#even though i stuck with a deer-type ear

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

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[angled-blade]

hi! i’m unsure if you write for billy loomis, but if you do could i get billy loomis x reader who, them and their friend group / just a bunch of ppl from another school are new to woodsborro high (or whatev) and reader tries to one-up billy’s popularity and then ends up falling for him? (yeah it’s long i kno <\3 thankies! if it’s too complicated no worries! i 100% understand /gen)

Falling for your rival, Billy Loomis.

Pairing(s): Billy Loomis/Reader Type: Ambiguous | Headcanons

➻ You remembered your first day in a newly transferred school as if it were only yesterday—perhaps even a couple of days ago if you were generous about it. You were sure that the memory of entering Woodsboro was one you couldn’t really forget—even if you wanted to do so.

—

You and a couple of your friends had been transferred over into Woodsboro, you never recalled the details as to why, but it had been in the early half of junior year. You were already well adjusted in your previous school, so it comforted you somewhat to meet some familiar faces that tagged along—even more when some were from your friend group. You made sure to stick with one another as you begin to adjust yourselves in the new school.

In the first two months or so, you stuck with your group of friends as you accustomed yourself with how the school itself functioned. Sure, you played a little too safe—but the rumours about Woodsboro reached the ears of many, just as much as those very mouths utter the town itself. Gossip spread far and wild, the town’s image of a ‘quiet little community’ shattered as the many controversies that greeted it for the past few years ones were one that left it in a sight of silent infamy. It couldn’t hurt to at least be careful, lest you offend people in some way or another.

—

➻ You learnt of the people who were popular in school—and you’ve especially heard about Billy Loomis. You couldn’t place a finger on him, but you had always felt that something about him was.. off. Though, without concrete proof—there was really no reason for you to antagonise him nor have such an uncomfortable feeling to settle in the very pit of your stomach.

➻ Billy Loomis was an extremely popular person in school, in spite of the fact that his reputation was an anomaly for such a town. He got along with the rest of his peers, no matter how unlikely the situation of them getting along were. It felt planned, hence a reason for you to feel strangely unnerved of him. You backed down when it appeared that everyone was used to his strange antics and equally suspicious behaviour.

➻ Nevertheless, you were quick to learn of how the school functioned, your reputation seeming to rise positively the more you interacted with the students of Woodsboro. To your surprise, you seemed to grow popular as the months rolled by.  It was a feat that had your original friend group cheering you on. 

➻ This positive rise in reputation did not go unnoticed by Billy Loomis, though it most likely due to the fact that he overheard it from Tatum as she gossiped to her boyfriend. Stu acted surprised, though Billy saw the glint of interest that was hard to see through—it always looked like a deer in headlights, unknowing of everything that happens as if he wasn’t the nosiest person in Woodsboro. 

���

“Oh, oh! Do you know about ___? They got pretty popular after… get this,  a few months! Gotta respect them though, it’s tough getting in everyone’s good graces.” Tatum finished her statement, quietly giggling at Stu’s now awestruck look, a mumbled ‘No way, really?’ escaping him.

‘Hypocrite,’ was what rang through Billy’s mind as he saw Stu’s clearly orchestrated expression. Everything else that tumbled out of that girl’s mouth was inherently useless to him except for that tidbit about you. 

Billy stared at Stu, the other male catching sight of this and adapting a conversation topic into Tate’s, a method to tear information from his girlfriend.

“Tell me more about this ___, Tates.” Stu pried, his head tilted in a way in which he didn’t seem to be interested in you romantically, but rather one of curiosity in learning more about the student. “—Wanna know if they’re someone we can be friends with, ya’know?” Again, this was yet another orchestrated act.

And with that, Billy took in every bit of information Tatum had. The more he learnt about you, the more he felt confident in his abilities to interact with you now.

The only thing left to do was to get your attention and see how it goes—whether or not it was worth to take a shot in gaining the trust of (well, mostly) everyone if he dated you.

—

➻ You couldn’t help but feel uneasy about Billy Loomis now. He began approaching you, out of the blue. The following week after summer break, you could see Billy almost everywhere. You had your own doubts about Billy initially, maybe even getting used to him—but this returned you back to square one.

➻ Be it by requesting to borrow a pencil from you specifically, in spite of the fact that you were six tables away—there was a lot of chatter about that, which especially annoyed your school friends. 

—

“Fuck, ___. Is he ever letting up? I swear this is, like, the eighth time we’ve seen him. He doesn’t even hang around here!” Hissed a frustrated Alex as he poked at his sandwich. Alex was a close friend—maybe the closest in your friend group. He had been unfortunate enough to see everything unfold before him, all those interactions by Billy were not at all subtle—which had him uncomfortable too, knowing the other guy’s history as a player. 

“He’s so weird—always coming to you out of fuckin’ nowhere just to ask for a pencil? Wait ’til Jess hears this. That Loomis kid is giving me a lot of red flags with how he’s—”

“—I get it, Alex. Let’s just leave it at that, your sandwich is probably becoming soggy.” You interject. 

“He’s giving me all sorts of warnings, too. I’ll keep my distance, there’s honestly way too many of them to ignore.” Almost in an instant, a familiar girl bounds over to the table where you and Alex sat. It was Jessica.

“...So what about that Billy kid?” she asked, having only heard Alex’s words and not yours. 

You groaned at this, already fed up with all this talk about the boy. Jessica stares at you questioningly, before taking her chance to demand answers from you.

You begrudgingly reply to all of her queries.

—

➻ Of course, time had passed by then. Your encounters with Billy lessen as the days dragged on, much to your relief. Though, the same could not be said for Billy. According to him, your standoffish behaviour and hesitance planted doubts in his plan to get you with him.

➻ It begun when he saw how you looked at him when he was walking past you. It had him torn at both ends. One was nervous of getting caught before he could pull the curtain of his movie, the other intrigued in how you may interfere with his plans, seeing how distrusting you were of him.

➻ Billy took a step back, feeling quite annoyed with this development. Did you think of him as lesser? Perhaps even thinking that you were better than him, out of his league? The lack of development in your relationship with one another cemented that idea as fact, which had him grow a lot more annoyed. Unbeknownst to you,, his overthinking mind zeroes in on the idea that he should no longer see you as just anybody—but rather someone who he now considers as a rival.

➻ It was somewhat tense on Billy’s end, seeing how he keeps tabs on you and how you remained indifferent yet extremely distant with him. He wanted to at least have a reason to strike you back, maybe even to guilt you into a relationship with him. The longer he kept searching for a reason, the more his original plans deviated into ones of wonder and a deeper curiosity to find out everything about you. It got to a point where Stu even pointed it out, which had Billy reevaluating everything that he has done up until that point.

—

“Bro, again?” Stu teased, a hand wrapped around Tatum’s waist as he pulled her a little closer to his chest. A playful smile was across his features now.

“What?”

“You’re practically drooling at them, Billy. When you gonna stop staring and tell them whatever you got on your mind?” Tatum rolled her eyes, repositioning herself in Stu’s lap, leaning against his chest to relax her posture. “It’s as if you—” She stops in her tracks, stopping Billy from interjecting at the sudden pause.

“—Oh my god.” Tatum squeals. “Did you fall for ___? Is this an—don’t tell me—no, that you fell for the new kid? Ohhh gosh, that is so cute. Right, Stu?” Tatum rambles, body becoming jittery with excitement. 

“You’re so right, Tates. So smart.” Stu chuckled, giving Billy a knowing look in the process. He would have laughed at his friend, but he’d rather not ruin the moment. It’s not everyday that you see a red-faced Billy Loomis, his expression entirely caused by embarrassment.

—

➻ The same appears to occur with you, with less of Billy’s attempts to interact with you, you find yourself looking his way a little more than usual. He seemed to understand boundaries and had backed off when you became more distant with him—keeping him at arm’s length, as Jess suggested—you took your time to learn about him, too. Were you too hard on him? You wondered yourself. This change in attitude toward the subject Billy quickly caught the attention of your friend group.

—

“Okay, stop. ___. Did something happen to you?” Jessica spoke up first, catching the attention of Vince, who had tagged along with you as you left for lunch.

“Uh, no? Why do you ask?” You respond. She stares at you with suspicion, eyes squinted as if she thought that you were lying. “You sure? It was definitely you who was looking at Billy in English—You are so lucky Mrs. Lake didn’t even—”

“—wait, wait a minute.” Marcus interjects, turning to you in disbelief. “You did what? What happened to ‘I’ll keep my distance’? Are you having a crush on him or—” A pause was in Marcus’ voice now, feeling shocked at how easily those words tumble out.

“—Are you really? Like, actually?” He stares at you, softening his voice a little more now. He seemed worried that he had spilled out a secret that you might not want to reveal so soon.

“...Maybe.” You murmured, your whisper loud enough for the both of them to hear. You three were out of the building, the chattering from students deafening. Jessica bit her lower lip, feeling as though she had overstepped a boundary of yours, which was sort of true in this case. 

“Oh shit, really?” Marcus replied, feeling guilty for being insensitive. “Just.. You know we worry about you, like a lot. But if you—well, if your opinion on him is changing, fuck, I guess we gotta deal with that.” He assures, a nervous smile on his features as he gauges your response to that.

“Yeah. I—It’s just surprising. Are you gonna tell him soon or…?” Jessica adds on, cautiously treading on her words. Silence comfortably formed between the three of you, finding no need to add on to it. That was until Jess, of course, tries to lighten the mood.

“Alex is so going to burst a blood vessel when he finds out.” Now that made you laugh, a smile over your features now.

“Find out about what?” Alex’s sudden appearance had Jessica scream bloody murder.

—

➻ Confession was not at all difficult, seeing how Billy waited for you to make a move instead—having already learnt from before. Shy confessions aside and with ample support from your friends, Billy accepts. The difference with this confession in comparison to many others, not once did a confession had his heart beating as hard as it did when it came from you.

➻ Billy was smug about the fact that you were now his, wrapping an arm around you. Possessiveness grew in his heart, finding it due to the fact that he had to—in a way—earn your affection. It was also due to the fact that his reputation did not even matter to you, not one bit, with that support system you have with your friends. The longer it took for you to reciprocate his love, the more he fell into the feeling of wanting you even more. 

➻ Now that he had you, he was content. So much so that he began taking his time to progress his relationship with you. He doesn’t want you to be distant with him any more longer, not after all that he had done.

—

“God, Billy.” Stu chuckled at his partner in crime. The two sat at the very end of the library, paper before them as Stu scribbled down code words. “You really are obsessed, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.” Billy grumbled, tracing his finger on a polaroid photo that he took of you. It was from the sixth date that you had been on since you had gotten together. You were amazing to him, Billy—whilst having his actual thoughts under lock and key—he felt, for a brief moment, that he wouldn’t have been surprised if you were out of his league. You became someone he cared for deeply, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, Stu.” Billy quietly spoke after a few minutes of listening to Stu’s busied scribbling.

“Mmm, yeah? What’s up?” Stu responded, still not looking up from his paper.

“You think we can make a few changes to the plan, before executing it?”

Billy’s words had been enough to stop Stu’s from scribbling down anything more.

—

Hello again, I had framed the storyline in which it’s a tad more believable and to how I believe it may work out other than a dagger to the heart by Billy. I hope you enjoyed reading this piece! (: There are few more Billy and Stu requested pieces coming your way, please be on the lookout for them! Please reblog this post, I really appreciate it!! Have a good day/night!! (:

[chasseurdeloup]

Four's a Party || Kaden, Eithne, Angelina, and Jade

TIMING: April 27th; After Jade and Van's Banshee run in and Jade's slaying sprees, and before the Trial LOCATION: Regan's Jade's Cabin PARTIES: @screadqueens, @highoctanegem, and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to the cabin to return Regan's shirt, convinced that she might be hiding out there somewhere, and runs into a lot of women, none of them Regan. CONTENT WARNINGS: Head trauma (knocking someone unconscious), taser use

Something strange was happening with Kavanagh, Kaden knew that much. Sure, she had said she was leaving the country, and yes, Nora claimed she was in Ireland with her, and yeah, she wasn’t responding to messages with anything other than something about bog lemmings and peaches, but that didn’t mean anything for certain. Not really. Nora was prone to pranks and that status on its own was too strange to be one indicating that she crossed the Atlantic ocean. Not to mention she didn’t say goodbye. That deer leg was just an early birthday gift or some shit. Couldn’t be some kind of weird parting gift. 

Right, the odds weren’t on his side but Kaden couldn’t leave it alone all the same. For all he knew, she was stuck in a bog hunting for lemmings. Likely dead ones, now that he thought about it. Or dealing with some kind of illness from eating a really bad peach. Not to mention he had a feeling that most people who knew her didn’t know about her strange cabin in the woods, secluded and secret. If anyone was prone to hiding out there and pretending they were in another country to keep people away, Kavanagh seemed like the type. For all he knew, she was there right that second. Plus, he owed her a shirt. She wouldn’t have left without that or the bones, right? Not that he thought he was important, he just figured she was too stubborn to leave the country before getting them.

Which is why he was trekking out through the goddamn woods to find that same strange little cabin again. It was harder to find now that he was looking for it, oddly enough, but it was nestled right where he remembered it. It looked as abandoned as ever but that didn’t mean much with Regan. Sure didn’t look different from the first time he encountered it. 

Kaden walked up to the door and rapped his knuckles against the wood before leaning in to listen for any signs of life. He knew too damn well that even if she was in there, she would try and pretend she wasn’t. With his ear to the door, he heard shuffling, objects moving and clattering, footsteps. “Kavanagh, I know you’re in there,” he said, knocking again. “I have your damn shirt. I even brought my own blindfold this time.” 

—

Eithne was glad to be working with Angelina on this. Even if it was thankless work, which was exactly what it was today. Scourging through the contents of an abandoned cabin was dull and disappointing. How could it be that Regan had left nothing of note behind? There were the weapons, of course there were the weapons, but she could think of no reality where a banshee would debase herself to use such crude things. They were a point of interest and confusion. (She had, however, pocketed a knife. It might come in useful.)

But there was nothing of note. A few receipts, stacked on the kitchen counter. Most of them contained boring food items, none of them bearing the proof of Bone-ios being purchasable in the area. This too, was disappointing. She kept rifling, though. Dutiful. Not every day in this town could be spent following Fate’s will and ensuring the secrecy of their home, after all. There was investigation to be done too, to wipe out these traces. It seemed Regan Kavernagh and Siobhan Dolan alike were like muddy mutts, leaving earthy tracks around everywhere. At least they didn’t need a mop to clean it. Banshees had different instruments.

And then there was a knock. Eithne rose to her full height, eyes inky black as they had been for much of the attempt at investigation. She looked at Angelina, moved towards the door but did not open it yet. Her wings were glamored away. The voice followed the knock, gruff and grating and masculine. Kavanagh. She had a man-friend who had her shirt, who knew where she lived. She swung open the door and took him in. “Come in,” she said. “We can get the shirt where you need it to be.” She’d sooner burn it than bring one of the child’s belongings home with her. The space in her bags could be better used. She stepped aside to let the stranger in, as if it was completely normal that she and Angelina were here. It was, of course. There was tidying to be done. Perhaps this was just another track of mud.

—

Angelina didn’t quite like the new world as much as she thought she would, the town was charming in its own way - plenty of death and decay around that she could appreciate - but it seemed rather odd. Still, she knew that the younger banshees needed a steady hand, and so she had gone with them to make sure that this experience was a good learning experience. After all, it was likely something like this might happen again. 

So she had gone with Eithne to check on the child’s cabin carefully considering the place. It was rather banshee like even while empty of banshee things, but it wasn’t especially helpful on their mission. Still, she watched the other banshee examine it nodding along approvingly. 

It was important to encourage good behaviors after all, and Eithne was shaping up to be a wonderful reliable banshee. While Angelina could help more, she figured it was a good lesson in duty and Eithne was at the age she should be getting a little more responsibility. 

She was about to suggest that they head out of the cabin when they heard a man speaking. Her eyes flashed to the door standing quietly to the side considering when Eithne decided to speak. Nodding to the younger she said, “Oh dearie - It does seem to be something she would want. Come in, - whoever you are. I think we have some things to talk about.”  

It wasn’t a suggestion on Angelina’s part as she tilted her head slightly her smile vaguely off putting. “Do you like bone cookies? I have some. It does look like you have bones on you.” 

—

When the door swung open, Kaden was surprised, but ready to poke fun at Regan for being so eager to welcome guests for once, especially while she was pretending to be across the ocean. Only it wasn’t Kavanagh there on the other side of the door – the door that was now wide open, displaying the interior of the cabin for the world to see, as if it wasn’t the hotbed of secrets (and likely sex toys) that Kavanagh had made it out to be. 

Instinctively, he took a step back, his foot now resting on the lower stair. “Oh, uh, sorry. I must have the wrong place.” His brows furrowed at the eager invitation from the two women waiting inside the sparse cabin. He couldn’t say if any of it even belonged to Kavanagh in the first place, he’d never seen the inside of it, but it didn’t alleviate the disappointment sinking into his stomach. She really had left. After all that talk and what he thought was bullshit postering and pranks from that kid, she’d left. And he didn’t even say–

Right, whatever. They weren’t friends, she’d made that clear. He was just some guy who she occasionally patched up. “Sorry, did you just move in or something? I’m looking for Reg– Dr. Kavanagh. I just wanted to drop these off,” he said, holding out the shirt and the bones it was wrapped around. The further invitation from the second woman made him hesitate once more, frozen in place and debating if he should take a step forward or back. 

It was stupid of him to go out into the woods without any real weapons but, for once, he wasn’t out there to hunt. At least he had a few knives on him, never left home without them, and he caught a glimpse of what looked like an ax or two leaning against the back wall. Kaden wasn’t sure if it was comforting to know he’d have access to a weapon once he was inside or if it made the whole thing more concerning.

Both. It was both. Either way, he carefully stepped over the threshold and into the cabin. “Bone cookies?” he asked. “Uh, can’t say, never had any.” The lines of confusion only deepened on his face as she continued. “How do you– I mean, I do, yeah. I promised Kavanagh I’d give them to her if she went on the stupid moose tour with me.” It felt foolish to say aloud and he was glad he’d left the antlers tucked in his back pocket instead of holding them in the bundle he’d brought with him. 

—

Angelina had a lot going for her, but she was not being particularly productive when it came to digging around Kavanagh’s cabin. It mattered little though, now that one of the young banshee’s associates had shown up. Eithne eyed the man curiously, though also with a hint of judgment. Her head shook. “How can it be the wrong place? We know Kavanagh — though we call her Regan.” Well, usually they called her a leanbh, a disgrace, an embarrassment, dirty spot. But it was probably better to sound like they had some fondness for the other, rather than pure disdain.

How strange, that a human man would bring bones to the house of a banshee who’d abandoned her post. She should not get to enjoy the fruits of fate’s labor like that! She should not get to enjoy anything. If she wanted to be surrounded by decay and death she should have remained where she was supposed to, rather than swap their home for this horrid place.

(Right, admittedly — there were some good parts about this town. Like the pit of death that was her temporary home. It reminded her of Ireland. It reminded her of their own death pit.)

“Well,” she said, “If you promised her, you must come through. Promises are very serious.” Eithne doubted that Regan Kavanagh was clever enough to trap human men into binds that had them delivering bones to her. It was quite a good ploy, though. Perhaps she would use it in the future. “I would take the cookies, they are delicious. What is it you did on this moose tour? We are always interested in …” A pause. “Recreational exploits.” She held out her hands expectantly for the shirt, assuming that she’d simply be handed it as well as the answers to her questions. She was a servant of fate, this was a human man. It was to be expected.

—

Angelina was proud of the younger banshee although perhaps she was being a little forward with the human. Still, she quietly observed eyes flickering between them. She wasn’t one to interfere with others, unless needing correction. She could see the scowl on Eithne’s face on the idea of Regan getting bones, perhaps she was right to have it. Regan after all had caused quite a mess in town, and they were here mostly to fix her mistakes. Angelina had less anger towards the young banshee than many of the others, partially perhaps because she was a ‘mothering’ figure - but it didn’t change the fact that they were here to right terrible wrongs. At least however, Eithne had gotten to stay in a death pit. It had seemed rather novel, but alas there weren't very good options for baking cookies in a death pit. Alas some dreams weren’t meant to be. 

“They are good, here - have a scapula you’ll like it I’m sure,” Angelina said slightly brightly, putting the plate of cookies closer to the man trying to tempt him to drop the real bones and shirts. After all, they might be clues to what Regan had been doing. Also there was a bit of pity that he never had such a cultured treat - but only a little. Doing so she moved subtly to the side of him. “You didn’t tell us your name.” She was trying to play good cop to Eithne, moving him in to get into grabbing distance if necessary. 

—

“You do?” Kaden felt foolish for saying it as soon as the words left his lips. They said her name, they were in her cabin, it wasn’t unreasonable to think they knew her. “Right. Promises.” Something about the way the first woman said the word was concerning. It tickled the back of his mind, begged for him to pull on some threads of memories from his hunter training, but Kaden shrugged it off. It didn’t matter, he was sure of it. And even if there was some supernatural bullshit happening here, he had no intention of killing anyone. Didn’t. Matter. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather give these to her myself. If– when she comes back.” He held tightly to the shirt and the bones wrapped within. There was no damn reason to assume Regan would come back, not with the current scenario right in front of him. Kaden wasn’t about to give these strangers her shirt, though. Even if they did know her name, that just meant they could read a deed. It didn’t mean they knew her. If they did, they wouldn’t have let him walk right through the front door. 

The second woman offering cookies didn’t make the whole thing any less strange, that was for sure. “Uh, sure. I guess.” He reached out and took a cookie, hesitating to bring it to his lips. Kaden took a small nibble to be safe. It wasn’t bad but there was something a little off about it. The same way Kavanagh was always just a little off kilter. And the way these women were much farther off than that. He couldn’t put a finger on what it was but there was a familiarity to them that he couldn’t place. Accents that he couldn’t quite place, either. They sounded like they were from somewhere in the UK but damned if he could identify the subtleties of different accents when speaking English. It was all from that area-ish. 

Then again, Regan was apparently in Ireland, right? So why had Ireland seemingly come to her instead? 

Better yet, why wasn’t she in her own damn cabin while these Irish freaks were digging around in it? After he swallowed back the last bite of the cookie, Kaden clenched his jaw and started to angle himself towards the back wall where the weapons were so casually leaning. That ax looked pretty nice. A few more steps and he could reach out and grab it but he had to be subtle. “Kaden,” he said, eyes locked with the cookie-woman as he shifted to the left. “That’s my name.” They probably figured that out.

“The moose tour was just–” Putain, Kaden didn’t know how to explain the moose tour to anyone else. Well, at least it might give him time to keep shifting his position in the room. “She seemed really fixated on these screaming moose and shit like that so I suggested the tour because I knew she’d hate it and it would be funny. Which it was. For the record. And strange.”  Which was par for the course in this town. He figured he’d leave out the mention of bies and the actual honest to god screaming moose for the moment. Especially while the ax was just a stone’s throw away. 

—

If or when she came back, the stranger said. Humans often spoke in ifs and whens, didn’t they? Eithne found it rather amusing, especially when they said if you die, as if there was anything uncertain about their fate. She found it amusing, but she also found it offensive. Just like it was in regards to Regan Kavanagh. There was no if, nor when she returned. She would not return. She would remain at home and get her senses together and otherwise, perhaps something else awaited her.

“She won’t be coming back,” she said decisively. It was the truth. It was so very simple. “If you want to give it to her, you must give it to us. You wouldn’t want to break your promise.” She wouldn’t stop him, though. Maybe he’d start convulsing. She’d be interested to witness it, even if she kept her hand outstretched expectantly. Just as she was certain that Regan would not return, she was certain that the shirt and bones (mostly the bones) would be hers.

Eithne watched the man chew on the bone biscuit, wondering if he could appreciate the wondrous cooking of Angelina. She wasn’t much of a cook herself, but she appreciated the elder’s baking. The bones looked very anatomically correct, which not every bone-biscuit maker was capable of doing. “Enjoy it.” She didn’t add as it might be your last, but the sentiment was hanging in the air. “I am Eithne.” 

She was puzzled by his answers, but the fact that the mooses were said to be screaming was some kind of pointer. “Did you learn anything of the screaming creatures?” Her arm was starting to hurt from leaving it stretched out for so long, but she had endured worse and longer pains. “Did she find it funny?” Her fingers danced, expectant. “Are you her friend?”

__

Angelina nodded at Eithne’s words. Regan, no matter what her fate was now, would not be returning here. “You should hand them over,” she said simply, an almost smile on her face. She had heard that humans liked it when you smiled when asking for something although she couldn’t quite remember the last time she had met a human that wasn’t about to die. Well, she supposed she still hadn’t. If Kaden was making promises to Regan - he might very well be fated to die too. 

Such was death.  

Still, she looked expectantly at the man to see if he liked the cookie but didn’t mention it. “I am Angelina.” She said simply following the younger words, her eyes carefully following the man to see the tension in the room. “Yes? Are they still around?” She wondered if that would make a good learning experience for the younger banshees. “Yes, are you Regan’s friend? We heard she has many friends. ” 

There was a tension there that wasn’t quite on Angelina’s face as it was on Eithne’s, as if she was preparing but not quite wanting it to show.

___________

Jade was thankful for the cabin. She totally was! It was nice having a place to finally keep all her weapons without worrying about any of her nosy roomies getting a peek at them. As if they didn’t think she was a weirdo already. (And like, she couldn’t keep excusing it as a sex thing, they might end up calling the police). So trust her, she was thankful for it. Especially now when she was constantly hurt and couldn’t abuse Elias's place like that. 

The cabin was way better than nothing, so she’d make the annoying trek as much as needed. Plus, Snickers. She couldn’t forget Snickers. Jade’s aching body carried a candle in her hands for the pixie this time around (it smelled like toffee). A bribe for another snippet of Regan’s first goodbye letter. The last one she got, which included a paragraph on her eyes and purge fluid, sure made an impression on her, so she was eager for more. (And then she was moving on!) (Last one, she promised!) 

As she neared the cabin, she picked up on what were definitely murmurs coming from inside. Huh… That was so not Snickers. Okay… how did anybody get in when she had the key? She probably left the window open, yup. She wasn’t used to being the only person at a place and like, checking all that stuff before leaving. What went on inside sounded like a normal conversation anyway. Jade fidgeted with the ring on her finger, deciding to just, screw it: she entered like she owned the place cause, well, she did. 

One good look at the small gathering was enough to pick up on the tense vibes. Why were the ladies giving her a familiar feeling? And why was that guy carrying something behind his back? He was like, exuding nerves. “Um, hi! Are you guys throwing me a party? My birthday isn't until October,” she offered a tentative smile, placing the candle on the table. “Unless it’s so not that, then… maybe it’d be nice if you could like, maybe leave my cabin? Wait, you didn’t eat my snacks did you?” She shot a look at the woman carrying cookies. Those weren’t hers…So maybe it was a party. 

—

The question they asked, “are you her friend,” somehow sounded like a threat. Kaden wasn’t sure what the hell was going on here but he was pretty sure Regan wasn’t here and that he probably shouldn’t be here either. His grip tightened around the shirt and the bones it was wrapped around and pulled them closer to his side as he took a step back. “You know, I think I’ll just head out, if that’s okay. I’ll mail her the–”

He was practically hit with the door as it swung open to reveal another woman. Putain de merde, if she was also Irish he was going to start to believe that Ireland really did come to Kavanagh. Was there a fucking portal between the places or some shit?

Once she spoke (no accent to be found), Kaden couldn’t say he was relieved. Not yet. “Your cabin?” His brows furrowed as he looked over at the dark-haired woman. “What the hell is going on here? And where the fuck is Regan and what the hell happened to her?” 

—

Someone else entered the cabin. Eithne whipped around, eyes boring into the stranger. She spoke as if this was her cabin, which it was not. It was Regan Kavanagh’s, just another part of her horribly dull and very annoying legacy in Wicked’s Rest. At least this Kaden-figure also seemed surprise by the other’s declaration, which was one measly point in his favor. (Not enough to save his life.)

“Regan is in Ireland,” Eithne stated simply, “And this is her cabin. We are here to collect her things for her.” Her hand made another grabby motion towards Kaden. She considered the other for a moment. There were a lot of people on their shared to do list, a fair amount of people to get through (both literally and figuratively — sometimes after blowing someone up with a scream Eithne liked to walk through the viscera). She didn’t recognize the person in front of her just yet but she was ringing a distant bell, “And you are? Besides the not-owner of this cabin?”

__

Angelina was fairly sure that this was getting out of control, as her head tilted at the newcomer. It seemed like Kaden didn’t know who she was either. “Yes, why do you know, Regan?” She said curiously looking at the new woman offering the plate of cookies. “And of course this isn’t a party there’s no amusements here. This town is lacking most of the things to make a proper birthday environment.” 

Still, keeping an eye on both of the strangers Angelina tilted her head. To Kaden she said simply, her voice loosing her attempt to be cheery - or at least as cheery as a banshee could get,“No. Give us the things for Regan, we will take them to her. If you leave now I assume that you are hiding something, which would be rather unfortunate.” 

__

“She’s in Ireland,” Jade answered the man, speaking simultaneously with the first woman. (Jinx!). A woman who had to be… she didn’t wanna say it, but she was already doing the math in her head. Ireland. Regan. Yup, she’d heard this story before, and she didn’t like the ending. She thought she’d have a third part with the twins, but she was actually getting her own spin-off. Jade reached for one of the cookies the other woman offered, cause like… she had manners and all, but before she could take a bite, her gaze moved tentatively around the room. Until it landed back on the first lady. “I don’t think I wanna give you my name. Or my phone. I’m not getting you an Uber. Cause you’re gonna… you’re like the murder twins, aren’t you? You’ll…” hazel eyes darted between the women, already fearing for her ears. Her head whipped to the man, who, if Jade had to guess, was the only one who didn’t get the memo about this. “Don’t give them your name,” she warned him, lifting a hand. 

Mind you, Jade wasn’t scared about anything but her ears, but her belly did feel all kinds of sick thinking about Van, and how it could’ve been her opening the door to these strangers. So really, maybe it was for the best that she didn’t wanna talk to Jade anymore. (It kept her safe, and that mattered the most). That didn’t mean it wasn’t rude to have intruders again. Education in Ireland was really lacking. “You should give them what they want though… cause then they’ll leave, right?” she lifted her eyebrows at the women. Could they strike a deal, maybe? “You’ll leave us alone and go find bones or… have you seen the death pit? Must see for banshee tourists…” Oh. Crap. The B word slipped past her lips accidentally. She forgot not everybody was caught up with the plot. Her eyes flickered to the man, gauging his reaction.

—

Kaden rolled his eyes at the fucking mention of Ireland, like that answered all his questions. No one wanted to say where in Ireland or why or who the fuck they were or why they were here. Before he could try to ask again, the woman who just burst in was holding her hand up to stop him. Putain de merde. This was—

“Banshee tourists?” he repeated, brows raising as he looked back at the supposed cabin-owner. His gaze drifted back to the Irish visitors. “Putain de merde,” he grumbled, ironically wanting to scream. Of fucking course. Fae. Screaming. Weird death obsession. It was tempting to curse again but he didn’t have time to unpack all this shit or what it meant about Kavanagh and all their past interactions. 

Putain. Was she the screaming moose the whole fucking time? Or was she a banshee and a were-moose?

Right, not now. He furrowed his brow at the suggestion of this newcomer to hand over the shirt and bones. What the hell made her think they were gonna strike a deal? And even if they did, fuck that. He didn’t want to hand over Regan’s shirt to these fae. He didn’t trust them. For once, he was going to lean into past prejudices. It felt appropriate all things considered. 

Kaden almost tucked the shirt and bones into his back pocket, ready to get the fuck out of there, but he thought better of it. He still was unarmed. And he didn’t know if he could trust a single fucking person in this room. He had to get closer to one of those weapons without getting a literal earful. What a great fucking time to have super sensitive hearing. 

“Fine,” he said as he stepped towards Eithne, holding out the shirt. “You better make sure she gets this, got it?” Kaden’s hand reached out, about to drop the belongings into her hands, but instead he let go right before she could grab it, the shirt and bones falling to the floor. He slammed his heel on her foot and it gave him an opening to jump past her and snatch one of the axes leaning up against the wall. 

Kaden didn’t hesitate to line up the blade with Eithne’s neck. “Might want to take her up on that deal. This isn’t my usual weapon of choice but I’ll make it work.”

—

Eithne glowered at the newcomer. “I did not ask for you to give me your name. I am not so lowly that I take people’s names — I asked you to introduce yourself as a polite human. Did they fail to teach you manners?” Sometimes binds were useful, certainly, but she was an agent of Fate. A servant. She did not entertain herself by taking people’s names for her own amusement. Amusement was not one of her preoccupations. Her preoccupation right now was cleaning up a mess made by a child, who has grown to be friendly with humans who acted as childish as she did.

But the new woman said two things that interested Eithne. First there was, “The death pit, yes. I am familiar. I have made it my temporary home. Your town lacks in proper hotels.” Secondly there was the fact that she’d called them banshees, which got a reaction out of the man called Kaden. So she knew what they were, but he did not — though he seemed familiar with the concept, which made him just as much of an issue as the woman.

At least it seemed to stir something in the man, as he finally reached out with the things. It was probably because he respected her for what she was — an agent and servant of Fate, above him in the food chain and general hierarchy of the world. It was not the first time her general arrogance over her position in the world got in her way. As the shirt (and bones, most importantly) crashed on the floor and his foot connected with her toes she let out a roar. 

Before she could return the favor in some kind of way her neck was met with a blade. An axe, by the looks of it. Eithne breathed against it, not minding that with the expansion of her neck her skin grazed the sharp blade. “I have already seen the pit. I have aligned some of the bodies. I have arranged its bones. I have seen it. You are a fool if you think you can kill me. I’ll scream before you do.”

—

Jade got hit by two giant realizations at the same time. One, had they been together (hypothetically, as together as two people who exchanged meaningful jewelry could be), she should’ve taken Regan on a date to the death pit. How come she never thought of that before? That totally would’ve saved them months and months of will-they-won’t-they! Alas… It didn’t matter, she couldn’t beat herself up for it. That ship had sailed. Er… the plane had flown? Cause Regan was gone and she’d totally find way nicer pits in Ireland, and she was definitely having so much fun in them and Jade had missed a great chance, and yup. Fine. Mhmm. 

Right… Her second realization, far more relevant to the plot, please excuse her, she was gay and depressed: This guy knew how to wield a weapon. His movements were swift and smooth, and like… like someone might have trained him for it. So, like a lumberjack, maybe. Totes. But no matter how impressed she was by him, she really wished he hadn’t put an axe against that lady’s neck. They didn’t have Van with them to melt the floor when the banshees decided to scream the cabin down. Cause they would try. That was all they did. She had already lost Regan’s knife, plus Regan herself, she couldn’t lose the cabin. And Van would probably never wanna bail her out of this type of situation anyway, so like… rubbing salt in the wound. It would’ve been better for everybody involved if they could just… chill out. Count to ten, then maybe discuss a way to make everybody inside the cabin happy.  

And nope, hold on, wait. Jade looked at the women who had literally barged into her place. Why was she exercising caution? Screw that. She was tired of banshees walking into places demanding things, that little trick only worked for one banshee and one banshee only. This was her place. She reached for the loyal crossbow she carried on her back, pointing its nose toward the banshee holding the plate of cookies. And when tension kept everyone from acting, she stepped forward, inching toward the table. There was a holster taped underneath, a taser gun inside. She’d brought that for Van, technically… that first night they stayed here, after it became clear she wasn’t comfortable with a gun or a knife. But now it was looking super useful in Jade’s eyes. How did you stop a banshee from screaming? (A non-lethal way, please) A blade wasn’t gonna do it, a gun could’ve done but she was not gonna put a bullet in a living being. So, taser. If only she could grab it, if she could tell the guy…“I would love it if you guys could leave. Step out of my cabin, pretty please. I want nothing to do with Regan. I’m just… a homeowner.” She could’ve left it at that, but she had to make a point. She fired a bolt toward the woman, aiming just high enough for it to graze her shoulder. “That’s a warning. Next one goes into your throat,” she lied, but the good thing about Jade, those came out more convincing than the truth. 

—

If there was any doubt about who these weapons belonged to before, that was wiped away the second the “homeowner” in question shot her crossbow. Kaden had to assume she was a warden given how quickly she knew the women were banshees and how prepared she was. It would make sense. Not that this fucking town was one for making sense. 

Kaden noticed her gravitating toward the table and tried to see if there was anything there that might be useful. Nothing that he could see at first glance. Best not to let his eyes linger unless he gave away whatever the hell plan the other hunter (presumed) had. 

“Putain de merde. What is with you all and bones?” Before the banshee beneath the blade of his axe could answer, Kaden lifted it and slammed the hilt down on her head. He hoped it would knock her out and spare them the screaming, maybe even give the maybe-warden a chance to grab whatever it was by the table. 

—

The new woman was quick. It was impressive, for a human, to shoot into action so quickly, and Eithne would have given her the credit, had there not been an axe at her neck. It was a bit of an insult, really — axes to necks should be reserved for the undead, should they not? She did not know an awful lot about killing them, but she knew that beheading them was a prime and well-loved method. She refused to go by axe by head. One day, Eithne hoped to die slowly and respectfully, letting herself enjoy the process created by Fate with her full attention. Not like this.

Things went fast, as they were wont to do in situations like these. The fast woman shot a bolt through Angelina’s shoulder, the man lifted the axe and Eithne wielded her own weapon. The superior one, mind you — the one that had been granted to her through her father’s death, the hard work that had followed and her subsequent and continued dedication to Fate. 

She opened her mouth and screamed, not loud enough to kill the man in front of her — just loud enough to make him stop in his tracks and subdue him so she could put more care in his inevitable death. But before the scream could fully leave her lungs and finish, the hilt of the axe hit her against the head. Eithne’s world went black as she fell, her scream continuing to ring in her ears. 

—

It was gonna take some quick feet and precise hands to reach under the table, draw the taser gun, shoot either of the intruders and somehow keep their hearing intact. Cause any fumbling would allow the banshees to give them an earful, which, since her encounter with the murder twins, Jade wasn’t too big of a fan. Luckily, she had always received compliments on how skillful her fingers were. And luckily (?), she had nothing but reckless confidence. So of course, she was gonna go for it. What was the worst that could happen? (Rhetorical, thank you). 

At least the foreign lumberjack (where was that accent from?) had stepped in and had the other banshee one under control, for a moment. Cause she screamed and he reacted (or he attacked and she reacted? Not now, conscience!), and it was like one second of distraction, but one second enough for Jade to reach the edge of the table and feel the holster underneath. The banshee’s scream was cut short before they were reduced to a million little pieces (whew!), then the thud of her unconscious body hitting the floor earned her a few more extra seconds. The other banshee grappled with her buddy being knocked out by the lumberjack, but she would soon howl about it, no doubt, so Jade was speedy, hoping to get ahead of her.  

She drew the gun, aimed the little laser dot at her body, and fired the probes that struck the target. Electricity crackled and Jade watched it do its thing. Then came the thud of a second body hitting the ground, incapacitated. But also worth noting, the plate had cracked, cookies spilling on the floor. Yikes. (That did make her a little sad). At least neither of the banshees could scream at them anymore? She left the gun and her crossbow on the table, and let out a breath. (Ouch, her ribs). Her gaze found the tall lumberjack. “I’d like them out of my place,” she repeated. She didn’t care how exactly. But if the guy had been here before her, then he had to be followed right? And actually, why was this guy at her place too? Her eyes dipped to the shirt. “Is that for Regan? She really isn’t here, trust.” And it was so chill. So fine. So not life-altering. “I’m her… associate. I can… could hold it for her if she…um, comes back.” She thought of that one message, Regan made it sound like something had gone wrong. Like they were gonna attempt an escape. So maybe…

—

The same pain that pierced his ears the day that Kaden and Regan had faced off that bies with the screaming moose shot through them now. It was all he could do not to throw his hands up to his ears and scream himself, but he managed to clench his jaw and whacked the hilt of the axe against the fae’s head one more time. Just for good measure.

Before he could check to see if the warden needed help with the other banshee, there was a gun in her hand and electricity surging through the fae in question. “Taser?” he said, nonchalantly now that both of the bodies on the floor were silent. “Weird place to keep it but nice job.” Kaden leaned the axe back against the wall where he’d found it and then, finally, rubbed his ears. Putain, he could still hear her but it sounded like he was listening through cotton swaps that had been shoved into his ears. 

He leaned down to grab the shirt and bones he’d brought with him, carefully wrapping it all up like a small package again. “Okay,” he said, looking up at her with furrowed brows before he could even finish gathering his (well, Regan’s) belongings. Was she asking him to take care of the bodies? Or what? 

Actually, he had a whole lot more questions for this apparent “homeowner,” now that he thought about it. “It’s hers, yeah.” Once again, Kaden found himself holding onto the shirt a little tighter as he stood back up. “I’d rather get it to her myself.” Somehow. He didn’t know how. Not like the bratty bugbear was going to help him out. Wynne, maybe? That wasn’t the point. “If you don’t mind. I know it’s important to her.” 

The weapons, the fact that she knew these were banshees before Kaden had a clue they were even fae, it still led him to believe she might be a warden. And it sure was interesting for a warden to move into Kavanagh’s cabin, confident that she wouldn’t ever return. “How do you know here, anyway? And how’d you end up, uh, here? You said it was your cabin. Did she give it to you?” Maybe he shouldn’t be quite so suspicious of this woman. It was possible (if not likely) that Regan cared a lot more about her than she did about him. If nothing else, it seemed like Kavanagh had informed her that she’d left, which was more than she’d said to him. This was assuming she wasn’t a warden who killed the medical examiner, of course. 

—

“I am a little unconventional,” Jade dismissed with a small hand wave. She didn’t think this guy wanted the tea on Van and the banshee twins anyway, which is why the taser even existed in the first place. And again, it felt like Van was keeping her safe, in a roundabout way. (The sting was harder to ignore now that there was no imminent threat) (But, forget about her).

Jade only noticed the bones as he bent down to grab the shirt and… wow, okay. Something rubbed her the wrong way. This guy really must’ve known Regan well. He knew she liked bones and he knew where her super secret cabin was? And on top of that, he had one of her shirts? Hello? Why was that? Who was he? Her eyes shot daggers at him, a sudden urge to get his kneecap burning through her. “Uh… huh,” plus he was tall, and had nice hair. Nope, stop it. What was the point of getting jealous when Regan wasn’t even here anymore? “Right. Um. I get it, wanting to keep something of hers.” She closed her hand, wishing she could feel the fabric of the shirt. (Did it smell like her, too?) Instead, she felt the ring on her finger press against her palm. 

He seemed to be similarly curious about her, at least. Which, all kinds of fair. Cause she had all these weapons and she knew about banshees and… yup. Her throat felt a little tingly as she tried to find the right words to answer the lumberjack’s question. How did she even begin to describe what she and Regan had been to each other? “She gave the cabin to me, before she left. We… Ulcers, you know? And then… one thing led to another and we found bog lemmings… and oh, the hotel,” she let out an anguished sigh. He was following, right? She couldn’t make it any clearer. It wasn’t easy talking about all of this now that she had that message in her inbox. What if someone had gotten to Regan? She blinked her allergies away, and sniffled softly. “I’d like to get these ladies out of my place, please? They’re not the first banshees to come after me. I think… they might know we… collaborated”. 

—

The creases between Kaden’s nose and brow deepened as he watched the woman, warily. She looked angry. Was she angry at him? Why? And why would she think he wanted to keep something of Reg– oh. “Uh, no it’s not like that,” he added, holding his hand up like a surrender. “I mean, yeah, I took my pants off the first time I met her but that was because of the wound. She had to treat it. I mean she didn’t have to but she insisted because, I mean you met her, you know how that–” Right, he was rambling and definitely making things more awkward and fucking weird. “I have a boyfriend.” Great. Definitely didn’t make things any more awkward by spitting that out. 

Kaden cleared his throat, hoping it would also clear the air a little. “I just know the shirt is important to her. And I told her I’d give it back to her. So I’d feel better if I could make sure I got it to her myself. Things usually go sideways when you get a middle man involved. No offense.” Putain, he really should just hand it over to the maybe-warden in question. There was no reason for him to hold onto it. What did it matter if he was the one to return it to Kavanagh or not? She probably didn’t care one way or another so why the hell did he? Stupid. There was no good reason to think that stitching him up a few times meant they had any kind of bond. If that were the case, there were plenty of people out there he should be checking in on a lot more frequently. 

One of Kaden’s brows rose higher and higher the longer little miss homeowner spoke. Ulcers, lemmings, hotel? Right, no clue what those had to do with each other but it was weird enough in succession that it almost made sense for Kavanagh. Hotel made at least a little sense. They had gone to a hotel and then Regan gave her the cabin. “Right. Sure. I… ” He couldn’t lie, he didn’t understand. “Sure.” He had no idea what the fuck she was talking about but he got the sense that Kavanagh gave a shit about her and vice versa if she knew where this place even was. Hell, he’d just stumbled upon it by accident and she’d been invited there. Not to mention the tears welling up in her eyes. “I take it you were close.” Or at least whatever that meant in Regan’s world given her “no friends” bullshit. There was no way they were dating. Couldn’t be. How the hell could you date if you only had acquaintances? Must have been one hell of a crush this woman had. Kaden almost felt sorry for her.

He should just hand her the fucking shirt. But he couldn’t force his hand to reach out in front of him to hand it over. Instead, he tucked it into his back pocket along with the moose antlers he’d nearly forgotten he had with him, too. Merde. Hopefully he wasn’t going to have to try and explain those again. Once was bad enough. It was only funny when he got to tease Kavanagh about the whole ordeal, not when other people tried to poke fun at his expense. Nora and her friend did more than enough of that. 

“Yeah, alright. I’ve got you.” Kaden gave a quick stretch and then hooked his arms under the armpits of the first banshee, dragging her out of the cabin. Wasn’t like this was his first time moving bodies. “Wait, there are more of them? Putain de merde. I thought banshees were supposed to be incredibly rare. And now they’re fucking coming out of the goddamn woodwork. Going to get reports and stupid calls about more fucking screaming moose, too, I’m sure.” He continued to grumble to himself as he pulled the body down the stairs as gently as he could manage. Kaden paused at the last step, banshee still at an incline. “Uh, where are we putting them?” Probably a good thing to figure out. “I’ve got a truck way back there.” She had to know how long a fucking walk it was. “We could drag them to the middle of the woods or maybe load them up, drive them and dump them somewhere on the other side of town.” Somewhere that was nowhere near either his cabin or the farmhouse, ideally. 

—

“That’s gay,” Jade pointed out with a frown, one she immediately fixed when she finished processing. Cause, the lumberjack was taken. So he couldn’t steal Regan (already all the way in Ireland, mind you) from her. “Okay,” she breathed out a laugh, a twinkle of amusement finally reaching her eyes. Whew! What a relief. “Good on ya, I hope he’s cute,” she offered her hand for a fist bump, but ended up bumping into his shoulder when the gesture wasn’t returned.

She eyed the shirt once more, and this time Jade stayed totally chill despite the fact that it had been near a half-naked man at one point. She agreed with his comment though. Fine. The middle man was definitely tricky. But also? One of the funniest parts of playing the telephone game, actually. Chaotic neutral, in a way. Her eyes prickled again when he pointed out the obvious. She and Regan were close. (Keyword, were). Her bottom lip quivered. It was fine though, she could get through this without making a scene. “Mhm, yup. So close. We were like Jack and Rose. The lemmings, not... They died banging, you know? That’s what Regan told me,” and apparently both of them looked ecstatic.   

Maybe this rugged lumberjack was uncomfortable with big feelings on display, or maybe he realized having a convo with two unconscious bodies was kinda awkward. (Not to her, though. She still remembered kissing Regan while Mark Whatshisname chilled on the ground). But he was finally ready to do something about it, and she was so excited to get her cabin back. Weird. “Yup. I got stabbed by one of them. They were like, Gen-Z twins, so be careful. I’m pretty sure they’re in some kinda Men in Black business in town,” and they were definitely coming from Ireland. But why? When the best of Wicked’s Rest was already gone. She joined the man’s efforts, grabbing the other unconscious banshee. Her poor plate of cookies. Not even the five-second rule would save them. And she was definitely not offering them to Snickers. 

The idea of dumping them somewhere while unconscious filled her belly with dread (for no reason at all, not like… she’d been there, done that a couple days ago). But at least they wouldn’t be tied and… okay, fine.  “I was gonna ask you to help me get them to the road, and I’d get them an Uber to the death pit. But I like yours way better, ” she lied with a tight smile. “Alright,” she also pretended every freaking muscle didn’t scream with the effort. And as she watched both of them do this thing with a little more ease than your average person, Jade concluded the foreign lumberjack might have a little of that special sauce, too. Which kinda filled her with excitement, but she wasn’t in the mood to sell him on the group chat yet. Peace and a warm shower were at the top of her priorities. (Plus a snack) But she’d track him eventually. They were bound to cross paths anyway, this town was freaking small. Maybe then, they could chat not only about his ability with the axe, but what Regan really meant for the other. 

[questioned-quetzalcoatl]

30 Days of OTP - Day 17, Spooning

Rating: K

Verse: Canon

AN: I love me some good morning cuddles, you could say this goes hand in hand with the Day 2 prompt (°∀°)b

Ah cutest of cuties with snuggliness qwq I can't help myself

--

Kainga smiled when he heard the heavy snores coming from behind him, eventually dozing off in his arms with the idea that James was fast asleep; he’d taken his chance, as always, because he knows Kainga will kick him off at some point, snuggling against the Tongan as he slept, the other fitting perfectly against him and smiling to himself as the other actually shivered as his arm went around his waist. Kainga is cold, that’s to be expected, and lord knows the other had poor circulation at the best of times.

James like these moments, though he’s sure Kainga is unaware of them, where he can be fully affectionate with the other, where he can hold him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear because sometimes, despite how he was, he’d fumble over his words concerning this. When he's the big spoon it's like cloud nine, cuddled up to Kainga who's held closely and warmly in his arms. He doesn't mind the occasional kick or nudge from Kainga when he spoons him incorrectly in his own standards, making up by a kiss to his neck and a gentle. "I love you Kainga." Mumbled against the Tongan's neck, feeling the prickles of his colder skin under the shiver of his breath. Not noticing the hitch of Kainga's breath when the words escaped the Kiwi's lips against him.

He keeps it to himself like a treasure, James doesn't know that he's awake, listening to everything he tells him while under the impression that Kainga is asleep. He's not, far from it. Cuddled with his back against James's torso, curled around him, Kainga will never admit how much he loved him like this. Mainly not snoring, especially when the Kiwi cuddling him snored so loud it could mistaken for a rumbling tank. He finds it cute that James is unaware that he's listening or the fact the other usually leaves his cheeks burning with the words he’ll whisper at night when he pulls him closer. Smiling to himself and waiting until he hears the other snoring before eventually whispering back. "I love you too, James"

Silence fell over the room, he knew he'd been caught in the act. The fluster of his cheeks when James had stopped snoring. So the bastard was faking it too, they both knew the other all too well. Caught like a deer in the headlights when James stirs from behind him, Kainga can only shove his face into the pillow to hide from him. Expecting some sort of teasing flirting from James to but stuck into his ears at any given moment.

But there was nothing that was said between them in that moment.

Just the tightening of James's arms around his waist, pulling him in ever so closer. A kiss planted on his cheek before the lips they belonged to moved to his ear. Cuddled up so close to him that he could feel the heat rise off of Kainga's body, the type of heat that'd only rise when he got flustered in James's arms. Getting even hotter as James only got closer to him, a small laugh is huffed out from the Kiwi at Kainga's slight whine with his squirm in James's tighter spooning.

"I love you more, Kainga."

[rwprincess]

Two Worlds Collided

Masterlist

A/N: Oh, an anachronistic songfic from RWPrincess? But this time it’s about John Bender! :D Inspired by Never Tear Us Apart (originally by INXS in 1987, but I particularly like this Paloma Faith version)

Word Count: 2K

Synopsis: Bender met reader at the Breakfast Club and the two seemed like opposites, but they shared a common hidden sadness. Over the years, feelings and relationships change.

CW: Swearing, sexuality, Bender being a general asshole

Bender had met her the same way everyone in the Breakfast Club had, on the Saturday detention on March 24th. He had seen her in the hallways prior to that as he was always observant. He had seen everyone in the Breakfast Club before that day; but he hadn’t given her much thought. Now, he was paying attention to little else. He had no idea why he was drawn to her; they were both so different and he could never picture himself with a goody-two-shoes like that. But the way she had reacted to his more vulnerable, real moments, how she tried to make a connection with him...that stuck with him. He knew he should have learned from his disastrous blow-up with Claire that two people who were so different just wouldn’t work out. He repeated this to himself over and over, like a mantra, but it never changed how he actually felt.

After the breakup, the Breakfast Club had a split between those who chose Bender and those who chose Claire. Of course, Andrew sided with Claire unconditionally, but John considered that as no big loss. Allison tried to play the middle ground and Johnson had sided more with him, but he was surprised at the wholehearted backing he received from Y/N. He had assumed that she would either try to be neutral like Allison, or pick Claire. She had no reason to side with him, he had always come off as an aloof ass. But she had, and he was eternally grateful for that. He had originally decided to get together with Claire because the notion had a hot, forbidden quality to it. They spent time insulting each other and making out to make up for it. It was as passionate as it was destructive, so of course it couldn’t last. However, when he was alone and reflected to himself, he had been attracted to Y/N all along. She was hot, yes, but he had plenty of good-looking girls to choose from. He was more drawn to that kind, quiet inside she had displayed that day. How she had gone out of her way numerous times to reach out to him and had been genuinely nice to him. Most of the time, someone only did that to gain something for themselves. Whether it was to use him or to make themselves feel better, it depended on the person, but with Y/N that never felt like it was the case.

Don't ask me

What you know is true

Don't have to tell you

I love your precious heart

He thought back to the first time he saw her on that Saturday, walking into the library and looking so out of place. He was already adjusting into his spot when she entered and she froze in front of all the tables like a deer-in-the-headlights, as if she had just materialized there and had no clue what she was doing. He remembered feeling both attracted to that doe-eyed look and scoffing internally at it. While she wasn’t part of the cliques that Andrew and Claire were, she had a very sheltered look to her and he was envious of that type of innocence. Her ignorance must have been bliss compared to the hell he lived each day at school and at home. She was just as out of place as the preppies or ultra-dweeb Johnson, but instead of being offended by that notion, she looked terrified. She meekly put her items on the front-row desk opposite to him and he thought about all the fun he could poke at everyone here, including her. However, the first blow did not land well. Bender loved making people uncomfortable, but he didn’t necessarily want to make them cry. He’d made some off-handed remark towards her. He had been circling her and eyeing her, employing the discomfort he liked inflicting, trying to ‘guess’ why she was in detention. “I bet you were caught fooling around with a teacher, right? Always the quiet ones that you’d least suspect…”

John Bender rarely regretted his words or actions. He knew he was an asshole and let unfiltered thoughts through so that he could be the center of attention. In doing so, he had to stand by all the shit he said, even when he crossed a line. This was one of the scattered occasions in which he felt remorse, though. She didn’t reply, not verbally, anyway, but she looked scared shitless and was rooted to the spot. Tears instantly sprang up in her eyes and she looked as if she were about to hurl right on his combat boots. He backed off after that. He didn’t apologize, because that’s not something John Bender could have on his reputation, but he didn’t target her. There was something so sincere about her reaction and he saw himself reflected in that expression. Not the tough-as-nails persona he projected, but his secret self who had seen too much too early in life and could barely stand another blow. He didn’t know what her deal was, but there was a heavy sadness behind those eyes that was far too real for him to tamper with.

When he had shown the group his souvenir for spilling paint in his garage, courtesy of his father, she must have seen that reflection back. No one in that group actually knew him. They all thought he was a lying sack of shit; what could he say? His reputation preceded him. But he caught her gaze as he backed away from the group, and the sadness in her recognized the sadness in him. He felt an odd sort of click, a mutual understanding, but he turned away from them all and trashed the library.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

That was months ago, and out of everyone he met that day, she was the one who truly stuck by him. He’d surprisingly connected with Johnson, sure. Everybody likes to get high and Bender was the supplier. And he and Allison had similar interests, but she wouldn’t give up Andrew and with that territory came Claire...there was just no going back to that. But Bender still had Y/N, and he could never understand it. The first time he had brought her into his friend circle, he tried to justify it as sticking to his word and ‘having the balls to stand up to his friends’ like he had told Claire to do. He also reasoned that it was some sort of social experiment. As much as he liked to portray himself as someone who couldn’t care less, Bender was entirely social. He craved attention and admiration for others and could read just about anyone like a book. Maybe that’s why he didn’t mess with Y/N after that first comment landed so wrongly. He felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling and decided to back off. However, it wasn’t just some ‘watch and see how she interacts’ set up; Bender genuinely wanted her there. He wanted to integrate her into his life.

She was still extremely quiet, mostly a speak-when-you’re-spoken-to type, but he started to peel back layers in her personality. He found that, despite that lurking sadness, there was an unending pool of optimism. She tried to see the best in situations and in people. She meshed incredibly well with his friends because she listened instead of judged. She would nod along like she knew exactly what they were talking about and how they felt. He started to develop an attachment to her. While he was still dating Claire, he told himself it was akin to having a pet. Y/N was like a goldfish that he could tell his problems to and know the secret would be kept. But after Claire, he realized that wasn’t the case...particularly when he sought Y/N’s comfort above all else. He divulged the entire last big fight he and Claire had to her, and she was just so...reassuring. After that day, he began to see her in a different light. He argued with himself over what his feelings and intentions actually were, but he couldn’t keep them at bay for long. She was good for Bender. He had never felt lighter.

Of course, Bender had not known stability in his life ever, and the risk of falling for Y/N and having it mean something and being accountable to one person overwhelmed him. He did what he knew best: he fought it and ran away from it. At first, he tried to avoid her, just distance himself. But he’d gravitate back; being without her was too heavy to bear. He wanted to try to actively push her away, to fuck up this relationship with his words, just like he did with everything else. But when he opened his mouth to try to lie, to say he didn’t need her or want her around or whatever, he would look into her eyes and it became impossible. He remembered the way he had shaken her to her core the first day they met, and he couldn’t allow himself to bring that sadness up again in her.

We could live for a thousand years

But if I hurt you

I'd make wine from your tears

Eventually, he gave in. While he was able to control his words to not say anything harmful, he wasn’t able to contain them from slipping up and telling her, “Dammit, I love you!” It wasn’t in a context that could be taken as joking or being said flippantly; she knew immediately what he meant and that he meant those words, wholly.

She took his face in her hands and told him, “I love you, too.” There was no turning back, and as the years passed, they fell deeply in love. He'd dug up her secrets and fears, but she seemed to trust him enough to not use them against her in any way. They both dreaded the prospect of never getting out of Shermer and falling into the same circular trap their parents had. However, he reassured her that the moment they had the opportunity, they would bust out of there. He lucked out that Claire had never asked for her diamond earring back. It was probably one of many and she had forgotten she had even given it to him as a token. He decided to pawn it to top-off the savings he and Y/N had accrued. "You're too good for me, you're sure as hell too good for this place,'' he told her. The trade-in was enough to get them out of town and start anew, but only one of them could really ‘move up’ for now. While they argued back and forth about who should get to pursue which dream, Bender rationalized to her, “I was barely cut out for high school. I can’t really do college. And that’s okay. You’re the brains in this relationship, I’m the beauty.” He winked at her and with her laughter as response, that sealed the deal of who was going to school.

I told you

That we could fly

'Cause we all have wings

But some of us don't know why

She searched the crowd, holding her diploma. Bender had supported her both financially and emotionally these last four years and now they had the degree to prove it. She felt pride in being able to take over from him and let him follow a new path. He had always been good with his hands, but despite his protests, he was good with his mind too. He was a sharp-thinker and she knew that he could make a career that he loved out of that. She’d be there to push and brace him as he had done for her. Finally, she spotted him. When their eyes connected, she felt that same crackle that she had the first day they had met, all those years ago. Before the friendship and the love, she knew there was a spark there, that they were two of a kind, even though they were so different.

I, I was standing

You were there

Two worlds collided

And they could never tear us apart

[jungkookah-lover]

A Bottle of Wine with Jungkook

⟶ pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⟶ genre: Acquaintances to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 6411

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: Jungkook decides to have a bottle of wine in his hotel room after a concert on tour (like he did on his vlive) but this time has you to keep him company. Once the wine is finished, conversation takes an interesting turn.

⟶ warnings: fluff, smut, JK is a bit of a Dom but two can play that game, JK likes to hear what you want and then give it to you

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The bottle was empty much faster than anticipated. You were having such a good time, neither of you realized it was gone until he tipped the bottle to refill your glass and only a few drops came out. He groaned in frustration at the two measly drops as they slowly ran down the side.

“Dang, we are out of wine. I didn’t realize we would go through it so fast or I would have bought more.” Jungkook says with an embarrassed tone to his voice. He drank half the bottle, just like you, and you could tell from the pink of his ears and face that he could feel it. He sticks his lip out making a sad face and you can't take your eyes off his pout. It was not the first time you had taken your time to appreciate his lips. Whether he was smiling, laughing, or focused, his mouth was eye-catching and caused you to think about what he might be able to do with it other than smile and pout. You quickly realize you are staring and shake your head, trying to get rid of the thoughts.

“It is okay, Jungkook. It is probably for the best. I think you are tipsy and I am pretty sure I am too. If I drink anymore I cannot promise I will be able to control myself.” You say in an attempt to make him feel better and tell him that you didn’t want to do something stupid.

His eyes that were fixed on the empty glass quickly jump to your face as he says, “What would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. What would you do?”

There is a glimmer in his eye that was not there before. He had been playful all night, joking and dancing on the edge of flirting, yet he had not looked at you like this. Suddenly you realize your error. Even though you meant it to sound innocent, all you could think about was whether his mouth would taste like wine and if it would be better on your tongue than what you just drank. You’ve been sitting slightly away from him all night in an attempt to not let your hands wander to his obviously muscular arms. He would never know your light caresses were more than friendly, a way for you to touch him. No, you had been well behaved. Now he was looking at you and you are a deer in headlights after letting that comment slip.

“Oh, you know,” you say half laughing and half stuttering, “Too much alcohol causes people to lose their inhibitions and do things they usually wouldn’t do.”

“What types of things?”

“Pardon?” you reply quickly, your eyes looking into his curious ones.

“You said people do things they usually wouldn’t do. What things are you not doing?”

Your laugh is a bit sudden and desperate, coming from somewhere in your chest. You can feel your face starting to heat as you look everywhere but at his face. Is the AC working because it is getting warm? There is no escaping this line of questioning so you decide to turn it around on him instead. “What do YOU think, Jungkook?”

He sits there, staring into your eyes for what was probably a few seconds but felt like an eternity. At some point within that time he must come to some form of decision because he squints at you, smirks, and starts getting out of his chair.

“What are you doing?” falls frantically from your lips as he gets up from the desk chair, walks over, and goes down on one knee in front of you. Knowing it was a bad idea to sit on the bed when you arrived, you instead opted for the barrel chair by the window. You are now regretting this decision because there is nowhere to go. You are literally in a corner, in a chair that doesn't allow for much wiggle room. Now you are stuck between a chair and a handsome smirking Jungkook.

He places his hands on the arms of the chair, so close to your arms, before saying, “What do I think? Well first of all, I think your cheeks are rosy and even though you have drunk half a bottle of wine, it's not from the wine.” You swallow nervously as he continues. “Secondly, I think there are a number of things I want to do but I want to know what it is YOU want to do, Kitten.”

“Kitten?...KITTEN!...this cannot be happening,” you think as you feel your heart rate accelerate. He is so close. The tips of his fingers ever so slightly touch the skin on your arms. His eyes, currently level with yours, are staring at you with unwavering intent. He is waiting for you to respond, you can tell, but you don’t have any words.

“How about I help you out just this once, hmm? Just know the next time I ask you a question, I expect an answer.” He tilts his head to the side playfully as he responds and you can't believe what was coming out of this adorable, funny, bunny-like guy’s mouth.

He leans in, perfectly caging you into the chair, his face half a foot away. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you the entire time you have been in this hotel room. Every time you took a sip of wine, I couldn’t stop thinking about your lips, wrapped around that glass, and what they would feel like on me.” His eyes darted to your mouth as he said that and you unconsciously bit your lip. His eyes got wider and he takes a deep breath through his nose in response. “You have been sitting in this chair, cuddled up, laughing at my bad jokes, and all it did was make me want to be closer to you.” His hands move, sliding over your elbows resting on the armrests, up your biceps, and back down your forearms until they rest on your knees. He leaves them there as he continues, almost whispering at this point, “I have wanted to touch you this entire time and could barely hold myself into that chair. Now tell me, what is it YOU want?” He dips his chin as he looks into your eyes with a penetrating stare, hands still resting on your knees, thumbs lightly rubbing circles into your jeans.

His hands were so soft when they ghosted over your skin. You can feel the heat of his palms through the fabric of your jeans and it feels like it is alighting your entire body. An echo of his statement about expecting an answer runs across your thoughts as you try to figure out what to say. Part of you wants to know what will happen if you disobey him, but not right now. Right now you are letting desire and chance take over. Let’s go with the truth and see what happens.

“I sat in this chair, distanced from you, so I wouldn’t be tempted to run my hands over you. I couldn’t stop wondering how you would feel.” As you say this you slowly start leaning forward, closing the distance between the two of you. You place your hands, which had been resting gently on your stomach, on top of his. “I wanted to find out if your muscles were firm and if your skin was soft.” You ghost your fingertips around his fingers, the back of his hands, then circle his wrists to slide up his forearms to his biceps. “Every time your hair fell across your eyes I wanted to brush it away then sink my fingers into it.” With your right hand you brush the stray strands of hair from his forehead, making sure to run your fingertips across his brow. They continue their path down his temple before your thumb sweeps across his cheekbone, palm resting on his face. “I wondered if your mouth tasted like wine or if it tasted better because it tasted like Jungkook.” Staring directly into his eyes, you lean forward, closing the gap between your faces. Your eyes glance to his lips then back up right before your lips touch his.

It is a soft kiss, lips pressed together chastely. He doesn’t move, his only reaction is him gripping your knees a bit tighter. You pull away and drop your hand, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a surprised look. I guess he didn’t expect direct honesty and follow through in the same instant. Before you have the chance to question whether you made the wrong decision, his right hand comes up gripping your neck and his mouth lands on yours. This is not a soft kiss; it is urgent. His face is turned to fit against you perfectly as his lips are slotted against your own. His mouth moves against yours, gentle and confident. You respond in kind, parting your lips to wrap yours around his, lightly sucking his bottom lip.

When your tongue grazes his lip, he loses what control he has over himself. A light groan comes from him before he pushes forward, pushing you back into the chair. He kneels fully, spreads your knees apart, and slots his body against you. He kisses you with a new intensity as his hands run up your thighs to your hips then your waist. His right hand continues up, brushing your chest, eventually settling with his palm on your jaw and thumb running over your cheek. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth for him. He tastes divine as his tongue caresses yours. You are each giving exactly what the other asks for. When you push against him he responds with his own pressure. When you bite into his lip he returns the favor moments later. It is quiet yet loud, gentle yet intense, fulfilling yet making you crave more. His hands grip you firmly and ground you in the moment.

After an unknown amount of time he pulls away from you, not far but enough to let you breathe. You are both panting as he rests his forehead on yours, lips swollen and tasting of the other. His hands are still on you, one thumb running over your ribs while the other strokes your cheek.

“That was a better answer than I expected.” he admits as your mouth curves into a smile.

“It was honest.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” He says as he rubs his nose against yours. “I also appreciate your lips,” then plants a kiss on you that lingers even after he pulls away. “Can’t forget your tongue too.” This time when he goes in for the kiss his tongue immediately meets yours, giving it a long sultry swipe, before he pulls away to stare into your eyes. How can someone take your breath away and also feel like they are giving you life?

“I want to appreciate more of you,” he remarks as his hand on your waist slides slowly across your stomach, “all of you.” It slides upward between your breasts, thumb casually caressing the underside of one as it makes the journey to your heart. You shiver as his touch sends tingles through your body and he doesn’t miss it. “What do you want me to do to you?” His breathy whisper is light as you feel his exhale on your face. What DON’T you want him to do to you is a better question. You decide to show him. Placing your right hand over the one currently resting over your heart, you grab it and lower it until it is palming your breast. For emphasis, you squeeze his hand, squeezing your own breast as a result. His eyes track your movement and stay on your hand as it kneads your flesh. You watch him as he watches you, transfixed by his face. When he notices you watching he looks up into your eyes then kneads your breast on his own. This has a wholly different effect, causing your back to arch, eyes to close, and you to inhale sharply.

Your hand falls away from his as he says, “I asked you what you wanted me to do to you. As much as I enjoyed that, I want to hear it.” His last words are punctuated by him pinching and rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. A moan slips from your mouth as your head falls back onto the chair. “I told you before, when I ask you a question I expect an answer.” He tweaks your nipple again and it feels like lightning running through your veins. “Now I will ask you one more time, Kitten, what do you want me to do to you?” This time he pulls your nipple just a little while pinching it and you can feel the heat radiating from your skin as you moan an exhale.

“I want you to touch me. I want your hands on me. Your mouth on me. I want you.” The words fall from your mouth with abandon as you squirm in the chair. He is still so close, his smell taking over your senses. You can still taste him on your tongue. Your body is lit and your fingers itch to run over his body as much as you want his on yours.

Very suddenly he is standing. Within seconds he has pulled you up from the chair, reached down to the backs of your thighs, and picked you up. As he wraps your legs around his waist, his mouth once again lands on yours. This kiss is different from the others. Where the first was introductory and the second exploratory, this one is consuming. He is moving his lips against yours with speed and efficiency, sucking, biting, licking, and overwhelming your senses. His hands are on your thighs, holding you firmly to him. With your arms wrapped around his neck you kiss him back as you grind yourself against him. It is his turn to moan and he does, right into your mouth. He pulls you tighter to him as he reciprocates your movement. You can feel his hard length against your core and smile into the kiss knowing you are turning him on as much as he is you.

He walks you over to the bed, climbs on top, and lays you down amongst the pillows. His lips move from your mouth along your jaw, over to your ear, and down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes along. His body settles over yours, his weight solid and pleasing. When he gets to the junction of your neck and shoulder he bites down. You cry out, your moan the only sound in the room, as your heart races and your toes curl. “Do you like that?” he asks as he licks the spot he just bit. “Yes” rushes from your mouth as you try to catch your breath. “What else do you like?” He asks as he runs his left hand underneath your shirt, fingertips sliding across your skin as he lifts it higher.

“I like your hands on my chest. I want your mouth on my chest.” The words spill from you as he touches you through your thin bralette. Your nipples are hard and begging to be touched. A pleased noise comes from him before he says, “I can’t wait to see your breasts and taste them. Should I take off this shirt and give you what you asked for, Kitten?”

“Yes. Please.”

“So polite. How could I not give you exactly what you want when you are so sweet and responsive.” He raises up in order to get your shirt off. It gets caught on your head and you start to giggle. When it finally comes off you raise your face to his and catch him grinning with his bunny teeth on display. You are both grinning as he settles back down, scooting farther down this time to place soft kisses along your stomach. You are still wearing a bra but he seems to want it this way. His hands glide up your hips, waist, and sides until they are level with your breasts. His thumbs sweep out to circle your nipples. A groan leaves your mouth and you arch your back into his waiting hands. He takes his time, using the tips of his fingers to tease and flick, sometimes grabbing with his entire hand, cupping your breasts and rolling them all while he is kissing up your stomach and ribs. When his lips finally make it to your chest he plants gentle kisses everywhere but where you want his mouth. Exploring your flesh but not satisfying your need. You growl in frustration as he gets close to closing his mouth over your nipple, only to kiss around it, and he chuckles in response.

“What’s wrong Kitten, is there something you want from me?” He jokes as he does the same thing to your other breast, kissing but not hitting the mark. His thumbs again rub your nipples and you can’t believe how much you want him on you.

“I want you to suck on my nipples.” You state, embarrassment be damned, you need him to do this or you are going to burst.

He makes a sound low in his throat before he strikes, mouth latching onto your left nipple. It is just as good as you imagined. He sucks while his tongue swirls around the nub. He begins to flick his tongue and you whimper, right hand involuntarily reaching up to lace in his hair. He sucks again before lightly biting down and you can’t contain the sounds coming out of your mouth anymore. Just as fast as he was there, he switches to your other breast and your body bucks up against his. He repeats the attention he showed the other, licking, sucking, and biting, until both your hands are messing up his hair and your body is writhing in pleasure.

His hand snakes behind your back to unlatch your bra and he starts peeling the straps off as you raise your arms. He removes it, tossing it to the floor as his eyes slowly move from yours down to see your exposed breasts. When his eyes land on your hard nipples he bites his lip and takes a deep breath before looking up at you again. With gentleness he leans up and kisses you and whispers across your mouth, “You are so beautiful,” before he kisses you deeply and runs his hands over your bare breasts for the first time. You didn’t realize how much the fabric got in the way until his soft hands are on you. He detaches from your mouth and delicately suckles your right breast. It's like all your nerve endings are on high alert because every touch of his tongue sends heat straight to your core. You can feel yourself getting wetter the more his tongue is on you.

This entire time you have been taking anything he gives you but you want to show him how much you want him too. Your hands are in his hair and you begin running them across his shoulders, down his back, sides, arms. Anywhere you can touch him is where your fingers find themselves. You scrap your nails lightly along his back and he shivers. You continue exploring and begin pulling up his shirt to feel his warm skin. He stops his attention on your chest and sits up, pulling his shirt over his head. You drink him in, his lightly golden skin, abs, and pecs. You lick your lips, wanting to taste him. Before he has a chance to move you sit up, hands going to his slim waist, latching your lips to his stomach. You feel the muscles flex beneath your mouth. You glance up at him as your mouth moves across his abs. He is looking down at you with hooded eyes, lips parted, breath coming out in short bursts. You trail up his abs to his pecs and take one of his nipples in your mouth. Instantly, his right hand comes up to cradle your head and an audible moan falls from his mouth. Taking this as a sign to keep going, you swirl your tongue around his bud before sucking on it. His grip in your hair tightens and more moans fall from his mouth. You take your time, licking, biting, and sucking on one nipple before switching to the other. This time the moan that comes from him is loud and makes you shiver. You did not know how hot it would be to hear him moaning because of your actions.

“It sounds like you like that.” You say, inbetween licking him and flicking him. Causing him to twitch.

“Yes, you are so good with your tongue.” he responds with his eyes closed, caught up in the sensation.

His hard on is on full display now, with no way to hide it in his baggy sweatpants. It twitches upward every time you flick his nipple. You run your right hand down his body to wrap around his dick. His response is automatic. He bucks into your hand as he says, “ahhhh, oh god,” hand fisting harder into your hair. You palm him a few times before pulling away from his chest, grabbing his waistband, and pulling down his pants and underwear in one movement. His eyes are big and full of surprise when he looks at you but it is short lived when you wrap your hand around his now bare dick. Still kneeling he stays there, head falling back, eyes closed, hands landing on your shoulders. A bead of precum is oozing from his tip and you slide your thumb over it, spreading it around. He whines from the touch, fingers gripping into your shoulders. You begin moving your hand, slowly pumping him when you decide to play by his rules.

“What do you want me to do to you, baby?” You coo, looking up at him with seductive eyes. His head snaps up, eyes opening, taking you in. You run your thumb along his head again and his mouth drops open, tongue wetting his lips before he says, “I want to feel your tongue on my dick.”

With no hesitation you lick a stripe from the bottom of his shaft up his head. A deep moan comes from him as he steadies himself on your shoulders. You take his tip into your mouth and lightly suck while swirling your tongue. It takes everything in him not to buck into your mouth but he holds himself still and takes everything you will give him. Wetting your lips you slide your mouth along his dick until you hit the back of your throat. His left hand moves from your shoulder up to cup your neck. You hollow out your cheeks and begin a slow bobbing of your head. Constant moans are falling from his lips as you work his length. You glide your tongue along the sensitive underside of him and find the spots that make him twitch and shiver. You suck hard and bottom out, causing him to cry out only to slow down and draw out his pleasure. Your right hand begins to fondle his balls, causing him to cry out with “oh god yes, like that.” and hum your approval around his dick.

He grabs your face and pulls his body away from you. His dick leaves your mouth with a pop and a groan as you gaze up at him, lips swollen and covered in saliva and precum. His eyes are on fire, filled with need. He is breathing heavily and trying to get himself under control.

“As much as I love this mouth of yours, this is not how I plan on cumming tonight.” He says as he moves to lay down next to you on the bed, removing his pants in the process. His hands go to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping, trying to remove them with no success. You stand up, pulling your jeans off, wearing only your underwear when he says, “the panties too.” You grab the band at your waist and while staring him in the eyes you slowly lower your underwear to the floor. A smirk grows on his face as they hit the ground and you step out of them.

“Come here, Kitten.” He says and gestures to the bed and himself.

You lay down next to him on your side but he leans in and kisses you, causing you to fall to your back. His tongue is doing wonderful things in your mouth when you feel his fingers on your hip. They trail along your hip and thigh until they curl up to your center. He swipes one finger along your slit,rubbing but not exploring. The next time he is parting your folds.

“God, you are so wet.” He states as he rubs his finger in against your lips, spreading the wetness around more. His finger reaches the apex of your core and circles around your clit causing you to inhale sharply. “Do you like that?” he asks as he continues to rub you in just the right spot.

“Oh yes,” you moan into his mouth, feeling his cock twitch against your leg.

“Do you want me to put my fingers inside of you?”

“Yes, please fill me.” Comes out in a breath as he flicks his finger over your clit causing you to jerk in his arms.

“Ugh, that is so hot when you ask for it.” He states as he sinks his finger inside of you. Your hips jut upward, searching for more as he caresses the inside of you.

“You are so tight. I can’t wait to get my dick inside of you and stretch you around me. Will you like that?”

You clench around his finger and say, “yes, I want your perfect dick inside of me. I want to clench around you and make you cum.”

He moans along with you, pressing his dick against your side to find some kind of friction. The pretty words coming from your mouth make him want you even more. He inserts another finger into you and you moan from the fullness. His thumb rubs against your clit and you can feel the tension in your belly growing.

“If you don’t stop I am going to cum.” you say breathlessly as he swirls your clit in just the right way to make you buck off the bed.

“I want you to cum. I want to see your face as you burst with the pleasure my hand is giving you. Then I am going to fuck you and make you cum again. How does that sound?”

“So good, ohhh” you moan out as he curls his fingers inside of you. You are right there, so close, just one or two more swipes of his thumb and you are going to break. He kisses you softly, swiping his tongue over your lips and whispers, “cum for me, Kitten.” and you do. Back arching, mouth falling open, you cry out as your walls spasm around his fingers. He continues to work you through the aftershocks, staring directly into your eyes the entire time. Once you have come down from the high, he removes his fingers from inside of you and lifts them to his mouth. He sucks your juices off of them with a satisfied look on his face. You are panting, feeling incredibly siated, while watching him devour his own fingers, and it couldn’t be hotter.

“Any other time I would want to taste you, have you cum on my tongue, but right now all I want is my dick inside you. I hope that is okay with you?” He says as he raises one brow with the smirk to match.

“Please put your dick inside of me, I need it. I need you.” You say to him. He bites his lip as his hand goes down to grab his hard dick. He slowly pumps it a few times and you watch, the head glistening, his eyes on you with a parted mouth as he feels the pleasure he gives himself. It is incredibly hot to see him touching himself while looking at and thinking of you.

He stops his movements and gets off the bed to walk to his suitcase. You hear the crinkle of a wrapper before you see the condom in his hand. He rips open the package and slides the condom onto himself. The anticipation has you breathing heavily while you throb for him, clenching around nothing. He climbs back onto the bed and you lay back, opening your legs wide, making room for him. Slowly, he makes his way between your legs until he is hovering over you, arms bracing his weight on either side of your head. He is staring into your eyes, drinking in the look of you laying there, lips parted, body ready for him.

He leans forward and kisses you sweetly. As he kisses you his hips move forward and his erection rubs against your folds. A high pitched gasp comes from your mouth as he repeats the movement, rubbing his length against your core, making sure the head hits your clit. He continues to kiss you and move against you, causing you to lose track of time. He is panting as he says, “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, I am so ready. Please.” You whine as he grinds against you a little harder and you feel your walls clench making you drip. All you want at this moment is him.

He kisses you again as you feel his head at your entrance. Then he is pushing forward, sliding into you slowly. Your head falls back, mouth falling open, a breath leaving you. He takes his time, sliding in one inch at a time, making sure you adjust to his size. He moans as he pushes the last few inches and bottoms out, eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. After a moment he opens his eyes and stares into yours before saying, “are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” The duality of this guy who was punishing you one moment and checking on your wellbeing the next.

“Yes. I am okay.”

That is all he needs before he starts to pull out of you and you both groan from the friction. He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you before he pushes in again. The pace is still slow but you can feel all of him. His hips are working now, creating a slow rhythm that has you losing your mind. Small moans are falling from both your mouths as he moves inside you. He gets down on his elbows, slotting his body in between yours as he grinds himself into you. You grab his face and kiss him, tongue exploring his mouth as your hands slide over his body. He hits a good spot and you moan, hips jutting forward grinding into him as you clench around him. This draws a deep groan from him as he stops kissing you and lowers his mouth to your ear.

“You feel amazing. I love the way you clench around my dick.” He takes that moment to bite into the sensitive flesh of your neck and you cry out.

“These sounds you are making are so hot. When you cum, I want to hear you cry out my name.”

“Yes.” You breathe out as you run your hands down his back and grab his ass. Raising your hips you use your new found leverage to work against him. He moans into your neck. “These sounds you are making are incredibly hot as well” you say as you lick the column of his throat up to his ear while grinding harder against him.

He suddenly sits up on his knees, eyes filled with desire. He is done with the slow love making as he grabs your thighs and begins to move faster, slamming into you a bit harder. At this angle he hits you in a different spot that sends tingles through your body every time. He is biting his lip and staring at his dick as it enters you, watching himself fuck you. Your head falls back, eyes closing, as you moan loudly from all the sensations. You feel his hand on your breast and your hips buck up against him again, allowing him to get deeper. Your fingers curl into the sheets and you cry out as he tweaks your nipple. His other hand finds your clit and begins to rub a steady circle around the small nub, pushing you toward another release.

“God yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop”

“You are so tight and wet. I am so close but I want you to cum. Do you think you can cum for me, Kitten?” He emphasizes this with a sweeping rub of his thumb.

“Yes. Yes I want to cum. I am so close. That feels so good.” Your words trail off as the tension in your body builds and is about to break.

“Cum for me, again. That's it. I want to see the look in your eyes. Look at me, Kitten.”

You open your eyes and you look at him as your body goes taught like a bow string. Jungkook is pumping into you steadily, one hand working your clit as the other works your nipple. He is beautiful and sexy, sweat beading his brow, mouth parted, muscles flexing from his movements. “Oh, Jungkook, yes!” you exclaim as the tension in you finally snaps. His eyes are locked onto yours as you spasm around his cock. A moan falls from his mouth as he feels your orgasm washing through you and around him. He continues rubbing you through your waves of pleasure until you tell him to stop and he falls back to hover over you.

“That was so fucking hot” he says as he kisses you hard, running his tongue over yours. He begins to move inside you again, causing you to moan into his mouth. It is his turn and he seems eager to use you for his pleasure. You want to be used. You want to make him cum.

“Yes, Jungkook. Just like that. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. Will you cum for me now?” You say as you grind against him. He moans into your neck, whining as he says, “Yes, you make me feel so good. Can I cum inside of you or do you want me to pull out?”

“You are wearing a condom. You can cum inside of me. I want you to fill me up.”

His only response is another moan as he grabs onto your hip and pumps into your furiously.

“Look at me, baby. I want to see your pleasure. I can’t wait to feel you pulsing inside of me.”

He pulls back from your neck and looks in your eyes as his mouth falls open and he starts to moan louder.

“Yes, baby. That’s it. Cum for me.” is all it takes for him to pump into you one last time before he stills, a loud groan falling from his mouth, as you feel his dick expand and pulse as he cums inside of you. He is looking at you, directly into your eyes though he seems lost in his pleasure. His hips gently rut against you as he rides out his high, pants coming from his mouth, and beads of sweat dripping down his dark locks. He leans down and kisses you. Soft, sweet kisses. After a handful of them he pulls away and smiles at you. It’s a beautiful smile, showing his teeth and dimples. You smile back and lift a hand to caress his face. He kisses your hand as he begins to pull out of you, causing you both to groan from over stimulation.

“I will be right back, don’t move.” He says as he walks over to the bathroom and removes the spent condom. When he comes back he gets on the bed, laying down to cuddle you but tells you to go pee first, knowing that it is the best thing to prevent issues post-sex. Your heart swells from the thoughtfulness as you do your business and come back, jumping on the bed. He laughs at you as he wraps you in his long arms. He snuggles you into his chest, leaving tiny kisses in your hair.

“That was seriously incredible” he finally says to break the comfortable silence. “I mean it. I don’t remember the last time I came that hard. I wanted to cum from the moment I was inside of you. You were doing that thing with your hips then the way you were talking to me. Gosh, I could barely contain myself” he kisses your head again, then looks in your eyes before kissing your mouth. “You are incredible.”

A blush rises to your cheeks as you respond, “You are not half bad yourself. That dick of yours is magic.” He laughs loudly and kisses you again before pulling you against him.

“Stay with me tonight.” He states with no warning. You raise your chin to look him in the eyes. He has a pleading look in them that you were not expecting. Hopefully maybe but this looks more like need than want. “Stay with me, please.”

How can you say no to him? You nod your head and he envelopes you both in the blankets as he cradles you against him, slowly falling asleep.

[edwardelricsrightarm]

Riza Hawkeye as a child/young teen but she's just this Annie Oakley ass prodigal sharp shooter little shit who cuts her hair off with kitchen scissors and runs absolutely buckwild in the woods on her father's estate terrorizing small animals (humanely hunting I'm just being dramatic)

Roy boy is just this awkward nerdy little cornball who wants to get along, but they also kinda have that dynamic from the Swan Princess when Derek and Odette were kids ya feel me? Just watch the childhood montage from that movie you'll understand- ☠️

They have like nothing in common at the time (so they assume) and yet they end up thick as thieves cause Riza hasn't had many friends that she can see outside of her education and had an extremely isolated upbringing, so this goofy sweet baby faced dork just got her like that, even if he sometimes drives her nuts a little bit.

Riza would get upset fairly often bc her neglected social and emotional upbringing would get to her (bc realistically,,,,we know that was the case), and Roy got extremely good at knowing when she's upset and would often be the one to listen to her air her thoughts out (callback to the phone call scene after her encounter with pride, this lends background to how he knows her so well and reads her stress levels like a book even over the phone)

Mundane headcanons:

Roy would transmute little clay/dirt doves and targets for Riza bc he was worried about her shooting glass bottles and other assorted not necessarily safe objects.

Roy is trans, I can't untrans him that's just who he is to me. Riza is a self declared tomboy who I hc as nonbinary/demigirl. They're also bi4bi it's canon Arakawa told me.

Riza didn't really know good birthdays, and when Roy realized this it broke his heart bc Chris always tried to remember stuff like that for him and she's not even his own biological mother. So, he made an annual routine of gifting her something (often transmuted and unique).

Riza loved being out in nature back then and knew the wooded areas around the estate like the back of her own hand, when she and Roy had warmed up more to one another she made a routine of showing him all the neat little spots she'd found in the area for one reason or another, just for the sake of sharing that with someone. These remain some of their fondest memories.

Riza would be more likely to go out to shoot targets when she was angry or upset, if she was having a good day and had the time she would be more likely to go hunting because she enjoyed the hiking and tracking but couldn't focus on it when internally upset. Roy eventually figured this out as well.

Riza climbed so many trees, rocks, outcroppings, etc- and was always scraped up from something she probably shouldn't have climbed getting the better of her.

Riza used to have a nanny birddog named Otto, but he passed away before Roy came around, so making a new friend in him after that loss was a big comfort to her. She was hesitant to have other dogs until Hayate.

They're both autistic.

Relatedly, Riza would go nonverbal and lock herself in her room sometimes. Roy, concerned, would approach this by slipping little notes under the door offering company if needed, while not pushing her to talk.

Riza would sing/hum while doing chores or out and about exploring and on every occasion Roy overheard this he'd turn red from ear to ear- if she caught it and realized he'd heard she'd be twice as embarrassed.

Riza would take Roy foraging and showed him some useful/edible plants, and safe berries and mushrooms that she knew in the region. He was honestly always pretty impressed, especially considering some mushrooms that are safe have toxic siblings that look identical.

Both of them are varying levels of nerd. Riza is the type who's full of trivia, especially weird facts about her special interests (animal behavior, guns, bushcraft, navigation and tracking stuff, etc), Roy started out neutral to this but over time infosharing kinda became their love language, and he'd start to infodump right back. They'd spend hours like that some days.

Riza knows constellations really well for navigational reasons, and there were times that she showed Roy a way to get onto the roof from the attic and they'd stargaze. She would teach folk names of constellations, regional lore behind them, navigational uses for them etc; Roy would tell her basic facts about space and astronomy that come with understanding of alchemy.

Riza typically stuck to small prey (rabbits, fowl, easy to retrieve misc.), but Roy had an awakening when Riza first killed a whole ass deer (albeit a young one) and came back with it thrown over both shoulders with the determined energy of a small lionness.

Riza is REALLY good at cooking and baking because she had a bit too much free time to fuck around in the kitchen. She also learned how to cure and smoke meats bc of her hunting. It certainly helped them stay well fed.

Roy developed a habit of cooking for the household pretty regularly in a swapped routine with Riza after only a while of being around because he saw how much she had to be self sufficient in almost every way and honestly just wanted to relieve her of the constant responsibility and self parentification. He'd also help with chores constantly.

Roy had major internal conflict even early on because he respected his teacher greatly for his intelligence and brilliance, but also kned that Riza wasn't being raised well, and that no matter what he does, Berthold can only decline mentally. This is the root of his protective and caretaking behavior with her, ultimately.

Roy doodled and sketched a lot back in the day and had a little booklet that he guarded with his life bc it started out random assorted things, but eventually devolved into a book full of cute little doodles of mostly Riza jammed into the last half of the book (She can never know-). He still has it stored away.

Riza could easily pick him up even then, this never changed. She got to show this once when he sprained his ankle on a hike with her and she held half his weight as a crutch with no strain to herself. He never quite recovered from that (but boy did it make his crush worse).

Roy would notice rarely he'd have a shirt go missing and never could figure out why til he'd find Riza wearing an identical shirt. (She told herself it's just cause they're cozy of course- she just likes boys clothes too! They look nice under overalls and are comfortable to sleep in! nothing more /s) They never said a word about it even though it was right in front of them, they couldn't dare.

Roy had a bike, and she'd ride behind him down some of the rural roads and paths that could support it for fun sometimes.

During winter the home would get pretty chilly because of its size and not enough stoves/fireplaces to fully warm the declining estate, so when snowed in on miserably cold winter days they'd usually end up reclined in the study by the space heater or in the loungeroom by the fireplace reading separately, but still occasionally talking back and forth.

Riza stopped hunting post-Ishval. She couldn't bring herself to derive that same innocent pride and appreciation for the circle of life she once had, and felt she no longer deserved to have that respectful exchange with the cycle of life and death after what her skills had been used for. She never stops going to shooting ranges, but it's either for standard upkeep of practice or to vent.

[solliewriter]

Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is  less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through. 

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY 

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age. 

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

 2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking 

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics 

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

[writing-by-gayrainbowbridge]

Adopted By Frostiron

Inspiration From This Gorgeous Fanart:

Since so many people asked me to write this, here it is, the very first part! A Frostiron Story of Loki and Tony adopting little Sylvie ❤

⚠️Warnings: Light Angst⚠️

Enjoy 💚❤

(Please Check The Pinned Post On My Tumblr Page To See If There Are More Parts To This Story)

Loki was going to stab someone any minute now.

He had no clue how long he had been stuck at this 'TVA' for but it had seemed like far too long for his liking. He wanted to go back to Midgard, back to Tony who would surely be worrying by now, back to their son who would be missing him even though he had been adopted only three days before Loki had been taken away by the TVA.

Loki was so close to getting out of here. If he wasn't being watched every minute then he would have left a long time ago with the Tempad Mobius thought he had 'lost'.

The only real problem was, well, he wasn't entirely sure how to use the Tempad. Just trying to navigate it was so frustrating that Loki was tempted to throw the Tempad against the wall but he always calmed himself at the last moment, telling himself the Tempad was the only way to get out of here and back to Anthony and their son.

So he took his time working it out, not wanting to get it wrong and end up in Muspelheim or something equally horrible. It would be worth the wait to see his family again.

In the end, it turned out that it was a good thing he had waited and taken the time to figure the Tempad out.

That good thing came in the form of a little girl Loki would come to care for and love.

...

It was another drag of a day, Loki clicking furiously at the Tempad. He was surprised the battery hadn't yet died on it.

He sighed, pressing in a destination and blinked when his timeline came up. He knew it was his as he had checked the files in the library when the annoying librarian hadn't been looking.

He stared at the little screen, hope blooming in his chest. This was it. This was his ticket out of here!

Loki grinned to himself but it faded quickly when he heard yelling coming from outside the room he was hiding in, away from Mobius and all the other pestering TVA Agent's.

Fear gripped him, wondering if the TVA Agent's had found out he had stolen the Tempad and was trying to make a getaway.

Loki stepped back when the door opened and a little girl raced in, quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. Long black hair slipped past her shoulders as she pressed an ear to the door and even Loki heard the hurried footsteps pass by, a voice speaking. "Find her. We can't let this Variant get away."

Loki rolled his eyes at Ravonna's voice as it faded away, the little girl taking a relieved breath as turned. She froze when she spotted Loki looking at her, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hello," Loki said, voice soft as he was afraid he might frighten her.

She definitely looked frightened, a slight tremor going through her body as she pressed her back to the door, slowly slipping down it until she was sat on the floor, legs drawn up to her chest.

Tears welled up in her green eyes, much like Loki's own and his heart clenched at the sight. "Please, I d-don't know where I a-am. I don't k-know why I-I'm here—"

"Sh, sh," Loki hushed her gently, shaking his head as he stepped towards her but stopped when he saw her tense. "It's alright, Sweetheart. No need to be afraid of me."

She didn't look convinced, shaking her head furiously as tears fell. "I d-don't trust you. I don't know who you a-are."

She made a good point. She had no real reason to trust Loki at all. For all she knew, he could be another TVA Agent. Likely, that is what she thought.

"I'm not one of them," Loki assured her though that still gave her no reason to believe him. "I am much like you. A Variant. Do you know what that is?"

She slowly shook her head.

"It means that I am the same as someone else, though slightly different. There are many different types of me. Like you, Sweetheart. You're like me," Loki said softly. "I'm even willing to bet your name is Loki too, isn't it?"

Her eyes widened slightly though she nodded. "I-I am. Y-you're me?"

"I'm a Variant of you," Loki agreed. "The TVA took me from my timeline too. I'm trying to get back home to my family."

He held up the Tempad to her to prove his point, unsure if she even knew what it was though by the way she stared at it, he assumed she did.

"I could take you back to your timeline, if you wish me to," Loki assured her. "I need to get back to my own timeline first however. My husband is much better at this sort of technology than I am. He will be able to find your timeline without those dusty, old files the TVA keeps."

She nodded again, even more slowly though she looked rather hopeful at the statement.

Loki slowly drew closer, confidence growing when she didn't flinch away. He crouched down, holding out a hand to her. "I'll take you somewhere safe, away from here. Would you like that?"

He smiled softly, reassuringly and after a long moment of hesitation, and she gave a small teary smile back as she reached out to take it.

They both jumped when voices shouted outside the door, footsteps drawing nearer before the door handle jiggled.

The little girl gasped in fear but Loki was already scooping her up in his arms, holding her close as he backed away from the door that was suddenly pounded on as if someone was trying to kick it in.

Loki held her in one arm against his hip while trying to activate the Tempad one handed. He dearly hoped this would work otherwise chaos would erupt.

He clicked one last button on the screen and instantly the square portal appeared just as the door burst open, TVA Agent's flooding in, including Mobius who stared wide eyed at the two Loki Variants. "Loki, wait—!"

Loki didn't give him the chance to finish, turning and racing through the portal which closed behind them the moment he stepped through.

...

@murdermuffinloki I enjoyed writing this more than I thought I would XD There is going to be more to this. Think of this as the first chapter ❤❤❤

Tagging @mashumaru @kymera219 @just-inside-her because ya'll convinced me to write this fic. I'll tag you in the next one's as well unless you tell me otherwise ❤

[itsallyscorner]

so, I was watching the video that came out today and I was thinking about a age gap seb x reader around his friends like Jessica or maybe chace? And they're just hanging out and they both have this lovesick look on their faces and when she leaves the room for some reason they don't waste any time addressing how in love she is with him, and sebs glad bc they were kinda wary of her at first?

Hiyaaa babes! This is my first request so woohoo🥳 Since you mentioned the video, I literally thought of the pictures that were released while they were filming 355, and now I can’t get the image of Seb in Paris because holy shit he looked good. So I’m gonna be using Jessica❤️

- This came out so long, I’m a sucker for background info and can’t get past writing a story without one💀 Enjoy!💜

💌.

Lovesick

You and Sebastian were unexpected. Literally the chances of you guys getting together were so off and you guys were at different times of your lives. He was in his late 30s, already living most of his life as a successful actor. While you were in your early 20s still in college working on your doctoral degree to become a Pharmacist (It was the only major I could think of atm because it’s the one I’m planing on lol.) You guys met at the cafe near your campus. You always went there every morning and would spot him drinking his morning coffee with his nose stuck in a new script he was reading. You two would sneak glances at each other, admiring each other from afar. Until one day when the cafe was fairly packed and you needed a place to sit. You spotted his familiar face and asked him if you could sit in the seat across from him. Obviously he agreed and you guys talked, getting to know each other the whole time. When it was time for you to leave for classes, you guys exchanged numbers and kept in touch.

Which brings us to today. You and Sebastian have been going strong for about a year now and were approaching your second year together. Though you two are as happy as can be and are still in the honeymoon phase (even after a year), the first few months of the relationship were quite rough. There was an obvious age gap between you two, it didn’t bother you two as much, but the public didn’t react too nicely about it. Your parents weren’t too fond of the idea of you dating an older man, but after getting to know him they knew his intentions with you were well. Same goes for your friends and family. When it came to his fans and the media finding about your relationship, that’s when it went to shit.

The media made Sebastian look like some creep who was going through a midlife crisis for dating someone much younger than him. A few “fans” even claimed that he were a “groomer” after pictures of you and him heavily making out on the street were released. These issues caused some bumps in the road for your relationship, though after many arguments, you two realized that the only opinions that mattered were each other’s.

Now you two were staying at a hotel in Paris. Sebastian was currently working on a big project, “The 355”, something he was very excited about. This was one of the first projects that he was really involved in, from script to screen, he played a pretty big role in this project.

You were typing up a report for your class when Sebastian entered the hotel room. He was still in his set clothes, a light blue shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of Chelsea boots. He approached the bed where you were typing and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Hey sweetheart, how’s school going?” He greeted you as he settled himself on the bed, laying on his side.

“Meh, it’s going...but I finished my report on time. Now I just need to proofread it.” You smiled as you finished typing the last sentence of your report. When Sebastian discovered he was going to film in Paris, he immediately told you, knowing you’ve been dreaming of visiting Paris. Luckily for the both of you, your school allowed you to do online learning (it probably doesn’t work like that but just go with it) and you were able to tag along with him.

“I’m sure it’s prefect, you’re a great writer.” He complimented, you hummed in response. Turning to him you run your hand through his short hair making him lean into your touch. You loved his fluffy hair but the short hair was starting to grow on you.

Sebastian turned his head and pressed a kiss into your palm, stormy eyes gazing up at you.

“How has your day been?” You asked.

“It was good. We got through a good amount of scenes without messing up, so I’d say it was a successful day.” He answered. You smiled at his enthusiasm. Sebastian’s face always lit up when he was talking about a project and it was one of the things you admired most about him, his passion for his work.

“So, you’ve been cooped up in this damn hotel all day. Why don’t you come to dinner with me and the cast tonight? You’ve been waiting to visit Paris all your life and you haven’t even been outside this hotel for days.” He suggested. It was true, you haven’t done much but do school work, order room service, and binge watch shows on Netflix.

“Are you sure they’d want me to come? I might be intruding.” Honestly you were nervous to meet the rest of the cast. You’ve met Jessica a few times but they were brief and she seemed like she didn’t like you. Though that could just be your thoughts making you paranoid, you were still nervous to meet the people Seb worked with. You didn’t want them to think you were using him for money or to travel around the world because you weren’t. You loved Sebastian for himself, not the money and the fame, you could care less about all that.

But they were still Sebastian’s friends and you wanted to have a good first impression on them. You didn’t want them to think you were just some immature college girl who needed money to pay off her college funds.

Noticing you were drifting off, Sebastian pressed another kiss into your palm and grasps it. “You wouldn’t be intruding, Jessica actually suggested you come along.” He mentioned.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, baby. Come on, let’s put this stuff away and get ready. We’re having dinner at the Eiffel Tower.”

“I— the Eiffel Tower?”

•

To say you were intimidated and scared shitless was an understatement. Here you were in the Eiffel Tower having dinner with some of the most talented women in Hollywood. Like seriously Jessica Chastain, Lupita Nyong’o, Penélope Cruz, and Diane Kruger. Of course Seb and Édgar Ramírez where there as well. Then there was you, NYC local college student. You didn’t wanna say you felt out of place, but you did. These were successful people who probably starred in some of the movies you watched growing up. Now you’re literally in the Eiffel fucking Tower having dinner with them.

Dinner was going smoothly, everyone was talking about the set, shared some funny stories, and you were keeping to yourself simply eating your steak. That was until the attention was brought to you.

“So (y/n), Sebastian mentioned you were in college, what are you studying?” Jessica asked. Everyone turned to you and you swear you felt like a deer in headlights. Seb nudged your thigh with his, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Yes I am! I’m actually taking a PharmD program at St. John Fisher to become a Pharmacist.” you answered.

“For your masters?” She followed up curiously, slightly leaning forward to you.

“No, for my doctoral degree.” You corrected her proudly. You didn’t want to come off as an ass, but you were proud of your work and you worked your ass off for it.

Everyone at the table was taken back by your response. Except Sebastian, who had a just as proud smile on his face. They knew you were in college but not studying something as serious as Pharmacy.

“St.John Fisher College? I had a cousin that went there, it’s a great college.” Lupita was the first to break the silence.

“So are you working in the field yet? For some experience?” Penélope chimed in. Sebastian snorted, “Oh she has experience, trust me.”

You chuckled as you softly smacked Seb’s bicep, “Well currently, I’m interning as a Pharmacy Tech at a hospital pharmacy. They’re thinking about making me a permanent one until I graduate so fingers crossed!”

As you answered all their questions about your personal life and your major, Sebastian couldn’t help but just admire you. Just like how you admired the way he talked about his projects, he admired the way you got lost in rambling about your soon career. The way your eyes lit up, how your hands moved while you talked, and that hint of a smile on your face. He absolutely adored every single thing about you.

Dinner continued, the last question for you about why you chose to do college in New York, which segwayed into a conversation about— well New York. As the others talked about their love for the city, Sebastian wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Your back was now pressed to his chest, both of you not listening to the conversation. You pressed a kiss to his arm and looked back at him.

“Hey you.” You hummed at him rubbing your thumb along his arm.

“Hi.” He gazed down at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle. The moment was interrupted by your phone ringing. Quickly glancing at the contact ID, it was the hospital pharmacy you interned for.

“You should take that.” Seb whispered into your ear.

“No, Seb that’s rude. We’re at dinner, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I have a good feeling about this call, draga mea.” He coaxed you. Having a feeling that he might be right you excuse yourself from the table. When you’re gone the table goes quiet.

“Sebastian, you’ve got one hell of a girlfriend.” Penélope stated as the rest of the table agreed.

“She’s so smart! What the hell, a doctoral degree? Kudos to her because the amount of motivation I would need to even try!” Jessica followed up with an amazed look on her face.

“I think you guys are forgetting to mention how whipped they both are for each other! Those two were in their own world over there!” Lupita pointed out. The whole table laughed as Sebastian was turning red. Of course he was whipped, he knew he was.

“I love her guys, she’s, she’s something else. The spunk she has, her intelligence, she’s-,” Sebastian began to list but was cut off by Édgar, “Out of your league?”

The whole table burst into laughter as they agreed with Édgar. You were also coming back to the table after your call. Sebastian spotted you, eyes connecting to yours immediately.

“Everything alright?”

“They gave me the permanent job!”

draga mea - my darling 

[going-dead]

Phic Phight:Ghostly Inconvenience

Words:1672

@currentlylurking Team Human My First 2021 phic phight phic 

Prompt from @Slyph-feather :Would love to see Danny dealing with some of the minor inconveniences/differences in being a ghost; slower heartbeat, sickly pallor, maybe not showing up correctly in photographs, etc... bonus points if this is like in the school setting (because I think that would be funny)

Danny thought he had all his ghost problems figured out, or at least was aware of all of them, at this point. Afterall he’s had his powers for almost a year now. He was wrong, oh was he wrong. 

It was the first day of his sophomore year, no longer at the bottom of the high school food chain. He stood in line to get his picture taken for his school ID. Sam and Tucker had different classes for first period so they were off getting their pictures somewhere else. After a few minutes of board waiting it was his turn. Paulina skipped past him to get her ID and look at the picture she just took. 

Danny told the photographer his name and she entered a few things into her computer before gesturing for him to stand in front of the camera. Danny tried to make a few last second adjustments to his hair. “Okay smile!” The camera woman called out as he was blinded by a flash of light.

Danny started walking over to the ID station but was stopped. “Oh hold on dear the photo came out pretty blurry I’ll have to retake it. It’s no big deal don’t worry you probably just moved too quickly after the flash went off, stay still after the picture is taken okay?” 

Danny sighed but did what he was told. After another blinding flash and staying as still as possible Danny looked towards the woman. The camera woman bit her thumb staring at the computer in front of her. “Okay it still was blurry stay there I’m going to take a few at once one of them will turn out good.”

Danny was pretty sure at this point he was going to go blind as he blunk the spots out of his vision from the repeated flashes. Honestly this was getting pretty tiresome already. He walked up to the woman silently praying at least one picture turned out fine. She clicked through the photos face growing more and more confused with each one. “Uh is something wrong?” He asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Almost all of the photos turned out blurry and the ones that didn’t are weird.” She saw his questioning face. “You’ve heard of red eye right? What happens when you take a picture and sometimes the eyes of the people in the picture show up red? Well I can’t say I’ve seen this version of it in all my years of photography.” She turned the computer to face him more. On the screen it was a photo of him. The area around him was blurred, the only thing in focus was him, almost too in focus, and what really shocked him was his eyes in the photo. His eyes were glowing green in the picture, almost like when you took a picture of a cat in the dark. 

Danny felt like a deer in headlights, what were the chances that she would make the connection of him not being human? The woman just shrugged. “Well it looks like we won’t be able to get a proper photo today. You can use your school photo from last year for your ID for now until retakes in a week.” He let out a sigh, it wasn’t too bad though he didn’t really look much different from the year before. At most he grew two inches. Though it was weird that it happened. He wondered  if it was because of his ghostly half. He didn’t exactly take many or really any photos of himself. Danny walked over to the ID station to explain his situation and hoped that this wasn’t how the rest of the day would go.

During second period it was time for the sophomores to get their health checks done. Though most students were pretty sure it was mostly just an excuse for the local college’s medical students to get some more patient contact hours and hands on practice. This time he did share a class with his friends which was nice. Though it wasn't like they could go into an exam booth together. Calling them booths was a bit of a stretch though really they were just four curtains with equipment to take vitals and a chair inside. There were about a dozen or so lined up in the gym. 

“Daniel Fenton come to booth five please.” A man called stepping out of one of the booths as he pulled a pair of gloves on. 

Danny walked over to said booth and pulled the curtain shut behind him. The man motioned for him to sit down in the chair. Danny obliged and sat down he bounced his leg as he watched the man prepare the equipment. “Alright good morning Danny. I’m Josh, I'll be doing your check up today. It’s just a simple overview of your health no need to be nervous. All I’ll be doing is taking your vitals and checking your reflexes and the sort. Any questions?” 

Danny shook his head. He was nervous though, he couldn’t help it. He had tried his best to avoid any type of medical setting ever since the accident. It would be the first time since then that someone actually took a close look at him. But it would probably be fine right? Not like he would be giving a blood sample here or anything. 

It went fine at first as the man -Josh- checked his reflexes, checked his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. He then affixed a blood pressure cuff to Danny’s arm and stuck a temperature probe in his mouth. Once the results appeared on the machines screen his head tilted a bit. “You usually run a bit cold? Hm your pulse is a bit slower than average than normal too.”

Danny silently cursed. “Uh yeah that's normal for me.”

“Well as long as it’s within your baseline there’s nothing really to worry about. I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs now okay? The stethoscope is a bit cold so be prepared.” Josh warned. When he started to listen to Danny’s heart he seemed at a loss again. “Give me one second okay? I’ll be right back.” He stood up and walked out through the curtain. Well that probably wasn't a good sign. 

Josh returned a minute later with an older man in tow. “Danny, this is Dr. Bears he’s just going to double check something for me.” 

Danny nodded his head giving the doctor an awkward smile. The doctor pulled out a stethoscope of his own and placed it over Danny’s chest. He seemed to listen for a few seconds before moving onto a different region. He gave a small grunt before motioning Josh over. “It’s faint but he does have a heartbeat.”

“Well I know that. He’s clearly alive, he's going to have a heartbeat Doc.”

Danny laughed awkwardly as he continued to watch the two interact. “Try listening again. You’ll probably have issues with the mitral and tricuspid regions though, even I could barely hear it.” The doctor motioned towards Danny before walking out of the booth.

A few minutes later a bunch of other medical students filled into the tent to try to listen to his heart beat. Danny wasn’t sure how he felt about being a case study for a bunch of med students but as long as they didn’t figure out his secret he wouldn’t worry about it too much. 

By the time the bell rang to signal the end of the period half the college students there had listened to Danny’s chest. After emerging from the booth he was met with confused looks from his friends he waved them off promising to explain it to them later.

By the pattern that was emerging Danny was dreading third period. It was english with Mr. Lancer. After everyone took their seats Mr. Lancer stood in front of the class and clapped his hands to bring the classes attention to him. “Alright  class I hope you all enjoyed your summer break. I have exciting news for this school year. Due to the grant given to our school we now have laptops for you all to use during class.” 

The class broke out in whispers and Danny started to have a bit of hope for the rest of the day. Once the laptop cart was wheeled in and each was assigned and passed out to each student they were instructed to make accounts for them. The moment Danny turned the laptop on it gave him a shock. He let out a yelp and barely managed to restrain himself from knocking the thing off of his desk. He shook his hand trying to dispel the pain. He gave the laptop a hesitant poke, no shock. He started on his task of making an account, but was quickly interrupted by the screen glitching out. Danny groaned, occasionally electronics would bug out around him if he was in a particularly sour mood, of course it had to happen today. He waited for the screen to return to normal before trying to continue. 

He just managed to get the account created when it gave him another shock. He yelled in shock once more. Immediately after the lights flickered and all the laptops in the room shut off and the one in front of him started to smoke. The whole class was staring at him and he shrunk under their gaze. They all had bigger problems though as his laptop caught fire and set off the fire alarms. 

“Great Gatsby! Everyone out of the building now!” Mr. Lancer yelled ushering the teens out and leading them to the parking lot. 

Once Mr. Lancer made sure they were all accounted for Sam elbowed Danny in the ribs. “Nice going Danny.” Danny just put his head in his hands and groaned while Tucker pat him on the back. Why couldn’t he just have a normal life? Or just a normal day for once in his half life.

[seventeenwrites]

Catharsis - Chapter Two

-> Group: The Boyz

-> Type: Short Series

-> Member(s) of Interest: Sunwoo

-> Word Count: ~2.9k

-> Genre: angst, fluff, apocalypse au

-> Warnings: alien apocalypse, guns/weapons, blood, violence, death, cursing, female MC

-> Playlist: Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne; All Right Now by Angel Olsen; Saccharine by Atta Boy; Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka

-> a/n: Hey guys! Here's chapter two! Again, I want to emphasize that my goal with this series is to portray a kind of love which transcends any kind of labels we’ve assigned to love (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.). It may seem a bit hard-and-fast, but I think that is a reflection of the world around these characters. When you don’t know if you will live to see another day, when you are surrounded by death and tragedy, you live and you love without regrets, or at least you try your damnedest to.

Catharsis.

And then, fortunately, my eyes opened. Now, this wasn’t fortunate because I was alive, but rather because of the way I was alive. The fire that had separated Sunwoo and I the night before had died, but the coals were still glowing, so that they could easily be re-ignited. Just beyond the pit lay Sunwoo, still sleeping. One of his shoes had been thrown six feet away in the middle of the night, and his left arm was almost completely smothering his face.

Before I had time to laugh at him, a voice interrupted me.

“Oh, Ari! I’m assuming Sunny filled you in last night.” I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, to find the same man who had yelled at us the night before. Jacob, right? When not puffy-faced and half-asleep, he was much better-looking. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes popped out and his cheekbones were raised nonetheless, in a way that reminded me of my mother's face in her youth. Next to Jacob was another man, who I could immediately tell was the leader of whatever this place was. His nose high on his face and his brow heavy, he was reminiscent of a Renaissance sculpture, elegantly beautiful, yet intimidatingly powerful. He was also impressively clean; everything from his ears to his nail beds were devoid of even a single smudge of dirt.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think so,” I said, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself, suddenly self-conscious of my dirty T-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Good. Sangyeon and I are gonna go collect more firewood. There’s berries and nuts in those if you get hungry.” Jacob pointed to a collection of miscellaneous containers by the centermost tent. Wooden crates, mason jars, old metal lunch boxes decorated with superheroes and princesses, even a piggy bank. Resourceful. Smart, I thought to myself. I turned back to the two men, to find that Jacob had already started walking away. Sangyeon still stood before me and assessed me for a few seconds, slightly nodding his head and furrowing his brow.

“We’ll be back,” he said before slinging a backpack over one shoulder and following Jacob out of the camp. I didn’t blame him. If I was running a camp and one of my members suddenly showed up with a random girl, I would be suspicious, too.

As the day got brighter, more of the members woke up and came to greet me, and I got to know more about who these people were and how this place worked. There was Kevin, who came out of the same tent as Jacob, and who was a self-proclaimed genius chef, but judging by the defined musculature on his small figure, he was useful for more than his culinary skills. In the next tent there was Changmin and Chanhee, who seemed to be attached at the hip; they were both lean, perfect for long-distance running. The next tent housed Eric and Haknyeon, who were both robust and muscular, obvious fighters. The last tent was home to Juyeon, Younghoon, and Hyunjae, who entered last and were all visibly athletic, with their long and sturdy physiques. I had finally figured it out. This place was a powerhouse. No Echo would be a match for these boys.

“Always tardy, huh, sleepyheads?” Changmin jested towards the last three to join our circle around the dead fire.

“SHHH!” Eric suddenly play-whispered, “You’ll wake the baby.” He pointed towards Sunwoo’s still-sleeping figure.

“Eric, you’re literally younger than him,” Kevin laughed while trying to catch berries in his mouth, and failing. Hilariously.

“By like eight months!” Eric shouted, a slight pout donning his face.

“That’s pretty significant, if you ask me.” We all looked down at Sunwoo, whose arm was still covering his eyes, but whose mouth was visibly quivering to maintain a laugh. He peeked out beneath his arm to see what Eric’s response would be, but Haknyeon was already holding Eric back.

“Okay, babies. Let’s calm down. Jacob and Sangyeon will be back soon and I’m sure they’ll have food.” Juyeon hushed-- his voice had a way of calming the boys down that could only have been achieved through years of trust and reliability. His voice and the mention of food seemed to lull the pretend conflict, and pretty soon, side conversations enveloped the entire group. I sat and watched Sunwoo. He was chatting with Kevin who was right next to him, and he was laughing at something, his head thrown back. I found myself smiling. Two smiles in 24 hours. That’s gotta be a record.

Sunwoo’s eyes met mine and I felt my heart leap. He excused himself from his conversation and walked over to sit next to me, placing his hand on top of mine. Again, I noted just how soft his hands were. And warm too, compared to the frigid morning air. As if feeling his warmth made me colder, a shiver traveled down my spine.

“Cold?” Sunwoo asked. I nodded in reply. “Let me in there, then,” he said, pointing at my blanket. I opened it and he stuck himself into my arms, grabbing them to close on top of him. He was warm. Physically, but he also warmed me from the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after playing in the snow, or getting a hug from your mom after your first piano recital. He felt like home.

-------

When Jacob and Sangyeon came back, they were dragging a deer behind them, backpacks chock full of firewood. The boys all scrambled up excitedly; I could only make out random interjections and complaints about hunger from the younger ones.

“You’ll finally get to see me in action, Ari,” Kevin quipped, gathering random tools and ingredients to cook the deer with.

Sangyeon walked up to Sunwoo and I, placing his bag by his feet and looking me up and down, just like he had before he left. Still suspicious of me, I guess. He turned his eyes to the boy next to me, looking him up and down as well, and started, “Go get some water from the stream, will you?”

“Sangyeon, come on! It’s been three weeks already, surely I can do something else?”

“Sunny, I’m sorry, but your legs obviously just not healed yet.”

Sunwoo looked as though he was going to protest again, but Jacob cut in before he could: “Doctor’s orders, bud. I’ll take a look at it again later today.”

Shoulders slumped, Sunwoo dramatically sighed and grabbed my hand, dragging me along with him.

“I’ve been on water duty for three weeks, now. I mean, I understand. They care about me; they want me to be safe, and the path to the stream is clear and short-- almost impossible to get hurt. But like, come on. Three weeks of getting water. I’m sick of this damn path!” He joked, swatting a vine out of his way.

“What happened to your leg, anyway?” I asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” I quickly added, suddenly afraid that it was too personal.

Sunwoo stopped in his tracks, looking at the ground. I could see the wheels turning in his head, as if he was trying to figure out how much of himself to reveal to me. He sighed and let go of my hand, turning to face me. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at me, the morning sunlight shining only on the right half of his face.

“It was about two months ago. A few of us were out looking for clothes and other essentials. We figured we’d go about ten miles east and get to the city that used to be there, hit all of the convenience stores and shopping malls. But we strayed too far from camp, and we got lost on our way back. By sundown we were in the middle of the woods with no shelter, no food, nothing.

“We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Those bastards were wearing our own faces. We couldn’t tell who was real and who was an Echo. Hyunjae did this to me,” he said, referencing his injured ankle, “Pushed me into a big tree trunk. I forgive him, obviously. It was crazy, and he was trying to protect himself. That same night…” he trailed off.

I could tell that he was about to cry, since he was starting to choke on his words, “That same night, I-- I killed one of our guys. Didn’t know it was him until it was too late, until he was already bleeding red. I shot him. He was flailing around all crazy-like with his knife. I didn’t know if he was him or an Echo, so I shot him. I should've-- I should’ve shot his foot, or his hand, to see his blood. But I didn’t. I got him right underneath the heart. Missed it by a hair. So I held him as he went. For thirteen minutes, I held him. I looked him in the eyes as the life left ‘em and I held his hands as they went limp. That poor fucking bastard, I’m so sorry to him.”

Sunwoo was crying. It was a cry I had never seen or heard from a human before. It was absolutely, heart-wrenchingly tragic, and the only thing I could do for him was hold him. I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that he was still a good person, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that I loved him, because he knew that, too.

I didn’t tell him that his member was in a better place, because we both knew it wasn’t true.

-------

When we got to the stream, we were holding hands again. Sunwoo was still wiping tears off of his face with his free hand, but he was smiling again.

“Whaddya say, Ari? Care for a little dip before we head back?” Sunwoo teased, rocking his shoulders as if to say I’m joking, but if you’re down, then I’m really fucking down.

“Fine, kid,” I chortled, “but only because that water looks deliciously crisp right now.”

I turned away to place all of the water buckets on the ground, and when I turned back, Sunwoo was standing a yard or two away, facing the water. He reached down and took his shirt off in a swift and seamless motion, one which seemed to me only men were capable of performing. The sunlight kissed his skin, illuminating its smooth and tanned surface. The shadows of his shoulder blades danced across his back as he attempted to balance on a stepping stone. The gentle slope of his neck blended seamlessly into the crease of his spine which traveled all the way down his back, like a book that I never wanted to stop reading. His arms, outstretched in a balancing act, were lean, yet capable and sturdy shooting arms, slightly different in size as a reflection of his right-handedness.

He turned around to look at me, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were still bloodshot and puffy from crying, and his face still splotchy, but his smile-- his smile was brighter than the light of any sun. I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my life. I smiled back at him, and I felt my own eyes start to well up with tears.

“Come on, Ari! This stream isn’t gonna skinny-dip itself!” Forgiving his slightly awkward--yet adorable--phrasing, I accepted his challenge, jumping in with him.

As our heads both emerged, we held hands under the water, my thumb rubbing the soft skin of his. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of my ear, before settling his face into the crook of my neck. And then, again, we felt like nothing more than an extension of the earth below our feet and the sky above our heads.

Catharsis.

-------

Sunwoo and I arrived back at camp and we were met with ten horrified faces. To be fair, we looked an absolute mess. Our clothes were sopping wet, hanging off of our bodies like rags. As our feet had been too wet to put our shoes back on, we walked back barefoot, as evidenced by the dirt, mud, and scratches littering our ankles and calves. Our hair, like something out of a horror movie, dangling in front of our faces in stringy and curly sections.

“Sunny! What the heck, dude?” Jacob cried, staring in shock at Sunwoo’s now dirty and tattered bandage on his ankle. Sunwoo half-smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Cobie. You should’ve seen the stream today! It was so beautiful; we just had to swim in it!” He replied, a slight pout on his lips.

Chanhee was sitting at the fire a few feet away, a sly smile engulfing his face. “Oh sure,” he teased, “Swimming. I bet that’s all you two were doing.” He puckered his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, a type of mockery I hadn’t seen since high school. I couldn’t help but giggle at him, even if he was jumping to conclusions, and incorrect ones, at that.

Sunwoo and I hadn’t kissed. We didn’t need to, and maybe we never would. We only needed to hold each other. And frankly, that’s all I wanted to do for the rest of my days.

As Jacob unwrapped the bandage from Sunwoo’s ankle, his smile faltered for a second before he replaced it. I knew that look. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What is it?” Jacob looked at me, contemplating, then turned to Sunwoo and sighed. He resumed his faux angry persona from earlier, resembling a loving parent.

“This is why I told you to be careful, Sunny! The wound must have reopened at some point, and you got it dirty when you were out there. It should be fine if we wash it and dress it with herbs, but you’re gonna have to stay off of it for longer-- and no more playing in dirt, for Christ’s sake, Sunny.” Sunwoo looked like a child getting scolded for tracking dirt into the house, but I could see the twinkle of mischief still ever-bright in his innocent eyes.

Sangyeon walked over to us, still as reserved and stoic as ever. He looked me over as he always did, eyes filled with suspicion and piqued interest. He turned to Jacob, who I had figured out was something of a second-in-command.

“We’ve received word of a pack about a mile west. We should head out now, while it’s still bright out,” he turned to look at Sunwoo, still talking to Jacob“This is sort of an all-hands-on-deck situation. Is he okay to shoot?”

Sunwoo replied for Jacob by standing up, still young and eager to prove himself, “I’m fine, I promise! I’m not in pain, and my ankle won’t affect my shooting if I’m sniping. Sir.” Sangyeon looked Sunwoo up and down, slightly nodding his head, then reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t get hurt again, buddy. We can’t lose anyone else.” That was the first time I had seen Sangyeon let his guard down, and I even saw a tear slip out of the corner of his left eye. Sunwoo bit his lip in an attempt to suppress the tears he had already let go that morning. Sangyeon was quick to wipe it and resume his cold air, though, and he turned to look at me, unsure of what to do with me.

“What do you mean you received word? And why are you seeking out Echoes? Shouldn’t we be, like, hiding from them?” I asked.

Sangyeon stared at me again. “I hear you’re good with a knife.”

“Not good. Excellent.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving my questions unanswered, to which I looked at Sunwoo in disbelief.

A slight smile spread across Sunwoo’s face and he started walking towards one of the smaller tents, expecting me to follow him. When I walked in, I saw more radios than I had ever seen in my life. Old ones that couldn’t have been less than 60 years old, the ones that were built into flashlights, walkie talkies, even old car radios.

“Kid, what the hell is this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“This, Ari, is anything that can send or receive signals through the next hundred miles. Over the year and a half we’ve been here, we’ve found all of them.”

“B--But why?”

“So we can get them before they get us. There are lots of us out there, we send word to each other if we see or hear of Echoes that we can’t get ourselves.”

The wheels in my head were turning so quickly, and I still couldn’t understand it.

“So-- So you guys actually… hunt Echoes? You don’t just run from them?”

“That’s right. And we’re gonna keep hunting them. Until every one of those bastards is six feet under.”

It all finally made sense. How organized and resourceful they all were. How skilled they all were at fighting. The hierarchy and positions they all assumed, with Sangyeon at the top. This wasn’t a camp.

It was a machine. An Echo-hunting machine.

[parkmuse]

Not So Honest (M)

Word Count: 9322 (Reposted) (Wonhopes Masterlist)

Jungkook has got a pretty BIG problem, and he desperately asks you for your help.

cr.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Dingdongdingdongdingdon-

You let out a heavy sigh, pausing your show as you get up from the couch to answer the door. That annoying repetitive doorbell rings could only come from one person.

“YAH! Where’s your fucking keys you brat-“ You stop mid-sentence from yelling at him because your eyes catch onto the large package he’s struggling to hold along with a mountain of grocery bags in his hands.

“Yeah, I forgot them this morning and remembered once I was at the store. By the way, this was at the doorstep-“ You immediately snatch it out of his grasp, twirling around as you let go of the door and let it slam back in his face. You run to the table, squealing as you set it down to try and go look for something to open it with. “My package arrived!”

You hear the front door rattle a few times before its shoved open again, him struggling to get all the bags in as he forces the door closed with a bang. “What the fuck Y/N? And I don’t even get a thank you for picking that up for you?”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Jungkook,” You replied, waving him off before you walked back over to your package.

You’ve been waiting a whole two weeks for another one of these Amazon packages. You did a little contract with some sellers there that you would test out their products for free and give your honest review in return that you get free samples of the items. So far you’ve gotten blenders, make up, wireless head phones, even a decent cellphone all for free. And all you had to do was type up a quick, honest review with the pros and cons of the product that took less than 5 minutes, then you could enjoy all your free shit. Did I say free already?

“What’s in the package? Another crappy phone?” Jungkook yells from the kitchen, placing all the food in their designated locations. You let out another heavy sigh before responding to him. “Why do you care? Go hangout with Jimin and suck each other’s dicks or something.”

“You’re just jealous cause I could probably get more dick or actually scratch that, any dick at all compared to you if I really wanted to.” You shot him a glare and he smirks, then sticks his tongue out before placing the milk in the fridge.

God, you hated that brat. You’ve hated him for so many years, basically all of your life since you’ve known each other since elementary. Your parents were great friends so you always had to hang out with him when you would go to each other’s houses, dealing with him pulling your hair and stealing all your food and toys from you almost three times a week. Once you hit high school you were even forced to baby sit him even though you were only two years older, but his parents baby him so much and think he’s not fit to stay alone in his own damn home that they’d throw him over at yours.

Even now, as two damn grown adults you are still stuck with him, forced to share an apartment since you two go to the same college because his parents don’t trust him alone or with strangers. It was a living nightmare since you basically had no privacy with this brat, always meddling in your stuff and your life and him walking out of his room practically naked every damn day. Sure, he’s grown up really well, and he’s always been cute I guess, but holy hell he gets on your nerves so much he’s lost the on chance that you would ever find him attractive. The only upside to this is that you get help paying rent, but honestly you think you’d rather live on the streets than be with this annoying kid.

At least your annoyance will be at its minimal today, too excited to let him cloud your day when you got more cool free shit-

“What the fuck?” You spit, eyes bugged and jaw dropped once you comprehend exactly what Amazon just sent to you.

“What? Another flip phone or some shit- woah,” Jungkook’s eyes widened as well once he peeks over your shoulder to see what the big deal was.

Sex toys.

Not one, not two.

A whole box full.

There were different kinds of toys like vibrators and silicone dicks in all the colors you could possibly imagine. You didn’t even know what half the shit in that box was either; there were weird looking eggs to obscure shaped things you assumed were supposed to replicate a dick but had an extended side that you couldn’t figure out what it was actually intended to do. You pulled out a box and on the cover read Sassy Anal Beads in fancy cursive lettering, finally making you lose your patience.

“Why the fuck would they send me this shit!?” You huffed, tossing the stuff back in the box. You had no use for any of this. Sure, they could keep you company since you were single as hell but you really wished they would have sent you something way more useful.

“Maybe they knew you needed it— OW!” Jungkook yelps as you punch him in the chest. He pouts as he clutches onto his pecs but you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you deserved it.” You walk back to the couch and plop on it with a sigh, resuming your TV show.

“Aren’t you supposed to review all this shit?” He says, digging through some more of the box as he pulls an unrealistic sized purple dildo.

“I’m not going to bother. I’ll just say they were all shitty or something,” You say as you bring your feet up to the coffee table.

“Well that’s not really fair. You have to give your honest opinion. What if King Cock Deluxe deserves five stars?” He snickers, waving it over in front of your face.

You scrunch your face in disgust, “Stop being gross.”

He laughs and tosses it back in the box, then pulls out another item. “What the hell is this thing?”

You see him examining it in his hands, his face scrunching up in confusion. It was small and black, a ring attached to the end and the top having two protruding bumps.

You’ve actually heard of that one before from one of your girl friends who was gushing all about it. It was a rabbit designed cock ring, the two ends from the top was actually a vibrator so when you had sex the “rabbit ears” would stimulate your clit. Your friend said although it looked really ugly it really did the trick, but her boyfriend never liked using it because it was way too tight on him.

“It’s a cock ring,” You said unamused, standing up to walk over to the kitchen.

“Cock ring?” Jungkook responded, still sounding confused as ever.

“Did I stutter?” You said, digging through the pantry.

“Does it make you feel really good or something?”

You turn back to face him so you can yell at him for asking so many questions, but stopped once you saw his face. He was still looking at the toy, examining it in his hand intensely.

A small smile crept on your lips, and you’re glad he was still too focused on the toy in his hands to see. “Yeah Jungkook, it makes you feel real good.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, but quickly replaces his surprise with a lazy smirk. “Yeah right, this free shit would never work.” He tosses the toy back into the box.

You snicker at his response. How has he never heard of a cock ring? Was he that inexperienced? Jungkook’s a grown man, but you’ve always seen him as the little brat next door. “I mean, I heard that got a lot of positive feedback for being one of the best sex toys out there. Men go crazy about it,” You chimed in, continuing to tease him.

“That piece of rubber? Bullshit.” He walks back into the kitchen, throwing some more groceries into the fridge. After a couple of minutes of silence and fixing up the kitchen, Jungkook speaks up again.

“I mean, what does it even do? How is it that good?”

“I don’t know, but must be pretty amazing.” You were getting kind of tired of your little white lie, and his constant repetitiveness of the topic was staring to annoy you. Before he was about to speak up again you interrupted him.

“Jungkook! I told you to buy some more damn cereal!” You whack him on the back of the head and he groans.

“I got most of the stuff on the list!” He pouts.

“You had one job kid, and now we got milk and no cereal.” You huff, walking over to grab your purse. “I always have to do things on my own around here. I’ll be back in a bit.” You grab your keys and walk out the door.

-

You finally made your way back home after being stuck in traffic for a good thirty minutes just for some cereal. Damn that Jeon kid for forgetting one measly thing.

You were starving since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were too lazy to cook anything so why not just have some cereal? You walk to the kitchen to pull out a bowl, opening the box of Frosted Flakes and filling it up to the brim. You walk over to the fridge to grab the milk, opening the door. You were met with nothing but water bottles on the top shelf and some groceries at the bottom. Confused, you looked all over the sides and in the drawers. There was a whole carton before you left and now it disappeared!

Then it clicked in your head. Your eyebrows crinkled and you let out a heavy sigh, closing the fridge. “JUNGKOOK!”

That damn kid always brings the carton of milk into his room, sometimes drinking it straight out of the container. You hated sharing food with him for this very reason, and you should really get him to stop drinking that shit because he’s getting way too big for his own good.

You waited for a good minute just to give him mercy, but by now he should have answered you, walking out of his room with a yeah, yeah as he brings the carton back out.

But there was complete silence.

You groan, walking down the hall to where your bedrooms were. He better have a good ass explanation for why he hasn’t answered you by now. You twist the knob and roughly push the door open. “Where’s the fucking milk Jungkook?!”

You pause at the door, making eye contact with a seemingly alarmed Jungkook. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed faced away from you, shirtless again, head turned with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar. He looks like a deer in the headlights, his hand clutching onto the sheets crumpled beside him.

“You’re just sitting there doing nothing but didn’t bother answering me?” You thought it was a little weird, but quickly brushed it off.

“Um—well, I—“ Before he can give you an explanation, your eyes catch the item you were looking for at the night stand beside where he was sitting.

“There it is, I fucking knew it!” You strode over to the carton.

“NO! DON’T COME HERE!” He hollers, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“Whoa no need to yell, what’s on your dick?”

“N-NOTHING! Just…go to the store and get more! This is my milk!”

You could have sworn you felt a vein pop out of your temple at his remark. “I just came from the damn store! That’s a brand new carton! And my milk your ass I paid for that!”

You were seriously getting tired of him. When will you finally be able to get away from him? 5 years? 10 years? Are you really going to have to spend the rest of your life with this brat?

You don’t even know why you’re listening to him at the moment. You can do whatever you want, he can’t stop you. You continue to make a beeline to your milk, running past him to grab it and run out. Your feet catches onto his blanket, causing you to trip over and onto the floor in front of him with a loud thump.

You groan on the floor, pushing the sheet off of you and sitting up as you rub your head. You turn your head to look at a mortified Jungkook, completely colorless as he stares back at you in complete fear and embarrassment. Confused, you were about to ask what his problem was but your eyes flicked south.

A mere inches from your face was his dick in his hand, semi hard and just…all out there. What definitely made your jaw drop was that right at the base was a familiar looking object, black with bunny ears sticking out at the top.

You covered your mouth, embarrassed to have caught him in the act but also trying so hard not to laugh in front of his face because you cannot believe he’s actually doing this.

“Y/N, I-I can explain-“

You get up on your feet and grab the milk from the night stand, walking straight to the door avoiding eye contact with him. “No need to Kook, pretty self-explanatory. You have fun with that!”

You just wanted to get out of there as quick as possible before it could get even more awkward, but he calls out to you, making you stop.

“No wait! Don’t go! I-Um…”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you jack off you have another thing coming-“

“NO! It’s not that! Why the fuck would I ask you that? I’m not some sicko.”

“Says the one with a bunny cock ring on his dick-”

“OKAY! You got me there,” He sighs. “But I was just curious! What was so good about this piece of plastic? And then I put it on a-and…”

“And what?” It probably didn’t feel good as he expected it to. Hell, it’s supposed to be the complete opposite.

“Well, it’s kind of…kind of stuck.”

A few seconds of silence pass as you comprehend what he just said, then you burst out laughing. He jumped in his seat, surprised by your reaction but then gives you a glare and a pout. “Why are you laughing?!”

You grab onto your sides, tears coming out of your eyes. You just can’t control yourself. This dumb kid has a sex toy stuck on him and he can’t get it off.

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just so…so hilarious. Wow.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks as the last bits of chuckles come spewing out.

“It’s not funny! It won’t come off…a-and it really hurts.”

You can hear the pain in his voice and for a second you actually felt bad for him. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much.

But then again, he deserves it.

“Well, seems like you got a real problem on your hands. I’ll leave ya to it.” You say as you start walking out the door.

“Y/N WAIT! You have to help me!”

You turn back to face him, your brows knitting in confusion. “And why do I have to do that?”

“Please Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t mean it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in his facial features. You were a couple of feet away from him but from there you could see the tears threatening to fall from his big doe eyes. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, probably to stop it from quivering in front of you. His broad shoulders visibly shook, and you sigh. He must really be in pain.

“Please, Noona.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by his response. He hasn’t called you Noona for years. The last time he called you that was years ago, during a small phase where he was actually really sweet and nice to you. You actually loved that Jungkook back then, but then he went a full 180 on you and went back to being a brat.

You bite your lip, contemplating on what to do. He winces in pain and lets out a long drawn out whimper, which immediately shot to your core. What the fuck?

You don’t know what overcame you but you had the sudden urge to touch him.

What the hell were you thinking?

You just want to help him, that’s all.

You let out a heavy sigh, then placed the milk on the TV stand, proceeding to walk over to him. “Fine, let’s just get this over with. I don’t want your parents to blame me for not watching you and you coming home dickless.”

His eyes light up in admiration for you, excited to finally be free of this dumb torture-like pleasure free device. You stop in front of him, sitting on your knees as you push his legs apart to get a better look.

Surprisingly, Jungkook didn’t have a micro penis like you thought he had all these years. It was actually really, really generous, probably one of the biggest you’ve seen. No wonder this kid had a big ego.

“Alright, let’s see what we got.” As awkward as this was supposed to feel, it didn’t feel as weird as you thought it would. Why did it feel normal to be on your knees in front of Jungkook’s dick? You honestly didn’t want to think about why other than the fact that you’ve known him all your life and being naked in front of each other probably isn’t a big as a deal as you would imagine. You guys used to bathe naked all the time; that counts for something right?

“Wow Kook, you got it lodged pretty good. How the fuck did you get that all the way up there?” You stared at the small device, tightly clenching the base of his shaft.

“I-I thought it was supposed to hurt in the beginning, and then it would feel good later. That’s how sex is for girls, right?”

You snorted. “Does it look like you have a vagina, Jungkook? I mean maybe you will after your dick falls off-“

“Stop!” He whines, pouting at you. “Don’t say that! I would die without my dick.”

“That actually sounds like a good plan, maybe we should leave it then-“ He grabs your hands in his, squeezing them tightly as you were about to sit up again.

“Y/-Noona, please, please help me. I’ll be good to you from now on. I won’t be a brat anymore if you help me. Just…please.”

He softly caresses the back of your hand, looking at you again like a lost puppy.

Was Jungkook really being obedient right now? He seems like he would do anything for you, listened to anything you said. He seemed so…submissive.

You unintentionally licked your lips, but immediately came back to your senses. It was really getting hot in here and your hands were starting to sweat.

You ripped your hands away from him. “Okay, okay. Jeez.” You played it off like you weren’t phased by what he said and his sudden new name for you. You just needed to get this shit off of him and then you could finally eat. Starving yourself is definitely not good for your head.

You take in a deep breath, then reach for him. You didn’t want to bother addressing the elephant in the room, the surprisingly pretty big elephant in the room, because you didn’t want to make this even more awkward as it is. Asking if you could touch his dick would probably make this situation even worse, so you’re just gonna do what you need to do.

You grasp onto the base of his shaft where the toy is, tugging it forward in attempts to take it off.

“OW!” Jungkook yelps, grabbing your wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“I barely even touched you brat, suck it up.” You whip your hand away from him, bringing it back to the toy.

He really got himself into a real mess here. There’s barely any space between the toy and his dick. Did he really think this wasn’t going to happen?

You attempt to pull at it again while your hand rested on his abdomen. You didn’t expect Jungkook’s abs to be so defined and rock solid under your fingertips, but you quickly brushed the thought away while you focused on the situation at hand.

When you pulled, the toy stayed put and your hand ended up grasping through the rest of his length to the tip, leaving you empty handed. You cupped the toy again, firmly pressing against his stomach while you pulled again, only to bring your hand against him again without the toy. You hear him whimper under your touch but again you don’t let it get to you, thinking he’s just being a little wuss about the pain again. After another attempt of tugging it off and your hand unintentionally grasping his length, you accidentally squeeze the end of his tip, feeling the warmth on your fingertips.

All of a sudden Jungkook lurches forward, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing tightly. His face is a few inches away from yours, his heavy pants tickling your face.

“Noona,” He chokes out.

You look up at him to see his adam’s apple bob, licking his partly chapped lips as he lets out open mouthed pants while his other hand clutches the bed sheet. You could see him breaking a sweat down his temple, looking so fucking hot for some strange reason but then something breaks your thoughts.

You feel a pulse under your touch, and you realize you’re still grasping his tip. You look down to see his dick erect, the tip partly red as you slowly feel the palm of your hand get wet. You slowly open your hand to see pre-cum leaking from his tip, some smeared along your hand.

You instantly get red, looking back up at Jungkook with the best glare you could muster up at the moment when in reality you’re freaking out and heating up inside. “What the fuck Jungkook!?”

You were about to stand up to leave when he grabs you again. “I-I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

“You’re gross!” You try to rip your hand away, but he keeps a firm grip.

“Y/N I’m sorry! Your hand just feels really, really soft…please, just help me get it off!” He pleads. “I’ll do anything Y/N. I promise!”

You look back at your hand covered in Jungkook’s residue, groaning at the sticky substance. You hate to admit that you loved the fact he got like that because of your hands, because of you touching him. You grab the blanket off the floor and wipe your hand, not wanting to think about it. You gulp once you face him again, his cock looking bigger than before and a bit more constricted against the toy.

You press your fingertips against the toy, attempting to twist it off of him. He whimpers, eyes shut tight as you can’t help but notice his stomach clench against your touch again.

“Noona, please...” He says again in what was like a husky whisper, sounding like he’s begging for you. The high pitched whine that came after striked right at your core, causing you to bite your lip. Your stomach was doing somersaults as you tried so heavily to focus on getting this damn toy off of him, but he was making this so, so hard. No pun intended.

You tried whatever you could, pushing it upwards and to the side and downwards, but none of it seemed to be working.

“I think we need to get some oil or something and maybe it’ll slip off,” You thought. “I’ll go get some in the kitchen.”

“You won’t find any,” He said hesitantly.

“What do you mean? I thought you just bought some?”

“I…was that on the list too?” He looks at your warily, biting his bottom lips as he slowly cowers away.

Your eyes turned to slits as your brows crinkled in distress again, letting out a long, slow sigh. “Well, I can’t think of anything else.”

“Why don’t you spit on it?” Your eyes bugged out while you looked at him like crazy woman. What did he just say?

“What?” You say, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, water isn’t going to work. We don’t have anything else and that’s all I could think of.”

“Do it yourself!” You yell, red as a tomato at what he just actually asked for you to do.

“I can’t! My hands are too big! Your hands are perfect and it’s easier if someone else does it. I’ll just hurt myself. Please, just do it it’ll work!” He pouts at you again, biting his bottom lip as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “You’re so gentle Noona. Help me,” He begs.

You know his words weren’t supposed to sound dirty in any way, but god why do you keep thinking like that?

Your empty stomach was messing with your head. Not only was your head throbbing, but you can’t ignore the ache between your legs either. You thought of just telling him to fuck off and leave him there to figure it out himself, but he speaks up again.

“It really hurts…I’m begging you Y/N,” He whimpers, whispering your name with a groan at the end. You notice his uneven breaths as his stomach vibrates, his veins protruding along his arms as he still clenches the sheets, the other hand holding onto his hard cock. He grasps himself, letting out a high pitched whine as he grits his teeth, seeing his eyes water yet again from his action.

You gulp at the sight of him before you, so helpless and vulnerable that causes your core throb even more.

You press your thighs together to ease the tension. You don’t know why such a helpless Jungkook was turning you on uncontrollably, and you’d love to see how much more he could beg and sob under your touch if he’d allow you to.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of your crazy thoughts. This is getting really bad and you knew you had to get away from him quick. You needed this to be over as soon as possible.

“Fuck, okay! But we’re never fucking talking about this again. This never happened,” You say as you kneel in front of him again. You bring a hand to your face, spitting into it and smearing it along your palm. You cup the base of his shaft and glide your palm around the skin near the toy, trying to lubricate it as much as you can.

“It’s not enough Y/N, just spit directly on it,” He groans. You were going to yell at him for telling you what to do, but spared him once you saw his flushed and pained expression. You silently obeyed, sitting up so your face hovered over his dick. You collected enough saliva in your mouth and spit on the skin below the toy, letting the liquid slip down and over his cock. You bring your fingertips to massage the area, spreading your fluid as much as you can over him. Once you think it’s enough, you try pulling the toy again but it still didn’t budge.

“I-I think you still need to add more,” He pants.

“You think I got gallons worth Jungkook? That I’m a human sprinkler?” You spew.

“Well how about you just use your mouth?” He said nonchalantly.

You gaped at him, about to tell him off but then he cuts you off. “It would be easier! You wouldn’t have to keep spitting and have it dry up. You can get it all over and then it would pop right off!”

Your patience was really wearing thin with this kid. But then he grabs you by shoulders, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours.

“You’re my only hope Noona. You can only help me with this. I’ll do whatever you want after I promise.”

  “I swear I’ll be a good boy.”

  Good boy?

  Hearing that made the last strings of your sanity cut loose.

 Fuck it.

 You push him away by his chest abruptly, making him almost fall back on the bed. He caught himself before he could fall, hands flat against the bed. Before he could ask you what your problem was, you flatten your tongue along the base of his shaft.

“Y/N!” He moans aloud, bucking his hips up and into your face. You glide your tongue along his vein, swirling your tongue against his tip. You press an open mouthed kiss, then wrap the tip around the lips as you suck lightly.

“Oh fuck! Noona,” He rasps, trying so hard not to lose control and grab your hair to push you further into him. His moans egg you on and you tease his slit, earning another strangled moan of your name from him. Then you bring your mouth down onto his cock, taking him inch by inch.

You try your best to use your tongue, trying to wet every inch of his throbbing cock until you finally reach the base where the toy was. You hear him panting like he just ran a marathon above you, groaning as he watches your pretty lips around his thick member.

“Your mouth is so warm, it feels so good,” He groans, licking his lips before he gulps as he watches you intently. You stop your movements and look up to him, making direct eye contact. He looks at you in confusion, seeing the subtle glint in your eyes. Before he could say anything you swallow hard, causing him to thrash his head back and fist your hair.

“Fucking shit!” He moans, bucking his hips upward into you, causing the tip to hit the back of his throat. It hurt of course, but seeing the way he reacts to your ministrations was definitely worth it.

You pull your mouth off of him just until the tip, then bring him all into your mouth once again, sucking harshly.

“Holy fuck Y/N,” he moans, grasping the back of your head as you bob up and down his length.

“Keep fucking doing that.” You scratch his thighs, telling him that you’re the one in control instead of him before grazing your teeth slightly against his length. He whines in response, slightly nudging your hair back to stop you.

“Y-Y/N please…I’m sorry, just please keep going.” You release him with a pop, wiping the saliva from your chin as you look at him with a glare.

“Why are you telling me what to do? I thought you said you’d be a good boy?” You say as you slightly dig your nails into his massive thighs once again. “Or should I stop?”

“No! No please! Don’t stop I’ll be good I promise!” He whimpers at you, bringing his hand to your cheek to slowly caress your face.

“I’ll be good Noona.” You pretend to contemplate on your answer when you definitely weren’t going to leave him like this now, but you seem to think he’s had enough when you see his arm shake and his lips quiver.

“You better be.” You bring your mouth back to him, sinking your mouth down his hardened length as you take all of him again. You didn’t really think of Jungkook as the vocal type, but hearing him shamelessly moan and whimper your name aloud to the point the next door neighbors could hear heightened your ego tenfold.

You release him, bringing your hand up and down his shaft. You lift his dick so it’s against his stomach, about to run your tongue against him once again when you noticed something odd. A very thin line was visible on the cock ring, located on the bottom side of his dick. You bring your face closer to the line, looking at it curiously. Very small and slightly faint read the letters OPEN right above the line, in bold lettering.

Aha! You thought. Finally. Before you could bring your hand to the little slit, Jungkook calls out to you.

“Why did you stop? I’m being good Noona. Please, keep going.” He cries, and you swear it’s a tear that slips from his eyes and down his cheek than his sweat.

You lick your lips, looking back down at the toy then back at his cock.

He deserves this for being a brat all these years.

You look back up at him, giving him a sweet smile which felt seemingly odd to him. You never smiled like that at him. “Okay, since you’re being so good for me Kook,” You say sweetly.

“Why are you- fuck!” Jungkook groans when you take him all in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You slightly gag, your mouth so full from his thick length but you push through it. You wanted to see this boy suffer.

You continue to go all out, hollowing your cheeks and deep throating him in the best ways possible, drowning in all his whines and cries of your name and how you were so fucking good.

“N-Noona, fuck, I think I’m gonna-“ You smile at his words.

Any second now.

At one particularly harsh suck he grabs your head, sinking you further down his cock as your mouth hits the toy. He moans at first but quickly cries in agony, fisting your hair harshly as you try to focus relaxing your throat.

“What…What the fuck…?” He whimpers, eyes squinting closed as he groans.

You release him with a pop, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “What’s wrong Kook?”

“I-There’s something wrong,” He says, grabbing his dick and wincing.

“Does it still hurt Jungkook? You want Noona to make you feel good?” You pull his hand away from him, grasping his length once again and pumping up and down slowly. He cries again, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements. “It fucking hurts Noona. What’s happening?” He sounded so lost, so helpless.

You never thought yourself to be a sadist but fuck, you loved it.

“Shh, Kookie,” You slowly rise to your feet, standing between his legs as you grab onto his shoulder. You bring a finger to his chin, lifting his head so he can look up to you. “Let Noona help you. I’ll make you feel real good.” With that, you pushed him harshly on the chest, causing him to fall back into the sheets. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts leaving you in your black lacy underwear, then turn back to him.

You lick your lips, staring at him sprawled on his bed looking so fucked out, completely naked. You climb up over him, bringing one leg over to straddle his waist.

“Y/N, what are you-“ You muffled him with a kiss, soft and sweet at first but slowly getting rougher to the touch as seconds go by. He moans when you bite his bottom lip, allowing you to delve your tongue into his hot cavern. His hands quickly find purchase on the soft flesh of your hips, holding you tightly. You suck on the tip of his tongue, earning you a groan.

You bring your mouth to his ear, nibbling his lobe before you whisper, “Just relax, Kook. And let Noona do all the work.”

You rise above him, your hands running along his arms as you meet his hands on your hips. You bring your hands to the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting it off of you and exposing your matching black lace bra.

“God damn,” he choked, eyes as wide as saucers as his mouth gaped at your beautiful figure. You chuckle at his response, then bring your hand down to your underwear. You rubbed yourself through the fabric, lightly moaning as you feel your juices seep through. You were definitely ready for him already. You use two fingers to hook your underwear, pushing it to the side while using your other hand to grab his dick.

He groans, watching your movements as you align yourself with his dick.

“Y/N, are you sure you- ahh!” His nails dig into your hips as you slowly sink onto him, your mouth slightly ajar as he fills you up perfectly.

His length and girth is the perfect size for you, filling you up to the brim as you settle perfectly onto his cock. You moan once your ass meets his thighs, sitting still as you adjust to the new found fullness.

Then, you move. You bring yourself off of him until just the tip is left, then sit back down with a slap. You moan at the sensation, but Jungkook is crying from your action.

“Holy f-fuck! Fuckkk,” He whimpers, chest heaving as you bring yourself up only to come down with another harsh slap. You continue these movements until you set a steady pace, bouncing on his length.

“Y/N! Oh my god, fuck, fuck Noona,” He writhes below you, looking like he’s about to lose his mind as he twists his head back and forth with his eyes tightly shut.

“You feel so fucking good, god, keep going please,” He whines, continuously licking his lips as his mouth constantly lets out a string of profanities and whimpers.

“Am I making you f-feel good, Kook? Ah, fuck,” You groan, speeding up your pace as the room fills with constant slap, slap, slaps.

“Yes yes yes, fuck yes, you’re so fucking good, I’m losing my mind,” He chokes, bringing one hand to squeeze your ass while the other tightly grasps onto your upper thigh. You continue going hard against him, him hitting you so deep and in just the right spots. Every time you drop down you feel something hitting against your flesh, then you look down.

You forgot the cock ring was still stuck on him, then realize it was the bunny ears. Memories of your friend saying how good the vibrator was rushed into your head, then you bring one of your hands to the toy. You press the switch on the toy, the low buzz sounds filling the room along with Jungkook’s whines. Once you sink down onto him again the product lands right on your clit, vibrating at an inhumane speed which causes your eyes to roll back.

“Oh my fucking god!” You scream, pausing your movements as you let the vibrator run against your bundle of nerves. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, slowly rotating your hips instead as you let the vibrations of the toy work its magic against you. You moan aloud again, throwing your head back as the feeling of Jungkook’s cock so deep inside you along with the toys ministrations make your mind go hazy. All of a sudden you feel Jungkook’s hips lurch forward, pounding into you from below as he holds you by the hips to keep you still.

“Jungkook!” You scream, scratching his chest with his hands as he takes over.

“Y-You’re getting tighter on me, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” He moans, filling you to the brim each time as the toy continues to rub against your clit.

You can’t contain your voice now, moaning nonstop as Jungkook keeps ramming into you, the toy helping you reach your high quicker than you ever thought possible. After a few more strokes you come undone, moaning loudly as you tightly clench Jungkook’s dick. He lets out a deep groan, continuously thrusting into you as you ride out your high.

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jungkook grabs onto your ass tightly, letting out a strangled moan. You watch as his head falls back into the bed, his stomach clenching tightly as he releases a choked sob. You felt his cock throb from within you, but no release. The side of your mouth twitches upward, but when you see his eyes fill with tears once again, him crying aloud, you finally actually start feeling bad.

You lift your hips, letting his hard cock slip out of you as you roll over beside him. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You’re about to sit up to take the cock ring off of him but all of a sudden he rolls over to hover above you, spreading your legs open and pushing your panties to the side.

“Hey, what-“ He grabs his cock and roughly shoves himself into you again, causing you to throw your head back with a moan. He has his hands on either side of your head, then brings his mouth to your ears.

“You’re so fucking tight Noona, you feel so warm.” He grabs your hips as he starts pummeling into you, making your eyes roll back.

“You’re fucking hot as hell, you moaning my name and coming all over my cock,” He grunts, “You don’t know how many times I’ve came imagining what just happened. But why can’t I fucking come now?”

“J-Jungkook, stop,” You moan, trying to get him to stop so you can take the ring off of him. But he doesn’t let up, too focused on trying to reach his release as he fucks you harder, grunting and growling as he picks up his pace. The toy continues to buzz, occasionally rolling over your nub if Jungkook angles it the right way, causing you to yell out. He spreads your legs further, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder to reach into you deeper.

“That picture of you bouncing on my dick, fucking me, using me to make you feel good, I never imagined how fucking sexy you’d actually look. And the way you moan my name, fuck I’ll come just from thinking about that next time I touch myself,” He groans, reaching behind you to rip off your bra. His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking your breast as you grab his head to bring him closer. He laps your nub, licking up the valley of your breasts and brings his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, allowing him to ravage you some more. He brings both of your legs around his waist and you cross them, shoving himself into you faster. At this angle the toy is hitting directly on your clit each time he pounds into you, making you scream out his name as you clutch the bedsheets beside you.

“Jungkook!” You moan his name like a mantra, your release getting closer and closer. He continues kissing you, and after a few more deep strokes you come all over him again, squeezing him so hard he yells your name aloud, his cock throbbing uncontrollably as you clench tightly around him. His hands are holding your hips so tightly you know there’s going to be bruises in the morning, but you don’t care. You move your hips against him as you embrace the waves of pleasure, panting as you finally go limp. You’re about to slowly doze off from being so tired, wiping the sweat along your temple when you hear another choked sob. Jungkook pulls out of you, his dick still hard and swelled. The tip looks painfully red, the rest of his shaft looking constricted as he whimpers again.

“I-I fucking can’t,” He cries, his cheeks red and wet with tears of frustration as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Oh Kook,” You bite your lip. Maybe you really went too far.

You crawl over to him on his knees, carefully touching his length. He winces at your touch, whimpering as you lift it up. You press the button to turn off the vibrations, then use your fingernail to dig into the slit of the toy, pulling it forward as it pops open. He groans in relief as you slowly drag the toy off of him, tossing it to the side.

“And that’s what you get for being a brat all these years.” You say as you plop onto his bed, grabbing the sheets to cover yourself.

“What?” He looks at you confused, then his eyes widen.

“Wait…you fucking knew?”

You chuckle, “Of course, who doesn’t fucking know what a cock ring does? It stops you from coming, Kook.” You shuffle onto your side, getting ready to fall asleep.

“So you fucked with me this whole time?” He said in a low tone, venom laced in his voice.

“Fucked and fucked,” You said. “You’ve always fucked with me all these years. I was just making it even. Also we’re not telling anyone about this, okay?” You pointed back and forth from yourself to him, then plopped back onto the pillow.

Silence filled the room and you accepted it with open arms. You were just completely exhausted at this point, not having really expected such a good fuck from Jungkook. But hey, he made you feel good and you got your revenge, so it all works out. You were slowly slipping off into dreamland but all of a sudden the sheets are ripped off of you. Your legs were pulled downward, dragging your head off the pillow.

“What the fuck-“ Jungkook grabs your waist and flips you over onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the mattress while your ass is raised in the air. You attempt to turn around to ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but you cry as a hard slap echos in the room.

He smooths his rough palm against your right cheek where he spanked you, then brings his hand once again over the spot making you choke.

“You think this is a fucking joke? Making me lose my fucking mind, not letting me come three times?”

“Let go brat-“

Slap.

“The girl of my fucking dreams comes in here and sucks me off, fucks me twice, yet I couldn’t even fucking enjoy it cause I was in so much pain? You know how fucking horrible that is?” He grabs your underwear, tearing it in half as he lets it fall on the bedspread.

“Jungkook-ahh!” You moan once he brings his hand to your core, running his fingers along your slit.

“You call me a brat all the time, yell at me, yet I do everything for you,” He says as he lets a finger slip in, pumping into you as your wet juices fall down your thighs. “But you didn’t even let me come once.”

“Jungkook I can’t, not anymore,” You whimper, fisting the sheets as he plunges a second finger into you.

“Oh you can’t? But you came so many times Noona. Fuck, I even called you Noona cause I knew you secretly loved that,” He grunts. “I hate saying that. But I did it for you, to make you feel good Y/N.”

“Please,” You beg, trying to move away from his touch. But he doesn’t let up, continuing to touch you.

“I think you can go again. You never do anything for me, so you can do this. I haven’t even come yet,” He drags his fingers out of you, then leans forward so his dick sat against your cheeks and his chest leaned against your back. He brings his fingers to your lips, prodding them at your entrance. “Suck.”

You complied, opening your mouth as you lapped up your juices on him. You hear him groan behind you, slowly rubbing his length against your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He leans back, pumping himself a few times before he aligns his tip at your entrance. You were going to attempt to stop him again but he pounds right into you, causing your face to fall flat onto the sheets.

He immediately starts off rough and fast, holding you by the hips as he drags you to him, fucking you onto him. You mewl, so sensitive from the last two rounds that you didn’t have the strength to do anything.

“Fuck, you’re still so fucking tight,” He groans, “God, I imagined fucking you so many times before, but I never thought it’d feel this good.”

“Jungkook…” You moan, slowly feeling the coiling in your stomach return.

“All these years Y/N, having to deal with seeing you in those short shorts, those low tops, fuck, you were such a fucking tease,” His thighs slap harder against your ass.

“Did I ever tell you I walked in on you changing once? I fucking ran to my room and jacked off that entire night to that image.” You moaned in response, thinking about the thought of Jungkook touching himself, pumping his shaft hard and fast as he thought of you, moaning your name as he came. And he was only a couple of feet away from you in the other room.

“But I never did anything about it, because you always treated me as the little brat next door,” He growled, flipping you over so you were on your back, then pushing himself right back in.

“Tell me Y/N, do you still think of me as a kid?” He grabbed one of your breasts, kneading it as he sucked on the other. “Would some brat make you feel this fucking good?”

You moaned in response, grabbing his hair as you tried to pull him closer to you. He sucked harder, pinching your nub between his fingers as he continued thrusting you at a harsh pace. He let you go, rising up to adjust you again, hooking his arms around your thighs as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Fuck, Jungkook! Oh my fucking god,” You moan aloud, slightly arching your back as he drilled into you, making your body slowly inch upward and closer to the bedframe. The hinges squeaked uncontrollably, the bed frame hitting against the wall each time he thrusted into you.

The angle was causing you to see stars, his length hitting you in your deepest and most pleasurable spot.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna-“

He immediately stops his movements, causing you to groan at the loss of your blissful release.

“Why the fuck did you stop!?” You yell, tears of frustration clouding your vision.

He smirks at you in return, leaning forward until his face is a mere inches from yours.

“I don’t think you deserve it. Why should I let you come again?” You try to move in response, but he still has his arms around your legs, keeping you in place.

“Please,” You beg, wanting nothing more than to just drown in euphoric feeling of letting go against him.

“How are you gonna make me?”

“I’ll do anything! I won’t call you brat anymore! Just please, let me come,” You whimper, bringing your hands to cup his face.

“Hmm…” He contemplates for a little while, then you whine another please before he chuckles.

“You’ll do anything?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be my girlfriend after this?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops, not expecting that request at all. You thought he’d want you to suck his dick again, which you wouldn’t mind. But girlfriend?

He grabs your hand into his, then slowly caresses his face into your touch. He turns his face to kiss the inside of your palm, then each of your fingertips.

“I’ve loved you since I was 7. You’re the only girl for me, and we’re practically going to be together for the rest of our lives cause of our parents. My parents don’t want me to be with anyone else either, so we already have their blessing.” He smiles at your speechless face, then brings himself forward to give you a kiss on the nose.

Butterflies fill your stomach, and you feel like you can’t breathe for a moment. This brat has been with you for so long you never realized you actually loved him too, and you wouldn’t know what you would do without him.

“So do I take that as a yes?” He says, peppering sweet kissing along your jawline.

You bite your lips, but slowly your mouth curves into a smile. “You’re such a greaseball.”

He chuckles, bringing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, melting into his kiss.

“Okay not to ruin the moment but I’m kind of fucking dying here and I feel like my dick is going to fall off,” He groans, feeling him still hard within you.

You giggle, giving him one last kiss on the lips before moving away from him. “Where do you want to come?”

“Fuck,” He grunts, licking his lips as he contemplates.

“I want to come inside you.” You nod at his response, “That’s fine, I’m on the pill. And how do you want me?”

“On top.” You nod again, smiling at him as you lift yourself up, changing positions with him. He falls back on the sheets and groans while he watches you straddle him, lining his cock with your soaking entrance. Once again you sink onto him, allowing him to fill you up to the brim. Both of you sigh in content, him kneading your breasts and you holding onto his chest.

You quickly start bouncing on him, wanting him to have his relief as quickly as possible. He groans as your ass slaps against his thighs harshly every time you come down, eyes closed shut as his mouth hangs open. You clench against him, trying to milk him out for his release, and he moans your name louder. You feeling the throbbing occur and you know he’s close. You were so focused on trying to get him off that you didn’t realize Jungkook reached for the toy again, turning the power on as the slight buzzing filled the room. Your eyes pop open and you cry aloud once he presses the vibrator part of the cock ring against your clit, making you writhe above him.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Jungkook, fuck,” You mewl, moving faster against him as he keeps the toy against your bundle of nerves.

“Come on Y/N, come for me babe. Come all over my cock,” He grunts, and after a few more seconds of the toy against you you let go, lurching forward as you throw your head against Jungkook’s chest, crying his name aloud. He grabs onto your hips and plants his feet flat on the bed, fucking you through your high, and after another half dozen strokes he chokes your name out, coming inside of you in long, hot spurts. Jungkook’s warmth felt nice inside you, and you continued moving as best you could until he finished, groaning as he slowly went limp inside of you.

Both of you were panting and you could feel his rapid heartbeat slow against your cheek. He brings a hand to brush through your hair, bringing a blanket to cover the both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I love you Y/N,” He said, kissing your temple.

“And I love sex toys now even though it hurt like a bitch, but at least it brought us together.” You slap his chest, causing him to let out a chuckle. “We should give it a 5 star review. The toy sucked ass for me but it also brought me this beautiful ass,” He said as he squeezed one of your cheeks. “Pretty great if you ask me.”

“You’re still dumb and a brat,” You said as you rested your chin on his firm chest, staring up at him. You leaned forward to kiss his bottom lip, right where his mole was that you always secretly adored.  

“But honestly, I love you too.”

[pollenat]

TXT and 5 ways to say I love you

YEONJUN

A stray glance you catch by an accident. Smile that instantly blooms on his face, strong enough to have you turning away, because of how shameless it feels to be its subject. The instant need to look again. Struggling for just a few seconds. In the end, your eyes are returning to catch his again. The smile that has slightly fallen in the meantime returns to its full glory. Now with an undertone of humor your shyness has caused.

Watching the cloudy outdoors. People are running in different directions, eager to escape the nasty weather. As some pull coats tighter to hide from the cold, you chew on a hot noodle, secure in the warm insides of a restaurant. You’re so taken by the spectacle, you don’t notice an approaching face. Yeonjun kisses the corner of your lips. He’s all proud smirks, because he caught you off guard. Though you’re embarrassed, you don’t push him away.

The need to be closer. Breathe in his smell. Find the imperfections that perfect him. Feel the texture of his stiff eyelashes. Shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Gaze at the nail he accidentally cut too short. Skim both the softness and the roughness of his skin. Hear emotion in the tone of his voice. Look at him and feel alive. That’s why missing him when he’s gone is so difficult. You can’t keep your mind clear for long enough. All you can do is need, need and need.

Standing on your own, only to be approached before you can get lonely. A warm embrace is the first to welcome you, though you haven’t registered its bearer yet. Sure, it’s obvious - there’s no one else who’d do so other than Yeonjun, but his appearance needs to be acknowledged by your mind before you can relax in his hold. Warmth rests against the side of your head. Though your surroundings are loud, his breath breaks through. There’s something therapeutic to its presence, but you don’t voice the thought aloud. Instead, you lean towards the source of affection.

The waterfall of messages, marked by constant ringing. Your phone is turned downwards. It vibrates violently against the wooden surface of a night table. Tired, shaken and, in a way, empty inside, you finally reach for it. Your eyes do their best not to read the words. It’s the settings you’re looking for. Profile? Silent. Though the notifications don’t stop coming, you welcome the lack of irritating sound effects with relief. Just as you’re about to put the phone away, a stray word catches your attention. Please.

SOOBIN

The laughable lack of space in the photobooth. Soobin’s crescent-like eyes are watching your wide smile of embarrassment as you struggle to fit legs inside. His hand is keeping you from falling out of the booth. The two of you lean as close to one another as possible, so your faces are caught by the built-in camera. The seconds of panic in-between blinding flashes are made of ideas, but no confidence on how to pose next. What could have been is realized while waiting for the pictures to develop. When it’s done, your heads knock from laughing at the chaotic final product.

Lying on the floor during a particularly hot Summer day. The wooden panels are cold - a stark contrast to the suffocating warmth of air. You can’t move, nor do you want to. Soobin’s face is turned towards yours. He tries a smile, but you can tell he’s about to fall asleep. A bead of sweat is rolling down his forehead. You catch it, but do not take your hand away from Soobin’s skin. Like a kitten, he cuddles to the opened palm. Fingers close on your forearm to keep it in place.

The simplicity of him saying just a few words. They’re nothing big, the most used words among humans, one would think. And yet, coming from Soobin’s lips and meant for you - they gain an impossible strength. One that seems enough to lift your spirits at the end of an exhausting day. One that has you proud even of the smallest of achievements. One that makes the difference. Though Soobin doesn’t seem aware of the effect he has on your mood, he doesn’t need encouragement to continue spoiling you with simple, but magical words.

A fogged window. Though you can easily make out the familiar silhouette, you stay back, waiting for him to make the first move. Soobin’s hand raises to draw a shape in the colorless space. He’s slow and meticulous, careful as to not make any mistake in his adaptation of a heart. When the starting point meets with the ending one, he clears the space inside. A dark eye - now the only sharp shape - winks at you through, sending a wave of warm feelings along.

He should be mad. You’re mad, so why can’t he be as well? Instead of cursing, screaming, talking, he just sits with head hung. Quiet, sad rather than angry. You cannot find a voice to attack him for that. No arguments are given back. Soobin is silent. You want to leave and you announce so, but he catches your forearm to pull you back. Though you’re tense, his arms embrace you. As if a simple hug could fix everything wrong with the situation. As if you weren’t boiling inside. As if his silence wasn’t more hurtful than the possible words.

BEOMGYU

The bubbles of excitement, and how they keep you feeling light. Catching your own smile in a mirror. Lacking certainty when picking your clothes. Smelling yourself just to make sure. Looking at your phone in case he left a message. Checking your teeth before leaving. Smiling at your own need for speed, because you may see Beomgyu a little bit quicker. Looking at the passersby in hope of meeting his humored gaze. Hearing a snicker before turning to see him. Finally.

Grinning like an idiot, at least so you tell yourself. Through the timelessness of Beomgyu’s teasing, he has never once said so about your smiles. But you do feel like it’s the best way to describe it - idiotic. Because how come you’re reacting so strongly to something as natural as Beomgyu’s side profile? Just a look at him and you’re all smiles. How come just a brief meeting of your hands has your skin sweating, and you’re stuck between the embarrassment of sudden intimacy as well as the need to close the useless distance.

The darkness. You can barely make out his features, though he’s centimetres away. A ray of light places a face-long scar on his right cheek. Beomgyu pulls the zipper down to erase it. Now it’s completely black. The edges of his face are just memories your brain puts in front of you. He giggles, breath blowing at your lips. A small piece of nowhere you can forget yourself in. Beomgyu’s fingers return to your awaiting hand, though it’s happening outside the bubble of hoods zipped together. Inside, your mouth meets another in a toast to the small kingdom of obliviousness.

Pulling duvet over your head at night. Biting on your knuckles. Curling toes. You try everything to stop yourself from making noise, although the need for laughter has your throat itching. With wide eyes staring at the light screen of your phone, you type down a quick response. Thumb hesitates before pressing the send button. You reread the answer, anxious to make it as funny as possible. As soon as the cloud of text changes colors, a small icon of Beomgyu’s head appears next to it

Biting your lips to keep them from opening. You don’t want them to tremble, or release hurtful words. The stiff silence is a stark contrast to Beomgyu's loud words of pure annoyance. At that moment you feel like crawling beneath the ground to lie there for eternity. He wouldn’t notice. You’re facing his back as he continues counting down all the little sins that have brought you to the point of (what seems like) no return - the hell on Earth, where Beomgyu’s face is no longer illuminated by his branded mischevious smile.

TAEHYUN

The whoosh of wind as you swing forward. Its cold kisses being placed on the shells of your ears. Fingers sliding down the chains, the metallic smell mixing with your palms’ sweat. Another hand closing on yours to stop the swing. Cringing at the weak jerk the sudden ending causes. Taehyun’s small smile, such a natural sight for your eyes. A duet of ice cones locked in the hold of his other hand. The feeling of freezing cold on your chin when he swipes the ice against it. His laughter that follows.

The words of affection you didn’t know you needed. They’re said in the company of a sincere gaze and although it’s overpowering, you hold it. Arms circle around you, gentle and slow. It’s as if you were a young deer that could escape him any moment. But you’re not. Though tortured, with sadness hidden in the depths of your chest, you want the comfort to overtake you. You want him to be the reason everything is worth it, because what is life without reason?

Surprising him and the excitement that overtakes you, seconds before he jumps in place, then screams. Taehyun looks annoyed. No wonder, you expect as much. His cheeks are squished. Endearment you’re feeling for the boy has you drowning in warmth. Though Taehyun is gently pushing you away, both of you know he doesn’t mean it in the slightest. Childish giggling accompanies your playfight, because that’s how you feel around him - free and fresh, like a child.

Hiding behind hands when you’re laughing. Though the humor has overtaken you, the insecurity hasn’t. Fingers dig into the skin of your cheeks as the spasms of laughter raise in strength. Taehyun’s shaking in his spot as well, but he takes a moment to reach forward. The fingers are pulled away and to your sides, now interlaced with his. Even if you want to turn away, you have nowhere to escape. Not as long as he has the hold on your hands, therefore, a hold on you.

His chin held up high, eyes cold, lips twisted. Though just a second ago you missed him to pieces, now that he’s close, you wish to be as far away from him as possible. You’re not used to that cold version of Taehyun, even if you’re aware of its existence. The lack of clear answers he has to your questions is unnerving. You know he’s waiting for an apology, but you don’t want to give him one. The argument was mutual, and you’re just as hurt by its aftermath. It will take you a while to heal the wounds caused by stabbing words.

HUENING KAI

A chaotic collection of scenes being played on the TV. You cannot figure out the plot, but you do not care much for it. The author won’t know of your small offence anyways. What you’re paying attention to, is the sound of calm breathing. It comes from a face leaning against the top of your head. You can feel the softness of a cheek splayed against your own skin. The shoulder you’re using as a pillow raises along with Kai’s deep breaths. His left hand lies on your thigh, motionless. Fingers twitch every time the volume raises.

Running down a road in the evening. Kai’s hand is secured in your grip, the sound of his irregular breathing mixes with yours. The streetlights cast shadows you pass on the way. Thunder resonates in the background. Small droplets of rain start their descent from the sky. Quite a few land on your head. Before you can make it to the bus stop, the rain turns heavy. Kai pulls you underneath the stop’s roof. You’re standing chest to chest, completely soaked, watching the wall of rain you’re no longer the victim of.

The weight of a heavy arm on your shoulders. It’s warmth spreads through the back of your neck, keeping you safe from the oh so dangerous room temperature. With head empty, you stare at nothing in particular. The conversation Kai is having with his friend doesn’t reach your ears though you’re practically glued to the boy’s side. Somehow having him close makes you forget all about the rest, whatever it may be. Plush on your forehead. You realize it’s a kiss from Kai. Though he doesn’t look at you, s smile blossoms on your features.

Holding onto the corner of his jacket. Kai doesn’t comment your bad mood, but you see the acknowledgement written on his face. There’s a small sympathetic smile that turns teasing every now and then. Kai doesn’t grab your hands, instead waits for you to make the first move. The fact has your eyes saddened. It’s unfair how well he can sync with your emotions. Like he’s a guardian angel of sorts. Kai sends you another smile over his shoulder, but moved, you do not return it.

The infuriating lack of response. You talk, voice raised, knuckles white, and he’s turned away from you, lips closed, back tense. Though you grab his hand, he instantly pulls it free. When you try to stand in front of him, he just turns away. No eye contact, no direct words. He’s infuriating, raising the temperature of your boiling blood. You’ve had enough of yourself and you want him to talk back, but he won’t. No matter how much steam raises from your head, he won’t answer.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[doc-pickles]

don't wanna lose this with you

hello friends I told the group chat I would post this when... well anyways enjoy.

xoxo nina

The moment happens almost too quickly for him to believe it’s real. He’s typing up a chart, about to tell his interns to run labs when she floats across his peripheral vision. He’d recognize her anywhere, always had been able to, but he wasn’t expecting her here. Her hair was shorter, blonde highlighting the normally dark brown color. Her tanned skin popped against the dark grey scrubs she wore, eyes glued to the tablet in front of her. Before he can stop himself, Alex finds himself calling out to her, her eyes darting up in surprise as she moves away from the nurses station to look back at him.

That’s when he sees it, the all too obvious swell of her stomach stretching against her scrubs. She looks like a deer in headlights as their gazes meet, eyes wide and watering. He wants to walk over and fold her into his arms and ask a million questions and apologize profusely all at once, but she’s turning and running the other way before he has a chance.

Alex can barely concentrate the rest of the day, his mind stuck on the vision of Jo standing in the same hallway as him sporting a sizable baby bump. He has no idea why she’s in San Francisco, much less working in a children’s hospital of all places, but he’s grateful that she is and that he just so happened to see her. Lost in his thoughts he barely registers the door of his office opening and closing, the sound of the lock clicking into place startling him from his daze.

Jo is standing with her back pressed against the door, eyes trained on him as silence surrounds them. She’s changed out of her scrubs, her baby bump all the more noticeable with her t-shirt and cardigan combo. Her feet are shifting as if she’s uncomfortable, not with the situation but as if she’s in pain. Her features are schooled and neutral, but Alex doesn’t miss her fingers kneading her back or the slow shallow breaths she takes.

“Sit down, you’ve probably been on your feet all day,” Alex is expecting Jo to bite back with a stubborn remark but instead she silently complies, lowering herself into one of the chairs across from him with a relieved sigh. Her fingers stretch out across her stomach and he can’t help but watch in awe as she attempts to calm the baby beneath her skin.

There’s a silence between them as they sit across from each other. It’s the closest they’ve been in months but it still feels like an ocean’s length between them. Alex watches Jo for a moment before speaking up, “What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you in Seattle?”

“I switched specialties, to OB,” Jo shrugged, eyes focusing on her fingers that are still rubbing circles into her belly. “I had a chance to do an OB residency at UCSF so I took it. I just… I needed to get away from Seattle. I’m here because I was checking up on one of the babies I delivered. What are you doing here?”

The question almost makes Alex laugh, “Izzie’s husband was offered a job as chief of oncology. It made sense for them and the children’s hospital needed a chief so… Here I am.”

Before he even finishes his sentence Jo is chuckling, the sound coming out softly until it turns into full on laughter. Alex stares at her in confusion watching as her laughter turns into loud sobs, tears streaming down her face as she struggles to catch her breath, “You’re so stupid Alex! You’re freaking ridiculous!”

Alex watches helplessly as Jo’s sobs continue to sound out, knowing that she wouldn’t be pleased if he got up to console her. Instead he sits and waits for her to continue talking, knowing he owes her at least that much.

“You left me all alone in Seattle with an empty loft and divorce papers and a freaking baby and you don’t even have the decency to be with the woman you said you loved, the woman you told me you left me for,” Alex can’t tell if Jo is sobbing or laughing at this point, the sounds coming from her wrenching his heart. “You left me! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again because you left after you told me you never would. You told me you were in love with someone else but now you’re here and-“

Alex can’t help it that time as he rounds his desk and kneels in front of Jo, his arms coming up to pull her into his embrace. Her cries don’t stop as he holds her but he takes her arms wrapping around his neck as a sign that not all hope is lost.

-

“Alex? You never call, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, the kids are fine. I was just wondering if you could pick them up today.”

“Sure, I’m off today,” there’s a pause before Izzie speaks up again. “Are you sure everything is okay? With you I mean?”

Alex’s eyes float to Jo who’s curled up on his couch, one hand resting on her stomach as she sleeps, “No. Well I mean yes just… complicated. I’ll explain when I pick up Eli and Lex on Friday. Thanks again.”

“Take care of yourself Alex. See you Friday.”

Alex hangs up quickly, thankful for Izzie’s understanding. The uptight and inquisitive Izzie he had known so many years ago was gone, replaced by a laidback and easy going woman. He blamed their children for that, the set of twins so rambunctious and full throttle that he knows the old Izzie would’ve gone crazy trying to contain them. Now though she managed their hyper spurts and six year old craziness with a two year old on her hip and every hair still in place. How she does it Alex will never know.

His eyes trail to Jo, who had turned to her other side so he could see her face again. Even asleep she looks stressed and exhausted, like she hasn’t been able to sleep peacefully in months. Alex kneels next to the couch, letting his hand rest next to hers on her stomach. A firm kick echoes under his palm, the baby below it moving languidly in their mother’s womb as he cherishes the movement.

“I just got them to settle down,” Jo’s voice startles him, his eyes snapping back up to her face as the baby continues to move around. “They’ve been moving around like crazy the last couple days, probably running out of room.”

“Do you know the gender?”

Jo shakes her head, eyes closing again as her hand shifts to cover Alex’s. She hasn’t told him exactly when but he assumes she’s due soon. He’d left Seattle almost seven months ago now, meaning Jo must have gotten pregnant right before he left. His heart sinks at the realization that not only had he missed witnessing all of Jo’s pregnancy firsthand but he hadn’t been able to help or support her either.

“I don’t need you Alex, I can do this by myself,” Jo’s words snap Alex out of his daze, scanning her face and watching her intently as she avoids his gaze. “I’ve been doing this on my own for seven months and I don’t need you now.”

He knows she’s right, if anyone knows what a fighter Jo is it’s him. Alex knows full well that she doesn’t need his help or support with their child no matter how desperately he wants to be there for her. If she decides to walk away from him after everything he’d done she would and there would be no stopping her.

“I don’t need you… but I want you here,” the crack in her voice has Alex leaning up to wipe at the tears that streak her cheeks, her own fingers moving to curl around his. “Please don’t leave again. I don’t want to do this without you, I know I could but I don’t want to. Please Alex.”

He doesn’t waste any time in leaning down and bringing Jo into his embrace, holding her close to his chest as sobs wrack her body. The guilt that has been weighing so heavily on him finally crashes down as he holds her, his grip tightening as he reassures her, “I’m not leaving again, I promise. I’m so sorry Jo, I’m not going to leave you I swear.”

“That’s what you said last time Alex, I can’t handle it if you leave me again,” Jo pulls back from his embrace, meeting his eyes solemnly. “It’s not just me anymore, you can’t just walk away again. I want… I want so badly to trust you again and to raise our baby together but I’m also really scared. I’m putting a lot on the line trusting you.”

Alex pauses for a moment, eyeing Jo as he processes everything she’s unloaded onto him. When he finally speaks again, he’s more sure of his words than he has been of anything ever, “I’m not gonna promise you anything, I don’t deserve that privilege anymore. But I swear that everyday I’ll try my hardest to show you how much you mean to me. You and our baby… you’re everything and I’m not letting you go again. I know my words are hollow at this point but I’m going to show you that I mean them.”

He doesn’t think that the words will magically fix anything, that his promises to Jo will change her mind or make her completely trust him just like that. But saying them out loud, to not only her but himself, made the words seem more real. He wasn’t going to let her slip out his grasp again.

+

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

“I’m about to head into a board meeting,” Alex pauses outside of the conference room, phone pressed to his ear as he waits for Jo to continue talking. “Are you okay? What about the baby?”

“We’re both fine, stop freaking out,” Jo’s laugh across the line calms Alex’s racing heart momentarily, a small grin coming to his face. “I just finished a delivery, but my water broke right as I was catching the baby.”

“You’re not due for two weeks,” Alex exclaims as he begins heading for his office, his meeting long forgotten as he now had a different destination in mind. “How are you so calm about this?”

“Because I knew you’d be freaking out. We’re fine, really we are. I just got settled into my room,” Alex listens intently as Jo takes a pause, her breathing more shallow as he grabs his keys and wallet from his desk. “Okay that hurt. If this kid has a giant head I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Alex chuckles to himself, his mind reeling at the fact that in a few hours he and Jo would have their baby in their arms, “I’m leaving the hospital now, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Good, I don’t want my new coworkers to hate me because I yelled at them while trying to push a giant Karev baby out of my-,” Jo’s voice cuts off as she lets out a groan, the sound pulling at Alex’s heart as he speeds through the hallways in an attempt to get to her quicker. “Oh holy fuck. Seriously, that’s what that feels like? No wonder my patients are always screaming.”

“Well yeah, you’re about to push out almost eight pounds of-“

“That’s enough from you, I’ll see you when you get here. Room 282,” Jo pauses for a moment, Alex stopping his walk to his car as he listens intently. Even with things still tense between them, he could tell when she was nervous. “Just don’t take too long, okay?”

“I’ll be there as fast as I possibly can be, promise,” Alex quickly exchanges goodbyes with Jo before hanging up and continuing his path to his car.

As he climbs in his eyes move to the car seat strapped into his backseat. The sight wasn’t unusual since he often had the twins with him but the infant carrier made his heart swell with anticipation. He was going to be a dad again and this time he was going to be able to witness his child’s life from the moment it started. No playing catch up, no surprises down the line, he would be there from his child’s first breath and he’d get to raise them with the woman he loved.

Alex lets his thoughts drift to Jo as he makes the short drive to the main hospital across town. He was beyond thankful she’d given him a second chance when he absolutely hadn’t deserved one, even more thankful that she’d allowed him to still be in not only their child’s life but hers as well. Jo had met Alexis and Eli who were immediately fascinated with Jo’s belly and the fact that their sibling was moving around in there. She’d bonded instantly with his children, Alex sometimes questioning if they liked her better than him. They’d talked a little bit, about the baby and what the future held for the three of them. For the most part though, Alex and Jo communicated physically, the way they always did best.

He was shocked the first night she’d spent over at his house when she’d left the guest room not long after they'd said goodnight, quietly crawling beneath the covers of his own bed and molding her body against the side of his. It felt natural, the way they curled together even with their child growing between them. When he woke the next morning, Jo looked peaceful instead of restless and worried like he had noted days before when she’d napped on his couch. After that it seemed only natural for them to find their way into each other’s arms at the end of the day, whether at his house or her apartment. Alex’s fingers would float across her belly as he traced their baby’s movements while Jo’s hands held tight to his t-shirt, both of their bodies falling into a deep sleep.

The few nights that they spent apart when one of them would return alone to their respective homes were soon nonexistent, Jo’s voice breaking through the quiet of her room one night to mention that her lease would be up soon. And so, without a verbal conversation about the matter Alex had spent a weekend moving her few belongings into his home, the nursery furniture she’d collected finding a new home in the guest room and Jo herself finding solace in her permanent position on the other side of Alex’s bed.

Lost in his thoughts, Alex barely notices that he’s arrived at the hospital. While the children’s hospital was large, the main hospital at UCSF was massive. The few times he’d come for a meeting or to pick up Jo Alex had almost always gotten lost. Thankfully he knew exactly where he was headed today and made it to the maternity ward without any issues, pausing outside of Jo’s room for only a moment before walking in.

“I’m perfectly capable of checking my own damn cervix Wendy,” Alex watches as Jo swats away the older doctor's hand, her face scrunching up in irritation. “I don’t need everyone I work with getting an up close look at my lady bits today.”

“Well you look like you’re in good spirits,” Alex steps fully into the room, pressing a kiss to Jo’s forehead as she continues to stare down the doctor in front of her. “Let her check, I’m pretty sure you can’t even reach down there anyways.”

Jo begrudgingly lays back down, letting Wendy check her as Alex brushes back her hair. As soon as the examination is done though, she’s sitting up and removing her legs from the stirrups they were in.

“You know I don’t even know why I’m here, I’ve delivered hundreds of babies before,” Jo is throwing off the blankets on her lap and swinging her legs over the side and pulling at the few monitors she was already hooked up to. “We’re going home, I’m not giving birth here. I’m more than capable of delivering my own baby.”

“Jo, you’re not going anywhere,” the doctor looks from Jo to Alex, fixing him with a serious stare. “You’re fully dilated, your baby is about ready to make their appearance. I’m shocked you’re just getting settled in here.”

Alex moves quickly, placing his hands on Jo’s shoulder and blocking her path as she attempts to stand and leave. She tries to vocally protest, but quickly doubles over with a groan as a contraction hits her, “Would you lay back down? We’re not going anywhere, you heard your doctor.”

Jo shakes her head, still doubled over as she attempts to speak through her pain, “I’m… fine. Don’t need… to be here. Shit that hurts!”

Moving his fingers down, Alex applies counter pressure to Jo’s back as the contraction continues. The doctor gives him an understanding smile, gathering what she needs as she gives the two a small moment of privacy. When Jo’s body finally relaxes against him, he moves his hands to gently rub her back as she evens her breathing out.

“You wanna tell me why you’re all of sudden trying to break out of here,” when Jo doesn’t respond to his question, Alex kneels in front of her, taking her now tear stained cheeks between his hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this, I’m not supposed to be a mom. I am… terrified that I’m going to mess everything up and I’m even more scared that I’m going to have to do all of this by myself,” Jo’s breathing grows more ragged as she begins to sob, her shoulders dropping as she lets the emotion wash over her. “How am I supposed to have someone rely on me for everything when I don’t even have that? I was almost all alone here, Alex! You left me and the only reason you’re here is because we just so happened to run into each other again. And I didn’t even mean to get pregnant! I’m only here because I missed my birth control and we drank too much and had sex in the backseat of your car! I just can’t do this… None of this was supposed to happen, I just can’t- Oh god!”

Jo’s panicked ranting is cut off by another contraction, her body involuntarily curling towards him as she lets out a pained groan. Alex attempts to calm her down as she grips his arms, her crying growing louder as she holds onto him.

“Deep breaths, let it out. You’re okay,” Alex’s attempts to get Jo to breathe and calm herself down are futile as she begins to hyperventilate, fingers digging tightly into his biceps. “Jo, you’re stressing yourself and the baby out. I’m right here in front of you and I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving, okay? But no matter what, you’re going to be a mom here soon and I don’t think there’s anyone more prepared. You’re going to be a great mom, that’s something that nothing and no one can change. Our kid? They're the luckiest person on earth to have you as their mom so don’t doubt yourself for a second.”

His words seem to get through to Jo as she relaxes against his shoulder, her cries softening as she reaches blindly for his hand. Alex squeezes back gently as he lets her come down from her panicked state, his arms holding her close to him.

“You are going to be amazing, but we have to stay here and get this baby out. We can worry about the rest later okay,” Jo finally looks up at Alex, his fingers still caressing her cheeks as she attempts to stifle her cries. “Jo you… You are so strong and so brave and I know even if I wasn’t here that you would be able to get through this. But I am, I’m here and I’m never going to leave you or our baby, ever. And I can't promise that something else won’t happen, but I’ll live every day trying to prevent it. I love you so much and I know you love me and we have the rest of our lives to figure everything else out, okay?”

Jo leaned forward, her head resting against Alex’s shoulder as she forced out her next words, “I really really need to push. Like right now.”

Alex acts quickly, alerting the doctor who’d stepped into the hall before coming back to Jo’s side. Her fingers interlock with his and she only pushes for fifteen minutes before she collapses against him with a sigh of relief. Not a moment later there’s a small cry that echoes through the room and both Alex and Jo watch in fascination as the squirming baby settles quickly onto Jo’s chest.

The next hour passes in a blur, everything around him moving a thousand miles a minute, but when he finally has a moment to breathe all Alex can do is stare at Jo. Her eyes are focused on the now swaddled and sleeping baby in her arms, fingers brushing over the chubby cheeks and dark curls of hair on the infant.

“I love you too,” Jo’s words are barely above a whisper as she continues to stare at the baby in her arms. “I didn’t say it earlier, mainly because I was in pain but also because some days it seems easier to try and convince myself that I don’t anymore. But I do love you Alex, even if this little one wasn’t a part of our lives there’s this part of me that loves you so much no matter what we’ve been through.”

Too stunned to move, Alex finds himself staring blankly at Jo as she moves her gaze from the baby up to him. Her eyes are wide and shining with tears, but she doesn’t look upset. Instead she reaches a hand out towards him and gestures for him to join her on the hospital bed. He doesn’t hesitate, his arm wrapping around Jo’s shoulder as she snuggles into his side. The baby on her chest readjusts, one hand reaching upwards which Alex grabs between his own fingers.

“He looks just like you,” Jo chuckles as she leans her head against his chest. “I’m screwed aren't I?”

“Mmm I think if you can survive one Karev boy two will be a walk in the park.”

[confused-stars]

Alienfam AU - Chapter One

ao3 link here! ko-fi link here!

Chapter One: The house lay still and empty beneath the overhanging trees when Hitoshi approached on the road.

Just as he'd planned. He didn't want to talk things out right now, just wanted to quietly fume for a while because didn't he deserve it? Having a parent who always tried to understand everything sucked sometimes.

And some things couldn't be fixed by talking.

Hitoshi unlocked the front door and toed his shoes off. He was immediately greeted by the welcoming meow of their cat, Coffee. For once, he didn't immediately lean down to scratch her head, and she seemed mildly perplexed at that.

Hitoshi just ignored her and moved past into the kitchen living room combo. There was a covered bowl of something sitting on the counter, along with a note.

The note read 'if you need to talk, text any time. i'll see you tomorrow otherwise.'

Short and to the point. Hitoshi looked at it for a long moment. Then he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash.

He ignored the food, too, instead grabbing a pack of cookies from the snack drawer - he deserved comfort food right now.

He hated fighting with his dad. He didn't want to snap at him, ever, but it had been happening more and more lately. Sometimes, Hitoshi couldn't stand his worried looks, his prying questions, his 'your teacher called again' this and 'you don't need to shut me out' that.

Hitoshi wasn't six anymore. He knew his dad couldn't just magically make everything better.

Besides, it was fine. He was fine. He just wanted to be left alone for a change, was that too much to ask?

Except... no, that wasn't quite right, was it?

The crux of the problem was that Hitoshi didn't have anyone. Aside from his father and the cat, that was. Maybe Aunt Nem when she wasn't off traveling.

And Hitoshi didn't like to socialize, either. But sometimes... sometimes he just felt entirely alone in the world. Mostly when everyone else in school ganged up on him, calling him names, whispering about him, even throwing things at him or breaking his stuff, sometimes. He hadn't told his dad about the broken spinner keychain yet. He didn't want him to get angry and make a fuss with the school. No, this was Hitoshi's own problem to deal with and he was doing just fine.

He sat on his bed and booted up his laptop, wrapped in a comforting cocoon of blanket, cookies in his lap. Maybe a good horror movie or something would help. No way was he sleeping yet, despite being bone-tired. He wouldn't be able to, anyways.

Hopefully he'd collapse some time close to the early morning hours so he wouldn't have to pretend to be asleep when his dad checked on him. He never quite believed he was all that convincing.

Hitoshi clicked his way around Netflix aimlessly, nothing really catching his eye. Not even his usual comfort movies seemed to hit the spot. There was just... nothing. Staring at the one slightly off colored spot on the ceiling all night was starting to sound tempting.

But he had to think back to the insults thrown at him by a handful of boys in his class today. Well. Not at him. More like they'd all grouped together and talked about him so loudly he'd be sure to hear.

'Obviously she didn't want him. If I were stuck with him, I'd try to get rid of him, too.'

Since they'd learned about his mother, things had only gotten worse.

It was fucking unfair. Hitoshi had done nothing to them and he couldn't understand how they didn't even have the common fucking decency to not make digs at family stuff like that.

He didn't even miss his mom. He hadn't known her. His dad had always been enough.

But the fact that they had dared... he'd gotten so angry. He hadn't gotten physical, he'd never been the type and the martial arts classes his dad had signed him up for helped channel any of that sort of energy into something safe. But he had cursed quite a bit as he'd shot back at the boys, talking about how one of their dads was probably fucking his secretary who always picked him up from school, and how another would die alone in a ditch somewhere by twenty-five, high out of his mind.

They had laughed. But the teacher who had overheard him hadn't been so amused.

And neither had his father.

Hitoshi closed his laptop forcefully and fell back on the bed. No one gave a shit about his opinion. He couldn't even fight back - all they ever did was laugh and not at all take him seriously. That feeling of complete and utter powerlessness, combined with how much he just wanted a single friend... it was overwhelming enough that he felt his throat tighten painfully now, and tears shooting into his eyes.

It wasn't fucking fair.

The universe had it out for him specifically.

... said universe chose that moment to make itself known.

The bright light outside the window flashed up so suddenly, and was so strong, that Hitoshi instinctively wrenched his arm up to protect his face and still only saw little dots of light for a good few seconds, long enough to almost panic. A cacophony of noise followed, cracking, frantic beeping, something... impacting.

Then silence.

His vision returned, and Hitoshi was left blinking into the darkness of his room. The hair on his arms stood on end. Not only from whatever shock this had been, but because the air felt almost charged with... something.

He slowly sat up and looked towards the window.

Nothing. He couldn't have just imagined this, could he?

When he stood, his knees buckled underneath him for a moment. Huh. He walked over to the window and peered outside.

There was no more glow.

But the forest that started beneath their house seemed... oddly shaped against the dark night sky. He couldn't see much, but it seemed like some trees had been forcefully bent out of the way of... something moving through them. As he watched, one of them slowly leaned further to the side and finally, with a loud crack, broke and fell.

Hitoshi stared for a long moment, his own heartbeat loud in his ears. A... meteor? Did that kind of thing happen outside of tv? Didn't people have ways to predict their flight patterns now, so they would've been warned?

Except... what if it wasn't a meteor?

Hitoshi wished his dad was here, but only briefly, as he scrambled to find his phone buried under his sheets. He shoved it into his pocket and all but sprinted to the front door to pull on his shoes.

Hitoshi didn't believe in aliens. He didn't believe in much of anything, really. Only in himself and his dad and maybe that cats had nine lives.

But he wanted to know what was going on, and if it was something weird, the area would be off limits soon enough. He just wanted to be the first to get a look. Just one look.

The event had shaken him from his self-pitying stupor, so he felt like he had to keep the momentum going.

Coffee was nowhere in sight even though she normally tried to slip out at night if he wasn't careful about the door. T he crash must have freaked her out, too. Hitoshi made a mental note to check on her when he got back, even as he rounded the house and jogged towards the edge of the woods.

The faint smell of smoke lay in the air. Was something burning? There was a... metallic note to it. It almost bit into Hitoshi's nose as he breathed.

He climbed over the low fence separating their backyard from the woods, and then he was off, following the path he'd followed hundreds of times in his life, deeper into the woods.

The smoke in the air got thicker as he walked, until it was bad enough that he had to stifle coughs, but there was a faint flickering of light visible through the underbrush now, and he just wanted to catch a glimpse. Then he'd turn around. Just a glimpse.

Hitoshi climbed over a fallen tree, pushing through the branches that made up its crown. As his feet hit the forest floor again, his field of vision was finally cleared.

And... fuck.

Hitoshi stared.

Coughed against the smoke.

Kept staring.

That... wasn't a meteor.

In front of him sat a crater, with smoldering fires dotting it here and there, and there was an object resting in the middle of it. But said object was not a large rock like he'd expected.

It was a spaceship.

It was undoubtedly, irrefutably, a spaceship.

Or what was left of one anyway.

It didn't look like just some piece of space station trash, either - there were thrusters and what looked like a windshield, or whatever you would call that on a spaceship... fuck, it was a spaceship.

Hitoshi shook his head. His eyes were stinging from the smoke, but they weren't fooling him.

He really needed to get out of here. What if the authorities came and decided to silence him or something, because he'd seen too much? A Men in Black style mindwipe would be the best outcome in that scenario.

He took a slow step backwards, not taking his eyes off the wreck.

And then the latch on its side opened with the hissing of decompressed air.

Hitoshi should have bolted right there, but for the first time he understood why deer didn't just run off the street when a car came barreling towards them. He felt rooted to the ground.

A hand appeared, grasping onto the edge of the opening Hitoshi couldn't quite see into from this position. Then a second hand. There was a soft noise of effort, and then out came tumbling a small figure.

The alien hit the ground with a pained, high-pitched cry, and stayed curled up there, face turned away from where Hitoshi was standing.

It looked... human. At least its shape did. There were four limbs and the hands had looked just like normal hands, even if they were small.

The alien had silvery white hair that was splayed about it in a messy tangle now, and it was wearing some kind of white, shapeless tunic.

It wasn't moving, but Hitoshi could see it still breathing.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

Then he begun his descent into the crater.