#I was reading the chapter just WAITING for him to say a snarky comment

[dr-pipis]

motherfucker do you not have anywhere better to be

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 8 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: this one is a bit on the shorter side, but I promise next chapter will be juicy! 😉

W/C: 3.086

part seven

"Wait- why am I actually kind of bitter about this?"

I mumble, looking up at Luis. He turns around, moving his camera away to look at me.

"Bitter about what?" He asks, fidgeting with the settings of the device.

"They literally crap out money- but get a free BMW?" I question, folding my arms.

"Oh, please. Will you stop being such a negative person?"

He gives me a nasty look, his hand coming to grab my arm.

"Or go sit in the car..?" He adds, pointing behind me.

"No, it's too hot to sit in the car.." I complain, adjusting my sleeve.

"Why did you even follow me here in the first place?" He asks, raising his brows.

"I was done with my to-do list and didn't want to stay cooped up in the office.."

Not to mention to avoid the insanely annoying looks I had been receiving ever since those stupid rumors and photos had been out.

"Okay, just stay back and watch then.."

I watch him make cinematic shots of each individual model and car. My patience begins to thin when he's still busy with it twenty minutes later.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to keep myself busy. I carefully scroll through my Instagram explore page, ignoring the thousands of follower requests to my account.

The internet was very quick, so within hours of my face being online, people had found both my full name and social media accounts.

"y/n!"

I freeze, holding my phone against my chest, and turn in the direction the noise came from.

I make immediate eye contact with Valeria, her obnoxiously fake smile burning my eyes instantly.

"Yeah? Anything wrong with the shoot?" I ask, shoving my phone into my pocket.

"No, the players have just arrived- and it's a better look if you're off your phone and look interested."

I fight the urge to snort at her ridiculous comment, and just nod before I lose it.

"Sure, any reason you're here today? It's only for some short clips..”

I watch her take a step forward, a hand reaching up to her hip. She moves her neck in a weird way, staring at me for a moment.

"It's always good to see how my juniors work, and how close they are to the players is really something I like keeping an eye on.."

Oh- surprise, she was here for something stupid!

I was already over her snarky remarks, especially those insinuating a romantic relationship between Jude and me.

The thought only makes me want to gag.

I shiver at the cursed idea, noticing a few players already walking over to check out the new car they chose, and look back at Valeria.

"Well, I'm sure some of the guys really need your presence and knowledge. Please, go and join them.."

I instigate, hoping and wishing she goes to bother Toni instead.

For some reason, he could handle her bullshit really well.

"Oh, don't mind if I do.." She chuckles, immediately turning her back to me and walking away.

I sigh in relief, rubbing my nape to try to release some tension from my body.

I begin walking up to the cars myself, reading off every license plate to see which player got what model.

I stop at the car chosen by Aurélien, observing the details of the 'i4 eDrive35'.

« Très belle, non? » I hear him say. I nod, pursing my lips.

« Le couleur- noir est parfait.. » I compliment, stepping back to get a better view.

I open my mouth to say something else- but I'm startled by a loud car horn, it almost makes my eardrums explode. I shut my eyes tightly, not reacting fast enough to cover my ears properly.

"What the fuck.." I mumble, looking to my left. An obviously aggravated expression on my face, because who the hell thought that was a good idea?

“Jude! Get out of your mom’s car, please!” I exclaim, seeing him stand at the driver’s door.

The man couldn’t even drive, but got to choose a car for himself?

Not even that- he also chose the most expensive model worth more than a hundred thousand euros?

Life is so unfair.

“You’re standing in the way!” He exclaims, walking around to sit in the passenger seat. Another staff member comes over to drive him around the parking lot.

I give him a nasty look, stepping aside and looking back at Aurélien.

“Why don’t you join him?” He suggests, an obvious smirk on his face.

“What? Why would I do that?” I ask, raising my brows and folding my arms defensively.

“You know- nice car and fun drive..” He trails off, glancing at the moving car.

“I would feel like I’m in danger without him even being the driver..” I state, shielding my eyes from the sun with my hand.

He chuckles, as if to mock the fear for my safety. I shrug it off, looking behind me to see where Luis is.

“Come on- get in the car and I’ll get Luis to do a little video..” I usher, walking away to get Luis.

The entire shoot takes us about an hour before we’re finally done. I quickly bid farewell and thank fellow staff members for their hard work before jumping into my car.

I go to start my car, looking up to see where Luis is. I roll my windows down, letting some fresh air into the car, hoping he’ll be here quickly.

“No- it’s just annoying because I’m trying to do my job properly and I’m getting the craziest stares. Like, does having a conversation with someone mean we’re married with three kids and a chihuahua?!” I exclaim, looking at Amira on FaceTime.

“And you attended his match, and you wore his name on your shirt and spoke to his family and-"

I cut her off with a loud groan, rubbing my eyes in irritation.

“You’re the one who set me up!”

“I thought you already knew it was his shirt! Should I have worn Jude’s while you wore Trent’s?” She defends herself, a smirk forming on her lips.

I shake my head, dropping my pencil on the table.

I had been studying all day and had stopped the instant Amira called me.

“The way I can’t even get mad at anyone about this- ugh..” I complain, shifting in my chair.

“And those follow requests are so annoying..”

I grumble, totally aware of the fact that I had been complaining about literally every single thing and then some.

“Girl, if you set your account on public again and accept those followers..”

“What? I’m going to clout chase being that douche's fake girlfriend?”

“Obviously?”

“I have to take over my dad’s firm one day, and you want me to be known for dating my coworker?”

“Too late-"

I stop paying attention to what she’s saying when the front door opens, my gaze moving to see my dad walking in.

“I’m going to call you back later.” I mutter to Amira, waving at her until she hangs up.

I close my laptop, standing up to walk over to the door.

“Hey, dad- you’re late.” I say, grabbing his laptop bag off of him.

“I had a lot of work to review. Did you have dinner?” He asks, hanging his coat up on the coat rack.

“I had some of the food auntie Carmen made. You?”

“We all had dinner in the office. Everyone has been going home late these days.” He says, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before loosening his tie.

“With what?” I ask, setting his laptop bag on the table, prying into his business.

“Can’t say, but- don’t you think you need to tell me something?” He suddenly asks, turning to me.

I freeze, looking at him with wide eyes.

What the hell would I be hiding from him?

“Uh- no? I’m not sure what you’re talking about?” I state, scratching my nape in confusion.

“Are you sure?” He presses on, coming to hold onto my shoulders.

“I’m sure. What am I supposed to hide from you?” I ask, getting rather defensive, a frown forming in between my brows as I keep staring at him.

He notices my irritation, letting go of my shoulders and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Okay- I understand. Don’t get all angry at me..” He says, smiling.

“I’m not angry- just confused..”

“Forget I asked- How was work? How about you tell me about that instead?”

I purse my lips, looking down at my laptop.

“Alright, the players got new cars, so we had to do a shoot for BMW..” I mutter, fiddling with my notebook.

“You look so down, y/n. What? Are you jealous? I got you your new Audi less than two years ago..”

“What do you mean, dad? I love that car, would not exchange an Audi for a BMW- I have some car knowledge.” I state, my expression changing as I explain to him.

“That’s right! Come to me when you really want to change your car. I’ll call up some people I know.”

I make my way towards the printer, looking for the documents I had sent over to be copied a couple hours ago. Finding them, I quickly read them through to confirm the pages are complete, until I’m stopped by Hugo.

“Are you ready for El Classico week?” He asks, making a copy of something.

Most people, as in football fans, would say an El Classico is a match you shouldn’t miss. The long-standing rivalry between the two clubs was always interesting to watch, and I would definitely agree a hundred percent-

Only, if it didn’t mean we had to ensure our match posts, interviews, and statements were properly prepared and triple-checked and approved days leading up to the match.

Of course, I loved watching the game- but the way it exhausted literally everyone involved was no fun.

What made it harder was the fact that we had a whole Champions League match to worry about first. To sum it all up, no one was getting sleep for the next two weeks.

“Yeah, just really busy with preparations.” I reply, folding the corner of the documents.

“Good luck, we’ve all been having sleepless nights. It will be worth it in the end- you’ve experienced this before. Just keep on doing what you always do.”

I nod in acknowledgment, smiling at him.

“You’re right, we will put our best foot forward.” I give him a thumbs up, chuckling.

“Good- I’ll see you at lunch. Work hard!” He encourages, patting my shoulder before leaving with his printed papers.

I sigh in relief when he leaves, making my way up to my desk. I place the documents on the table, before running down to the pitch. Having to finish some last-minute recording of the match preparations.

I walk over to the pitch, training is already in full motion, and I notice Luis already there. I look around for any other staff members, only seeing the creepy guy I ran into weeks ago standing across the pitch.

The guy was a walking, real-life jumpscare at this point. I’d only run into him at random moments, and the way he’d look at me had my heart leaping into my throat.

“You’re late.” Luis complains, bringing me out of my thoughts, fiddling with a black cable.

“Did those two minutes kill you?” I ask, sighing, and look at the players who were training.

“Of boredom, yes..” He replies, and I notice the small- very slight compliment in his words. A smile forming on my face as I chuckle.

“We would’ve been absolutely fucked if Kepa didn’t save that one..” I mutter, insanely stressed, as I eye the scoreboard in the Lluís Companys Olympic Stadium. A temporary stadium FC Barcelona had been using for this season.

“Don’t say that- you have no trust in this team whatsoever..” Luis complains, looking up at me.

“Who will score?” I ask, we loved guessing who would score and assist goals during every match.

“Jude.” He immediately says, not hesitating one bit.

“No- I’m guessing Vinicius..” I say, eyes darting back to my laptop screen.

“I will be right- just watch..”

“It’s his second El Classico and his first in season one. What is he going-” I immediately stop talking when I notice a chance to score, my hands tangle into my shirt as I see how much space there is to score.

I gasp, and my jaw slacks open when Jude scores an absolute screamer, which I’d obviously never admit to him.

“I told you!” Luis screams, celebrating like it’s his birthday. I scoff, secretly happy we were put out of our 0-1 misery, and search for the draft I’m supposed to publish.

A couple minutes pass, it’s almost full time, and extra time is finally announced. The away side is full of Madridistas, all sitting on the edge of their seats until Luca kicks the ball towards Jude and GOAL!

The away side celebrates happily, with another El Classico win in our pocket. I quickly manage and do what I have to do, before we both get up to go back inside.

I was both delighted and annoyed at the fact that we won. Of course, it’s always amazing to win a match like this, especially when we were doing so well this season. Also because it’s Luca’s 500th match, and an assist is pretty amazing to pull off on a day like this.

The only thing making me have bitter feelings was the fact that I had to interview Jude today. Normally, Man Of The Match interviews with him were already horrific to experience. An elaborate interview with him, after I’d been avoiding him like the plague, wasn’t necessarily something I would want to do.

“Can you go first? I’ve got to pee really badly..” I say to Luis, placing my bag down and running towards the restroom. Finishing my business up quickly and washing my hands thoroughly.

I look around me for a bit, knowing that sometimes players would use these restrooms as well. I had heard about instances where the players of the opposite team had raged against our team’s staff members. Which definitely had me watching my back in moments like these.

I had interacted with some players of FC Barcelona, and they hadn’t been disrespectful so far.

Thus, I’m not too fazed when the door to the restroom opens. I look up as a sweaty and tired Ferran Tores walks in.

We make immediate eye contact, and I nod in greeting, shooting him a quick ‘hello' before pulling some paper towels from the dispenser to dry my hands.

He seems to be seething in anger, so I break eye contact, looking away.

“This is a staff bathroom, are you aware of that?”

He suddenly says, water splashing from the faucet as he begins washing his face.

“Sorry?” I question, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Not for girlfriends.” He mutters, turning the faucet off.

My face twists into one of confusion, the words throwing me for a loop. Seems like he notices, and he opens his mouth again.

“You’re Bellingham’s girl, aren’t you? This is the staff restroom.” He enunciates every single word as if I’m a kindergartner, it makes me freeze for a second.

I struggle to stop myself from reacting thoughtlessly, not knowing if I should be crying or laughing.

My hand reaches for my staff badge hanging from my neck, waving it in front of his face.

“Do I look like a girlfriend?” I ask, dropping my badge and stepping out before he can apologize.

Asshole, losing doesn’t give you the right to be so damn rude.

How could I even get rid of these stupid fucking rumors?

“Okay, smile!” I exclaim, holding Luis’s camera up to take a photo of the squad. With the happiness of winning an El Classico and the celebration of Luca's milestone came a lot of excitement and enthusiasm.

I hold back a chuckle at the sight of Aurélien laying on the floor, instructing some of them to move a bit for a better shot.

We take multiple photos together, staff members taking photos with the squad while I force them to stand in front of the camera.

“y/n, come here, and we’ll take a picture!” Antonio urges, snatching the camera off of me and pushing me to stand in front of the camera.

I feel myself being pushed, until I find myself almost pressing into Jude’s side.

I curse to myself, forcing an awkward smile as I pose next to everyone.

“What? Surely, you don’t think I bite?” Jude whispers, his arm dropping to his side.

“Please, shut up and pose. We still have that interview, so don’t start now..” I mutter between a clenched smile, pretending I’m not fazed.

I hear a soft chuckle, a mocking and breathy ‘sure’ leaving his mouth.

It gives me shivers down my spine, and I fight the urge to step on his shoe, focusing on posing instead.

This will be a long, long interview..

“You should’ve told me you’re leaving.” I mumble, mouth full of cereal and milk.

“Sorry, been so busy, didn’t even come to mind.” My dad says, walking around the house as he gets ready for work.

“Where is that blue tie I just got?” He shouts from his room.

“I ironed it! It’s in the bottom drawer!” I shout, scrolling through my messages.

“Got it!”

I hum, chugging the leftover milk in my bowl before standing up from the dining table.

“When are you going? Will you be gone for long?” I ask, watching him put the tie on in his bedroom.

“This weekend. It’s a crucial case, so I’ll be back when it’s totally over. Don’t get up to mischief. I know how you get when you’re home alone.” He points, giving me a stern look.

“Yeah, sure, I will plan a house party or two..” I joke, but it doesn’t land as he continues staring me down.

“Okay! I will be a responsible adult and call you or auntie Carmen when something happens..”

“Good, I’m leaving to get to work. Will you be back on time for dinner?” He says, grabbing his paperwork and laptop bag.

“Yeah, can we order in tonight?” I give him a pleading look, walking him out.

“You know I can’t deny my daughter happiness in the form of burgers and fries...”

[vespidphoenix]

Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter | Masterlist

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan. 

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.” 

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway. 

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes. 

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.” 

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

“Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: “And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously. 

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear. 

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again. 

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal. 

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. Sanji feels something shift in him at Amy’s words—not a jarring shift like a fall or a sudden change of perspective, but a shift like the changing of plans or steering a vessel in a new direction. A shift like soil making way for growing roots.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?” 

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack.  “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness. 

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Ch. 24

Relevant tags/content warnings: Crosshair/Original Female Character, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, 18+/Explicit

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11 l Ch. 12 l Ch. 13 l Ch. 14 l Ch. 15 l Ch. 16 l Ch. 17 l Ch. 18 l Ch. 19 l Ch. 20 l Ch. 21 l Ch. 22 l Ch. 23

Chapter 24 summary: The squad searches an abandoned facility for clues to the whereabouts of the missing clones.

“So…how was it?” Wrecker demanded exuberantly, clapping Crosshair on the back hard enough to shove him forward a few feet. The sniper glared at his brother, huffing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted. He did, of course—Wrecker could only be referring to one thing. Crosshair was actually surprised that Wrecker had managed to hold back on the subject for this long, chatting away about nothing in particular the whole morning while they searched for any clue as to what the Empire had been doing here.

Now, as they waited for the others to join them outside the abandoned facility, Wrecker had apparently finally deemed it the right time to gossip. It was just Crosshair’s luck that he was stuck with the two nosiest members of the squad—barring, perhaps, Omega. Hunter had already scolded him, and he suspected he wouldn’t hear another word about it from him unless the Sergeant felt like it had become disruptive for the team. Tech would surely make a snarky comment or two, but he wouldn’t expect to receive any information directly from Crosshair, preferring to observe and come to his own conclusions. No, it was Wrecker and Echo who were the problem, and already Crosshair could tell by the look on Echo’s face that he was relishing the opportunity to pry. Sure, he would act all innocent and embarrassed as long as Omega or Dara herself were around, and maybe he wouldn’t want every sordid detail, but the ARC was a busybody, and everyone knew it.

In fact, Echo and Wrecker were exchanging gleeful looks right now, their grins positively wolfish.

“Oh, I think you know, Crosshair,” Echo teased. “It took you two long enough. Thought the Marauder might blow up from the amount of sexual tension. Felt like we were losing oxygen in there the last few weeks.”

The sniper crossed his arms and looked away sullenly.

“Aww, come on, Crosshair! You should be happy! We all know ya like her.” Crosshair just barely managed to sidestep Wrecker, who was reaching out for what was likely to be a bone-crushing hug.

“No, I don’t,” he muttered petulantly. “It was just sex.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Sure it was.”

“Piss off,” Crosshair growled. “I mean it. In case you forgot, the person you all thought she was is a lie. In reality, she’s stubborn and hotheaded and she spied on us. Not to mention, Wrecker, that she shot you.”

Wrecker rolled his eyes and gestured accusatively. “Yeah, well, you shot me before too! And that time wasn’t a stun!”

“That’s not the point,” Crosshair snapped. “The point is that we hate each other and last night was nothing but a chance to finally let all that out. It was a quick, rough fuck in the woods and that’s all.”

Echo grinned slyly and cleared his throat. “Oh? How quick?” He managed to dodge the shove that Crosshair aimed at him, but not the toothpick that the sniper flicked at his face.

Wrecker, on the other hand, knit his brows together in concern.

“So…it wasn’t good?” he asked.

Crosshair scoffed, then let a smirk just barely lift the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t say that.”

Echo guffawed, and Wrecker brightened considerably, the grin returning. “Knew it.”

The sniper inserted a new toothpick and rolled it from one corner of his mouth to the other, his scowl returning. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Won’t happen again.”

Wrecker frowned. “Well, if it was good, then why not?”

Crosshair stared off in the direction of the facility, avoiding his gaze. “She’ll never be able to look past what I did with the Empire.”

“You’ve changed since then, Cross,” his brother insisted gently, resting an oversized hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll see it.”

The sniper rolled his eyes, unable to come up with a retort and uncomfortable at his brother’s all-too-typical display of vulnerability and emotional support. He was relieved when they were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the squad, though he took care to avoid looking anywhere in Dara’s direction.

If he had hoped that finally fucking would get her out of his system, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, he was worse, feeling drawn to her like a magnet so that he had to make the conscious effort to face toward the facility. The memory of her breathily moaning his name last night kept intruding into his thoughts.

With any luck, Hunter would continue to keep them separated as they searched the building, like he had split them into separate groups to scout this morning. Crosshair, still feeling the overwhelming urge to turn back towards her like a compass finding north, was certain that if they were alone together again he wouldn’t be able to resist touching her. He wasn’t prepared yet to find out if, after last night, she would even let him.

Hunter came to stand beside Crosshair and considered the building thoughtfully, no doubt tuning into his enhanced senses to assess the situation they were about to enter. “I’m not getting anything. Tech?”

“I am not scanning any heat signatures,” Tech affirmed from somewhere behind them. “This facility does, indeed, appear to be abandoned.”

“I hope it’s not ’cause of a giant monster or something. It always seems like it’s ’cause of a giant monster,” Wrecker groaned.

Tech blinked. “I have found no information to indicate that to be a concern on this planet, but much of its flora and fauna remains uncatalogued, so I am unfortunately unable to rule it out.”

“That’s real comforting, Tech,” Echo muttered.

The group approached the door cautiously. “Power’s out,” Hunter noted. “Wrecker?”

Grinning, the demo expert gave the panel a few well-placed hits from his large fist, denting it until it shifted out of place so that he could pry it open easily. The men activated their helmet lights while Dara and Omega pulled glowrods from their packs before proceeding into the darkened hallway.

“We shall have to restore power to see if we can access any information about this facility’s purpose,” Tech informed them.

Hunter nodded. “You and Echo go on ahead. We’ll do a sweep and see if we can find anything else useful.”

After the pair departed, the rest of the group took their time checking each room carefully, gleaning what information they could. The facility was not old, but the Empire had already been gone long enough for dust and debris to settle eerily in its corners. Some areas had been cleaned out entirely, leaving only faded outlines where equipment once stood, like ghosts imprinted along the walls. In others, state-of-the-art technology lay broken and derelict, unworthy of salvage. Their first clue as to the building’s purpose was revealed in a room still crowded with metal gurneys, the shattered remnants of broken vials, and chemicals gleaming in stoppered beakers.

“Woah,” Omega breathed. “I think this was a lab. Or some sort of medical center, maybe.”

Crosshair was staring hard into a corner of the room. “Is anyone else seeing that?” he asked.

“What is it? The rest of us can’t see everything you do, Cross,” Wrecker reminded him.

“Something’s…glowing,” the sniper explained.

“Hang on.” Dara fiddled with the settings on her glowrod until it emitted UV light, and the rest of the group was suddenly able to see the faint blue glow coming from the direction that Crosshair was facing. Amid a pile of shattered glass, one vial was cracked but remained intact, preserving the bright blue liquid inside. Dara stooped and carefully retrieved the vial, holding it up for the others with a knowing glance.

“This remind the rest of you of anything?”

Hunter furrowed his brow. “The chemical from the vault,” he pointed out, just as Crosshair murmured, “The river.”

Wrecker frowned. “What river?”

Crosshair hadn’t entirely meant to say it out loud. When Tech had launched into an explanation of bioluminescence as they were passing over the river yesterday, the daylight meant that its glow still wasn’t visible. Only he and Dara had seen it last night. The image of a nude Dara, haloed in blue, came into his mind unbidden. He shook away the thought as he explained, his voice clipped.

“Near the camp. There’s a bioluminescent river. It glows blue at night. Tech told us.”

Around them, the facility suddenly shuddered to life as the overhead lights came on.

“Indeed, I did tell you,” Tech informed them over comms. “That is most interesting. Echo and I are now proceeding to the facility’s records storage to determine if any data escaped being erased. It is too bad that the sample from Prium’s laboratory was lost—if we still had it, we would be able to determine if the chemicals are the same. As it is, we will have to rely on the rudimentary scan I took in the vault.”

“Ah… hmm. Well…” Dara stuttered. “I may have another confession.”

The clones in the room with her all turned to stare.

“What kind of a confession?” Echo growled over the comms.

Dara shrugged. “The vial didn’t actually get smashed. I thought it might be the project that Prium was working on for the Empire, and I was worried it might be dangerous. So I hid it. I was planning on taking it with me for us to study when I left. It’s still on the Marauder.”

“Well, that is most fortunate,” Tech replied cheerfully.

Dara looked relieved that he was taking it in stride, rather than holding it against her. “We’ll save the vial for you to match the sample from Prium’s lab, Tech,” she replied, holding her datapad up to the container. “For now, I’m sending you a scan of its chemical composition.”

Hunter just sighed and held a hand to his visor in exasperation. “Alright. Let’s keep moving,” he ordered.

The group returned to their search, but were stopped short a few doors later, when the panel slid open to flood the corridor with bright, midday sunlight. They stepped into the enormous room, whose roof and three sides were made of transparisteel. The area was divided by a series of raised beds in neat, even rows, though the soil that filled them was entirely devoid of plant life.

“A greenhouse?” Wrecker questioned.

Omega trailed her fingers through the nearest bed, swirling designs into the dirt. She grabbed a handful and gave it a curious sniff. “What were they growing?”

With a faint smile on his face at her futile mimicry, Hunter pinched his own sample and did the same, nostrils flaring slightly. “I think…they were growing that.” He gestured to Dara, who retrieved the herb they had found outside from her bag and handed it to him. He took a whiff of the plant and nodded firmly. “Yep, that’s definitely it.”

“Hey, guys,” Echo piped up over the comms. “We were able to restore some data that wasn’t erased properly. You might want to come meet us.”

Hunter held a hand up to his helmet. “There in a few,” he replied.

When the group had reunited with Tech and Echo, they all circled up, ready to report their findings. Echo’s brows were drawn together sharply with worry.

“Well, we were able to confirm that the missing clones were here,” he commented darkly. “We found a list of CT numbers. Dozens of them were being detained. But they’re not listed as prisoners—they’re listed as test subjects.” Hunter and Crosshair, who stood on either side of the cyborg, each laid a comforting hand on one of his shoulders. For obvious reasons after his imprisonment by the Techno Union, Echo was rather sensitive to the idea of experiments being conducted on sentients against their will.

Tech frowned sympathetically. “Yes. Unfortunately, the identical genetic makeup of clones makes us rather ideal for the purpose of controlling variables during the initial stages of scientific research.”

“Did you find any connection to Kumalon—Prium’s pharmaceutical company?” Dara inquired.

Echo shook his head. “We couldn’t retrieve much else—nothing on what they were testing or where the clones ended up.”

Omega frowned. “So we have some dug-up plants that the Empire was trying to grow indoors, a strange chemical that glows under UV light, and the clones are still missing.”

Hunter sighed. “We only have a few hours of daylight left. Wrecker, Tech, and Echo, search the rest of the facility in case anything else turns up. Dara, Omega and I will head back outside and look over the grounds—we might find more evidence of digging or a clue to where the clones are. Crosshair, head to the roof and check if you can see anything from a higher vantage point.”

The group separated, Crosshair searching for a roof access. By the time he emerged into the fresh air, Hunter, Omega, and Dara were exiting from the front of the facility where they had first entered. He watched through his scope as Dara and Hunter had a brief discussion before splitting up, Hunter and Omega heading right, while Dara headed left, each circling around the building’s perimeter. He did his own scan, searching the tree line that surrounded the facility for anything obviously out of place, but came up empty.

Finally, he found his scope drawn to Dara almost of its own accord. He tried to tell himself that he was just watching her back—Omega had Hunter to protect her, but Dara was alone, after all. He had pointedly kept his helmet turned away from her during their search of the facility, only allowing himself to check in on her out of the corners of his eyes. She, on the other hand, hadn’t looked at or spoken to him at all. He wondered if she could sense that he was watching her now. At the thought, he shifted his scope, checked in on Hunter and Omega’s progress—Omega was happily laughing at something as Hunter looked down on her with a fond smile—and scanned the area again.

When he turned back in the direction Dara had been walking, she had disappeared.

Crosshair forced down the uncharacteristic throb of panic clawing its way up his throat and searched again. She couldn’t have just vanished, there was no time, he must have just missed her somewhere, maybe she’d gone to check out something just inside the forest, she was—

There. Dara was scrambling her way back up over a small rise in the terrain between the facility and the tree line, looking the worse for wear, clothing coated in some sort of filth and debris. As he watched, she stood, turning and staring down at something he couldn’t quite make out, just beyond the rise. She bent over, brushing her hand against the soil, then suddenly dropped to her knees. He was just about to go against his better judgment and check if she was alright when her voice came through his comm.

“Crosshair.” It was a hoarse whisper, drained of strength.

“What happened?” He tried to keep his own tone even, although that inexplicable feeling of panic had not quit.

“Do you have eyes on Hunter and Omega?” Dara choked out. “Are they far from my position?”

With difficulty, Crosshair tore his scope away from the scene before him for long enough to locate the others.

“They’re still on the other side of the facility. What happened? Do you need help?”

Dara was facing away from him; her shoulders trembled, and he could hear a few shuddering breaths. After a tense moment, she stilled, and her breathing returned to normal. He heard a beep as she switched over to the open comm line.

“Hunter,” Dara began, voice now far steadier, although she stumbled over a few of her words. “I found—I found the missing clones. They’re dead.”

Next chapter

Tag list: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon @somewhere-on-kamino @morerandombullshit @zahmaddog

Thanks again to @cloneflo99 for the amazing banner!!!

Author's note: I think it's a fun idea to imagine that Crosshair's enhanced eyesight includes being able to see part of the non-visible spectrum.

[joz-yyh]

Love Host - Ch. 8 (Preview)

SUMMARY: Miles and Waylon meet up for some diagnostic testing that takes a very drastic turn. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (for this chapter ONLY!!)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 1,211

A/N: Doing my best to keep focused on these two long enough to finish another chapter. Comments and likes are very appreciated.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

Clang, Clang, Clang--!

Waylon looks up from his computer chair at the pedantic knock, knowing who his pertinent guest should be, double checking the security feed just to be sure Murkoff wasn't paying him any surprise visits.

There on the monitor, is a quiff of black hair and ugly olive jacket he'd recognize a mile away. Speaking of Miles –

Waylon opens the bean hole to the main door, the grinning blue eyes of Miles fucking Upshur waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey there, WayWay, I am here for my check up,” he greets with a smile, the wave he offers just out of sight, “Oh yeah, and Wally’s here too.”

The words barely register before the nanomachine has its whole face pressed against the peephole, staring back at Waylon, completely eyeless.

The techie nearly jumps out of his skin, shutting the slat out of paranoid instinct, body wrecked by a wave of heebeegeebees.

He can see it. Why can he see it when he couldn’t as much before?

“Heeeeyy,” Miles whines, voice dampened by the steel barrier between them, ”I am still waiting out here.”

Waylon internally groans, trying to collect himself enough to unlatch the many bars securing the entrance shut.

When the final lock cracks loose, Miles is too busy comforting the Walrider to notice, holding its caricature of a face and daresay, petting it.

“Ah, you can c-come in now,” Waylon offers, standing in the doorway, watching on with morbid fixation.

“There, see,” Miles exclaims, a consoling note to his voice, “He wouldn't invite us in if he didn't like us.”

Waylon swears this scene must be slowly melting his brain from the inside out.

“Hey, Way,” the brunette asks, turning his attention to his fellow asylum survivor, “could you tell Wally that you like him, please? He thinks you're scared of him. Isn't that silly?”

He isn't scared, he's terrified.

“Yeah, s-sure. I like him,” Waylon offers weakly, swallowing down his dread.

This was absurd. A machine couldn’t have feelings and even if it did, they were none more important than his own.

“Told you! Everything's fine,” Miles chippers, the Walrider finally appeased by this discovery.

The machine gazes toward Waylon again, breaking it’s body down into smaller pieces, swooping in close to swirl around Waylon knees, then higher, drifting in a cyclone of miniature storm clouds up to his shoulders.

“Uhh, hello again, I guess,” the engineer offers shakily, trying to appear fearless and brave, even lifting a finger to touch the nanite mist surrounding him. It feels like water.

“Thanks Waylon,” Miles says, patting him on the shoulder in good sportsmanship, stepping inside.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

And just like that, the nano machine leaves him to follow it’s host, the dazed software engineer reminding himself that he needs to rearm the door.

Before the reporter can poke his nose in further, Waylon locks the paddock, turning on the electric fence to deter any unwanted trespassers.

“So this is where you’ve been holding up,” Miles asks, taking in the abandoned barracks, a dimly-lit trailer filled with a junkyard of abandoned tech.

The Walrider is equally curious, ghosting around the layout, dosing the army green interior in supernatural mist.

“Not quite,” Waylon amends, running a hand down his face, feeling overwhelmed by the quirky demands of his company, “This is where I work. Keeps me a safe distance away from Lisa and the kids in case anything happens.”

“Safety is important. I am sure there are no OSHA recordables in here,” the snarky brunette remarks, dodging under a duct of loose wires.

“Ha ha funny,” the blonde remarks, devoid of amusement, “the device I want to show you is over here.”

Waylon grabs him by the wrist cuff before Miles can slip away to snoop, escorting him to the testing room.

“Aren’t you going to give me a tour first,” the sleuth whines, taking in as much of the space as he can, “you can’t tell me you have a secret lair and not show me around.”

“There's really not much to see,” Waylon growls, noting his companion’s inquisitive fingers, “Also please stop touching everything.”

“Awwww,” Miles whines, dragging his feet in disappointment, a frown setting in.

“Fine, maybe later,” the techie relents, his stride persisting, “We're kinda pressed for time.”

“Oh, somewhere you gotta be,” Miles asks, perking up at that confession, raising a brow at his companion, letting himself be tugged along more easily.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to be home every night to be with my wife and kids.”

A long pause, their combined footsteps echoing off the iron grates that line the floor.

“Am I invited,” the reporter asks, smirking at the back of Waylon’s unkempt head of hair.

Another aggravated tug on his sleeve.

“Let’s just get through the testing first.”

They arrive at their destination, the very back of the bunker, a T-shaped hub. One of the doors is sealed off, making Miles wonder what could be hiding in there, the rest of the room encased by steel shelves filled with gutted parts, radios, computers, phones and the like.

In the center is a chair outfitted with restraints, a litany of auxiliary cords hooked up to various loadouts, a desk and computer terminal set up in the corner, no doubt to collect the data of whoever sits in it.

“So … this is it,” Miles says judgmentally, unimpressed, “Looks like an electric chair, but somehow more revenge of the nerds-esque.”

Waylon smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. He won’t deny it bears a striking resemblance to Mount Massive’s brainwashing devices, ones he had the untimely pleasure of experiencing for himself.

“Yeah, everyone's a critic. Just get in.”

“Is it safe,” Miles asks, skeptical of the bad vibe he was getting just looking at the creepy thing.

“As safe as any of this experimental tech is gonna be.”

Miles supposes he can’t complain, given the circumstances. He doesn’t get any of these gadgets, but there was no one else he could turn to (aside from maybe Wernickle) who could give him the answers he seeks. Still, the reporter can’t help feeling a bit uneasy about entrusting himself to diagnostic tools on a budget.

The Walrider manifests itself as a disembodied head, whistling through it’s cheeks, seeking to reassure it’s host with a trill of sound. Miles smiles, close-lipped, stroking the odd contours of its face with a gentle hand.

“Alright. I mean we’ve come this far. What other choice do we have?”

With that, the anxious human hybrid takes a seat, the next test subject for this experimental apparatus going on torture device. Waylon straps him in, tying the buckles too tight to be comfortable, but Miles suspects it's punishment for trying to pry into the engineer's private life. His head too is bridled in place, another belt across the forehead to keep him securely in an upright position.

“This will monitor your heart rate,” Waylon says, electrode pads stuck to Miles’ temple, and then after a moment a disclaimer, “I am not a doctor, though.”

“You’ll be able to tell me more about the Walrider, right,” the brunette asks, nervously clenching his hands on the arm rest.

Waylon hesitates, less than confidently offering a, “Yeah,” in response.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Eighteen - The Friendzone

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on Ao3

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[excerpt]

She really didn’t know what to expect the first time she went back to Shigaraki’s place for a study session after their… discussion . They were trying to find a new normal — one that didn’t involve yelling and backsliding and sex, and two out of the two previous attempts at this had been completely unsuccessful. 

Needless to say she had some serious doubts that any of this was going to work. She wasn’t sure that it was possible to ever just be friends with Tomura Shigaraki. And she was really scared of what that meant. Best case scenario, it meant that they probably would never see each other again.

And that thought pained her way more than she’d ever admit.

So she was pretty surprised when she entered his apartment that day and found not the usual empty living room, but Shigaraki himself, spreading out his textbooks on the dining table. And Kurogiri too, assembling a delightful little tray of snacks and braising a rack of lamb in the attached, open-concept kitchen with no signs of leaving the room. 

“What’s going on here?”

Shigaraki answered simply, “Tutoring.”

“Down here?”

“I’ve got my own work to do today, so I thought a set-up like this made more sense,” he answered.

Wait… had Shigaraki actually set up their session in the living room, a public place, where they couldn’t get out of control?

“Did you have somewhere else in mind?” he asked.

Without even thinking, she answered, “I, uh, I guess I’m just surprised that you don’t want to do it in your room.”

Shigaraki smirked, “Do you want to go to my room?”

“N-No, this is fine!” she squeaked, eagerly taking her seat, “This is great, actually.”

He chuckled and tossed a stack of practice tests to her side of the table.

“Here are the study guides you missed. Review ‘em and then you should do a couple practice tests since you’re behind.”

She looked up at him with a scowl, fully ready to rebuke and rebuttal whatever snarky comment or patronizing smirk he’d throw her way for why she was behind. But there was no judgment or passive aggression waiting for her. He’d just stated it simply and opened his own laptop to work. It didn’t matter how long she waited either, no dig came. If he was holding onto any bitterness right now, it didn’t show.

Feeling her stare, Shigaraki glanced up, “What?”

“N-Nothing!” she dropped her head to dive into her work, praying to God that he didn’t see the red dusting her cheeks, “Just zoned out so… Yeah, nothing.”

His mouth twitched up. He absolutely did notice. But he chose not to say anything about it, instead pushing his laptop across the table towards her.

“Hey, what do you think of this paragraph?”

She looked back up at him, beyond surprised, “You want my help?”

“I want your opinion ,” he corrected pointedly.

She turned the laptop towards her, still a bit baffled, but looking over the document on screen regardless.

“I had the first two sentences switched originally,” he explained, “But I’m wondering if it actually makes a difference.”

She read through the section a few times before scrolling back to the intro paragraph.

“It’s for a history class?” she asked as she read over his thesis, “Not creative writing or anything?”

“Right.”

“I’d go with the way you had it,” she answered, turning the laptop back to him, “It connects more directly to your thesis statement.”

“Hm,” he made the switch and then reread his work, wondering aloud, “Do you think I should just cut the second sentence entirely?”

“No, no, it’s not fluff or anything. But when you open with that sentence, it definitely reads as more of a decorative lead-in rather than supportive evidence.”

Shigaraki nodded thoughtfully as Kurogiri approached with their snack tray.

“Can I get you any coffee or tea?” he asked her as he set it down on the table in front of her.

“Coffee sounds great. Thanks!” she said, her mouth watering at the assortment of stupidly expensive-looking snacks on display.

Kurogiri nodded politely and turned to his ward, “Tomura Shigaraki?”

He didn’t look up from his screen when he answered, “We got any barley tea?”

She paused, the leaning charcuterie tower of baked brie, duck salami, roasted fig, and truffle crackers she’d assembled stopping just short of her lips.

“Yes, I just picked some up yesterday,” Kurogiri answered, pointedly holding back the “by your request” that sat on the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll take that hot.”

“Right away.”

She couldn’t fight the smile that it all brought to her face. It made her charcuterie masterpiece taste all the better.

Continue on AO3

[eddie-sweetheart]

🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Eight 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

🏕 Chapters List

Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in an unexpected direction.

Chapter warnings • Swearing, attempted SA, (underage) drinking.

Chapter notes • I just wanted to say a big thank you to all of you who read, share, like, and comment this story: it wouldn't really happen without you and all your kind words lately have really given me the right motivation to keep going with this fic! I'm sorry if the updates are slow, and I hope you'll like this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for sticking around 🤍 I see you, and I'm grateful!

Chapter word count: 7.1 k

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Finally, sleep. 

It’s incredible how wearing warm clothes after spending time in the cold can work wonders for sleepless people - especially if mixed with an unexpected dose of adrenaline and excitement that is suddenly wearing down. 

Too caught up in your own (for once, positive) thoughts about the almost-kiss with Eddie and his invite to see him and his band at the Hideout this weekend, you don’t really register getting back to the cabin, changing into your spare dry pajama and sneaking into bed, among sheets that unexpectedly feel as soft as a cloud and as comfortable as a hug. 

That’s Eddie’s power, you guess, as you finally drift off into a calm, shapeless dream: being able to make you unwind, forget the bad things, and look forward to something good. It’s the way his hands feel so right when they wander on your skin, the inner beauty you were able to catch beyond his starry gaze; how he held you close, to protect you without imposing himself. Always the unexpected, snarky gentleman, always with a laugh to share and ironic jokes that mean everything but resignation. 

You can’t wait to see him again, tomorrow - which is probably today already, you realize with sleepy glee as you roll around in your bed, the sheets up to your neck like a cozy cocoon. You also realize that you'll have to ask Steve and Robin about sneaking out, but you’re so happy and free of worries that you’re sure they’ll say yes. The hoot of an owl seems to confirm that thought. Then, it’s all dark, and you’re fast asleep.  

— 🏕 —

Knock knock. 

You turn around, pushing your face against the warm pillow and grunting lightly. You pretend you didn't hear the sound - you really want to ignore it, the comfortable safety of sleep still within your reach, the empty, calming dream still at the tip of your fingers…

Knock knock. 

It’s louder this time, but you’re more determined than that. The bedsheets instantly rush to cover your head, their white cotton held tightly in place by your hands as you try once again to drift off. But now the light has reached you behind your eyelids, and it’s annoyingly luminous. So very hard to ignore. 

“Hellooooo, anyone home?” The creak of the wooden door and then Robin’s voice fills the room. You’re doomed once and for all, and if it wasn’t for your friendship she would be, too. 

“Jesus” you groan, staying under the covers with your eyes shut. “I was sleeping, Robin. What time is it?”

Robin takes a few steps closer to your bed, and you can smell something tempting and delicious: maple syrup?

“Good morning, sleepyhead” she says, lifting up the corner of the bedsheet and peeking underneath. “You really shouldn’t be this mad, because it’s almost midday. I covered for you, saying something about 'that time of the month' and God, it’s embarrassing how that works every single time, like clockwork. And, I brought you pancakes. So stop being a grumpy kid, get out of there and tell me what you and Munson were up to last night - and pleeeease let it be all kinds of naughty things”. 

You blush violently, and wonder if you should try to hide your embarrassment by rolling to the other side of the bed and pretending you’re still half asleep; however, you quickly decide that sooner or later you’d really want to tell Robin everything about last night. So, no time like the present - especially since your friend has already acknowledged the redness spreading on your face with a cheeky smirk.

“Before I explain” you say, climbing down the bed and heading towards the full plate Robin has left on the small desk, “how did you know?”

Robin knowingly scoffs. “You should thank your friend Steve” she says, “he’s way more observant than I thought, even if I bet it’s mostly unintentional. He kept rambling about how his clothes were soaking wet this morning because Eddie put his own dripping pajama on top of them and Eddie blushed - I mean, can you believe it? Hardcore, rebel, trademark metalhead Eddie Munson actually blushed - groaning something like ‘come on man, I said I’m sorry, can you leave it?’ and at that point I put two and two together just like that” she concludes, snapping her fingers in your face with a proud smile. “Because, of course, this morning my foot was welcomed by a pool of lake water right as I got up, since you left your own equally wet pajama on the floor”.

You give her an apologetic smile, your mouth full of food. “Sorry, Robs” you mumble, “I didn’t want to wake you up”.

Robin smiles, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Please, at least tell me it was worth it”.

“Well”, you carefully reply after gulping down a piece of pancake, “I think we almost kissed”.

Robin’s eyes grow wider and wider, her eyebrows shooting up and her mouth opening into a flabbergasted “O”.

“WHAT?” She exclaims, grabbing your arm and shaking you excitedly, her contagious smile making you giggle. “What do you mean you think? And what the hell is an almost kiss? Oh my god, I knew I was right, I knew it!”

You tell her all the details from last night’s occurrences, from the mysterious creature lurking on the banks of Lovers Lake to the trip on the canoe, your heartfelt speeches and the closeness between the two of you, and then the unexpected bath in the cold waters of the lake. As you tell her everything, you find yourself re-examining all the little gestures and moments you shared with Eddie, trying once again to understand if that kiss was actually going to happen. And even if a part of you almost doesn’t want to believe it, as it would be definitely too good to be true, by the time your story has reached the goodnight greetings outside Eddie’s cabin, you realize that yes - that kiss was 99% going to actually happen. And that realization takes your breath away - in the best possible meaning, of course. 

“Okay” Robin says, watching you finish your breakfast with a big smile, “so what now? I mean, we need to find a way to make you guys get to the bottom of it”.

As you move away from the desk and start getting dressed for the day, or whatever’s left of it, you smile at her use of “we”. And you remember the second most important detail from last night.

“There’s a concert this weekend” you say, throwing your white and green camp t-shirt on, “Eddie and his band are playing. It’ll be at the Hideout, which apparently is not far from here, at 10 pm. Eddie invited me… us, really. You and Steve, too. Oh, and we’ll need to take Steve’s car because the others are going with their friend Grant, who’s their bassist, and it’s going to be so cool and maybe, I don’t know, me and Eddie could…”

“Y/N” Robin interrupts you, “are you telling me that you want us to sneak out of camp, go to a biker bar and listen to a metal concert?”

You stop in your tracks, your poor rambling diversion completely ignored by Robin - as you should have expected, since that’s usually her own tactic. So, in order to convince her, you opt for your best attempt at puppy eyes. 

“Please, Robin, it would mean so so so much to me, pleaseee“ you try, going as far as to clasp your hands together in prayer.

“Begging, really? Are we at this point already?” Robin wonders with a shake of her head, but the smile on her face is everything but mocking. “But, I guess, if it makes you happy, I’ll do this illegal and frankly crazy thing for you. But just this once” she finally concedes, earning a hug and an excited grin.

“God, if he does anything to wipe that smile off of your face, I’ll break his neck” Robin mutters as you link your arm to hers and make your way outside.

— 🏕 —

“But why do we need to use my car?” 

Somehow, in all your grand plans to make Corroded Coffin’s concert the highlight of the summer, both you and Robin kind of took Steve's agreement for granted. However, after telling him the plan while accurately avoiding any reference to the romantic side of the endeavor, his blank reply makes you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have.

“Because you’re the only one of us who has a driving license” Robin bluntly replies, popping up from behind a tree with a handful of dry, fallen branches in her hands. You’re collecting wood to burn at the Great Bonfire, the official camp version of your very own clandestine experience.

“And, because you’re our dearest, favorite friend” you echo her, grabbing a few sticks from the ground and placing them in the basket hanging from your arm. “Come on, we really want you to come with us. It’ll be cool, and we’ll have fun”.

Steve looks at you with curiosity. “I’ve heard about the Hideout” he says, and the fact that he still hasn’t agreed is starting to make your stomach drop. “I mean, it’s surely a place, but I don’t know about the fun. Unless you like bars that are packed with old bikers with long beards and where they only play rock or metal music”.

“Come on, Harrington” Robin affectionately jokes, throwing one arm around his shoulders and squeezing, “let’s try something different for once. And don’t try to play the good boy card: you might have never sneaked out of camp before, but I know it's not the first time you’ve done something like this - and yes, this time it won’t be for a girl, but see it this way: you’ll do it for two girls. What do you think?”

Steve loudly groans, almost dropping his own basket in an attempt to shrug Robin off of him, but when he speaks again he says exactly what you’ve hoped for. “Alright, alright. But we’re coming back at midnight”.

You and Robin (not so) silently cheer behind his back. 

“What day is it going to be?” Steve asks, going back to inspect the ground for more wood. 

“Uhm” you hesitate, realizing that you actually don’t know. “I’ll have to ask Eddie. He didn’t really specify it”.

Steve pops one eyebrow up at you, but as he’s about to say something Robin shoves him with a wide grin. “Lovely” she says, making her way back to the cabins and dragging you both with her, “let’s ask him tonight then”.

And tonight it is, indeed - as you’ll all be together at the Great Bonfire. 

As soon as the sun lowers on the farther edge of the lake, its rays glittering red and warm on the flat surface of the water, campers and counselors alike start grouping up around the huge pile of wood and branches you’ve collected during the day. The Great Bonfire is one of the most beloved traditions at Camp Lovers Lake, turning dinner time into an unofficial roasting contest that ranges from classic sausages and marshmallows to melted cheese and burnt corn. 

Once you get there with Robin, the fire has just been started and Eddie, Steve, Gareth and Jeff are already sitting beside it, right in the middle of the crowd of chattering teenagers and excited little kids. 

“Good evening ladies” Jeff greets you, scooting along the tree trunk he’s sitting on to make some space for you to join them, “we saved you a seat and some food. You won’t believe how feral these little ones are - we’ve almost run out of corn already”. 

Both you and Robin sit down and thank him as you grab the handful of sticks he’s offering you, with all sorts of vegetables and sausages stuck on them. Right behind you, on the outer sitting circle around the fire, you can hear Eddie, Steve and Gareth arguing about something that sounds like the best meat-to-cheese ratio on skewers. 

“Hey, Eddie” you call out as you turn around, careful not to be too loud. 

Immediately stopping his argument in support of Gareth’s “infallible 2/3 solution”, Eddie turns to you with a big smile that reaches deep into his dark, beautiful eyes. 

“Hello, princess” he says, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward and closer to you, his ringed hands dangling between his legs. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all day”. 

You blush, and this time you’re not so ready to blame it on the heat of the fire - even though it’s due to something that highly resembles it. 

“That’s because I turned into a lumberjack today. See all that?” you joke, nodding towards the roaring flames, “we went out into the woods to make this beauty happen”. 

Eddie nods, amazed. “I see” he says, the fire glittering in the dark of his eyes, “that’s hot. Like, literally”. 

You look at him stunned for a second, before bursting out into a laugh that he joins immediately, making the others turn their heads with a curios frown - and a satisfied, knowing smirk from Robin. 

“So, what day is the concert this weekend?” You ask Eddie as you try to take a breath between one fit of giggling and the other. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ” Eddie sighs, drying one tear with the heel of his hand, “I didn’t say it, did I? It’s Saturday”

Your heart starts beating a little faster with anticipation. “So in two days. Cool, thanks” you say, turning back around towards the fire to stick your dinner among the flames. 

A small movement of the air behind you and the sudden increase in your body temperature, completely unrelated to the heat of the bonfire, let you know that Eddie’s leaning forward, closing the space between the two of you. 

“I can’t wait” he whispers in your ear, his breath (or his hair?) tickling the back of your neck. 

— 🏕 —

Friday somehow goes by, your impatience for the weekend to come and the tedious tasks of kitchen duty making it an endless day of prepping and serving meals and scrubbing pans until they’re squeaky clean under the hawk-like gaze of Mrs. Janet. By the end of dinner, your hands are swollen and dry, but you really don’t care - because, once you wake up the next morning just as the sun rises above the farthest shore of Lovers Lake, Saturday is finally here.

You don’t see Eddie for the whole morning, and for the whole day really. You only manage to catch a glimpse of him at lunch, as he comes with Gareth and Jeff to the Headquarters to grab a sandwich and a coke, say hi and disappear back into his cabin with the other two at his heels.

“They don’t have their guitars and stuff here, so they couldn’t practice for tonight” Steve explains to you and Robin as you go back to your meal, trying to hide a tiny little pang of disappointment at not being able to spend some time with Eddie before the concert. “So, he’s stressing them out by going over and over the tracklist and examining each song into detail that it’s way heavier than the metal music they’re going to play. Oh, and of course I’m banned from my own cabin for the rest of the day. Go figure if that’s fair” Steve complains, shaking his head as he pokes at his food.

“You can stay at ours if you want” Robin says, kicking him lightly under the wooden table with the tip of her shoe, “enjoy some girl time, paint your nails for the show, maybe. I bet you’d love that”.

Steve grunts, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Thanks, Buckley” he annoyedly replies, “but I really don’t think that’ll be necessary. He’ll have to let me in after dinner, if he wants me to get changed, get my keys and drive your lot to the Hideout. I mean, it’s my cabin, too”.

Robin lifts her palms up in surrender. “As you wish. Good luck with that”.

As always, of course, Robin was right. Not even the luckiest planet alignment in the universe could have helped Steve in his mighty task: Corroded Coffin’s dedication to their music and to the upcoming show is way stronger than Steve’s right to get back in his cabin, as it clearly turns out once he comes knocking at your door straight after lights out.

“Hello, big boy” Robin welcomes him, moving away from the entrance as she holds the door open to let him in. “Ready for your makeover?”

Steve doesn’t even reply, his mood darker than the night sky outside. He steps in silently, greeting you with an acknowledging nod and puffing with exasperation as he sits down on the desk’s chair, a bundle of clothes in his lap.  

“So they gave you your stuff, then” you observe before going back to impatiently rummaging into your travel bag, desperately looking for something that doesn’t scream off-duty camp counselor.

“They threw them at me” Steve specifies with a piqued tone, “from the window. I think it was Gareth, but they closed it so fast I couldn’t even see. At least they remembered the keys”.

“Come on, dingus, relax” Robin states, offering him a beer can still dewy with condensation. “Drink this. We stole a few from the stash”.

“Robin, he has to drive” you observe, causing Robin’s eyes to widen and snatch the can away from Steve’s grasp just as he’s reaching out for it.

“Seriously?” Steve protests, dropping his hands in his lap on top of the clothes.

Robin lifts her eyebrows, handing the can to you instead. “I’m sorry, Steve, but I’m not risking my life in a car accident, dying in the middle of the night in these creepy woods with wild beasts ready to feast on our corpses just because you decided to drink and drive”.  

“But you just offered it to me!” Steve hisses.

“Yeah, well, on second thought I think she needs it more than us” Robin replies, making Steve’s head turn towards you as she does the same.

“Yeah” he says, suddenly calmer and more collected, “I think you might be right”.

You haven’t even realized it, but you’ve scattered all of your clothes on Robin’s bed, which now looks like the aftermath of an explosion. Your foot is nervously tapping on the cabin’s floor, and you’re gnawing at your nails while sipping beer and staring with wide eyes at the mess of t-shirts and jeans, without a clue of what you’ll wear. Sure, from the outside you might actually look a little crazy. 

With a sigh, Robin comes to you and moves a few items of clothing away until she finds what she’s looking for. As you look at her with hope and surrender, she picks up a denim miniskirt and an oversized white shirt and throws them at you. You grab them with your free hand, holding on for dear life to the beer can in the other.

“With the black boots” she says, then she moves to her own suitcase and after a few seconds of poking around she takes out a slightly big black leather blazer and hands it over to you. “Add this and you’ll be okay. And take care of it, it’s my favorite”.

You look at her in surprise and, somehow, the outfit starts to make sense in your head. Then, Robin grabs a pair of dark green shorts for herself and pairs them with a cream-colored button-down with black leaves printed on it.

“Come on, Harrington” she exclaims, clapping her hands at him and receiving a confused look in return. “Ugh, turn around, close your eyes, do something for god’s sake”.

Steve groans as he gets up and turns towards the door, leaning his forehead against it as he closes his eyes, probably regretting his decision to agree to this mayhem while you and Robin get changed.

“Are you done?” He asks after a few seconds, and once you give him the go-ahead he turns back around again. His eyes widen as he looks at you both. 

“Oh” he says,  “you look good without the camp t-shirt. I mean, with something else than that”.

“Perv” Robin scoffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk reveals that she actually appreciates the comment. As you do, really, even if it’s someone else’s opinion you’re really caring about tonight.

Steve makes you both exit the cabin as it’s his turn to get changed. While you wait in the dark, Robin pokes at you with her elbow.

“He’s going to faint when he sees you” she states, making you blush a little. “You look hot, y/n. And it’s all because of my jacket”.

You smile at her. You don’t know if she’s right, but for now it’s all you need to hear. “Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

“You probably wouldn’t get laid” she says, and you both giggle in the night.

In the distance, you hear the rumble of an engine and as you turn around towards the camp’s entrance you notice two tiny luminous dots among the trees. They stop for a minute or two, then you hear a door shutting closed and then the dots disappear.

“That must’ve been their ride” Robin observes. You look at your watch and realize that it’s half past nine.

“Come on Steve, hurry up” you whisper while knocking softly on the cabin door. You’d yell at him, if only you didn’t have to avoid getting caught.

Thankfully, the door opens almost immediately, letting out a panting Steve - who looks exactly the same except for a blue polo.

“What?” He asks you and Robin, who are throwing confused and annoyed looks at him just as you start hurrying towards the parking lot.

“What the hell took you so long?” You ask, scanning the area to look for his car. “You’re basically wearing the same clothes”.

Steve stops in his tracks, looking at you with an offended glare. “I had to fix my hair” he replies, patting the pockets of his jeans. “And now that you’ve rushed me out, I can’t find my keys”.

“Maybe you’ve left them in the cabin” Robin groans, “go check”.

Steve rushes back, muttering something under his breath. Five minutes pass, and he still hasn’t come back. You look at your watch: it’s 9:45 pm.

“You know, it won’t be that bad if we get a little late” Robin tentatively tells you, easily guessing your thoughts. “Guys love to be kept waiting. Or so I’ve heard”.

You sigh, getting closer to Steve’s car and checking yourself in the dark reflection of its windows. Of course, your make-up had to come out decently on the day you’re going to miss Eddie’s concert.

“Got them” Steve whispers loudly as he finally appears back from the woods, his car keys jingling in his hands. “They were under the bed. Let’s go”.

Your heart beats faster as you get in the passenger’s seat, while Steve starts the engine and Robin almost literally throws herself on the backseat. Steve keeps the headlights off and drives as slow as possible until he’s out of the parking lot; then, once you finally hit the road and the Camp Lovers Lake sign gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, Robin leans forward between the two of you in the front to turn the radio on and the volume up to a Scorpions song. Adrenaline and excitement, as well as the realization of what you’re doing, finally hit you all and make you sing along to “Rock You Like A Hurricane” at the top of your lungs.

— 🏕 —

As fast as Steves dares to drive, however, you finally reach the Hideout at 10:20 pm. 

Turns out that looking for a place you’ve never been to in the dark of the night isn’t that easy, even if it should be right at the side of the road. Thankfully, after a few wrong turns and a lot of bickering, Steve’s BMW slows down into the large parking lot of a battered pub, whose neon sign confirms indeed that, finally, it’s the Hideout you’ve been looking for.

Steve manages to park the car between a truck and two motorcycles, not without some difficulty as the place is packed with all kinds of vehicles and people walking around, making it way different from the “crowd of five drunks” Eddie told you about.

The bar itself seems quite spacious - sure, it’s not huge, but judging from the number of bikers and customers going in and out, it looks like it could hold quite a decent crowd. 

You make your way past some bearded men with distressed denim vests and giant beers in their hands, and for a moment you feel like a fool. They must be wondering what three late teens who are clearly underage are doing in a place like this, one wearing a polo and the others looking like lost sheep; they’re probably mocking you, and maybe they’ll try to pick a fight or something, and you’re not really sure that Steve would be able to face them all… but as you brush past them, they don’t even seem to notice you. Well, one of them actually does, at some point, but his reaction is nothing but a small smile and a silent cheer as he lifts his beer at you.

It feels surreal to you, but you smile back - and then, Steve pushes the door open and suddenly it’s all loud music, and smoke, and lights. And people, lots of people.

“I thought he said it was small” Robin yells in your ear, trying to overcome her shock and the loud rock’n’roll jamming that’s happening on a small stage at your left, far back into the room.

A waitress that looks 40 but with the body and the outfit of a teenager walks fast beside you, pushing a few bikers away as the six drinks on her tray dangerously shake and tilt, but never fall.

“I thought so, too” you yell back, looking around and trying to make sense of your surroundings - and hopefully, find Eddie and the rest of your friends.

To your right, a long wooden counter separates three busy bartenders from a crowd of people standing against it - both men and women, mostly wearing denim, leather and boots while laughing and chatting loudly. Not far from them, towards the center of the room, there are many small, round tables scattered all over, with customers drinking and smoking and occasionally eating large hamburgers and platters of brownish fries. Some of them are nibbling handfuls of peanuts, whose shells are littering the floor and being reduced to dust as boots crash and walk on them.

Just beyond that set of tables, there’s another group of people standing - but these ones are dancing to the music, half-empty glasses spilling all kinds of drinks as they move and shake their heads to the fast rhythm of some rock song, which you don’t know.

Thankfully, in spite of your lateness, as soon as your eyes land back on the stage to identify the source of the music, you notice that the band playing is definitely not Corroded Coffin. You start wondering how long a set lasts, thinking that maybe you’ve completely missed Eddie’s performance, but your attention is grabbed by a tap on your shoulder before you can give yourself an answer.

“Look” Steve mouths, pointing to a poster stuck on a wall beside the entrance and displaying some colorful words on a black and white picture of a man playing the guitar. On top of the poster, you read the words Live Music Night and below the guitarist there’s a timetable with a list of bands and what seems to be the time they’re going to play; someone, however, must have corrected the setlist, as a double-headed arrow pointing both at the 10 pm and 11 pm slots seems to suggest that Corroded Coffin and The Red Strings have switched places.

You take a deep breath in relief, knowing you still have some time before Eddie’s going to play.

“Let’s go find them” you shout at Steve and Robin, but she’s already done that.

“They’re right there” she exclaims, nodding towards a table at the opposite side of the room. You follow her gaze and your heart skips a beat as soon as you catch a glimpse of him.

If you thought that seeing Eddie at the secret bonfire meant seeing him at his best and in his element, you now realize that you were completely wrong. The way his slightly crooked smile is shining, putting his dimples on full display, and the way his eyes are glittering even this far away from you, right as he sips his beer and laughs at something Jeff has said, literally takes your breath away. And it’s not just how completely comfortable and confident he seems in this place - he looks incredibly hot, as well. His wild hair and messy fringe are partly covered by a black bandana with skulls printed on it, tied on top of his head and making his curls stick out a little more than usual; he’s wearing his usual black leather jacket, but instead of the denim vest you’ve already seen on him he’s styled it with a black and red checkered shirt left open underneath it. Under that, you spot a black t-shirt with a white, spiky font spelling out “Corroded Coffin”. And, to top it all off, a beautiful dark red electric guitar is hanging across his back, making him look like the star he is.

You see Eddie put down his glass as he nods absentmindedly at the conversation Jeff, Gareth and another guy you’ve never seen before are having; then, he scans the room with his eyebrows slightly furrowed - and his eyes finally land on yours.

His whole face lights up and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen blooms on his lips as he lifts an arm and starts waving a hand to make you see him. You smile back and you could swear you’re floating on cloud nine as you make your way towards his table, gently pushing people away as you move through the crowd, Robin and Steve right behind you.

Eddie’s eyes never leave yours, but as you’re about to make it past a particularly tight-knit group of customers the energy in the room suddenly shifts. All it takes for your heart to break is a few seconds: the perfect slot of time for a young, blonde woman to reach them before you do, drop a couple of beers on the table, sit down right on Eddie’s lap and place a kiss on his blushing cheek as she swings an arm around his shoulders.

The smile freezes on your lips and you almost stop in your tracks, but as Robin unexpectedly trips behind you she pushes you forward, making you cover whatever space is left between you and your friends with a few tumbling steps.

“Hey, guys!” Jeff exclaims, standing up from his seat to welcome you. “You’ve made it! See, Eddie? I told you so”. 

Eddie looks up at you, tempting another smile as he says an unusually shy “Hi”. You manage to smile back and utter a “Hi” yourself, your mind going on autopilot as you’re trying to process what’s going on.

“Oh, so these are your friends” the girl says with a grin before tightening her grip on Eddie’s shoulders and shaking him a little bit. “Thank god you guys switched place with The Red Strings, uh? Hi, I’m Barbara”.

You don’t know if the weird note in her voice is irony, but you’re too caught up in realizing how beautiful she looks to understand it. You’re still staring at her incredibly tight and low-cut leather dress and fishnet tights when Robin addresses her, trying to make your silence less awkward.

“I’m Robin, that’s Steve and she’s y/n” she says, holding out her hand and shaking Barbara’s. “Eddie’s surely mentioned her- I mean, us?”

“Oh, well” Barbara says, looking down at Eddie and then back at you. “Actually no, not really, but it’s nice to meet you! Are you ready for the show?”

For the next fifteen minutes, you completely ignore Eddie, even if he tries to speak to you across the table. You pretend you don’t hear his vague questions and his attempts at starting a conversation, and instead you focus on Grant, the fourth member of the band that you’re meeting for the first time, and on drinking shot after shot - leaving Robin to deal with an increasingly confused and worried Eddie.

After a while, the band on stage stops playing and a wave of applause and loud cheers accompanies them as they climb down the wooden platform, their songs now replaced by a rock playlist echoing from some speakers on the ceiling. The short break before the next live performance doesn’t stop people from dancing and singing, though.

After you gulp down another glass of whatever’s liquor the waitress is bringing to the table (“bottomless drinks are one of the few perks of unpaid shows” Grant jokes), you feel Robin’s hand squeeze your arm.

“Hey” she says, looking at you with a worried smile, “Come dance with me?”

“Sure” you nod, not really understanding why she’s suddenly so eager to hit the dance floor. Steve looks up at you, not interrupting his conversation with Jeff and Gareth, and keeps staring as you both stand up and head towards the group of people moving to the first notes of another rock song - one that you’ve heard before, but whose title you can’t really recall.

“Y/n” Robin asks you once you’re hidden among the crowd, “are you okay?”

You scoff, and you remember that it’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard. You like the song, and you start moving to its rhythm.

“I mean, maybe she’s just a friend” Robin tries, following your movements as best as she can and unexpectedly making you smile. A smile that soon turns sour as you see Steve talking to her back at the table, and wondering why he’s making friends with the enemy.

“Yeah” you say, “because I sit on your lap and smooch you all the time, right? Is that what friends do?”

Robin shrugs. “I don’t see why he would have asked you to come, then. If he knew she’d be here”.

“Maybe he didn’t” you reply, barely noticing a particularly drunk guy almost crashing into you. “Or maybe he knew, and since he doesn’t really feel what we thought he felt, it wasn’t a problem. After all, who am I to him? He didn’t even tell her we were coming”.

Robin grabs you by your shoulders, keeping you still in place. “Listen, we might not know who she is, but I know for sure that he likes you. Don’t even try to argue with me about that. I also know that right now you’re upset and all, but we came here to have fun: so why don’t we try to actually have some and maybe find out more about her later? We might even ask her, to clear things up once and for all. But let’s dance a bit first, yeah? To take the edge off”.

You don’t know if that makes total sense to you, but for now you agree. You’ll trust Robin to make any decision tonight. You’ll just follow her lead. And it actually feels nice, dancing in the crowd to the guitar riffs of the song, swaying your hips and lifting your arms up as you sing along, the alcohol in your system making everything seem ethereal and not really that big of a problem. Even the table at the edge of the room feels miles away - unlike Eddie’s eyes, though, which are glued on you, making you almost feel his gaze as you move and dance under the neon lights of the Hideout.

You twirl, but the music changes and the crowd moves, and in the blink of an eye you lose sight of Robin. As you turn around to look for her, you end up against something - someone, actually, and as you look up you realize that it’s the drunk guy that almost crashed into you earlier. 

“Hey” he exclaims, sneaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him, “What’s a beautiful young lady like you doing here at this hour?” 

You try to push him away, looking around for Robin, but he’s strong, and you can smell the alcohol on him as he moves his face closer to yours. 

“Come on, don’t be so uptight” he whispers in your ear, and with a cold shiver of dread you realize that while he’s keeping you against him with one hand, the other is slithering down your back and towards the edge of your skirt.

It never reaches it, however, because someone grabs the guy from the collar of his shirt and yanks him away from you. 

“Don’t fucking touch her, man” Eddie almost growls, positioning himself between you and the guy, his arm protectively and gently moving you behind him.

“Woah, calm down” the guy replies, staggering.  “We were just having some fun. Right, gorgeous?”

You instinctively grab Eddie’s arm, holding on to it as he tenses up.

“I don’t think so” Eddie says, slowly, “Now go and don’t ever come close to her again, you understand?”

“Or what?” The guy says, frowning as he crackles his knuckles, making you shiver.

You see Eddie’s fists tighten, but before things escalate Steve and the others appear almost out of thin air.

“Come on, dude” Steve says, taking a step closer to the guy, followed by the others. “Go have another drink and sleep it off, yeah? It’s not worth it, there’s five of us”.

The guy stares at him and then he starts walking backward. “Keep your fucking girlfriend on a leash next time” he says, spitting at Eddie’s feet before disappearing into the crowd.

Eddie doesn’t give him a second glance, as he’s too busy turning towards you and grabbing your face with his hands.

“You okay, y/n? Did that asshole hurt you?” He asks, his dark brown eyes scanning your face with worry, and for a second you forget all about Barbara.

“I’m fine” you reply, “really”.

Eddie sighs in relief. “Good. That’s good” he says, the tips of his fingers absentmindedly grazing your cheek.

“You saved the day, Prince Charming” Barbara exclaims, bringing you back down to reality. Hard. “Now hurry and go get ready backstage, before they cancel your gig. Hush hush”.

Eddie gives you one last smile before dropping his hands away from you, adjusting the strap of his guitar and walking away with Jeff, Gareth and Grant right behind him.

“Let’s go sit, shall we?” Barbara says, grabbing you under your arm and leading you away from the crowd. You look at Robin, and she shrugs as you all get back to the table.

There isn’t any music now, only the loud chatter of the bikers and bar customers occasionally interrupted by high-pitched feedback sounds as a few staff members are fixing the microphones and adjusting the speakers on stage.

“So, is this the first time you’re seeing them live?” Barbara asks you as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Yeah, it is” you tentatively reply, drumming your fingers on the table.

Barbara smirks. “Oh, you’ll love them. I’m always here when they play, and their shows are always amazing - especially the backstage celebrations, if you know what I mean” she says, winking. “And Eddie… he’s special, that one. If you’ll ever get to know him like I do, you’ll see that music is not his only talent. The boy surely has many, I promise you that”. She concludes with a sigh and a giggle.

If you weren’t sure what to make of her until now, now you do. You know girls code too well not to get what she means, and by the stunned look on Robin’s face you know she gets it, too. 

A presenter walks on stage, but you can’t see him that well, since tears blur your sight and threaten to fall down your cheeks. He talks into the microphone, speaking a few words to introduce the next band, a small metal group from Hawkins that’s played at the Hideout before, and whose name makes cheers erupt from the crowd.

“Steve” Robin suddenly says as Corroded Coffin walk on stage, “I don’t think I feel very well - must be something I ate at dinner”.

You all turn towards her to see her grimace and hold her stomach with both hands.

“Jesus, Robin, are you sure?” Steve asks, his eyebrows up in surprise.

Robin nods eagerly, her eyes on yours. You understand and giver her a small, almost unintelligible nod.

“Yeah, it hurts sooooo bad” she complains, closing her eyes and breathing deep.

Barbara rushes to grab her bag, opening it and poking around inside it. “Maybe I have a pill or something, would you…” 

“Oh no” Robin shakes her head, interrupting her. “I think it’s better if we go… Steve, can you drive us back?”

Steve looks back and forth between you and Robin, uncertain. You hear a few tuning riffs coming from the stage, but you don’t look.

“Yeah, let’s take her back to camp” you quickly say, sniffing briefly.

“But the show…” Steve observes, softly staring at you.

You shrug, getting up just as Eddie introduces himself and the band to the crowd. “It’s fine, we’ll come to the next one. Can you tell them it was an emergency?” You ask Barbara, who’s worriedly looking at a suffering Robin. 

“Yes, sure” she replies, “They’ll be so bummed. I mean, Eddie-“

“Cool, thank you so much” Robin says, jumping to her feet and grabbing you with one hand while holding her belly with the other. “It was nice meeting you. See you next time!”.

With a fairly confused Steve following you, you walk across the room to head outside and go back to the fresh air of the night, the door closing behind you just as the first few notes of Corroded Coffin’s opening song start playing.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

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[writingpei]

wicked games (l.m) - chapter seven

previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 2.1k words tw: parental abuse, daddy and mommy issues, toxic household

action and reaction

by the time minho returned home, the stars were already dripping across the sky covered in the darkness of the early evening. he carried several bags full of goods that he received from girls of all ages, desperate for any grain of time he was willing to spare them.

it was no secret to anyone that minho was a sucker for attention - especially coming from pretty girls - however, even though he was washed up with it for the last few hours, the confessions and smiles weren't enough to get him out of the foul mood that dominated his mind.

so when he pulls up in front of the vast house and sees the black car in the driveway that contrasts itself in his field of vision so aggressively, he can only laugh out loud in a humorless laugh, theorizing in his mind how bad the remaining of his night was going to be.

when he stepped into the house, his primary destination was climbing the endless stairs to the top floor on his way to his younger brother minhyuck's room. minhyuck didn't hide his surprise when he saw minho entering his bedroom, even more so when he threw all of the bags on the youngest's bed.

"what... what are you doing?"

"gifts for my favorite little brother!" minho exclaims in feigned enthusiasm, and minhyuck just frowns wildly.

"i'm your only little brother..."

"you have enough chocolate to keep and give to your grandkids and love letters to read and distract yourself with when you feel like crying in the middle of the night" he says, giving a thumbs up in minhyuck's direction as if that will transform what he had just said into something somewhat acceptable. “that’s it, bye.”

"oh, minho" minhyuck called him when he was about to leave the room. "mom says we're having a family dinner tonight and you can't bail it."

"guess i will have to make an appearance then" he sighed walking up to his own room, not bothering to turn on the lights and simply drowning himself in his bed, sighing deeply in that moment of such intense silence that even a buzzing arose in his ears, clouding his thoughts.

minho was fully aware of his ability to express exaggeration, it was already was a part of his daily script when it came to complaining about things, however, he did not make use of this attribute when saying that there were days he preferred to die than to share the dining table with his family for at least an hour of your precious day in agonized silence and hostility.

given that, when the family housekeeper knocks shyly on his bedroom door and blurts out, "mister lee, dinner is already served in the dining room," he makes no move to get up and head out toward his own personal brand of hell. it felt as if something of a humongous weight had made itself comfortable on his back and he didn't have even 1 percent of the strength needed to face it and get to his feet, simply losing control of his body completely.

he closed his eyes tightly, expecting the whole world to fall apart at that moment. he couldn't imagine what it was he'd done wrong this time to condemn himself to a family dinner, but he wasn't excited to go down and find out.

not wanting to hide under his covers like he did when he was a kid, he sucked it all up and got up, walking like a zombie down the path he'd known all that well. he was late, and that would only deduct points from his case. minhyuck and his parents were already sitting around the table, patiently waiting for him. on the plates, several different foods colored the dark wood, practically black, of the dining table.

he expected some snarky comment about his manners and his abominable habit of keeping others waiting, but was met only with silence, which just sent a chill running free down his spine.

dinner began in dead silence, creaking with just the sound of silverware hitting the bottom of china plates, but it was obvious that a tangible tension hung in the air. he had had no appetite since morning, so he just messed up and unscrambled the carrot and green bean cubes from one side to the other side, not daring to look up.

his mother was the granddaughter of an important man within the country's education department, and due to her social status, she was condemned to a life tainted by an arranged marriage and children she never planned to have. he had never seen his mother genuinely smile in his entire life. he started making jokes when he was little with the aim of making her laugh, but it never happened. minho couldn't understand why she didn't smile, even though he was trying his best every day. his confusion mingled with anger, realizing that his efforts to make her happy made no difference to her, and so it wasn't long before the humor morphed into sarcasm, and their interactions with each other became unbearable.

he could confidently say that he loved minhyuck a lot, but he wasn't blind enough not to notice that the boy was very sensitive and weak. as much as he had the insatiable desire to one day walk out the huge front door of the house and never return, he had been on target of belligerence for so long that he couldn't live with the idea that everything he had gone through during all his upbringing, being the eldest son, would be immediately transferred to his brother the second he vanished. that was the only thing that brought him back to reality in those moments of desperation.

"two questions" and then there was his father.

the silence is brutally broken when a fork is aggressively thrown against the table and flying to the ground, making minhyuck flinch in fright.

"two questions" and then there was his father, pinching the bridge of his long nose.

minho was already used to the man's sudden and ruthless mood swings, but his familiarity with his overwhelming presence didn't stop him from widening his eyes at the horrible noise, both of the fork hitting the table and his father's voice. it was obvious, how hadn't he realized before? of course, this would be all about his performance on the test, he should have expected this to happen since he first laid eyes on the rankings that morning.

"tough, isn't it?" he replied, smirking bitterly. “i almost cried when i saw it.”

he noticed his mother giving him a calculated look. she was never a fan of his little sarcastic comebacks. his father, however, wasn't having any of it; the dense energy emanating from the man across the table hit minho's skin with considerable thickness.

"you know very well how i feel about second place, minho. second place is more humiliating-"

"second place is more humiliating than last place, i know it very well" he interrupted as if he would succumb if he let him finish the sentence. 

"then why the fuck did you play such a ridiculous role, minho?!" he raised his voice, almost screaming. his attention shifted completely toward his son, eyeing him like a hawk.

minho was taken aback but didn't let it show, he just gulped and rebuilt his wall again brick by brick in a matter of seconds. he puts his hands in his lap, under the table, where he proceeds to clench them into fists as tightly as he can, trying to make his mind focus more on the sharp pain his fingernails caused in his palm than on the vicious words that dripped through his mouth like the venom of a serpent.

"sometimes you have difficulty in certain subjects, that's normal" he shrugged, pretending that the situation was still under control.

"cut the bullshit, you've been in more math competitions than you can remember and you've won almost each one by acing every piece of subject thrown in your face" his father snapped. he then leans his elbows on the table and rubs one hand over the other, tongue running over his teeth without taking his eyes that burn with anger from minho. "from time to time i wonder if you think i'm fucking dumb. if you keep humiliating me like this, i don't know what i'm going to do with you."

minho just takes a deep breath and his eyes slide down to meet his. the pride that was already built into his body prevented him from backing down. he thought that if he tried hard enough, he would be a force strong enough to hit his head-on. in his deepest sleep, in the middle of dreamland, he lived scenarios manipulated by his brain's desires in which his father lost his composure when he looked him back in the eyes, defying him. every so often, he also dreamed that he was apologizing to him after everything he made him go through. those were his most terrifying nightmares.

"you two, out." minhyuck wasted no time jumping out of his chair and disappearing upstairs.

"honey…" her mother began, but it would obviously be pointless.

"i said out!" and this time, she started to get up to leave. "i'm going to talk some sense into that ungrateful imbecile's head. if asking nicely isn't enough, maybe I can get it in other ways."

no matter how much more strength minho put into the grip in his hands, the more he felt his own nails tearing into his skin, he had been trapped inside that moment, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from his father's, as if they were locked together in a sick and sadistic connection.

his father got up and walked slowly across the table until he stopped directly beside the chair where he was still sitting. he noticed him take a shuddering breath, trying to maintain the calm that minho would know he would lose once he started talking again.

"you can't even imagine how much i bet on you, how wonderful and rich your life will be in the future for the things that i, that i did for an ingrate person like you!" he yelled as he pointed at himself to emphasize what came out of his mouth. "then i think you better not throw my effort on the gutter, minho, i'm going to make you regret it..."

"i already told you i didn't fucking mean to get it wrong!" minho managed to blurt out, hate consuming him from the inside out. his words just made his dad turn red with rage, and the sound of his fist slamming into the table in a loath-fuelled impulsive act made minho stay alert. he was approaching him dangerously. "i swear to god if you lay your hands on me, you'll be sorry. i’m not a kid anymore" he warned.

for a second, two, the silence between the two men was absolute. that is, until his dad let out a long laugh that slid down his throat, with fake sour humor. "i can guarantee you i'll do a lot more than just lay my hands on you," and minho tried not to shudder in his chair. he hated feeling weak, especially in the presence of the heinous man in front of him. "if i don't see your name in first place on the next test, minho, you're going to be in trouble. i think you know me well enough by now not to test my patience on this sort of thing."

the last warning was given in tremendous cautiousness. they looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds, his eyes that minho realized were so similar to his own that they made him hate them in himself, preventing him from looking at them every time he faced a mirror. after the non-verbal confrontation marked by looks of aggressive and deteriorating intensity, his father just soothed the part of his hand that had hit the table and turned his back on him, leaving him completely alone in the dining room. 

the table was still covered with unfinished plates, their food was still untouched, the decor was still disgustingly expensive, and the kitchen door was closed, where the cooks and other servants hid every time her father was home, running away from any contact with man. minho felt dirty and alone, standing in the middle of that huge room that looked like a scene from the apocalypse, in those places where people seem to have abandoned their lives in the middle of a normal day. he almost pinched himself to see if he wasn't imagining what had just happened, but he wasn't a child anymore, and he knew better than anyone that this was the only reality he'd had all his life, and sometimes he faithfully believed that it was the only one that apparently deserved it, since it was never different, not even once.

stay tuned for chapter 8! new chapters every sunday ☆

taglist: @liphglos (starting a taglist, if you want to be a part of it, send me an ask <3)

[gg-university-if]

Okay I have loadsss to say!!!

Apologies in advance! It's a long rant. I'm excited.

Spoilers below!

All my ROs are Male so hence the pronouns my MC is a MLM

1. Beck is the most adorable fucking thing in the history of everything. I love him. Omggggggggggggggggg just how could your brain even come up with such a bean of a dude. He seems so stressed but so sweet. I adored his interaction with Jason it was so funny to read. And how much he actually misses his friend. Loved that I can have a crush on him because come on.

On that note tho:

Can I throw Ethan off a bridge???? Like Jesus dude cut it out. I see I'm gonna have issue with him on a beck route because dude doesn't know when to take a step back and not come off as a di....dingleberry!

2. The farewell with the fam was bittersweet as my MC has very complicated feeling towards the parents but Jace is just the best brother ever. Makes me sad I'm an only child.

3. Sids cute. ♥️ just so cute. Friendly and funny. Quite charming.

4. R is such a little lovebug. I love how we cldnt say no to him. And I had to stand up for him because no one gets to push my roommate around especially if they are really hot.

On that note again: ugh I want to punch Hader so badly... but I also want to romance him.. but I also wanted to throw a can at his head..empty can.. calm down.. 🙄 he can be glad he's hot and that I'm Slightly masochistic when doing IFs.. I also go for the your an asshole but i like you routes.. unfortunately 🥲

5. F seems like he is soooo fun! Very charismatic and DRAMATIC lol

6. Question. You said we would encounter EVERY (yes i saw that) RO.... did I see correctly and is there a secret RO.. and does that mean they are in the chapter? If it's Ethan end me now. It's gonna be an enemy to lovers route cuz he is aloooot.

Hmm what else..

I love the little things. Like choosing our aesthetics. Clothes, dorm room set up. It's a nice touch in customization. You love us awww 😭

Was wondering about customization and if MC is gonna have the option to have any piercings or tattoos their family know nothing about.

Oh I did see a bit of a typo I suppose. After Haders scene and meeting F. After you choose your food in the cafeteria. Instead of saying as you take a "bite out of your chicken katsu curry" it says take a "sip" but that's all I noticed. Also if you ever need beta readers.... 👀👀👀👀

Overall I loved the entire update. I can't wait to interact more with everyone. And as I'm on a music scholarship Hader is gonna have to get used to my MC talking back 🙄 it's great. Your writing is great. This is so fun to read and reading it brought a smile to my face. Thank you for working so hard on it. ♥️

Spoilers under the cut, let's break this down!

I love, love, love all the detail!

So I'll try and answer or have a comment for each bit since you made so much effort to give me feedback when you didn't need to.

Fun fact: Sid and the male form of one of the ROs are actually holdovers from an ill-starred short-lived mlm fic I wrote before GGGLU ever existed.

1. I'm so glad you liked Beck! I was worried that people would get irritated with him or end up not liking his personality but I thought the way I wrote him was most authentic to the story I wanted to tell for his route. He's so exhausted but so willing to help and isn't that just the cutest thing ever?

Ethan is Ethan, you'll definitely get your chance to be snarky and put down some fighting words with Ethan in the future. Infact at no point do you have to come to like him for Beck's Route but I can atleast say that there is a reason that he is Beck's University BFF and to a certain extent in my mind it makes his character a lot more...understandable if not your cup of tea.

2. (Obviously) there's the death of the author and I don't get to dictate how others interpret my writing but I'm so glad that you saw it the same way that I saw that scene when I was writing it because to a certain extent parting is a bittersweet moment for the MC regardless of how they feel about Jace and their parents.

3. Sid is adorable, just a ball of pop punk flavored sunshine. Was definitely one of my favorite characters to write in this part of the chapter and as a music scholarship MC you might be seeing more of them...but I'll shut my mouth for now.

4. Yeah I had debated allowing the MC to deny R and totally skip the cafeteria scene but I thought it was more fun if it was a compulsory event and the idea that R already has so much sway over the MC is sorta funny to me.

Hader is a bag of emotions and definitely stormy ones at that, I can't promise he'll ever be B or R levels of adorable but I can say that Riley wasn't lying when he said Hader isn't always like that and that usually he's a little more hot than scary and broody than angry.

The intended effect for my Hader-mancers was that they would want to punch and kiss him at the same time and seeing as they were already simping I had to ramp up the punching bit.

5. Fred is also good fun to write, I keep on saying this but also one of my favorites to write this time round and also one of the hardest for me. I'm not naturally a very dramatic or big personality so it's hard to write someone who is naturally charming and affable, I'm happy it was able to work somewhat as intended.

6. Hehehe the secret RO is in the demo currently and seeing as they're already implemented it's not a particularly big deal for me to reveal them BUT seeing as you guessed wrong I guess I'll be keeping it a secret for a little while longer.

A little hint: part of the reason H is so angry has to do with our beloved secret RO.

7. Customization is going to come as necessary to the story, things like tattoos and piercings are planned to come in part 2 of chapter one.

At some point you'll have a chance to get bigger tattoos but so early in the story the only tattoos you can have hidden from your parents will be pretty small.

8. I do need beta readers 😭😭😭 but I don't know how to get in contact with anyone through the proper routes and I'm famously awful with Discord amongst my friends.

If I ever figure out how to set up a Discord or interact with readers outside of Tumblr itself through the proper routes of communication then you will definitely be at the top of the list!!!

Finally we're at the end, thank you for giving me such a comprehensive breakdown of your experience. I really couldn't and wouldn't be able to write if it wasn't for your encouragement and excitement to push me forward to write.

I'm glad my writing style is atleast palatable and I'm more than ecstatic that it was able to provide a momentary amount of joy when reading.

Thank you for reading!

[xxrainshadowsxx]

Interpersonal Chapter 2

Cherry chapstick, subtle flirting, and Onceler's just a bit of an asshole who gets put in his place.

As you approach the building the next morning, you can't help but feel an enormous sense of trepidation. You have no idea what kind of mood he'll be in, or if he'll even want to see you after the craziness of yesterday. But you suppose there's no point in not facing the music. You need the job and for some unfathomable reason you still can't figure out, you made a promise to yourself; you want to help him as much as you're able to.

You quickly make your way to Mr. Onceler's office, and your only saving grace is that you're not hearing any screaming yet. You hesitate, then give a gentle knock. Better to be polite than to barge in, even though you're well aware he wouldn't extend you the same courtesy.

An impatient "Come in," answers you. It's hardly a promising opening, but you'll take what you can get. You pull the door open and slip inside the room.

He's frowning and tapping his fingers on his desk, but when he sees you his face noticeably brightens. "Oh, it's you!" he trills.

His reaction is nothing like you were expecting, though it lifts your spirits exponentially. You can't say why, but seeing him genuinely smile makes you feel fuzzy and warm inside. But instead of focusing on feelings that were entirely too confusing and out of place, you simply laugh. "Who else did you think I'd be?"

"My lawyers," he pouts, and you can't help but notice that he's kind of cute when he does so, before you force yourself to squash the thought down and refuse to acknowledge it further. "I sent them the NDA yesterday, and every time I send them a legal document they bombard me with things they want to change, even if it's already exactly how I want it."

"Well then, let's not talk about them if they're going to put you in a bad mood," you suggest. "Do you have anything for me before I head into my office for the morning?"

"I actually do. I meant to bring it up last night, but we got distracted." Really? That's what he was going to call his outburst? You nearly comment but just manage to bite back the snarky remark you had ready on the tip of your tongue and instead focus on what he's saying. "You need a thneed for your job. It's policy."

"It's actually not in the company policy, sir." This time you can't stop the comment from flying out of your mouth. "I triple-checked before I applied, because I knew I wouldn't be able to afford one for a while."

He sighed. "If there was one person I'd believe when they say they actually read the company policy, it would be you." You can't decide if he sounds amused or exasperated. Maybe somewhere in the middle? "But no, it's not required for every employee to have a thneed. However, your position will. You'll be accompanying me to company events, and need to represent us while there."

"I can get one, but it might have to wait a paycheck or two," you state bluntly. "I have to make paying rent my priority."

"Work isn't a priority?" he asks innocently enough, but you do see a flash of a challenge behind his eyes. Praying to whatever God might be listening that the challenge is a playful one, you press on.

"It is, but I need a place to live and food to eat in order to do my job. Wouldn't you agree sir?"

Let's see how he responds to that. Giving the challenge back to him was sure to shake things up a bit.

Unfortunately, he figures out exactly what you were doing. "You know I can't say it's not good to have food or shelter," he says with a wry smile before folding his hands together and resting his chin on them, elbows on the table. His deep blue eyes scan you for a moment. "You know, if I asked something of any of my other employees, they would bend over backwards to make it happen."

"I don't think I'm like most of your other employees, sir," you say with a shrug. 

"Believe me, I've noticed," he says with a short, bark-like laugh. "And I haven't figured out whether or not I like that about you."

"Maybe you can learn to like it," you suggest. That's not flirting, right? Definitely not. At least, you convince yourself it's not because you're enjoying the back-and-forth banter.

He pauses for a moment before responding and-wait, did his eyes just flicker up and down your body? There was absolutely no chance that had just happened, was there? Your own eyes had to have been playing a trick on you. He wouldn't do that. Nothing was ever going to go beyond friendly professionalism between the two of you.

So why in the ever-loving hell are you feeling disappointed? Something was clearly wrong with you today and you had to get it under control, pronto. 

"We'll see," he says softly, finally responding to the comment you'd nearly forgotten about. There's something tense in the air now, something that hadn't existed before. You could kick yourself. You had just been trying to develop a friendship with the man, not pretend like you were interested in him, because you most certainly weren't.

There's a pounding on the door, causing you to jump and Mr. Onceler to swear under his breath. "That'll be the lawyers," he mutters. He straightens in his chair before calling out "Yes?"

Sure enough, two men dressed immaculately in crisp business suits (which clashed dramatically with Mr. Onceler's flamboyant green suit) enter the room. They make a beeline for the desk but stop short when they notice you. "Oh, Mr. Onceler. We didn't realize you were busy," one of them says in an oily voice. "We can come back at a more convenient time…"

"It's fine," Mr. Onceler snaps. "I was just finishing up my morning meeting with my PA." He then spares you a glance. "I'm sure you have plenty to do. I'll let you know if I need you later."

That was as clear a dismissal as you've ever heard. You give him a quick nod before slipping into your office to, you know, actually do your job instead of inventing awkward scenarios in your head. Very soon, you'd have to find a happy medium of keeping things friendly with your boss and making sure you weren't crossing any lines.

But for now, work.

You didn't see Mr. Onceler again until early afternoon when he burst into your office, once again without knocking. Immediately, you see a difference in his attitude from this morning; his face is marred by a fierce scowl and he's practically stomping over to your desk instead of walking. You'd just pulled out your favorite chapstick and his eyes instantly zero in on it.

"I'm not paying you to put on makeup," he snarls, so hyper-aggressive that you're genuinely caught off guard. It takes you a moment to formulate a reply.

"It's not makeup. It's chapstick," you try and explain. "I'm just trying to put a little on while I finish up this email…" you trail off as you realize that his anger hasn't abated in the slightest.

"Whatever," he scoffs. "Why don't I have my sales reports for the week on my desk yet?"

That question throws you even more off guard. When the hell had he mentioned needing sales reports? You quickly and surreptitiously scan the emails you'd gotten that day to see if you'd somehow missed one from him, but no. You're so bewildered, the only thing you can think to do is look up at him and say, "Excuse me?"

"My. Sales. Reports," he growls, beginning to lean over you just as he had the night before. But if this was an intimidation tactic, it wasn't going to work; you were starting to find both your voice and your bravery.

"Hold on," you say, putting your hands in the classic "time-out" position. "First, the week isn't over. Do you want the report from last week or what we have from this week so far? Second, you never asked me for them. I can't do something for you if I don't know you want it done."

Thus far, you've been able to calm him when he's been in his fouler moods. Not so today. His scowl deepens as he pushes his face right into yours. "I do not give a single, solitary fuck if I asked before or not," he hisses. "I'm telling you right now that you don't get to leave until I see those reports on my desk." Without waiting for a response (or clarifying which reports he was talking about), he pushes himself back and marches out of your office, slamming the door as per usual.

You pause for a second to collect yourself. The hell was that? He was being completely irrational and, quite frankly, nasty.

You'll comply, but you decide you'll be a little mouthy when giving him his oh-so-precious sales reports. If he expected you to put up with his attitude quietly, he was about to be corrected real damn quick.

You get the reports back from the finance department right before your shift is scheduled to end, so at least you don't have to spend any extra time on his ridiculous requests. He never actually said which week he wanted, so you'd gotten both, and he could sort out what he needed his own damn self.

You print out the reports, staple the two different weeks together, then gather your things. You exit your office into his, finding him at his desk and still looking slightly bad-tempered. Before you can lose your nerve, you slam the papers down. 

"There's your reports," you bite out. "Now, if you don't have any other demands of me, I'm going home. Good night, sir."

You can tell you've stunned him, judging by his wide eyes and slightly agape mouth. But just like he'd done with you earlier, you don't give him a chance to respond before you toss your head back and saunter out of the room.

That day, as it turned out, was a perfect indicator of the several weeks to come. When Mr. Onceler was in a good mood, the days went well and you were able to enjoy pleasant conversations with each other. When he wasn't, he was irrational, impossible to please, and the two of you fought like cats and dogs because you refused to give in to his bad temper.

At least the bad days usually weren't several in a row. He seemed to recognize when he had majorly pissed you off, and while he never outright apologized, the mornings after his most volatile moods usually found him a bit meek and more cooperative than usual. You found that as long as you had those calm mornings afterwards, you could tolerate most of the nasty evenings.

At least until one day, almost three months into your employment. He had been riding out a horrible mood for four days now, and it didn't show signs of stopping any time soon. And you were getting completely fed up with him.

It was almost time for you to go home for an overdue weekend when he storms in. You're glad you had just put your chapstick away since he tends to make a big fuss over it for reasons unknown. But even though he can't even see it, the chapstick is still his first target. 

"It smells like cherries in here," he accuses, and it takes all of your self-control not to roll your eyes. Yes, your chapstick smells like cherries, and he was like a damn bloodhound when it came to the scent of your chapstick. He could smell the stuff even if it had been over an hour since you last applied it. And you were in no mood to try and placate him at the moment.

"What is your obsession with my chapstick?" you demand. "Like, do you want some? Because I can run down to the drugstore and pick some up for you come Monday. It's not a problem, I swear."

"Will you stop talking about the chapstick?" he finally interrupts. "I didn't come in here to talk to you about your chapstick, dammit."

"Then why do you bring it up every time you come into my office?" you fire back, not missing a beat. He had walked right into that one, and a spark of vindictive joy shoots through you when his eyes narrow as he realizes his mistake.

"Because it's distracting," he mutters, clearly conceding defeat for this round. "But again, not the point. Why haven't you gotten the thneed yet?"

Good Lord, not this again. Was he so desperate for a fight that he was willing to dredge up arguments from months ago? Apparently. You don't even try to stop yourself from rolling your eyes now. "As I've told you, I have to pay rent and feed myself first. I'd also like to have a bit of a savings fund. And I can see your schedule, remember? I'm in CHARGE of your schedule. If you have an event coming up that I'll need to be at and need one, I'll know about it in advance and make it happen."

"That's not–"

"That is what you're saying!" you explode, standing up from your desk to march towards him and get in his face like he so often loved to do to you. "Either you're saying I need something before I actually need it, or more likely, you want to pick a fight for some godforsaken reason. But I promise you, you want a fight, I'm more than happy to give you one."

"Do you forget who you're talking to?" he thunders back. "I don't like your attitude with me, got it? Do you know what your job is? If I ask you to jump, you say 'how high?' If I ask you for a flower on top of a mountain, you strap on your hiking boots. And if I ask you to buy a thneed, you buy a fucking thneed without giving me shit about it for once!"

"And would it kill you to ask nicely, for once?" At this point, the whole building can probably hear your raised voices, but you don't have the capacity to care. "You might find you'll get things you want done quicker if you sprinkle in a couple 'pleases' and maybe even a 'thank you' from time to time. I know the rest of your staff will cater to your every whim, but I am not someone you get to walk all over, no matter what my job description is. I WILL fight back and you WILL respect me, or I will walk out." Without giving him a chance to respond, you grab your bag and start to head out the door. "Good night sir," you add out of habit before you leave, thankful for the weekend that awaits you.

It's not until you're on the bus and halfway back home that you begin to think you may have gone just a little too far. You don't have any desire to take back any of your words, but you are beginning to regret sinking to his level and reducing to shouting.

But it can't be helped now. If he decides to fire you for acting just like him, then fine. He would be a hypocrite if he did, but you wouldn't be surprised. At least you won't have to worry about anything until Monday.

The next day, when you finally make your way downstairs after blissfully sleeping in for most of the morning, you find yourself mostly at peace with the situation. You're in a good mood and you don't want to let it spoil your day. You're mulling over a few different options, stuck between going to the gym or library first when your roommate calls you from the kitchen.

"There's a package that came for you," he says lightly, most of his attention on the lunch he's making himself. "It's over on the table."

A package? You have no idea who that could be from. Your sister, possibly, but you can't imagine why she wouldn't have mentioned she was sending something in your frequent phone calls with her.

The box is medium sized, and there's no return address on it. However, there's something familiar about the handwriting used for your own name and address.

You pick up the surprisingly light package and carry it up to your room. You pull out your keys to help you cut the tape when the address catches your eye again. The handwriting is much too familiar to be coincidental…

You let out an involuntary gasp as the realization finally hits you, and you wonder how it took you this long. "There's no way," you whisper to yourself.

You rip into the package as fast as you're able, and seconds later when it opens, your suspicions are confirmed. Sitting inside are several neatly folded thneeds. And not just the regular pink thneeds. Most of them were dyed different colors: orange, periwinkle, purple. You knew for a fact these colored ones were infinitely more expensive than the regular thneeds.

But why on earth would Mr. Onceler be sending you thneeds? You were positive it was him; no one else had the money to do this for you, and of course his handwriting had gotten your attention–you see it nearly every day.

Your first thought is that he believes you're just too poor to ever afford a thneed for yourself, and that sending you these is both some great act of charity in his mind and him being passive aggressive. But just as you begin to swell with anger, you spot a piece of paper in the box. You recognize this too, it's from his personalized memo pad. Curiously, you unfold the paper, only to see one word.

Sorry.

Oh. Shit.

Here he was, apologizing to you and giving you something you never would have been able to obtain otherwise, and you went and assumed the worst of him. Instead of firing you, which he was well within his rights to do, he extended an olive branch, and hadn't even waited until the work week started to do so. Meanwhile, you'd stewed in your anger and had managed to convince yourself it had been a good thing. This was a slap in the face in the worst of ways.

How were you ever going to face him on Monday?

[austinsgirl]

Rather Die | Chapter 10

word count: 2297

warnings: nsfw, oral sex, m in f intercourse, language

cross posted on wattpad

master list

a/n: thank you for everyone who has been reading! please let me know your thoughts!

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Mila rushes into Victoria's dressing room after she received a text that read "Come to my trailer ASAP. SOS."

"What?! What's wrong?!" Mila asks her stepping into the trailer.

"I think I still have feelings for Austin." Vic says in a disappointing tone.

"Nooooooo."

"Yes! Although we didn't actually have sex, that whole scene got me back in my feels again, and he's just hot and perfect and-

"Victoria. Calm down." Mila cuts off her rambling. "I'm sure once he starts being an asshole to you, you'll forget all about it. And you're goin out with Ashton now, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. I really like him. I don't want my feelings for Austin to come back & interfere with that."

"So let's just try and not think about Austin in that way. Just gotta remind yourself it was a just a scene, it's just acting."

"True."

*knock, knock*

"Come in!" Victoria says.

Austin peeps his head in through the door. "Hey, um, you won't have to worry about Eliana anymore. It's over between us. You were right."

"Told you so." Vic replies.

"Really? That's the actual response you're going to give? No remorse at all?"

"No. Because I literally told you so. You could have had me, and we'd still be together because I wouldn't have cheated. But you chose her instead. So, no. I don't feel bad for you at all."

"Alright. Whatever. You told me so. I'll see you after lunch."

"Mhm."

Austin left and it was just the girls again.

"There's my Austin hating girl." Mila says.

"Hearing him say I was right just ignited a flame in me to be petty again, and that flame like burned those romantic thoughts away."

"Good."

A couple of days have passed & Victoria has felt some weight lifted off her shoulders with Eliana not being around on set anymore. She would say some weight is still there, as there's still tension and feuding between her & Austin.

Ashton decided to visit Vic on set today. During breaks, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, like Austin & Eliana were once upon a time.

As they'd kiss here and there, being flirtatious with each other, Austin would glare at them in disgust.

"You jealous much?" Victoria asks him.

"No, but why don't you guys get a room." Austin replies.

"Nah. It's more fun to be all mushy gushy in front of everyone. I can see why you & Eliana were like this twenty four seven."

Austin rolls his eyes, "That was all Eliana, alright?"

"No, you could have stopped it. But you didn't."

"Hey babe, I have to go back to the studio. I'll see you tonight?" Ashton says to Victoria.

"Yeah, sounds perfect."

"My place at seven?"

"See you then."

Ashton heads off. Austin comes in with a bit of a snarky comment, "You don't seem as attracted to him as you were to me." he walks off towards his trailer, leaving Victoria confused.

"Wait, get back here! You can't just say something like that & walk away. What do you mean?" Vic follows after him.

"You don't seem like you're that attracted him. Not like you were with me."

"How do you even know?"

"I just do."

Victoria follows him into his trailer, "Well, I will have you know, that I am very attracted to Ashton."

"Yeah, okay."

"I am." she says confidently. "We're perfect for each other. He understands me-

Austin cuts her off, "Understands you? And I didn't?"

"Maybe at first, but that's a big maybe with how you treated me after I opened up to you. You're just jealous."

"Why would I be jealous of Ashton? He has to deal with all your whining twenty four seven."

Victoria let's out an annoyed groan. "I loathe you."

"I loathe you." Austin snaps back.

"I loathed you first." she says, getting in his face. Her eyes meet his before gazing down at his lips then back to his eyes.

Austin puts his hand on the behind her neck pulled her in for a kiss. A passionate & romantic one, at that.

Their arms wrap around each other, really getting lost in the kiss. Her arms around his neck, his around her waist.

Doesn't take Victoria long to realize what's happening. She removes her arms from around him and starts hitting on his shoulders to get him to stop kissing her.

When they pull away, she starts exclaiming, "What are you doing?! You can't just go around kissing people! Certainly not one's who have boyfriends!"

"Is he really your boyfriend?"

"Not yet, he hasn't asked to be official. But, still!"

"Wanna kiss again?" he smirks.

"Well, I- No! Stop it! Stop trying to confuse me!"

"What's so confusing about a kiss?"

"You're just trying to make me like you again, so I won't make things official with Ashton, and then you can have me all to yourself!"

"Cmon, Vic. We both know you enjoyed that." he looks her right in the eyes.

"Okay, so what if I did? Doesn't mean anything."

"But it could."

"I should go. I have to go-

Austin pulls her in by her arm for another kiss before she could head out the door.

This time the kiss is hundred times more passionate, and intense.

They continue it, going in for a makeout session. Austin reaches his hand up inside Victoria's shirt. Surprisingly, she doesn't stop him. He moves his lips her neck, and she gives him more access by tilting her head.

Austin moves his other hand inside her shirt, he starts to unhook her bra.

He breaks his neck kissing, so they can both undress themselves down to just their underwear.

They kiss again, as Austin pushes her back onto the couch. His lips travel down her tanned skin, stopping at her underwear.

He takes the hem of her panties into his hands and slides them off of her.

Victoria feels his hot breath on her core. She knows what's coming, but doesn't know how good it's going to make her feel.

Austin slowly circles her clit with his tongue. Shivers run down her spine at the feeling of it.

Her breathing starts to get heavy the more Austin works his tongue, making her way to having soaking wet insides.

Austin starts sucking on her clit, making Victoria's back arch. He continues to suck as hard as he can until he gets an orgasm out of her.

It didn't take long until her juices were flowing out of her as she came to her orgasm. Of course, as soon as she came, Austin cleans her right up.

"Fuck me. Right now." Victoria let's out, out of breath.

"Say less."

Austin pulls down his underwear, letting his rock hard dick pop out.

Victoria's eyes turn dark at the site of it. She always thought he would be the type to have a good length, but she couldn't believe she was right.

Austin slips himself into her wet pussy. A loud moan escapes from Victoria's lips.

Austin quickly covers her mouth with his hand. "Shh, don't let anyone hear you."

He keeps his hand there for a while to help her stay quiet as he thrusts in & out of her.

Once she's able to control her sounds, he takes that hand that was on her mouth, and uses it to rub on her clit.

Victoria tries so hard to not moan out loud from all of the stimulation going on. She bites her lip trying to keep herself together.

"Austin, I'm gonna..." she can barely get her words out.

"Fuck, me too." he says.

They both release themselves. Victoria's orgasm has her eyes rolling back, as she cums multiple times, making her see stars.

Austin collapse on top of her. They lay there for a moment to compose themselves.

"Oh my god...you have got to be kidding me." Vic says in disbelief at how good that was.

She repeats herself, but this time in a "Oh my god, you have to be fucking kidding me. We did not just do this." tone.

"What?" Austin questions.

"Get up." Vic says to him, trying to get him off of her. "I shouldn't have done this. I really shouldn't have. This was a mistake."

Victoria rushes to get changed before leaving.

"Vic, come on. No it wasn't."Austin says.

"Maybe for you it wasn't. We're never speaking of this. Ever. Got it?"

"Fine. Got it."

On her way out of the trailer, Austin says, "So much for wanting to rather die than to ever be with me." he smirks.

Victoria rolls her eyes & scoffs before leaving.

On hers & Mila's way home from, Mila could tell something was bothering Vic.

"Hey, did something happen today?" Mila asks.

"I um- rather not talk about it." Victoria says, keeping her eyes on the road.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Well, I'm here when you're ready. By the way, you have hickie on your neck."

"Goddamnit, Butler." Vic blurts out.

"Butler?? That's from Austin??"

"....yeah."

"Is that what's bother you?"

"....yeah."

"You had sex with Austin??"

"Yes, I did. It was a mistake. Don't say a WORD to Ashton."

"You know I won't. But spill the tea. How'd it happen?"

"We were arguing again. He started it of course, being jealous of me and Ash. He said I wasn't as attracted to Ash as I was to him, so that lead us into an agrument and it got heated & he pulled me into a kiss and then I was like "Why would you do that??" and I tried to leave, but he pulled me in again, and I stupidly caved. Goddamn those luscious lips of his and that expensive cologne he wears. Now I feel like a cheating asshole."

"I mean, technically you didn't cheat. You and Ash aren't official."

"I know, but we basically are. We've seen each other almost everyday since our first date, we've had sex a few times now, we kiss a lot, hold hands, use pet names. Like yeah, we're not official but we're about to be anytime now."

"Yeeaaahh. At least filming is almost done, then you don't have to see Austin til promo time."

"True. I'm just gonna go on like this never happened. If Ashton sees the hickie, I'll tell him it's from him. I can't believe I fell in his trap."

"Hopefully it'll be the only time you will."

"I fucking hope so."

When the girls got home, Ashton was waiting for Victoria, surprising her.

"Hey! What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you at your place?" Vic asks him getitng out of her car, as she parked next to him. Her heart races, beating a million times per second. At least that's what it feels like.

She was hoping she'd have time to cover up the fresh marking on her neck Austin so kindly left her before seeing Ashton.

"I thought I'd surprise you, and we can go pick up some food before we have a nice night at my place." Ash smirks.

"Oh, that sounds perfect. Um, are you good if I go freshen up and change real quick?"

"Yeah, no problem babe. I'll wait here for you. Oh, what's that on your neck? Did I do that?"

"Oh, yeah." Victoria nervously chuckles. "I think you were kissing on my neck a little too hard earlier."

"Oh, oops. My bad. Is the makeup department at work going to be mad?"

"Eh, they might be annoyed, but it's fine. They can deal with it."

"Alright. I apologize if they get upset."

"Don't worry about it. I'll be right back." Vic kisses him quick and heads into the apartment with Mila.

"Oh my god. I'm so glad he thought he did it & I didn't have to suffer through making up the lie." Victoria says to Mila.

"Oh, I know. I was getting nervous there for a second."

"Girl tell me about it. My heart was racing."

"I bet. Good luck tonight."

"Thanks. I'm gonna need it."

Victoria freshens up when she gets upstairs and changes her outfit into a something a bit cuter if this going to be more of a date night than hanging out. She slipped on one of her favorite sun dresses and paired it with some sandals.

She met with Ashton downstairs & they went to a sushi place near his house and got dinner.

"So, how was work after I left today?" Ashton asks before taking a bite of his wasabi roll.

"Um, it was fine. Nothing really happened."

"Fuck me. Right now." played in her head, thinking back to earlier.

The guilt is slowly starting to eat her alive inside.

“That’s good. Austin didn’t give you too much shit?”

“No, he was fine.”

“Yeah, he gave you shit, that led to making a huge mistake.” she thought to herself.

“Good. Because he ever really starts to get to you, let me know I’ll come kick his ass.”

“Nooo, don’t do that. I can handle him myself.”

“Okay. But seriously though, he gets too much, I’ll at least talk to him.”

“Thank you, Ash. I appreciate it.”

After dinner, they headed to his place and went straight to the bedroom.

As Ashton went down on her, all Victoria could think about was Austin. How he was doing this exact same thing just hours ago.

When Ashton slipped himself in, again, all she could think about was Austin. How he felt inside of her. How it felt after they came together.

Victoria was surprised with herself that she could moan out the right name with Austin taking over mind.

The next couple weeks of finishing up this movie is going to be hardest. Victoria can only hope Austin will behave so she can forget todays incident ever happened.

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[hybridequalist]

At long last, it's out. I had to save this draft from the Ao3 shutdown, but thankfully it's all still here.

Previous Chapter (tumblr link)

Taglist (you can be added upon request):  @ sesquipedalian-aficionado   @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger​

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

It was a weird feeling to be visiting one of the exam rooms in the hospital while off the clock--it was like you were playing pretend, sitting on the exam table like any other patient as if you didn't mop these floors or empty the trash cans regularly. Even weirder to be with someone who was not only ready for but expecting their thoughts to be read.

"I'm not going to lie to you, this was actually pretty open and shut in terms of examination," Dr Dan remarked, pulling out the MRI images from his folder.  "There was no damage that we could detect from your fall."

"No signs of any contact with a symbiote either. Can't say I understand the specific neurology of how it happened, but the connection you experienced with him left no physical impact."

How was he so good at communicating on two fronts? He couldn't have had practice with it--you didn't get the impression Dr. Dan had regular superhuman contact (leaving out Venom and Eddie). Maybe it had to do with how much he had going on in his head; he was an observer and was always analyzing stuff.

"There was one thing I took note of that I wanted to bring up, however," he continued aloud, picking up one of the printouts and placing it on a clipboard. He pointed to a specific gray spot, near the lower middle of the brain. "This is your amygdala--the 'fear center' of your brain. On most people, it doesn't show up as prominently as this on an MRI."

You held up your hand to stop the doctor and pulled out your phone, checking that the volume was up.

"Is that a problem I need to worry about?" the device vocalized for you.

"Not necessarily; it usually means that your amygdala has increased activation compared to most other patients we scan." Dr. Dan frowned to himself, something occurring to him. "It's not exactly the same, but it does resemble how the amygdala looks in patients with a PTSD diagnosis. However, that isn't something that can be diagnosed by MRI and I am not qualified to make that call regardless. Now, moving on to these other scans..."

He pulled out a few of the printouts, handing them over and waiting expectantly, his face not revealing his giddy excitement. You stared down at the monochrome images of your own brain from multiple angles (though thankfully not a cursed front-facing one), but they looked the same as any you'd ever seen before--they might as well be a stock image used in a medical drama.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm supposed to see in these pictures," you commented, handing back the rectangles of glossy paper.

"That's just it: these are the scans I took while you were actively 'reading my mind'! They look completely normal! It's fascinating!"

"The procedure was similar to brain mapping, which basically tells anyone who knows how to read an MRI what parts of the brain are active at any given moment," he continued aloud, taking back the pictures and rifling through them to pick one in particular. "This one shows that your brain was engaged in the same way as when someone is actively listening to a conversation. But it's this one that's really interesting."

He flipped around another picture and you noticed this one seemed a bit clearer on some brain areas than the other scans you'd looked at.

"This scan, however, is when I asked you to pay attention to the memory. As you can see here--" he lightly touched towards the front part of the brain "--your emotional centers were wholly engaged, borderline hyper-activated which is why they're so clear. The language center is almost completely inactive by comparison."

"Now the exact reasons are a little unclear because there's not exactly any research about 'mind reading', but if I were to hypothesize as to why, I'd say that while passively 'listening' to thoughts, your brain operates like you're listening to a vocal conversation. But when it comes to focusing on a memory, you experience something closer to total empathy--you experience the memories of other people as if living through that experience in reality. When you connected with Venom's memory, you experienced this total empathy with a sapient but entirely non-human organism, meaning that your human sensory understanding of the world clashed with Venom's alien sensory experience, which is probably what caused the mental shock you reported; because Venom doesn't have the same senses as a human being when unbonded, his memory overwhelmed your brain trying to translate the information."

Dan was so excited. This was something new, something that had never been experienced or studied and he was lucky enough to witness it. But he was intentionally repressing that feeling, making a conscious effort to watch your face and remind himself that you were a person who potentially had some trauma mixed in with all the things he found so interesting.

He was really good at his job, unlike many others you could name.

You were in the midst of trying to think of a good response when suddenly your phone began to vibrate aggressively. You rushed to shut it off, feeling an involuntary flush color your body at the sudden interruption.

"I have a trolley to catch," you explained, standing up and gathering your things. "I can't afford to miss my errands before work today."

"It's perfectly alright," Dan assured you, giving a gentle smile. "I'll go ahead and note that you appear in good health, but if anything else comes up, do not be afraid to give me a call--or whatever form of communication suits you best. Eddie knows how to reach me directly if anything concerning develops."

You nodded, staring down at your shoes as you put in your earbuds, starting up music to drown out the thoughts of anyone you might pass--people tended to unconsciously advertise hyper-personal details or very gross things in medical contexts. If you had to "see" one more weird rash secondhand, it would be too soon. Oh yeah, and the small issue of lots of people being in simultaneous pain that made your body ache in sympathy.

Idly, you opened your phone calendar and looked at your list for today's outing, walking through the steps in your head for how to make your afternoon as easy as possible. As you stepped into the lobby, someone shoulder checked you as they went to grab a drink from the water cooler. Not gently either; there was some impact that hinted it might have been intentional.

"Shoot, I'm sorry! Thought I cleared you. Are you okay?"

You glanced whomever had just crashed into you and were met with a wall of pastels--blonde hair streaked with sky blue highlights, a pale yellow tee peeking from under white, sleeveless denim, dotted with vibrant pins of all shades and slogans. Focusing in, you realized that despite the height of your new forced acquaintance, their face was very young--they couldn't be more than sixteen at the oldest.

"I knew I shouldn't have worn heels today! But you're good, right? No injury?"

Nothing they said felt out of place, the tone was an appropriate level of concerned and the volume was just right for a normal conversation, but their thoughts were focused on anything but actual worry for your well-being. They were looking you over with a distinct focus, looking for any exposed skin and trying to strategize how they might be able to make some casual contact without appearing overbearing or drawing attention.

Aware that many eyes were on you and not wanting to draw any suspicion that you were escaping, you waved your hand in a "don't worry about it" way and adjusted one of your earbuds, praying it would be enough to signal that you were going to mind your own business and they should do the same.

Their mind confirmed you had succeeded, but your chest tightened as you felt their determination to put their hand on you spike. It didn't have any obviously malicious undertones--no lust, no violence, no harmful intent--but the simple fact they wanted to make skin-to-skin contact so badly set off all your internal alarm bells. You stumbled a few steps back, creating a gap with one of the waiting room chairs between the two of you, your gaze cataloguing everything you could about this person, determined to give a face to the thoughts that were triggering your flight response--another presence to add to the list of avoidance.

The world began to blur as your brain started to race, feeling an increasing number of thoughts focusing in on the small confrontation unfolding before their eyes. Breathe, you reminded yourself. I can't have a breakdown here.

You didn't care how it looked as you all but fled the hospital lobby--you just needed to GET OUT. The more distance the better. It didn't matter that you were basically blinded by the outdoor sun, you were out of there. You knew you weren't being followed, but the sting of frustration that came from the pastel stranger was plenty to assure you that it had been the right choice to ignore all social graces and follow your gut.

Once the hospital was long out of sight, you took a second to breathe, fighting tears that threatened to escape. You had too much to do and no one was going to cover for you if you lost it--that would require explanations that you couldn't give.

Work was blessedly normal--you had a few sticky notes of things patients had requested you pass on to the nurses (both literally asked and silently craved) and aside from someone accidentally tearing their stitches while stretching, no emergencies. But as you changed the linens on one of the recently vacated beds, the personal radio clipped to your uniform beeped. You frowned as someone spoke through it--the receptionist at the front desk, a friendly part-timer in her 50s named Janice.

"Can you come down to the records room? There's a situation developing."

You pressed the response button in the affirmative pattern--one long call, one short, two long to match the morse code "y"--and left your supplies where they laid to jog towards the room where you'd been summoned.

Janice was pacing by the door, barely dodging out of the way when you came in. Her face was scrunched in worry and she immediately pulled a pen and a scrap of notebook paper out when she laid eyes on you.

"Glad you came quick. There's a guy who came in asking if his girlfriend had been checked in. He gave a description that matched you creepily closely, claimed your last name was hers. Gave off bad vibes something fierce, so I didn't want to confirm anything. He's waiting in reception right now, refused outright to give his name."

The image in her mind was unmistakable: a shorter man, average build--a little on the scrawny side, actually--with a blonde crew cut and hazel eyes that held unmistakable malice.

You thought your stomach had dropped plenty when encountering the pastel stranger. The sight of Mitch at your workplace sent it through the floor.

Janice was still trying to explain what had happened at the desk and how she was trying to buy time, but you grabbed the paper and pen from her hand and scrawled as fast as your hands allowed without tearing through the flimsy surface.

He's bad news. Major bad news for me. Don't tell him I'm here. Long story, but he is not a safe person. I need to report this to Dustin, he'll get a notice to everyone who needs to know.

You shoved the paper back into Janice's hands and jerked the door open, sprinting for the elevators and thanking your lucky stars that the swing shift wasn't over quite yet--Dustin was on that rotation for the month and it would have been a nightmare to contact him if he wasn't onsite.

The administrative offices weren't an area of the hospital you spent a lot of time, but the unfamiliarity of the layout proved no big deal: there were only a handful of people up here and your sixth sense picked up on your handler's thoughts with little effort, serving as a waypoint in the boring, flat colored halls. You entered the office without knocking, setting the deadbolt and pulling the blinds on the small hallway-facing window shut.

"Excuse me, what are you--oh, it's you. Nevermind then; proceed." Dustin--a slightly fat man with a shaved head and square glasses--had jolted to his feet indignantly upon your entry but upon recognizing you, he settled back into his office chair, locking his computer and going to shut off his phone. Of course, you only ever came to see in of your own choice when there was something serious to discuss--and you weren't one to make mountains out of what he might consider molehills.

"A man came here to look for me," you signed, intentionally slowing your pace and giving the hospital admin time to read your signs as he was consistently out of practice. "His name is Mitchell Barrett. He's affiliated with a known agitator group."

"The one mentioned in your files or a separate entity?" Dustin whipped out a pen and began to write down the required incident codes.

"The one in my files, but I don't know if there is still an organized system. His current goals are unknown, but this is the second approach attempt he's made. I don't know how he found out this is my workplace, but I am so far his only target."

Your boss finished taking his notes and sighed heavily. Being a Hospital Admin was a seriously stressful job at times, but having to fulfill his secondary job at the same time? If it wasn't deemed a big enough concern by the USMS, then he'd be in charge of managing the response and with the investigation going on in regards to the--

"If you don't have any more relevant details to report, would you mind not following my thoughts all over the place?" Dustin interrupted, frowning at you. "You're free to clock out if you feel you will be more secure at home, I will excuse the absence as an emergency. I'll also have to pass along the warning to Dr. Joland and the other relevant staff."

Nerves twisted up, mouth dry and cheeks flushed, you stumbled back out of the office, struggling for a moment with the door latch. It hadn't been an intentional move to read Dustin's thoughts, but to be fair he was the only one who would know it was happening: he had a sensitivity for mutant powers that had forced him into the position he currently occupied. As you stepped through the elevator doors, your knees suddenly refused to support you any longer. Your hand dragged across the buttons, lighting up a handful of them as the doors slid shut, slowing your descent and giving time for you to silently weep at the years of your peace that had just ended.

[vgucciking]

New School and New Drama

3 Chapter “The Local Dead Kids”

Jolting awake to the sound of my alarm, I groaned. Slamming my hand down on object put a stop to its agonising screeches.

8am it read. Yawning and stretching I pulled the covers off of me and stood. Something doesn't feel right? Is it the fact I have school? Wait...twisting my head towards my clock, my eyes went wide. "8am!?" I screamed rushing around my room, trying to find whatever clothes to throw on.

Finding some flare pants, I put them on. Now I just need a shirt. Coming across a white and green striped t-shirt, I picked it up and rushed out of the room. Skimming down the stairs I made it into the kitchen, grabbing an apple.

I put the t-shirt on and took a bite of my apple. I grabbed my school bag, swinging it over my right shoulder before walking out the door towards hell. Sorry I meant school...

Knowing JJ he'd still be asleep and his parents don't care as much as mine, so it's safe to say he'll be the kid that comes like once or twice a week. So I didn't bother going to his.

After 10 minutes of walking I seen the school come into view. It looked very empty, probably because it's still teaching time. That reminds me, I might as well cruise around until lunch.

I'm not about to walk into empty hallways, and make loud ass noise. Then walk into class midway, and be scolded by the teacher. Yeah waiting does seem like a good idea. And plus, people will think I'm just a normal kid that's been going here for a while.

Deciding to just chill around school, I waited underneath a tree, and started reading a book I had in my bag. After reading 3 chapters I finally heard the bell ring, signalling for lunch.

Putting my book away I stood up and walked towards the entrance. "Here we go" I murmur, my hand clenched the strap of my bag. Pushing the doors open, my theory from before fell right out of my ass. Students turned their heads and started whispering.

Some walked past and smiled at me, other just stood at their lockers, staring at me. I'm seriously gonna murder JJ. Maybe I should've just woken him up, and forced him to come.

Mustering the best blank, and bored face I could. I continued walking down the hallways "Who's that?" Someone whispered.

"She looks really pretty" A boy complemented "For a whore" a girl added. Ignoring her snarky comment I continued to walk further into this daunting place.

Three boys were leaning against a wall, staring at me. The middle boy winked my way, and started walking towards me. Oh hell no. Not today, fastening my pace, I acted as if I didn't hear him call out to me.

Where's the goddamn office!?

-

Standing right in front of this office lady, who literally ignored my presence. I slammed my hand down on the counter, watching as she jumped a little "Excuse me, but I'd like to get my locker combination, and my schedule. If that's not too hard for you, although that is why you're here" A sweet sickly smile crawled upon my lips.

She, who was taken aback by my sudden outburst, quickly grabbed everything I needed "here you go" "thanks" turning around I walked back into the hallways. Fuck this. I'm waiting until after school to find my locker.

Looking at my timetable I groaned. GYM CLASS!? Believe me, I love sports. I just have to be in the mood to do it. Looking around the hallways, my eyes met with those same brown ones I saw yesterday. What was his name again? Flint? Philip? Wait..Finn? No.FINNEY!  Yes that's his name.

Walking over to him, he seemed to get a bit tense and looked behind him to see if I was actually heading towards him, and not someone else. It seemed the more I approached the more nervous he got.

"Hey! You're Finney right?" He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, instead he looked like a fish gasping for air. Giggling I spoke "I'll take that as a yes?" He shook his head and awkwardly smiled.

"Y-yeah" he quietly spoke. "Well Finney...I was hoping you'd be able to help me find Gym class?" Looking around desperately, he turned to me and said "sure" We started our adventure in silence. Wow, this couldn't of have been more awkward and agonising.

Students seemed to gossip when they saw us together, what was their deal? Is it not common for a girl and boy to walk together or be friends here? Wait screw that, there was plenty of girls and boys together.

"Uh, I forgot to introduce myself" scratching the back of my head, I laughed a bit "my names-" I was cut off by him "Y/n" My mouth hung wide open. How'd he know? "Don't worry I didn't stalk. I seen you talking to a boy at the games. Overheard him saying your name" Ohhh, well that explains why he knew.

Closing my mouth he stopped walking. Confused I looked at him "This is Gym class," I seen two big doors in front of me, with some windows. I peeked through them and seen kids playing with some balls. Well it is break. "Since it's second period, you'll have Vance Hopper in your class" snapping my head I raised an eyebrow "why do I need that information?" "Well he's a nut head. But he's also a friend of mine."

He walked closer to me and peeked through the glass "he's not here right now, but you'll know who he is" nodding my head I opened the door.

"Thanks Finney!" I said with a slick smile, he gently smiled back and held his hand up "It's fine, and just call me Finn" doing the thumbs up, I walked right into Gym class.

Great. Am I supposed to make friends with that Vance kid? Who knows. Walking towards the rows of seats on the side, I sat down and placed my bag beside me.

"Did you know we have one of those dead kids in our class?" A girl whispered. She was next to me but a few seats away. "Holy shit! You're kidding right?" The other said. The first one had platinum blonde hair, while the other had dirty blonde hair.

"No! It's their first day back at school too!" Who we're they talking about? "What if he haunts us Stacy!?" Oh so that's the platinum blonde hairs name? Her face went white "Don't scare me like that Phoebe!" Stacy whispered shouted, slapping her friends arm.

Just then a that same girl from yesterday walked in, scanning the seating area, as if looking for someone. The two girls look at her and start shouting "Donna!" "DONNA! Over hereee!" Jesus Christ, my ears are gonna start bleeding.

Donna jogged over, and side eyed me. She quickly smiled and turned her attention back to the two girls "Hey guys!" Sitting down they started gossiping again.

"Didn't Finney save them?" Phoebe questioned, Stacy leaned into the little circle they had formed and nodded "yeah, my dads a cop and he said that Finney had snapped the grabbers neck" Donna and Phoebe both grimaced. Donna rubbed her neck as if she could feel the pain of having her neck snapped.

"Let's stop talking about it. It's making me uncomfortable" Donna said, now looking at the waxed wooden floor, a frown present. Both girls quickly switched the subject.

Hmm interesting. So not only am I new, I also don't know anything that's happened here. Especially with Finney, maybe I can ask him.

Just then the bell went off. The kids started throwing the balls into this bag, and exited through the big doors. Some coming over to the benches, because they have this class.

As people started piling into the room, I noticed an orange headed boy from this morning. He was the kid who winked at me. As if he could sense me staring at him, he connected his eyes with mine, a grin now present.

He strutted over towards me, and sat down next to me. "Hey babes" he said in a, well what seemed a deep voice that was forced. With that he swung an arm over my shoulder. Cringing I turned to him and pushed him off of me "Excuse me, I don't know about everyone else. But I really don't feel like having some orange looking boy, all up in my personal space" his grin was immediately replaced with a scowl.

"You better watch your-" he went flying backwards, and smacked into the chairs behind him. Now everyone was staring. What the heck just happened? Looking around my eyes fell on a ball, rolling towards a pair of shoes.

Shoes that were connected to a person. A shoulder length, curly, dirty blonde haired guy. Blue piercing eyes, that stared daggers at the orange boy.

"Hey Asshole! You're in my spot" He boomed. It was very silent, except for that orange boy, who now had a bleeding nose. His breathing was uneasy, and he kept whipping the blood away, only for it to be replaced with more blood.

The blonde guy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes "Did you fucking hear me? Or are you deaf?" Walking up to us, he now stood in front of the guy, which was next to me.

The orange guy looked up and smirked "Vance, how pleasant to see you again" his eyebrow twitched "Well yeah, I just came back from hell" What? Orange boy let out a scuffled laugh as he punched his nose and stood up.

He was slightly shorter than the kid Vance, but still sized him up. "You're still considered dead. Just like all the other boys." Vance then grabbed boys hair, bending him over and quickly kneeing him in the face. Dropping to the floor again, Vance kicked him in the stomach five times, grunting the words "Todays. The. Day. Mother. Fucker!" Out.

He took a step back, breathing heavily. Pulling the finger at the kid, he took a seat next to me. His apparent spot. Some of the orange kids friends, took him to the infirmary. Leaving random puddles of blood splattered across the floor.

Too shocked to say anything, I just kept my eyesight in front of me. Not wanting to end up like that kid. But I'm glad that kid isn't flirting with me no more. The student around us were whispering. Or minding their own business like I was.

"Vance" he suddenly spoke. Staying quiet, I side eyed him "Yes I'm talking to you, idiot" he snapped his head in my direction. I quickly rushed my gaze in front of me. "I'm Vance Hopper. You must be Y/n. The new girl that Finn was talking about" you blushed. Finn was talking about me?

"Uh-yeah-I'm y/n." He chuckled, a mischievous grin now displaying on his features "Don't worry. You're not gonna end up like asshole number 1" I silently nodded. They have nicknames now?

And this must be one of the local dead kids. Gyms definitely gonna be interesting.

———

Instagram ~ V_Guccciking

Tiktok ~ Im_Okie

[comfort-questing]

20 questions for writers

tagged by @therosefrontier :) thanks!

--

How many works do you have on AO3?

21, but one's a collection of fe3h drabbles and small fics totalling 13.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

98,576 apparently! ...seems about right.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

uh. Genshin... Critrole... Fire Emblem Three Houses... also Fate Zero, finally, triumphantly, eventually. I've written bits of stuff here and there for other ones but most of it isn't published.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

night and death and the rain are given, 729, because Kaeya whump brings out the fans?? also I had a good update schedule for it, haha, which probably helped.

flame to dark, 393, my first Genshin fic. I guess Diluc whump is also popular. I remember being so chuffed that people liked it.

something which nobody may keep. 219, fain's dear angst art made into a Whumptober 2022 prompt... wait, that was just last year?

the sea, the storm, the stars, 217, right after. writing about Kazuha is hard because thinking about him hurts a little, but I do love this story so.

a gently welcoming darkestness, 186, which surprises me that it made the top 5 since that was where my regular update schedule went to die, and didn't take off as quickly. but I'm glad folk ended up liking it.

all Genshin, haha. and 4/5 ragbros.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! although if someone comments on each chapter I may not respond to every single one. but I like to respond, because I like to be responded to on mine when I can be, and because it does make me so happy for them to comment.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh boy. that's a toss-up between the last of my fe3h drabbles that I put up, "not glory nor goodness," and just about any of my fate zero pieces, but probably on these sands I built my fortresses. the horror of having to kill Felix at Arianhrod, because not killing him means other students die, vs. Saber's shame and self-hatred and having to kill one of her old associates too. maybe I should say the fe3h one because I don't like re-reading it but I will the other one.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I... was going to say I usually did happy endings but that's not quite true. I write ambiguous, nervous, and hopeful-in-the-midst-of-confusion endings. I think the only uncomplicated happy endings I've done were the fluff fics for a couple exchanges. specially driftwood and light for Critrole, which is all about getting rescued!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thankfully, though I did get someone once commenting that my snarky/dark humor author's notes on some whump fic ruined the mood. it stung a bit, but I kept doing it, and also deleted the comment.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

heh... I do not... I tend to think what characters do in the bedroom is their own business, although now and again I admit some amorphous spicy headcanon occurs to me. usually in regards to someone else's suggestion or a fic that I scroll past that I think brazenly mischaracterizes their sex lives...

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

usually don't, but I do have a funky little dialogue piece between RWBY characters and Morgaine and Vanye from the Morgaine Chronicles that I never posted. This is because I think I may be the only person in the universe who is familiar with both fandoms. if there are any others I really want to meet them though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

hope not! ...though there was one that got published shortly after the author put kudos on one of mine, and it was a very similar concept and similar imagery at several points. but they did a totally different thing with it and went in a different direction! so even if it was borrowed it was Fair Use and I'm rather proud of them. :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that I know of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but I'd love to someday! I am not good at plots. I admire when folk are good at plots. I want to be part of their plots and fill in all the corners with conversations and angst and character stuff.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I'm not really a shipper of anything particularly, but... I suppose the only ship tag I actually ever used is for Zen and Shirayuki from snow white with the red hair? and I do love their relationship, haha.

oh! that reminds me. I think my favorite ships are Hak/Yona from Yona of the Dawn and also Royai from FMA just like my tagger said.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

...of original works? oh so many. of fanfic? uh... I want to write a Fate/Stay Night AU where Saber saves Ilya, and I did start it. what's likelier to happen there is I write it as a bunch of short stories and they may just end up being bittersweet with a side of catharsis?

I want to write an Inazuma Rebellion AU for Genshin but that's more of a "literally never started" than any kind of "in progress."

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think it's fair to say description? people mention it a lot, and I like to write it. I love words. words are amazing. the things that people can do with words are amazing. I like to make words do cool things too.

I like writing dialogue a lot too, when I can.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

plots. pacing, sometimes. fight scenes, or used to be, but I think I'm getting better at them.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I never have, but if it came up I could try? though I certainly wouldn't trust google translate.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

in little bits and snipppets... the Chronicles of Narnia when I was a small kid, and then Warriors Cats like the rest of us (heh), and I think Redwall? I made stories up about the sci-fi series Dad read to us when I was very very young, but I don't think I'd call them writing per se.

and then I did a lot of mediocre heartfelt Lord of the Rings fic when I was 11-12ish, which I didn't post although my friend encouraged me to. that was the first fandom where I wrote anything more than, like, half a page. in fact, it was very many pages. I want to say there were like 4 separate OCs and concepts I was writing, and they never intersected, they were all just different twists I had.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

that's a tough one. I... actually really love my longer fe3h fic, the bright and the broken - which completely elided all ships in a very shippy fandom with an alacrity that was not my intent but my outcome. the conv I wrote there, about helping people being like dropping pebbles in a well, and never knowing which one is going to be the one that lifts them high enough to reach the light... I think about that still and I'm not sure where I got it but I think it's true. also encapsulates what I love the most about Three Houses. loving people is how you change the course of the narrative... you can't save everyone all the time but you can save almost everyone most of the time if you do what you can??

I think my fate/zero trilogy is the most uh... emotionally cathartic of them for me though. I hope it finds the approximately 2.9 people in the universe besides me that it makes sense to, wherever they are.

--

tagging @notfromcold, @erinaceina, @isnt-it-pretty, anyone else who wants to bc I'm sure I'm forgetting folk

[taomyou]

The Romance of Reimbursements - Chapter 18

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Status: COMPLETED Summary: There’s a guy you see every Friday on bus 143, and you think he’s pretty hot. It wouldn’t hurt to tell your best friend about him, would it? or, you and Levi take the same bus home from work every Friday, and you fall in love slowly, clumsily, and with all the time in the world to fold as many paper stars as your heart desires. Word Count: 7.1k Tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, modern au, office au, fluff, romance, meet-cute, matchmaking (A/N: this fic is entirely available on ao3 here if you would like to read it there instead!) Chapter Navigation Accompanying Playlist

injuries of the hand and face

“So, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t fucking know! I don’t know how any of this stuff works!”

After your sleepless Saturday night, you spent Sunday completely holed up in your apartment, vying for absolutely anything to distract yourself from feeling anything at all.

You tried baking, but that was no use—when you caught sight of the bag of flour in your cupboard, you could only think of Levi’s flour-dusted front from when the two of you made brownies for Moblit’s birthday. Turning on the TV to rewatch your favorite movie brought nostalgia for the night you and him spent on the couch, making snarky comments at the people on-screen. Reorganizing your closet meant seeing your blue dress again—the one you haven’t worn since Valentine’s Day with him—and that obviously did numbers on your head.

Fuck, even taking a shower reminded you of him, screaming about how the water was too cold and the knobs too confusing.

Needless to say, you were largely unsuccessful in your efforts to ignore your thoughts, but with your lack of knowledge of how to handle them, you couldn't even start to figure things out on your own.

After another sleepless night, you had to go to work, which brings you to this morning.

When you went to take your usual seat on the bus, you couldn’t help but continually look over to your left, thinking that the seat felt empty without him there next to you.

When you got to the office and Armin approached you asking what tea you wanted, your brain short-circuited, immediately changing gears to think about what tea you could get Levi next week.

When you were doing your paperwork, you couldn’t help but feel like Levi would’ve scolded you for overworking yourself after not sleeping enough over the weekend.

Petra and Mikasa noticed that something was wrong near immediately, and the two forced you into the breakroom during your lunch break, where you’ve been forced to spill out your heart for the last hour practically at gunpoint.

And here you are now, still with no idea what to make of your feelings.

Defeated, you put your head down on the table. “…Am I even supposed to do anything?”

“You could wait for him to ask you out on a date,” Petra suggests. “Then you could decide if you like him or not?”

Mikasa shakes her head. “Yeah, that is not happening.”

“Why not? Maybe she just needs to go on a date with him to figure out her own feelings.”

“He sounds just as dense, if not worse, so he definitely is not going to be asking her out anytime soon,” Mikasa remarks. “And we already know she likes him, they don’t need to go on a date for her to realize that.”

“I don’t like him!”

You don’t look up to check, but you’re sure that Mikasa’s deadpanning at you.

“You literally just spent the last hour telling us that you missed him and that you couldn’t even take a fucking shower without thinking about him, do you really expect us to believe that you don’t like him?”

Groaning, you lift your head up and prop it on your hand. “No, but trust me, I don’t.”

“Okay then, genius, what do you think your feelings entail?”

“I don’t know! I’m probably just confused!”

“Then you can’t entirely rule out the possibility of you liking him!”

Petra sighs. “Mikasa’s right, you can’t just say you don’t like him without at least giving him a chance.”

You pick up your teacup, idly swirling the liquid inside. “He definitely does not want one, why do I even have to consider it?”

“And how do you know that? Did he tell you?”

“Well, no, but I’m sure—”

“You can’t be sure about anything until he says it! What if he’s going through the exact same thing you are right now?”

The sound of the door clicking open gets the attention of all three of you, and none of you say anything as you turn to look at who’s coming in.

“Mikasa, could you come with me?” Erwin asks, now standing at the doorway.

Mikasa looks between you and Petra before nodding, hesitating for a second before gathering all of her things on the table. You eye Erwin from your seat, but he only gives back a stern look. He eventually does leave with Mikasa, but she shoots back a nervous look to you and Petra on her way out the door.

“What do you think he needs to talk to her about?” Petra asks.

You take a sip of your tea, still looking towards the now-closed door. “The future, probably.”

“Oh, she's gradating soon, right?”

You nod. “Yeah, their ceremony’s in 2 weeks.”

She wistfully sighs. “I’m sad to see her go, I just started warming up to them too.”

You bite your cheek, holding yourself back from bringing up the possibility of all three of them staying. You're fairly certain they will, going by the fact that Erwin's just gone so often nowadays that he just has to be away working on getting them their return offers, but you don't want to jinx anything.

“Yeah, they’re good kids, I wish they could stay.”

“Everyone thought that about you, too, when you were just starting,” Petra reminisces. “We all fought to have you as our assistant.”

You scoff. “No way, I had no idea what I was doing half the time. At least those three have each other.”

“Well, I guess it did help that you always brought desserts with you every week,” she giggles. “But seriously, we all loved you.”

“I barely even talked to anyone back then, I pretty much only talked to Erwin in the breakroom during lunch because everyone else was busy arguing on the main floor."

“Just goes to show how likeable you are, even if you didn't talk that often.” Petra gets up from her seat to get a refill of her coffee. “And speaking of likeable, I’m sure he likes you.”

You groan. “Can we just forget about that? It’s not worth talking about anymore.”

Petra hums as she pours her coffee, the sound of the splash helping to fill the otherwise quiet room. “It’s true, though. What kind of person would go through all the trouble in the world to pay you back if they didn’t like you?”

The possibility that he would be interested in you hadn’t ever even crossed your mind until this very conversation—you’d only ever thought to consider your own feelings—and thinking about it now makes your stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics.

“I don’t know, someone who’s a good person?”

She turns to raise an eyebrow at you. “Do you not think your other friends are good people? They don’t ever pay you back for anything.”

“That’s because I don’t let them,” you contest.

“Then why do you let him do it?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I started it, though, so maybe he just feels like I expect that from everyone?”

“Oh please, from the way you describe him, he’s not the type of person to just go along with formalities like that. He's definitely doing it for a reason.”

“Are you saying he only does it because he likes me?”

She sighs, coming back to the table with her coffee and sitting in the same spot as before. “Sure, that sounds about right.”

“Well, you’re wrong, because he doesn’t like me, and us paying each other back for everything doesn’t mean anything.”

Even though you know she’s wrong, you also want Petra to be wrong because you don’t want to think that he’s only shown you kindness because he likes you. You most certainly wouldn’t want him to think that way about you—you already spent so long being worried that he took your gestures towards him as anything more than what they were at face value.

Petra sighs. “I know you don’t like talking about your love life, but don’t you think it’s time for you to let yourself fall in love?”

In the middle of you taking a sip of your tea, you choke, needing to reach for a napkin to cover your mouth while you try to regain your breath. Petra immediately scoots her chair closer to yours to make sure you’re okay, but when you wave her off to let her know that you’re fine, she gives you a bit more space.

“Fall in love? I,” you’re at a near loss for words, unable to get your thoughts across. “I don’t think I’ve ever even liked anyone before, and you think I should let myself fall in love?”

She nods. “You aren’t stupid, you need to stop telling yourself that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

…

“I do?”

She shakes her head, though the smile on her face clearly tells you that she’s not telling you “no.”

“You’re overthinking it. Actually, you’re not because you haven’t even thought about it properly, but just have fun. Go on a date with him or something! Spring's almost over, there's gonna be that raspberry festival at the other end of town soon! You should go with him!”

"I thought you said it was boring," you whine. "You went, like, two years ago."

"It was boring because I went on the last day, and all the events were over already!"

You get up and head over to the sink with your teapot and teacup to rinse them clean for another batch for you to drink while you finish your work later.

“How would going on a date even help anything?”

“Were you even listening when me and Mikasa were talking about it?” Petra teases.

“Not really,” you mutter.

“If you go into it thinking that there could be something more, then maybe you’ll come out of it with a new perspective on things,” she advises. “I guess it wouldn’t need to be an actual date, but just… spend time together and let yourself feel things.”

You turn off the faucet and grab a paper towel to dry the surface of the ceramic.

“The whole feelings thing is why I’m a mess in the first place, isn’t it easier to ignore them and let them go away?”

Petra laughs. “Since when have you ever taken the easy way out? And you’ve been avoiding this for months now, you can’t keep running forever.”

You toss the wet paper sheets into the trash bin and move over to pour hot water from the kettle into your pot.

Yeah, you know you can’t keep ignoring it, but can’t you for just a little bit longer?

You don’t know how this stuff is meant to play out—how you’re meant to act, how you’re meant to think, and trying to figure out how to navigate any sort of romantic feelings without that allowance is… also kind of embarrassing.

When you were younger, you had no time to even be interested in dating, and now, it feels like the years where you’re allowed to be awkward in love have long since passed you by already.

It certainly doesn’t help that your entire job practically revolves around broken relationships, and all you have to really go off of for guidance is that and all the other criminally unrealistic depictions of love from everywhere else.

Which, in that case, means you don't want to fall in love.

You don't want to be ripped out out of the comfort you've unconsciously built for yourself while you were busy working to get into university, into law school, into your internship, into your firm. You don’t want to be so caught up in a romance that you forget to take care of your other life responsibilities and your friends. You don’t want your nights baking in the comfort of your home to be replaced with nights out doing things that make you fall even further in disillusioned in love.

And above all else, you don’t want your relationship with Levi to change.

You like spending time with him, and the warm glow you feel whenever you’re with him is probably the only thing even you can’t deny anymore. Maybe you’re selfish in that regard, only choosing to accept the one thing that actually brings you such comfort and peace, but you can be fine with being selfish if it means you can give yourself at least some semblance of a reason as to why you’re feeling so distraught over the situation.

You're pulled away from your thoughts by the feeling of blistering hot water running onto your hand, and you yelp out in pain. "Ow!" You bring your hand away as fast as you can, but you can already see a blotchy red starting to form on the palm of your hand, and it feels like your skin is on fire.

Petra gets up immediately to grab your arm and force it under the sink, where she turns on the faucet and cold water does its best to try and cool the burn.

"Are you okay?" She asks, concern written all over her face.

"Y-yeah, it just kinda hurts."

"Stay here, I'll get the first aid kit from my office."

"Shouldn't the breakroom already have one?"

Petra shakes her head. "I tried looking for one when Oluo forgot his Lactaid, but it's just a plastic box with band-aids in it."

"For as prestigious as this place is, you'd think at least the breakroom was fully stocked, we don't even have tea in here," you joke. "Don't worry, I'll stay here, letting all this water go down the drain."

"Shut up, that's what you're supposed to do for a burn!" Petra scolds before leaving the room.

You turn your wrist underneath the water, trying to get a better look at the burn, but it stings too much for you to take it out from under the running faucet.

Note to self: wait until after your tea is made to think about Levi.

Petra comes back soon enough, and she hands you a painkiller and a bottle of water she stole from the breakroom's fridge. You thank her for them both before taking them, careful not to move your other hand too much.

"What happened? You use that kettle all the time."

"I guess I just wasn't paying attention," you confess. "It's alright, it isn't too bad."

She moves over to get a better look at your hand, and even though the water running over it is too white to make out any details, there's a noticeable red tinge to the skin of your hand.

"It looks pretty bad," she winces. "I'm sure Erwin would let you go home early, and Mikasa can work in my office for the rest of the day."

"I'd rather get the work over with," you tell her. "Besides, I only need one hand to check paperwork, I finished everything else earlier."

She frowns. "I know you hate taking work home, but you seem distracted, just take the rest of the day off. I'll tell Erwin what happened if he asks."

You sigh. You really can't argue with that.

"Fine, I'll leave early, but only after I finish signing stuff that I can't take home."

"It's better than nothing," she concedes. "I have a client coming in a couple minutes so I have to go back to my office soon, but I can wrap up your burn before I go?"

"Do you have the time to do that?"

"Not really, but I don't think you could do it on your own," she says. "It's okay, I'll just tell them that I was in the bathroom or something."

You smile gently. "Alright, thank you."

She reaches over to turn off the faucet, and the feeling of the air on your scalded skin burns just a little bit less than it did earlier. She grabs a bunch of paper towels to gently dab at the wound before bringing you back to the table where she previously set the first-aid kit.

She takes out a small tube of aloe jelly first. "I'm sorry if I pushed the conversation too far."

You shake your head frantically. "No, no, it's not your fault."

"But you were distracted thinking about him, weren't you?"

You nod cautiously. "Yeah…"

She applies some of the jelly onto the red blotch of skin on your hand with a cotton swab, and you wince at the coolness. "I know you're confused, but really, he sounds like a nice guy, I don't think anything bad would happen if you just let yourself be open to liking him."

"Really?"

She giggles before grabbing a roll of gauze from the kit, measuring it out so she can get enough to wrap around your burn. "Yeah." Petra cuts off the end of the strip of gauze and reorients herself to wrap it around your hand. "At least try it out."

You hold out your hand to her, elbow on the table to steady it while she wraps the gauze. "I don't think it'll change anything, but I'll listen to you just this once," you sigh.

She's careful in getting the material on your skin, taking extra caution around the skin that's burnt, and even though it hurts momentarily, the lack of exposure to air helps with the stinging. She rubs gently on the end of the strip, attaching the gauze onto itself.

"I'm sure at least something will change," she says. "But sure, you can believe that if you want."

She gets up to grab your tea set from the counter for you, the water in it now too lukewarm to brew anything, and she asks if you want her to dump it out. You tell her she can go ahead and waste even more water (to which she rolls her eyes before dumping it down the drain), and she carries the tea set back to your office for you so that you don't have to struggle with holding on to the relatively heavy ceramic with your one uninjured hand. You open the door to your office for her, and inside is Mikasa, working quietly on her paperwork.

Petra quickly leaves your tea set on your desk before excusing herself to go tend to her client, and you take your usual seat.

“What happened with Erwin?”

Mikasa just smiles. “You were right."

"I'm right about a lot of things, you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

She shakes her head, smile still on her face. "I got a return offer.”

“What!?”

She nods, moving to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “We all did.”

You let a huge smile break out on your face, and you rush to scooch your chair over to her side of the table to give her a hug. “Holy shit! Congratulations!” In your haste to wrap your arms around her, though, you accidentally hit your hand on the desk. “Ow!”

“What happened to your hand?” She asks concerned, turning in her chair to face you now.

You wince. “I burnt it using the kettle. Petra patched it back up for me.”

She frowns, but maneuvers herself into your arms, still outstretched to her. “Were you distracted thinking about that guy again?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m leaving the office after I finish with what I can’t take home.”

She nods, satisfied enough with your decision. “Did you make any progress after I left?”

“Not really, I just told her I’d try taking her advice.”

“Which was to…?”

“She said to let myself be open to it.”

“And I assume the ‘it’ in question is the idea of liking him?” You nod, and she just sighs. “It’s a start.”

You shrug. “I guess.”

“It’s certainly better than what you had going on before,” she plainly says.

You lean away slightly to deadpan at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She just rolls her eyes. “Nothing.”

You mirror the gesture, but you bring her in closer, trying to ignore the pain in your hand, and you rock her back and forth in your arms, humming contently. “Okay, okay, enough about me! Seriously, I’m so happy you’re staying!”

She laughs airily, and you can practically hear the relief in her voice. “Yeah, me too.”

For the next couple of minutes, she recounts the details of her recent talk with Erwin. She said that Eren and Armin were already in his office when she got there, just about ready to piss their pants, and Erwin droned on-and-on about how great it was to have them as interns for nearly twenty minutes before finally ripping the band-aid off.

They were all allowed the rest of the day off to celebrate, but Armin and Mikasa decided that they should all get their work done for the day before going out and getting absolutely fucking hammered at the happy hour at the bar near their school. Eren still wanted to leave the office, even after losing to the trio’s majority vote, so he’s out in the parking lot, taking a nap in Armin’s car.

You can barely keep the smile off your face, entirely elated with the news that your intern-turned-friends are able to finally get some fucking peace in their career paths.

Conversation shifts when you inevitably have to go back to doing actually work and Mikasa asks you for help understanding one of the cases she’s been tasked with reviewing, and eventually, the both of you just settle into silence and work, only occasionally asking the other for help doing miscellaneous tasks or to ask questions.

You finish up with whatever documents you can't take home at around 2:30, and since you can't do it yourself, you hand your keys to Mikasa so she can take off the office key for herself to lock up the room later. She hands your keys back to you, and you slip them into the front pocket of your briefcase before getting out your bus fare card now so that you won't have to fiddle around later to get it.

"You can work in Petra's office for the rest of the day if you want the company," you remind her.

Mikasa shrugs. "I'll be done soon, I wouldn't want to bother her before if I'll only be in there for a couple more minutes."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind, but I get you," you tell her. "Call me if you need anything, yeah?"

She sighs, turning over to the next page of the packet she's reviewing. "I will, don't worry."

When you get the card, you slip it into your pocket before putting your wallet back in your briefcase and bringing it with you to the door. "Well, I'm off. See you tomorrow, full-timer," you tease.

She just rolls her eyes, albeit smiling all the while, and waves you goodbye. "Bye, boss."

You cringe. "Please don't ever call me that again."

You awkwardly open your door with the same hand you're using to hold your briefcase, and you try your best to ignore the stares of your other coworkers as you make your way over to the elevator.

As you wait for the bus to come, you're reminded of the last Monday where you saw Levi on your ride back home, when he was sick from the rain and he came home with you. If he was coming home late that time, then he might be on this next ride you're about to take.

Sure enough, with your luck, after you scan your card at the front of the bus, you turn around and see Levi at his usual spot.

You try to remember what Petra said—to just let yourself feel whatever you need to, and to have fun. That other shit about being open to liking him can, uh… wait, at least until you can get the rest of those things on lock.

Fuck, well, that's still easier said than done, but you did also say you’d at least try.

Looking at him, just on its own, makes you feel… more relaxed.

Okay, acknowledging that is more than enough of a start, you’re done for the day.

You pocket your card on your way to the back of the bus where you normally sit, and you take your usual seat. Before you can even start to get comfortable, though, you hear Levi speak up.

"What the fuck are you doing here, and why is your hand all bandaged up?"

You try to maneuver your briefcase flat onto your lap, but with one hand entirely out of commission, it takes a while. “I burnt my hand.”

“What the fuck is there to burn your hand on in the first place? You work in a fucking office,” he scolds.

You laugh nervously, tipping your head back. “I wasn’t paying attention while I was pouring water from the kettle into my teapot, and it got on my hand.”

You hear him groan next to you. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes?”

“And I’m guessing that you being here right now means that you’ll just have more paperwork to do once you get home?”

"Don't worry, there's not that much left." You turn to look over at him, and he pinches the bridge of his nose in what seems like frustration.

"For fucks sake," he sighs. "Of course I'm going to worry."

You just narrowly recognize it, but you can feel that warm, fuzzy glow in your chest again.

Trying to take your friends' advice to heart, instead of pushing it down or trying to pass it off as something other than what it is, you try to accept it as it is. You lean over slightly to just barely bump your shoulder against his, and even after you pull away, you still feel it.

If you were to like him, you'd be okay with this being the feeling that defined it. You've been okay with this feeling for a while now, but ascribing it to that circumstance is new.

New, foreign, and somehow still comfortable.

...Okay, yet another good start! Now you've done way more than enough.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "You can come over to do the rest of your work at my place," he says.

If you were to like him, you'd be okay with this too. Fuck, even if you didn't like him, you'd still be okay with this.

"Really?"

He nods. "Yeah," he pauses, looking down at your bandaged hand again. "I can redress your burn for you, too."

You hum, bringing it up closer to look at it. "Is there something wrong with how my friend did it?"

"No, it's just good to redo it often." he says gently. "You'll probably forget if you're working."

You laugh. "Yeah, I guess I would, huh?"

"Is that a yes, then?"

You look over at him and smile, nodding. "Yeah, I think so."

The rest of the ride comes and goes, time seemingly passing by even quicker when the intent is finally there.

You get to Rose in what feels like record time, even with traffic being as regular as it always is, and when you follow him to his car, it feels just as fast.

It isn't until the two of you are sat at his dining table, still clad in your work clothes, that time seems to stand a bit stiller, and it gives you a moment to take in the moment and get settled in. Neither you nor him speak while you work and he does something on his laptop, the space only being filled with the sounds of rustling papers and pens being dragged along the rows of text.

He finishes before you do, so he excuses himself to go and get started on dinner. Of course you're aware of all the noises that come from the kitchen while he's off doing that, but it isn't until at 6:37 when you've finished with your work for the day that you finally let yourself relax.

When Levi gets dinner set out for the both of you, conversation flows as easily as it always does. Difference being that this time, when there's a feeling that strikes you, you try not to dismiss it, instead letting it run its course. When you feel yourself teetering on liking him, you don't immediately tip the scale back to how it was to try and prevent that.

Somehow, it feels easier doing this than it does to push back against the idea of being interested in him.

After Levi's done washing the dishes and it's about time for him to drop you off at home, he tells you to stay put at the table as he goes to grab some first-aid supplies. He comes back with gauze, some ointment, and a pair of scissors.

He's gentle taking Petra's wrapping off of your hand, but it still does hurt when your skin is eventually re-exposed to the air. You can see that skin peels in certain parts across your palm and that others are still swollen, but before you can apologize for the visual of it, Levi's already up and off to bring back a bowl of cold water for you cool your hand again before wrapping it up.

Before he starts even treating you, he asks where it hurts to touch you. You aren't entirely sure, but your best guess is that it hurts everywhere, so he holds his breath as he starts dabbing on some of the ointment where your skin hasn't broken yet. It doesn't hurt too badly, but you still have to hold yourself back from flinching so that he doesn't accidentally put too much pressure on the wrong spots.

When he gets some gauze unraveled, he starts by wrapping it around your thumb, even though it's only your palm that's been burned.

"So that it doesn't hurt as much when you take it off," he tells you. The sentiment brings up a red to your cheeks—not one that's embarrassed or anxious, but one that's just shy and unused to the kindness. You try not to back away from the feeling, sure, but you're glad that he's more focused on your hand than your face in the moment.

He wraps the material around your palm, tugging lightly after each loop to make sure it's snug enough to protect your skin from any potential infection, and then he goes back to wrap the rest around your thumb.

"So that when you remove it, you'll understand how the material attaches onto itself, and you can decide for yourself how you want to unwrap the sections around your palm," he tells you.

He rubs his thumb over yours to seal the wrap, and for that brief moment, you think that if you were to like him, then you'd like small acts like this the most.

Levi eventually sends you home with a smaller spool of gauze and makes you pinky-promise to rewrap the burn at least twice a day, and you don't get to see when his car leaves because he insists on you being inside your building before he even dares to start driving away.

When you go back up to your unit and eventually get ready for bed, you're relieved that you don't feel as antsy for his comfort. For whatever reason, when you feel along the gauze on your wrapped thumb, you realize that even without ever intending to, he left you with a small reminder of his care for you, and you know what?

If you were to like him, then maybe...

Actually, you have no idea, but without the pressure and anxiety of having to figure things out any faster than you need to, that's okay.

✰

By the time Friday rolls around, your hand no longer needs the gauze, your skin healed enough to fare well enough with just plain, regular-sized band-aids over the spots where your skin is still too sensitive to the elements. It still hurts if you put too much pressure on it, but it's bearable enough for you to use as necessary.

When you leave work that day, you feel excited. The rolling sadness of missing Levi in the moments where you weren't together was, by some miracle of the universe, by Friday, already replaced with a gentle lull in your movements that gave you a second to breathe and enjoy the moments where Levi came to mind again. Instead of being upset when something reminded you of him, you felt happy remembering him, content with the knowledge that he occupies spaces of your life where you're comfortable with him being.

When you get on bus 143 at 3:02PM, you're vaguely afraid that Levi will hand you a box of tea.

You're even more scared when he unzips the outer pocket of his backpack, the gentle sway of his bird keychain now more taunting than comforting, but when Levi mimes handing you a box of tea, telling you that it's the "nothing" you asked for last week, you finally let yourself think that falling for him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Not that you will, of course, but... it wouldn't be so bad.

✰

For the first time in months, you're excited to be in the office on a Monday.

Taking off the pressure of expectation in figuring out your feelings has lightened your spirits by what seems like a thousand times over, and if you knew that listening to Petra's advice would get you here, then you would've gone to her sooner.

You wanted to find her to talk at lunch, but Armin informed you that she was off at the courthouse with Eren gathering paperwork. Nevermind that, though, because you still have a fun time talking with the other two nearly-graduated interns about their plans once school's out. It's nothing groundbreaking—they'd both rather sleep in than go anywhere new—but you can't pretend you'd be any different either.

You finish with your work at a decent time, but before you can reach the elevator, you’re stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder. You turn around, careful to not knock back the person behind you, and you’re unsurprised to see Erwin.

“Oh, hey. Need something?”

He nods, now taking his hand away from you. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Looking around the office, there’s a few strays, but for the most part, everyone’s gone home already. "I’m all ears.”

“This might take a while, so I was thinking that we could talk in my office,” he clarifies. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You check the time on your phone: 5:23 PM. You guess it’s not too late. “Not really."

“Great, follow me.”

He leads the two of you back to his office, where you take your seat across from him and his desk. He already had all his things packed up for the day before you came in, but he makes no move to get out his laptop or any papers now that you're here.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" You blurt out awkwardly.

Erwin leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I need you to help me plan two parties."

It isn’t unusual for you to be involved in the party planning—you’re the one who bakes, after all, so naturally you have to be informed about events well in advance. Still, you can’t help but be confused.

"Two parties? I love them, but isn't that a bit excessive just to celebrate the interns getting hired full-time?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "One of the parties is for them, yes, but the other is completely irrelevant to that," he explains.

"Then what's it for?" There's no other birthdays soon, and you would've heard about it if there was something else that was important enough to warrant a party.

Erwin uncrosses his arms and stretches his arms out in front of him, his fingers laced between one another. "I'm getting promoted."

…

"What?"

"Why do you think I've been missing from the office so often?" He jests. "Initially I was just vouching to raise our budget so we would be able to hire all of them full-time, but I figured I might as well weasel my way into another promotion while I'm at it."

Moving up the ladder again just three years after an already early promotion is practically unheard of, but it's Erwin, so you really shouldn't be that surprised, but… yeah.

You let the initial shock pass almost immediately. "Erwin, that's great! Congrats!"

He smiles. "Thank you."

"What position are you moving into?"

"The logistics are being sorted out right now, but I'll be responsible for both our department and finance. Their managing associate got transferred to 5th floor management, so Nile extended the dual position to me."

"Oh yeah, you specialized in financial for grad school, right?"

"Yes, but family intersects with it well enough, so I never minded that I was put here instead," he muses. "But anyway, I was thinking that the party for Eren, Mikasa, and Armin would be on the 8th of June, and mine would be on the 24th."

You tilt your head in confusion. "Isn't the 24th a Saturday? You want people to come into the office on a weekend?"

He nods confidently. "Nile suggested we use the ballroom downstairs since it's available to us on weekends. Said it'd be a nice break for us anyway."

You laugh nervously. "A break… yeah…"

"I must apologize for that again," he consoles. "You definitely do deserve a break."

You groan. "For the millionth time, please stop apologizing, it's not your fault."

He shakes his head. "No, it is actually my fault."

"Huh? What’re you talking about?"

He sighs and avoids eye contact, opting to instead pick up and twirl a pen between his fingers. "I had to prove we needed more members in our department, and someone suggested that we pile a bunch of work onto you so Nile could see that even you couldn't keep up with the workload."

You blink slowly, trying to process the information.

So you've been overworked, run into the fucking ground, chewed up, and spit out… because they thought that getting you to this point of exhaustion would get the department a budget raise?

If that budget raise didn't also entail the interns being able to stay, you probably would've lit up the entire building in flames and cursed out all of management, but fortunately it did entail that, so at least there’s an actual reason as to why this all happened the way it did.

At least you can relax knowing that your friends will be able to stay in the office and that the nonsensical amount of paperwork you've been hammered with for the last 6 months wasn’t all for nothing.

“Does this mean that work will finally go back to normal?”

“If by ‘normal’ you mean like it was last year, then yes, it will.”

“Well, that’s a relief," you sigh. "This is fucking shitty, though. You couldn't even give me a heads up?"

He sadly smiles. “I really am sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to you properly.”

"Do you have any idea how tired I've been for the last half year?" You badger. "Unless you're giving me a trillion dollar bonus, I don't think I'll ever forgive you for this."

Instead of frowning like you expect him to, his sad smile flips into one that's more mischievous.

"Trust me, you'll be happier than if I were to give you that much money."

Man, this guy is fucking weird.

"I seriously doubt it, but if you want to say it like that to make me feel better, sure," you bark back. "Does your stupid promotion mean that you're my actual boss now?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"And is this conversation over?"

"Yes, you're free to go."

After getting your briefcase secured in your hand, you head out to the door, but before you leave, you turn back to face Erwin. "I know I only have one fully-functioning hand right now, but I want to punch you in the face."

"There's still people around on the floor." He sighs, getting up too. "If you close the door, I'll let you do it."

"Really?"

He nods. "Really."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this a trick to get me in trouble with HR?"

"No," he answers earnestly. "I probably deserve it."

"Oh, you definitely do."

✰

On Hange’s way back home from work, they’re in the middle of singing along to their favorite Carrie Underwood song when they get a call from Erwin. They let it go to voicemail, not wanting to stop in the middle of the chorus, but when the man calls another 3 times and continues to interrupt their karaoke session, they groan and press the button on their car’s tablet to accept the call.

“This better be good, I was about to get to the bridge!”

Erwin laughs over the line. “Oh, it is.”

Hange can’t answer over the honks from the other people on the road, all of them apparently mad that they forgot to signal before switching lanes, but after they’re not really safely on the side of the road, they get back to Erwin.

“So, what’s up?”

"Your best friend just punched me in the face."

"Uh, great?" Hange offers. "Is she the new Regina George or something?"

"Hange, no, we talked about this already," Erwin reminds them.

"Nope, not ringing any bells," they say, popping the "P."

The blonde sighs into his phone, and he rubs at his cheek before putting his car keys into the ignition. "She's mad at me."

"And that's good, how?" Hange questions.

"Because," Erwin starts, "that means I have to do a grand gesture to make up for it."

"Erwin, I know I barely ever make any sense when I'm talking, but what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Hange, I'm talking about the thing."

Hange sits up straighter in their seat, and they nearly knock their head on the overhead car sun visor. "The thing? Are you sure?"

"Yes," he says.

"Shit, okay, okay," Hange finally understands, and they take their phone from out of the pocket to open their notes app. "Okay, what day were you thinking? I gotta prepare."

"How's the 21st?"

"Of June?"

"Yes."

Hange quickly switches over to their browser app, but they accidentally open Subway Surfers instead. "Aah, fuck! One second!"

Erwin laughs over the line, and Hange has to frantically click to get rid of the loading animation before finally getting to their search engine. They type 'June 21st' into the prompt box, and they laugh when they realize why Erwin chose that particular day.

"You're a fucking genius! I heard that old geezer complaining about work too, this is perfect!"

Erwin sighs. "I hope it will be."

✰

Next Chapter

[anis-book-club]

the screaming staircase: chapter 2

honestly i think i'm hilarious really love sharing my annotations, so here's what i marked in chapter 2 of the screaming staircase by jonathan stroud.

annotations (usually snarky comments)

"but they do provide something just as vital. they help to keep you sane." (page 15)

obsessed with their relationship to tea, truly.

"but all of us like our tea and biscuits, and that night in the hopes' house was no exception." (page 16)

as you should.

"before that they were down in kent somewhere; she gives a lot of irrelevant detail about how happy they were." (page 18)

lol i love you lockwood

"then he fell downstairs and died." (page 18)

you know, all of a sudden.

"i grunted noncommittally. 'ri-i-ight.'/lockwood flashed me a glance. 'you think she pushed him?'" (page 18)

i think lucy would be into true crime (or maybe i'm just projecting)

"'did i ever tell you about the time i met the notorious harry crisp? sweet-faced man, he was, soft-voiced and twinkly-eyed. good company and very plausible; he actually got me to lend him a tenner. yet it turned out in the end that he was the most appalling murderer who liked nothing better than to—'" (page 19)

wait, i wanna know!!!

"'yeah, maybe. so the disturbances began soon after his death?'" (page 19)

i can only ever hear ruby stokes saying this in like, episode 7 when her accent comes out really strong.

"'lucy, look!' lockwood's voice hissed. 'there's mr hope!'/my heart jolted. i spun around, rapier half drawn...only to find lockwood stooped and casual, peering at a photo on a side-table." (page 22)

he does have a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he? god forbid he clarify that it's a photo.

"it opened into a large back bedroom, which had been converted into possibly the messiest study in london." (page 25)

vibes me in 10 years

"the desk was almost invisible under stacks of papers, and further teetering piles were placed, higgledy-piggledy, all across the room." (page 26)

i'm sorry, w h a t

"a row of dark bookshelves, chaotically filled, ran down three quarters of the far side-wall." (page 26)

mmm perfect

"i tasted aftershave, whiskey, even tobacco." (page 26)

where's that tumblr post about if taste was a talent?

"george took them out to oil them and i didn't check he'd put them back. so it's george's fault, really." (page 27)

clearly /s

"we don't need [the chains] for a job like this, do we?" (page 27)

y e s, you definitely do.

tabs

lucy

"i do a bit of drawing..." (page 16) additional annotation: i love that for us

lockwood

"...lockwood himself reads the gossip magazines." (page 16) additional annotation: he w o u l d

george

"...george has his comics..." (page 16) additional annotation: explains wardrobe choices

funny

"lockwood tossed the folder aside. 'well, that was useful.'/'really?'/'no. i'm being ironic. or is it sarcastic? i can never remember.'/'irony's cleverer, so you're probably being sarcastic.'" (page 17)

"'well, i've got [george's] notes with me, if you want to hear them.'/'go on, then.' lockwood sat back expectantly. 'what's she been seeing?'/...i scanned [the notes] briefly, cleared my throat. 'are you ready?'/'yes.'/'"a moving shape".' with great ceremony, i refolded the papers and put them away." (page 19–20) additional annotation: incredible. peak comedy. honestly that's so funny. very descriptive and in-depth of her /s

"'i forgot to bring the chains. don't stare at me like that. you do weird things with your eyes.'" (page 27) additional annotation: that's sure to win her over, lockwood

"'well, don't get into trouble,' i said. 'last time you went wandering off during a case, you got yourself locked in the toilet.'/'a ghost shut me in, i keep telling you.'/'so you claim, but there was not a shred of evidence that—'" (page 27)

worldbuilding

"but tea bags, brown and fresh and plenty of them, and made (for preference) by pitkin brothers of bond street, are perhaps the simplest and best of all." (page 15) additional annotation: is this a real brand? update: no :(

"by its light we took off our rapiers and work-belts and laid them out before us. our belts have seven separate clips and pouches, and we went through these in silence, systematically checking the contents while the kettle wheezed and huffed away." (page 16)

"'kent's had one of the biggest outbreaks of anywhere outside london according to george.'/i sipped my tea. 'it's where the problem began, i thought.'/'so they say.'" (page 18)

"'husbands don't normally haunt wives, except when there's reasons.'" (page 18–19)

"'oh. well, the point is, mr hope could be coming back for a host of other reasons that aren't to do with vengeance. something left undone, for instance: a will he hasn't told his wife about, or some stash of money, hidden under the bed...'" (page 19) additional annotation: so there are lots of reasons why spirits may come back as manifestations hmmmmm

"its a good rule to keep a well-lit place to retreat to if the need arises, and having different forms of light is always advisable, in case the visitor has the ability to disrupt them." (page 21)

"i nodded dubiously. 'got to be a reason for at type two, though. george says type two always means someone's done something to somebody.'" (page 23)

"a piece of embroidery in a heavy frame: faded colours, childish letters, home sweet home. done years ago, when homes were sweet and safe, and no one hung iron charms above their children's beds." (page 24)

"'are you sure? it's not even nine o'clock, and its power's already strong.'" (page 27)

highlights (usually words, phrases, and lines that i found really beautiful for some reason or another)

"glimmered darkly" (page 17)