#and now that i wanna do the only thing where i can possibly earn some money its like nope!

[fallingformatt]

“IM NOT THAT SCARY AFTER ALL” C.S.

dealer Chris x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you go to the beach with your dealer in the middle of the night?

warnings: smut! 18+ unprotected sex, mentions weed

word count: 1.9k

a/n: heyy everyone my name is lily and this is my first fic, please don’t be hard on me. Leave suggestions or requests! Hope you enjoy

➽───────────────❥

I kept tossing and turning in my bed, I couldn't fall asleep for the life of me it was so hot in my room that even only wearing my oversized t-shirt that barely covers my ass and a thong I was still too hot to fall asleep. I picked up my phone to check the time. "Fuck" I said under my breath as the phone screen read 2:37 AM "Well there is only one thing that can help me," I said to myself as I swiftly hopped out of my bed, rushing to my vanity. I pulled out my pink 'makeup bag' which really wasn't a makeup bag but a special bag that holds weed for when I want to smoke and that's the beauty of it, my parents would never think to look in my makeup bag that is placed on my vanity, hiding in plain sight.

I pull on the zipper revealing the contents of the bag: some papers a lighter and a small tin container "Bingo" I say to myself getting excited to smoke. I opened the container and was left shocked. It was empty not even a little left for me to smoke. I sighed as I knew what my two options were. Option one go back to bed and try to fall asleep in this hell-like heat or option two message my dealer who I'm scared of. I try to see him as rarely as possible. Chris is so hot but also hella scary and always seems cold and distant so I always kept it short and always buy enough to last me at least a month. I weighed out my options and decided that there was no way that I was falling asleep without smoking so I grabbed my phone.

"hey r u still up?" I texted him and waited for an answer hoping he was still up so I could get my weed.

"yeah i'm still up, need something ma?" he answered. He always called me ma or princess which I found weird but never dared to say anything about it.

"can I buy my usual? im all out" I text right back happy that he's still awake

"sure ma gonna be there in five" he answers

I quickly go out of my room and check if my parents are asleep. I go down the stairs and quickly sneak out of the backdoor as I usually do since it's the furthest from my parents room and they wouldn't hear the door opening or closing. I go around my house and he's already at my front door waiting in his car. I quickly get in the car. "hey ma I like what ur wearing" he says smirking. I look down and realize I forgot to put on shorts or pants and now I'm sitting in his car bare ass on the seat as my shirt raised up a bit while sitting down. "well I rushed outside and it's really hot outside" I said quietly. "Do you have my weed?" I continued right after. "Of course I do ma, here," he said and pushed a baggie with weed in my hand. My eyes lit up seeing my goods and a smile creeps on my face as I reach out my hand with cash "Damn, you're so excited over some weed. You know it's not good to do drugs right?" he says in a cold tone taking my money. "Well, this weed is the only way I'm falling asleep in this weather. Besides you should want people to buy weed it's how you earn your money" I say back. "Do you wanna go somewhere cooler?" Chris asks. " Well I don't know, my parents are asleep" I answer. "Exactly they won't even know you left the house," he says smirking again. "You've got a point, sure let's go," I say.

This interaction was a bit different than all other ones. He didn't seem as cold as usual but maybe I'm just imagining things.

We have been driving for at least 10 minutes now and I'm sitting on my side both my legs horizontally on the car seat as I look through the window listening to the music that's quietly playing in the car. "Where are we going? You never told me" I ask as I turn my head. I saw Chris looking at my ass as it was fully visible in the position I'm sitting in. "We're almost there" his eyes quickly shot to the road as he answered. "Were you looking at my ass?" I say changing my sitting position. "Well ur the one who's not wearing any pants" he scoffs coldly. "I didn't know we would go somewhere" I quickly answer. "We're here," Chris says and I look outside the window. We are at the beach, the moon is shining and the waves look so calming. We both get out of the car and head to the shore.

We find a good spot and sit down. We are the only ones here no people in sight, just me and him. Well if I think about it he could kill me and no one would ever know, the thought of that made me uneasy. "You good ma?" he asks "Yeah I'm fine" I answer looking at the pretty waves as the warm breeze hits my skin. "This feels so nice," I say quietly. "It does, do you want to smoke?" he asks holding a joint that he had just rolled in between his fingers "You bet I do" I answer and he puts the joint in between my lips and lights it. I take a puff and let the smoke out. We finish the joint and sit for a bit.

I look at Chris and notice his beautiful features in the moonlight, my gaze moving from his hair to his lips, as my eyes travel down further my eyes fall to his crotch and I feel my panties dampen. He turns his head looking at me and his clear blue eyes with a hint of red surrounding them meet mine. "what's up ma?" he asks not breaking the eye contact. "You know, you're not as scary as I thought," I say looking down at my fingers and playing with the sand beneath me. "Why do you think I'm scary, do you think I'm going to kill you or something" he shoots back a question. "That thought did cross my mind if I'm being honest. You're always so cold towards me" I say and he chuckles at my confession. "I would never kill such a pretty lady. I always love seeing you ma" he says and a smile appears on my face.

"You wanna go for a swim?" he asks "I don't have a swimsuit" I answer "Neither do I, let's go anyway, cmon ma don't be shy," Chris says looking at me shooting me a quick smirk before standing up and pulling down his shorts and his shirt running towards the waves. I get up and pull off my t-shirt throwing it into the sand and covering my bare chest with my hands as I have no bra on.

I start running towards the ocean as well, seeing Chris already in the water fully swimming. I swim to him and he looks at me staring me down, till he glances at my boobs and licks his lips. "Kiss me," he demands with a lustful voice. He takes my hand and pulls me closer until our bodies meet pushing his lips onto mine unexpectedly. His tongue exploring my mouth before breaking the kiss. He moves to kissing my neck sucking on it leaving a mark. I tilt my head back and let out a quiet moan as he hits my sweet spot. "Oh you like that don't you ma," he says and moves to kiss my collarbones leaving a trail of kisses till he gets to my breasts nibbling on my nipple. "Oh fuck" I moan. "Tell me what you want, and I'm gonna give it to you princess," Chris says in a deep voice. "I want you" I manage to say. He grabs my hand and starts running towards the shore as I'm following him. We get to the shore where our clothes are.

I lay down and he crawls in between my legs his chain dangling above my face his eyes full of lust staring at my lips before smashing his lips on mine once again as we share a passionate kiss. He pulls down my thong not breaking the kiss, doing the same for his boxers. As we deepen the kiss his fingers move up and down my heat before slamming them into me. I throw my head back as a loud moan leaves my lips. "Oh fuuck Chris" I moan out loud as he continues to thrust his fingers into me at a rapid pace. "Tell me what you want," Chris says as his voice grows deep "I-I nee-" I try to say but can't finish the sentence. Chris suddenly pulls his fingers out of me and my eyes shoot open in frustration "Full sentences princess. Tell me what you want" he says his eyes darkening with arousal "I need- I need you in me Chris" I manage to squeeze out as my hips buck up yarning for him. His thumb presses against my lips before I open my mouth sucking on it. Without any warning, he pushes deeply into me causing me to let out a scream-like moan, tears forming in my eyes. Without letting me adjust he starts pounding into me his tip kissing my g-spot "Oh my god Chris you're so big" I moan as I throw my head back. He pounds deeply into me keeping the same rhythm hitting my g-spot with every thrust "Look at me" he says but I keep my eyes shut. "I said look at me princess," his voice getting deeper than before as he grabbed my jaw, and our eyes met. "Look at you, taking me so good princess," he says as he pushes his lips on mine my hand travels to his wet hair lightly pulling it and he places his hand on my thigh, our bodies sticking to each other like glue.

He continues to thrust deep and hard as my moans slip against his lips, my hands traveling to his back. He breaks the kiss and throws his head back, rolling his eyes and letting out an animalistic growl I feel my climax coming. "I- I- I'm close don't stop please don't stop Chris" I cry out as I arch my back, digging my nails into his back leaving scratch marks, bucking up my hips to feel him even deeper. Chris lets out a moan as his thrusts become more aggressive and faster. I dig my nails into the sand holding on to anything I can "I'm so close I'm gonna cum" I moan out as I feel my walls tightening around his cock. Chris hearing that thrusts in me harder than ever making me almost scream out in pleasure. His breathing became hitched as he trusted a few more times before cumming letting out a loud moan, leading to the knot in my stomach to unravel, I let out a pornographic-like moan as my orgasm took over me.

As we both came down from our highs, he pulled his dick out of me kissing me before laying in the sand next to me. He turned his head to look at me and said "Come here ma" and pulled me closer as I laid my head on his chest. We watched as the sun started to come up "See I'm not so scary after all" Chris said with a chuckle. "We should do this again" he continued and I nodded my head in agreement. "Common let's get you home," he said and we got dressed heading for his car.

[weebsinstash]

Hi I’ve been watching Hazbin Hotel and I found your blog which is amazing by the way , and I was wondering what are your thoughts on yandere Alastor ?

Thanks babe! ^^ so i was discussing this with someone recently and, to avoid doing that thing where I have too any concepts on the same post, I'm going to stick with a specific idea I've had of him recently which I will call "canon accurate yandere Alastor"

imma be honest and say this version would fucking suck depending on your preferences because he

-doesn't love you romantically and doesn't let YOU date

-doesn't wanna fuck you either AND DOESN'T LET YOU FUCK ANYONE ELSE EITHER

-probably does not consider you an equal by any means, like he considers you a good friend and you're charming and lovely and whatever, but he sees you like.... you'd be puking into a trashcan and he's the one holding your hair back, "now see my dear, this is why you shouldn't go out drinking without a proper escort~" like there's a vague layer of condescension and there's a huge massive power balance and experience balance between you two

Like. He's. He's kind of condescendingly cunty to you, he's vaguely looking at you with the energy of "MacKenzie oh my gosh MacKenzie you're so drunk, you're wasted, oh my god let me drive you home, no girl I'm taking your keys, you're too--" like do you get what I mean? He's a traditional gentleman and he comes along and uh, he thinks he sees this raw potential and charm inside of you that he thinks is being wasted by your modern lifestyle which can literally include

- your diet

-your tech use or what you use from day to day

- how you dress

-how you TALK

-how you spend your time

-who you hang out with

Just picture he meets you, you catch his eye, maybe you're at the hotel, and he's entertained by your sarcastic witty replies to his antics that maybe even get a chuckle out of him. You're a spitfire and he likes that!

.... and then the next time he sees you you're like vaping weed from a pen, looking at him with half lidded eyes, playing a game on your phone, too scattered to fully hold a conversation with him, to focus, to be as entertaining to him as before, and he's grinding the teeth in his smile, "oh no, this won't do at all", especially when he sees negative affects such maybe you're watching things he doesn't approve of or you're being harassed idk

I feel like since Alastor canonically drinks and is quite a heavyweight apparently, he wouldn't mind his darling drinking, but he would definitely control how much after a while. If you get too wasted in front of him too many times, he'll completely cut you off. Folks are you aware that getting too drunk can cause an alcohol induced panic attack that can literally take away your ability to move your hands and arms and make your mouth numb. I found this out recently :) whoops. And I feel like Alastor sees that shit and you'd have to EARN HIS TRUST for him to let you drink again and uh, I don't think that's possible

You're kind of like a bestie but you're also like a toy he's playing with and he doesn't like to share. He'll drag you away from doing other things with other people, especially if he doesn't approve of what you're doing and or with whom. He basically views you dating other people as lowering yourself to people who are beneath you and would only want you to give yourself to someone who deserves you, and he doesn't think ANYONE deserves you except him, and he DOESNT LIKE YOU THAT WAY so the man is just like FORCING CELIBACY ON YOU. Like have you ever seen videos of people taking their domesticated lovely groomed pets outdoors and like a stray or even wild animal version of it comes along to. Hump. And the owner is freaking out, "get the fuck AWAY I don't know where you've been" or at least Should? THAT'S Alastor watching 'other people trying to predate upon you' aka YOU trying to get laid or date

You'll be cooking something and he'll come up and try some without asking, "Hah! This is terrible!" and either watch you so he can tell you what he thinks you did wrong once the dish is finished or he takes over and asserts that he wants to show you to do it "the proper way!" and if you're female he potentially inserts a comment about how as a lovely lady you should know your way around a kitchen (in like a positive "I'll show you so you can know for yourself" way but like the underlying misogyny is there lol)

He'll take you out drinking and dancing but don't you dare let him catch you throwing it back or being mildly sexual, or he'll immediately tell you you've had too much to drink and take you home and you two spend the rest of the night like drinking tea listening to the radio, reading books, or watching old timey TV.

Lastly... I can absolutely see Alastor making some kind of deal with his darling for their soul. He CAN do that (and I think technically anyone in Hell can deal with souls, it's apparently part of the becoming an Overlord process). But I can just see him taking his darling's soul in exchange for anything, it might be really small, it might be really important, but he sees it as safeguarding your beautiful lovely little soul from anyone else who might take it. It truly is like THE HIGHEST FORM OF OWNING YOU, CONTROLLING YOU. It's all according to whatever is in the deal, but I'm sure there's other basic caveats you get... like him being able to summon you at will if you agree to it so he's randomly yanking you away from other people or tracking you when he doesn't know when you are.... or restraining you so you stop running away from him and running out on the town to act so... vulgar

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Callouses on his gentle hands was absolutely adorable! It kept making me thing of a continuation of the sorts where some years pass and the reader actually enlisted in the military earning the code name Bird too without Price having any knowledge. Only to show up when he's a captain maybe even to be part of 141 or something important.

Idk if this is a possible request as I don't want to bother you but it would be amazing if there was some well timed banter and just generally happy.

Again your writing is so good it leaves me speechless I love it so much! 👁️〰️👁️

Calluses and Milky Scars

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It's been years since you've seen or heard from John and yet you still can't get him out of your head. But can a chance meeting rekindle old emotions? (18+)

Word Count: 16.1k

Warnings: Angst, typical violence & gore, talks of human trafficking, vulgar language, eventual fluff, banter, smut, honestly I think I wrote switch!Price without even realizing it, p in v sex, fingering, teasing, breeding kink, etc.

A/N: Imma be honest I hate the first part of this duology - it was one of my earlier works - so I made this as standalone as possible. So if you don't wanna read the first part (please don't) you can still understand this one just fine by itself. (this is also an excuse for more smut practice). Anyway, enjoy! Part 1

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

They only saw the glint of a blade, the metal reflecting the light of a mist-filled night back into the whites of their eyes. You could see the result of your form in their terror-stricken visages as, one after one, they succumbed to the ministrations of your unyielding determination. 

You had forgotten when the act of taking a life had become so easy for you. It was as natural as breathing, now. Elementary. Your fingers could pull a trigger just as fast as they would raise for a handshake or a wave. There was little need to be shy about it – your days as a victim were far behind you, and ‘Bird’ was nothing more than a callsign uttered under hushed breaths. Said behind back alleys by Human Traffickers with fear-slick eyes. 

It was no longer uttered in a deep British accent, the word making your skin tingle and cheeks heat. No matter how much you longed for it to be.

You were a Captain in the military now. Working hand-in-hand with the CIA under the direction of a certain Kate Laswell. You even commanded your own Squad that specializes in getting others out of the very situation you had been in years ago with no mercy or hesitation. 

Revenge, you decided, was most likely why this was easy for you. 

You enjoyed it. 

“Perimeter clear, Captain,” Wren speaks into your earpiece as you step over the bodies at your feet, boots splashing through puddles of blood so starkly contrasting the grass it makes you smirk.

“Move up.” A balaclava covers your face, and sweat dribbles down your brow before you blink it out of your eye. 

Around your chest, the M4A1 sits with its familiar weight, and you wipe the life-fluid from your crude combat knife before sheathing it at your thigh. You had taken out three stragglers at the South End of the current Targets territory, your blood singing sweetly in your veins at the prospect of finally crossing another name off your list. 

“Eagle,” Your voice bounces off trees and low shrubs, and you continue forward as your fingers press the button on the old-issue radio. There were better versions nowadays, and you got teased for still using the ancient one you have currently strapped to your chest, but it was sentimental to you. An old friend had given it to you for safekeeping a long time ago…How many years now was it since you had seen or heard from John Price? Ten? Fifteen? Who could really tell, anyhow? Time moved quickly, and you ran through it even quicker. 

Your sharp eyes flick out over the view as you exit the brush, standing on the top of a large ridge – a series of warehouses lit up with large spotlights below your perch makes you frown. 

“Let’s get this started then, shall we?” You mutter, shifting your feet and rolling your shoulders. “Blackout in 3.” 

“Roger that, Ma’am.” 

You watch the guards walking like obsidian ants below, your predatory gaze missing nothing – you spot the mannerisms fairly quickly; who limps, who favors their left over their right. Who’s sleeping on the job. A first victim was almost immediately chosen as you tilt your head and feel the chilled breeze on your visible skin. Your Unit knows the procedures you’ve ingrained into them and they’re watching just as closely and predatory as you are. 

All four, including you, are stationed in a circle around the area, with Eagle, the man with the sniper rifle, taking point far off into the trees on a higher portion of the topography. Three seconds of prep time come and go quickly. And so do the lights.

A series of muffled pops and a shattering of glass break the night into chaos, and then the illumination goes out entirely. The area is plunged into an inky darkness of your own command – you revel in it. And then the screams begin. 

“Take ‘em.” You mutter through the open channel, and your feet then propel you forward, dodging trees and jumping downed branches as you skid down the slope. Your heart beats with adrenaline, the hunt making your nerves twitch. 

In your grip, you ready your weapon, flicking off the safety as shots begin to ring out over the land. Eagle was taking off the ones he could, but if you had to guess, Shrike was already in the fray, letting her face get bloody from the close quarters she favored. You only hoped the woman wouldn’t go overboard this time. Thrush was usually the one to help keep her head on, but the man was across the territory with his own hostiles to wipe the board of. 

You fire at the first shadow with a light finger, watching it drop and pivoting to pull the trigger at two more before they knew what was happening – too panicked by the sudden assault seemingly out of nowhere.

“Shrike,” Your voice wafts over the buzzing line, “mind yourself. I don’t need you put on Suspended Leave again.”

“Don’t worry, Ma’am,” Thrush’s light voice meets your ears as you take cover behind a vehicle directly in front of one of the warehouses, “I’m making my way to her now.”

“Ah, Fuck off, Thrush!” Shrike growls, and there’s a distinct sound of someone’s gurgling last breath in the background. It makes you let out a huff of demented laughter. “I know the limits!” 

“I don’t think she knows the limits, Ma’am,” Eagle grunts over the call, and a shot sizzles past your head and takes out a charging man that was making his way to your hunched and hidden form. “I really don’t.”

Rushing forward out of your cover, you chuckle breathlessly as Wren’s dignified voice pipes in.

“I’m making my way to the main building and getting set to download the data. Target’s nowhere to be seen, Captain.” Your lips thin under the fabric and you grunt, feeling a bullet graze your bicep. Ducking in an instant, you set your feet and fire, running past before the sound of the body slamming to the ground behind you can reach your ears. A burning heat enters your arm, but you barely acknowledge it. 

“Eagle, cover her until I get there.”

“Affirm.” 

“Shrike, Thrush, report. How’s the other warehouse lookin'?” Your body skids across the ground, and your hand connects with the warehouse you needed to clear before making your way to Wren and the Mainframe. 

Half of the Op was data retrieval, and the other was taking out a human trafficker only named in his file as Buck – bastard’s been running for a long time, and you needed to leave him a bloody mess before he kept his ‘business’ going. Laswell only sent in your Squad because she knew you could get it done with an efficiency no one else could. Nearly a perfect success rate got the attention of people worldwide; your waiting list was long of the places the CIA wanted to send you and your team. 

But you didn’t care, as long as your own list was getting checked off they could fly your ass to Antarctica for all it mattered. 

“Our warehouse is cleared out. Must not have expected us…they were running around with their heads chopped off.”

Shrike snickers. “Just like chickens.”

“Good. Join up with Wren and make sure she can get the download completed. Copy?” You grasp the large metal handle and growl, locking your arms and pushing with all of your strength. The weight makes your thighs shake, but you only open it enough for you to slip inside, gun at the ready as breaths puff from your mouth.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Boots shuffle over the concrete floor, and your ears twitch in the quiet darkness at the crunch of stray gravel underfoot. Your finger shifts slowly to the trigger, glaring into the nothingness. 

It was silent. 

You heard it then, like a spike to the heart – the panicked breathing; the sounds of shaking lungs and grasping hands. Sounds all so familiar it made you pause, mind for an instant blanking at the implications. 

There were people here. Drowning in fear.

You could see them in the corners, scores of bodies piled on top of one another to find some semblance of comfort. Their eyes wink in the moonlight of a single window in the roof, and the stench nearly makes you want to gag. Blinking, you lower your gun, feet shifting to stand straight like a statue; heart racing. These people weren’t supposed to be here, and already vicious comparisons to your own rescue by a certain man a long time ago invade your mind. Calluses seem to burn your hands under your gloves, and a gentle imaginary prod at an injury on your forehead makes the milky scar ache. 

He readies the wipe in one of his hands, the other coming up to your jaw. When you tense he freezes, but as soon as the hesitance leaks away from you like a wave, the slow motion returns to his limbs; his fingers come to grab at your chin, gently holding your head in place. When you place more weight into his hold and release a deep-chested sigh of content he quirks a dark eyebrow.

“This might sting, Doll,” John whispers.

“That’s alright,” You mutter back, staring into his beautiful eyes as the wipe comes into view in the side of your vision. “Not your fault.”

He only releases a puff of air from his lips before adding the smallest amount of pressure to your forehead, running the wipe over the red and swollen flesh. 

Taking a deep breath one of your hands goes to your radio stiffly. Eagle needed to know about this so he could send a message to Laswell – get an immediate Medical Evac for these people. 

In your hyper-focussed state, memories you wished would stay away rear their head; infect your intuition and common sense. You missed the click of the safety until the barrel of the pistol was level with the back of your head. Freezing, your fingers tense over the device, your body going rigid and muscles tight as the people in the corners gasp and cry out into the night. 

A panting man stands behind you and you feel his hands shaking as the barrel digs into the balaclava’s fabric.

Well, that’s unexpected.  

“Show me your hands,” He breathes heavily, and you feel his puff of air echo out over the open space. Tinged with fear. Dripping with adrenaline. 

Your lips pull back into a steady, hidden, smirk, head tilting as your hands slowly drift from your radio and let your weapon hang from its strap around your chest; feeling it bounce off the various packs and supplies you carry with pride. They splay beside your head, fingers lazily loose and leather gloves squealing into the night. 

Selene herself holds her silver breath, the winds sucked down into Hades as Cerberus breaks sinner’s bones with his savage jaws and blood-slick teeth. It was silent. 

Born and bred to violence, there truly wasn’t a better place for you to be than in the CIA. This was Hell, but you could play that black-clad ruler’s game just the same. You’d been dodging him for years.

“T-toss your gun to the floor.”

“You know that won’t matter.” You look behind you, side-eyeing that shaking would-be threat. Phobos lives in his very being. Coward. Pathetic. Red-hot anger lights your nerves, iris narrowing to black slits. This thing – he was little more than an entitled boy in a man’s body. Using others for his gain just like others had used you. This was your Target. 

This was Buck. 

“So this is the one who made an empire on the suffering of innocents.” You mumble, unafraid and unbothered with a scoff. “I really expected more than a man who plays with his food.”

Yes, the adrenaline was running in your veins; you were human. It was natural. But the way the wailing birds rampaged in your chest wasn’t – you should be afraid, not angry. Not enraged to the point you were shaking; fingers twitching for your knife. For spilled blood to coat the earth.

Phobos was this man’s ruler, but that Fear God’s father was Ares. And Ares was yours.

“I…I said drop your fucking weapon you bitch–!”

Your opposite hand knocks Buck’s wrist to the side and your body twists. In a single fraction of a second between the loud misfire that hits the floor and the ringing in your ears, the knife at your thigh finds purchase in his pliable neck. Crimson sprays over your eyes; staining the balaclava as your body falls to the ground as you jam the blade deeper – all the way to the crossguard. 

Buck grumbles wetly from under you, hands coming to weakly grasp at your arms and attempt to pry your unyielding body from him. His grip is as strong as a child’s, and as blood spurts from his mouth and entry wound, you slap your free hand over his face and twist the knife. Strangling the hilt in your grasp, you viciously jerk your limb, sending the edge sliding over his neck; cutting tendons and arteries. Creating a red-lipped smile from ear to ear that explodes with gore. 

Buck was already dead before the puddle over the ground grew an inch in diameter. 

Ripping your weapon out, you shove your boot into his chest and push off, stumbling to your feet as you stare down wide-eyed. Your digits shake, but the flickering of your gaze goes from the dead eyes to the open mouth of the corpse. Flicking your wrist, you splatter more blood on the floor to rid some of it from your blade before sheathing it. 

Gripping your radio, you speak clearly into the line. 

“Eagle this is the Captain – get in contact with Laswell immediately. Civvies in the far South warehouse. Ask for Medical Evac.” 

Say to bring only women, you want to growl but refrain. That was impossible to manage.

You stare at them now, the innocents, and see your own path reflected in the many colors and the feral glints in their irises. In the way their bodies huddle like cats with their backs flared. If life had been different, would you still be in a situation like this – waiting for your own John Price to break you out? It was a difficult question. Far more challenging to answer than why the body behind you was staining the concrete with blood and tears. 

…What would have happened if he had never kneeled down before you that day? Offered you his hand stained with calluses and gunpowder residue? 

You blink at the thin bodies, gaze flowing to each and every one in turn. With a slow motion you begin forward, hands at your sides and visible; you draw the memory to you. The one you think of often.

You had stayed there in fear, curled up in the corner, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Until John.

“Ma’am,” He had said, kneeling on one leg while his hands clutched his M16 to his chest, the muzzle still smoking, “I’m Lieutenant John Price in Command of Unit Bravo. You’re safe now.” 

Unit Bravo? Safe? You had wondered, looking up at the man with confusion. How can I be safe?

Nonetheless, when he offered you a hand, you had taken it, looking in awe at how gently he gripped your limb in his own; John’s limb completely swallowed yours and yet held you like delicate glass. 

You stopped before a woman far too young to be in a situation like this and kneeled. She watched you with a shaking body, the others curling away in fear. They didn’t know you, and so they feared you. Taking a breath, your hand raises, and the woman’s eyes are laser-focused on your form. 

I should make myself smaller, you think. And so you do. 

The fabric is sweat-heavy; laden with dirt and other substances, but you grasp it without hesitation and peel it off of you. It sits in your hand with the weight of the past in the thick polyester threads. Swallowing down saliva at the breeze that hits your face, you watch the lady blink at you, her gaze filled with confusion. 

An easy smile comes to your face; if they hadn't just seen you murder a man, they would not believe you to be the same person. Yours was not the face of a killer – of someone who twists the knife deep and revels in death. It was soft beside the scar above your eyebrow, easy to look at. Innocent.

A simple Bird, no. A vulture perhaps suited you better, if they were to get into specifics.

You clear your throat and they all flinch. 

“Ma’am,” Your voice carries. Again, not the voice of a monster. But even Ares marries a beauty. Could you not be a spawn of them? Beautiful and utterly bloodied by the rules of war? Oh, yes, that’s what you were, you had to be. Nothing else would make any sense. But they gravitate to you nonetheless – war and love often go hand in hand. Especially when one killed the ruler of their torment. “I’m the Captain of Raptor Squad. You can call me Bird, if you want. It’s alright. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you some help, okay? You’re safe now.”

The woman can’t help but nod sheepishly. 

Who says no to an offspring of Gods themselves?

—

The helicopter ride back was silent, with everyone tired and covered in more blood, dirt, and sweat than they can recall. Buck’s body was stuffed into a black bag and sitting in the walkway at your feet – you needed it for positive identification back on Base. You had shuffled back into the balaclava, taking comfort in the security and anonymity it lent. Below, your eyes watch the word whizz past, one foot limply hanging off the side thousands of feet above the ground; you swish it back and forth like a child and allow yourself to think. 

You had joined the military only a few years after John had rescued you – much against the wishes of your therapist, but seeing as you were of sound mind, it wasn’t that difficult to enlist. The brown-haired Brit had sent you letters for the first three months after you had left the Base you had been recovering at and then, inexplicably, they had stopped. No letters, no contact. The radio – along with you – was too far away to get a signal; that was how it ended.

Not with a kiss or a soldier’s goodbye, just nothing. Silence.

But you never held it against him. Perhaps, you reasoned and partially believed, he was already dead. At the end of the day, he had been a great motivator for you, and over the years your fists and skills had propelled you to top ranks. Laswell had been in contact soon after you had been promoted to Lieutenant and Raptor Squad had been formed when you had chosen the most violent and perfect bastards to join it. 

From there it was win after win and the CIA soon counted this team as one of the most lethal in its roster. You’ve been all over the world. 

More than I could imagine I would become in a concrete corner and locked in a cage. 

Your eyes watched the expanse of forest outside, but there was still something missing. Why had John just…stopped? It was the one question you could never answer. 

Did I really not matter to him at all? Around your vest, your fingers twitch as the helicopter bounces on airwaves. Blue eyes still haunted you – the ones that held silver starlight hostage. How they used to soften with care when they looked down at you. John shouldn’t have mattered this much to you. 

Why can’t I just let go of him?

You bite at your hidden lip with sharp teeth, peeling back the skin as Wren shifts in her seat beside you. She speaks into the comms to avoid yelling over the drowning sound of helo blades and you lock your eyes on her form.

“You might want to look at the info I retrieved from the Target’s mainframe, Captain. Didn’t Laswell mention she had a separate Task Force going after someone named Casilda Kalpana? She’s mentioned in this file.” Wren hands you her tablet, and you hold it in one of your hands as your hard eyes slim down the screen, taking in compiled sources. 

Casilida Kalpana was on your list of Targets to take care of, but Laswell had given the job to another Task Force – designated TF-141 – for the small difference that this woman had ties to multiple terror organizations. Raptor Squad was no stranger to that, but Kate had also stated that the Captain of that group had been incredibly instant on taking it himself. 

Your head tilts in memory.

“Kate, I’m not understanding why you think we can’t handle it.” You huff, shaking your head with an exasperated expression. “It’s no different than anything we’ve done before.”

“I have no problem with you participating, but the Captain pulled in a favor. Said he ‘felt obligated’ or something like that.” You pull a face, and Laswell glares at you from behind her desk. “Bird, I really don’t have the time to argue today – I’m stuck with stacks of papers because Keller decided to get himself lost again.” 

“I’m not trying to argue, Kate.” Holding up your hands you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The only thing that matters is that the Target ends up six feet under at the end of the day. You know what it means to me.”

The Agent looks up from her papers and pauses for a moment, a pen placed between her digits, and her eyes soften around the gray edges. 

“I can personally assure you, Captain, that this Task Force will see it done…Now hurry up and get ready for your own mission – I hear South America is warmer than usual this time of year. Pack a cold drink.”

The words in the file make your stomach churn; leading to your eyes widening. You flip the tablet back to Wren and radio Eagle who’s blankly watching Shrike and Thrush play rock-paper-scissors across from you.

“Eagle,” the man’s head snaps to you and he blinks, “Patch through to Laswell. Tell her to gather Task Force 141 in the meeting room on Base and wait for me. Under no circumstances should they be allowed to leave on the Op for the HVT Casilda Kalpana. We’ve got vital intel.” 

Eagle nods and gets to work on a secure call to Kate, as you turn to Wren, clapping her on the shoulder and leaning close to speak into her ear over the noise. 

“Good work, Sergeant. Get all that transferred onto a flash drive for me, yeah?”

“On it, Ma’am.”

This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? You sigh deeply, tilting your head back as the sun starts to slowly rise over the land, bathing it in an orange glow that spreads out like fire. The large Cargo plane following behind the Helicopter would carry the innocent victims of Buck back to Base, and you fight the urge to get in contact with the pilot's headset to ask how it was going for them. It was hard to not get attached – especially when you knew what was probably going through their fear-stricken brains. 

Left wondering in silence, your fingers pick at themselves over your gloves, peeling at frayed threads and durable fabric. As the minutes stretch into hours, you lift a hand and run a digit over your scar, caressing the skin as the forest pulls back and buildings emerge. Turbulence overtakes the helicopter, and your hand grabs the net on the side of the wall to steady yourself as the descent begins. 

Settling your nerves, you wait until the ‘all good’ from the cockpit before you hop out, signaling with your finger for your Squad to follow close behind. Someone else would come and grab the body bag – it wasn’t your problem anymore. Your feet pound the Tarmac, and you can’t help the look you send up to the sky, watching the cargo plane on the horizon as it comes closer. Frowning under your covering, you re-focus. 

I need to stop thinking about it – I always get like this with civvies. 

It was hard not to. You only wanted to bring them the same comfort that John had brought you. 

God, stop fucking thinking about him! His phantom haunts your every step like the two of you were Orpheus and Eurydice – only one of you wasn’t dead in the first place. One had left; abandoned you to the wolves. You had said you held no bad feelings towards the Brit but was that true? And if he was really dead, would you ever even know it?

Your feet carry you forward as the helicopter blades slice the air, making your clothes ruffle and shake under the combat vest and around your ankles. 

The last time you had contact with the brown-haired man, you had been reading his letter in a free-of-charge home given to you until you could get on your feet and secure a job. John had been sent back to the UK on another assignment, leaving you a nervous wreck surrounded by people you didn’t know the intentions of. You had been excited to go to the mailbox at the time – even if being outside still made you nervous. Everything was just so big to you back then. When your fingers had opened the small metal box and found the white letter with the elegant script on top, you felt a smile rip open your face. 

But the contents had been less than they usually were. Stiffer; formal in a way you had yet to associate with the man. He had always been nice to you. But maybe he had grown past that – you feared that thought.  

“This’ll be my last letter for a while, Bird. I’m going Black. Make sure to remember to go outside and drink water for me, yeah?” 

-Price

There had been the start of another sentence before it had been scribbled out and then had been it. No updates; no return address this time so you could write him back. And then you had bever received another letter until you had gotten fed up with your life going nowhere and enlisted. John Price had disappeared, and whether he was dead or halfway across the world you knew not. 

He had been the only man you had trusted until Eagle and Thrush had become a part of your group. Still, even now, the opposite sex made you hesitant – you didn’t like being alone with a man you didn’t know. Your line of work didn’t help that notion, either. 

“Bird,” Shrike’s voice brings you back, and your eyes slide to your side to look at the smaller woman. You hum in question. “What was in the file Wren downloaded? And who’s Task Force 141?”

“All in due time,” You mutter back, your hand opening the front door of the main building. No one was bothering to remove their gear or clean themselves – they all understood from the way you were walking faster that this was important. “And as for TF-141, I have no idea. Never met ‘em.” 

Wren coughs, and Shike looks over as Thrush and Eagle listen silently, the former handing a cigarette over to the other.

“One-Four-One is a Multinational Special Operations Unit comprised of operatives from all over the globe. Much like what we do, but on an infinitely larger scale. I believe Laswell asked our Captain to join it a year ago…” Wren trials, not bothering to look up from her tablet where she still reads through files and other intel from the mission.

Thrush’s eyes widened. 

“Holy shit, really? And you passed it up?” 

“Obviously,” You snort, itching at your bicep where the bullet graze still sits in dried blood and dirt. You repress an annoyed hiss of pain. “Why do you think I’m still stuck here with you lot?” 

“Awe,” Shrike coos, scrunching her nose, “She loves us.” 

“Loves to hate us,” Eagle whispers. You send a half-serious glare as Wren chortles to herself. 

“I can always ask Kate for the offer again.” A loud uproar makes people in the hallway turn and stare, and you laugh under your face-covering, chest light. 

You all arrive at the meeting room door and you don’t bother knocking, shoving your way inside with Shrike still giggling behind you. There’s the presence of five others in the room, and one stands at the head of a large table, a blank projector behind her in dim lighting. You don’t bother looking at anyone else – still keeping that habit of being nervous around new people. 

Laswell sighs as she looks you over, crossing her arms over her blouse. 

“We're all here, Captain. What was so urgent that you had to show us?” You slip past her and head to the computer atop a wooden stand, hearing whispers and muttered comments as your groups disperse around the room. Heavy stares that peel back skin like batter nearly make you sweat. They were boring into you, making your heart race. 

They’re waiting for us, you remind yourself. 

“Wren.” You call steadily and a second later you’re catching a well-aimed flash drive without looking and plugging it into the computer. 

Before touching anything else, your hands reach up and grasp the balaclava, tearing it off your head in one quick motion and hooking it onto your belt. It was rare for you to wear it on Base.

A sharp inhalation of breath makes your fingers over the keys pause, but you only blink and return to typing – pulling up file after file. The air in the room was already tense, but whatever had just happened was setting off alarm bells. 

Who are these people? What just happened?

Nonetheless, you get to work and turn to Laswell with the intel on screen.

“You’re going after a useless player. Casilda Kalpana is only a pawn in a much larger scheme.” Kate’s eyes snap from one digitized document to another as you continue, staring at her and no one else with a blank expression. “If you had sent your Task Force, they would have died. They already knew you were coming.”

“Well,” a distinctly Scottish accent makes your fingers twitch, but still you don't look as a comment is said into the air, “I’d have to disagree with that, now, Hen.” 

Blood and sweat stain your skin, and you’re covered in more of it down your gear. Your gloves are stiff with dried crimson and even the small amount of interaction you had on the computer left stains over the keys. But you still find the energy to roll your eyes. 

“Can you fight off upwards of one hundred hostiles while trying to sneak through a city so inhabited that it's practically a human ant hill? No offense, but if you answer that with ‘yes’ you may need a psych eval done.” 

There’s a pause before a small masculine snort echoes out. 

“Shut your gob, Garrick.”

“Laswell,” you remain on topic and the woman looks at you with inquisitive eyes, “The only way forward with this is cutting the head off the snake. I say we go one above Kalpana and take out the ring leader.”

“Abel?” Kate’s eyebrows raise, “Bird we’ve been looking for him for years – I don’t know what you expect us to do with noth–”

Your finger hits a key, and the next document pops up. 

“You can thank Wren for compiling the sources. Lots of emails to go through on the helicopter ride. Some not as fascinating as finding coordinates for a Target.” 

“You can say that again,” said woman huffs from the back of the room, “you know how many kinky photos these people send to one another. Shit’s disgusting.” 

The Scot speaks up again, “really? On a scale of how bad it was – one to ten, Bonnie.”

“Fifteen. I need my eyes bleached.” 

There is a gaze that doesn’t leave you; it hadn't since you had walked through the door. It is hard and unrelenting. It does not falter or blink away. 

It makes you nervous. 

Sucking down a deep breath you try to focus on what everyone is saying, but it becomes more difficult with every second. Your hand reaches up to your head, scratching at your scar as the presence follows your actions. 

Who is this? You wonder, but clench your jaw and listen to Laswell speak.

“--reliable is this source?”

Shrike answers from near the door, chuckling, “very, Ma’am. Rarely do these people sugarcoat things. Small brains, you understand?”

“...At the very least I need more than a location and a vague date. Bird,” your head turns slowly away from the floor, “can you give me a week?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“A week?” You frown, eyes narrowing at the blonde, “He could be off in the wind by then. Do you have any idea how much this guy runs – I’ve been tracking him down ever since I joined, Kate. This is the most I’ve gotten in that entire time.” Splaying out one of your hands for emphasis, everyone hangs off your words. “He’s the source of all of it. When you cut a snake up, the head can still bite, sure, but at least you know where not to step. Kill Abel now, and all of them are left bloody in the dirt. Ready to be picked off.” 

Before the stoic agent can say anything, the radio on your chest sizzles to life and you forget about the hot eyes and the thick air. 

The people from the warehouse. 

Hand snapping up, you turn your head down into it, facing forward as your eyes stiffen. 

“Cargo plane is clear for landing, Ma'am. Just thought I’d let the Squad know.” 

“Thank you, Cadet. I’ll be there momentarily to help out…” You blink, “Try to make sure only female medics work on them but make do if you have to.” 

“Copy that. I’ll spread the word.”

“Rog.” You don’t bother to take the USB from the computer before you turn away – they’ll all go over it while you see to the Civvies. 

“How many this time?” Kate asks seriously as you slip past, her body pivoting to orient herself as you pass.

“Warehouse full.” You grunt, itching at your bicep and shuffling to the exit. “Less than last time.” The agent knew better than to try and stop you. 

“That’s an old radio you’ve got.” The British accent makes you falter for a second; it was deep, aged like a fine wine that coated the vowels with clipped authority. Familiar for some reason, but you took no notice of it. “Must be one helluva long story, eh?” 

“Very long,” You say as your nimble hand connects with the door, “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to tell it–”

Your body freezes as you send a quick glance to the voice’s owner; stance suddenly locked tighter than a bank vault as your optics find familiar blue eyes. 

…John? There was suddenly a violent silence in your head, a sheet of white paper held in front of your brain to block it from firing. 

He looked older, but then again, it had been years. Many years. But the build of his face hadn’t changed so much to a point you’d be unable to recognize those blue eyes. Oh, that blue. Like deep water and sea foam on a cold shore. Was it possible to know someone only by their eyes? You had to argue that, yes, you could. Because the man sitting down at the table, flanked by three others that all watch the interaction with confused eyes, is not the Lieutenant you remember.

The beard was new – shiny brunette like his hair under his bucket-hat-covered head – along with the stature. Before, Price had been large, sure, but now he was built like a bear. Your tense eyes slip over the tight compression shirt covering his arms, the bulk of his thighs as he shifts in his chair to stand up firmly. John clears his throat, and your face heats under the flesh, but upon the doorknob, your fingers strangle the metal. He was taller. 

In your chest, the aggressive pounding of your heart rivals a cheetah.

What the fuck is he doing here? You can’t help but glare when the man frowns, his eyelids half-down in a studying look as his eyebrows push in. Like he was just as surprised as you were. Hesitant. But I’m not the one who disappeared. I’m not the one who made the other think they died.

When your face shifts to anger, John freezes, his hands coming up to cross and grip the collar of his beige combat vest looking about as awkward as he can. When you huff out a breath through your nose, his feet shuffle shoulder length apart. Ever the soldier – waiting for a lip-lashing. You watch the wrinkles on his forehead with growing hatred. 

“Bird, I…”

Breathe.

“Well, this just keeps getting fucking better and better.” Without another glance, you wrench the door open and shoulder though, tossing it back with a decent enough force to make the wall rattle as you disappear down the hall. 

But he won’t leave your thoughts. John Price. Alive. Here. 

What kind of game was this? 

Your hands are shaking at your sides when the door, already far down the hallway, opens quickly. But the feet are not heavy. Wren slides up next to you, her feet pumping. She doesn’t say anything, just walks next to you as your eyes shutter closed and you take a deep breath. 

“You up for helping out in the med ward?” You force yourself to say, hoping to distract yourself as your face once more moves back to a picture of innocent calm. 

How can he be here? Fuck…h-how? John was part of the 141 for this entire time? Did he know I was here? He couldn't have, no. But what if he did…

Why didn’t he say anything?

“I’m certainly more inclined to lead my abilities to the nurses, Captain. You’ll find no resistance from me.” You liked that about Wren. She never pried about things she knew you didn’t want to talk about. 

“Good. They’ll need them.”

—

“John!” You laugh, hands coming up to your head where the Lieutenant had placed his beanie, the chill outside had made your nose hurt and your breath puff out in clouds. 

Standing just outside the main exit of the medical ward, you grab the fabric as your face turns up to the tall man at your side. He had just shown up from a meeting, and the door closed behind his back as he locked his arms on his vest collar and set his feet shoulder length apart. 

“Well now, what’re you doin’ out here?” It was rare for you to be out of the building – open places still scared you. “You alright?” 

But you needed to think. 

Stiffly smiling, you try to hide your running thoughts from the man who narrows his deep blues at you. He shifts closer, and you can feel his heat melt into you, making your shivering slow for a moment. He made all of it better.

John huffs.

“You’re about as easy to read as anyone, Bird. Go on, then.” 

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” You play with your fingers, skin pulling tight. “I’m just overthinking everything.”

“You’re nervous.” He states, glancing ahead with a tilted head and a raised brow at no one. 

Under your feet, the snow shrieks as you shuffle, looking to the ground and sighing deeply. There was no point in hiding anything from him and his damn hawk eyes. 

“It’s just…I’ve missed so much, y’know?” Your teeth bite your lips as you feel his firm eyes on you, locked onto the side of your face and caressing your visage with their path. You blink out over the base, seeing everyone move from one place to another with a purpose in their steps. “I have no idea what I’ll do with myself all alone.” 

Whispering out the last sentence, you look at the ground, lips in a line. 

It’s a good while before the Lieutenant speaks, and he sighs deeply before he does. You don’t suppose he’s ever had to deal with something like this before. But he’s learning. All the others at Base and in Bravo Unit had been surprised that the two of you had formed such a tight bond in the limited time you had known each other. John Price wasn’t known to be the easiest person to speak to – especially when traumatized victims were on the other end. His stoic and quite confident attitude was the main deterrent, usually, but his hard eyes and face that rarely showed any emotion were a close second. 

But to you, he was the nicest person you had ever spoken to. He never made fun, poked, or prodded, and he certainly didn’t act mean or bossy toward you. John was kind and warm; gentle when you got to know him. 

And you quite liked his company. 

John’s sigh puffs out over the air, and you grab the sides of his beanie and pull it farther over your head to cover your ears. You send him a curious glance and watch his fingers tighten, one eyelid creasing farther than the other when he looks at you in turn. Locking eyes, you can’t help the small smile that twitches your lips, liking the natural handsomeness of his face. You wonder what a full beard would look like over his cheek beside the current scratchy stubble that you had always known.

His eyes flick to your lips, and his teeth grind against each other for a moment before they snap back to your face. 

“They’re sendin’ you out in three days, yeah?” John asks, scratching at his jaw with three fingers before settling his hands back into his vest. 

“Yeah.” You affirm, smile turning to a frown. The man tenses minutely beside you before clearing his throat.

“Well, where they shippin’ you off to? Someplace nice I’d imagine. Heard somethin’ about bloody Oregon, but they wouldn’t give me much more than that.” You tilt your head at that, expression turning amused.

“You asked?” 

“‘Course.” He raises a brow, and his eyes crinkle down at you. “You expect me not to?”

Face suddenly hotter than the sun, you blink rapidly, snapping your head to look out at the base once more. You may have imagined it, but John’s chest jerks in velvety chuckles you miss due to the ringing in your ears. 

What was happening to you?

A small silence wraps its arms around you before you gather the ability to speak again.

“I think it was Washington, actually.”

“Hm, that it?” John frowns to himself, “Lots of people, Love. How are you feelin’ ‘bout it?”

“I don’t really get a choice,” you chuckle, licking your chapped lips as your pulse rises, “whoever has space was kind enough to offer it, how can I say no to that?” 

“By tellin’ ‘em you don’t want to.” Price shuffles so he’s standing in front of you, blocking the people you were watching. He splays his hands at his sides and waits, blinking with a loose jaw. You nod an approval, though feel confused. 

His hands go to rest on your arms, holding them incredibly light; barely applying pressure but you lean into him anyways. You enjoyed it when he touched you like this – the only person you would allow to do so besides nurses. Your tension softens into pliable clay when he watches you. 

You could get lost in them, you knew, his eyes, if you stared for too long. There was an undeniable attraction to the man that you wanted to push away, but couldn’t help yourself. John was everything to you – he brought you books to read, sat with you as you ate in the cafeteria; he sat up with you when you radioed him about nightmares in the small hours of morning. 

That memory made you giddy. Price would stay in his barracks – unable to leave because of curfew – but would speak to you over your shared channel. Use that soothing tone of his to make your eyes flicker back into slumber until he hears your soft breath over the line and sighs. 

John’s throat releases a grunt, bringing you back to the present. He was staring at you softly, a small smile on his lips. You try not to suck in a soft breath. How long had you been staring at him?

“Focus, Bird.” You can’t stop the mute giggle on your tongue. 

“Sorry.” 

The Lieutenant's head tilts, and his usual expression shifts back. He studies your face, eyes sliding over to the bandages above your eyebrow. 

“If you don’t wanna go, tell ‘em, okay? No one can force you to do anything.” He sighs. “I need you to understand that.”

“...Where else would I go?” You mutter, keeping your eyes locked. “It’s not like I have a home, John.” 

His eyes snap away to look at the wall behind you, narrowing. The expression makes you grin, finding it funny when the man thinks so hard. John blinks, cycling back to stare at your lips. 

The air heats and in your chest, you feel your heart beat just a tiny bit faster. Grumbling, Price peels back and releases you before his hands travel up to his beanie. He pushes it down farther, lightly ruffling your head in the process. 

“Hey!” You huff, annoyed. Your hands flap above your head, shoving his digits away as his chest jumps in low chuckles. “Jerk.” 

You shove the fabric from your eyes and beam. 

“Couldn’t help myself, Love. Here, let me.” John’s hands find your chin, fingers so delicately, brushing the chilled flesh that immediately warms at his work. One limb stays, while the other goes to fix the position of the hat.

Sucking in a slow breath, you look up into his eyes and blink as he focuses on your head with a concentrated furrow in his brow. How did he always manage to make you feel safe? Take away your worries as if they had never existed? If there was one man on earth that could make all of this better, it was the one standing right in front of you.

It would always be John.

“Will you keep in touch?” You whisper, nervous for the answer, and his eyes momentarily snap to yours as his motion slows. A pause.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” 

“Hm, well then, I'll write ‘til you tell me to stop.”

—

The reports make you want to bash your own skill in. In the dim light of your office, you sit into the deep hours of the night in your chair, spare reading glasses on your nose to help you force away the blurriness from fatigue. You had spent the whole day with Wren in the medical ward helping the civvies get settled and the nurses with the workload. Such a large influx of patients had set them back for weeks, but it couldn't be helped. They weren’t the people to push anyone away – you knew that firsthand. 

You were still in contact with a few nurses from your own stay all those years ago. Good people.

Swishing another of your signatures on a confidentiality document, you slide it to the side and stifle a yawn with the back of your hand before picking up the next file. Your fingers flick the manilla paper open to where you plan to write gruesome details into the blank lines of the sheets inside, and you just begin to let your ink bleed into the paper when your mind suddenly runs to a brown-haired Brit. Pausing, you blink sleepily before pulling the pen back and setting it on the table with a long sigh. 

“Fucking hell.” A groan escapes your lips. This had been going on for hours. You’d try to start something and then the thoughts would get blocked by that damn man. 

He was even more handsome than you remembered him. Lightly tapping the tabletop with your nails, you can’t deny the heat that had entered your body when you had seen John again. The coarse beard. The writhing muscle of his thighs paired with that tapered waist. 

He had aged beautifully down to the very atoms of his makeup to a point it made your breath go thin; pupils widened in a primal display of need. It was pathetic. But the carnal attraction had always been there along with the normal crush. There was something you had learned a million times over – it was never going to be anyone else but John Price. Even so, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. You’d had plenty of boyfriends throughout the years – small flings that never lasted. 

None made you feel as secure as the once Lieutenant’s simple presence had. Wren had told you in the med ward that he was a Captain just the same as you, now. Captain Johnathan Price. If anything, it made you mad that the title had a nice ring to it.

Your face twists into thinly-veiled annoyance. What gave him the right to come waltzing back? You thought he was fucking dead. Instead, you had been ghosted so bad you joined the goddamn military to help cope. Fuck, maybe your therapist had been right all along.

You’re just about to let off a spring of audible curses when a knock on your office door makes you flinch, eyes scrunching before sense finally finds you again.

Can’t I wallow in peace? You ask yourself, hoping Shrike hadn’t gotten into a fistfight at the local bar in town again. I swear I need to put Thrush on watch duty for that woman. Maybe Eagle’ll convince him for me. 

“Come in.” You stand as the door opens slowly, hinges echoing out as you slide the reading glasses off your face and toss them down. “I swear if Shrike got suspended again I’m going to hit her over the head with the code-of-conduct manual.” 

Snapping your fingers and cracking your neck, you huff when no one responds before turning to the door.

“What’s going–Oh.” 

John stood in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a thick black cotton shirt that covered his large arms and hugged just the perfect amount over his triceps. It showcased his large shoulders before being tucked into his cargo pants. For once in your life, you think you’ve seen him without some sort of hat on his person. 

Freezing, you stare wide-eyed at him. John frowns from where he lets the door automatically shut, nodding his head towards you firmly in greeting as your heart kickstarts. His large hands enter his pockets like some guilty teenager as you gape at him. 

John clears his throat. 

“Bird.”

“Get out.” You deadpan, not bothering to hear the man out. Price groans, head tilting to the side to glare at the wall as his jaw clenches.

“Love, would you let me explain–”

“No. Frankly, I’ve had enough adrenaline rushes for one day, you damn jerk. Now, get out of my office.” You begin making your way from around the table; pulse flying through every point in your body. 

You can’t be here, John, you clench your fists, please, you can’t be here. 

Annoyance sparks in those blues that you love to stare into, but all you do is go to stand right in front of the man with a violet frown that he mirrors. 

“Bird.” He says again, setting his feet.

“John.” You raise a brow and cross your arms. The Brit growls, gaze flicking away with a heat to it before wafting back like fog over water.

“What’re you doing here?” He says slowly, trying to keep the peace between the two of you.

“Well,” under your arms, your hands shake, “what the hell do you think? Working the same as everyone else. Or at least I was trying until you showed up.”

“That’s not what I bloody fuckin’...” John trails off, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and letting the tension in his shoulders loosen. His hands exit his pockets, and you stare as they splay by his waist. “Please, Love. I’m not trying to argue with you.” 

“Arguing is the least of what you should be worried about.” Grumbling under your breath you lick your lips as his eyes lock with yours. 

There was something there you couldn’t name, but it sat on the tip of your tongue – perhaps close to the emotions of guilt and horror that left the Brit’s jaw tight and his eyebrows constantly furrowed. Had he really never expected to see you again? 

Yes. You figure with a heavy heart and a spark of hurt. Had you really been so discardable? In your mind, you had thought that you meant something to him. But maybe that was just another lie. 

Letting out a scoff, you roll your eyes before looking away.

“Weren't really many options for me.” You concede a small portion of yourself if only to get him to leave so the way he makes your lungs sputter and face heat can cease. The others would make fun of you for this. A pointless crush on a man you hadn’t stopped thinking about for ages and held a great deal of resentment toward. When would the self-sabotage end with you? “Thought it was a better way to help others like me.” 

You turn back and raise an expectant brow. “Happy now?” 

John just continues to stare, lips thin and pulling under his beard hair as he raises a hand to itch at his jawline. A growl digs at your throat. 

“John. Leave.” Not able to help yourself, you spit out, “if you wanted to quit talking to me all those years ago – you could have just told me instead of making me think you were fucking dead.”

The man’s head immediately flinches back, face scrunching in genuine confusion as his mouth parts. Under his shirt, you see his heart skip a beat.

“What are you sayin’ Bird? I never did anything fucken’ like that. What are you on about?” He shakes his head, “you stopped answering me.”

“The fuck are you saying? No, I didn’t!” Reeling back, you throw your hands above your head in a display of surrender; about to slink back to your desk and try to forget the heat of John’s body and the blaze of his eyes. “God, I give up on you and your stupid accent. I have reports to get done without your presence making me want to vomit.” 

“Oh, my presence,” The Captain throws out a humorless chuckle that makes you want to cry. “Eh, you’re angry at me – you have every right to be, Love. I fucked up,” He growls, teeth gnashing, “But don’t fuckin’ lie to me. That is not what bloody happened – I never stopped writing you.”

“What the hell do you mean that’s not what happened?!” Your scream surprises you, with your voice bouncing off the wall like a demented banshee was in the room. You snap back around on quick feet and stalk over to the man. John’s eyes widen at the enraged tone and he blinks in shock as you continue, backing up a single step when you get in his face. “I waited and waited for you to send another letter – I waited months for nothing! Do you know how that felt, John? To-to go over in my head that maybe you never made it back from that Black Op at all? That you were dead somewhere in a fucking jungle or a desert or anywhere? I tried to get in contact with everyone, and nothing panned out. They wouldn’t tell me shit. So don’t stand there and say it never happened like that, because that is exactly how it happened!” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears are dripping down your chin, hitting the floor with muffled plops.

 John is slack-jawed, eyebrows all the way up on his forehead and orbs stuck on you – on your obvious panic. His breath is heavy, and you feel it spread over your face from how close the two of you were; you had ended up pointing a finger right into the Captain’s peck. Under your harsh press, your flesh felt his pulse flying off the rails. Your nose scrunches as you sniffle, aggressively ripping your limb back to your side. Oh, but he had been so soft under you; his skin beneath that fabric reacting to your own by pulsing to life. John’s tongue wetted his lips. 

Scoffing, you take a step back, but the man speaks before you can get far enough away. It was quiet, how he said the words, and his expression was one of genuine confusion and concern. His eyes were brighter than the moon – that gray space rock put to shame by the rolling beauty of his optics that reflect light far better than she ever could. Gentle Selene, how did it feel to be beaten by a man covered in more death and blood than anyone? Who’s skin is tough and callused so perfectly that a child of Ares wants to feel those fingers caress her in forbidden places. Oh, to be kissed and loved by him. To be worshiped like a god. 

“What in the hell are you talking about?” It was nothing more than a gasp, and you see his fingers twitch to touch you; to hold you to him as if nothing had ever happened.

“John, I’m not repeating myself.” You sob down a breath, looking away and shrugging pathetically.

“Bird, listen to me. Eh, eh. I…I never stopped sending you letters, yeah?” Blinking, you turn back to him and frown dumbly, your eyes furiously dancing from one wrinkle of his forehead to another. A minute passes where you feel more tears drop to the floor. 

“...What?” Confusion laces your eyes, “but I never got anymore after…” 

You trail off, letting the sentence die as your heart does. 

What does he mean he kept writing letters? I…I waited and I never got any. None of this made any sense, but the man in front of you was never one to lie. Ever. 

John takes a step forward and you tense. He freezes, face hard and jaw set beneath his beard. You can tell he’s still confused – just as you are, but his attention is fully on you.

“Can I touch you?” He asks lowly, hands outstretched but never even grazing your shaking shock-filled form. His thick fingers are all separated, the digits lightly curled inwards to the palm. Those hands. Would they even feel the same as they did back then? 

But did that matter? Neither of you was the same person anymore. Both of those people had been lost in the annals of history – their story was already over and done. The pages turned. Cover closed. 

Those two kind people had died. They were buried together under the ground, bones turning bleach white and wrapped in vines; nothing more than a ghost of a dream.

“Bird?” John whispers, his head tilting down to look at you closer as his chin bumps his chest. His feet move carefully as his hips shift and you feel his body heat like a noose around your neck. Your resolve was slipping, but it had already been fraying when you had first laid eyes on this changeling – this person wearing the Lieutenant’s face and eyes. 

John.

You nod without looking at his creased eyelids, and he slips you into his firm hold without a second thought. 

“Oh, c’mere, Love.” Standing heavily, you breathe in a deep breath as your head meets his chest, body wound tight. How many times have you dreamed of this? Finding him again despite all of it? It felt…wrong. 

You had been sure he was dead. How was he not dead? 

“Little Bird, I’m so sorry.” Your eyes widen, and a sharp gasp is ripped from your mouth; lips instantly begin to shake and pull tight. 

No, you want to scream, no don’t say that to me, John. Don’t do that to me.

But he mumbles it again into your hair as his hand cups the back of your skull, weakly swaying back and forth in this dim office surrounded by blood and death. His body is like a rock all around you, and as your arms rise to wrap around his waist, you hear his breath shutter down over your forehead; his lungs hitch. 

“I thought you died.” You hate the whimper that gets muffled by his shirt as you nuzzle into it. Hate it with a burning passion. When was the last time you had let yourself break like this? Left staining someone's shirt with tears and muttering fears into their chest. But this wasn’t someone, this was John – John had promised you he would come back for you, always.

And so John just holds you tighter and kisses your forehead. He lets you cry. He makes you feel safe where no one else ever could. 

The man – a triumphant Orpheus – keeps you close until you can breathe firmly again. Only then does he carefully peel back, and you catch a glimpse of his soft face. The face that you missed ogling as you walked beside him. His hands go to cup your cheeks, thumbs slipping to wipe away tears that clog your vision with his quick eyes falling to study your visage; you liked when John took care of you, even if you knew you could handle it yourself now. 

He made everything better. 

Peering into his eyes, you catalog the new aspects of his face as your breaths mingle, bodies close and intimate. He had more wrinkles than you remember, and his eyes were even more cold. John’s beard was perhaps the change you liked the most besides the nicely trimmed head hair. 

“MacMillan.” He grunts out and you frown as he continues with a sigh. One of his arms goes to slither around your waist, pulling you even closer as if he couldn’t be separated for one more second. “He didn’t like that I was writing you, Love. Said I’d been too distracted. Must have stopped the letters from gettin’ out…bloody fucken’ bastard, he is.”

You hum, content for the first time in a long while. John’s chest moves against yours – pressing into it and making you ache with every fast puff of air. Noticing the rapid movement of his heart, you look deeply into his expression and find his pupils blown wide, a deep heat taking root around the room. 

“If I had known, I would have found a way to give ‘em to you myself.” Your body tingles, and your fingers dig into his skin from around his waist as your noses nearly brush. He doesn’t pull back. “You know that, don’t you? I’d have hopped on the first damn plane – shown up on your doorstep. Gear and all.”

“Now, I would have paid to see that, Captain Price.” He purrs, and the vibrations of his chest make your eyelids flutter. “Standing on my porch like a husband who came home from war. Pity.”

Chuckling breathly, you can’t help but giggle back, leaning into his hold on your cheek. You don’t remember ever feeling this happy. 

A moment of stolen breaths and wandering touches ensues; beating hearts that make muscles writhe and inner tensions reach a breaking point. Finally together again after so long apart – there were so many things to say to each other. 

“Hm, Love?” John mutters as his nose bumps yours, making your head lightly tilt to the side to make his lips brush yours with every panted gasp. You lick your lips and accidentally slide your tongue against the side of the Brit's mouth; you watch his eyes darken with a smirk. 

“Yes?” You wonder aloud, eyes hooded, and his gaze narrows on you – a blatant enticing accusation making John’s skin thrum with electricity. 

“Can I kiss you?”  A breathless grumble. 

“Yes.”

Your lips meet with a clash of hellfire and a song of lust, sparks like jumping embers lighting across lit flesh. Digging into his waist, you enjoy the way John’s ribs flare with large lungs as his teeth clatter into yours, the way his grip on your face trails to your neck, digging and making you gasp into his mouth when he slightly presses into your pulse point. 

He chuckles pridefully before reconnecting his face to yours, feeling your heart pound outside of your body. The two of you were so close to one another that it was nearly like you were trying to melt into one being – an amalgamation of calluses and milky scars; violence and unspoken words. 

The both of you had been waiting for this for years. Ages.

A swipe of his tongue over your lips and suddenly your mouth is wide open, letting the muscle delve into you before retreating once more; leaving strings of saliva as you let him separate. Face hot and breath panting, you both stare at one another with swollen lips, red and bitten. There’s a small moment of quick inhalations and banging chests before your nails suddenly dig into the small of his back, dragging him forward once more as he heaves under your hold. 

No need for talking, you could get everything you wanted to say across just by how you bite into his bottom lip, how your knee brushes his crotch and leaves him jolting into you. Groaning into your mouth. 

John’s fingers kneed your flesh, every brush like a cattle prod. Without even realizing it, both of you had started to back up, your feet skimming the floor as one of your hands went out behind you to connect with the desk edge. 

“Lift.” You mumble into his mouth, and not a second later the man’s large hands grope at your thighs, squeezing once before he effortlessly manhandles you upwards. Your legs spread and go to wrap around his waist, locking at the ankles and producing a deep churning in your gut.

When your backside lands on the desktop, your lips have traveled to lay nipping kisses on John’s neck and under his ear; hand now over his abs and dragging down while your nails leave him shivering. He grunts and clenches his jaw when you bite into his flesh, the delicious tickle of beard hair brushing your nose as you watch with feral satisfaction upon the flush on his complexion. 

The Captain’s hands run up and down your hips fervently, mapping out the flesh above your loose sweatpants. Before long there’s the feeling of pressure forming above your core, a deep imprint of tented cargo pants leaving a familiar feeling of passion leaking out into your panties. The both of you were utterly addicted to the other. 

“Eager?” You breathily wonder, teasing, leaving another hickey on John’s pulse point as he side-eyes you with blown pupils. Your gaze only catches a flicker of a smirk before his hands suddenly bore down into the skin of your thighs and his hips cant into your core. 

Gasping out a moan, your fingers twist into his shirt, face falling onto his shoulder. 

“J-jerk!” You keen, face hot, and mouth open to help you suck down air before he does the same motion again, liking how you look when his erection rubs the right spots. Shaking, you feel John leaving hot open-mouthed kisses on your skin, beard coarsely stimulating your already warm skin. Under his unrelenting hold, your legs quiver to try and move faster.

Smug bastard, he was enjoying this.

“Now, then, who’s eager?” A confident superiority was stuck to the tone like the slick was making your underwear stick to your slit. It felt dirty, but you liked when he talked like that – tried to use your words against you as his own pleasure was making him go slack-faced. 

How would it feel to have him moving inside of you? Leaving you sobbing from pleasure as your shared release dripped over the floor and his veins caught your ridges just right? 

Your back arches into him, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling as his hand presses into your tailbone to angle you upwards into him as he groans into your shoulder and stutters his animalistic pace. The feeling was unlike any other you had experienced; you could feel the electricity every time he stimulated your clit, leading to involuntary jerks on your part and thin breaths. There was barely time to suck down air over the lightheadedness. 

“I-” Your voice cuts as cold wetness slides down your folds, and you shiver despite boiling. “I think you’re the one rutting into me like a bitch in heat, John.”

“Well, you’d be right,” he growls, and your fingers slide down his shirt before you can slip into his pants. The Brit sucks in a sharp breath and his other hand, once on your thigh, goes to slam onto the desktop in a quick motion when you play with the strap of his boxers. “Fuckin’ minx.”

You smirk, angling your head to the side to watch his normally stoic face begin to break when your nails trace the trail of hairs that lead down. Close but not close enough to where his cock strains violently; twitching as the telltale leak of precum stains his underwear and pants. You doubt your appearance down there is any better. Everything sticks to each other so tightly that you were slightly worried your desk would need a deep clean. 

John’s eyes are closed tightly, teeth clenched tight when your nails trace circles along his prominent ‘V’ line while his abdominal muscles tighten to an attractive degree of internal yearning. Around his waist, your legs are vibrating with eagerness, your skin so sensitive it was like every nerve was being fired. Oh, you liked that look on his face more than anything.

“You’ve got to say it, Love.” You watch as his biceps tighten and strain, hand over your desk clenching into a fist behind you. Your hand dips lower in his boxers as your core begs for something to fill it – anything to make the cum drip out of you and give overstimulated aftershocks. Your other limb goes to pop the front button of his cargos as your sweaty face angles itself to connect your nose with the Captain’s larger one, smashing against it desperately. “Open your eyes, John. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Breathing over his visage, he flickers his eyes open with a small struggle and you almost moan at the heaviness of them as they gaze at you. He says nothing to you, but his digits at your tailbone leave their position to mirror your own actions. Your confidence stutters when John deftly pulls at the string and slips his rough pads under your panties, stopping on your body where you wait on his. 

Your eyes slightly widen and your heart beats impossibly faster. 

So that’s what this is…some kind of cat-and-mouse game? Alright.

The desk is uncomfortable under you, but you find you don’t even care anymore. Staring into John’s unblinking eyes you raise a brow. 

“Not saying anything?”

“I’ll leave it to you. Do what you wish, Princess.” Your fingers experimentally skim to the base of his cock, playing with the hairs and feeling his fingers mirror, stopping just above your aching clit and barely touching you. This would be easier with the clothes off, less awkward angles if you would just fuck each other like you both desperately wanted. Raw and fast, no time to breathe before starting another round to make up for lost time until the two of you were too tired and sensitive to even rut into each other without passing out. But the two of you were too currently obsessed with battling wills – this was a game that made you even wetter, and him harder. 

But, fuck, it physically hurt not to have his dick inside of you right now. Maybe a substitute could work? 

Your fingers grip him inside his boxers, and before you can laugh at his throat-strangled moan of carnal pleasure, his own are delving into your drenched heat relentlessly. 

“Fuck!” You whimper, hips jerking as your mouth falls open, eyes rolling back. He has the audacity to steal your laugh from you and throw it back as it puffs out over your cheeks. 

When John feels the drowning wetness stemming from your slit and he curls his digits, he can’t help the vile smirk that infects his lips; a raised eyebrow, and a comment on his hot breath.

“All this for me, hm?” You don’t answer, too lost in the blue of his eyes and the sparks that emulate at having another living being pulsing over your tight walls. 

“S-shut it.” Groaning, you pant trying to move your hips before he growls in front of you, making you pause as your hand around his cock twitches.

“None of that, now.” There was no amusement in his eyes, but a steel-like determination and a demented tilt of his head as his forehead connected with yours. “We’re gonna help each other, yeah? Make it a little game of who can get off first. Can you do that for me, Dear?” 

Where has your confidence gone? Has it leaked out of you? 

You whine as your eyes crinkle, desperate for something on your clit despite the feeling of being stuffed by two of John’s large fingers. John frowns, and his thumb hits the perfect bundle of nerves like he could read your mind. Writhing, you feel your eyes wet with pleasure-tears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your mind is going so fast that it’s blank, only able to focus on John and how his hips sputter to try and fuck himself on your hand. He was just as needy as you were, skin flushed and muscles tight under his clothes.  

“C’mon, Love.” He groans, nipping at your wet and red mouth and pulling at your lip as his calluses rub in small sparking circles, trying to get you to respond. Your hips careen forward to chase him. “Where’s my sweet Little Birdie gone, eh? She’s so wet for me, can’t have lost already. Listen, now, okay?” 

He begins to fuck you with his fingers, moving painfully slow in and out, pushing and prodding as you moan and gasp when he runs over the tense walls. But you do listen – God, how couldn’t you? 

“You hear that?” Your eyes widen and your hand tightens over his cock like a vice. Your own cunt was so soaked that every motion of John’s fingers made an obscene squelch, and your walls tighten in retaliation around him as he groans deeply, feet shoulder length apart. “There she is.”

You match his pace with your hand, collecting his precum at the tip and spreading it down the shaft as you both get each other off with fast breaths and locked eyes. 

“T-that’s a girl.” John can’t help the way he moves faster, eager to release the strain on his balls, his fingers rapidly moving and thumb pressing tightly as you squeeze around him. “Fuck.” He growls, hunching over you and taking a peek down to where your sweatpants and panties strain to hold his hand inside as you work him. “Fuck,” he repeats, “such a lovely fuckin’ cunt of yours. Grippin’ my fingers like a damn noose, you are. Can’t wait to—”

A strangled whine breaks through his clenched teeth when you twist your hand, creating a rhythm of your own that makes sweat break out on John’s forehead. 

“Bloody…” his head falls to your shoulder, where you lick and bite at the side of his ear with hard teeth, thighs burning as you jump every time his thumb weakly stutters over your clit. Your ankles dig into his tailbone. 

“C’mon, John,” you gasp, sweat trailing your spine and soaking into your clothes as the sound of rabid slopping echoes off the walls along with loud moans and guttural grunts. “This is what you wanted, right?” He bites into your shoulder through your shirt. 

The Brit was close, you could feel it in the fast careening of his hips; the way his dick in your soft hand was twitching and covered in just as much wetness as your splayed slit was, where John’s fingers continue to spread you violently wide. But his motions had faltered, but still, that tightening in your belly was there even as he slowed at his impending release. Your pleasure stemmed from seeing him lose it under the twist of your wrist and the lick of your tongue under his ear.

His groans were getting louder, body hunching in around you as the desk knocked into his knees. 

“Little more,” you like the way his beard burns your neck flesh, how his body pulls you even tighter against him so you won’t take away his climax at the last second. “C’mon, let me feel it.” He gasps and twitches a whine stuck deep before it is expelled from his lungs as he shakes like a leaf against you. 

He shoots his cum down to stain his boxers and cargo pants and you look down in a daze to look at the patch, but his locked fingers inside of you involuntarily curl all the way up, pressing into that spongy spot as you clit it pinched so tight your eyes widen. Before you can stop it, you're moaning out loudly and breathlessly, back arching and releasing just like that. Spazaming, it’s cutting through you like a knife, filthy stickiness coating John’s hand in a thick layer in an instant as your walls clench.

The both of you shake into one another, bodies coated and clothes wreaked – fingers and hands not willing to part from the other's wreaked pants. 

Whining, you force your flicking eyes open and feel John breathing heavily into your neck. Sucking down fast breaths, you lick your lips and state, perhaps a little smugly, “I…I win.”

A panting moment of sweat-coated silence. 

John starts laughing, deep bouts of shaking movements that make you follow. In the dim office atop a ruined desk, you both lean into one another, clean hands digging into the others’ clothes and hair. The lingering pleasure was addictive. 

“Fucken’ hell…yeah, Love, guess you did.” The brown-haired man pulls back, and your hand falls from his cock and lands in your lap. You unlock your ankles and shiver when his fingers brush inside of you when he takes them out, teasingly running over your overstimulated clit and huffing, amused when you whimper pathetically and slap his hand away. Glaring, he smirks and you roll your eyes. Raising a brow as sweat falls from your nose, you shift over the wood and stare at John as his hidden emotions wash over you in the form of blue water.

You can’t really think that I’m done with you? You want to say.

“What do I get, then?” Your thighs twitch, legs still splayed around his wide hips. He frowns teasingly.

“What’s that?” 

“I won, didn’t I?” Staring intensely, both of your hands go to hold you up behind you, leaning back so you can place weight on them. Already, your slit is aching again, your navel pounding as the room smells like sex and messy release. “I want a prize.”

“That how it works, then, Captain?” John sighs, crossing his arms and puffing his chest as your leg moves up and down his thigh, “You expect to be rewarded? Hm, you’re in the wrong profession, you are, Love.” 

“No,” you smirk, “I’m not.” 

Reaching, your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt, feeling John’s eyes bore into your skin as you pull the article over your head and let it hit the floor. You hear his breath get shallow, and, disliking how the cum staining your lower body feels, you lift your hips and slide both your panties and sweats to your ankles with a quick motion.  

Looking up at John, you smile innocently, only clothed in a bra.

“Take off my shoes for me?” His blue eyes are barely visible anymore, black already taking over as his piercing look stays on your shiny cunt like a dog with a bone. You see his breath get shallow and the hard-on under his clothes once more grow larger. “John?” Prompting him to move, you take one of your hands and spread your folds. 

The man’s hands twitch, feet shuffling, but other than that he stays stone still until you speak once more, even if he’s almost physically vibrating at the sight of you. 

“I’ll let you clean me up if you hurry up and get my clothes off.” His large hands snap to your laces, untying them expertly and pulling them from your feet so they clatter to the ground. The remaining fabric follows. 

Giggling, your breath gets caught when John’s fingers trail up your ankle, his free hand going to lay firmly at your opposite knee. Using one of your hands you reach up and unclip your bra, slipping it off your shoulders. The reports on your desk are all most likely ruined – you’ll need to rewrite them tomorrow – but for right now you’re transfixed on the sight in front of you. 

John looks into your eyes and utters, “you sure you know what you’re doin’ Sweetheart?” 

“Take off your shirt.” You smile in return, your fingers going to slip into your eager cunt, still burning from John’s long-gone relentless digits. Your eyelids flutter at the fire. “And your pants. I wanna feel your muscles movin’ when your tongue cleans up my cum.” 

His chest is heaving like a wounded animal, and you whine when you curl your own fingers in your heat, wishing it was John’s dick. Fuck, you needed him to hurry up already. Your digits couldn’t satisfy you as he could – when you had been stroking him you had marveled silently at the girth, the sizable veins that pulsed in your grip when you squeezed. 

Watching like a hawk, John slowly moves and pulls off his shirt as you lazily fuck into your wet entrance. You spy his large pecs and nicely shaped waist as chiseled abs make your mouth water and lips part in soft puffs of breath. The coarse hair over him was the same shade as his beard, and you followed the trail with greedy eyes until it disappeared below his unbuttoned and stained pants. 

Your chest gets just a little bit together; cunt tightening dangerously.

“You’re droolin’, lovely,” John smirks down at you, “careful now, don’t wanna finish on yourself. Just makin’ more of a mess for me, hm? Naughty.” He strips off his pants and boxers, kicking his boots off, and you stare wide-eyed at the spring of his dick, noticing the way it hits against his stomach with a molten red tip. 

You would have gotten on your knees and sucked him off, but he beat you to it. 

The Captain forsakes his own needs and does as he’s ordered – he kneels to the ground and levels his face where your cum stains your skin and nudges your fingers out of the way. He begins to lick along your thighs as your wet hand goes to slick his hair back, gripping the strands and observing the phenomena below you with a slack jaw. 

Oh, hell. 

He stares at you as he does it, cataloging the flesh that makes you jump and the places that leave you shaking with need. His tongue sucks and bites, but never goes where you want it to, instead, he just spreads your legs farther and makes comments as you grunt above him.

“Such a mess, Princess…I’ll have to take care of you.”

“That’s it, Love, fuck my face – try and get off. Good girl.”

“Fuckin’ delicious, that is, eh? Here, have a taste.”

You’re left a shaking mess by the time the remnants of your orgasm are traded for saliva, his muscle slurping up every droplet without complaint as his fingers leave bruises in your thighs from how tight he has to hold them to keep the limbs apart. This wasn’t going to plan for you. 

Whining and whimpering, you ache for him, your lower body throbbing as more slick begins flowing. At this rate, he was going to suck you raw and leave beard burn all over your inner thighs. 

“J-John,” you plead, disheveled as your hand grips his hair tighter, biting into the brown whisps. You were going to climax without him even entering you.

“Hm?” He groans out, licking a long stripe over your entrance but never sinking into it. Your body shivers and jolts, chasing that friction but he moves away too soon. You nearly sob. No, no, no. I can’t take it. “What is it, then?” 

“Fuck me.” You feel the twist of his lips more than see it.

“Yeah? That what you want?” 

“I swear to God, John–!” He stands so quickly that you yelp, legs wrapping behind him as his arms go around your backside and hike you into his hold. 

Moaning loudly, you feel the press of his cock over your slit, whining and immediately trying to shift in his grip to attempt to slip him inside of you with a twisted face. But the Brit’s hand on the small of your back is tight, keeping you trapped against him. 

“Not yet.” He growls in his ribcage, and you connect his forehead with yours and force yourself not to beg as he narrows his eyes at you. But you're not a fool, you can practically hear his cock trying to move against your heat; his thighs quivering. “Fuckin’ hell – you’re impatient. Your whole squad like that?”

“You’re a damn tease.” You huff, rubbing and pressing your nipples over his chest hair to stop the throbbing in them. “Ruder than I remember. Didn’t even let the girl suck you off.”

“Then you’re gonna hate what I do next.”

Your confusion bleeds into your expression as he situates himself in your desk chair, leaning back into it with a groan and squeezing you in his arms. His dick slaps at your backside when he lets you go and just stares. Furrowing your brow, he tilts his head down at you as your arms rest on his pecks, playing with the hair there and tracing scars.

“Go on.” The Brit prompts with a tilt of his head toward you, a nonchalant expression on his face that makes him look more like he used to – outwardly not caring but studying every move and twitch of your body.

He watches you like a wolf.

“What?” Questioning, your head pulls back as your legs fall limp at his sides to dangle above the floor.

He huffs. “You said you wanted your prize – take it, then.”

“...b-but…”

“Go on. Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

You glance down, utter exasperation showing on your face, “how am I supposed to…?” 

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out, Love.” John’s hands go to sit on the armrests, fingers swishing as they hang off the ends. Your face burns, annoyance filtering into your veins as your eyelids crease. 

Trying to prove a point, you stave off the awkwardness of the angle and shift upwards, using John’s broad shoulders as a way to lift yourself up. Taking a shallow breath, your breasts are shoved into his face when you free one of your hands, going to grasp him to line the joining up. You feel him distantly nipping at the supple flesh, his hands over the rests jerking as his legs open wider under you. When you grab him, he grunts, and your nails leave crescent marks on his skin as you clench your jaw as it rests on his head. Huffing, you jerk him off a few times to make his body writhe before, in one fell motion, letting yourself fall onto his dick. 

You both let out sounds that are more animal than human, deep wails and keens that shake the office walls. 

“Fuck, John,” you make noise like a damn porno, head slotted in his neck as you shake and jolt this way and that with rapid nerves that shoot down your arching spine.

He was tearing you open – ripping you apart with the spearhead that curves so deeply you struggle to breathe correctly. Jesus, was he in your throat? Gasping, you feel so full in such a unique way it leaves you addicted, your cunt so tight around John’s cock that the walls inside of you quiver with every small movement. When he gasps out breaths with his closed-tight eyes, you notice the way your body convulses, red-hot pleasure rocketing to your brain and pumping endorphins before clenching around him. 

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit, I can feel his goddamn veins digging into me! Your small mewls of pleasure spill out even as you both stay still to adjust. Sex had never felt like this before.

John spasms, hands immediately snapping to your thighs to keep you there as he wheezes. 

“Fuckin’....christ!” Blinking rapidly, you bite into John’s neck to ground yourself, hips rocking despite his pleas. “So tight. Squeezin’ my cock just perfect. Take it, Love. Fuck, c’mon, take it.” 

Your slick and his precum make it easier, the wet squelching once more resuming at a faster pace than before. You release his skin, intent on chasing after the orgasm building around this man’s dick that hits every spot like it was target practice.

“John, feel so good,” you moan, breathing loudly as the Brit watches you take him like it was nothing. 

“H-hell.” He groans long, hands helping you jump when your legs shake too violently every once and a while. He’ll have blood dripping from his shoulders from how hard you dig into him, but watching your cunt swallow him over and over again is payment enough as a ring of milky white forms at his base. “Look at you. Fuckin’ good girl. Keep it steady, now.”

“P-please,” you sob, eyes shiny as your walls ache – your needy clit was burning. John watches wide-eyed; blues boiling. “Clit. I need…” 

Trailing off you connect your lips to his when one of his thumbs goes to your nerve bundle, quickly working at it in tight circles that molds your lips onto a silent scream. John whimpers when your pussy clamps, his senses all covered in you – your scent and how your tits bounce so beautifully – a second later he can’t help himself any longer. 

His feet plant themselves to the floor, and he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hips rapidly thrust, skin on skin the only sound above high moans and muffle pleas of release. 

It was far past words anymore, just feral animals seeking an earth-shattering orgasm at the other’s hand. Drool was slipping down both of your lips, splattering down chests and cheeks as sloppy kisses miss marks. 

So close. So close.

The snake was coiling, walls shaking and alternating between squeezing too tight and letting John hit as far into you as possible. You suddenly wail into his hot mouth, eyes rolling back when he angles his thrusts back towards himself as he slouches in the chair.

“There it is. Bloody bastard.” John hits it again, leaving you collapsing onto his chest as his hands go to wrap around your back, large arms using you to stay still as he pants ferally, eyes wild as they stare down at your blessed-out expression. Fuck, were you even able to speak anymore beyond whines and gasps? The clench of your pussy?

“Don’t worry, Love,” One thumb still plays with your overstimulated clit, making tears splatter his chest hair and get stuck as every sliver of skin that’s coated in sweat and joined slick. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah, I’ll fuck you proper later.” 

Your eyes roll back, back arching into him. God, was this not fucking you properly? But then again, John was a gentleman at the end of the day – his idea of proper was probably a bed and a glass of water on the nightstand. 

But this was so much better. The neediness of it, the emotional release besides the physical. John could fuck you anywhere at any time, as long as you got to hear him speak to you like that. Breathless, whiny like he never was and probably never will be outside the company of just you – even after being separated, you knew he was never one to do things like this.

“Tell me you’ll let me cum inside this cunt, eh, Love,” his accent is stronger as he gasps, raspy, with muted growls, before his head tilts back behind the chair’s backing. He speeds up until you were sure the chair was going to break in two, the material squealing. “Let me breed you like I always wanted to, yeah? Watch that spent cunt drown before I pump back in and stuff you full again. Please, Bird, let me…Let me…!”

You're about to lose it, hands raking down his chest and legs numb before you can gasp out a single sentence before the rope snaps.

“God, John, don’t…don’t let any go to waste.” You moan and slot your head under his jaw, feeling his beard bristles burn your nose when you finally let the snake strike. 

Freezing, your lower body jolts as if connected to an electrical line, walls constricting around the foreign entity inside of you as it continues to chase its own high. One firm thrust, two sloppy ones, before a groan so loud you feel it reverberate in your heart enters the heavy air. There is an undeniable fullness to your womb that shoots deeply into your being, splattering your thighs and staining John’s abdomen. From there it’s small instinctual thrusts as your ringing ears twitch at the sound of cum dripping on the floor. Panting, you can’t help the fucked-out way your mouth parts to release a satisfactory sigh at the feeling of euphoria in your brain and cunt. 

It felt like you were floating on air when John finally started rubbing a hand up and down your back, shaky fingers hard and sure as they trace old marks. 

Still short of breath, the two of you revel in each other's company with palpitating hearts and half-lidded eyes. Still slotted under his jaw, the brown-haired man mutters softly.

“New?” As he taps a bullet wound on your right side that’s been healed for years now. 

“Hm,” uttering softly with a hoarse voice, you smile weakly with warm cheeks, “old. Three years.” 

“...I have a lot to catch up on, then, yeah?” 

“Very much. But don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” He chuckles, making your form move with him. You take a deep breath, finally feeling yourself come back to earth, albeit on unsteady feet. 

A good bout of calming silence forms before you speak through a haze of fatigue. It had to be late by now – incredibly late. Maybe just using the pullout bed would be better than doing the walk of shame back to your barracks. John could join you here, you decide internally. 

“How did you know I’d even speak to you in the first place?” You ask as the man shifts under you, lightly lifting your black and blue thighs as you begin to whine quietly; he shushes you with a calm presence. Delicately pulling out, he lets his spent cock exit your red and swollen hole as more combined fluid falls from you to run over his hips and pool below. Resettling you, he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“The radio. You kept it.” You grin shakily, feeling him run his fingertips down your spine, finding more milky scars and caressing them with callused hands. 

You’d have to tell him all of your stories later, and in turn, he’ll tell you his. There was a lot to learn, but this certainly wasn’t a bad spot to start. Nuzzling farther into his neck, you sigh dreamily as his pulse sings you to sleep like a lullaby. Before you drift off you whisper out a reply that leaves John shivering. 

“...I guess I did, didn’t I?”

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaut2029, @shmaptin, @levietc

(if anyone has any idea why some aren't working I would love to know lmao)

[lovieku]

Good Luck, Babe! #1 ☆ jeon jungkook

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 10.4k +

☾ warnings: female oc named eunbi. explicit language. alcohol consumption. lots of flashbacks. mentions of menstrual cycle. misogyny (not jk). jk is one year older than eunbi. jk is a biker!! he doesn’t have tats and piercings though, that will come later. they’re currently in uni. jk is a film production student. eunbi is a literature student. awful abuse of italics. check masterlist for more!

☾ author’s note: hello!!! this is my first time doing this so please bear with me! english is not my first language so there might be some mistakes, if so please let me know. just in general, feedback is very appreciated :) as i mentioned, i never posted on tumblr before nor wrote an au in english so im kiiinda nervous about this… but i swear ill try to bring my idea to life in the best way possible and i wont make you regret reading this hehe… Also!!! each chapter is named after a song that reminds me of them <3 i hope you come to love eunbi and jeongguk as much as i do, maybe with time… thank you !

indexㅣnext

one ⋆ come back to me

Sitting across the table, he stares at her. The light of the twenty birthday candles reflecting in her eyes, the people surrounding her, his own friends. As she’s blowing out the candles, he wonders what she wished for. Does she ever wish to go back in time? Does she think of him, of what once was? Does she regret what happened? Jeongguk scoffs at his own thoughts, looking away from what’s in front of him. It makes his blood boil. How could she just forget?

“Did you even wish Eunbi a happy birthday?” It’s Dahye blocking his line of vision now. He looks up from where he’s sitting, pout on his face and eyebrows slightly furrowed, “Why would I? Would she ever do the same for me?” She would. Jeongguk knows he’s being petty, but he can’t help it.

His friend rolls her eyes, unspokenly conveying just how tired she is of this constant snubbing between Jeongguk and the birthday girl, “So you came to her party to do what? Sit here and burn holes into her skull? Fucking grow up Jeongguk, you’re being childish.” She forces him to get up, but as he does he’s not sure he can handle this whole situation for much longer.

Everyone is hugging her, but it all feels so fake. Her smiles and squeals directed to everyone else but him. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here, doesn’t wanna be part of this farce. He feels out of place with his own people. Why did she have to ruin this one thing he had created? Why did she have to be so likeable to everyone? He can keep lying to himself, arguing that there’s no actual reason, but he knows first hand that it doesn’t take much to become fond of her. She could be spotted in a million people. She’s effortlessly glowing, radiating the light of a thousand stars, and the light burns everything. It burns his eyes, his skin, his heart.

Jeongguk has to look down at his hands as he squeezes them into fists, trying to make sense of what’s happening. He’s letting anger take over, but he knows deep down what he truly feels is sadness. Helplessness, even. He looks up just to find her staring back at him, and is he reading hope in her eyes?

He needs to get out. Being in her presence isn’t healthy for him, especially on what’s supposed to be her day, her night. He can keep being resentful, but he knows he doesn’t want to ruin that for her. Walking away from the table, he reaches the backdoor of the pub and searches for a cigarette in his jacket. Stress is clouding his mind and he just needs to relax. Breathe.

In his pocket, he doesn’t only find the pack of cigarettes he’s now desperately trying to open, but also a reminder of how delusional he truly is. Jeongguk stupidly thought he could maybe muster the courage to go up to her and give her a little gift, just a sign of politeness, he thought to himself as he fished it out of a forgotten memory box. He knows ever since they saw each other again they’ve been acting petty. Purposefully ignoring each other as if nothing ever was. He thought he could at least put an end to this. Hand her a bracelet he still keeps from their childhood as a request for a truce.

Jeongguk shakes his head and scoffs. He feels crazy. Insane, even. Is he really the only one thinking so much about how weird this whole new dynamic between them is? He knows they haven’t seen each other in years, of course things have changed, but why is she acting as if he is at fault? As if he’s the one who should apologise? He fumbles with the cigarette and struggles to keep it still in his mouth. Just then, he realises he doesn’t have a lighter on him.

”Fucking hell,” he looks up, maybe searching for help, talking to something greater than him. “Why do you hate me, God?”

”Bad day?” Jeongguk startles. He knows that voice. Turning around, he guessed exactly who it belonged to. She takes out a lighter and puts it between them, waiting for him to take it. Such a small gesture seems to mean infinitely more.

”Uh, thanks.” Jeongguk is aware of how pathetic he sounds right now, voice small and low. “Um, happy birthday. I guess.” I guess? What the fuck?

Eunbi chuckles, amused by the way he’s acting. He swears that makes him even angrier, he feels like fucking screaming. “Thanks. We’re eating cake. Come back there when you’re done?” She stands there a few more seconds, just staring at him. She expects Jeongguk to say something, anything. Even give her a smile, a nod of his head. None of that happens.

With her hair styled in a half ponytail, perfectly tied at the back with a white bow, she nods to herself and walks away, leaving the lighter in Jeongguk’s hand. He’s left speechless. That’s their first proper interaction after years. That’s all they could say to each other. He feels the hole in his chest, that he had managed to almost fully close, reopen at such a rapid speed, and he feels the urge to get out of that place immediately. Like hell he’s going back there.

Cigarette long forgotten, Jeongguk throws it somewhere in his jacket’s big pockets along with the lighter, and tries to make himself unnoticed while he frantically searches for the exit. Why the fuck are there so many people out drinking on a Monday night?

He feels bad for leaving his friends without any warning but he’s afraid one more second here could cause permanent damage to his brain. There's no point in staying any longer whatsoever.

“What a fucking waste of time.” Muttering to himself, he pushes the door open and walks ahead, keeping his head low while fishing for his bike keys in his jeans.

“Jeongguk?” Of fucking course, he thinks as his eyes close for a second, searching for the little patience he had left. Eunbi’s voice fills the much quieter parking lot outside the pub, the sound echoing and making him stop in his tracks, helmet already in his hands as he turns around.

“You're leaving?” If he didn't know her (and he would argue he actually doesn't anymore) Jeongguk would think there's a cloud of sadness in her voice. He slightly shakes his head and looks behind his shoulders. Scratches his head. Anything to escape what is happening.

“Yeah, it's quite late. I have a 9 a.m. tomorrow. Don't wanna miss it.” He's lying. He doesn't have lectures on Tuesdays, and even if he did, he's no stranger to skipping classes. He doesn’t care if the girl knows all about his ways. Hell, being in the same uni friend group doesn’t actually allow to really avoid seeing each other every fucking day of the week.

“Right,” she nods, kicking the pebbles under her feet. He notices she chose to wear Converses even under the flowy white mini dress she has on, and they still look like she never cleans them. Then she hesitates, “Wait a second? I’ll bring you a piece of cake to take home. It's your favourite, double chocolate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even give her a nod of his head. The birthday girl looks like she’s waiting for it though, some sign of reassurance. She’s left with none of that again, and figures she should be as quick as possible to avoid Jeongguk leaving without knowing she truly appreciated him being here.

He scoffs at the sight he catches a glimpse of through the pub’s window, the girl frantically recovering a piece of the dessert she claims she knows it’s still his favourite — it is. At that, he almost thinks of waiting for her. Almost. He doesn't, his petty nature taking over. He hops on the bike, helmet on, revving the engine to finally get the fuck out of there. No waiting, no warning. After all, it's not like she'd ever warned him before disappearing.

Jeongguk feels absent for most of the ride back to his cramped rented flat. Dissociated. Mind full of thoughts (and maybe regret) but body so relaxed and at ease because of the gentle summer breeze brushing his skin. It’s nights like these that take him way back, places in his brain that he’s sick of visiting. Jeongguk actually doesn’t remember a lot, doesn’t keep on too many memories of his past. Instead, he thinks he’s probably cursed with having every moment with her carved in his head, from the first time he saw her to the last.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Mom, I'm going outside!” A ten years old Jeongguk rushed down the stairs, hands full and voice shaking with excitement. Once again, he gathered as many toys as he could and his trusted camera to go play outside the porch.

Laying on the sofa, his mom was concerned Jeongguk would fall with how eager he was in his movements, “Alright baby, stay off the road though!” The apprehension was short lived, the woman letting a sigh out of her mouth, knowing taming little Jeongguk was mission impossible.

Nonetheless, Mrs. Jeon had always believed her son to be very intelligent for his age, both academically and emotionally. He had already developed a great sense of responsibility and empathy, especially towards his peers, so she never once doubted his actions.

On the other hand, Jeongguk felt a sense of loneliness. Being an only child during summer meant many things, one of them being the fact that he was bound to be alone most of the time since schools were closed. And so he would do what he liked the most. He would go out and film.

Usually, the subjects were his own mother, or father. But sometimes he enjoyed making scenarios on his own, pretending to be a great director and moving his actors — his toys — however he wanted, “One, two, three… action! We're rolling!”

His passion for photography and movies had grown increasingly over the past year, also due to him finding his new favourite thing ever in an old box of his dad, a Samsung SCD71.

As Barbie was about to finally kiss Ken under an imaginary stormy downpour, which Jeongguk was trying to make as believable as possible, a sudden noise had completely obscured the microphone of the camera, probably making the recording unusable. “What’s going on…” Jeongguk directed the camcorder towards the origin of the annoying sound, and through the lenses he caught sight of a moving truck that had just parked on the road. More specifically, it stopped in front of the house next to his, which he had learnt to be empty. Up to that day, apparently.

Curiosity had always been one of the most striking and dominant aspects of Jeongguk's personality, which he probably got from his dad. Camera hanging around his neck, he got up, hopped the fence and got closer to the truck, still careful not to get on the road, just as his mommy had advised him.

Jeongguk came closer, spotting a girl about his age carrying a box double her size. Her voice could be heard, even if suppressed by the weight of those items, “Mom, why do I need to carry these things, they're so heavy!” The girl whined fruitlessly, her mom going on about how she was just being dramatic, “Eunbi, just leave it on the porch and your dad will take care of it.”

To Jeongguk, it didn’t look like the kid was being dramatic. Those boxes seemed hard to even pick up. He bit his lip deep in thought, so much he didn’t even realise his feet moving on their own and getting even closer to the scene. Before he knew it, he asked, “Do you need help with that?” He felt the urge to lend a hand, just because that was in his nature.

The little girl was startled, almost losing balance at hearing a stranger’s voice directed at her. She couldn’t see who it was because of the box limiting her view, but she figured it didn’t belong to someone much older than her. When she put the carton down, she got confirmation that she guessed right. Still, her first instinct was defensive, “Huh? Who are you? And no, I don't need any help, thank you.”

It was Jeongguk’s turn to be startled. Initially left speechless, he tilted his head at being rejected when he was just trying to be nice. No problem, he’ll try again, “Oh, okay but… you were just saying the box is heavy?”

The snappy girl furrowed her brows, seemingly much mature for the age she was showing, “Yes, but that doesn't imply that I can't carry it.” Arms crossed, she looked proud of the reply she came up with, but really was just waiting for her dad to do something about the weighty box.

Tilting his head to the other side, Jeongguk reminded the girl of her little black poodle she had to leave back in her old town with her grandma. Big brown eyes and long hair, the boy pouted in thought, “Im- imply? What's that?” What can he say, he had always preferred scientific subjects.

“Whatever.” Eunbi — was that her name? — looked around in hopes to find her parents, who were inside, busy unboxing the most important items to get the long process of moving out started. When she stared back at the boy, she sighed, “I guess you can help me.”

Jeongguk chuckled contentedly, suddenly very pleased with carrying heavy things for a girl he didn’t even know. “What’s your name?” He tried to make conversation while they both went back and forth with the cartons, a silent competition between them on who was faster.

”I’m Song Eunbi… you?” Both too tired to keep carrying other stuff, they sat down on the stairs of the door to her new house, which she didn’t seem that excited about.

“Oh, I'm Jeon Jeongguk, I live next door. I came here because of the noise, heh.” He smiled a big one, showing his teeth and almost fully closing his eyes. That caused the younger one to smile too, starting to let her guard down. With the boxes out of the question, she noticed a big object hanging around his neck, “Woah… what’s that?”

She reached to touch the Samsung camcorder but he was quicker, grabbing it and tugging it to his chest in a protective manner. The pigtails girl retracted her hand, a slow pout coming on her face but not fully developing, because before that could happen Jeongguk had recovered with a jolt of his head, “Sorry, don’t like people touching it. It’s a camera. I use it to record and stuff. You wanna see?”

Eunbi didn’t reply, wary of the device in Jeongguk’s hand, and she just watched him maneuver it as if it was his job. When he gasped, she returned the attention to his face, “It was still recording. Forgot to turn it off…” He seemed more as if he was muttering to himself, but then he also shifted his gaze towards her.

Lifting the lenses up to his face, Jeongguk pointed the camera towards his — hopefully — new friend, “Do you wanna say hi?” He zoomed in and out, focusing on the background then on her. “Huh… hi.” She smiled sweetly and the boy remained on that view for more seconds than necessary, before ending the recording.

The initially grumpy girl seemed to share that same curiosity that characterised Jeongguk so well, because she eagerly started asking the older kid questions about the camera, and he easily complied.

They spent the next two hours watching Jeongguk’s self-directed short movies, in which Barbie was always somewhat saved by Ken; and then Eunbi was so inspired by that, she tore open her toy box and instructed Jeongguk just how to direct the sequel of one specific film he had showed her.

His mom was scared, to say the least. Opening the front door to call Jeongguk for dinner and not instantly seeing him. Panic, panic, panic. None of that was occurring in Jeongguk’s head, though. He was so excited to have new toys that he could use to fulfil his director dream, and Eunbi seemed happy too. Together, they created the most original stories that the only child could surely have never come up with on his own.

When Jeongguk thought he heard his mom’s voice, for the first time throughout those endless hours he lifted his head up from the camera. “Baby! Oh, thank God, I was so scared.” His mom came rushing towards him, holding his head to her chest.

Toys dropped to the ground, Jeongguk looked at his mother and the clear height difference made him also aware of how dark the sky had turned compared to when he first walked out his door.

“We were just about to come around!” At that exact moment, Eunbi’s parents walked down the stairs of their porch to greet Mrs. Jeon, “Our pleasure, you must be Jeongguk’s mom?”

The mentioned lady only nodded her head, anxiety still struggling to leave her body after thinking she just lost her only son. “I am… Um, I’m sorry about him,”

”No, don’t even!” Eunbi’s mom interrupted, “He’s been nothing but a sweetheart. We would love to have him, you and your husband over for dinner this week. We just moved in and it’d be nice to make friends.” She admitted, slightly embarrassed that her flow of thoughts made her say that out loud.

While the adults were sharing adults-stuff talk, Jeongguk managed to escape his mom’s embrace and go back to his new friend. He pointed the camera to himself, “I’m sorry, my dear public, but the movie has been interrupted.” Jeongguk announced with the saddest voice, looking over at Eunbi who nodded just as dramatically.

Now with the lenses on her, she sighed, “Yes, sadly. Will Barbie save Ken from the zombie apocalypse?” She sounded genuinely upset they didn’t get to find out, “I guess we’ll never know.”

They did find out. Made another four sequels that summer. Jeongguk will forever hold that to his heart as the best he’s ever had, the first time in his 10 years of life he spent the scorching season with a friend by his side, making the heat and the boredom bearable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Are you even listening to me?” Jimin looks at Jeongguk, annoyance clear on his features when he notices the younger one isn’t paying attention to his rant about cafeteria prices being ridiculously high. They had decided to try and get some assignments done in a coffee shop that had just recently opened, but actually ended up talking about anything but university. Jimin waves a hand in front of the brown haired boy’s face, “Earth to Jeongguk?”

The mentioned boy shakes his head, lifting it from the palm on which he was resting his cheek, “Huh? Sorry, what was that?” Jeongguk hadn't meant to space out, but lately it seems like it's been easier to get lost in his thoughts. Jimin's eyes soften visibly as he sighs.

“It was nothing important,” now that the blonde guy has his friend’s attention again, he thinks of shooting the question he’s been careful about asking. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to come out tomorrow evening. The whole group is going.” Hope fills Jimin's voice and he forces his biggest smile, knowing convincing Jeongguk to go out these past weeks had been close to impossible.

Jeongguk studies his best friend’s face, squinting his eyes suspiciously, “Is she gonna be there?” Such a simple question completely shutters the already minuscule hope Jimin had left.

Still, the blonde head tries to act unbothered, “I did just say that the whole group is going too.” He searches for the younger’s eyes but it looks like he’s already set on a firm answer.

“Then no.” Jeongguk replies, his eyes low on the table, picking up every uninteresting detail he can catch. He knows there’s no actual reason for him to reject Jimin’s invitation. He also knows it’s been a while since he started being this difficult over simple matters he wouldn’t have stressed about months ago. What he doesn’t know is since when he started feeling like he doesn't belong among his own friends. Or better, he does, yet he doesn't want to acknowledge it.

The older of the pair sighs, fixing his hair and trying to find a solution to his friend’s sudden change in demeanour, “You know, you really should talk to her. Sort this thing out between you two.” His voice is careful, almost too delicate. Jimin had always been a big advocate in the truce between the two, if there had even been a war to begin with, yet never managed to make Jeongguk reason with him.

No matter how gentle Jimin was trying to be, he still gets an unwanted reaction from the other man, who now crosses his arms on his chest and furrows his brows. “Oh, so I should be the one to talk first. Why can't it be her? No one ever thinks of the way I’m feeling.” Once again, Jeongguk is being unreasonably difficult. He hates the words he chooses as soon as they come out of his mouth.

Jeongguk knows his friends deeply care for him, especially the one in front of him. They had been glued together since the day they met, now even sharing an apartment. They weren’t totally compatible for multiple reasons, but that’s probably why they became so close. They both added elements that were missing to each other and created a smooth dynamic, a connection able to transcend many barriers.

That’s why Jeongguk knows he can be as childish as he wants, because Jimin will always find the right words to put him in his rational mind again, “Guk, what I’m trying to say is… This is genuinely not healthy for you. You’ve been stressing so much over this and detaching yourself from the others.”

The brown haired boy keeps eye contact with his friend now, no longer escaping confrontation. He’ll admit he’s tired of running. Jimin really hopes his eyes can help his words convey how he feels about this, “They’ve asked me if you’re okay, you know. They noticed. They miss you when you’re not there.”

Hearing this makes Jeongguk bite his lip and look away in thought. He’s never been like this. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be like this. Feels terrible knowing his friends have probably interpreted him being more absent in a completely wrong way. No one else knows about the real reason, except Jimin.

He feels stupid when he realises just seeing her again had taken such a toll on him, when really he loves being surrounded by his people. The people who have been by his side this past year, who made university bearable, with whom he finally felt like he belonged somewhere. Now, one of them is in front of him, trying anything to get him to say a simple yes, “C’mon? It’s gonna be fun, we can just be on our own if you w-“

“Jimin. It’s okay. I’m coming.” He doesn’t know if it’s an impulsive decision, but seeing the incredulous smile on the blonde guy’s face makes him not dwell too much on what he just agreed to.

Jimin scoots his seat closer, putting his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders, “Really? You’ll come?” Seeing the other boy just nodding at his questions, he makes a sound close to a squeal and claps his hands, “It’s gonna be so fun. The best party we’ve ever been to. I promise!”

The younger one just laughs while Jimin goes on about how he has to update the group chat on Jeongguk’s presence and, “Should we plan our fits? I was thinking of wearing that shirt Hobi lent me that I never gave back.”

Jeongguk laughs, genuinely surprised that his presence could lift Jimin’s spirit up so much. He has been too harsh on himself ever since she made her appearance, thinking it wouldn’t make a difference if he was there or not for the others. Fuck her. Those are his friends too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As soon as he heard the house phone ring, he picked it up. There could be three possible people calling: his aunt, his grandmother, or Eunbi. Guessing by the time displayed on his computer, it had to be the third. With how much the two of them spent talking over the phone (even if they lived next to each other) Jeongguk had asked his mom to get him a desk phone of his own, so it could be easier to call.

Pausing the game he had been close to finishing, he moved the device to his ear, “Hello?”

“Jeongguk…” Noises close to sobs could be heard on the other line, making the boy worry. It was definitely his neighbour’s voice, but something about it was not right.

With his eyes unconsciously wide open, making them bigger than they already were, he got up from his seat on the desk, “Bee? Everything okay?”

Silence was what he was met with initially, until he could hear sniffing and shuffling, “Huh… I don’t know. I think I got the… thing.”

At that, Jeongguk slowed down. Panic slowly left his body, which automatically sat down again on the chair. The boy almost didn’t consider a very important feature characterising his best friend: her being totally over dramatic about anything slightly outside of her usual routine.

If one single hair was out of place; if someone didn’t agree with her; if Jeongguk picked Toad instead of his usual Luigi in Mario Kart. Little meaningless actions that could get Eunbi to either yell, cry, or both.

When anything of the sort would get that reaction out of the girl, Jeongguk would do the most to be an absolute menace and make it ten times worse, just because he enjoyed bickering with her.

However, he knew not to do that in situations like these, when he didn’t know if she was genuinely hurt and needed some sort of comfort, protection. That’s why he did his best to understand the situation, “What… thing are we talking about exactly?”

“I… This is disgusting. But my parents are out, I’m home alone, and,” she sobbed “I need diapers but like, for women.” Another hiccup escaped her.

The boy on the other side didn’t know how to react. Had a vague idea of what could have happened but wasn’t that confident to assume, “What the heck are you talking about.”

“Jeongguk! Just get me those things and come here!” The line got cut abruptly and for a second Jeongguk sat there, just listening to the endless beeping. It resembled what was happening within his brain cells. Think, think, think.

He was pretty sure he saw his mother buying diapers-like stuff, came across them a few times in the bathroom. Knew every time she complained about pain, his dad automatically went out to buy those for her; figured it’s what Eunbi needed and begged for.

Putting the phone down, he sprinted to the upstairs bathroom, glad his parents were still downstairs, probably watching those game shows they love, assuming from their laughter. Which is also how he thought they would react if they saw him digging through his mom’s drawer looking for pads.

He found two types, “Why do they make one for day and one for night…” As he inspected them, he figured he should bring both and let the pained girl try them on or something. Do they go by size? This is weird.

Jeongguk took everything he could find and put it in his backpack, hurriedly going down the stairs and just then realising he had to come up with an excuse to his parents’ questioning eyes.

“Huh… Eunbi wanted to show me a new game she got. I’ll be back in a few.” He nodded enthusiastically, more to himself for being so quick on the spot, and rapidly exited the door before anything his parents said could stop him.

When he rang the doorbell, the first time wasn’t successful. He unconsciously bit his lip and tried again, worried something might have happened. With his finger hovering over the buzzer for a third time, the door suddenly opened and a messy haired Eunbi pulled him in.

“This is insane. I’m only eleven. This can’t be happening, Gguk. I used Dad’s computer to look this up and it’s saying this comes every month. Every month!” His back to the door, the boy was held hostage by his babbling best friend on the verge of a serious crisis, “This is the end of m-“

“Jesus Christ, stop.” Jeongguk put his hands on her shoulders, trying to get the scared girl to stop panicking, “I got what you need. They’re called pads, by the way. Also, why do I know more about this than you?” The older boy knew he shouldn’t be pissing off his already very pissed off neighbour, but he can’t help it. Loved making fun of her.

Still, with Eunbi’s voice being surely audible even from outside the house, yelling at him for disrespecting her, he took out the women-diapers and handed them to her, “Listen, I’m not sure how these work. I can look it up online, if you w-“

“No, oh my god. You don’t wanna see what I saw. I’ll figure this out.” Tugging the five packs of pads to her chest, she nodded confidently. She rocked on her heels, lifting her shoulders up and then down releasing a long sigh, almost as if she was waiting for something else. Jeongguk exchanged her (not so) convinced nod, not sure what else to do, “Huh… Okay, go.”

“Yes! Right,” Nodding again, this time repeatedly, she turned around. Not even one step in, she spinned to face the older boy again, embarrassment dancing on her cheeks, “Um… actually, stand outside the door?” She smiled her sweetest one and, without waiting for an answer, dragged him to the bathroom door, closing it to his face but still talking through the whole thing, oh, I think it fits like this; no, maybe like that. This doesn’t feel so bad. Just sticky. Jeongguk wasn’t sure this was what he agreed to when becoming friends with a girl.

Twenty minutes later, the newly menstruating girl came out of the room, looking up at her best friend. He was glad something different was now showing on her face, something close to relief, “I feel better, Gguk. I feel like this is a new beginning,” which was followed by her endless ranting — review and all — on this new experience. She couldn’t believe she shared her first period with Jeongguk. Heck, Jeongguk couldn’t either.

“Why didn’t you just call your mom?” With a movie playing in the background, only after an hour of looking up “menstrual cycle” online, he genuinely wondered why he was the one there instead of her mom or one of her girl friends.

By the looks of it, Eunbi didn’t take the simple question that well, “I get it, you hate me, you think I’m annoying and-“

“God, you get what I mean when I say you’re over dramatic?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That version of Eunbi feels much closer to the one that’s in front of him right now, turned around and waiting in line to get inside the club all their friends decided to go to together. After agreeing impulsively, there was much rethinking on his side, but Jimin would keep begging him to just come, it’ll be a fun night.

Sure. There he is. Not even in, and already hating every second of it. It was not only because of her, Jeongguk just didn’t get the hype around dancing for hours and being suffocated by other sweating drunk bodies. To be completely honest, he dreaded these places. Now even more, having to witness Eunbi fighting with random men that take pissing people off as a hobby.

The worst thing that could happen to her already over dramatic personality is being joined by the origin of drama itself, Dahye. The latter is actually the reason why the now yelling girl became part of his friend group. In the middle of last semester, she had to look for a roommate and fate wanted her to be the last person on earth he wished to see again, especially in Seoul. However, they instantly kicked off and she got introduced to the others, which also included Jeongguk. Imagine his face when he saw her.

Everything led to this moment though, with Eunbi and Dahye entertaining the dumb, probably already drunk guys over an even dumber argument, “How are you judging me for drinking a Sex on the Beach when you literally reek of beer, the worst beverage on earth.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he’s glad or not that the girl didn’t lose her blabbering tendencies, the little kid inside him enjoying the bickering and seeing her worked up over dismissible issues. However, no matter if she’s discussing cocktails or science, he feels like keeping his guard up high this time, just because these men don’t look like they have the best intentions, and he doesn’t want anybody to get hurt. Anybody.

He’s proved right when they emit the ugliest laughs at Eunbi’s claims, with one of them getting almost all up in her face, which Jeongguk doesn’t like at all. He takes a step further, securing a safer spot behind the girls in case something happens and he has to intervene. You never know with the two roommates, it’s not the first time they’ll be causing a scene. It’s not because he cares about the shorter girl. He’s just worried about her potentially getting the group kicked out. Yeah.

Licking his lips, the bald guy (not even an inch taller than the girls in flat sandals) squares the Sex on the Beach girl up and down, doesn’t look like he’s close to letting the stupid fight go, “Let me guess, the cocktail, those shoes, the attitude… You probably study some dumb shit like Psychology, huh?”

Such a meaningless statement gets all his minions to laugh, patting his shoulders and making more comments amongst themselves. Dahye rolls her eyes, unamused by the whole act, “That’s not the outrage you think it is, babe.”

That only gets the drunk men to laugh more, Jeongguk squeezing his fists for a second and instantly reading the look on the other angered girl’s face, knowing she’s probably ready to turn this into the worst night of every present person’s life just for the sake of her degree’s reputation.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. It’s Literature, you dickwad. You know, you're single-handedly making engineers’ notoriety even worse than it actually is.” Jeongguk knows there’s no stopping Eunbi, but he wishes he could right now. He’s glad the girl is able to stand her own ground, but is also afraid this may end horribly.

The counterpart of the diss seems taken aback, his two brain cells struggling even more because of the alcohol in his body, “How do you know I’m an engineer?”

Having it served on a silver plate, the girl in her short dress smirks, “‘Cause you look like a fucking dick.”

The men feign their surprise, the guy that mainly entertained the conversation saying something along the lines of Wanna see?, pointing at his down area and snickering, while his friends act like he’s the absolute peak of comedy.

Jeongguk has to clench his jaw, not at all pleased with how the situation is escalating. He knows Eunbi can handle such stuff, but he swears he’s one more comment away from stepping in.

On the other hand, she doesn’t seem to mind, not even thinking of backing up and showing the guy her pointer finger and thumb almost touching, indicating the guy’s size. Jeongguk slightly smirks. Then immediately wipes that off his face. He doesn’t find her funny.

“You know, this is the third time you end up talking about my dick,” the bastard is getting closer to his friends, and Jeongguk hates that. “You’re funny, you just need to be disciplined.”

As soon as those words leave his mouth, Eunbi doesn’t hesitate to invade the guy’s personal space too, holding eye contact, ready to literally throw hands if not for Dahye quickly catching her arm to move her away.

The bald head scoffs, before adding the filthiest shit his misogynistic limited mind could come up with, “If you ever need this engineer’s dick when whatever you’re studying leaves your ass on the sidewalk, you can come suck it for a couple of wons.”

Jeongguk sees absolute red for a second. He’s had more than enough now, putting a hand on Eunbi’s shoulder before anything more than an incredulous gasp could leave her mouth. He makes himself noticed, not that it was hard with his taller figure, taking matters in his own hands, “What the hell is your problem, man?”

When the mentioned guy diverts his eyes from the girl he just degraded and moves them on Jeongguk, he takes a step back. Still, he doesn’t stop his dirty mouth from running, “Shit, is she already busy with you? Sorry, man.”

His group laughs at that too, and the taller boy unconsciously squeezes his hand on the girl’s shoulder, clenching his jaw. “You’re fucking disgusting. Get the fuck out of here before I make you.”

What his eyes convey is definitely stronger than the words he lets out, wishing he could destroy every bone in the guy’s body, who now knows to stop being so smart. He mutters a few more comments though, making it harder for Jeongguk to not act upon his violent thoughts, “I’ll give you three fucking seconds.”

That makes the guy lift his hands up in surrender and finally turn the other way, distancing himself even from his friends, who don’t find him amusing anymore.

Jeongguk thinks the whole thing is over, but of course he should have trusted his wide knowledge on the fussy girl’s behaviour more, and predicted that she wouldn’t have let it go so easily, “Oh, so now that a man broke in you shut up, huh? Come talk, you little pus-“

“Eunbi. C’mon. We have to get in,” It’s — strangely — Dahye who doesn’t go along with her roommate and instead directs her to the entry, assuring her how there’s going to be no more trouble and just a long night of fun. The other girl just scoffs, too busy looking back at those men to try and get them to react again, but when she’s inside and she loses sight of them she finds her eyes meeting Jeongguk’s, who is directly behind her.

The interaction is awkward, to say the least. She slightly bows at him in recognition, while he just nods and does his best to avoid finding her eyes again, resorting to turning around in search for Jimin, probably way behind with Hoseok.

He’s so thankful when he feels a pat on his shoulder, and looking to his side it’s Namjoon that pulls him into a side hug, “That was tuff, man.”

“Ah, nothing,” Jeongguk nods, adrenaline still struggling to leave his body and not allowing him to relax. He follows his friend’s steps even if they’re going in the same direction as the person he’s now even more than before trying to avoid. He didn’t plan to be this close to her for so long.

“I thought you hated,” the taller guy uses his chin to refer to the girl in front of them. “But here you are defending her.”

The other guy is glad for the loud music playing, the last thing he wanted was for the mentioned girl to hear. He also doesn’t want Namjoon or anyone else to think that was him coming in her defence. It was just common sense. Doesn’t know why he felt like breaking the guy’s nose though. Figures that’s common sense too.

Before he can justify himself, the remaining members of the group reach them, giving Jeongguk the chance to get away from the sight of the girl but still feeling a burning sensation on his tongue. The need to make himself clear.

The chaotic atmosphere is even more emphasised by his already tipsy friends telling him again and again how happy they are to see him here, shaking him by the shoulders with way too much enthusiasm. Now distracted by the earlier incident, he just jokes with them like usual, but he feels a nervous sensation creeping up his neck. With a drink in his hand, he tries to follow the music, but he can’t seem to focus.

When Jeongguk finds Namjoon again, who was already handed a drink by Jimin, he gets close to his ear, replying to his previous insinuation, “I wasn’t- defending her.”

The older guy furrows his brows at him, signalling the conversation being over and certainly not that important, “Sure, man.” Showing his thumbs up, Namjoon scream sings some lyrics at him, Jeongguk still feeling a bit uneasy. He just needed to specify that. He was not defending Eunbi. Well, technically. But Dahye was there too, and she’s his friend. Of course he would have done th-

“Ggukkie!” It’s Jimin’s voice pulling him away from his thoughts, but also pulling him closer to the floor, “I’m so happy you’re here! This is fun, no?”

Jeongguk nods and chuckles at his best friend’s horrific dance moves, just now realising how tipsy he already is but taking it as the opportunity to fully let what happened go.

The rest of the night is unexpectedly fun. He’s surrounded by great energy that his friends keep oozing, and he realises just how much he had missed laughing to the point of his stomach hurting. Shouting when the group's favourite songs came on. Chuckling at a way too drunk Hoseok trying to get him to move his hips a bit more. Of course, he should have predicted his friends’ main goal is to get absolutely shit faced tonight. He isn’t really in the mood for that, though enjoying the state of the others while too much alcohol is flowing in their bodies.

No drinking means Jeongguk’s social battery is running out much faster than the others’, not having enough energy to entertain the constant back and forth between his friends, and certainly to handle them not even needing one single break from the dance floor.

At some point during the endless dancing, he settles on just being by the bar counter, sitting on a stool and taking no more than a few sips from the drink Jimin had given him as soon as he had stepped foot in the club, which was hours ago by now. He doesn’t know why, but alcohol tastes awful on his tongue tonight and it’s a task on its own to even swallow it.

”Can I buy you a drink?” It comes from a silky voice on his right, close enough to startle him slightly before he recollects and takes in the girl looking at his face expectantly. She has soft features framed by smooth blonde hair, completely contrasted by her intense makeup and burgundy mini dress. So far from his type, but Jeongguk entertains it for some reason.

”Well, you stole my line there,” the smile he gives her is gentle but playful and it sets the girl into a fit of giggles, clearly amused by the mysterious dark guy sitting alone by the bar. And that’s exactly what she tells him, ”I had to give it a try, you get me? I love boys that look just like they need to be fixed.”

“That is absolutely ridiculous,” he genuinely laughs, and he’s joined by her. Jeongguk can’t lie, the conversation between them takes off right from the start. It’s a nice back and forth that takes his mind off things for a while, not enough to actually give into her flirty intentions, but enough to eventually move to the dance floor with her. She’s witty and he likes that about her. Abbey? Ashley? He clearly doesn’t like her enough to remember. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

He can’t bring himself to, especially when his line of vision falls right on a tipsy Dahye-less Eunbi next to what seems to be more than one guy. She’s laughing a lot and he’s sure none of what the men are spluttering can be that funny. It’s probably just the alcohol, and that is enough for him to keep him observing. Only to make sure nothing bad happens.

Abbey-Ashley must have noticed his sudden disinterest, and with boldness she wraps her short arms around his neck, bringing him way too close to her face than he had planned to be to any woman this night. The eye contact is uncomfortable, and Jeongguk is itching to keep checking on whatever was happening not too far from him, but the blonde speaks her wittiness again, “You won’t let me offer you a drink and you’re not willing to dance with me, is this how men feel?”

The pearly smile on her face lets him know the setting between them is still playful, so he just shakes his head letting a small giggle out of his mouth. Now with the woman almost hanging from his neck, he resolves on just going along with her moves, and when he steals a glance at the girl he was previously keeping an eye on and sees her staring back he feels a sense of unwarranted satisfaction.

He keeps searching for that, wanting more of that groundless feeling but all he’s met with is more and more flashes of her digging a hole he’s afraid she’s gonna fall in, with the men acting way too friendly and her drunk mind not noticing. Or just not caring.

When the blonde in front of him starts being a little too inclined on taking the physical contact further, he regrets not even finishing his previous and only drink of the night, wishing he could give in but knowing he can’t with his mind thinking way too rationally and being too aware of his surroundings. He genuinely thinks Abbey-Ashley is a nice girl, and he feels sorry knowing he’s going to reject her. Thinks it was kind of fuckboy-ish for him to go along with her knowing they’re on two completely different lines, but still doing it because it seemed like the quickest escape from his running mind.

He gently puts his hands on her waist, intent on moving her away and trying to come up with a reasonable excuse, when he hears his name being called and for the second time tonight, he’s glad Namjoon’s parents fucked. ”Hey, JK- oh shoot, am I interrupting something?”

The smokey eyed girl breaks away from her moment and seems suddenly very interested in hearing Jeongguk’s answer, batting her eyelashes at him in hopes of getting a different reaction from what she knows the evident one is going to be. She did know the brown haired man was not interested; she still figured she could try and change that.

Jeongguk moves his gaze from his friend to the girl and hesitates, “Huh… not really.” He gives an awkward tight lipped smile, thinking this is fucking embarassing, then tries not to read too much in Namjoon’s weirded out expression, “What’s up?”

“Everybody is leaving, Jimin and Dahye already did with Hoseok after throwing up on three sofas.” Namjoon scoffs, rolling his eyes amusedly, “Anyway, see you in uni?”

Jeongguk has a few questions he’s afraid to know the answer to, but still he daps up his friend and then inevitably searches with his eyes for Eunbi, the reason for his worry. He knows Dahye, her usual ride home, will kill him if he lets her roommate wander off with some random men while drunk. Hell, he himself wouldn’t let that happen. He dislikes the girl, but he’s still human.

Jeongguk stresses even more when he sees her directed towards the exit with said guys. He completely disconnects from what the burgundy dressed girl is telling him, only picking up a “Can I get your number, though?”

Maybe it’s his guiltiness acting, or just him wanting to find a quick escape, but he does share his number in surely unanswered hope that she’s going to give up reaching out to him eventually. That does get her to part ways though, not before a sneaky kiss is left on his cheek. He really wants to kill Eunbi.

His next steps are directed towards her, ready to re-enact his previous success at getting rid of those beer stinking misogynists, but he’s left surprised, and in some sense relieved, when he sees her standing alone, arms wrapped around her small freezing figure with her phone to her ear. When he gets closer, he’s able to catch her muttering nasty remarks towards Dahye, so bad that he believes her roommate can feel them right now, in her probably passed out state and all.

”Fucking fuck, why is she not answering,” Before she can dial her number for the fifth time, she spots Jeongguk on her right, and for the first time since they saw each other again in years, she seems glad that he’s there, “Jeongguk!” Her voice is giddy, and he thinks he hasn’t heard his name being said like that in a long time.

Still, he keeps an unbothered act up while standing in front of her, hands in his jeans pockets, “Dahye went home already. I’m guessing she was your ride home.”

Now, he knows she’s overdramatic, but with alcohol flowing through her system that trait of her surely reaches its finite form. She lets out an incredulously loud gasp, mouth hanging and all, and whispers some more insults under her breath. When she still doesn’t reply, he listens more attentively to what she’s muttering and he latches on to her intention of going back home with a taxi, “I have 9,000 won on me, so that will probably do, Eunbi…”

He witnesses beyond belief the girl in front of him giving herself a whole encouraging speech before taking off onto the road, uncareful of eventual vehicles steering on it. That triggers his instinct, yelling her name. It unexpectedly but luckily stops her in her tracks, making her turn around with a not so pleased expression.

Jeongguk can’t believe what he’s offering to do while having to be met with that look on her face. Ugh, brat. “What the hell are you doing? C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

The laugh she lets out is so obnoxious and loud that a few people actually turn around startled, and Jeongguk has to literally sprint over to her, holding her wrist to bring her further away from the road and from the club’s entrance, “Shut up, God,” He whisper yells, while she seems to do the exact opposite.

It luckily stops at some point, but as if nothing ever happened she turns too serious too soon, ”You…” Her finger is pointed at Jeongguk’s chest in what seems to be a menacing manner, eyes narrowed and dipping into his, “You own that loud bike. I’m not getting on it. Not getting on it!” She yells that last sentence, making a scene as if she was trying to break free from Jeongguk’s hold, which he immediately drops, while still trying to get her to be quiet.

The genuinely desperate expression on the boy’s face is enough for her next move to be crouching in half, holding her stomach as unexpected laughter holds her body hostage once again, Jeongguk sighing unbelievably and regretting every single thought of his that led him to follow her outside.

”Can you please- be normal,” Jeongguk actually begs, bringing the girl up and noticing real tears around her eyes, smudging her glittery makeup. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, his expression clearly conveying that annoyment.

”You- You’re too funny,” She giggles, recovering from her sudden fit of laughter, which dies down slowly this time with her emitting a long sigh. The drunk girl shakes her head to herself, retrieving her phone once again and opening the Uber app. Jeongguk is having none of it.

”I’m being serious. I’m not letting you get a taxi at this hour. You’re getting on that loud bike, like it or not.” His firm statement is luckily not followed by chuckles, nor by a witty remark, just her snapping her head up with big eyes staring into his unsurely. He feels like having to deal with an eleven year old all over again, only this time his patience is running thin and he doesn’t feel like waiting.

The girl catches up to him, trying her best to keep up with his pace and following him closely to the vehicle that’s going to be her ride home tonight. She shivers, not only because she’s cold but also because she’s rethinking life choices. Eunbi scrambles to find anything to avoid what was bound to happen, her slow mind trying to come up with a quick escape and not even registering Jeongguk putting his jacket around her shoulders and securing the helmet under her chin, while she almost literally just stands there. “I’m sure-” she hiccups, “I’m sure that blonde girl would love to be in my position right now.”

That is not at all how it was supposed to come out nor sound, the confusion evident on the boy’s face being met with horror written in the girl’s expression. She stutters, “I meant, like- you should be taking her home.”

A part of his brain notes the fact that she was also observing him from a distance not too long ago inside the club, but he leaves that thought for his late night thinking. Right now, he chuckles amusedly, sitting on his bike while adjusting his hair, “Hop on. It won’t kill you.”

The possibility of the bike killing her almost does it for her, until she remembers the other option. Having to pay for an Uber at 4 a.m. while too drunk to even formulate a senseful sentence. In front of her instead, a free ride by no one other than the boy she’s been shamelessly avoiding for no reason, too scared to actually confront him. What a great second option.

Still, she balances herself using his shoulders and gets on the bike, not knowing where to put her hands next. That thought seems to be registering at the same time in Jeongguk’s head, who revs the engine, “I suggest you hold onto me.”

Eunbi scoffs, shoving her straightened hair back in a sassy manner, “There’s no way in hell-“ Her remark is abruptly interrupted by a loud squeal, followed by her arms wrapping around his torso in under one millisecond, with Jeongguk suddenly taking off at full speed.

He laughs a genuine one, and that gets the scared girl pissed beyond hell, yelling in his ear about how she hates his guts with her hands almost close to groping his pecs. Can you blame her? They’re the closest thing she can hold on to right now to survive.

He does slow down, as does his laughter and her screaming, but then as he rounds the club he spots the men who had been bothering Eunbi at the beginning of the night intent on crossing the street. He figures he can play a bit more before actually stopping sabotaging the girl in the back’s health. Just a little something to get back at them for their comments. So, he zooms right past them, cutting their way suddenly and almost probably going over one of their toes, their incredulous yelling and remarks being music for his ears, joined by the girl he’s taking home as she screams more insults at him, looking back at the angered men getting further as Jeongguk drives away.

”Are you trying to take my life?” She’s almost voiceless as she tries to make herself heard over the engine, squeezing Jeongguk’s waist in genuine fear. All she gets back from the biker is a giggle, and a tap on her knee, “Sorry. They deserved it. You can relax now.”

As suspicious as she may have been initially, he didn’t lie. The rest of the ride is pleasant, slow driving while a sweet summer breeze brushes her face and makes her hair flow with the wind. No one dares break the moment, not even at red lights when the only sound that can be heard over the silence is the growling motor. Eunbi is glad Jeongguk knows the way to her flat, having already been there with the others for a few house parties she and Dahye hosted. That means she can just zone out in the back, her head resting on Jeongguk’s shoulders, and right in this moment she doesn’t regret almost risking her life, the sight of the city flashing past her making her forget all about it.

When Jeongguk can feel the grip around his torso getting loose, he taps her knee twice, afraid she might be falling asleep. He’s proved right when that gesture gets her to suddenly shake her head, muttering some noises and tightening her hold around him again. He smiles, ”We’re almost home, don’t fall asleep on me.”

Indeed, the sight of her building comes to view shortly after, Jeongguk stopping in front of it and waiting for his backpack to get off the bike. When she does, she stumbles slightly, seemingly gaining consciousness of her surroundings again. Jeongguk notices she completely wrapped herself in his leather jacket, figures she was probably freezing to death in that short dress of hers. Thinks it’s a cute sight. Regrets having a brain right after.

Said cute sight struggles to take off the helmet, Jeongguk itching to help her, but she succeeds unexpectedly without any help. Still no word being uttered by any of the two, with her hair a tangled mess, she gets close to him and repeats the same actions Jeongguk did to her earlier, handing his jacket back and putting the helmet around his head. When she’s done she pats it, then takes a step back.

A simple ride home on Jeongguk’s bike seems to have opened a black hole of unsaid truths, being communicated by their eyes just staring at each other. None of them is ready to voice them out, though. Eunbi clears her throat, pulling the hem of her dress down as a habit, clearly out of embarrassment. Then, she fixes her locks, “That’s very dangerous, you know?”

Jeongguk hums questionly, moving some of his bangs out of his vision and clearly seeing goosebumps rising on the girl’s skin, unsure of why she prefers trying to converse after minutes of silence over warming up in her flat.

“You giving me your helmet and your jacket. What if you hurt yourself?” She keeps muttering some more remarks under her breath, probably slander reserved just for him this time. He can make out a dumbass. What a nerve.

She may be right, though. Without his jacket on, he was only covered by a tight black shirt, nothing on his head to save him from any eventuality he doesn’t want to consider. Still, he clearly doesn’t see why he wouldn’t have preferred to protect her instead of himself, but he doesn’t exactly say that, “If I didn’t do that, you would have been a popsicle by now.”

The girl giggles, proving him right when she wraps her arms around her figure, “So, you do this for every girl? What if one of them gets you killed?”

Jeongguk scoffs amusedly, shaking his head at her implication, but deciding to ignore it, “The only one who got me close to that was you.” He only says that to gain one of her too over the top reactions, and he’s glad when she furrows her brows, hanging her mouth and bringing a hand to her chest. He chuckles, “If anything you should be thanking me.”

The usually over dramatic girl now just nods, taking in the smile on his face and grasping the fact that it hasn’t been directed at her in a long time before this moment. She smiles too, “Yeah, huh… Thanks. For the ride. ‘T was nice.”

Jeongguk figures the wind must have dried up almost all the alcohol from Eunbi’s body, because she seems to be realising, just as he is, how close they have gotten to one another while ignoring the huge elephant in the room, her attitude being way less sassy and picky with this knowledge. Fazed by this sudden but obvious realisation, he only nods.

The girl quickly notices the change in his demeanour and she nervously bites her lower lip, aware their dynamic is going to return to cold stares and unacknowledgement, but still wanting to hold onto this moment even for one more second. “Oh,” her chest jumps in some sort of gasp, realising she still has something else to thank him for, “Thanks for earlier. You know, with those guys. I appreciated it.”

Differently from Eunbi, Jeongguk wants to be done with this pretence already. As soon as he found himself getting too lost in the fantasy of them still being friends, he quickly recovered and put the wall up high again, making the distance between them even farther than it was before. He doesn’t miss the sadness in her eyes when that shift happens, but he also doesn’t want to dwell too much on it, his tone unbothered all of the sudden while his eyes convey a different story, “No problem. Get inside.”

She nods, giving him a tight lipped smile, turning around slowly and making her way to the front door of the building. She expects to hear the roaring of the bike’s engine, but the only sound that can be heard is that of the birds waking up and singing their morning songs.

Jeongguk stays in his spot on the bike until he sees the girl enter the block, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding and then securing the helmet under his chin. Pats it, then immediately retreats his hand. “Dumbass,” That’s his signal he needs to get home as soon as possible and get some sleep, already imagining how difficult such a simple task will be with his mind running a hundred miles per hour. Fucking Bee.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 2

Chapter summary: Tensions rise during a church fundraiser, unexpected closeness with Joel begins to blur the lines between what’s right and wrong.

A/N: It took me so long to post this, school has been killing me lately, my sincerest apologies. This is a fun little chapter, wrote it a while back. I’m currently writing chapter 4 and I can’t wait for you guys to read that one. I hope you enjoy this 🤍

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, some accidental physical contact lol

Series masterlist

Two days after the barbeque, you’re woken up by the gentle touch of your dad stroking your hair.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he says almost in a whisper

You squint at the clock on your nightstand, its red numbers flashing in the dim morning light. The faint glow through your curtains barely illuminates your dad’s face. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong, kiddo. Just wanted to let you know I’m off to that church fundraiser we told you about. They need me and Joel to help with setting up lights and whatnot. Didn’t know if you’d wanna come”

You groan, rolling onto your back and closing your eyes. “Dad, it's 6:30 a.m on a Sunday. The only thing I wanna do right now is burrow myself in this bed for at least three more hours.”

He chuckles softly, standing up from where he was crouching next to your bed. “Alright, you’ll have to help your mom with the baking then. She’s gonna be selling all those pastries today and I bet she could use a sous-chef”

Before he can make it any closer to the door, you sit up in your bed and rub your eyes “I’m up. Be down in 5”

You cradle a hot cup of coffee to your chest, the summer heat creeping in very slowly this early in the morning. Your first stop is Joel’s house and even the struggle to keep your eyes open doesn’t distract you from the nervous flutter in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

You've been doing mental gymnastics, trying your damn hardest to keep your mind off of him, convincing yourself this is just a silly fixation and will pass as soon as you get used to seeing him around. Just push through it, and eventually, your heart will get the memo.

Your dad pulls up to his driveway and parks right next to his truck. The front door is in your direct line of sight when Joel opens it, carrying a couple boxes and a toolbelt slung over his shoulder. You have to make a conscious effort to not stare at his arms, at how big they get whenever he carries heavy things around—that proves to be a lot harder when he’s walking in a straight line towards you.

Thankfully, your dad gets out of the car to help, sparing you from further gawking. You hear him ask if there are any boxes left inside and from the way he heads back towards the house, you guess the answer is yes.You roll your window down to ask if he needs any help just as those strong arms you were trying to ignore rest themselves on the window frame.

“You didn’t strike me as an early bird.” Joel says, his eyes now leveled with yours, much closer than you had been two days ago.

Your cheeks betray you, flushing a shade of red that now feels reserved for him. “Do I strike you as my mom’s baking assistant for the entire day?” you retort, a grin sneaking onto your face.

You’d be lying through your teeth if you said you weren’t trying to earn another one of those earth shattering chuckles with your comment. Turns out you’re pretty good at it, because a second later he’s dropping his head, a low rumbly chuckle escaping him. “I reckon you don’t.”

His eyes come back up to meet yours, holding for a beat longer than they probably should, like he’s giving you one more tiny bread crumb to follow the trail, to figure out the riddle. Or maybe you’re just losing your mind, which is entirely possible.

Just when the tension between you two is about to reach a breaking point, your dad reappears with more boxes.

“A little help, pal? It wouldn’t kill ya,” he calls out, breaking the spell.

As your dad parks the car in front of the church, you spot Mrs. Calloway, the lively old lady you spoke to at the barbecue, waving energetically. The early morning sun casts long shadows across the church’s lawn, the air carrying the faint smell of freshly-cut grass.

“Oh good, you’re here!” she greets the three of you as you step out of the car.

“Mornin’, Mrs. Calloway. How’s the day treatin’ you?” your dad asks, hauling open the truck's tailgate.

“Oh, busy, so much to do. I see you brought me an extra pair of hands here,” she says, sidling up to you and giving your arm a friendly squeeze.

“Yeah, he was very convincing, couldn’t refuse the invite,” you reply with a polite smile. You've taken a real liking to Mrs. Calloway. She never talks about your parents when she chats with you. Instead, she asks about your life or shares stories about her cats—which is a refreshing change of pace.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t, pumpkin. I have a bunch of decorations to put up inside.” She leans in closer and half-whispers, “And for all their virtues, I wouldn’t trust these ones with decorating if it was my last day on earth.”

You can’t help but giggle just as a voice comes from the back of the truck. “Heard that.”

You turn to see Joel balancing a couple boxes with practiced ease “Is she wrong?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

He grins, shaking his head. “No, she’s very right.”

“Oh, Joel could help you out” Mrs. Calloway suggests. “There are some pretty big containers stuffed in the back of the storage room with everything you’ll need. Why don’t you go grab them while we start setting up the tables out here?”

“You got it,” you say, trying to wave away the thought of being alone with Joel again.

You walk into the church with Joel trailing just behind, his presence is a comforting warmth against the cool morning air. The quiet of the church envelops you both, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly. You spot a door in the back corner “That’s the one?”

“That’s the one.” Joel confirms, taking the lead as you reach the storage room.

Inside, you find a mountain of containers piled up against the wall, with big brown boxes and plastic bags teetering on top.

“So, how many of these do we need?” you ask, hoping to distract yourself from how close he is.

“Just a couple to start with,” Joel replies, handing you one of the containers. “We’ll come back if we need more.”

You both carry the containers out of the storage room, the clatter of plastic echoing through the empty church hall.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Joel says, setting his container down and opening it. You follow suit, pulling out strings of lights, banners, and a variety of festive decorations.

“I didn’t think we’d be doing arts and crafts today,” you joke, unfurling a particularly colorful garland.

Joel smiles. “Yeah, not exactly my forte, but we’ll make it work.”

You pick a banner out of the container, large enough to hang from one column to the other, and spot metal hooks screwed all the way up—clearly where it’s meant to go.

You notice a small ladder pushed against a corner and leave Joel’s side to fetch it.

He only seems to notice what you’re up to once he hears the ladder scraping against the column

“Leave it, I'll take care of that.”

“Oh, don’t give me that. I’m not a lady in distress, I can hang up a banner on my own, Joel.” You reply stepping up on the ladder trying to test out its stability with a little bounce

“I know you can darlin’, but I’d rather do it myself. That ladder—”

“The ladder is fine, Joel. Go back to untangling those lights.” You’re not quite sure what you’re trying to prove – maybe this was an attempt at stripping away that childish image he had of you.

He disregards your comment and walks right to your side, his hands slightly stretched out like he's preparing to catch you.

“You’re being so dramatic,” you say climbing to the highest point of the ladder.

Sure, it’s old but if it held up this long it could hold for a little bit longer. “See? I’m just fine, I just gotta hook this up here…”

As if on cue, the ladder starts creaking ominously just as you stretch your arm out to reach the hook. Not half a second later, the rusty metal piece that was holding all your weight up snaps and Joel’s arms wrap around your body, pulling you safely against his chest.

For the second time that day, you could say that was the closest to Joel you’ve ever been. His face just inches away from yours, both arms holding you securely, the woody, musky scent your brain had labeled as uniquely his, overwhelming your senses.

Words failed you as you stared into those deep brown eyes, and every part of you wanted to believe it was just the shock of the fall, but it was getting harder and harder to keep shamelessly lying to yourself.

When he finally breaks the silence, it’s pretty much a lost battle. “Will you stop being so stubborn and let me help you now?”

“Favorite color”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Joel chuckles once again, and at this point, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve pulled that off. With Joel Miller, even a small chuckle feels like a major accomplishment.

After spending the entire morning decorating the inside of the church (most of which you spent explaining to him he couldn’t mix the red decorations with the green ones because it wasn’t christmas), you were both assigned raffle duty. You sold the tickets and Joel put them in the big raffle draw, using the lever to mix them up as he went.

The two of you sat behind a little stand, and in your best attempt to hear as much as you could of that sweet, caramel-y drawl, you convinced him to play twenty-questions. Each of you took turns asking the other whatever popped into your heads, and the other had to answer honestly.

Your questions ranged from what animal he would choose to turn into if he could shapeshift at will, to his favorite subjects back in high school, and even who in your family he would take to a deserted island if he knew he’d have to partner up to make it out alive. (He picked you, obviously. Your dad was terrible at functioning in high pressure situations). His questions on the other hand had been generic at best, deadly boring at worst.

You leaned back in your chair, the wooden slats creaking under your weight, and gave him a playful glare.

“You said any question that popped into my head,” he defends himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh and you’re dying to know my favorite color, are you?” you ask back, dripping with sarcasm.

“I’ll lose sleep over it if you don’t tell me” his voice gets low and serious in complete contrast to how ridiculous his statement is.

“Blue,” you admit, “but not the default shade of blue everyone thinks of, more like a ‘clear water lake’ kind of blue” you look back at him and he just kind of stares, like he's too distracted by you to even register the answer to his question. “What’s your’s?” you ask, pulling him out of his trance.

“Brown.”

You laugh at his answer.

“Something funny?” he asks

“Only you, Joel Miller, would have brown as your favorite color.”

“It’s a perfectly normal favorite color.” He says defensively, a little frown creasing his features.

“Joel, it’s the most boring of colors, it’s not even a color in itself, it's all the colors mushed together.” you giggle at the absurdity of the conversation, leaning in closer, enjoying the banter more than you care to admit.

“It’s practical, goes well with everything, looks good in any house—an easy, simple color.”

“But your favorite color isn’t supposed to be about practicality, it’s supposed to be about which one you like the most.” You argue back.

“You tryna tell me how to pick my own favorite color, kid?” he teases you, receiving only a death stare in return.The warmth in his eyes makes your heart skip. “Fine, it’s green.”

“See? That's a normal favorite color”

“Yeah, and you’re a piece a’ work.” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips that tells you he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

Just like that, Joel Miller makes the rest of the day easy to get through. Even with the awkward feeling of being an outsider, looking through a window into a room full of people who’ve known each other their whole lives, he manages to ground you. He’s either pulling you into senseless conversation or letting you bask in a comfortable silence, and both feel like a lifeline.

By the end of the day, you walk around helping Ms. Calloway clear out the tables, throw all the empty cups and disposable plates into a trash back and group up the chairs so your dad can take them back inside.

During one of your ‘picking up leftover trash’ rounds, you see your mom standing next to Joel’s truck. He’s right beside her loadingback up the tools he’d brought with him this morning. You knew Joel was a lot colder and closed off with other people—that's what earned him his grump reputation in the first place—but in the short time you’ve been around him since you came back, you’ve never seen him be so stiff around anyone like he is with your mom.

That is certainly a rare sight, given your mom was one to charm any and everyone who crossed her path. Pageant queen, cheerleader, hair larger than life type—your mom is a sight for sore eyes, even you have to admit that. It was hard to engage in conversation with her and not be dazzled by her looks and also by her bubbly personality, or the persona she put on for others at least. It almost seemed like she hadn’t been told no once in her entire life.

But Joel seemed immune to it, no warm smile on his face, no polite small talk, not even gentleman-like behavior beyond the strictly necessary. In fact, something in his face told you he couldn’t wait to get on his truck and leave. He stands with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, every line of his body screaming discomfort.

You watch the two of them from a distance, your mom batting her eyelashes up at him, her body leaning towards him slightly, trying to close the gap he’s so obviously desperate to maintain. Meanwhile, Joel looks like he’s doing everything in his power to keep his distance, stepping closer and closer to his truck’s tailgate. His jaw is set like stone, eyes flicking to the side as if searching for an escape route, and you can almost see the tension radiating off him in waves.

Your mom leans in closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thinks is a conspiratorial whisper. Even from a distance, you can see Joel’s eyes narrow, a flicker of something like annoyance passing over his face before he schools his expression back to neutral.

An unshakable uneasiness tugs at your chest that won't allow you to walk away, against your best instincts you decide to barge in.

“Hey, Mom!” you chirp, sliding right up next to Joel. “I think Mrs. Calloway is looking for you. Something about the pies?”

Your mom turns to you with a bright smile, though there’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that’s hard to miss. “Oh, I’m sure she can manage without me for a moment,” she says, but you can tell she’s not thrilled about being interrupted.

Joel gives you a grateful look, his eyes meeting yours with a silent thanks. You catch a slight relaxation in his shoulders, like he’s the one being thrown a lifeline this time.

“Actually, Mom, she seemed really insistent,” you retort, trying to sell the urgency of the situation. “You know… with the wrapping things up and all.”

Your mom hesitates, her gaze flicking between you and Joel. Finally, she relents with a sigh, though the look she gives you says this conversation is far from over. “Alright, I’ll go see what she needs. But we’re not done talking about this, Joel,” she says, her voice carrying an edge that makes your skin crawl, before turning on her heel and striding away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Joel exhales a long breath. He extends you one more polite nod and jumps into the truck without another word. You don’t like the feeling it gives you, not one bit.

Before you can dwell too much in your thoughts, you hear your mom’s voice calling your name, and you turn to see her motioning for you to join her. Here comes the earful.

With a resigned sigh, you make your way over to her, bracing for the inevitable.

“Sweetheart,” she begins in a voice that’s both sugar and vinegar, “you really shouldn’t interrupt when adults are talking. It’s important to know your place.”

You nod, biting back the retort on the tip of your tongue. “I know, Mom. I just thought you might want to check on Mrs. Calloway.”

She narrows her eyes, as if trying to read your mind. “If you go around behaving like a heathen, it reflects poorly on me. You’d do well to remember that.”

You stare back at her, head high and an unfaltering cool facade. She used to intimidate you, this tone used to make you feel so small and insignificant, but it doesn’t anymore. Hasn’t for a good while now. “Got it,” you reply, forcing a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[aquaquadrant]

I’m having thoughts again (the horror). You may have answered this before and I just can’t remember or find it buuuuuut

Is/was there ever a dragon in Hels? If there was could they spawn it in again or is she just dead?

“a dragon?” the player huffs a laugh, giving you an odd look. “you know dragons aren’t real, right? it’s just fantasy shit, like the sun and moon.” they shrug. “anyway, uh, if- if you’re not gonna buy somethin’ then stop wasting my fucking time and get the hell out.”

~*~

“ah, i see you’re a fellow intellectual.” the player nods sagely. “data analysis has found plenty of evidence supporting the existence of an ‘end dragon’, through communicator codes such as ID tags for items called ‘dragon’s breath,’ ‘dragon head’, and ‘dragon egg’, not to mention the achievement ‘free the end’, which is supposedly earned after slaying this dragon. so while we can only extrapolate so much from nonfunctional comm commands, i’d say the idea of a dragon existing in other worlds is quite substantiated.”

they pause.

“did hels ever have one? well, that’s the question, isn’t it. while the existence of glitched end chunks throughout hels has been proven on multiple occasions, no one’s ever found an end island with the obsidian pillars required to spawn and sustain a dragon. of course, it’s possible someone found it long ago and destroyed it, or perhaps no one’s found it yet, or perhaps it exists in a different form entirely. if you look at how biomes spawn in hels…”

~*~

“what, hels ain’t bad enough for you as it is?” the player wheezes, shaking their head. “kid, if there’s a dragon in hels, you’re better off if you never meet it. we got enough problems without throwin’ a damned dragon into the mix, ya hear?”

~*~

“never heard of such a thing. seems like nonsense.” the player hefts their axe onto their shoulder. “now, move along before i kill you.”

~*~

“there was a dragon in hels, yeah,” the player says nonchalantly. “this old player took me in when i was a kid, used to tell me stories. i mean, he never saw it. it was more of a ‘i know this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who knew this guy who heard that someone saw it’ kinda deal… well? do you wanna hear it or not?”

they smirk.

“… that’s what i thought. so yeah, it was this massive red dragon- or uh, maybe it was like orange with red flames on its scales, fucking sick, right- with huge teeth and insane fire breath and… actually, it might’ve been acid? or poison? fuck, whatever, the point is that the thing was nasty, alright, it used to swoop down on the early settlements and mow those motherfuckers down, eating players- or, wait, i think maybe it would just throw them? uh, i dunno how but- wait, where you goin’? hey, this is valuable information, you know! … fine, whatever, asshole.”

~*~

“how the hel should i know?” the player demands, folding their arms. “this world’s infinite and old as balls, and we don’t exactly have a consistent method of widespread information distribution. someone could’ve killed it yesterday and i’d have no fucking clue.”

~*~

“yeah, there was.” the player nods. “it was before my time, but i heard our admin killed it. whoever the fuck they were… makes no difference to me, but it’s a cool thought, right?”

~*~

“hm. been a long time since someone asked me that.” the player leans forward, eyes flickering in the firelight. their gaze is haunted. “are you sure you wanna know?”

they pause.

“… alright, then.”

“now, this was back in the early days of hels, long enough ago that some of the oldest players still remembered havin’ an admin. we didn’t even know ‘bout the end chunks. then one day, there was this sound. every player in the world heard it, no matter where they were. it was louder than any thunderstorm, louder than any explosion- the kinda sound that goes clean through you, splits your ears and rattles your bones.”

“it was a scream, only not like any i’d ever heard before. there was a raw, guttural quality to it- like a wounded animal- yet the power was undeniable. but there was some distortion to it as well; an underpinning of static like the whole thing was bein’ broadcast through a beat-up jukebox. just thinkin’ of it sends chills down my spine.”

“then a peculiar thing popped up in chat. someone had made an achievement, only we couldn’t tell who or what. all the text was scrambled, like those funny words you see on an enchantment table. never met anyone who could read it. but needless to say, this sparked an entire movement bent on discoverin’ what the hell had happened.”

“some of the more adventurous players went explorin’ and found the end chunks. players who knew a thing or two about data analysis started huntin’ through their comms, usin’ the data of an endstone block someone brought back. didn’t take long after that to figure it out.”

“they found there was a dragon that belonged to a separate realm from overworld and nether. the end, they surmised. y’know, where endermen came from. the dragon lived there, sustained by end crystals that were said to float atop obsidian pillars on the end island it called home- its nest, as it were. so, unsurprisingly, it was called the ender dragon.”

“and if you killed it, you opened a portal. where it’d lead was anyone’s guess, but it was a way out of hels.”

“i was young, then. young and hungry. i banded up with some other players and we consulted an expert- the founder of data analysis, actually- to extrapolate the coordinates for the main end island. only he didn’t find just one; he found ten sets of coords, spread out over hundreds of thousands of blocks, nearly a million blocks. he predicted that each obsidian pillar had spawned on a separate end chunk, and that each one would have to be tracked down to kill the dragon. we had to destroy the crystals first, you see. he thought it was a waste of time, a fool’s errand, but we didn’t listen. so we split up, takin’ one set of coords each, and set off.”

“they were all ‘bout the same distance from each other, so no one had an easier go of it. i took one northeast of spawn, seven hundred and twenty-nine thousand blocks out. the journey took years. not sure exactly how many, i stopped keepin’ count sometime after the fifth. the other players on the mission gradually stopped replyin’ to my whispers- i think some of ‘em gave up and turned back. wasn’t sure if i was the only one still goin’, ‘til i eventually saw their death messages in chat, one by one. mobs, lava, fall damage, the usual. some might’ve died on the way; traversin’ hels alone on foot is no cake walk, even without the concern of PVP. never heard from any of ‘em again.”

“but i’d gone so far that givin’ up wasn’t an option. even if no one else had made it to their pillar and destroyed the crystal, even if killin’ the dragon would be impossible, i had to see it through. so i kept goin’. it was a lonesome existence, bein’ that far from spawn; i went months without sayin’ a single word, at times, damn near lost my mind. but it weren’t all bad. i reached the unloaded chunks, saw naturally-spawned passive mobs for the first time in my life. i saw rare biomes i’d never heard of, even came across one of those glitched end ships with an elytra. journey went quicker, after that, but it was still several years before i finally reached the coords.”

“the pillar was exactly what you’d expect. a tall, round obelisk made of solid obsidian, rooted on a floatin’ chunk of an endstone island. there were some endermen millin’ about the place, far more than in any other biome i’d seen- ‘cept maybe the warped jungles- but no sign of the dragon. the crystal was at the very top of the pillar in an iron cage, so i flew on up there, thinking at least i’d do what i came to do.”

“soon as i set foot on the top of the pillar, i heard a strange sound. it was that little zippin’ sound you hear when an enderman teleports- only it was a louder, deeper, slower sound that seemed to shake the world. like i could actually hear the distortion of space and time itself. the air suddenly filled with a haze of purple particles, so thick i could hardly see, move, or breathe.”

“and then she appeared.”

“the dragon was all black, black as the void ‘neath bedrock, with spines down her back and huge, bat-like wings, deadly sharp teeth and claws. she was big enough to swallow me whole and we both knew it. but what really put me off was that she was glitched.”

“it’s the best way i can describe it. her body was flickerin’ around all crazy-like as if i’d gone cross-eyed, so she appeared in multiples at times, countless wings unfurlin’ from the distorted mass. anywhere i looked directly at her would suddenly seem… pixelated, almost, like her form was fracturin’ into pieces, like i couldn’t fully ‘preciate the whole. but i remember her eyes. they were pure white, so bright it hurt to look at ‘em, and as she moved they seemed to blink in and out of existence around her, like they couldn’t quite settle in her skull. like twinklin’ stars against the night sky, beyond the bedrock ceiling.”

“she was beautiful.”

“the dragon perched against the tower, claws grippin’ the obsidian on either side of me, curled her slender neck down ‘til we were face-to-face, and roared. it had that same quality as that sound i’d heard all those years ago, and i knew at once it’d been her death rattle. in my daze, i remember wonderin’ who could’ve possibly managed to kill such a creature? what kinda player would even want to?”

“i’d been well-prepared for the fight. full enchanted gear, potions, gapples. but starin’ up at her, i couldn’t bring myself to use any of it. i just stared at her, caught in a moment that felt like an eternity as she stared back, before i realized her breath was poison.”

“i ended up back at the world spawn. didn’t matter i’d set a respawn anchor nearby the end island- this seemed to overwrite it. lost everythin’, of course, but i didn’t care. my death message in the chat was glitched, too, in that same strange language. now, i didn’t share my experience with the rest of the world; only to those who asked, and only in the hopes of dissuadin’ them from makin’ an attempt of their own.”

“which brings us to the end.” the player finally sits back, studying you with a shrewd gaze. “now, you listen to me. that dragon ain’t somethin’ to be killed, understand?”

you nod.

“good.” the player’s expression changes. “so, i’m afraid you’re not gonna like the next part of the story. but nothin’s free in this world, least of all knowledge.”

the player moves, there’s a flash of metal, and suddenly there’s a sword in your gut. engrossed in the story, you hadn’t even noticed them equip it.

“sorry,” the player tells you with a grin, “but that dragon ain’t the only monster here. send my regards to spawn.”

as darkness consumes you, your last thought is that the white spots dancing across your vision suddenly look like dragon eyes, blinking from the void.

~*~

[stop-talking]

No Abby, we're not getting ice cream.

Silly little fic about Mike and Abby going shopping. (Mike's POV)

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: Mike & Abby, bonding, sibling love, fluff, Mike's POV, pre-movie.

This is just a cute little one-off about Mike being the single mother he is. I love him.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mike watched as Abby swung a leg over the side of the shopping cart and climbed in. She was getting a little too big for this, taking up nearly the entire cart. Oh well. Not like he could afford to buy much anyways.

"Okay Abbs, remind me what we're here for?" He asked, giving the cart a solid push to get it rolling.

"Dinner."

"And that means?"

"No asking for junk." Abby droned the words off in a monotone voice, and gave him a flat look. She didn't like to go shopping unless there was something in it for her, Mike knew, but he didn't exactly have anyone home to watch her.

"Here, you wanna hold the list for me?" He offered her a little yellow notepad and a pen from his pocket in an attempt to cheer her up. She eyed him for a moment, then snatched it up and started to doodle on the shopping list.

Mike sighed as he looked down at his little sister. Yeah, she was definitely a little too old to be in the buggy. She stopped fitting in the little seat up front years ago, so now she sat in the main area, legs scrunched to make room for groceries.

He probably should let her walk, but she had a tendency to... wander. And give Mike heart attacks. He always spent too long deciding what to get, or so Abby had told him. Sometimes he'd get lost in thought while calculating the best deal on a can of soup or the like, and realize too late that Abby was no longer by his side.

This usually resulted in him running through the isles and yelling her name, much to Abby's embarrassment. Hell, it embarrassed him too, but he'd rather be embarrassed than end up losing her.

"Hellooo, Mike? Earth to Mike?"

He snapped back into focus as Abby impatiently tapped the metal shopping cart with her pen.

"You passed, like, three things we need. Turn around."

Mike huffed and turned the cart around as dramatically as possible, slinging his sister back with the sudden change in direction. He got weird looks from a couple other shoppers, but it earned him a laugh from Abby, so he didn't care.

"What did I miss? Onions?" He tried to lean over and peek at the grocery list as he wheeled the cart back towards the produce section.

"Hey! You said I could hold the list." Abby held the yellow notepad to her chest protectively, determined not to let him see it.

"Fine. But no funny business. We're only getting what I wrote on there, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just take us that way." Abby waved a dismissive hand in the general direction she wanted him to go, and Mike listened.

"Potatoes, onions, and... co... ca... con...?" She squinted at the list, struggling to read one of the words.

"Carrots." Mike corrected her, already putting a bag of potatoes into the cart.

"Your handwriting is terrible. Aren't grown-ups supposed to write better than toddlers?"

"Maybe you could read it better if you hadn't drawn all over the list already."

Abby stuck her tongue out at him, and the corners of Mike's mouth twinged up into a slight smile.

"Where to next, little lady?"

"The... can isle?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"Just push the cart, mule."

Mike stopped smiling at that. Brat.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"You want corn or peas tonight?" Mike held out two cans to Abby, who pointed to the corn. He dropped it into the cart.

"Can we get soup too?" She reached out to grab a can, but Mike was already wheeling her into the next isle.

"We have some at home."

"Yeah, cream of mushroom. Who even eats that?"

"You do. Every time I make casserole."

"...gross."

Mike chucked to himself as they rounded the corner into the freezer section.

"What did we need from here again?"

Abby quickly scanned the list, they were most of the way through it now.

"Fish sticks... and ice cream."

Mike paused. One of those things was definetly not on the list.

"Abby. We're not getting ice cream."

"But it's on the list!" She held up the grocery list, which she'd apparently made many edits to. It has little doodles all over it, some items have been crossed off, and she'd added a couple things of her own.

Before he could argue back, a young girl, probably around five years or so, pointed and shouted something at Abby.

"Look, Mommy! Isn't she too old for the buggy?"

The girl's mother, who looked truly mortified, tugged the girl along by her arm and hissed something about it being rude to point.

Abby stuck her tongue out at the little girl, but Mike turned to her mother. She looked tired. He could understand that. He could also understand raising a little hellspawn.

He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he must not have done a very good job. The woman just turned and sped off, dragging her child around the corner and out of sight. Damnit.

"Chocolate or strawberry?" While he wasn't looking, Abby had leaned over the side of the cart and poked through the freezer.

"Chocolate." He finally relented, sighing as his little sister happily placed a carton of ice cream in the cart. Oh well. They hadn't bought any in a month or so.

"Thanks Mike! You're the best!" Abby blinked up at him with a false innocence. He saw through her little act.

"Yeah, yeah. We're not getting any other unnecessary crap." He grumbled, but still found it hard to fight back a smile. Why did she have to be so cute, even when she got on his nerves?

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

They bought other unnecessary crap.

Two boxes of cereal, a bag of chips, and a half-gallon of chocolate milk later, Mike blinked down at the total. Nearly fifteen dollars over budget. Damnit.

He handed the lady at the register a few bills with a tired smile. Oh well. He'd just skip lunch at work for the next couple days to make up for it. Mall food was over-priced anyways.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Do the thing!" Abby pleaded with him, making a truly pitiful pout as he pushed the cart out of store, with her still in it.

"What thing?"

"You know. The thing."

Mike rolled his eyes, but complied. He put one foot on the underside of the cart, and used the other to push off, sending it flying through the parking lot. Abby squealed in delight, which made him smile.

The damn thing would probably tip over if she wasn't sitting on the opposite end to balance things out. As it rattled through the uneven pavement, It teetered, as if threatening to do just that.

"Don't get used to this." Mike started, scraping his shoe along the pavement to slow them as they approached his beat-up Honda Accord.

"We're not getting all this junk next time."

Abby pretended his scolding got through to her, hanging her head as she helped him load groceries into the car.

Mike pretended to believe his words too, but he knew as well as she did that their next shopping trip would go much the same way.

Brat.

‐---------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Thanks for all the love on my last fanfic?? Part one got 100 notes?? I'll post the first chapter of a Derek Danforth fic soon, so stick around. I just had this in my drafts for the past few days. I love Mike & Abby's relationship so much <3

[shinjisdone]

If it's possible can I get a f!mc with Riddle? As in the events like how you did with deuce. Take your time.

Choosing this one first since Ive been dealing with quite a few things recently and this is the easiest one for me.

The Thorfinn one is gonna be next

Excellent cuz I actually thought about making a Riddle Version ^^

Might have gone overboard so pls treat this as another part of the female!MC and friends series and as a request ^^

tried to focus on the 'female!MC' part but lotsa things ended up pretty neutral...

TW: Mentions of Riddle's strict diet introduced by his mother and his hesitancy to eat food as well as counting calories in the 'When He Cooks For You...' Part

Female!MC and Friends - Riddle Rosehearts

Oh, the upright and feared Riddle Rosehearts.

Let's not talk about his first meeting and overblot 'cause there he was just c r a zy.

It's after a while after things and he have calmed down where he can even approach you and properly 'meet' you for the first time. Riddle cannot believe how careless he was that he noticed only just now that you are a girl in an all-boys-academy - the only one here probably as well.

His first thought was: 'This breaks a rule.'

But he is quick to scold and correct himself. This kind of thinking earned him the most embarrassing and stressful meltdown he has ever experienced. Clearly no one got out happy with this kind of thinking.

Not Riddle. Not his dorm. Maybe only his mother...

In secret, there were some rules he didn't like...

He likes to have milk in his tea. He likes chestnuts in his sweets...and he would like to have free time to spend with his friends...

He is sure you would like to have that, too.

When You Are Invited To The Unbirthday Party...

Well, this most likely happens after the overblot, as an apology.

It is also the first Unbirthady Party you have been invited to.

It will most likely go as it did in the game...and Riddle is apologizing to you too, since you got dragged into his mess as a bystander.

As a new student! You just got here at NRC and have had to deal with his mess, his problems.

You also helped Ace make the 'apology' nut tart...so you definitely deserve an apology.

There might be a bit of confusion within the normal Heartslabyul dormmates who do not know you...they might also notice that you are a girl.

There might be a few whispers in a group on what you are doing here. It can be hard to notice if someone is magicless on first glance but it can be easy to notice a girl, if you present yourself as such in a way.

There is a sliiiiight chance you are gonna get asked about or talked to about this. If there are some negative claims or responses to you being at NRC or at the party, Riddle will be sure to correct them quickly.

"Do not disregard anyone here! She is still a guest!"

Riddle will go back to his old habit and the students will nervously ask if that is a rule.

"No, not a rule," He softens his voice, "It goes without saying that no one shall be misjudged or disregarded, no matter who they are!"

Continuing his apology, he will treat everyone for a bit. He will ask what tea you like (you can have any tea, no matter the rule!) and if you'd like to play with the hedgehogs (he can turn a blind eye for that one today).

You can take advantage of it like Ace totally did/would. Or you could be considerate of his...weird overblot situation.

At the former he will be annoyed but allow it ONLY FOR TODAY, and for the second one, he will be perplexed but decides, yeah, he should gracefully accept your kindness.

Riddle will make sure to treat you equally, in and out of Heartslabyul.

But, if he finds himself fond of you, favoritism might follow...

When He Cooks For You...

Cooking is...hard.

Riddle truly wants to improve. If he likes you, he could try cooking for you to taste-test his dishes. He doesn't wanna go through the oyster-sauce-situation again...

Depending on your own skills, he might ask for a liiiittle bit of help. What is this spice? How much is a 'spoonful'? What do they mean when they say 'cook with love'?

You will quickly find out that he is a terrible cook. You could be a chef or someone who wouldn't be able to cook to save your own life, but at least you'd still be better than Riddle.

So when he starts asking these small questions...you can expect to give him full on lessons.

He...feels weird being taught by another student but grows to appreaciate it. He will remember your instructions and use them wisely (as he literally states after each explanation) so you can expect a delicious dish!

Nothing is perfect at the beginning but the more he tries, and the more he learns from you (or Trey), the better he gets at it! He lets you try it and once he has made something actually tasty, he will be quite proud!

He never knew how nice it is to see someone enjoy the meals you make...especially with a smile such as yours.

He might make more for you - just for fun and not to learn. Just for you...

B-But as th-thanks, of course! For what other reason could it be?!

If YOU make HIM something, he will be...confused...then realizes...and then feels touched...and then confused again.

You...made him a meal? Just like that? Why?

When he does it for you, he does not question anything. But here the roles are reversed and it's strange to him...

Riddle hesitates a little. This meal was not planned for today and he might not follow exactly as his mother intended his diet to be...but you made this for him.

He eats it...and no matter the taste, he will thank you. Eating slowly as he digests (literally and figuratively) this gesture of yours.

No one has ever done this for him. It was all his mother, who noted down the calories instead of thinking if he'll actually enjoy the dish or not.

If you make him a STRAWBERRY T A R T oooooh man, expect some silence.

Riddle is. So. confused. But. In a good way.

But also in. A. Perplexing way.

You...you did this to please him, right? To make him happy?

There cannot be any other explanation as to why.

Out of every little thing, you decided to make him his favorite food...he will stare at it in awe...and actually ponder if he is even allowed to eat it.

One, because of old habits. Two, because it looks so nice. And you baked it for him.

You went out of your way to get the ingredients, wash and cut the strawberries, knet the doe, put in the oven...

He calls out to you midway and will mutter with a flustered face that he will gladly eat it. Would you...like to accompany him? It could be like an small, unofficial, Unbrithday Party...a private one.

Riddle feels so weird eating the tart. Its great and he loves it...but it's not from a bakery, it's not made by Trey for everyone - it was made by you; For him.

Riddle will thank you with flushed cheeks.

When He...Proposes To A Ghost!?

Oh boy. Ghost wedding, huh?

Well, strange and weird, but nothing Riddle cannot manage!

It is fake-proposing anyway and he was to a lot of parties when he was younger. Perhaps he even witnessed a proposal in one of them!

Safe to say, someone as gentleman-ly and sophisticated as Riddle has a high chance of winning a bride's heart - even if it doesn't beat anymore.

Riddle prepares himself perfectly and has the confidence to suit it to. He doesn't believe he is flawless but knows that his attempt will at least help get Idia out of there.

You could aid him though he doesn't think he needs the help.

But if you want to propose to Eliza as well? Certainly you know that makes you two…uh…rivals?

He doesn't like the thought of that even if it is just fake proposing.

To impress the bride you must wear something formal. No matter if suit or dress, Riddle will feel flustered seeing you like this.

If you wear a suit, expect him to scrutinize you. He is very familiar with wearing suits and look at that, your tie is crooked again! Is the jacket even ironed? And those colors don't align…

He will fix every little thing until you're presentable. This just won't do, you know?

Might realize later that he helped you have a better chance at getting the bride? That's bad. RIDDLE is supposed to be the groom for one. And second…he…doesn't want you to become her wife.

If you wear a dress however, Riddle will definitely feel flustered. He doesn't know much about how dresses are 'properly' worn…and you look nice in it, too.

Are you sure you want to compete in general actually? Riddle got this, you know? You don't need to put yourself out there!

The thought of you winning and becoming a bride yourself? Its…so unpleasant.

Will keep telling you to not worry about this. Don't participate…Riddle is the dormhead and he can take care of this. You can help him if you want…

Or maybe dont. Because rehearsing his proposal and gifting you a bouquet of RED ROSES (he knows they mean true love!) And looking at you with one knee while YOU DRESSED LIKE A BRIDE IS

ITS NOT OKAY HE DECIDED.

NOPE DONT HELP HIM! IN FACT, DONT BE HERE AT ALL, RIDDLE WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS!

DONT HELP HIM OUT AND DONT BE ANYONE'S BRIDE! JUST;;;STAY OUTTA THIS!

OH? HE SAID HED TEACH YOU HOW TO DANCE AT A WEDDING?

YOU KNOW HE SEEMS TO NOT RECALL THIS ANYMORE

Before all of this, he would have gladly taught you…but here, he finds himself too flustered to do it. His eyes barely make contact to yours as he sways you in a waltz and even HE starts to make mistakes.

Perhaps he'll show you another time, yeah?

When You Are Stranded On An Island Together...

Wh-what is this? First he's staring into a book and now here he is with you on a beach?! With a...strange, blue creature...

Suddenly being stranded on an island can already be a stressful situation for anyone but for Riddle, it is outrageous. There are no rules, no etiquette, no order...and they left the campus without saying! Sure, it was in accident and sudden and through magical means, but still!

But well...if you two are already here (with that Stitch thing), might as well try to make most of this situation.

Riddle will be a bit at loss when making a cot or a tool or anything like that...but he will get the hang of it eventually. Magic still exists in any case of emergency.

Not being able to freely follow the rules of the Queen of Hearts (how ironic), leaves him a bit anxious and he WILL ALWAYS try his best to follow them. However, he realizes the situation he is in and will not be hard on himself when he cannot do so well or perfectly.

He also would not expect you to follow the rules (maybe Ace though).

Riddle is not used to the beach or vacation itself. Since he is so used to rules and etiquette, you might have to show him how to relax. Swimming, building sand castles, collecting sea shells...anything really.

It's strange...but nice. He slowly finds enjoyment in simply doing unproductive things.

With such casual and revealing clothes, he might feel a bit unsure. Though, well, this is proper 'clothing' for a vacation so...

The dormhead might look for you for any direction on how to...'properly' wear vacation clothes. But! If you were to wear revealing clothing fitting for the beach or heat as well (let alone a *gasp* swimwear or a bikini!) Riddle will turn a bright red. What are you doing wearing that?! No, wait...you're doing it correctly, right?It's fitting for a beach...sorry then...but he will still be as red as a goldfish (in Floyd's words) just not out of rage this time. He's flustered seeing you like this.

It doesn't help that you get into the water...

In a swimwear obviously all of your....feminine ways are showing! (In his words. He just doesn't have the gall to say it outright). Don't you...? He means doesn't this...?

Ugh. He gives up. Too embarrassed to communicate his thoughts and Ace is laughing at him.

Yet...this might be a good opportunity to try out this 'relaxing' with you...

When You Dance At A Masquerade...

An activity Riddle is quite familiar with!

It is an honor to be invited by Noble Bell College, so as a dormleader Riddle will do his utmost to leave an perfect impression from beginning to end.

He will be quite sociable and set his 'rule above all'-mindset aside. He is a guest after all.

You will find yourself asked for a dance by him. He is quite confident in his dancing skills and, regarding the ghost wedding (and Helloween if you partook in it with him), this isn't the first time you have danced together, so there isn't really a reason for Riddle to be nervous.

Even if it was the first time, he'd still assure you that he will show you the ropes.

If you are knowledgable in it yourself, he will expect a good perfomance. Especially if he was the one who taught you.

Riddle quite likes the aesthatic of the masquerade. It has such an mysterious vibe to it and he admits to himself that you seem quite charming and intruiging with that mysterious mask on.

Even if he knows that it's you.

Will act a bit more playful and like a 'prince from far, far away' as he asks you for 'the honor of a dance'. If you laugh and oblige with a bit of playfulness yourself, you scored 100 points.

No matter what you wear, Riddle will compliment your get-up. Do compliment his as well. In fact, it suits him and his personality perfectly! With how sophisticated Riddle is, nobody else could pull off the entire 'masked-prince' aesthatic!

He will blush and clear his throat. Although he will agree with you.

Would truly like to have your first dance but if he does not get the chance, he won't complain. But he will be sure to be on look-out for you to get at least one dance.

If you are??? Very much enjoying the dancing??? With giggles and laughter??? OH man, he doesn't know what to do.

On one hand, he tries really hard not to scold you. This isn't proper etiquette for dancing, you aren't supposed to have f u n. You have to be graceful and impressive and elegant and...

But on the other hand...you have so much fun. You're like a shining sunflower princess blooming amidst these other flowers as if you had seen the sunlight for the first time...he cannot take that fun away from you.

Uh-oh, did he just really think that?

Though his face is blooming just as much in red, he keeps his mouth shut and twirls you as much as you like.

It's nice seeing you enjoy yourself so much. Riddle enjoys himself too.

Yet besides the dancing, he doesn't know what else to do...seems like he does not need to uphold a reputation all the time through the festivity, so he will seek you out for some guidance but also because he enjoys your company.

If you ask him out of curiousity and fun what it means to have 'proper ballroom etiquette', he will gladly tell you but be confused that you might find it fun? He certainly didn't as a kid.

If you, again, play around like some kind of noble or princess, he is biting his tongue. You are just playing around...and it's just for tonight. As long as you don't embarass yourself (or him) then...be as much of a princess as you want.

Ah, to have some tea and dance all night...it would be nice.

Only if you were there though.

[kurogxrix]

ATWOW characters as parents HEADCANONS ;

- neteyam, lo’ak, norm, kiri, ao’nung, rotxo, + tsu’tey

[ All characters aged!up for plot purposes! ]

Lo’ak

Where to even start.

Pray for that baby’s safety cause damn it’s boutta get wild.

He brings your children on his Ikran every time he gets the opportunity to.

Lo’ak loves to show off and showing off to your children is not an exception.

Does cartwheels in the air while your children are with him.

That earns him a good scolding and probably some ear pulling with it too.

Reassures his children that they’re enough. we love him 4 that.

Goes to Neytiri and Jake for advice sometimes.

Once he made you really upset and borderline doubting yourself as a mother after he had said something and he has never hated himself more in that moment.

He went to ask Neytiri how to make things better.

Asked your kids to help him do something to make you feel better.

You lowkey only forgave him cause your children were in the plan and you didn’t wanna disappoint them.

After that he made sure to hold you tightly at night and reminds you how much of an incredible mother you are everyday.

He’s so smitten for his family it’s insane.

The kind of dad that will put his children up on his shoulders and he spins them around.

It’s all happy and joyful until they’re both dizzy and he ends up with puke all over him. That’s what he gets for spinning a toddler over his head.

The type of dad to furrow his eyebrows at your kids when they don’t finish their food (your son literally told you to add more food to his bowl after you warned him that it was a lot).

Neteyam

The chill parent.

He will scold your children when they disobey but i dont see him as the yelling type.

When he gets really angry then he’s a real scary father. But other than that your children all adore him.

loves being his kid’s ‘hero’.

Like when they get their limbs stuck in the fabric of the tents and he goes to unlatch them.

A stressed and tired dad i can just tell.

Makes toys for his children himself because he wants them to be special.

He prolly makes dinner but the kids don’t like it (L for him)

You take up the cooking after his miserably failed attempts at making food. He’s slightly jealous when he watches your kid’s delighted faces at you cooking.

Stays so close to them when you all go swimming at the lake.

Like the water could be at waist level for them and he’d still accompany them.

Lets his children paint on his warrior body paint and he’s lowkey regretting afterwards.

You cant help but make fun of him and your children join in too.

Jokingly sulks after y’all laughed at him.

So now you all owe him a shit ton of kisses.

‘I’m doing this for your own good’ kind of dad, in the least toxic way possible.

Norm

Cutest thing would be you being a na’vi from the omaticaya falling in love with him despite being an avatar.

Lets say his avatar is still alive and well.

It’s kinda hard for him to maintain his family life and head of the avatar program life at the same time.

He pushes through for y’all though.

He cuddles with you and your children in your family tent at night while he wakes up in his human form to take care of himself and the program.

His kids and Jake and Neytiri’s kids are besties.

Takes his children to the lab with him to show them his research.

Loves the way they’re so enamored about his research until they start touching everything.

Has to restrict them at some point.

He can’t get himself to yell at them.

The type of dad to put his children on his shoulder when they can’t see something amongst the crowd.

He’s such a good dad.

He has the dad drip full on. We’re talking a large shirt with cargo shorts and sandals. In his avatar form or human form it doesn’t matter, he’s always rocking the dad drip.

Passes his awkwardness to his kids but you find it endearing.

You love how shy he was when he met you, and you love that you can see that in your children.

He would’ve never expected that he would’ve been here, mated with children but damn Eywa really has plans for everyone.

Brings your kids something back everytime he goes on an exploration.

He shows them the godly privilege of netflix. Doesn’t tell them that it’s on child mode because he fears rebellious teenagers help.

Doesn’t wanna taint them with some human internet bullshit so he never tells them about the web lmao.

Kiri

She’s so cute honestly.

The both of you chose to adopt an metkayina baby that has lost her parents.

You want to teach your daughter in the future that it’s okay to be different, and even if the both of you are look different to her then you’ll always love her.

She amazes your child with her pandora jesus powers.

You’re badass cause I said so and you teach your daughter to stick up for herself.

You’d probably beef with your child’s bullies and Kiri will scold you for acting so brashly.

Will bring your daughter on a walk in the forest every evening.

Kiri relishes in your sweet daughter’s loud laughter when she attracts wild animals to her.

Ao’nung

HES A MENACE BYE.

He’ll be the type of dad to pull lightly on his children’s tails and then look away as they wonder who did it.

you fear letting them too long with their dads cuz you’re scared that they’re gonna turn out as little bullies like he was.

but it’s their dad so you can’t really keep them away. should’ve just chosen a better mate bae🙁

The type of dad that will hold their baby upside down by the foot while they’re literally screeching in joy.

He’s kinda harsh on olo’eyktan training once your son gets older.

You however take your sweet time while teaching you daughter the ways of Tsahik.

sometimes you gotta remind Ao’nung to calm down lmao.

He doesn’t want his son to hate him or his duties so he eventually does and instead tries and make training sessions more like a fun bonding time between the both men.

He makes dad jokes you cant tell me otherwise.

PROTECTIVE DAD!!!

Every teen in the clan is scared to approach your children (romantically) because of Ao’nung’s wrath.

When one boy finally got the guts to ask your daughter out and she said yes, he was finna flip his shit fr.

You had to PHYSICALLY hold him down as you watched your daughter leave on a date with the man.

He knows that he shouldn’t actually hold his children back from having a romantic life, so instead he chooses to tease them about it.

‘Saw that boy giving you googly eyes yesterday, heard from some rumors that he happens to be dating the olo’eyktan’s daughter?’

‘heard you sneaking out the marui last night son, you really should work on your sneakiness.”

The type of dad that WILL swear at your children but like fondly? like;

Your son and him are playing fight in your marui at night when he has the amazing idea to tickle his father.

‘Oh you little bitch, it’s on,”

Then he gets scolded by you and potentially his ear pulled as you do so but oh well it was worth it.

Brags to his spirit brother about his children.

doesn’t wanna admit but he secretly loves it when you all just cuddle up to him during cool nights. Then pretends to be annoyed by im later in the morning.

You all know he’s capping.

Rotxo

sweetest dad in all of awa’atlu.

The metkayina woman are probably jealous of your baby daddy I ain’t even gon’ lie to you.

He loves burping your child for some reason.

I headcanon him as someone that has grown up with only girls. Like full on just sisters and their mother so when his first child is born a son he can’t help but be ecstatic at the newborn male company.

He physically cannot scold your children so you have to do it yourself.

Makes you look like the bad cop.

He spoils your children a little too much.

Like they wanna try akula meat? damn just wait a min for him to call up his skimwing-

Your children have a fav parent and it’s clearly him.

They still love you though.

Rotxo’s always here to remind you how much he’s grateful for the family that you gave him.

Brings his children to meet his spirit brother as soon as they can enter the water with you.

bonus: Tsu’tey

He lowkey has beef with his baby.

will have staring battles with it.

They both fight to see who can get more affection from you but we all know the cute baby is gonna win.

Hes deadass gonna sulk i aint even lying.

He’s not the ‘awww ur so cute’ kind of father but the ‘you’re not ugly’ kinda dad but we all know he loves his baby.

When his children grow up he will be strict on them there’s no denying.

At this point he kind sounds like a bad father but he isn’t (at times).

He shows his love through words of affirmation.

Reminds his children that he’s proud of them when they achieve something, or sometimes just in general.

He wont go easy on their potential mates. Like he'll lowkey show them what hell is.

HE CANT KEEP IT IN HIS PANTS. after you both have had your first child together he’s just 100x more affiliated with you than he was before.

not to say that he didn’t love you before, on Eywa my man was a goner. There’s just something about motherhood that made you shine much more than before.

You’ll probs end up with like 5-6 children.

-

for a hoe that claims to dislike children i do be writing a shit ton of family things huh (it’s cuz i love dilfs 🫶🏽)

[skz1-4-3]

SHIRTLESS PT . 2 | M , F

I do not allow anyone to copy my work or translate it to post it somewhere else. !!

Read part one here

This chapter is only for people that are 18 or over so MDNI .

(Takes place in s2 at the new hideout)

Content info: after you and so mun were caught in a heated situation a by none other than ha-na , who immediately told the other counters, you have some explaining to do.

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns

Keywords : Y/n -> your name

Second person pov

Warnings : soft dom!so mun x fem sub!reader,teasing , dirty talk , hair pulling(m,f receiving), slight spanking , describing sex , no protection (wrap it before you tap it babygirl),kissing , make out sessions , cuddling , probably a lot of grammatical mistakes,Let me know if i missed anything.

„C‘mon , we probably have some explaining to do now.“ so mun said and pulled you up , giving you one last peck on the lips and a little slap on your butt, before standing up , putting on a nearby shirt and walking towards the door. You checked yourself in the mirror, and fixed what you could fix. Your lips were slightly swollen from the kisses and so were so muns. You walked up to him and he took your hand , leading you out of his room into the kitchen,where everyone was already sat, as if they were waiting for you two. Which they ,probably were…

„So uhm“ so mun started and everyone looked at him expectantly.

„I don’t really know what you want me to say but , y/n is my girlfriend know-” so mun was interrupted by various screams , mostly mo taks though who was once again , exaggerating everything. Earning himself a slap on the back of his head ,from ms chu.

„Yah , that’s great you two , congratulations. Was wondering how long it would take, for you to realize your feelings for each other.“ ms Chu then followed to say and you looked at so mun and noticed he was already staring at you lovingly. You cheeks heated up at that.

„Yaaaa , look at them . Already flirting knfront of us with no shame. Kids these days.“ mo tak muttered under his breath,but apparently not quiet enough ,because he earned another slap from ms chu. At this point ,your wondering how hes still alive ,and hasn’t had a concussion yet.

„Leave them be“ jang mul said ,defending you and mun,to which you both let out a small laugh.

„So can we go now? I don’t really think there’s anything else to say on this matter.“ you asked and everyone nodded and as you were about to walk away , your hand still in so muns , ms chu said something.

„Dont you dare break up , i will break both of you. It could damage the team aswell.“

„Not planning on it ms chu“ so mun said before tugging you back to his room. As you entered he covered the window on the door and locked it for some privacy. Jeok bong would have to sleep in the box ring then , you guess. So mun turned back to you and didn’t notice how close you were , so when he turned around your face was met with his chest.

„So what do we do know?“ he asked you , arms sneaking around your waist as you stuttered a small 'i dont know'.

„ i have an idea“ he answered his own question and pulled you even closer , if that was possible. He leaned down and kissed you on the lips softly. You were sure that so muns kisses , were now your favorite thing on earth. The soft and delicate movements that filled your stomach with butterflies is just something you never wanna let go of.

You and so mun continued to make out infront of the door for a little while longer, before he started stepping forwards ,which caused you to go backwards. Before you realized you were already in his bed , with him above you. His hand sneaked underneath your shirt once again , picking up where you left of last time. So mun broke the kiss and looked at you, his filled eyes with concern .

„Do you want to do this?“ he asked you and you immediately knew what he meant , you nodded your head at his question.

„say it love , need you to confirm it properly.“ he spoke in your ear , head nuzzling into the curve of your neck, you shuddered at the touch.

„I want it , please so mun.“ you gave consent to him and he started kissing along your neck , searching for your sweet spot . He found it in no time as you let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes . Hands coming up and into his hair , slightly gripping and pulling on it. So mun smiled against you neck before moving away , you quietly whined at the loss of touch.

„Dont worry princess, there will be a lot more coming for you.“ he laughed at your desperation and pulled your shirt over your head , as you lifted your arms, to let him remove it easier. He slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders as you unclipped it , fully taking it off. He looked at you and you felt slightly uncomfortable under his gaze as you thought , he must not like what he says. But so muns thoughts interrupted yours.

„You’re so beautiful“ he softly spoke . His arms hugged your waist and yours his neck as you lips moved in sink,you used your feet to tug on his pants and he got the message. He undressed so did you take of the last pieces of clothing. Now you both were fully exposed to each other. You might’ve seen him shirtless just a few minutes ago but , oh my. In this state he only seemed to get more attractive. He lifted you up and switched your positions,now you were on top of him, your abdomen hovering above his. You lowered yourself onto him.(onto that juicy co-)

„F*ck yes“ he muttered under his breath as you chuckled at his reaction , you slowly moved up and down his shaft , getting used to his size. His hands found themselves on your hips as he helped you pleasure the both of you. Your soft moans and his deep groans filled the room.

„Shit , your so tight , love. I love you so much“ he said as you went faster , your high following closely. His arms tightly hugged around you , and he nuzzled his head in your chest. Biting your tits now and then to muffle his groans , which occasionally slipped out.

„Mhm , so mun.“ you moaned as your hands tugged on his hair , pulling him out of your chest and tilting his head to look at you. Your eyes locked which each other and you sloppily kissed each other .

You felt a burning sensation in your abdomen and started twitching . So mun noticed and used his last strength to help you finish . You tightened around him as you came , which caused him to spill onto you aswell. Painting your soft walls paper white.

Panting and out of breath you lowered yourself onto him , still connected by your intimate body parts. Cuddling and searching for comfort you nuzzled into the crook between his neck and shoulder , he kissed the top of you head. Your sent filling his nostrils as he got sleepy. His eyes falling close , so did yours as you said one last thing.

„i love you so-mun“

„I love you too y/n“

—————————————————————————

This was it y’all,im sorry for it being short . School is stressing me and i just had a fight with my mum. But i can’t break my promise can i?

Love you.

IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST ASK ME IN MY ASK BOX OR IN MY COMMENTS

[julilovesyou444]

the only exception ~ tom kaulitz

background: you and Tom had been hooking up for a while now, probably close to around half a year. you had a big crush on him but were very aware that he didn’t do relationships, so even though you were ‘physically’ with him, you never let yourself get super emotionally attached. Tom couldn’t say the same for himself, though. He wanted you, and only you.

warnings: nothing much just kissing and swearing lol

a/n~ sorry for being m.I.a!! I had to visit my dad in serbia and it sucked because I hate my dad and he hates me lolllll speaking of I wrote a fic that was requested where like the ready has daddy issues and tom like helps her through it but I think I made it wayyyy to like serious I think the word is? and its very long so I’m considering scrapping it idk, also I’m getting to all ur requests that I wanna do dont worry !!

~

“hello?”, i said, picking up my phone. it was tom, my long-term fling. I can’t remember exactly how I met him, or exactly how we started hooking-up. I had heard about his band before we met, and I thought they were cool, but i didn’t quite understand just how popular they were. Until after meeting Tom, i didnt know about his ‘reputation’ either. I didn’t know until after the first time we hooked up. He had made us trade numbers, and i was expecting a call at least a day or two after we had seen each other, but nothing. I decided to do some research, just to find out that the boy i was crushing on was in fact a hardcore player. A womanizer, if you will. Part of me wanted to never go out with him again, the smart part of me. But another part of me wanted him so badly, so overwhelmingly bad that I went with my heart instead of my head. I liked Tom, I really did. I couldn’t help it. But I didn’t want myself to get hurt, so I expected just about nothing from him. We fuck and then it’s over. Whenever he would ask me to stay the night or do any of that stuff, I would politely decline and leave. Sometimes we would go out and do non-sexual things, but they always ended sexual. I learned to become okay with that, and I ultimately stopped expecting us to do anything that was hooking up.

“Hey, are you busy?”, he asked.

“Hmm, i dont know, maybe, depends on why you’re calling.”, I teased. he chuckled.

“Uh-huh… well I was thinking, that if you’re free, I could take you out somewhere.”

“take me out, huh? is that code for fucking?”, this earned me another laugh.

“no, no, it can be, but I want to actually take you out.”, he chuckled.

“are you asking me out on a date?”, i asked, a little confused.

“…yes?”

I was quiet for a second, apparently a second too long.

“look if you dont want to, we don’t have to, I just thought-“, he started.

“no, no! sorry! I was thinking but yes, I’m free and we should go out!”, I interrupted. I heard him release a breath he was holding, probably one he didn’t intend for me to hear.

“okay, yea, cool. when can I pick you up?”

“hmm let’s say in about 30 minutes? does that work?”

“perfect.”

“mhm, I’ll see you then.”

“bye.”, he said just before I hung up.

tom kaulitz. taking me out on a date?? what????

I got up almost immediately and started to get ready. I wanted to look as cute as possible. I ran over to my wardrobe and searched through it for a good five minutes. I found this super cute, also pretty tiny, pleated denim skirt and this purple and black top that had a lot of lace detailing and these little puffy princess sleeves. I put on some jewelry, makeup, and these black boots I had. I left my hair down, i noticed that when I did, Tom always complimented it. I grabbed my purse and threw some gum, lipgloss, my phone, and my little digital camera in there.

I glanced at the clock and saw that he should be here any minute. I stepped outside and waited for about 3 minutes, which would’ve been fine, if it wasn’t as cold as it was. I didn’t feel like going back in, just in case he showed up right as i did. I was shivering a tiny bit and got some goosebumps, but to my relief, and pulled in front of my house not too much later. I got in, the warm air of his car heaters hitting me.

“shit, you look freezing. how long were you out there for?”, Tom asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“I’m cold but I’m fine.”, I laughed it off.

“okay, do you need a jacket or-“

“No!! I’m serious! I’m okay.”, I laughed some more.

“okay, okay! just checking.”, he smiled. I watched as his eyes did a quick scan over me.

“you look pretty. your hair looks really nice too.”, he said, his eyes averting back forward as he began to drive away.

“thank you. you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he playfully rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help but smile as well.

“sooo… where are we going?”, I questioned.

“you’ll see.”

“Oh, c’mon. I hate surprises.”

“You’ll like this one, trust me.”

I sighed and faced myself back forward. Some radio station was playing softly in the background as we raced down the highway.

the drive to the mystery place wasn’t far, only a 20 minute drive, which I filled with a lot of talking. mainly about random stuff, Tom telling a few jokes which never failed to make me laugh. He pulled into a parking lot which only had a few other cars. I looked around, it looked like we were at some kind of fancy park. A garden maybe? He leaned over the center console and grabbed something from the backseat.

Tom dropped a large black zip up jacket in my lap.

“My jacket, so you aren’t freezing your ass off the entire time.”

“Oh, thank you.”, i said quietly. He got out of the car and made his way to the back. I followed his lead, getting out of the car, putting on the jacket but not zipping it. I walked around to the back of the car where the trunk was open. There were two big woven picnic baskets. Tom grabbed both and I shut the trunk door as he began to walk off. I caught up with him.

“Do you want me to carry one?”, i motioned to the baskets.

“It’s okay, just follow me.”, he said, continuing his venture into the park. I followed close behind.

We didn’t walk for long, it was a really beautiful park. There were lots of flowers and little benches everywhere. Lots of really big and beautiful trees too. We stopped in front of this big pond, the water was so clear you could see the miniature fish swimming. there was a swan that swam around too.

Tom opened one of the baskets, revealing a big blanket. Without a word, I helped him spread it out over the fluffy grass. He sat down on it and patted the little space next to him, indicating for me to sit down as well. I did. He grabbed the other basket next to him and moved it to be in front of us. Tom opened it and inside were a ton of snacks. All of my favorites. I was shocked to say the least.

“Oh my god, how did you know?”, i said, mouth slightly agaped. He looked proud of himself.

“You mentioned some of your favorite snacks once or twice.”, he nonchalantly shrugged.

“This is lovely, Tom.”, I replied, sounding as genuine as I ever had. His eyes met mine and I gave him a little smile which he returned.

“What is all of this for?”, i added.

“Just wanted to do something nice for you, I guess.”, he mumbled and looked away.

I gently placed my hand over his, his head turned to mine.

“I appreciate it, I really do.”, i smiled. my thumb caressed his hand for a second.

“I like spending time with you, y’know? even when we’re not…”, he trailed off. I laughed, taking my hand off his, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Tom.

I grabbed one of the many snacks he packed and started to eat. In between bites, I would ramble about different things. He always would just listen to me talk, admiring me as he did. This went on for a while. Tom started eating some. Somewhere in the midst of this, my position changed. I now had my head laid across his legs, my legs stretched out and my hair splayed all over his lap. i stopped eating and just started talking. Tom gazed down at me. Eventually he lit a cigarette and started smoking. He held the cigarettes between his pointer and middle finger, moving it down for me to take a puff. I did, peering into his eyes as I did so. They weren’t filled with their normal lust, but they looked like they had something else in them. I couldn’t figure it out.

Tom talked some too, mainly making crude jokes. I always laughed, no matter how stupid. I think he enjoyed that.

He took a hit and then leaned over, his mouth hovering over mine. I opened and allowed him to blow the smoke in my mouth. He sat back up and watched as slowly blew it out.

“I know this isn’t a normal thing to do when we ‘meet up’, but i really like it.”, Tom said, his fingers intertwined with the ends of my hair.

“Really?”, i asked. I knew for a fact he enjoyed my body, but I wasn’t aware he liked spending time with me when we weren’t doing one another.

“yea… why’s that so shocking?”

“Um, i dont know. I guess I thought you really only wanted sex from me.”

“Oh.”

“Yea..”

“Uh, I guess that’s just what I wanted at first. But the more I started seeing you, the more I wanted to see you again.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, and whenever I would invite you to stay over or do anything like that, you would always say no. Kind of assumed you were the one who only wanted me for sex.”

“I don’t, I just assumed you were trying to be polite or something. It’s stupid, I guess.”

“No, it’s not. At this point, you know me and you know the reputation I have, so i understood why you thought that.”

“Sorry…”, I muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, but it wasn’t awkward.

“I was thinking about maybe doing this kinda thing more often with you, I mean, we can still do our normal things we do, but maybe we can start doing more of this too.”

“What? Like go on dates?”, i furrowed my brows.

“Yea, something like that.”

“I feel like that’s something only couples do.”, i sorta laughed. He was quiet, which made me sit up, I looked over at him. He was staring at his lap in my absence.

“Is that… not a possibility?”, he murmured.

“But… I thought you dont do commitment? and relationships?”

“Yea, i dont usually.”

“I can’t go on dates with you and act all boyfriend-girlfriend unless you are actually going to commit. I’m not going to do that to myself, Tom. I can’t let myself get hurt like that.”, i said quietly but sternly. I had to be sensible, i didn’t want to be just another girl that got fooled by Tom Kaulitz.

“I know, but i want to try.”, he looked up at me with pleading eyes.

“What changed? What’s different now than from when I first met you?”, I asked, still unsure.

“I hate talking about my feelings.”, he huffed.

“I’m not gonna judge you or anything, I just need to know.”

“You changed me. You did. I didn’t want to date any of the girls I hooked up with for one night because they just weren’t worth it and they didn’t mean that much to me. You’re one of the only girls I’ve consistently seen for more than a month. I haven’t gotten with any other girl than you for like 4 months. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t ignore it. And I want more of you. More than just the physical aspects. Dont get me wrong, I love those parts of you too, but i want you for more than just your body. Dude, I can’t stop saying stupid ass jokes to you just because I want to hear your laugh. So yeah, I haven’t ever really commited before because I didn’t really do relationship. But, for you, it’s different. You are the only exception.”

“What? Really? I had zero idea you felt that way at all…”, I replied, astounded.

“Well I do feel that way and have for a little while now.”

“You aren’t playing with me, right?”, i asked, still not believing it.

“Really?? I practically just confessed myself to you and you still don’t believe me?”

“Okay, I’m sorry! You’re right, this was just, unexpected from you.”

“So… what do you think?”

“I want you too, Tom.”, I managed to say. A smile grew on his once nervous face. He cupped my face in his hands and began to lean in.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Mhm.”, i responded. He kissed me so passionately, I felt like I was floating. My hand went to his jaw, my thumb subconsciously tracing little hearts on his lower cheek. I could feel him smile into the kiss. I pulled away, my forehead still connected with his. I started giggling a little, looking away and hiding my face.

“Oh, c’mon. Dont be shy, now.”, Tom pulled my back towards him so I was leaned against his frame, his arms wrapped around my torso. He left little kisses on the top of my head.

“Wow.”

“Hm?”, he hummed.

“Can’t believe I was your only exception.”, i said with a cocky smile in attempt to poke fun at him.

I could feel him roll his eyes.

“Uh-huh, whatever. Its true.”

“I kinda never thought this day would come.”, i said, my finger trailing up and down his, that rested on my stomach.

“Yea, me too, I guess. But I’m glad that it did.”

I smiled, turning my head around to kiss him again.

A new beginning.

His first real relationship.

It was me, I was his only exception.

Something about that phrase made me feel like the most special girl in the world.

~

[beanibon]

Hi 👋 can i request a smutty wolfwood x fem reader, where after everything him and his s/o finally retire and decide to take care of the orphanage. And seeing his s/o be amazing with the kids makes him go brrrr and think of how great she'll be as a mother and then....breeding kink? 🤣

GIVE THIS MAN ALL THE CHILDREN, WE ALL KNOW HE'LL BE THE BEST DAD IN THE WORLD!

TW: smut, breeding kink, mentioned oral (f!receiving), marking, doggy style (good breeding position tbh), overstimulation.

It had been several years now, peace finally entering Nicholas's life. Even if it did still feel odd.

But with all that said and done, alongside side the only woman he'd ever truly love, Nicholas took over the Hope Land's Orphanage. Protecting the children, and making sure none of them would ever go through what he had.

Another thing Wolfwood tried to do was quit smoking, but that proved a lot harder then he thought. Which was why he was currently hiding, a freshly lit cigarette between his dry lips, that bitter taste inhaled into his lungs.

He knew you'd kill him the moment he was caught, reprimanding him after he swore he'd stop. Yet maybe that's why he denied fully quitting, your face scrunched up in anger was always so adorable, how could he possibly get enough.

"Mieko that's a beautiful drawing, we'll hang it up on the wall later on." Nicholas peeked around the corner, dark eyes observing the way you kneeled low, admiring one of the children's drawings.

A familiar ache throbbed in his pants, causing Nicholas to grunt in discomfort, yet that saccharine voice dragged him back. Hearing the way you spoke to the children made Nicholas happy beyond a doubt, the way you took to each and every one. Not to mention how the children instantly grew fond of you, clinging to your clothes, begging for attention and constant affection. Hell it made him jealous even.

Yet there was one thing that drove Nicholas absolutely wild, which was the image of you pregnant with his own child.

That very thought had shivers running up and down his spine, another drag of his cigarette in attempts to calm the blood flow to lower regions. Perhaps it was something worth mentioning later when the children were all tucked into bed? It definitely wouldn't hurt.

"What did I tell you about smoking, mister!" Wolfwood straightened, head spun to look at your angry, displeased face.

The children surrounding you were giggling, faux looks of shock through some of them. The sight of children clinging to you had Wolfwood's mind wander, until you leapt forward to snatch the embering cigarette.

"What's the harm in one, sweetheart? Can't let me treat myself?" Nicholas cooed, easily moving the cigarette out of reach as you collided against him.

"You said you'd quit, and that I'm allowed to pester you when you caved!" Another poor attempt of thwarting his addiction.

"Did I say that? Shit I don't remember."

"No swearing in front of the kids!" You scolded, hands placed firmly on your hips. A chorus of voices agreeing, playful and teasing.

"Nico said a bad word!"

"Mister Nichowas stop teasing Mrs Y/N!"

"Geez Kiddos, you aren't gonna stick up for me? I'm the one being denied here, don't wanna stick up for lil old me?" Nicholas teased, earning a charge of children tackling him, allowing you to pluck the cigarette from his fingers.

"I think that answers your question, seems that's another win for me." Stamping out the cigarette, you shooed the children away, helping your disgruntled husband off the ground. Gentle hands dusting off the sand sticking to his clothes, fixing his collar.

"Can we have kids?" He blurted out, eyes trailing down to your stomach.

"We have many kids." You responded patiently, oblivious to what he was suggesting.

"Angel," Nicholas brought your face to his, placing a sweet kiss to those beautiful lips of yours. "I'm meaning our own kids."

Your face flushed red, eyes wide as you considered his proposal. You weren't against the idea, just confused as you thought Nicholas was content with all the children running about the orphanage. Never before considering he'd want his own children.

"Why don't we discuss this further when all the children are in bed, okay?"

The bed creaked dangerously, the sound echoing off the walls had you shushing Nicholas frantically, worried the kids would awaken. Only Wolfwood didn't care, pace quickening.

"Nicholas! The childr-"

"Please Angel, just shaddup for a sec," Nicholas cooed, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounded into you roughly. "Gonna impregnate you real good, sweetheart."

Your cunt was already dripping with previous loads of his cum, face pressed into the pillow to muffle your pleas, moans and whimpers. Teeth marks covered the back of your neck, entire back and legs even from when Nicholas was eating you out.

Rough hands squeezed your waist, pulling it back as he thrust his hips forward, the plush of your ass somewhat cushioning his harsh hips slamming into you. Nicholas grunted, breathing irregularly as he faltered yet again.

"Ready for another load of my cum? Gonna make some mini mes?" Those fangs nibbled against your ear, earning some angelic noises from your lips.

Those sweet noises were the cherry on top, hot cum filling you up until you were swollen to the brink. Tongue hanging out as you cried at your final release, stars filling your teary vision.

Chaste kisses were placed along your spine, calloused hands massaging you with more gentleness then their previous rough nature. Nicholas laid you on you side, legs pressed together in attempts to keep his seed inside you, arms wrapping around you.

"You did well, Angel," He praised sweetly, a hand placed upon your stomach. "You look beautiful."

Nicholas couldn't stop imagining you fat with his child, the very idea had him hard yet again. Only this time your tired form smacked his arm, groaning at the idea of being fucked ruthless again.

"Put it away, I'm not dealing with it anymore." You grumbled, Nicholas chuckling at your irritated voice.

"Sorry Y/N, can't help it when you get me so excited." Another smack, this time to his face had him barking in laughter, arms squeezing you close as you whined. "Don't worry, I'm too tired anyways. Think I went overboard..."

"No shit, five rounds without a break in exhausting, if I'm not pregnant then there's something wrong with your cock." You teased, turning to nuzzle into his chest.

Nicholas smiled, holding you close as he pressed a final kiss to the crown of your head, eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep.

"I love you, Angel."

"I love you too, Nico."

[emwheezie]

Do you have some fun facts about Enzo to share? Just wanna to know the guy a bit better.

This is Enzo Vincenzo! I've gotten a TON of asks about him, but was waiting to finish some art and work his story/character a bit more before answering! He's a character we thought up in 2014-15ish, but only recently worked in depth on his development. Pre apologies here, I'm longwinded when talking about my characters! (also it is 3:13am and I'm feeling silly)

Enzo is a secondary character in the comic, friend of the main character kind of deal. My cowriter and I love Enzo and are very happy that everyone else seems to like him too! We are making sure to develop all our characters as much as the two main characters so that we can create as rich of a story/universe as possible. (like we have so much content you could pick any random minor character and be like "them. make a spinoff about them" and we could just do that immediately we have so much content my brain is going to explode)

Enzo and Lennon are high school buddies who met sophomore year, shortly before Lennon dropped out. (peep the bottom art of them from their HS years)

Him and Lennon are big into movies. They binge watch them over the weekends or when he's convinced by Lennon to skip classes for the day.

Enzo loves to draw, especially dragons and horror related stuff. He posts his drawings on DeviantArt where he met xXHexiLexi328Xx and fell in love with her. She's also an artist who loves to draw super kawaii anime chibis magical girls and pokemon stuff.

No one thinks Hexi Lexi is a real person. Everyone's like "awh poor Enzo, still single...you'll find someone, buddy." But she's real and from Arkansas. (like that state even exists?)

Enzo loves knives. His favorite one is a switchblade engraved with the name "Colleen." He found Colleen at a Goodwill while he and Lennon were looking for parts to build a "Saw trap." (you know, from the Saw franchise) Enzo thinks he's Billy The Puppet from Saw...I mean, high school Enzo kind of had the same poofy hair and I'm not gonna be the one to tell him he didn't look like that puppet.

Somewhere along the way, early in their friendship, Lennon is convinced Enzo killed his parents. Lennon's never seen Enzo with his parents so I guess that's the only solution, right? It becomes a longstanding rumor/joke... and Lennon's like wow Enzo that's so cool I'm friends with a literal murderer. (Lennon is dumb).

Enzo once wanted to become a priest but then he remembered he was evil.

Enzo is Albanian-Italian and grew up in Cambridge, MA living with his parents and grandparents. His parents are super religious people who work at the restaurant his grandparents own, located in the North End of Boston.

It's a joke that Enzo's like never heard a music once in his life before meeting Lennon who introduced him to guitar. (He's rhythm guitar in Lennon and Tony's band Poison Boy Club)

I feel like I've said a lot of words and stuff. I feel like there's more but it's now 3:40am and my brain is mush. OH later on, Enzo really hones in on his art skills and gets into tattooing, earning himself an internship at a local studio.

Overall, Enzo's a cool, confident dude who's a little scary in a "big guard dog" type of way, but he's a loyal friend and does his own thing and he's with that.

[illustrious-ia]

[ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ]

⌈ @viinlz sends a file request ! ⌋

-> “Can you write a fluff content with bsd Characters?”

—Their Grace responded with:

HELLO MY BESTOFRIENDO TY FOR RQSTING I LOVE U SM I WOULD ROB A SIGMA FIGURINE FOR YOU [ I'm broke asf ]

BTW I NOW ABSORBED THE ABILITY TO ACTUALLY WRITE STUFF WITH HCS FORMAT MYEHEHEHEH

Ehm. Anyway, I'm still gonna write ye a Ranpo scenario soon. I'm just running out of ideas rn so I hope this hcs will suffice for the time being. ^^

Cw/Tw: None

— Hmmm, where shall we start? So this fucker of a detective will definitely be a very clingy and affectionate person.

— Wanna get some work done when he is in the presence? Nuh-uh! Cuddle with him first! Zero work was done that day and congratulations you got a pissed Kunikida. Yay!

— He's the type to sit on your lap and eat some sweets while you're working on your computer. Oh, and of course he will share his sweets with you! Look at how generous he is!!

— Oh? Why are you taking his snack and putting it in your mouth yourself... No! You go focus on that work and he will feed you himself! If you still won't budge he will pout and w h i n e

— Sometimes, he surprises you with the fanciest snacks that perfectly match your preferences! And if you happen to mention a certain food or snack in passing, it magically appears in your hands a few days later! Take a look at how generous he is!

— He's been working extra hard to earn the money to buy you both those fancy snacks so please praise him! Even though he's only gonna boast about how nice and considerate he is, on the inside he is truly the happiest when you appreciate things he has done for you.

— When there's only him and Kunikida in the room, he will talk to him about going easier on you. Why? Well because he said so! Kunikida is so done with both of you at this point

— He may take you along with him to investigate some cases. Well, let him do the work while you're admiring how hard-working he is in the background. He will still ask you for your opinion tho. If your opinion lines up with his deduction he will kudos you for that and maybe ask what food would you like to have after solving the case. If your opinion doesn't match, then he will flick your forehead a bit and “stooopid” ing you once then he'll explain what his deductions are in the simplest manner so you'll understand it easily<33

— Oh, he will definitely use his ability to figure out what mood you're currently in. Feeling a bit sad? He will come over to you and give you your favorite candy while trying to cheer you up a lil bit. Someone pisses you off? You can talk shit about that person with him! And maybe if Ranpo is feeling it he will find information about that said person and talk them so they won't bother you any longer<3333

— You want some alone time? No problem! However, I must say that you're his biggest inspiration to get work done. Once you're feeling better, he'll even offer you a cuddle session. How wonderful is that?

— If it is possible, he'll offer you the world and everything nice inside it. He just loves you to that extent ♡

©All work belongs to Illustrious-ia. Do not translate, steal, or repost it outside of Tumblr.

[kindlingkeen]

You gave me permission to pester and so now I’ll be that stray cat that won’t stop showing up at your door w random junk (in this case, questions & things)

So! Meta abilities / powers / whatever you wanna call em. 👏

I know none of what Jason’s got going on is meta stuff, all his magic and things are earned through different means (Lazarus, All-Cast, etc) but I have seen people sometimes scrap the whole superboy prime/lazarus pit thing and instead make it that Jason has some sort of immortality type ability.

I love it, immortality is inherently tragic for so many people ESPECIALLY the one that’s actually forced to live on. And something about Jason being the one fated to die first (voted) yet unable to actually really do so hurts. Plus powers in general is neat.

But! That is not the only meta ability I’ve seen people give Jason. I’ve seen some where he can travel through shadows, where he can influence the terrain of Gotham, understand animals, unnatural tracking abilities, acid spit, doesn’t breathe, ghost rider type stuff, smth that links him to others, etc.

I love me some flashy abilities but I’m always partial to the subtle ones that don’t look like bunch but are badass when used right.

So w that in mind, if you could give him any meta abilities or powers, what would you choose? what do you think would be the most fun? The ones that could have the best impact on plot n why, etc. doesn’t have to tie into current canon at all ofc, go wild. I’m very curious on what you come up w because there is, quite literally, infinite possibilities. :)

Hey, friend!

Okay, I let this one percolate for a couple of days, and I have to admit, I’m a little stuck. I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about Jason as a meta. One of the things I love about Jay is that he’s just a normal dude (aside from the soul swords thing, but actually that gets at some of my issues with rhato). Like, beat him with a crowbar, blow him up, slice his throat open with a batarang, have his dad beat him senseless, send his buddies through a wormhole, kill off his best friend—it doesn’t fucking matter, Jason doesn’t stay down, he keeps getting back up. He doesn’t have a stable support system, he’s not a billionaire, he isn’t friends with half the superheroes on the planet, he doesn’t have an assassin cult waiting in the wings—he’s just a guy from Gotham who doesn’t know how to quit, even if it quite literally kills him. To me, the meta thing takes away from that. It softens the tenacity and grit that makes Jason’s story so visceral and compelling.

This is not meant to take away from your (or anyone’s) enjoyment of Jason with meta powers. It’s just not for me, I guess.

A meta-adjacent idea that I do really go for, though, is the idea of a sentient Gotham with a deep connection to Jason. She speaks to him, she breathes life back into him to, she calls him home. She’s not going to relinquish her claim on her chosen avatar until she’s good and ready. Now that sends shivers down my spine.

[thezoneblurbs]

Eddsworld Minific | PIZZA :D

the void consumes 😀🫶

Anyways,

Eddsworld Gang x Reader

CHAPTER 2

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

You had gotten up and grabbed a remote, already familiar with their location by Edd's tv. It made you think of the last time you came over, and both of you had stayed up late playing various games. The memory made you smile as you popped the remote into the wheel accessory.

Speaking of the devil, Edd had peeked out into the living room. You both locked eyes before he spoke, he looked happy- excited even?

"Hey, I'll be over in a minute guys, I just gotta watch this pizza and then I can play."

Matt turned his body and held the back of the couch to look at Edd. The sight was slightly amusing to say the least, making the smile from earlier linger. Tom looked up from his phone, between you and Edd. His movements were hard to miss and momentarily you both held eye contact.

"Cool, you can join after this race then."

Tom had a smug grin on his face as he looked at Edd, knowing that his bluntness would push his buttons. Like predicted, Edd rolled his eyes and went back into his kitchen.

The casual closeness between the guys made you wanna speak up so bad with small talk, but all the words died in your throat. Nothing felt like the right thing to say so you stayed quiet.

Matt had switched the mode to three player versus and picked Luigi as his racer. Tom chose king boo, which was what you'd guess he'd pick besides bowser based off of looks alone.

You picked your favorite racer, earning you a questionable look from Matt and Tom. However, you had played against Edd, who is quite possibly the most competitive man on earth, multiple times.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you focused on the screen, trying to lock in. On the inside though? Oh you were so cocky right now. Come on, these guys had no idea what was coming and it was hilarious.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Matt was a little cocky himself, seeing as he picked his favorite character and bike. He felt like this was just gonna be another one of those games where he wins by a landslide.

Glancing over at you, he noticed how intensely focused you looked. He hadn't even chosen a track yet. It weirded him out a little but he promised to give Edd the benefit of the doubt about how "swell it would be to meet y/n."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Tom was thinking about Susan, more specifically some riff he recently learned. He had a lazy smirk on his face as he zoned out thinking about how cool it sounded.

He wasn't paying much attention, and probably wouldn't unless he was yelled at/for or unless the race started.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

"Have any tracks in mind y/n?"

Matt spoke up, mindlessly browsing through the different tracks available.

"Hmm, you guys ok with mushroom gorge?"

You knew a few tricks for it and wanted to see if they'd know them or not. Tom shrugged and Matt clicked on mushroom gorge, not having any complaints. Matt nodded and clicked on the mushroom cup, selecting mushroom gorge.

After having played with Edd so often, you've learned a few speed run tricks, mostly to keep up with his competitive and sometimes cheating ass. Part of you was glad he was busy tending to pizza right now.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The race had ended and Matt's jaw was on the floor. Not only had you beat him and Tom, but it was by an extra thirty seconds too. They slowly turned to look at you, but you were already too busy stuffing your face with pizza.

"How the hell did you do that?"

Tom spoke up, referring to the race that had just occured. Matt was waiting to hear from you as well, but he knew damn well you were that good because of Edd. He shot a dirty look towards Edd in the kitchen, but Edd was too busy listening to the background music from the game and dancing as he watched the pizza bake.

"Uhh I dunno, I just put the pizza into my mouth-"

You spoke up after swallowing a bite of pizza. Tom deadpanned,

"Not the pizza, the race you ditz."

It took a second, but then it dawned on you.

"Ohhh yeah. I just play with Edd a lot."

Matt groaned and threw his head back, and Tom scoffed. This made you chuckle and they both gave each other a look. You didn't know what the look meant, but Matt spoke up before you could ask.

"Whatever. From now on me and Tom pick the maps."

That was fair.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

After the supreme pizza, everyone had played a few rounds of Mario Kart. It didn't take long for Matt and Tom to grow disinterested, so you suggested that you all watch horror movies. Everyone agreed and Tom got first pick.

He decided to start of with Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, and Edd put it on. Matt got up and started to make popcorn in Edd's kitchen, saying, and I quote:

"I can't sit still for the first part of movies, so I'm gonna go make popcorn."

Edd quickly grabbed blankets, enough for everybody somehow, and got comfortable on his spot on the couch.

"Y/n, do you wanna sit on the couch with us? I can make room."

You looked over at Edd, who was offering space that pretty much didn't exist with all three of them on that couch. He was making that stupid pleading face under his blanket and it was hard not to give in a little.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Zomg :0 who should pick the next movie lol