even for yourself, you will learn to see me as a person rather than a human. The way you come across is thuggish at best. It’s not good for your reputation and that of the Valley of Thorns.”

Sebek was stunned. “Why would you care about my reputation when I’ve done so much to harm your own?”

You didn’t get to reply. The familiar sound of heels echoed through the common room. Malleus had returned. He had a large leatherbound book tucked under his arm. A sheet of dust had fallen off of it with each footstep he had taken, leaving a peppery trail behind him.

You politely returned to your seat and slipped your serviette across your lap. Sebek resumed pouring tea. It was as if nothing had happened. Yet, like a primordial instinct, you could feel Sebek’s eyes on you. His gaze didn’t feel harsh or cruel, more fascinated. Once Malleus had sat down, Sebek bowed and left the table. But before he could get too far, you grasped hold of his wrist. He, sideways-on, raised an eyebrow at you sceptically.

You gestured to the spare chair beside you.

“Would you care to join us?” you asked, a small smile on your face. You supposed that if you wanted Sebek to treat you with respect, you’d need to show it to him first. “Malleus and I were just about to discuss stone masonry, perhaps even sculpting.”

Sebek seemed intrigued. “I often would sculpt the likeness of the young master in materials located around my room when I was younger.” He turned to Malleus. “If you require a second opinion, my lord, I will happily supply it.”

Malleus gave his retainer a gentle nod and indicated that he could sit.

You had to pinch yourself to keep from laughing at how red Sebek’s face had gotten. This was probably a massive honour for him. In a way, you felt proud of yourself. You didn’t think you had done anything big by asking Sebek to join you, but it clearly meant a lot to the man. The little smile he gave you made your chest swell with even more pride.

If Sebek hated humans as much as he let on, it would be your job to prove that they weren’t all bad. So, with a flourish, you reached over for a fresh cup and saucer and took up the teapot.

“Tea, Sebek?” you asked cheerily.

“If you please, huma- (Y/N).”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Author Note: thank you for reading! Do feel free to send me writing requests if you enjoyed this. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

- Squidwen x

[1kook]

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!! 

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue 

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[jadedxrealityw]

-Rivals- Hermione Granger x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

    Kody: I’m using the owls grading system for the story so if that’s not right, sue me i guess idk. 

    Movie/Show: Harry Potter, ignoring the storyline

    House/Year: Ravenclaw / 7th year

    Request:  Can I request a bold ravenclaw reader (her attitude almost could pass as a slytherin ngl) she's been Hermione's rival when it comes to grades and they DON'T get along very well. Reader is the opposite of mione's reserved personality. But rivals don't kiss and make out with each other secretly in the lavatory 😭 pls enemies to lovers (with some tension;) ykyk and then one day, they walk the great hall hand in hand and everyone is like don't they find each other insufferable?

    Possible Triggers/Warnings: if you don’t like lesbians get the hell off my page, sexual tension, enemies to lovers trope, cursing

    ☼-☪-☼

    love came unexpectedly at times, you learned that at young age from fairy tales and such. Well all kids did, but kids eventually grew up and came to the realization that fairy tales were exactly what they were, fairy tales. Fiction. Not real. 

    people could call you cold hearted or rude, but you would describe yourself as blunt or brutally honest. Never afraid to speak your mind or point out injustice when you saw fit. To put it simpler terms, professors at Hogwarts preferred you didn’t speak at times. 

    “Your too outspoken Ms. L/n” 

    “Stick to your academics Ms. L/n”

    “You wouldn’t be in detention so much so if kept your mouth shut Ms. L/n”

    merlin, you were exhausted of hearing your own last name. You guessed the only reason you weren’t reprimanded as worse as the Weasley Twins was because you were one of Hogwarts brightest witches, always excelled in academics, in every subject. 

    you couldn’t explain it to others even if you tried other then it just came naturally. Your parents, when they were attended Hogwarts were both just as naturally skilled in there studies as you were. So you must have inherited there ‘big brain’ as your mother said many times before.

    you were never one to gloat though, it was never your style. You were more humble about what you could accomplish. That was until she got involved. That egoistical, hypocritical, Gryffindor girl. Hermione Granger became the bane of your existence early into your fifth year. 

   until then Ms. Granger had been the top of all her classes, no one even came close to her intelligence, naming her ‘The Brightest Witch At Hogwarts’ and Hermione wore that title with pride. Being a Muggle born put a target on her head as well as stereotypes.

    most students and some staff almost immediately came to the conclusion she wasn’t capable of achieving goals that regular half or pure bloods could. It was a terrible way to think, but it was unfortunately the reality of being involved with the wizarding world. 

   Hermione was lucky to have friends like she did that cared about her no matter who she was or what she became, but it didn’t stop her need to feel validated in her academics. It was the one thing no one could giver her shit for, because she was the best at it and no one else was. 

   until that fateful fifth year that was mentioned earlier. It was the time when you finally got your mind and heart into your studie. You blew past most of the student body rather quickly, earning the title of the fastest turn around at Hogwarts.

    it was nice

    then it wasn’t, for Hermione of course 

    ☼-☪-☼

    fifth year / past

    “It seems we have two students with an Outstanding this time around” Professor Flitwick spoke as the exams from the previous week had landed neatly onto the wooden desk in front of you. “congratulations Ms. Granger and Ms. L/n”

    Hermione’s head perked up like a cat who had heard a bag of hard food shake from the nest room over, eager. She had never heard that name before, it didn’t come as much as an surprise though considering how big Hogwarts was. She leant to the left where Harry Potter sat. 

    “Who’s L/n? Do you know her?” she asked, casually though Harry knew her better then most. He gave her a half hearted shrug “No clue, try Ron” he suggests. Hermione nods once before leaning over to the right, where the Weasley sat, scowling at his exam. 

    “Mum’s going to kill me” he muttered, bringing no reaction to Granger’s face. He never studied. “Ron, do you know who this L/n is?” she repeated the question she gave to Harry. Ron turns his head away from the parchment and to Hermione. 

   his brows furrowed as he searches the corners of his mind for where he had heard the name from, until the visible light bulb popped over his head- well not so visible actually. “Oh um- Y/n L/n. she’s a Ravenclaw, her parents are certified geniuses. They work at the ministry. Department of magical education”

   his words did not soothe the wracking thought in the young Granger’s mind. “Certified geniuses?” Hermione echos. “If that’s so how come she’s only getting Outstandings now? she must have cheated somehow” she thought aloud. 

    “I surely didn’t cheat”

   like an owl Hermione’s head turned over her shoulder, her two Gryffindor pals doing the same. In her sight was a girl, her age, in a Ravenclaw robe. She had S/C skin with H/L H/C hair and E/C eyes that were staring back at her. Hermione was almost stunned into silence- keyword being almost. 

    “the explain the good grade all of the sudden, L/n?”

   you looked rather confused. You had never met the girl and she was accusing you of cheating because you had never gotten an Outstanding before? Was this a prank of some sort or fever dream? “I studied for once. You have no right accusing me, i don’t even know you that well”

    Harry placed a hand upon Hermione’s shoulder, signaling for her to stop before she caused a scene. Looking back, she should have listened “No right? I have a right to point out people who are just trying to cheat their way through school while people like us actually care about our grades”

    what the Gryffindor girl wasn’t expecting was for you to start laughing. Her friend, Cho Chang joining in, finding it just as equally hilarious. Hermione’s face turned just as bright as Ron’s hair. “What is so funny?” you and Cho slowly come to a stop, breathing in and out. 

    “what’s funny is that your ego is so incredibly large, so much so that it can’t comprehend that someone, not a Gryffindor either was able to match your intelligence. Now shove off ” you said it all with a grin on your face, because you certainly knew you were right. 

    and from that day, you both despised each other

    ☼-☪-☼

    seventh year / present

    and with every exam, every questioned called on by a teacher, you fastly became Hermione’s rival. It was a term Cho used, but you didn’t really see it that way since you weren’t competing with her. You never studied harder to make sure you got the same grade, never tried to sabotage her in any way. 

    you didn’t care much about it actually

    but you did quite enjoy her face, the way her nostrils flared up an her cheeks turned a bright red in anger. It was cute seeing her so mad. Sending er a wink or sly grin when she glared at you became a daily routine as well. When at first you ignored her you now loved annoying her.

    never having to say a word was probably your favorite part. 

    that’s probably when feelings began to mix into it, but you either didn’t notice or refuse to acknowledge them at all. You genuinely thought you hated this girl, so why in the world would you ever think you liked her? Makes sense, right? Were not even going to mention the questioning your sexuality.

    “Sit still while i pass out your exams from yesterday. Once you recieve your paper you may get up and leave” 

    “You think if Snape got laid he wouldn’t be such a prick?” the Slytherin boy spoke, leaning towards you. turning your head ever so slightly, you lock eyes with Draco “Why are you even sitting here?” you whisper back, giving him a mock astonished look.

   he rolls his grey eyes, shrugging his shoulders “You never talk to me outside of class anymore” he grumbles. Is he- Is this- What is happening? “That’s because your a little shit and pushed Neville in the hallway yesterday” yeh, you caught his dumbass. 

    Draco’s eyes widen a bit, not knowing you had been in the hallway during the crime. “You saw that?- what are you his protector?” he says, clearly as an insult, but oh little did he know that you were indeed exactly what he just said and would say it with pride.

    “Yes-”

    “Ms. L/n, Outstanding as usual as well Mr. Malfoy. Good work, the both of you” Snape places the exams in front of each of you, but you were both to busy staring in shock. This bitter, old, mean, crude man just compliment you. Merlin, you had finally gotten fathers approval

    (what in the fuck am i writing)

    “Is this heaven?” Draco questioned, staring bug eyed forward. 

    “No”

    “How do you know?”

    “Cormac is here”

    “Yeah your right, feelings over” both you and Draco sighed, turning to look at each other before laughing quietly. He was a pretty chill dude sometimes. “What!?” the loud screech filled your ears. All heads turned behind you, so you followed that and saw the one and only Hermione Granger. 

    she was huffing and puffing. You feared for the stick and straw houses in the world for a moment. Harry quickly stood up and pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back into her seat “I've never gotten an Exceeds Expectations before” Hermione sputters out. 

    she

    got

    what

    now?

    oh this was rich, absolutely hilarious, so much so that Draco had already began to laugh. “Poor Granger, guess you really aren’t the brightest witch” he taunted. Hermione looked up, glaring daggers at the Slytherin. Merlin, he had such a big mouth.

    then her brown eyes strayed to you, but you only pursed your lips together, providing her no emotion to work off of. In a haste, she collected her things, leaving the cursed exam on the table nd rushing out the door, both Ron and Harry calling out for her. 

    fuck

    standing up, you grab your bag and look down at Draco. His laughter comes to an end and he looks up at you “What?” he asked. You copied his dementor singers from third year, making him look at your hands. You took that time to reach down and flick his forehead. 

    he pulls away, his palm rubbing his head in circles “Bloody hell, what was that for?!” he exclaimed. What an idiot. “This is why we don’t hang out” you deadpan before finally going to exit the classroom, leaving a grumbling, mumbling Draco. Something about you being  ‘mean friend’

    ☼-☪-☼

    only having ten minutes until Charms class you began to search the halls. Merlin where had she run off too? The school wasn’t THAT big- okay maybe it was. You had almost called quits, making a mental note to check up on her during lunch when you passed the restroom.

    sniffling and crys were heard. You’ll admit, it kind off hurt to hear. Taking a few steps backwards, you use the palm off your hand to slowly push the door open so it wouldn’t creak like the old shit it was. When it was open just enough for you to fit through, you slip in. 

    gazing around, you see Hermione bent over the sink, sobbing. You could hear her voice becoming rougher by the second as she destroyed her vocal cords. “Granger?” you say, staying a few feet behind her. Hermione looks up in the mirror, spotting you behind her. 

    her distraught expression quickly shifted to anger “You” she seethed. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion “Me?” you say back, crossing your arms. “Leave me the hell alone L/n!” she shouts, angry tears flooding down her cheeks. Raising your hands, you offer your surrender.

    “Shit, sorry. I was just trying to see if you were okay” you admit. Hermione turns on her heels, facing you directly this time before speaking “Oh so now your my friend, your a bully! All you do is step on my toes and try to make me look like a fool!”

    “Are you on fucking drugs Granger? Not once have i ever gone out my way to harm you of any sort. Your the one who is obsessed with trying to be better then me and i never gave a shit. I never wanted to be your rival for three years and i certainly never bullied you!”

    the words you spoke went out one of Hermione’s ears and out the other. For someone as smart as her, she could be quite dense when angry “You don’t get to play the saint, L/n! I have spent those three years studying as hard as i can and you don’t even have to try!” 

   throwing your hands up in the air a crazy person because she was honestly starting to make your brain hurt quite a bit, you laugh loudly “Oh my- no one asked you too! What is so wrong with us being the same?! ” you shouted, finally raising your voice as much as she had.

    “Because your not a Muggle! You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone you meet already assume your not worth their time just because your parents aren’t witches or wizards!” she crept towards you and which each step she took you took a step right the fuck back.

    this chick wasn’t going to hit you, right?

    “I have never judged you for your blood status Granger, i frankly could care less. What i do judge you for is you know, the giant ego thing” you spat back only causing her to gasp in offense “I do not have an ego!” she yells, stepping into your boundaries basically.

   you had tried to back up like before, but you were pressed up against a wall at this point. “Yes you do and it’s as big as Hagrid!” you reply. Hermione grabs the collar of your white uniform shirt, pulling you down a bit so her face was inches from yours, trying to intimidate you.

    “Take it back!” she threatens. In that moment your eyes scanned her face, noting her almost perfect skin, her brown eyes that looked more hazel up close then far away, and her lips. They looked so soft and inviting. You couldn’t quite understand why you were thinking like this all of the sudden.

    but it felt right, so right

    in a swift motion you place your lips on Hermione’s. You had thought she’d pull away, but only half a second later her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you as close as possible to her. You tangled one of your hands into her light brown wavy mess and the other pushed on the small of her back. 

    the kiss was messy and sloppy, not amount of anything really could make it appropriate. How did you two go from fighting to almost ripping each others uniforms off? A question no one could really answer but yourself as well Hermione. 

    it was over as soon as it began with Hermione pulling away, leaning her forehead against yours. You could make out the small smile on her face, it made you smile as well. “That was-” she started to speak, but was stopped by her own laughter. 

    “Yeah” you breathed out. What had just happened?

        ☼-☪-☼

    four months later

    ever since that day you and Hermione would casually meet up in the lavatory to kiss and feel up on each other after, btween, during classes. Anything really. You both had also not interacted at all outside of these visits. Just stayed away from each other as much as possible.

    most people thought you two had either made up after three years of rivalry or had decided to no longer interact with each other at all. Little did they know right? Speaking of that, you pull away from Hermione, panting for air “We have divination in three minutes” you spoke. 

   her face turned to worry instantly making you grin to yourself “Godric, i have to get out of here. Wait a couple minutes” she gathered her belongings and rushed out the restroom not even leaving you with an goodbye kiss. How rude. After about five minutes or so you leave as well

    once you get to class you look around the room and spot Hermione already sat with Harry and Ron on one side of the arch like sitting area for the students. “Y/n!” oh not again. Turning your head to the right, you spt the Slytherin boy with his mates.

   this guy just doesn’t quit. You plop yourself next to Draco Malfoy “I thought you were going to ignore me again” he admits. Ignoring his statement, you gaze around the people at your table “Where’s Parkinson? If i’m going to be stuck with you gits and Theo i rather it be with her” 

   Theo cracks a smile while Draco rolls his eyes “She’s sick, stuck in her dorms” he explains. You nod mindlessly and look over at Hermione. She was brushing through her hair with her fingers, trying to make it look like you weren’t tugging on it just minutes ago. 

    “What’s that on your neck?” Harry asks, moving the top part of Hermione’s robe with his finger, causing her to swat his hand away “It’s just a bug bite” she says with haste. quick thinking, that’s kinda cute. For some odd reason you liked seeing her explain her way out of a hickey that you gave her. 

    class soon started, but you kept your inventive gaze on her. It was adorable how she would catch you staring and turn a nice shade of red. It brought a smug smile to your face each time. Professor Trelawney had called upon Hermione to ask a question, but she seemed to be too busy avoiding your gaze. 

    “My dear, Ms. Granger” Trelawney said for maybe the third time until Hermione finally fell back down to reality. She looked at the Professor who gave her a kind smile “Oh um-” the Gryffindor put on a nervous smile, her eyes looking to you. You sent her a wink.

    merlin you were such an asshole

    Hermione looked at her lap, trying to muster up the words, any words actually. Her savior wore glasses “Hermione isn’t feeling to well. Can Ron and i take her to the hospital wing?” Harry asked. What a buzzkill. Trelawney nods, waving her hand to the direction of the door. 

    Harry tapped Hermione’s shoulder while Ron grabbed her things and off they went. 

        ☼-☪-☼

    a week later

    “I have to head to dinner, you should too. I saw that you didn’t eat during lunch” Hermione spoke, buttoning her uniform shirt. You smile, looking into the mirror so you could fix your hair “Watching me Granger?” you ask, turning away from your reflection.

    “You know i worry about your health” she said, which only made your smile wider “What is that stupid smile for?’ Hermione questions, an amused laugh in her tone. Shrugging, you lean against the sink counter “Stupid? I thought you liked my quote on quote ‘Goofy smile’” 

    Hermione shakes her head, grabbing her bag from the floor “I better see you at dinner or i’ll drag you there myself” she said playfully. An idea popped into your mind. “Then drag me” you smirk, tilting your head to the left. Hermione looks at you, shaking her head again. “You know i can’t”

    “Why not? It’s been four months. I would like to be your-” you stopped mid sentence. You both had never really gave each other labels before. It was always just the casual make out and flirting, but now you were much more. Fuck it “I would like to be your girlfriend in public”

    Hermione’s brow eyes went wide as she heard those words. It becoming a little too real. You saw her conflicted face and immediately felt some sort of shame. Averting your gaze to the ground, you take a deep breath. “Forget i said anything” 

    “No!- i mean. I’m ready. Plus i’m tired of being distracted by you during class” Hermione lightened the mood just a tad. You look back up at her, cracking a half smile “I’m most likely still going to distract you” you point out, making her chuckle. Cute.

    she inhales sharply “Let’s do this” she states confidently, letting out the breath. She reached out, opening her hand for you to grab. In that small gesture, you knew you would be with this woman for as long as you lived. Grabbing her hand, you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

    ☼-☪-☼

    hand in hand, you walk into the great hall. Heads turned and pupils dialated at the sight of you and Hermione walking in together. You honestly felt a little self conscious until you saw the bright smile of Cho and Luna as well as Draco who gave you a hidden thumbs up.

    both you and Hermione took  seat at the Gryffindor table. “So Hermione, how long as this been going on?” Harry asked. Hermione glances at you before her best friend “Four months, one week.” she said, gleaming with pride at her memory. 

    Harry looked taken aback at the time, but gave you both a smile “Well at least you both are getting along finally” he says, Ron nodding beside “Yeah- getting along” the Weasley jokes. You laugh a bit before leaning over to kiss the temple of Hermione's head. 

    rivals am i right?

        ☼-☪-☼

    Click here to join my Taglist so you never miss a new story from me!

    @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @queeriacs @marrymetheonott

    ☼-☪-☼

    Kody- Aye look its 10 am and i haven’t slept. Good night, my requests are open blah blah. Anyways, peace. 

[marsofaries]

The Itsy Bitsy Spider {Katsuki Bakugou x Reader}

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Assault

Summary: Your grumpy (and ridiculously attractive) neighbor helps you rid of the spider in your new apartment. Things grow from there.

Notes: fem!Reader, ProHero!Bakugou, Bakugou hates feelings

That’s it. You were moving out.

So what, that you just managed to unpack the last box in your new apartment? One look at that eight-legged... creature, and it was their apartment now. You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but spiders were the absolute bane of your existence.

This led to you shakily standing over the said arachnid, a large All Might mug trembling faintly in your hands. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck-- FUCK!” You shrieked as the spider took a quick dart to its left. Nope. No way.

It had taken about an hour before the spider was successfully captive. Another hour to finally figure out what to do next. 

And now there you were, pacing back and forth in front of your neighbor’s front door, mumbling failed greetings to yourself like a desperate prayer.

“Hi, I’m-- that’s not right. How about ‘I just moved in and--.’ God, I sound like an idiot.” Gathering all of your courage, you rapped three quick knocks on the front of the wood. The urge to bolt was suddenly very powerful.

“I swear to God, Shitty Hair, if you-- Oh.” The door was suddenly swung open to reveal the most gorgeous person you had ever seen in your whole life. With biceps the size of your head, the man completely dwarfed you in size. He almost took up the entire space of the door, his spikey blond locks brushing the top the frame. Vermillion eyes stared at you cautiously as you forgot everything you were about to say. “The fuck you want?”

As you made no move to answer, the Greek god of a man pulled his lips into a scowl. 

“What are you, a fucking stalker or somethin’?”

That definitely brought you out of your reverence.

“W-What? No!”

A scoff left the man’s lips, and you suddenly wanted nothing more that to kick him straight in the jewels. However, you were on a mission. A mission to rid a tiny eight-eyed demon from your living room.

“There was a, uh...spider.” You slowly trailed off, waving weakly in the direction of your apartment across the hall.

 “A spider? Really?” The blond questioned condescendingly, rolling his stupidly-perfect crimson eyes.

A light flush brushed your cheeks in embarrassment as you stared down at your shoes. You were sure he was going to slam the door right in your face. But he didn’t.

The man brushed right past you, marching right though your open door-- making sure to loudly mumble as many complaints as he could. You stumbled after the tall blond, failing to keep up with his abnormally long strides.

You watched in silence as he crouched by the downturned mug, raising a single perfectly-sculpted brow. However, your silence was quickly turned into a squeak of horror when your neighbor dumped the spider into his bare-hand. 

For a moment of absolute terror, you thought the stranger was going to throw it at you.

Wide-eyed, you watched as he pushed open the nearest window and placed the spider on the railing of your fire-escape. Having pushed the window back down, the man turned back to leave your apartment. As he walked past, he shoved the now (thankfully) empty mug to your chest.

“W-wait!”

He paused, sliding his crimson gaze to yours.

“M-My name is (Y/L/N)… (Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

You weren’t quite sure why you felt the need to give him your name. Maybe it was because he helped you when you were absolutely sure he wouldn’t. Or maybe how he decided to let the bug free instead of kill it. Maybe it was the amused huff he let out when he heard your terrified squeak. Perhaps it was all three. You didn’t know.

His striking red eyes suddenly raked your frame before a smirk settled confidently on his all-too-attractive lips.

“Bakugou Katsuki.”

~~~

“HOLD THE FUCKING DOOR!” 

You let out a squeak at the sudden yell, sticking the toe of your nude-colored pumps between the sliding elevator doors. A muscled arm wedged itself between the doors, pulling them back open.

“You.” You breathed as none other than your extremely hot neighbor was revealed. The blond was clad in a loose black V-neck and sweatpants-- a large duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His hair was slightly damp, as small beads of water dropped off the edge of his spikes every couple of seconds.

“Stalker.” He acknowledged with a grunt. The corner of Bakugou’s lips shot up at your protests.

The ride down to the lobby was relatively silent and slightly awkward. You kept switching your weight on both legs as you struggled to find something to say.

“The fuck you dressed so fancy for?” The explosive blond finally said. You couldn’t help but let out a breath of relief at the break in silence.

“I got a new job at All Might Bank!” You were pretty excited, as it was your first day. The bank itself was pretty fancy, and you were cheery that it was named after the old symbol of peace. All Might had been your favorite hero growing up but you grew out of your hero phase as you had gotten older. Nowadays you couldn’t tell one hero from the other.

You turned to Bakugou with a smile, content that he even cared about your life. It was quite a surprise when compared with the vibes he gave off.

“What about you?” You asked cheerily. 

“... Agency.” He grunted.

“Oh! Are you a model or something?” You knew it! There was no way that a man as attractive as Bakugou Katsuki was not the cover of every magazine. He was, just not for the reasons you thought. You watched in confusion as the explosive blond emitted a loud snort.

“Or something...”

DING!

You were almost sad as the elevator dinged, signaling the end of the ride. Although it was short, and mostly awkward, you found yourself enjoying his company. You walked side by side until you reached the doors to outside, pausing slightly when he went to part.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou froze at your expressed gratitude, studying your figure with renewed interest.

“You know... for the spider?” You seemed to lose all cognitive brain function when he looked at you with those frustratingly gorgeous vermillion eyes. Bakugou scoffed and turned away, muttering a quiet response. Little did you know that he was trying to hide a light blush.

“Whatever...”

~~~

You were happy to say that these shared elevator rides became a daily ritual, to the point where Bakugou started to bring you his delicious leftovers for your lunch (he made the meals especially for you, but would die before he ever admitted that). Before you knew it, you were quite smitten with the blond.

You couldn’t help but replay this morning’s occurrence in your head as you filed checking account after checking account.

 “Good morning, Bakugou-kun!” You called as you exited your apartment. You didn’t even have to look anymore. Bakugou had a habit of waiting for you outside your door to give you his most current dish. 

“Morning.” He grunted in response, hating the way his heart skipped a beat.

His eyes scanned over your form, (longer than considered friendly) as he checked your outfit. Bakugou always seemed to have some sort of fashion-ready advice on the tip of his tongue, and with you still thinking he was a model-- you were more that happy to comply. And also for the fact that he really did have a good eye for it.

“Undo the top two buttons… you look like a nerd.”

Your eyes quickly flashed to your white button-up, pulling at the two buttons with one hand.

“Better?”

Bakugou only grunted in approval. He was trying to act like he wasn’t on the verge of kissing the ever-lasting life out of you.

~~~

“Hey, Newbie! Get me a coffee, will ya?” You were quickly pulled out of your daydream by one of your (slightly arrogant) bosses.

“Of course, sir.” You answered as you hurried to the other side of the bank. You’ve been at your new job (and apartment) for about a month, and they still won’t let up on the whole “newbie” stuff. 

You sighed as you waited by the coffee maker, situated right to the left of the big glass entrance. Oh, how you would have loved to pour that coffee right over your boss’ head. Too lost in your own head, you failed to notice the suspicious group of men heading straight for the vault until one of them grabbed your arm.

“What the fu--”

“EVERYBODY DOWN OR SHE DIES!” 

Oh shit! Oh fuck! Your mind was reeling at a million miles per hour. The man had pulled you to where your back was to his front, and had a blade pressed against your throat. It seemed to come out of the inside of his wrist, being a relatively deadly quirk if handled correctly.

Everyone within the pristine building froze but quickly dropped to the floor after some warning shots from one of the robbers. Another suddenly morphed into some sort of beast and marched to the steel vault door.

You suddenly wished that you had a more physical quirk, cursing it for being so useless in this situation. Yeah, you knew basic self-defense, but it would be futile with three other villains in your midst.

Minutes felt like hours, and you could only hope that someone had alerted the police and nearby heroes. You winced as the blade dug into the delicate skin of your throat.

A sudden explosion burst through the skylight of the building, raining glass shards on the hostages. All at once, people were screaming, running, and blast after blast started ringing in your ears. You let out a sigh of relief.

The heroes were here.

Using the distraction, you quickly gripped the man’s arm tight below the base of the blade. You pulled it away from your neck ever so slightly, ducking your head to pull yourself through the gateway you had created. Keeping your hands locked at the base of the robber’s wrist, you twisted his arm and shoved up-- forcing it to pop from its socket.

A sudden bump to your shoulder from a running hostage caused you to slip up on your little self-defense sequence, allowing the man to break from your grip. He whipped around to face you, holding his dislocated arm. You panicked, so... you socked him in the face.

He let out an enraged cry, thick blood gushing from his nose. You were a bit surprised with how easy it was to land a hit on him. You thought that villains would have been more prepared before robbing a bank named after All Might.

Oh, well.

You punched him again in the nose for good measure, and he was out like a light. His hot red blood coated your knuckles, and you gagged in disgust. Ew. You wiped the back of your dominant hand on you button-up absentmindedly, before being shoved to the floor by your panicking boss. Wow. Your limbs felt like mush now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you suddenly couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself off of the floor.

A final explosion went off, followed by the most desperate and wretched call you had ever heard in your entire life. And the call... sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your eyes shot up at the scream, searching frantically for the owner of that voice. You knew that voice, you only ever heard it in grunts and light-hearted mocking sentences, but you knew that voice.

“Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes suddenly locked on familiar crimson irises. 

Relief flooded his features as he saw you, and was at your side in seconds-- dropping quickly to his knees. 

“Oh my god.” Bakugou breathed, grabbing your head and cradling it tight to his chest and-- what the fuck was he wearing? Wait, there was no way... he was the explosion hero you saw on the news! Holy fuck!

“You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how terrified I was when I heard there was trouble at your work?! And you didn’t answer your goddamn phone? Jesus Christ, (Y/N).” Worried rambles fell rapidly out of Bakugou’s lips, seemingly void of any filter. You would have been ecstatic by his cute little worrying if your mind wasn’t reeling by the fact that your crush neighbor was one of the top ten heroes in Japan.

He suddenly grasped both sides of your face and pulled back so you were eye to eye.

“Are you hurt? I swear to God, if someone hurt you-- I’ll fucking kill them.” Bakugou’s eyes were frantically scanning your face, looking for any sign of injury.

“...Katsuki?” You mumbled softly, and he immediately froze. He felt his heart lurch in his throat as his name tumbled from your lips. You, on the other hand, were completely, and utterly lost. “You’re a pro-hero?”

“....What?” Bakugou questioned dumbly. “You could have been seriously hurt and that’s the first thing you think about?”

“What? I thought you were a model.” You whined, lightly smacking his chest.

At this, Bakugou let out a loud laugh, and you just watched in awe. You had never seen him laugh before. Even though half his face was smeared in black makeup and little injuries littered his skin-- it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life. He pulled back to look at you, but suddenly froze.

“You’re hurt! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!” Bakugou shouted, spotting bright red stains on the front of your blouse. You quickly grabbed his hand, hoping to soothe his panicking.

“Hey, hey!” You yelped, gaining his attention. “It’s not mine.” 

You gestured over to the villain knocked out next to you.

“Holy shit.” Katsuki breathed, before turning his vermillion gaze back to yours. A quiet, amused huff escaped his lips. “So you’re afraid of a spider, but can knock out a villain?” He questioned teasingly.

A light blush covered your cheeks, causing you to force your eyes down. You suddenly noticed just how close you two were. You were situated about half way onto Bakugou’s lap, as one of his large hands softly held your waist. The other was still trapped between your own. This caused your blush to only darken.

“Hey, eyes up here.” Bakugou muttered, lifting his hand from your waist and to the base of your chin. You force your eyes back up to his, but couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance to his lips. However, Bakugou saw it, and that was all it took.

Bakugou crashed his lips onto yours, and you were quick to respond. You tangled your hands within his soft blond locks, allowing him to completely dominate the kiss. His hands held you tightly to his body, refusing to give even an inch of space between you two. He didn’t let go even as you pulled back for air, his lips chasing after yours.

Time seemed to stop while he was kissing you, and every one was distressed with the thought of losing you. It was soft and sweet, and then rough and desperate-- the sweet smell of caramel, of Bakugou, invading all of your senses. 

You finally broke for air, breaths mingling shamelessly. Bakugou rested his forehead on yours, wanting nothing more than to never let you go.

“I’m so glad I found you, Stalker.”

Bonus:

A low whistle dragged out across bank, turning the couples’ gazes over to a certain hardening hero.

“SHITTY HAIR, I SWEAR TO--”

The End.

Notes:  This was my first imagine! I hope you guys liked it!

The police watching the final scene like: 👁👄👁 can we go home?

[kenjikutie]

summary: you and kageyama had made many promises to one another, but, perhaps the king doesn’t need a princess after all word count: 2k warnings: none! just a lot of angst pairing: kageyama tobio x fem!reader

you would always remember your first day of middle school. that was the day that you decided your older brother would forever be the bane of your existence. not only had he left you at home without waking you up but, he had also begun his walk without you, leaving you to navigate your way through the bustling streets of japan

with every step you took, you swore that your lungs were about to give out. you still had no idea how tooru did this every day and stayed after school for volleyball practice. maybe you could put shaving cream in his pillow or hide his sports sneakers as revenge for leaving you all alone, but, he had gotten you the coveted manager position for his team, so, that was something he could hold over your head for months to come

so lost in your thoughts of revenge, you didn’t notice that you had slowed down to a nearly crawling speed, causing the person behind you to knock right into your back, sending you flying to the concrete, papers and books scattering all around, getting trampled by the passerby

“i- i’m sorry!”, a small voice cried out, reaching down to lift you off of the ground and awkwardly dust off your shoulder

you giggled and ran a hand through your hair, holding up your hands, “no, it’s okay! i promise.”

judging by his uniform, he was also a first year in middle school and you were certain you had never seen someone look so nervous. maybe he was lost like you were. there was a pale blush on his face, one which only grew deeper when you walked up to him, curiously leaning inward

“what’s your name?”, you hadn’t even noticed how close the two of you were 

you had always been a bubbly person, just like your elder brother. personal space had never been a phrase in your vocabulary and it had been fine that way in elementary school, but you supposed it was time for you to mature a little bit. after all, curiosity did kill the cat

backing up, you held out your hand for him to shake, “i’m oikawa y/n! im a first year, too!”

still, the boy said nothing, clearly too frazzled to open his mouth. with a soft laugh, you picked up the books and papers you had dropped, not minding that he didn’t help. when you came back up from the ground, you noticed that he hadn’t moved at all

taking his hand in yours, you began to run in the direction of your middle school, ignoring his surprised gasp and quiet protests. eventually, he relaxed in your grip and ran beside you, instead of letting you drag him around like a ragdoll

quietly, kageyama snuck a glance at your face, feeling the godforsaken blush from earlier creep it’s way back up his neck. you had to have been the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his short lifespan. no, scratch that- you were the prettiest girl anyone could ever see-

he was almost sad when the two of you reached the gate of kitagawa first. your hand quickly untangled itself from his and you turned to him with a wide grin. kageyama swore his heart had never beaten so fast

“i’ll see you later! thanks for running with me.”, before you could turn around, he clutched onto your jacket, effectively stopping you

“k-kageyama tobio.”, he let out a shaky sigh, “that’s my name.”

after that encounter, you became what kageyama tobio would consider to be his closest friend. each day, there would be a pouch of yogurt or a carton of strawberry milk sitting on your desk, a desk specifically chosen by you due to it’s location-right behind kageyama’s head-

you loved to annoy him during class by poking him with your pencil or slipping notes into the hood of his jacket for him to find later. kageyama would never tell you that he kept them all in a small box on his dresser

during his first year, kageyama knew that you were the only reason he stayed on the volleyball team. anytime your brother teased him, you were jumping on his case, pulling his hair and whining for him to not bully your best friend. oikawa would just ruffle your hair and begin to tease you about having a little crush

kageyama didn’t like that. he didn’t like the idea of you having feelings or even a close friendship wth someone that wasn’t him. you were the only person he felt he could go to when he was overwhelmed, the only that would lay with him and watch clouds on the weekends and the only one who would stay in the gym with him until the late hours of the night to toss volleyballs

“hey, yn? you’re still gonna be my best friend in high school, right?”, kageyama had asked as the two of you sat on the gym steps, quietly sipping from your waterbottles

you quirked a brow, wondering where that question had come from, “of course i am, tobio! do you really think i would leave you all alone?”

kageyama went quiet and you worried that you had said something wrong. without thinking, you reached over and grabbed his hand, feeling him tense under your hold. you could have sworn that his cheeks turned bright red as soon as your fingers grazed one another

so, you sat there underneath the moonlight, feeling your heart begin to beat a little bit faster when your best friend intertwined his fingers with yours, slightly squeezing

but, that connection all changed one quiet, fall day in third year. that was the first time a pouch of yogurt didn’t show up on your desk. you had matured a lot since the first day you met kageyama. you weren’t as curious as before and certainly not as naive

you knew that kageyama and you had lost touch and that things weren’t the same as before. after you quit managing for the volleyball team, late night meetings stopped and hanging out together for lunch was pushed aside for extra practice. it was beginning to drive you crazy

to fill the void left by kageyama, you started to hang out more with the other third years, such as kunimi and kindaichi. but after a while, kunimi began to see the lost look in your eyes whenever you glanced towards kageyama’s locker, only to find him missing

but, the lazy boy didn’t have the heart to tell you what had happened to your old best friend. he couldn’t let you know how kageyama screamed at them, how he slammed balls on the court out of frustration, how he had become the king

kunimi knew it was only a matter of time until you found out, though. you had always been smarter than anyone he knew. so, it didn’t surprise him when you arrived at their final game of the season, cheeks painted in their school colors and your old manager jacket on your shoulders

standing at the top of the bleachers, you admired the way kageyama looked in his uniform. he was more mature now from the looks of him but you could tell he still drank his milk and yogurt cartons before every game, judging from the amount of them in the trash can

your heart nearly lept out of your chest when he turned to look up at you, your eyes connecting with his blue ones. you weren’t sure what kageyama was thinking about or if he was even happy to see you there but you were sure his eyes widened just a little bit

after about an hour, the game was in full force and you had been exposed to a side of kageyama you had never seen before. your heart beat faster form the crazed, furious look in his eyes anytime he glanced at his teammates and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the boy who was lost on your first day of school

but, the worst was yet to come. when kageyama reaches backward for a set, preparing to score the final point, no one came to receive it. the entire arena was silent, as if everyone was afraid to move and you saw kageyama crack like marble

the game ended after that with a final loss for kitagawa first. you exchanged glances with kunimi, noting the lack of expression in his eyes. you assumed that putting kageyama in his place was enough for him to feel satisfied with how their final season ended

kageyama shoved past his teammates, knocking their shoulders so hard you thought they might fall over. quickly gathering your things, you sprinted down the stairs of the bleachers and towards where you had seen him leave

you skid to a stop when you saw his back, frozen where he stood, fists clenched so tightly he may burst blood vessels. your eyes softened at how tense his shoulders were and you so badly wanted to reach out and help him, but that wasn’t your place anymore

as you took one step forward, kageyama turned to face you, a glaring look in his eyes that made you shiver, “what the hell are you doing here?”

the phrase was a snarl

“i...i wanted to check on you, because-“

“because you feel sorry for me? i don’t need your pity and i don’t want it either!”

running a hand through your hair, you shook your head and glanced up at him, “i don’t pity you. i just wanted to help you...”

kageyama rolled his eyes and chucked the volleyball in his hand at the wall, not even flinching as the sound echoed through the hall. you, however, jolted at the action and took a step back

“what happened to you?”, your voice was barely a whisper

his eyes flared as he turned to face you, “what happened to me? are you serious? what about you, huh? quitting the manager job even though you loved it! you changed everything about who you are!”

you were starting to get angrier; you could feel it in your gut, “i grew up, kageyama! maybe you should try it and stop acting like an arrogant brat!”

kageyama nearly pouted when he heard you call him by his surname. you hadn’t used it for the whole time he knew you. maybe he really had messed everything up this time, but it was too late for apologies now

“i don’t need to explain anything to you! i never even cared about you in the first place! you were always annoying. clinging to my sleeve like some child.”

your eyes were beginning to fill with tears and kageyama felt like he had been punched in the gut when a few rolled down your cheeks. stop it, he told himself. you’re screwing it all up! don’t lost her like this! but he wouldn’t listen, not even to himself

wiping at your eyes with your sleeve, you sniffled then flares up at the boy you used to call your favorite person in the world

“you know what? you’re the king now, great job! you’re the greatest player on the team. but, you’re also the worst human being i’ve met! you care abut no one but yourself and only think about your own future, disregarding everyone else who tries to help you!”

kageyama had never seen you this angry and it terrified him. perhaps, some part of him always thought you would come back to him, sit with him on the gym steps again and count the stars in the sky as he rested his head on your shoulder but that was all gone now

“so im done, kageyama. stay away from me, got it?”

as soon as you turned around, he reached out for you, pulling his arm back as soon as it left his side. why had it had to happen like this? why was he so selfish? if only he had accepted your help, then he still would have had you by his side

maybe he would get another chance one day. if the world allowed him, he would reincarnate as someone who could love you the way you deserved. someone who didn’t push you away, and just maybe... you could love one another again

“hi, im kageyama tobio. it’s nice to meet you.”

“im oikawa yn! it’s nice to meet you too!”

[bffsoobin]

Apartment 370

↳everything about your apartment was perfect. Aside from your neighbor. Choi Soobin has become the bane of your existence. You can’t go a single day without looking over your shoulder for your misleadingly handsome neighbor. Just how many petty pranks does he think he can get away with?

➤ enemies to lovers!au, neighbors!au, arguments, petty behavior, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 3,062

Requested?: yes

Warnings: none really other than swearing and Soobin kind of being an ass. I also didn’t proof read or edit this, as per usual.

A/N: To be honest I’m feeling a little unsure about this? I loved the concept and I’m very glad that a lovely follower requested it but I feel like lately all of my writing has started out really well and then just got progressively worse? Like all of the endings I write are just kind of lame? Just a weird insecurity I’ve been encountering lately. So please leave me some feedback on what you think about this!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You loved your apartment. It was small, but just right for you to live in. The shower had hot water, your bedroom had a beautiful window for your plants to sit on and the wifi connection was always working well. You even only had to travel up two flights of stairs if your elevator stopped working. There were a lot of pros to living at your complex. But there was one, massive, glaring and obnoxiously loud con. Choi Soobin. When he had moved in next to you, you tried to be nice. You knocked on his door and introduced yourself; making some kind of lame joke about borrowing sugar. 

He didn’t laugh. He just introduced himself back and apologized for not having any sugar. Apologized? Had he really missed the joke that bad? Your delivery had been impeccable. Despite his charming face and annoyingly adorable style, you decided there was no way you could be friends with someone who didn’t understand a classic joke. 

Soobin must have decided there was a reason he didn’t like you either, because just about a week into being neighbors he began to wreak havoc. He played music as loud as it possibly could be at the weirdest times of the day and yelled at his television way too much no matter what he was watching. It seemed like every day you had to storm over and knock on his door to complain. This went on for weeks until he finally agreed to stop when you threatened to involve your burly landlord in the matter. 

For a few days, you enjoyed peace and quiet. You came and went from work without seeing him, took naps in silence and remembered how it felt to cook in your own kitchen without the sound of a twenty something year old man screaming at reruns of Survivor as background music. 

As they say, ignorance is bliss, because little did you know Soobin’s silence was about to erupt into a new, massive volcano of stupidity. One night you woke up around 4 am to the sound of scratching coming from the wall that connected your and Soobin’s bedrooms. You were already annoyed at the fact that you had to be up at 7am to pick up an early shift for your slacking coworker, so you didn’t have it in you to just roll over and go back to bed. You couldn’t have if you wanted to anyway because the scratching noises were only getting more and more persistent. You flung yourself out of bed with a groan. Pets were allowed here, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Soobin had gotten a cat who decided to be a little extra scratchy. 

You poured yourself a glass of water in the kitchen, hoping to clear your mind and sort your thoughts. In the silence of the night, you could hear Soobin’s panicked voice through the thin walls. It sounded like he was on the phone with someone, as you could hear pauses as if he were listening to someone else. What a weird fucking dude, you thought. With eyes still drooping you walked back to your bedroom. The cat would have to be done scratching at the wall by now, right?

Wrong. The same consistent noise that would surely haunt your dreams still persisted. Knowing Soobin was awake gave you enough grounds to throw on a sweatshirt over your sleep clothes and go knock on his door. 

When it swung open, you could see just how distraught he was. His usually fluffy hair was flat and knotted and his eyes were sporting huge dark circles that only made the panic in them amplified. Wait, panic?  

“Y/N, I’m really sorry but you need to leave,” he had the door open just far enough to stick his head and shoulders out, as if he were trying to hide something. 

“No, Soobin. I heard your cat scratching at the wall and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I can’t sleep. Can’t you lock it in the bathroom or something?” His face scrunched in confusion. 

“A cat? I don’t have a cat.” Your insides boiled with hatred at the idea of him trying to lie his way out of this. 

“Listen up Choi. Unless you have a dragon in your bedroom scratching the shit out of the walls, I don’t want to deal with your lies. Just take care of it! I need my beauty sleep and you and your noisy cat aren’t helping at all.” Soobin’s face paled and for a second you thought that you had finally won. And then Soobin said:

“It’s not a cat. It’s a racoon.” 

You almost fell onto your ass right in the hallway. Soobin’s eyes sparked with a type of mirth you never thought such an admittedly gorgeous face could possess. 

“I’m calling the landlord.” You snapped the door shut in his face and turned away.

That had apparently been the final straw for Soobin. The next day when you got back from work, you found a handwritten “RACOON HATER” sign taped to your door. What you found inside was somehow even more unsettling. Your whole living room and kitchen had been essentially trashed. Throw pillows and blankets were thrown haphazardly on the floor, many of your photos and art you had on the walls were switched around or taken down altogether. And the worst of it all; everything was covered in a fine dust of glitter. It was a struggle to find a single surface that wasn’t covered in glitter, really. 

A new type of dislike for Choi Soobin brewed in your stomach. Hatred. Your kitchen counter- also covered in a dust of chunky silver glitter- became the victim of your frustrations as you slammed your hands down. It would cost you so much time and money to get all the glitter out of your living spaces, let alone the fact that you'd inevitably be leaving some behind for the next poor soul to rent this apartment. Gritting your teeth, you went to work with your poor little vacuum. 

You had only managed to clean your coffee table and half of your couch before you heard a series of loud knocks on your door. You grumbled at the idea of having to take a pause in your work but you trudged over to the door anyway. 

To be honest, you had no idea who you were expecting to see behind your apartment door-which you belatedly realized was still decorated with Soobin’s handmade sign- but you didn’t think it would be the man himself. 

Soobin stood in the hallway, picture perfect as always. His face was tan and smooth and free from any possible blemishes. Had he plucked his eyebrows? They were groomed to neat perfection. His tall frame was dwarfed by a fuzzy blue sweatshirt that was easily a size too big. If you had met him by chance on the street, you would have fallen in love in an instant. But you knew better. You knew he was the one who reduced your once lovely apartment into the mess it was now.

“Oh, sorry,” he feigned innocence, “are you busy?” He didn’t even try to hide the smirk that blossomed on his face. A grumble of a curse fell from your lips before you responded. 

“Yeah. Some asshole decided to break into my apartment and spread glitter on everything. So yes, I’m sort of busy,” you laced your voice with enough venom to kill a horse, and it seemed as if Soobin had gotten the message as he shrunk back into the hallway a bit. His mouth opened and shut in rapid succession as he struggled to find the perfect retort. 

“I-” he cut himself off as his soft eyes became hyper focused on a spot on your face. Suddenly you were a new combination of concerned and offended. His hand hesitantly rose toward your face before the softness of his fingertips made contact with your cheek and brushed something away. You held your breath the entire time, unsure if you should be upset or worried or utterly lost in the way his skin felt against yours. The contact was brief but still made your skin burn bright red. When his hand left your cheek, you saw that he had brushed away a piece of glitter that was now resting delicately on his fingertip. 

“Sorry,” he hurried out, “I just wanted to get the glitter off of your face.” His whole demeanor had changed, and you were sure that whatever plan he had in mind when he knocked on your door had vanished. 

“Okay, weirdo,” you tried to ignore the way you were yearning to feel his touch again, “I’m still busy so can you like, go away?” Upon hearing your words he turned away to head for his apartment door with ears as red as you’d ever seen them. 

Although the glitter incident was now months behind you, you still often found pieces in random spots around your home. And Soobin was still a pain in your ass. He had been quiet for close to two weeks after your odd encounter and you were almost convinced that he had changed his ways. You were quickly proven wrong when he conned the man who works the front desk into hiding your mail for a week straight; making you subsequently late to paying some of your bills. 

More recently, a new person had moved into the apartment across the way. The first day you met him, you were busying yourself with taping up Soobin’s door with bright pink duct tape from the outside. Your new neighbor-who you learned to be named Yeonjun- had squatted down right next to you and offered to help tear pieces of the tape. 

You and Yeonjun had become fast friends. He was incredibly charming and willing to lend an ear every time you needed to complain about Soobin. For a while, you were almost able to forget the fact that the devil incarnate lived next door to you. While your work schedules tended to be a little crazy, the two of you managed to talk for at least a few minutes every day. He helped you gain some sanity back within your apartment hallway. 

Despite also being friends with Soobin, Yeonjun never took sides in your little feud; but you were always secretly worried that somehow Soobin would put a bug in his ear. One day, about two months after Yeonjun had moved in, he knocked on your door while you were in the middle of making dinner. You invited him in but he hesitated. 

“I just came to talk to you,” he bit into his bottom lip, “I really like you. But I don’t see us ever being more than friends. I hope you understand.” You scrunched your eyebrows. Where was this coming from? 

“Uh okay? I know that. I don’t like you...like that, Yeonjun. Did you hit your head or something?” You were seriously confused. Yeonjun’s eyes widened comically. 

“Well Soobin said that-“ as soon as the words fell out of his mouth Yeonjun put together the invisible puzzle pieces. His face morphed into extreme regret.  “I’m so sorry. I should have known it was part of your weird prank war. You should have seen how convincing his acting is though, he really had me thinking you had a crush on me.” You scoffed at the idea of Soobin beginning to spread rumors to one of your closest friends just for the hell of it. If Yeonjun hadn’t been mature enough to address it right away, you could have gone through weeks of confusion about why he was avoiding you.

You looked back at your kitchen, catching sight of the steaming bowl of ramen you’d just finished making. Sighing, you shut your door behind you to stand in the hall with Yeonjun. He looked sheepish in your presence as you laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m not mad at you, Yeonjun. I’m going to talk to the bane of my existence,” you gestured toward the door with the shiny ‘370’ plaque. “Just don’t bother calling the landlord if you hear yelling.” As soon as you heard the sound of Yeonjun’s door snapping shut, you laid into Soobin’s door with a heavy knock. As soon as it was opened far enough, you wedged your body inside and subsequently sent Soobin stumbling backwards. 

“How dare you?” You roared, throwing your hands in the air dramatically. “I’m fine with your petty pranks and all the other stupid shit you pull against me because that’s all between the two of us. At least it’s funny and gives me something to think about in my free time. But when you start to involve my friends? That’s way too far. There was no reason to rope Yeonjun into this. He’s your friend too, Choi.” Soobin seemed surprised that you had come in with so much to say right off the bat.

“Y/N it’s really not that big of a deal. I just wanted to see if you actually had the capacity to have a crush on someone. And you’ve been spending so much time with Yeonjun I figured he’d be the perfect person to test my theory with, plus the humiliation factor of him not liking you back would have kept me entertained for days” he sat down on his couch casually, “I guess he had to break it to you that you aren’t as flirty and irresistible as you think you are, huh?” The air crackled with tension as you gawked down at his sprawled form.

“What are you even saying? Yeonjun and I are just friends. And why does it matter to you if I have the capacity for a crush or not? You hate me. If you’re just waiting until I get a boyfriend so that you can come in and ruin it all with your shitty vendetta then you’re much worse of a person than I ever pegged you for!” Tears welled in your eyes but you wiped at them angrily. Out of all the fights and disagreements you’d ever had with Soobin, this was the first one that stirred an odd emotion in the pit of your stomach. You were tired of the back and forth. Soobin seemed oddly alarmed at the formation of your tears as he got up from the comfort of his couch and approached you like a wounded dog. 

“Trust me, I have no grand plan to ruin your life at every turn even though that’s what you think. You spend so much time with Yeonjun, I thought maybe you liked him. I knew he didn’t like you because when I told him that I-” Soobin actually clapped his own giant hand over his mouth as the words hung in the air between you. Anger shot through your mind at the idea that he didn’t even have the guts to relay the entire story. 

“You what? You’re so wrapped up in your own little world but you can’t even finish telling me what you said to someone else? I can’t believe you, honestly,” you turned and made your way toward his door, wanting nothing more than to go home and take a hot shower. Soobin’s hand clasped around your wrist as he gently yanked you away from the exit. His strong grip kept you standing right in front of him and although you struggled against him, there was no use. 

“I told him that I like you.” For a second, you thought that you had misheard him, but he continued. “I told Yeonjun that I like you. And he told me that I should go for it, because he doesn’t see you as more than a friend. But I freaked out so I told him that you liked him. I knew you probably actually didn’t.” 

Your brain was short circuiting at the confession. Choi Soobin, who had complicated your life beyond belief since the day he moved in months ago liked you? 

“But,” your eyebrows drew together as you tried to comprehend it all, “you hate me, Soobin. We have a whole...rivalry! There’s no way you actually have feelings for me. I swear if this is just another prank I’ll shove my hand so far down your throat-“ Soobin threw his hands up in front of his body in a form of defense. 

“No! I don’t hate you, Y/N. I’ve liked you since the day we met. I just thought the pranks and petty stuff was like...our way of hanging out? That’s why I kept doing them. I thought you were having fun with me.” It was ridiculous how much he sounded like a little boy explaining his side of the story to a teacher. It was even more ridiculous that the corner of your brain where you’d stuffed all your feelings for Soobin began to overflow. 

“Haven’t you ever heard that there’s much better ways to tell someone you like them? We could have spent the last 11 months not at each other’s throats if you would have just manned up and found out I like you too.” You saw the exact moment that the words finally processed and his entire face lit up with the recognition. 

A familiar, deeply dimpled smile grew across his face as his skin reddened. He clasped his hands in front of him and swayed back and forth on his feet. Before you could think to stop him, he leaned in close enough that you worried he could hear your heart thumping against your ribs. 

“You like me too?” 

“Yes, Soobin. I like you too. And I would like you even more if you stopped your stupid pranks,” you tapped his nose with your pointer finger twice. He nodded eagerly with his tongue sticking out from between his teeth slightly.

“Deal,” he stuck his hand out to you and you raised an eyebrow to silently ask if he was serious. His hand didn’t waver, so you grasped it firmly and pulled him toward your body until you could wrap him into a tight hug. It was an odd feeling, soaking in Soobin’s scent as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth in his apartment. Odd, but good. Perfect.

[viastro]

kiss later | yoon jeonghan

ミ★ synopsis: by you putting jeonghan into a chokehold over him taking your banana milk, you and him were assigned to clean the classroom for two hours after classes ended. it doesn’t help that jeonghan is your sworn enemy, now does it?

ミ★ genre: enemies to lovers!au, humor, fluff, slight spice

ミ★ warnings: jeonghan’s just a little shit

ミ★ word count: 2,655

ミ★ pairings: jeonghan x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! it’s been a while since i’ve written a oneshot, my apologies hehe. i’ve been spending a lot of my time in trying to finish my upcoming jun series, remember us. i’d like to thank you guys again because i just hit 1,000 followers today! that’s a huge ass number and i never expected it to happen HBKSHTE but yeah that’s enough being sappy. i hope you guys enjoy this oneshot! 

“You’re the absolute bane of my existence.” You seethe, glaring at the handsome guy who’s cleaning the whiteboard across the room. Jeonghan just flashes you a shit eating smile, the type that makes his eyes disappear, before replying, “I feel the exact same way, sweetheart.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to prevent yourself from going feral, and Jeonghan turns back towards the whiteboard, spraying more cleaner onto the surface. You glance at the desk, frowning at the dirty wood as you begin wiping it again with a sponge.

Here the two of you are. An hour after classes ended, cleaning the whole classroom as punishment for what occurred earlier in the day. It doesn’t help that you and Jeonghan are quite literally enemies. How the feud began? You don’t know. That’s actually a lie, you know exactly when and why the two of you began hating each other.

“Jeonghan! Hannie!” Jeonghan glances up from his journal at the call of his name, noticing Seungcheol speedily passing through the other students filing into the classroom. He lets out a small smile once his friend makes it to his desk, practically panting at how fast he sped over. “Good morning to you too, Cheol.” 

“Did you hear?”

“About your rash? Cause I did. Do you want my cream-”

“No! This isn’t about- wait. How did you even hear about that?” Seungcheol asks, now looking more confused. Jeonghan gives him a grin, waving his hand to try and change the subject. “Not important, what did you sprint over here for?”

“Oh yeah. There’s a pretty new student being transferred to our class today. She came from Jeju Island. I feel kinda bad because it’s already our last year in high school and she has to make new friends.” Jeonghan raises an eyebrow in interest, about to ask where Seungcheol heard the news, only to turn his head when he hears their professor announce his presence.

“Good morning class, today we have a new student joining us.” He states, placing his papers down onto the podium in the front of the class. Seungcheol pats Jeonghan on the back, before walking over to his own desk. “You can come in.” 

You let out a breath, pushing your hair behind your ear, before stepping into the classroom. Immediately the whispers begin, and you feel your heart fall at the thought that your classmates may be making fun of you already. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow in interest, leaning forward onto his desk in an attempt to try and get a better look at you since you’ve been staring at the floor since you stepped into the classroom. You walk up beside the podium, and turn to face the class. 

“Introduce yourself.” Your professor whispers, and you nod your head. You finally look up at the class, and you feel warmth rise to your cheeks when you hear some of them comment on how they think you’re pretty. You let out a smile, and the class lets out a quiet, ah, at the sight.

“Hi, I’m yln yn. I moved here from Jeju Island, and I hope that you guys will take care of me.” You state, and your professor begins discussing the basic things he’s supposed to when introducing a new student to the class. You glance around the classroom, and lock eyes with a- holy shit he’s so fucking beautiful.

The ethereal looking boy you locked eyes with has black hair that falls over his forehead softly, and piercing eyes that are staring directly back at you. He has high cheekbones, and soft, pink lips, and- 

you’re staring. 

You turn away, feeling heat rush to your face, and Jeonghan lets out a small smile when he takes notice of your gaze looking at everything but him. He leans back into his seat, feeling intrigued by you once you refuse to glance his way after the teacher leads you to your desk. 

You sit down, placing your backpack beside your chair. You unzip it as quietly as you can, before reaching into your bag to grab your journal and pencil pouch. Once they’re in your possession, you sit back up straight and place them onto your desk. Glancing up from the tabletop, you feel a pair of eyes on you, and you turn your head to see the handsome guy from earlier looking at you with a small smile on his face.

You bow your head towards him, before turning back and attempting to pay attention to your professor’s lecture. You raise your hands to your face and cup your cheeks, covering the oncoming warmth.

Jeonghan grins, resting his chin on his hand, taking small glances at you for the rest of the period. 

Jeonghan was apparently so intrigued by you, that he didn’t know how to properly display it. His way of showing interest in a person, is being an annoying shithead. He had to explain that to Seungcheol when they first became friends because he was always offended whenever Jeonghan would cheat during one of their games. Or the time where he was so annoying when they’d play league that Seungcheol actually left the discord server once, so Jeonghan went to apologize. That’s just how Yoon Jeonghan is, he’d do anything to beat the people he cares about in a game.

but he never explained that to you.

“Dodgeball? Shouldn’t that game be banned…” You ask Tzuyu as you line up on the opposite side of the gym as the other team. She shrugs her shoulders, picking up a green ball and handing it to you, “It really should be. I heard that last year a girl got a whole ass black eye from this game.” 

“If I get a black eye from dodgeball, I’m absolutely going to hate the person who threw that ball.” You mutter, and Tzuyu lets out a laugh, shaking her head. You look at who’s competing against you on the other side of the gym, only to lock eyes with Jeonghan. His lips quirk up at the corner, and you raise an eyebrow at the sight.

what is he planning? You wonder once he looks away. You glance down at the floor, trying to fight back the warmth rushing to your cheeks, cursing yourself for still being so affected by the ethereal looking man. While Jeonghan watches you from his side of the gym once the PE coach places the whistle in his mouth, grinning at the thought of getting you out of the game.

“Let’s go.” Jeonghan mutters under his breath once the sound of the whistle resonates through the room, and he chucks the ball in your direction.

The last thing you see is the ceiling as everyone begins to surround you, asking if you’re okay. 

You glare at the memory of Jeonghan chucking the ball at your face, still managing to feel the embarrassment you felt that day all the same. You scrub the desk more aggressively, feeling anger coursing through your veins at the fact that Jeonghan is the reason you’re even here after hours anyways.

After Jeonghan made you blackout within the first few seconds of dodgeball, your guys’ dynamic did a complete 180 since he never apologized. Which may have been your fault since you started to be aggressive towards him but that’s a secret you’ll never tell. It went from the two of you smiling whenever you made eye contact, to you and Jeonghan getting into each other's faces when the other made a snarky comment. From asking each other for help on questions, to mocking each other when the latter would get the answer wrong. Instead of borrowing a pencil from the other, it’s now attempted murder with a 0.1 led mechanical pencil whenever it’s deemed necessary.

god. you loathe that handsome ass bitch.

Alright, you may still find Jeonghan incredibly attractive and quite literally your ideal type, but you will never admit that. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, before slamming the sponge down onto the desk, causing Jeonghan to turn to look at you with a bored expression on his face. “You know what!” 

“You have something else to complain about?” Jeonghan asks, and you internally scream. You walk up to him, and his eyes slightly widen at the close proximity between you two when you stand a few feet away from him. 

“We’re only stuck here cleaning the whole fucking clasroom because you’re an imbecile!” You shout, and Jeonghan’s eyes immediately squint at you. 

“An imbecile? Says the one who thought I stole her banana milk and decided to choke me!” 

“You literally did! It was on my desk when I went to the bathroom, and I came back to it being gone and in your hands!” 

“Finders keepers.” 

“That’s not how it works!” 

You step back into the classroom after using the restroom, walking over to your desk and taking a seat. You frown when you notice the banana milk you brought no longer sitting at the corner of your tabletop, and you look around your desk to see if it may have fallen, but it’s nowhere in sight.

“Where the fuck-” You look up once you hear that familiar god forsaken laugh, and your eyes land on the banana milk you brought in Jeonghan’s hands as he talks to his friend, Seungcheol. You squint, standing up and walking over to his desk without a second thought.

“Oh, hi...” Seungcheol begins, but trails off once he notices how angry you are. Jeonghan glances up at you, flashing a smirk.

“Hey yn.”

“That’s my banana milk.”

“Is it? I just found it around the classroom.” Jeonghan responds boredly, and you feel your eye twitch.

“Yeah. On my desk.” You state, and Jeonghan smiles at how annoyed you look. You clench your fists in an attempt to stop you from doing what you’re thinking, and it almost works. Until Jeonghan decides to open his mouth again.

“Guess you shouldn’t have left it out.” You reach out and grab the banana milk, squeezing it tightly and watching as it explodes onto Jeonghan’s face and uniform. Seungcheol raises a hand to his mouth in shock, and you just let out a quiet laugh at Jeonghan’s reaction. He reaches up and wipes his face with his hands, standing up from his seat and looking down into your eyes. 

“What the fuck is your problem yn?” Jeonghan asks in a cold voice, anger apparent in his voice as he stares at you. You give him a smile, “Oops. I didn’t even notice it was full.” 

Jeonghan lets out a laugh, before reaching down and grabbing the banana milk. He pours the rest over your head without another word, and your mouth drops open at the action. Jeonghan leans down so that you’re eye to eye, and gives you a shit-eating grin. “It’s what you deserved.” 

You attempt to count to three, you truly do. However, next thing you know, you’re being pulled off of Jeonghan by Seungcheol, and the professor is assigning you and Jeonghan detention. 

The punishment? Staying at school for two hours after classes ended to clean the classroom.

“You know, I’m not the only one to blame. You reacted like a fucking child when you saw that I took your drink, when you could’ve just asked for it back.” Jeonghan states, snapping you out of your memory. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets at the complete lie he just told you, wishing to just remember you choking Jeonghan for those godly few seconds.

but alas...

“No you wouldn’t have! You absolutely would not have given it back if I asked because you’re a shithead!” You shout, taking a step closer and getting into his face. Jeonghan glares down at you, not backing down from the challenge. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking infuriating. After what happened during gym a few months ago you always had such a horrible attitude towards me! You didn’t even give me the chance to explain or apologize!” You gape at Jeonghan, struggling to find words to retaliate with. He rolls his eyes, reaching back out towards the towel to begin cleaning the whiteboard again. 

“Oooo! You wanna kiss me so bad!” Jeonghan turns to glance at you, frown apparent on his features. 

“What?”

“You want to kiss me!! You wanna kiss me so fucking bad!!” You shout once more, and Jeonghan clenches his fist at his side. 

“You, Yoon Jeonghan, want to kiss me!” Jeonghan’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, and you feel your heartbeat rapidly beat against your chest as the two of you stare at each other in silence. “Say that one more time, I fucking dare you.” Jeonghan states, and your eyebrows furrow as more rage builds up within your body.

You open your mouth to say it again when suddenly Jeonghan’s reaching out and resting his hand on your neck, pulling you close and pressing his lip to yours. Your eyes immediately widen at the contact, before you slowly melt into his arms and entangle your hand into his hair. 

The kiss is full of anger, the two of you clashing and biting each other's lips. However, you can’t deny the feeling of butterflies in your stomach. While Jeonghan can’t hide the fact that he’s literally blushing and the goosebumps rising onto his skin the more he kisses you. 

“You’re so,” Jeonghan’s hands fall onto your hips and lift you up onto the desk mid-sentence. “fucking,” You bite his bottom lip and he pinches your waist in retaliation, eliciting a squeal from you. “infuriating.” 

“Me? Infuriating?!”

“Just be quiet and kiss me.”

“You’re the one who’s annoying!”

After a moment of the two of you bickering in between kisses, you both pull away, foreheads resting against the others as you stare into each other's eyes. You have a lot of questions, as does Jeonghan, but do you want to ask them right now? 

“You’re annoying.” You state, feeling the anger simmer down. Jeonghan laughs at the pout on your lips, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose. “It’s my brand, pretty. I like riling up the people I’m interested in, but I may have went a bit too far with you.” 

“You think? You made me pass out during dodgeball.” You tell him, and Jeonghan smiles. 

“I’m sorry for chucking the ball too hard at you and for apologizing so late. I was too embarrassed to go up to you and tell you I was sorry.” Jeonghan explains, and you shrug your shoulders. 

“I guess it’s okay, I never really gave you a chance to anyways.” You mutter, and he giggles, making your heart flip within your chest at the sound. Jeonghan leans back to his full height, glancing around the empty classroom, before turning his head to look at the clock. 

5:45 PM.

Jeonghan turns his head back toward you, and gives you a mischievous grin. You raise an eyebrow at the sight, already beginning to feel suspicious at that familiar look, “What?” 

“Do you wanna spend the last 15 minutes cleaning the exact same desks you already cleaned? Or do you wanna make out on this table?” 

Feeling heat immediately rush to your face at the question, you raise a hand up to your cheek. Jeonghan’s mouth drops open slightly in awe at sparkles in your eyes, feeling his heart warm slightly. You grin at him, “I think there’s an obvious answer to that question.” 

Jeonghan smiles, raising his hands up to cup your face, and you stare into his eyes. “You know we still need to talk about us after, right?” 

“Of course.”

“Okay, great.” You let out a breath, and Jeonghan chuckles soon afterwards. He shakes his head, before leaning in and capturing your lips once again.