#shitty art for the lack of content

[pensivebathtub]

evil bmc doodles from today (boyfs swap au i will never fully develop)

[thekeatoncadet]

Also on the topic of Faye and dumb self-indulgent oc content

[pedgito]

rentals & records ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x fem!reader.

summary: eddie can't hide the fact that he's sort of obsessed with you, but you can't deny that you might be secretly obsessed with him too.

cw: 18+ content (minors, shoo!), fem!reader, oral sex (f&m receiving), soft sex, virgin!eddie

word count: 11.4k. someone shut me up pls.

request are always open!

“I really need to know who rents this thing out so much that the entire cover is starting to fall apart.” Steve’s holding up a horrible worn out version of a Cheech & Chong movie you can’t decipher the title of. You squint, hard. It was pretty faded, pun absolutely intended. Reefer Rick was still in prison, so that counted him out immediately—there could be only one other culprit.

The familiar clang of the entrance bell startled you half to death, sending you whipping around to look behind you.

“Harrington! How’s it been?” Eddie Munson, of course.

“Eddie.” Steve nods in greeting, sounding exhausted already. You kick him in the shin, eyes sending him a look of warning when he yelps in pain. “What brings you in?”

You three already knew the answer to that question. It was you. Eddie had used every reason under the sun to find a way to come visit you while you were working. It was kind of endearing, you couldn’t lie. But, Eddie was a friend. He had always been just a friend.

“Just returning a rental.” Eddie replies, waving the VHS above his head.

“I’ve got it.” You assure Steve, who couldn’t be bothered to leave the mess of already disorganized rentals he had to sort through. You couldn’t tell if it was the girl trouble—or lack thereof, that Steve was having that was causing him to be in such a slump, or the general lack of disinterest in his job.

“Eddie.” Your voice is dripping with sweetness, fingertips dragging along the counter as you scoot in behind the front desk. “Just returning?”

“Might take a quick look around, if you don’t mind.” He tells you, hands shoved into his front pockets. “Unless you’ve got some suggestions, princess?”

You let out a soft ‘hmph’, shaking your head at the nickname he had come up with. It started sophomore year of high school, a shitty jab at how prissy you acted—a lot of that was part of hanging around with the wrong crowd. But, now you had Steve—you balanced each other out pretty well. The word felt different coming from his mouth now, a lot less bite behind it. You had always been friends, but never close enough that you spent time with him outside of school or sat with him at lunch, to busy with the swarm of girls that flocked around each other, you being suck right into the center of it all. That didn't stop the dizzying feeling you felt every time he set his eyes on you.

“I’m fresh out.” You assure him with a playful smirk, you hesitantly point in Steve’s direction. “But, we just got one of your favorites back in, if you wanna rent it out.”

“My favorite?” He teases, curling a stray strand of hand around his finger. It was almost criminal how beautiful his hair was, never a piece out of place, a true work of art. “You keepin’ tabs on me?”

“It’s in the system, Eddie.” It was his most frequented rental and always came back reeking of weed—something you didn’t even know to be possible. “You’ve rented it out sixteen times.”

“Oh.” He deflated slightly—he seemed a little ashamed, maybe? You didn’t find it weird, not really—there’s no way you could admit how many times you’ve watched The Breakfast Club, something you would carry with you to the grave.

“Steve!” You shout, grabbing his attention. Your head nods in the direction of Eddie—and like Steve was a mind reader, tosses the rental in your direction. You catch it with ease, tossing it on the counter. A stoner’s favorite, that was for sure.

“You rent these out to high school students?” Eddie asks from an obscure corner of the store—“Robocock. Huh, that’s fucking hilarious.”

Steve’s at a loss for words, glancing at you from his hiding spot, surfing through his ever growing pile. You stifle that laugh that comes out at the sight of his horrified face. You didn’t understand why Steve looked so scandalized when you knew he snuck out the adult film rentals on a regular basis. He just wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was.

“You’re twenty, Eddie.” You remind him, “Not seventeen.”

He shrugs, tossing it back on the shelf. “Got any new releases?”

You think for a moment, “No, not for the past few weeks. I guess you’ll just have to suffer through a few more rewatches of those ridiculous little stoner movies you like.”

“Hey, not ridiculous.” His ringed finger is pointing in your direction, he’s slowly making his way back toward the cash register, glancing aimlessly down the aisle, eyes not really landing on anything in particular—except for you. “They’re a cinematic masterpiece.”

Entirely too unconvinced, you hold your hand out, waiting for him to slide over his ID. “You just gotta give ‘em a try, I swear.” He adds, setting the card in your hand gently.

He’s got the biggest grin on his face, which wasn’t out of the norm for him, but his eyes lingered on your for a little too long and that last thing you wanted to think was that it was meant entirely for you. Because no, absolutely not. You could not handle another boy wrecking your life, right now.

“No, Robocock?” You tease, the word sounds even more lewd than you had intended.

While you had never partaken in the content yourself, you were aware. You just couldn’t handle the cheesy lines and horrible faked situations that ended with someone getting pounded over an object that looked way too uncomfortable to be spread out over—they were a hard, hard no.

You clear your throat awkwardly, realizing how caught off guard Eddie looked—like you had insulted his all time favorite metal band and shit on his choice of music all in one go—you could never shit on Eddie’s music choice, not when you indulged in the same songs on a daily basis. But really, he was at a loss of words.

“Maybe next time.” He says slowly, trying to recover from whatever the fuck just happened.

“Sweet.” You drag out, attempting to input the rental information into the decrepit contraption in front of you, waiting for what felt like hours for it to finally rise from the dead. “And you’re good, here—“

“Are you busy this weekend?” Eddie asks suddenly, jarring you out of reality for a moment. His voice quieter, like he was hoping Steve wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Yeah, actually.” You tell him. It wasn’t an excuse, you were working a double shift to cover Steve’s ass because you were an amazing friend who cared about their well-being and ability to potentially help your friend get laid. “I have to work all weekend.”

“Oh—sounds like torture.” He jokes, tapping the VHS idly against the counter. He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, and you hate how disappointed that makes you feel. “I guess I’ll be seeing you again this weekend then, princess.”

“Can’t wait.” You reply teasingly, causing Eddie to chuckle quietly in response. “God knows I’ll be boring myself to death all weekend.”

“I’ll be your knight in shining armor, no worries.” He adds, adjusting the front of his jacket, displaying the infamous Hellfire Club tee he dawned underneath.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You wiggle a finger at him, watching intently as he made a show of swinging a fake sword, walking backwards toward the door, not realizing that he was about to run smack into another customer.

“Hey, fuckin’ watch it, kid.” A much older man shouts, shoving past Eddie. You can’t help but laugh.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your shift at Family Video on Saturday is entirely too uneventful, aside from the two underage kids who tried to sneak in and steal some of the content from the adult section, which then promptly ended in them being embarrassed by half of the store during one of the busier hours of the day. You shooed them away quickly and suffered through the rest of that god forsaken shift—boy, was that a story for Steve.

Thankfully, Sunday comes quickly and you’re shuffling out of your house at the speed of light, trying to make it before opening time to set up the store in peace.

“Don’t forget, sweetheart—I need you to cover the store for a few hours while I’m gone tonight.” Your dad spoke, stopping you at the front door. You nod your head fervently, assuring him that he had nothing to worry about.

“Gotcha, I’ll make sure to lock up everything, don’t worry.”

He was definitely going to remind you about ten more times.

He owned a small record store on the corner of downtown, right across from the frequently visited supermarket that almost the entire town went to. It was great for business, amazing in fact, always bringing back the old customers, but happily welcoming in the new ones. It was his prized possession and probably the only reason you leaned so heavily into loving music.

You spend an hour setting up shop at Family Video—wiping down counters, checking on any new stock, and finally settling down into a spot to sort through rentals that either needed to be thrown out or re-shelved. It was monotonous, but enough to keep you busy—busy enough that the store had already been open for at least a half hour, you not even bothering to flip on the neon sign that hung from the front window of the store.

“This might help.” The familiar voice says,, nearly scaring the life out of you. You grasp your chest in horror, falling ass first onto the floor. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Jesus, Eddie—the fuck is wrong with you?” You ask, standing at full height, the top of your head barely reaching his nose. “You cannot sneak up on people like that.”

“I figured you heard me come in—plus, the doors were unlocked.” Fair point. Still, you were annoyed. “Really, you okay?”

“Yeah.” You huff, smoothing the dust off of your pants and adjusting the horrible, itchy work vest you wore. “Just, please—never do that again.”

“Cross my heart.” Eddie replies endearingly, hand pressed against his chest. He leans forward, noticing the small button on your vest that read ‘Ask me about Science Fiction!’, he flicks it amusingly.

“So, any good suggestions for me today?” He asks, “maybe something science fiction-y?” Eddie’s fishing for something, you’re just not sure what. You steal the previous rental from his hands, placing it on the counter.

“I would suggest Star Wars, but I think that’s an obvious one—you’ve probably already seen it.” You travel down the row, Eddie not very far behind.

“I haven’t.”

Your mouth practically drops to the floor in shock—of course Eddie hadn’t seen it, this man knew of three things—weed, heavy rock music, and more weed.

“What? Is that bad?” His eyebrow is quirked up inquisitively, bracing both hands against the top of surrounding rows.

“It’s a fucking crime, Eddie.” You slap the rental into his chest, grabbing his hand to force it into his hold and out of yours.

He’s laughing, turning on his heels to follow you obediently. Truly, he just hadn’t found the time to actually sit down and enjoy it, it wasn’t entirely his fault.

“So, Star Wars—check.” He lists off, “Anything else?”

“You should probably start off slow.” You suggest coyly, patting his arm. “No need to over indulge, then you won’t be able to put them down.”

That was his problem exactly. He’d overindulged into you and now—he just couldn’t quit, he had to know everything. Likes, dislikes, why you always came to school with such a sour puss look on your face, or why you always ate lunch in your car instead of inside the cafeteria—why you always made sure to bump into him in the hallway just to find a reason to speak to him in front of his friends (okay, maybe you definitely went out of your way to talk to him as often as you could.) —not that he cared, but he wasn’t losing his mind when he noticed that his interest wasn’t completely one-sided.

And yeah, maybe Eddie was just what you needed, but boys—boys were off limits. School, work, home. That’s how your life worked and it worked well. Routine was the only thing that kept you on such a straight line. Aside from that freshman hook up with Jason, then Jay from Band class, and that one—very quick—time with Aaron from Physics, there was also the other Erin—in contrast, she’d been an absolute dream to experience, both as a friend and someone who you felt safe enough sharing some of your firsts with. So maybe you weren’t as focused as you should’ve been—but you were trying, that counted, right?

“Princess,” Eddie’s voice brings you back to the surface, his fingers snapping in your face to break you from the trance you had fallen in, “time to come back to the land of the living.”

“Sorry,” You smile sheepishly, “What were you saying?”

He has the nerve to look smug, the faintest trace of a smirk on his face. “I didn’t say anything. You just went blank and—“ He waves his hands wildly in your direction, as if that made any sense.

You try to calm your thoughts, your mind, focusing yourself with the task at hand—get Eddie Munson out of here as soon as possible.

“Got that spare copy of Robo—“ You pull the copy of the horrible named porno from under the desk where you had left. That section was a nightmare to sort through. “Oh, well there was supposed to be a joke there—but now I forgot.” He seemed caught off guard by the idea that you already knew exactly what he was gearing to say. “You hidin’ it for yourself or something?”

“God no.” You scoff, typing idly. “I never step foot in that area of the store—that’s all Harrington’s domain.”

Eddie extends his hand out, making a soft grabbing motion toward the object in your hand. You offer it up cautiously, watching as he saunters over to the section and plopped it right back into the spot it belonged.

Well, that was one way to make the job easier. Actually—

“Hey, are you busy right now?” It’s a shot in the dark, but it’s still worth it.

“Depends on why you’re asking.” Eddie says slowly, palms resting against the counter upon his return. He’s eyeing you carefully, you try not to look away.

“I could use the help sorting,” You start, pointing at the pile you hadn’t even made a dent in yet, “and I’ve gotta cover a shift at the record store in a few hours, so I’d really like to get this shit done, preferably today.”

“Record store? The one over by Bradley’s Big Buy?” Eddie perked up out of nowhere. “I go there all the time.”

“Yeah.” You reply is slow, methodical. “My dad owns it.”

“No fuckin’ way.” If Eddie was trying to hide the fact that you may have just become his favorite person ever, he was doing a terrible job. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You know what—you help me get through all of this before my shift ends and I’ll let you sift through the storage in the back of the record shop where we keep the real gems, let you take a few as a reward for your hard work. Deal?” You hold out your hand, waiting for the deal to be set in stone.

“Oh, hell yeah.” Eddie says, shaking your hand firmly.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The keys jingle as you fiddle with the lock on the door. Eddie’s feet doing a soft pitter-patter behind you. He was antsy as hell, more so than you had ever seen him. It was driving you insane—you turn abruptly to look at him.

“Eddie, seriously—I’m going to have to strap you to a chair if you don’t stop.” He didn’t think you were serious, but you were absolutely willing to do whatever was needed.

“Sorry.” He says softly, the shuffling coming to a stop a few moments after. You offer him a warm smile, finally managing to force the lock to turn, opening the back entrance to the shop.

The smell was something you could never forget. It was similar to the smell of old books, mixed with the sweet smell of cinnamon. The small area that encased the back of the store was for employees—a lounge area fit for a few people with a small kitchenette attached. You glance back at Eddie, who hadn’t moved from the spot he was in. You grab for his wrist, gently yanking him inside and shutting the door behind you.

“When I said stop I didn’t mean freeze.” You joke playfully, continuing to hold onto the sleeve of his jacket as you tug him through the rest of the way, turning another corner to reach the storage room. “A few rules—none of the boxes off the top shelf, mostly because I don’t want you hurting yourself and I have no idea how sturdy those things are and two, you don’t speak a word of this to anyone—not a single soul, Eddie Munson.”

“Heard, boss.” He nods eagerly.

“Voila.” Throwing your hand out to the side fancifully, allowing him a grand entrance into the only sacred part of this building.

If anyone found out about this, you were surely dead.

“There’s a few first editions in here, some misprints, a lot of represses and remasters—it’s a lot so just…have at it.” Eddie’s holding his hands close to his body, afraid that if he touches anything it was going to disintegrate into a pile of dust, which was very well possible.

“Personally, I’d go with a copy of Ozzy or Iron Maiden, these are almost impossible to get your hands on.” You pull out the two covers simultaneously, parading them out for show. His smile is genuine, but it doesn’t seem to be what he’s looking for.

He scans around for a minute before finally stopping on a box a few feet away. “Aha!” Eddie exclaims, holding the piece up in front of him. “Found you.”

Metallica. You should’ve known. It was a damn good album, even you could attest to that. “Good choice.” You nudge him gently, sifting through the box in front of him. If he wants to say something, he doesn’t. Eddie bites his tongue, for once. It was way too much to unpack in one evening—the idea of some popular priss of the school like you even recognizing how absolutely metal this album was.

“Actually, I think I’ll stick with this.” Eddie tells you, following your lead as you exited the storage room. He didn’t want to be greedy or take advantage of the situation and you were fine with that, it was nice, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time you had ever managed to have a conversation with a boy that didn’t end with him asking to shove a hand up your shirt, or worse.

Though, Eddie’s own bubble of bliss popped at the sound of a voice carrying through to the back of the store, eyes widening in fear. You panic, shoving him into a dark corner, down one of the rows, yanking him down to squat out of sight.

“I thought you said we didn’t have to worry about your dad showing up?!” Eddie says in a hushed whisper, eyes showing how desperate he was to escape this situation.

You silence him with the palm of your hand, pulling him lower, almost on top of you, to avoid being seen. You turn to peek from under the legs that held up the bins of records, watching as your father wandered around until he found what he was looking for—his wallet, of all fucking things. Eddie says something into your hand, but it’s muffled. You swat him gently, but it’s enough to warrant a warning—and the look you give him... he obeys almost immediately.

The moment you two are finally alone again, you both collapse with a loud sigh on the floor—hearts pounding out of your chest.

“Am I dead?” Eddie asks, staring up at the ceiling. You lean over him, popping into his line of sight.

“If you’re dead, I guess I’ll have to take back that copy of—“ You slowly reach for the record he still had a death grip on.

“No, no. Anything but that.” He begs, holding it closer to his chest. You chuckle softly, pushing yourself up. Eddie follows suit slowly, still reeling from the aftermath of what had just happened.

“Wanna listen for a bit?” You suggest, trying to ease some of his nerves. “I’ve got a few minutes until I have to open shop and that record player up front is top of the fuckin’ line. It sounds amazing.”

“You wanna listen? To Metallica?” He asks, confirming what he had suspected earlier, but it still didn’t help hide the bewilderment he was experiencing.

“The fact that I know you’re judging me so hard is kind of an asshole move, Munson.” You tease, grabbing the vinyl from his hand and setting it onto the record player.

It crackles to life, almost like magic, the song begins to play dimly in the background. You didn’t want to risk blowing the speakers out this early, so a manageable volume seemed appropriate.

“I’m not judging, I swear. I just—I had no idea, you know.” He’s leaning against the wall, hands crossed loosely over his chest. “Metal heads are a rare breed, they think we’re all fuckin’ nuts.”

“Aren’t we?” You joke, perched against the top of one of the leather chairs arranged near the entrance.

“There’s no way you’re real.” Eddie shakes his head with disbelief, running a twitchy hand through the back of his hair. It makes your heart twinge, the way he sounds so exasperated over the whole thing.

“I’m very real.” You remind him, poking gently at his arm. Eddie makes a small sound, a huff of laughter, though pained in the way it never actually leaves his mouth. “You okay, Eddie?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine.”

Eddie was either impossible to read, or showing his emotions on his sleeve, there was no in-between. But right now, you were struggling to decipher why he seemed so off—switching from foot to foot nervously, fingers pulling at the loose thread on his jacket absently, chewing softly at his bottom lip like he’s trying desperately to stop himself from talking.

Screw always staying on the straight and narrow, you were taking the damn leap. You reach out for the hand that was tugging at a flimsy piece thread, fingers wrapping loosely around his own. His gaze is soft, looking up at you ever so slightly. “Eddie, you can talk to me.”

“Huh.” It’s a quiet sound, but you watch that way his chest bounces at the action. He’s eerily silent, like he can’t find the words to talk—but you could do enough of that for the both of you.

“Okay, don’t talk to me.” It comes out wrong, condescending. You scramble for a moment, “Not—I mean, I want you to feel like you can talk to me, but if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.” It’s a gentle reminder that no matter what, you respected his boundaries.

I’m kind of obsessed with you—is what he wants to say. But he can’t. He can’t even form the words. Any words. He takes a long, deep breath to calm himself.

“Please don’t hate me for this.”

“Why would I—“ Oh.

It felt…too good, too right, too entirely fuckin’ real. You can’t even find it in you to pull back, inhaling shakily against Eddie’s mouth, parting just enough to give you the space you needed to let your brain catch up with the rest of your body.

“Still don’t hate you.” You whisper into the air between you both, lips still close enough that they graze against his with every movement.

“Good.” He sighs, reaching forward to press one last sweet, lingering kiss against your lips. It was a lot less scandalous than you anticipated—not that you ever imagined kissing Eddie Munson...but still, definitely better than any expectation you might’ve had.

“Eddie, I really have to work.” You say with nothing but regret, feeling like cutting this short was a lousy attempt at escaping the situation, which was so far from what you wanted to do, but you couldn’t even process what was happening, not fully, at least. “We can talk later, if you want.”

“Uh, sure.” Eddie still sounds defeated, backing away slowly. He didn’t know what he was expecting, really. There was no way you would immediately fall head over heels, prepared with some sort of epic love confession. Still, he was disappointed with himself for not being able to express things differently.

You sigh, trying to find some way to reassure the poor boy standing before you. “We can shelf this,” You thought it was kinda cheesy, he did too. His smile is enough to make you feel a little bit better about cutting him off so quickly, “and you can call this number when you feel like talking to me.”

Reaching for the pen sitting on the clipboard on the table beside you, you scribble down a fury of numbers on a line of paper and shove it into his palm. You couldn’t do mixed signals, friends or not—if Eddie had something he wanted to say, you needed to hear it, he needed to hear himself say it. You needed it to be real.

“I’ll wait.”

As long as it would take.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A day passes, then two, three—nearly a week and Eddie still hasn’t bothered to call you, no matter how much time you spent sitting by the landline all evening, going so far as to study and eat dinner within arms reach of the phone, wondering why he still hadn’t called.

Maybe he had changed his mind, and that was fine, but it was still a kick in the ass—a reminder that you couldn’t let silly little crushes distract you like this. Eddie even avoided you in the hallway more often, taking a left toward his mandatory PE class, rather than taking the long way around to have a conversation with you. You felt ashamed, embarrassed that you had even allowed him to kiss you, it made you feel vulnerable.

After a week of silence and too many eerily quiet shifts at Family Video, enough is enough. And as luck would have it, you find him on a Friday night, digging through a discount bin at your dad’s record store—which, you should have known. But what was more astonishing, was how long he had managed to avoid you, here, of all places.

“We’re closing in ten, folks!” Your dad’s voice bellows through the place, warning the very few stragglers left that if they weren’t out within that time, it would be an issue. “Hiya, sweetheart.”

Eddie whips around at the speed of light, eyes landing on you immediately. You can’t help but look smug, arms crossed tightly over your chest. He tries to compose himself, turning back to the bin and continuing to browse through.

What an asshole, you think.

“Hey.” It’s simple, short, an easy way to start a conversation.

“Hi.” His voice doesn’t waver, but he sure as hell doesn’t look at you.

“If you’re not going to say anything, I will.” He’d done enough tiptoeing the past week, you just wanted an explanation.

He sighs, looking up at you slowly. “I know. I’m a dick for ignoring you.” He wasn’t wrong, you definitely felt it was a dick move that way he handled things. But, you hated holding grudges, especially against someone like Eddie, who you never hated to begin with.

“I get it, if you didn’t want to talk about what happened—it’s fine, but I still like talking to you, Eddie. You wouldn’t even look at me during lunch or any time I passed you in the halls—and don’t forget how late you are on returning that copy of ‘A New Hope’.” You point a feebly accusing finger in his direction, poking gently at his chest.

“I did.” He admits, “I gave it to Harrington and he handled it for me.”

Brows furrowed, your gaze ices over. “You went through me—to Steve?!” Now that, that stung. “You couldn’t even return a rental because I scared you off that much?”

“You didn’t scare me!”

You both freeze, not entirely sure where the outburst stunned from, luckily enough the store had emptied already. Still, that left a very clueless father of yours to watch the whole conversation unravel.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” He says, but it’s mostly directed at you. He slips the store keys into your hand. “Lock up and don’t stay out too late.”

You’ve never been more thankful for having such relaxed parents.

“You didn’t scare me.” Eddie repeats himself, more relaxed but still tense around the edges.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” You push. “Was kidding me really that horrible?”

“No—god, no. I have—I don’t really,” He takes a breath, hand steady out in front of himself between the space you two held, “I’ve never talk to people that I like—everyone thinks I’m this freak that worships that devil when all I really do is—“

“Play D&D with underclassmen and listen to metal rock at ungodly volumes from the inside of your van?” You ask, seemingly shutting him up. “Eddie, I know—the only people that believe that shit are the ones that can’t even look at themselves in the mirror and face who they are.”

You pull him toward the seating nook near the front of the store, forcing him down on the old leather couch shoved against the wall, allowing him the time he needs before he speaks again. You didn’t glance over his admission at liking you, but it was so painfully obvious that bringing it up again might do more harm than good, teasing him was the last thing you wanted to do. It was better to let him find the words he needed to express how he felt, that’s what you’d been waiting for—nearly a week now.

“I kissed you and it screwed everything up. I was so caught up in this idea of what I thought you were that when I realized who you actually were—I didn’t know how to respond, so I kissed you.”

“I do have interests, Eddie. I’m not some robot. They may not be what you expected, but the person I am at school, that’s not me. It’s what I want people to see—outside of school, I don’t have to force that image that I throw on. It’s just me.” You kept the two things on different sides of the universe, not that you weren’t ashamed of the fake act you put on around everyone, but it was the least complicated thing that somehow made sense in your mind.

You continue talking, Eddie forced to do nothing but listen. “I like Kate Bush and Journey—fuckin’ Metallica. My dad taught me how to play D&D when I was twelve for fucks sake. I love nerdy shit and maybe I’m ashamed to tell people that, but I’m sure as hell not afraid to like it.”

Eddie could’ve sworn his brain short-circuited at your admission, not that it was something groundbreaking, but it was something he had failed to notice on his own, how easily he overlooked you and believed in the show you put on for everyone else.

“I always thought you looked at me as some weird freak that annoyed you all the time.” He laughs quietly, fingers rubbing against the side of his rings absently.

“Annoyed me, yes.” You giggle softly, “Looked at you like you were some weird freak? Never. That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Well, now I just feel like an asshole.” Eddie admits, smirking ever so slightly. “I should’ve noticed.”

“That was the whole point, Eddie.” You tell him, thumping his forehead gently. He gasps, rubbing the spot dramatically, as if you actually did any damage. “You think I didn’t know what you were doing these past few months? Visiting me at work, purposely saving the seat behind me in class just so you could bother me for answers—you could’ve just talked to me, Eddie. The idea that you think that I think I’m too good for you—it hurts.”

“Everything is fucked up now.” He says, it being the only conclusion he could come to. There was no rectifying what he had ruined, not in his mind.

“It’s not,” you remind him, slowly standing from your seat to pull from the stack of records by the record player, the beginnings of some random pop-ish song you’ve never heard of filling the room, “and since you want to be so self-deprecating, I’m going to make you sit through this god awful song until you realize that not only do I not hate you—I would let you kiss me again, and again, and ag—“

Eddie grips your head firmly, hand cradling the back of your head, fingers all wound up in your hair. He’s got his mouth on you, this time completely unashamed, all him and no impulse. It’s a little sloppy, the way his mouth meets yours. You weren’t ready for it, but to say that your mouth wasn’t a perfect fit against his own, that was a blatant lie. You two fit together well, his lips slotting against yours perfectly. He smells like weed and pine and nature, it’s your favorite smell in the world now.

“And again, and again.” Eddie mocks against your lips when you two finally come up for air. He couldn’t tell you where the sudden act of boldness came from, his body working purely on feeling and adrenaline.

“We gotta stop doing this.” You say, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Kissing? Because I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to—“

“No, turning this record shop into our sacred make out spot.”

Eddie snorts at that, pulling back even more, head thrown back in a small fit of laughter. “I wouldn’t call that making out, would you?”

“You know what I mean.” You shove him lightly, nearly pushing him off you. But, he doesn’t let go.

Silence falls over you both, neither of you finding the words to break it. It didn’t feel wrong, crossing this line. Eddie wasn’t some forbidden fruit you couldn’t have a taste of—though he couldn’t say the same for you, but there were definitely some things that needed to be worked through.

“You’re not my boyfriend,” You tell him sternly and outright, “not yet. But, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to let you kiss me if you want to.”

“You’re not afraid of what people will say?” It’s the first genuine question that you can immediately answer, not an inkling of doubt behind it.

“I don’t give a shit what people think about who I associate myself with.” You reply honestly, eyes conveying an openness you only reserved for the people closest to you.

“Won’t it tank your reputation?” He laughs, fingers coming up to play with a stray piece of hair framing your face. “Can’t stay popular when you have a freak like me following you around.”

“Doubtful.” The students of Hawkins were so desperate for leadership, they would follow you without question. It was a gross thing to think about, but some people couldn’t be bothered to think for themselves and would rather have other people do it for them. “I think I scare a lot of people.”

Eddie nods, almost like he can relate. “You can be a little terrifying.”

“Good.” You say proudly, finally managing to separate yourself from Eddie, even if you really didn’t want to.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He kisses you that following Monday, square on the mouth, in front of not only his entire group of friends from Hellfire, but the entire senior class, including a few other underclassmen that lingered in the hallway for far too long. It’s puzzling at first, you’re confused, but you manage to fix your face quickly, smiling up at the boy standing in front of you.

“You really like drawing a crowd, Munson.” You tease, voice hushed so only he could hear.

“It’s a talent.” He remarks, gesturing wildly with his face, fingers pointed up to mimic devil horns, tongue stuck out for extra flair.

He was unapologetically himself and it was refreshing. You didn’t realize how hard everyone was staring until he’s left your side, and maybe you should feel ashamed, but the moment you attempt to lock eyes with any of them, they’re averting their eyes at the speed of light. Good—mind your damn business, you think.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He still pesters you at Family Video every other day, but not nearly as much as before. Fortunately for Steve, he was receiving most of the attention now—and even if he would never admit it, he was warming up to Eddie.

“He asked if I could sell him some weed.” Eddie tells you one day, unprovoked and out of the blue. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head in surprise.

“You know what, I don’t even wanna know.” You tell him, hands up in defense. “Just know, Steve has the tolerance of a mouse—beer, weed, whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh what, and little miss perfect’s never smoked a joint before?”

“Never.” You assure him. You weren’t one to judge, to each their own, but you never found any interest in actually trying it.

“And somehow you’ve got a crush on the one dude who smokes weed on a daily basis.” Eddie teases, finger jabbing your cheek softly. You can’t help but smile.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The first time Eddie invites you to his trailer is rather uneventful. You meet his uncle, briefly. He doesn’t seem like much of a talker, but he’s still pleasantly surprised to see his nephew talking to someone, no matter who they were.

You two end up eating silently, talking about random and obscure things that only made sense between the four walls you both existed in.

“Favorite D&D class—go.” Eddie shoots a finger gun your way, grape shoved halfway into your mouth.

“Easy, rogue.” Stealth & trickery, that one was built for you. “Your turn.”

“Bard.” He says after a careful moment of thinking. “I don’t think that really needs much explaining.” Eddie says, flashing the beautiful guitar that hung on his wall, his most prized possession. “Plus, I’m super fuckin’ charming.”

“That you are.” You whisper softly, leaning forward to pull him in for a kiss. It’s cut entirely too short by Eddie pulling away, shoving another bit of food into his own mouth.

“Eat first, kiss later.” He orders.

And it’s not against your own human nature when you only receive so much as a few kisses before you’re leaving that night, wondering if maybe you were pushing too hard.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

So, you dial things back. It was fine if Eddie was making an attempt at slowing things down on purpose—the problem was, you weren’t used to it. You blame that partially on the fact that you’ve never gotten involved in anything more than a quick hookup. It was a foreign concept.

But Eddie does seem to take notice that you’re trying to create more distance at his expense and that just won’t do. So he’ll slide his hand up the back of your shirt, over the curve of your ass, a gentle tug on your hair when he’s kissing the life out of you from the driver’s side of his van, parked in the makeshift driveway outside his trailer home.

But, it constantly leaves you wanting more. You want him to touch you everywhere, constantly thinking about how his hands would feel around your thighs, running up the plane of your breasts, around your neck—and maybe you can blame it on the late surge of teenage hormones running through your body at eighteen.

And when the words finally left your mouth a few weeks later, laid out underneath Eddie on his unmade bed, you weren’t really sure what to expect.

“Are you scared to have sex with me?” You ask, voice sounding entirely too small in this big room. “Did I do something wrong?”

He lifts his head from where it’s resting on your chest, “What?”

“Are you waiting until marriage? Because if you are—that’s fine, but I really didn’t see that coming from you—not that I’m judging, it’s a valid choice.” You spit out in one breath, trying to compensate for how shitty you felt after asking him that.

“I’m a virgin.” He blurts out at once.

“O-oh. Okay.” You say slowly, caught off-guard by the admission. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that—“

“I’ve made out with people before and done a few other things but,” He tells you, “I’ve just never..”

“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, sitting up in his bed to look at him clearly, “I feel like a total asshole now.”

“Believe me, I want to have sex with you.” He looks so damn earnest, his palm resting against your knee, thumb rubbing against the skin gently. “I just don’t want to disappoint—gotta live up to the reputation, you know?”

“You’ve never even come close?” You ask curiously. It seemed like a harmless enough question to ask.

“Yeah—a few times. I always cut things short, though. I’ve had people offer me sex and blowies in exchange for weed, but that just feels wrong on so many levels.”

You nod slowly, thoughtfully. “Well, I’m not gonna push you or anything. It doesn’t have to be some big, monumental thing we have to tiptoe around. We can just…figure it out as we go.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The next couple months are easy, creeping up toward Christmas, impatiently awaiting a much needed break from school, work—even life. You wanted to lock yourself in your room and sleep for a week straight. Between your constant work shifts, covering Steve for dates because you’re way too nice of a friend, and still making sure to spend time with Eddie, you were worn out. Not that Eddie was a chore, but it felt like you couldn’t give him your full, undivided attention when your mind was constantly thinking of your schedule for the next day.

When you finally do manage to reward yourself with a few glorious days off, you spend them locked up in your room, just as you intended.

Tap. Tap. It was nearly eleven at night, who in the hell could possible be—

Eddie’s head pops into view, clearly struggling to keep himself upright. You scramble to the window, opening it up to pull him inside.

“Are you insane?” You ask, helping him step over the threshold without face planting on to the carpet. “My parents are asleep downstairs—if they find you up here this late, I’m dead. Dead, Eddie.”

“I’ll be quiet.” He smiles, fingers crossed over his heart in a way that told you he meant it.

“What did you want?” You ask, not really trying to sound like an asshole, but your exhaustion is making it seem that way.

“Wanted to see you.” He shrugs, plopping himself down on your bed. He’s holding his hands out too, hoping you would follow suit.

He nearly manhandles you over his lap, letting you rest against his thighs. “What’s gotten into you?” You ask, hands resting against his lower abdomen where his shirt had ridden up. “Is this a late night booty call?”

“A what—“ He looks genuinely confused, “nevermind.”

“Oh, so you just missed me?” You tease, hands crawling up the expanse of his chest, you reach forward to kiss teasingly against the bit of his chest that was exposed from his top, right above his tattoo. “That’s cute.”

“I had an idea.” Oh no, you think. It was either going to be something completely outlandish or—who the fuck were you kidding? This was Eddie. “Since you’ve been so stressed lately.”

“Yeah?” You reply eagerly, ready for any type of distraction to help take your mind off of everything.

“Let me go down on you.” And if there was a list of things that you never expected to hear Eddie Munson say, that was nearing the top.

“Eddie Munson.” You respond, sounding scandalized.

“Don’t tell me you’re turning down an orgasm.” He responds cockily, almost full of himself.

“I thought you said you-“

“I’m not that clueless, princess.” Well then. “Now, lay down.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Definitely not clueless. Not in the slightest of ways.

Eddie’s mouth his way down the inside of your thigh, biting and licking at your skin in a way that has you squirming desperately.

“No fingers.” He tells you.

You nod. At a loss of words for the first time in your life.

“Just my mouth.” He says around a particularly sensitive spot, sucking lightly. “That’s all I need.”

He sounds entirely too sure of himself.

“We can make a deal, if you’re that confident.” You challenge, head craning down to look at him from in between your legs. He gives you a look that signals for you to keep talking, not bothering to stop the desperate attack on your skin that was surely going to leave marks the next morning.

“You make me come—I’ll blow you.” You say breathlessly, squirming again as the heat from his breath hits your bare cunt. “Deal?”

“Fuck yeah.”

He starts gentle, easy, separating your folds with his tongue and teasing at your clit. You sigh, admiring the sight of Eddie’s head tucked between your legs, face buried into the apex of your thighs. It seemed like a bold statement at first, the idea of Eddie making you come with nothing but his mouth—but you realize your own feeble mistake. Eddie turned you on enough that he didn’t need to use fingers, you could come with just his mouth—hell, just the sight of him between your legs had your thighs clenching around his head, caging him in place.

The hand that isn’t resting against your stomach pulls against the inside of your thigh, forcing your legs open wider, and wider. He’s practically drinking you in now, switching between licking and sucking at your sensitive clit in intervals that had your body arching in pleasure and agony—agony at the fact that this couldn’t continue on forever.

“You’re such a liar.” You force out through clenched teeth, his chuckle is apparent as it vibrates against your cunt, sending you reeling.

“Just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I can’t compensate in other areas.” And then he’s back to work.

“Oh, oh fuck.” You’re desperately trying to keep your voice down, the only solution being for you to cover your mouth with your hand, muffling the moans that Eddie was pulling out of you. “This is cruel.”

“You’re really wet.” He observes, pulling back to allow you both a breather, “It’s all over your sheets.”

“Shit happens—I’ll wash them later—just keep going, please.” You rush out, using your hands to physically direct him back to your cunt, his nose brushing up against your clit as his tongue dipped inside of you.

You were passed caring at this point, desperate for the orgasm that was building in your lower abdomen. You’ve got the sheets in a knuckle white grip, gasping at every lick and nudge he made against your sensitive and swollen clit, face burning with the heat of how close you were, flushed a deep red.

“Gonna come, Eddie.” You warn, which only encourages him further. And god, the mouth on him. He’s licking desperately at your cunt, your juices and his spit mixing together to create a glorious slippery mess that created the perfect amount of friction.

And he feels it coming, the way your fingers grip the hair at the base of his head, he reaches up to cover your mouth, you clasp your own hand over his—and finally, you let go.

“Christ.” You say on an exhale, dizzy from what had to be the single most hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt. “Get the fuck up here, Eddie.”

“And just like that,” He snaps, “stress free.” His face is wet still, covered in you, and you can’t help but laugh. “What, something on my face?” You reach up and grab the collar of his shirt to wipe away the mess from his mouth.

“All good.” You assure him, patting his chest gently. It takes a while for you to finally gain your bearings, but eventually you do. “And like I said—a deal is a deal.” You turn to look at him, enjoying the way he’s spread out on your bed, smug and jovial. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

He nods, “With a gorgeous someone like you asking to suck my dick? Absolutely.”

Eddie sure had a way with words.

“Here, turn this way.” You tell him, tapping his thigh softly so he’d move.

“Why can’t I—“ You drop to your knees on the soft carpet of your floor, fitting perfectly between his legs. “Oh.”

You unbuckle his belt, fumbling a little with the loops, so you forgo trying to take the whole thing off and just focus on being able to unbutton his pants. He pushes them down, letting them pool around his ankles.

Eddie doesn't really know where to put his hands, first his thighs, then the sheets and back again. “Do I just—“

You place his hands on either side of him, wrapped around the edge of the mattress and—Jesus, was that more a turn on than having his head between your thighs, his rings shining prominently against the pale skin of his fingers.

“Just keep them there and flow with whatever works, Eddie. You tell me what feels good.” He nods softly.

He’s hard already, reeling off the high of going down on you, so instead of trying to tease him any longer—which you weren’t sure he could handle, you peel his underwear down, enough to where it drops on its own and you can finally admire his dick in full view, completely bare.

You didn’t realize you had your bottom lip pulled underneath your top row of teeth until Eddie was rubbing gently at your chin, staring down at you with gentle, loving eyes. It’s so sickeningly sweet that you want to burst into tears.

“No fingers?” You tease. “Just my mouth?”

“I think we can make an exception in this case.”

You waste no time in wrapping your hand around his shaft, Eddie swallowing audibly from above you. Still in one piece, that was good. You move slowly, a few long, languid strokes of his dick until you’re peering up at him asking, “Is this good?”

Contrary to whatever Eddie might be thinking, you’ve never actually had anyone’s anything in your mouth. Handjobs were easy, quick—but you’d never gone so far as to give a blowjob to any guy you’ve ever hooked up with. This was all new territory for you.

“Here.” Eddie has a firm grip around your hand, pushing you to squeeze a little tight, tug faster, enough to build a steady pace of both pressure and friction. “Shit—like that. That’s good.”

He sighs shakily, leaning more into the weight of his arm, praying to whatever god out there that it was enough to keep him upright.

You lean forward to lick at the tip carefully, he’s quiet and methodical, like he’s trying to focus on something. His eyes are shut right, hands now balled into fists.

Another lick this time, from the base of his dick to the tip before you’re swallowing him down, using your hands to follow what your mouth couldn’t. Unfortunately for you, gag reflexes were definitely still a thing and you weren’t going to force what wouldn’t fit—and there was a lot of Eddie that wasn’t going to fit. He was, without a doubt, bigger than any other person you’d been with—not so comical that it didn’t seem real, but it was more than enough.

“Fuck, this is gonna over way to quick.” He groans, “Slow-slow down.”

“Hands in my hair.” You tell him, guiding a hand toward the back of your head, he obeys easily, fingers twisted into the hair at the base of your neck. “Control the pace, I’ll follow.”

“You’re not real.” He breathes out in disbelief, rewarding him by swirling your tongue around the tip of his dick before your lips wrap around it, sucking lightly.

He moans louder than you initially expected, both of you pulling back in shock, your hand immediately darting toward his mouth.

“Don’t think I won’t shove something in your mouth if you want to keep that up.” You warned halfheartedly, but you were definitely more serious than playful.

“I can’t make any promises, sweetheart.” Well, you appreciated the honesty.

You suck him down again, as fully as possible, keeping a steady rhythm around his dick. He’s holding himself together better, but he’s still pretty noisy regardless. You reach aimlessly for something, anything, to shove in his mouth.

“Back pocket of my jeans,” He says, practically whining, “the—fuck, just grab it, you know what I’m talking about.”

You quickly yank at the black handkerchief in the pocket of his jeans, shoving it quickly into his mouth on the uptick of another groan, muffled perfectly by the fabric.

He bucks his hips on a particular downward motion of your mouth, the back of his dick hitting your throat and nearly causing you to gag, but you recover, bringing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eddie can’t even focus on his own thoughts at this point, he sounds insufferable. He’s gone from upright to sprawled across your sheets, gasping underneath the confines of the cloth.

“Gonna come,” Eddie forces out, quickly unstuffing his mouth, patting your shoulder gently as a warning, “you gotta pull off.”

You do and just in time for Eddie to spill over his stomach, his shirt having thankfully ridden up enough in his constant squirming that it narrowly managed to miss it. He’s clearly forcing himself to keep quiet, feeling himself coming down from the most mind blowing orgasm he’s ever received by another person. You try not to sit too long on the fact that no one has ever seen him the way you have, so blown out from an orgasm that you caused.

Eddie slowly pulls his underwear and jeans back over his hips, leaving them unbuttoned as he falls back on your bed, dragging you down with him.

“You really are the gift that keeps on giving.” He jokes, rubbing your back gently, hands finding their way underneath the fabric of your shirt, barely finger tipping past the point of your ass, playing absently with the hem of your underwear.

“And this gift needs some sleep.” You tell him.

And so what if you both ended up cuddled underneath the covers in your bedroom that night, neither of you bothering to ruin this tiny bit of bliss you had created. Eddie still managed to sneak out that morning without any evidence that he had ever been there.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Eddie can’t stop touching you since the night you two shared over the weekend, always finding any reason to have a hand on you—against your back, resting against the soft dip in your waist, or just dealing his arm around your shoulder in an effort to pull you closer.

“You sure you wanna try?” He asks, holding the joint in front of your face, waiting for you to grab it. “You really don’t have to.”

You wanted to, even if it was only this once. You had to live through the hype that everyone was talking about, even if you decided to never touch it after this moment, ever again.

“For the tenth time—yes.” You laugh, snatching the joint from his fingers and pulling it toward your lips. You remember what Eddie told you. Breathe in, not too deep, hold, then out through your nose.

But, you fuck up on the second step, taking in a little too much, lungs burning from the smoke you inhaled. You lean over, feeling like you’re going to cough yourself into a miserable death on the floor of Eddie’s trailer.

“We’ll work on it.” Eddie assures you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

It was the first and last time you ever touched a joint.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Christmas comes and goes, a flurry of family visits and gift giving to all of your friends, leading up to dinner at Eddie’s trailer the evening of the day after, enjoying a small dinner with himself and his uncle. There’s some small talk, but most of the dinner is spent with you watching the two of them debate over some band you aren’t even sure you’ve ever heard of.

“Thank you.” Eddie tells you when he’s finally parked in front of your house, rubbing the backside of your hand with his thumb, fingers curling around your palm. You squeeze his hand in return.

“It was nice.” You admit. “My family is really loud, so it was a lot more enjoyable than you’d think.”

He chuckles softly, not wanting to let go of your hand, and not really wanting to say goodbye, either. You check the driveway, reminding yourself that your parents had left for another party a few towns over, a family friend.

“Hey, why don’t you stay for a bit?” You suggest, nodding in the direction of your house. “My parents won’t be home until midnight, I’m guessing–so maybe I can finally give you a grand tour without my parents asking you a million questions.” And ask they would, which is exactly why he hadn’t officially met them yet. Plus, he hadn’t officially asked you to be his girlfriend in any sense of the word–so it didn’t feel right either way.

Eddie doesn’t even so much as hesitate, hopping out of his car to follow you to the front door. The house is a decent size–a few bedrooms and a couple bathrooms, kitchen, all the normal things you would expect from a house in the suburbs.

You both collapse on your bed the moment you enter your room, both exhausted and full from the ridiculous amount of food you consumed over dinner.

Eddie finds out that you talk in your sleep that night–which should be considered singing, but your voice is so off-key that not even he can sugarcoat it. He doesn’t say anything, though. He listens to you jam out into the quiet ambiance of your room, ceiling fan buzzing from above.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Let’s have sex.” Eddie interjects bluntly, causing you to choke on the giant swig of water you had just attempted to swallow. It was New Years Eve and you both had planned to spend it together, even if you didn’t really have anything fun to do—spending time with Eddie was always eventful—case in point.

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, “Okay.” You never bothered to push Eddie on the topic, letting him come to that decision when he felt like it. Plus, his courage has probably been boosted from all the orgasms he’s given you, not that you were complaining—Eddie gave amazing head.

It doesn’t take much more coaxing to get you into his bed, naked from the waist up, Eddie’s mouth focused on nothing but the soft, plush valley of your breasts. He squeezed the one that wasn’t occupied by his mouth gently, tongue swirling around the bud of your nipple.It felt good, amazing, but you were way too horny to focus on the feeling of Eddie's mouth against your tits for this long.

“This is probably a terrible time to bring this up—“ He begins, but you silence him, tearing his mouth away from your tender breast and up to your mouth.

“Whatever it is, it can wait.” You laugh softly. Eddie’s looking up at you, his hair a wild mess. He looks innocent and naive, with no idea what he was getting himself into. “Do you have condoms?”

Bareback was a hard no—no matter who it was. Although, the idea of tiny little Eddie’s running around was adorable, just not enough to sacrifice everything you learned in Sex Ed. He nods eagerly, reaching over you to grab a thin box from the top of his bedside table. He shakes it, box still unopened.

“How long have you had those?” You ask, almost certain you’d never seen any in his place before.

“A few weeks.” He shrugs, pulling one of the small tin foil squares out of the box and tossing it on the floor. “Wasn’t sure when I should bring it up, you know?”

Like you wouldn’t jump his bones the second he asked, regardless if it had been two days ago or two weeks. You had waited patiently for Eddie to come to the decision on his own, and that’s all you could do. It wasn’t something you two always tiptoed around, you didn’t treat it like he had some ailment that kept him from pleasing you otherwise, it was just one step you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“Have you been planning this, Munson?” You tease, fingers dragging down his chest slowly, stopping just at the edge of his belt, your fingers curling around it.

“You can’t prove anything.” He replies, shoving his face into the crook of your neck to bite teasingly at the skin there. You yelp, squirming in the way it sends shivers down your spine.

“Beautiful, charming, and chivalrous—what did I do to deserve you?” You ask, a smile gracing your face. “Not to mention how downright dirty that mouth is.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.” His voice low and teasing, coming up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, all tongue and eager enthusiasm.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Part of you was glad that the shyness between you both was long gone, having seen each other in enough intimate ways that now—it was normal. It took a lot of the edge off for Eddie, who seemed more and more relaxed as the night drew on. You’d both forgone clothing very early on, relishing in the sight of being able to see Eddie completely bare—tattoo and toned muscle on full display.

He’s pretty insistent about going down on you despite how you insisted he didn’t have to, but it was Eddie—always wanting to give more than he took.

“Just like that.” You sigh softly, hips hovering over his mouth, your cunt making a mess all over his face. “Fuck—don’t stop.”

His tongue works quickly, rubbing over the sensitive nub of your swollen clit, his hands coming behind you to pull you further against his face. He’s practically groaning underneath you, hips bucking up into nothing—you’re ready to put him out of his misery, but the crashing feeling of your orgasm creeps up on you out of nowhere, cunt riding it out against his face, which he ravished greedily.

He’s very adamant about not having you return the favor. “There’s no way I’ll last through you doing that and being inside you without blowing my load, at least once. And truthfully, I’d like this to last a little longer than thirty seconds.”

He’s painfully honest and it’s adorable.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He sighs, brows furrowed slightly.

“You want me on top?” You ask softly, hovering over his bare thighs.

“Are you actually asking me that?” He laughs, a little dumbfounded. He’s right, stupid question.

You grab his hand, guiding it toward your sensitive pussy, allowing him to dip a single digit inside of you. He breathes in sharply, his fingers barely moving. He wasn’t even inside you and he already looked like he could fall apart.

Eddie notices the way your eyes fall shut, basking in the feeling of being filled up, even if it wasn’t by him—not really. He’s slow, precise, curling his finger ever so often until you’re rocking against his own hand, then he’s adding another. “More.” You say, he listens one obediently, squeezing another finger into you, working steadily inside of you now. The stretch felt amazing, but it was still lacking what you needed. You reach between you both, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, pulling gently.

He’s quiet, eyes closed. You pull again, rubbing your thumb over the tip, spreading the small amount of precome that had leaked out. “Fuck, I wanna be inside you.” Eddie moans, mouth hung open slightly.

You decide to finally put him out of his misery.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Eddie’s silent as he slips on the condom, his tongue sticking out past his lips from focusing too hard. “Okay, I think we’re good.” He says finally, looking up at you. He squeezes at the side of your waist, pulling you over him.

You guide him inside of you, sinking down into him slowly. It had been far too long since you had been with anyone, the stretch making you wince slightly—it didn’t help that Eddie was a lot larger than what you were typically used to.

Eddie lets out a plethora of soft, random noises—watching intently as your cunt swallows him before finally it can’t take anymore, now pressed fully against one another.

“Move. Just move.” He urges you, hands gripping your waist tightly, you being the only thing anchoring him to reality.

You do, slowly, rocking against him until he’s finally able to focus—“You okay?” You say softly, and the look he gives is something you will never be able to get out of your mind—bottom lip sucked between his teeth, eyes locked on the place where you were both joined together, before glancing up to look at you. He nods jerkily, “Wanna switch?” You ask, giving him the chance to control the pace.

“Please—I already feel like I’m gonna come quickly, but having you on top is just—“ He didn’t feel the need to elaborate.

He flips you over easily, manhandling you against his sheets. Your hips rested high up onto his hips, his forearms barricading your head. He’s moving slowly, too slowly, a short thrust of his hips every couple seconds. Eddie wasn’t going to last long and you knew it.

“Hey, it’s fine.” You reassure him, “Stop thinking.”

“Okay,” He nods, moving his hips faster, “I’m not going to last long, I’m sorry.”

“Eddie,” You grab his chin, pulling attention toward your face, “stop apologizing and fuck me.”

And it’s all he needs to hear.

His mouth latches into the dip of your collarbone, sucking lightly, snapping his hips at a pace that had you moaning out in pleasure. “Feels so good, Eddie.” He bites at the skin of your shoulder and it really shouldn’t turn you on as much as it should. “Again,” you encourage him, “do that again.”

His teeth trail against the skin of your neck, up under your chin, before suck your bottom lip into his mouth, teeth digging in gently. “Say my name.” He breathes against your open mouth.

“Eddie.” You sigh, voice squeaking on a particularly hard snap of his hips. He moans outwardly, loud and strangled. Eddie could feel himself falling apart.

“Fuck—I can’t. I’m gonna come.” He groans out, grunting at the feeling of you squeezing down against his dick.

“It’s okay.” You shake your head, letting him bury his into your neck, his sounds muffled into the sheets.

Eddie’s loud when he comes, hands gripping your thighs so hard that you were definitely going to leave bruises, but you didn’t mind. “Fuck!” He shouts, riding himself through his orgasm before he’s collapsing on top of you. “Holy shit.”

“Well, that’s one way to ring in the New Year.” You comment, hand reaching to wipe that hair out of his face where it had been stuck with sweat. He huffs into your cheek, nose squished against your face. Eddie kisses your cheek, your nose, before capturing your mouth. He pulls out slowly, tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash bin beside his bed before returning back to his original position on top of you,

“Inside of my girlfriend?” He asks, pulling back to look at you. The word slips out accidentally.

“Girlfriend?” You ask, eyebrow raised in question.

“Well, that’s what I was trying to ask you early—but someone was just too horny they couldn’t wait for me to ask. I guess I probably shouldn’t assume you would say yes but—“

“Ask me again.” You tell him, finger coming up to trace his bottom lip. He smiles widely, biting the finger in retaliation.

“Fine.” He kisses the side of your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Hmm.” You start, “Well-“

“Oh, no way—“ You immediately clasp your hand over his mouth.

“Yes.” You tell him, eyes boring into his own. “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

[chiyoso]

“breaking the 4th wall”

h. star rail : jing yuan.

▶CONTENT. insomnia, self conscious doubt, comfort, self aware au, something personal for those who have trouble with loneliness, insomnia and exhaustion, jing yuan is self aware!

▶NOTE. im tired and its 3am, but jing yuan exists so have this comfort fic. also @ainescribe gift for your hardworking ass, ily aine feel better.

Your eyelids grew heavy, laid against the arm rest of the warm sofa, scrolling and tapping away at your phone for anything, any eventful thing that can spark a motivation, an inspiration to you.

It's eating you away. Death scrolling, letting the blue light affect your sleep instead of earning a sleep that your body desperately needs for tomorrow.

Yet, your fingers can't seem to stop moving, as if it had a mind on its own, causing further subconscious guilt and shame, a knowing voice gnawing and belittling behind your state of self, commenting on your disheveled, tired appearance, bags underneath your eyes, your flesh warning you of your stress and lack of self care that you couldn't find the time to do anymore. Shit, and the studying you have to do tomorrow.

All that, but your fingers never leave the glass screen.

3:25 AM Sun, Aug 6 ᯤ [▂] 22%

[Honkai: Star Rail] · PomPom: [Username]! Your trailblaz···

[Tumblr] · 16 new notes · [Your blog] ···

[Tumblr] · hiraethsdesires just posted a post...

[Weather] · 28° in [Place] Feels like 33° · Mostly Cloudy · S...

[Honkai Impact 3rd] · Captain! Your energy has replenishe...

⊗

“Finally.” You said, tapping the first notification.

You sighed, the notif reminding you of your shitty sleep schedule. It had originally updated you at the early mornings, gradually turning into afternoons, then the evening... night... and...

You were brought back to reality from the sound of the lobby theme, the Astral Express, traveling in your sight, wishing you would be reincarnated into such a life, meeting the ones who made this horrible, tedious lifespan bearable.

Once you hit tap, you were greeted with a loading screen that had Jing Yuan's fact along the bottom, earning a faint smile from you as the image of his splash art pops up in your mind.

Jing Yuan: The Divine Foresight, one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance, leads the Cloud Knights of the Xianzhou Luofu. A student of the Luofu's previous Sword Champion, though not known for his martial prowess.

You were greeted by the sight of Jing Yuan's pixels as always, greeting him bubbly and warmly as you spin him around to face you, zooming into his features, especially admiring his beauty mark under his eye.

“Pretty, so damn pretty,” You hum, moving onto other features, before resuming, checking your daily tasks.

Now what were you doing at this time of night?

You wouldn't know, you will never know, but he will always appreciate the way you greet him every day, but this day—being the observant, Arbiter General that he is, he notices your slurred, tired voice, but still coated with affection that he enjoyed quite a lot. He didn't quite like the bags underneath your pretty eyes that he will take glances of every chance he can get. He didn't like how you were feigning ignorance to your bodily needs, on how you were sacrificing sleep to play.

You led him to the cavern of corrosion; Path of the Holy Hymm once again, endlessly grinding the perfect relics for your main dps, wasting all your trailblaze powder for him. Bronya, Tingyun and Luocha snickered to themselves on how much you spoil the Arbiter General, on how much you baby him lovingly despite his commanding, superior status as the Xianzhou Luofu's face, causing his cheeks to grow hot in result of your affectionate words whenever you go to the character screen, setting and upgrading his relics.

“So strong my general...” His breath got caught to his throat upon hearing you, his blush deepening from the sudden suggestive tone in your voice.

The character screen was filled with the various people that you earned, and they were giggling and smirking slyly to your gestures, making his arms full of materials from the endless grind you did, all for him—a bonus as well, he didn't feel any shred of guilt as you do the same towards the others, but he was just your very, very favorite, and he knew all about it from your vocal prowess.

He would find your curses endearing when you get a shitty relic, but he would soon then join your annoyance as this body relic had stats befitting for a damn healer, might as well give it to Bailu since she's the same element, and fortunately a healer. (In which case you did.)

...

You worried him. Once you were done with your tasks and finishing off your remaining trailblaze powder, your eyelids threatened to shut, giving the Arbiter General a feeling that he hadn't felt in awhile, a certain dread, and a strong one at that towards the player who felt strongly about him.

Your consciousness was drifting, your lids weighing down, but the unthinkable happened.

On the top left corner under the map, a red exclamation mark appears on the chat logo, your tired eyes noticing the sudden mark, giving you a burst of little energy.

You blinked a few times, rubbing your lids gently before landing your irises upon the message again.

Was this a new message update?

A new trailblaze mission?

An event leak? Hoyoverse tease...?

You shook your head, regaining focus to check the patch notes in the game, seemingly finding nothing about any update, but your search doesn't stop there, you looked through the official website, hoyolabs, tumblr, youtube, heck even reddit—but none have mentioned a message regarding to this.

Deciding to remain quiet about this ordeal, you went back to the game to find another message, and another, his restlessness growing evident as the moonlight continues to dawn over your world.

3:38 AM Sun, Aug 6 ᯤ [▂] 19%

[Honkai: Star Rail] · 2 new messages from ▉▉▉▉ ▉▉▉▉ ···

[Tumblr] · hiraethsdesires just posted a post...

[Weather] · 28° in [Place] Feels like 33° · Mostly Cloudy · S...

[Honkai Impact 3rd] · Captain! Your energy has replenishe...

⊗

What- What the fuck?

Your throat lumped to the sight of the first notification, its whole box felt out of place from the others, yet you found your thumb nearing the glass towards the notif, accompanied with your growing blush and curiousity.

You were then met with the Hoyoverse screen once again, assessing the situation you were in as you stare into the blackness of the screen.

Was I... Imagining things? Surely not.

Fuck — I'll just... sleep all day tomorro—

...?

You were met with a slightly glitchy screen of the normal sequence of Jing Yuan's back, but he was... already in his phone. The sprite of his pixels, typing away, seeing the red exclamation mark on top of the speech bubble under the map, earning him a slight breathy inhale from you.

You click the link, losing your shit at the messages that fell before your eyes.

“Ha?”

“What the fuck? I-”

I've lost it.

Oh.

I haven't lost it?

You find yourself staring in silence, re-reading repeatedly the words that only instilled a slight fear yet wonder that was visible on your reddening face.

“But I-... How?” You spoke gently, softly. Something the General wished to hear again, and on cue, his sprite in the game chuckled, as if he was truly listening to you.

'I am only fiction to you' it rings through your head, aching your heart slightly.

You were about to speak, but another message popped up, leaving your body with disappointment and longing, gripping your phone as your eyes gloss over the phenomenon.

“W- Wait! Ji-... Jing Yu...”

You gulp down a lump, bringing your phone closer to your face, your eyes glistening, your whole senses overwhelmed with intensifying longing, warmth — yet accompanied with a growing heartache from the fleeting interaction and him excusing himself abruptly in this otherworldly situation.

...Wait.

Everythi—?

“General...” You muttered out softly, your reddening face from the embarrassing memories that flooded you, his words greatly reminding you of the times where you acted with full on eccentricity, degenerative behavior, lustful tendencies and so on. It made you wonder if other characters such as Blade, Welt — or perhaps even the Aeons heard and witnessed you all this time. It made you shiver with embaunable feelings of humiliation and continuous embarassment, making you unable to think clearly, and the way you threw away your phone onto the couch lightly to cover your heated face? Still being witnessed by the General, and a few other silent spectators of course.

Jing Yuan couldn't believe this situation as well.

This was somehow the work of Silverwolf, a wanted enemy of the Xianzhou, Destiny's Slave, but he felt the most warmth and joy since being summoned by you — no, especially this unforseen interaction with the mortal whose been taking care of everything in the universe within your phone, for taking great care of the Xianzhou especially.

... An endearing mortal at that.

The General and the rest of the game couldn't see as you apparently let go of your device, but your wails and silent squeals were still audible, as the General comes to a conclusion that you perhaps needed to calm down, but in reality, he quite enjoyed this spectacle of yours, even by only listening — in which he was once again very greatful for his grand, and sensitive sense of hearing as he listens to you.

After another, final deep breath, your hand reaches to your phone again, before beginning to press your fingers onto your screen in a frantic haze, but the joystick button was... unresponsive, as well as the others—except for the message button in this moment.

BZZT

Another messaged popped up, quickening your heartrate immediately.

“WH—” Your heart only fluttered and dropped at the same time.

He can do that?

It's... It's probably a bluff.

...

He's the Arbiter General, who am I kidding.

With a warm sigh of content, you find yourself smiling at your phone, hugging it onto your chest with the game still open unknowingly.

“...I love you all. You are all my calm and peace.”

You said quietly, sniffling and accompanied with sounds of your light breathing, drifting off your exhaustions away to fulfill your body's needs.

Finally in your slumber, your phone switches off within a few minutes, thus the floating screen on their end disappears, earning a content sigh from the General as he makes his way towards his office in the Exalting Sanctum, each step felt heavy without your sight now that you were aware he can — or his world can access yours in this small, yet impactful way, but his form grows with confidence, determination setting in his soul as his sights land upon the Cloud Knight whom guarded the way to his office.

Jing Yuan sought out to Welt Yang and Silverwolf immediately in secret after his satisfying interactions with you, informing them of what happened in full detail (though he left out the parts where you cosplayed a squealing tomato, sparing you from further humiliation) and the whole ordeal as it was successful. His subtle praises earned him multiple cheeky and cocky remarks from the criminal hacker, along with a few teasing about him being smitten by you (and to Welt as well), but what can he really do to retaliate back? She was a main source of intelligence and control who provided a connection to you in the first place.

Inevitable, but he was willing to cooperate either way, all for this world, for the Xianzhou — for you.

The three continue to dive into their conversations, planning on how he or others who are interested, can continue to interact with you further more without raising suspicion from their creators upon breaking a few bits of code and data. It was no doubt in mind risky, that was apparent, but so was their endearment and affection towards their human, their player.

In all honesty, Welt and Silverwolf also found themselves wanting to interact with you as well from Jing Yuan's stories of the first ever interaction you had to their world, but of course, if they did it consecutively, it would most definitely be noticable if a few more characters began to act on their own accord, threatening the programmed codes as numbers shift and modify suspiciously.

Though unfortunately, only resorting to using the message system for now, but Silverwolf was confident with her abilities, making use of the way she was made, using the descriptions laid for her against her own creators.

After all, Hoyoverse made her annoyingly cunning, intelligent and skilled. A mistake on their part, or rather, an intended choice of character building for players like us to create, indulge and enjoy? We'll never know.

Unless Hoyoverse put out a stream that specifies the matter, until then Silverwolf remains focused and unyielding to her program, heeding Jing Yuan's call if need be and taking Welt Yang's advices about his own knowledge when it came to multiverses and other worlds from his prior experiences. All this planning, the risk, the longing for more interactions with you — it was a motivation to the three, as well as for the others that greatly wished to converse with you.

An aloof and lazy, the general he may be, but he's a living legacy of dreams and determination for a reason.

A wielder of a great glaive with materials dropped from the remants of the Reignbow Arbiter's Lux Arrow — and tonight, as you slept peacefully, this felt like a moment of miracle once again, the fleeting moment of grace that made their world reach a state of serenity, all from the possibility of having to finally, finally interact with you.

reblogs help my audience reach, thank you.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #4748:

Being a victim does not make you free from criticism.

I won't name names here, but this has been beginning to bug me. Basically, there's a youtuber I used to follow when I was younger (Let's call them "Barry"), but I stopped watching them a long time ago due to losing interest in their kind of content and for other reasons I'll get into in a bit. However, Barry caught my attention again recently by calling out a group of people who severely bullied them years ago. And though I can fully acknowledge that what they went through was shitty, and the offending parties deserve any and all criticism that comes their way...howeevvverrr Barry isn't exactly the most innocent person either. And I hate the fact that people are going out of their way to kiss Barry's feet just because they're technically a victim.

The reason why I stop watching Barry's content is because i kind of realized they're… Kind of an asshole?

- Barry will often make fun of those who can't take criticism, yet can't seem to take criticism themselves by making condescending remarks towards the critic, or just flat out ignore it.

- Barry openly defended other youtubers who said and did really shitty things. Like one dude who falsely accused a person of being a p#dophile with 0 evidence, another person who bullied someone else off Twitter, and someone else who encouraged the harassment of a small-time artist just because "something something, they're art iz filled wiff da cwingiez"

- Barry themselves also said/did some (for lack of better words) shady things in the past, too. And it's not limited to just defending shitty people, either. Saying things like women owe their male benefactors sexual favors, constantly sticks their nose in other people's business' where it doesn't belong (I.E making videos on topics and people that are NONE of their business), and will frequently throw their friends under the bus if they're the ones being called out for something they got wrong in their videos. On top of that, they also delete older videos that might make themselves look bad.

So what's the point of me explaining all this? Well, after Barry made their video exposing the previously mentioned bullies, people are suddenly acting like they can do no wrong and that they're just an innocent little baby angel who can't be criticized again forever and evers. <3<3

TO HELL WITH THAT! Just because certain people have been mistreated in the past doesn't mean we should sweep anything they did wrong under the rug. I was bullied when I was a kid too, but that doesn't give me the right to act like a dickhead, does it? It's funny Barry called out the bullies for making excuses for their own poor behavior, but now others are doing the exact same thing on Barry's behalf. It's not just them either, I've seen the same thing happen to people like politicians and celebrities as well. It's insane, as it is hypocritical.

- TL;DR: being a victim of something bad is not an instant "get out of jail" free card. I really wish more people knew that.

[porcelainseashore]

Ghosts from the Past (2)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: This chapter is a lot more dialogue-heavy to set up the scenes for the next ones. It was originally going to be angstier, but my heart wouldn’t let me. Oops. I hope you still like it though.

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Baptism

Outside the embassy, Leon hailed for a cab to get to the bar. The journey there was in complete awkward silence, except for the occasional question raised by the cab driver, who quizzed you on why you were headed to such an unsavory place. Somehow he could tell that Leon didn’t quite belong and cautioned about certain areas being unsafe for tourists. Leon just snorted in response, while you laughed inwardly at the irony of his cover story, where he was meant to be your American tourist friend embarking on a Eurotrip.

To be honest, it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be. Berlin was a smaller city and felt safer than New York. However, you still carried around that Swiss Army knife Leon had won and given to you back in the day wherever you went, just in case. You ran the tip of your finger along its metallic surface in your pocket. The world could be cruel to little girls after all.

As you exited from the cab, you were greeted by a lively, eclectic neighborhood, sprinkled with night markets, kebab and shisha shops, independent art spaces and late night bars. The buildings were noticeably more rundown than Mitte, the district you had traveled from, and the community a lot edgier. With both of you now dressed casually, you had no problem blending into the midnight crowd.

You swung open the doors of an unmarked establishment and found yourselves shrouded in thick wafts of cigarette smoke upon entering. Leon frowned, coughing as he swatted the air in front of him. Even though you were used to smoking being allowed pretty much everywhere in Germany, your eyes still watered as you pressed up against and squeezed past the mass of bodies in the dimly-lit, dingy bar. The smell on your clothes and hair would take days to get rid of later. It was noisy and chaotic, with nearly every inch of the space occupied by chatty, drunk customers, some more boisterous than the others. You were lucky to find a small, rickety table with two precarious-looking stools at the extreme corner of the room.

Setting your coat and day bag down on one of the stools to claim it, you folded your arms, turned to Leon and remarked, “So… an agent, huh?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whiskey first. Then, we’ll talk.”

You rolled your eyes at his standoffish reply, wondering what his problem was. After all these years where he had led you to assume he was dead, and with the circumstances both of you had found each other in, this was the kind of attitude he took with you? A prickling feeling of agitation grew in your chest as you pushed past him, storming towards the bar in annoyance.

Upon approaching it, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you saw that you knew the bartender who was on shift tonight. He usually popped a little extra into your drinks whenever he sensed you had a shitty day. Tonight was no exception.

“Zwei doppelte Kurze Whiskey.” (Two double shots of whiskey.) You raised two fingers at him to spell out your order.

He grunted out an acknowledgement as he got to work, filling two empty glasses with the fiery amber liquor, one glass topped up significantly more than the other.

“Macht er dir Probleme?” (Is he giving you any trouble?) He asked, without looking up from pouring the shots. It seemed like he had noticed your little commotion with Leon from just before.

“Aktuell nicht,” (Not for now.) you answered guardedly.

At this point, Leon had caught up to you, watching as the bartender placed the glass with more whiskey on the counter top in front of you and the one with less before Leon. 

Leon huffed at the slight and shook his head. “I’ll take the bottle too.”

The bartender eyed him suspiciously as he plonked the whiskey bottle on the counter loudly, like there was an unspoken competition going on between them.

“Here,” Leon mentioned coolly, sliding a couple of euro bills along the counter to pay for all the drinks. “Keep the change.”

You sighed at the childish display before you, giving the bartender an apologetic look as you took your glass without a word, and settled in at the small table you had informally reserved earlier. The people around you were far more interested in drinking than any conversation you were about to have. Occasionally a fight started, but those responsible were easily cleared out by the staff. 

There should be no issues with privacy here, you thought, as you downed your first round of drinks simultaneously with Leon.

The sharp alcohol burned your throat, warming you from the inside. You noticed Leon wincing as he brought the glass to his cut lip, finishing its contents in one clean gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Did he get hurt in the field? You wondered, but chose not to question it, instead pouring yourself another shot as Leon did likewise.

Frustrated by the ongoing silence between the two of you and Leon’s seeming reluctance to speak, you decided to break the dead air, stating sarcastically, “Anything else you need before we get started? Room service? A hot bath, perhaps?”

He threw back another shot, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “Hm, don’t tempt me.”

“Leon, what happened? All these years… I thought you had died.” You were getting tired of this game and wanted an honest exchange for once.

“I did,” he replied softly.

“Huh?”

Averting his gaze quickly, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It doesn’t matter.” 

But you wanted answers. You needed to know what had been haunting him too. “It does to me.”

You reached out to him cautiously, but just as your fingers ghosted the back of his hand, he moved it away, his voice turning cold as ice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re expecting, but it’s been a long time-”

His reaction took you by surprise as you interjected defensively, “Yeah, I can count.” 

A long time? If anyone should be able to comprehend that, you were more than qualified.

“I’m not the same guy you used to know back then,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard you.

“And I’m not the same girl you knew either,” you countered, in a mixture of anger and confusion. He was talking to you like he was blaming you for something. It wasn’t fair and you weren’t going to put up with it anymore. “Stop avoiding the question, Leon.”

“Still as stubborn as hell though,” he muttered.

Your blood boiled at his non-answer. “Is this some kind of joke to you?” You seethed, raising your voice. “I mourned you. The past 7 years. I heard nothing. Your parents heard nothing.” You emphasized each point, taking another shot afterwards to calm your nerves. Your face scrunched up in response to the harsh bite of the liquor. “And now this?”

He paused for a moment, fiddling with the empty glass in his hands, before hesitantly responding, “I got out of Raccoon City. Then, the government asked me to work for them.”

You caught the drift of what he was implying when he stressed the word ‘asked’, like it wasn’t by choice. But you didn’t understand what hold they had on him.

“That’s all you need to know.” Placing his glass back down on the table, he took a swig from the bottle itself this time. The few sentences he gave you had taken a toll on him.

“Why? How did they-”

“The rest is classified,” he snapped through gritted teeth, as a form of warning not to push it any further.

You slumped back in your chair in defeat, realizing that you weren’t much closer to understanding him and what he had gone through.

“Why did you join Silje’s company?” Leon questioned out of the blue, his tone filled with resentment, so much so that you bit your lip in reflex as guilt seeped into your heart.

“After you… die-disappeared, I-I didn’t know what else to do.” You cast your eyes downwards, your voice choking up with emotion as the memories you had suppressed came flooding back, like a gaping wound in your side. 

“I had to leave. Everything just-” you paused, clenching your fists so hard that you could see the imprints of your fingernails against your palms. “-reminded me of you.”

At this, his stony gaze faltered slightly and a look of despondence slowly spread across his face. 

“You could have gone anywhere else, but you just had to choose her, didn’t you?” He uttered somewhat accusingly. “You really shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“A bit too late for that,” you argued. Did he think you couldn’t hold your own?

“You can still walk away,” he offered.

Shaking your head, you peered back at him defiantly. “I’m not leaving you.”

“That’s what you said last time,” he retorted bitterly, his brows etched together in a frown. “Look at how that turned out.”

Your mouth ran dry, and it felt as if you had been given a tight slap across your cheek. 

So this was what it was all about? He still faulted you for what happened in the past? The most troubling thing was that you had nothing to say to that. You truly held yourself accountable for whatever that had gone wrong.

“Is this why you want to get rid of me?” It came out as a bare whisper.

He shrugged impassively, unable to meet your eyes like he was hiding something. “It’s just better this way.”

Your mind was going round in circles as you were put on the spot. However, something inside you kept rebelling against what Leon had to say. You couldn’t abandon him again. Not like this, even though he claimed it was the better route to take. Didn’t he once tell you to trust him to make his own decisions? Then, he should offer you the same courtesy. You weren’t about to throw in the towel and give up now.

So instead of running away like he expected you to, you pushed back. “No.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I said no,” you repeated again resolutely. “We have a job to do. I’m helping you to infiltrate this base whether you like it or not.”

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he brooded quietly in the corner, but he continued to hear you out.

“Once that’s done, we can go back to our own separate lives if you want,” you stated. “Just like how it was.” 

A fair compromise. Although deep down you hoped it wouldn’t mark the end of your interactions with Leon. Well, you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it.

After a while of considering your suggestion, he agreed warily, “Ok.”

His gaze was impenetrable while both of you drank in silence. At some point, you decided to call it a night, since you had an early start with him tomorrow to go over your next plan of action. It was drizzling when you came out of the bar, the water droplets falling on your face like a baptism of a new chapter. You had made your bed, now you had to lie in it.

As Leon called for another cab to take him back to where he was staying, you left without a word, walking on your own to the nearest U-Bahn station. He watched you until you were just a tiny speck in his vision, lost amongst the sea of people and glowing street lights.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Leon were standing in front of the dining table of his service apartment, a mess of papers sprawled across every surface. He rested his curled fingers under his chin, eyeing the diagrams and notes scribbled on the sheets like a hawk, analyzing them for any obvious patterns.

He picked up a report that you had drafted recently. “So Silje told you all of this?”

You yawned and sipped at the instant coffee Leon had offered you when you had arrived. It was a couple of hours earlier than when you were normally up, as you’d have to head over to the theater to train after this meeting. You had pushed away whatever thoughts you had resulting from the conversation with Leon last night to the back of your mind, in favor of professionalism. Afterall, it wasn’t your first rodeo pretending things were fine, and neither was it Leon’s.

“Some of it, yes. Though in her own way of speaking in riddles,” you explained. “The rest I had overheard or tailed her without her knowing.”

“Are you sure you weren’t spotted?” It sounded like a mixture of concern and him questioning your abilities, the latter of which irritated you a little.

“If I was, would I still be standing here?” You stated brusquely.

“Fair enough.”

You pointed at the blueprint map again, tracing the outlines of your markings with your fingers as you explained, “From what I gathered, the site has two main sections beyond the theater space. The upper levels are easily accessible, but shaped like a labyrinth. I haven’t explored everything yet, but if my gut feeling is right, I would say that the entrance leading further down might be all the way over here.” You tapped at the red circle with a question mark drawn on the map.

“The lower levels are only accessible via keycard. Obviously Silje has one, but there must be others too,” you reasoned. 

“That said, I’ve seen her bringing in the same man more than once. Business type, probably in his 60s, speaking German with a Swiss accent.” Then, you proceeded to describe his outward appearance in further detail.

“Silje always passed him off as being part of the company board. I doubt it though,” you shrugged.

Leon hummed in response, and the corners of his mouth turned slightly upward, as if he was trying to hold back a smile. It was the first sign of approval he showed you since you had reconnected.

As he thumbed through the rest of the papers, he cocked his head to the side, tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly. “One thing I don’t get from this is why she’s confided in you.”

You nipped your lip, swallowing anxiously, as you were afraid of disclosing what you might have committed yourself to. 

“She wanted to offer me a gift,” you whispered.

“A gift?” He tensed up noticeably at the word. “Did you accept?”

“Um… yes?” You replied uneasily, but tried to persuade him that nothing else had happened yet. “She only told me it would come soon.”

The drumming of his fingers on the table stopped abruptly, as he gripped the edge of it, clenching his jaw as he spoke, “Why the fuck would you do something like that?”

“I-I thought it would help,” you stuttered, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his mood.

“What exactly has Bergmann told you about this case?” He hissed.

“That Silje was suspected of harboring some bioterrorists.”

You flinched as he cursed a second time loudly, before muttering a quick, “Excuse me for a minute.” With that, he darted out of the room into the hallway to make a call.

So here you were, left alone without answers again. The secrecy surrounding the entire mission and Leon’s erratic behavior was starting to grate on you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.

Past the hallway, out of sight and earshot, Leon had connected with Hunnigan on comms.

“Leon,” she greeted. “Any news?”

“Our old friend, the Plaga,” he stated. “Seems like our suspicions might be right.”

“You have the source to back that up?” She asked out of habit, even though she already knew the answer.

“I went through the documents. I’m not 100%, but it’s close.”

He detailed an abnormality that stood out during the investigations. “A few days ago, some people on site experienced temporary psychotic episodes where their veins turned black, but reverted back to normal after.”

“That’s aligning with whatever intel we’ve already picked up. It could be a new strain of the Plaga,” he concluded.

Hunnigan nodded. “We’ll require a sample for the labs when you’re in the base. Anything you need me to do?”

“Run some files on any surviving Los Iluminados members. Focus on trade routes with Germany,” he requested. “The informant mentioned Silje entertaining a particular ‘business partner’ on a regular basis.”

“On it.” She typed away furiously at a computer keyboard off-screen.

“Another thing,” Leon commented. “Why wasn’t the informant told about the real nature of this situation?” 

“That was under Bergmann’s discretion.” 

He scoffed derisively. “She’s putting her in danger. The informant has no idea what she’s risking here. Silje just offered her the ‘gift’ and you and I know what that means.”

“Leon, you know the rules,” Hunnigan sighed sympathetically. “We don’t really have much say in this jurisdiction.”

“What do you mean? She reports to HQ!”

“Yeah, and they’ve given her free reign,” she explained, without batting an eyelid.

“In-fucking-credible.” He rolled his eyes.

“You need to press on. The informant has the best chance of getting you in,” she reasoned, giving pause and contemplating her next choice of words before speaking. “I would suggest not getting too attached to her.”

“I’m not,” Leon deadpanned, despite the look on Hunnigan’s face, like she didn’t believe him. 

“At the rate this is going, she may not be around long enough to do her job,” he clarified.

“You know we have a cure for that,” she rebutted. “The girl will be fine.”

He pursed his lips, changing the subject. “Hm, just send me the updates later.”

With that, he shut off his comms device and headed back into the living room, only to be accosted by your snide remark, “Let me guess, another convo that’s classified?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Not quite.”

“Whatever Bergmann has been feeding you is bullshit,” he began. “We���ve been suspecting that the theater is being used as a front for developing a new batch of bioweapons they’re about to ship into the US.”

Your eyes widened at the newfound information. The whole time you had assumed that Silje was just providing a safehouse, not a full-on experimentation chamber. But with the recent events that had occurred, you should have considered it earlier.

“So the labs must be underground.” He thumped the pad of his index finger on the sketchings of the lower levels of the site on the map. “And they’re not just hiding people down there.”

Casting over a solemn glance, he revealed, “I’m telling you this, because you need to be careful.”

“And stop making deals you shouldn’t be making,” he warned.

You let the words sink in. “I see,” you nodded slowly. “Thanks, I… appreciate that.”

“The minute you feel something is off, or your veins start to darken, you contact me straight away and get the hell outta there. Understood?”

“Ok, I will,” you promised.

On the one hand, you were grateful that Leon had the courtesy to inform you about what you were getting into, but on the other, you were scared of what was to come. You had heard about the Terragrigia Panic and the B.O.W.s that devastated the floating city a year ago. The gruesome scenes were splashed across the news for weeks. Would the same happen here?

As if he could read your mind, Leon placed a hand on your shoulder to reassure you. “I won’t let them get you.”

“I trust you.” You said it as if it was clear as day.

His eyes bore into yours and his hand made its way towards your cheek, but stopped short in midair, a hair’s breadth away from touching your skin. Then, it fell to the side as he turned away, like he was ashamed of what had just transpired.

You cleared your throat in awkwardness, trying to recall the next point on the meeting agenda. Ah yes, Till.

Till was a fence you got to know from the parties you frequented. He was a friend of a friend of a… you got the idea. At first, you bought your drugs from his minions in the clubs, but then became a regular client of his the moment you started your informant career.

“As requested, I’ve arranged a meeting with Till.” You grabbed your day bag from the seat you had left it on. “He operates out of a nightclub that has a pretty strict door policy. So you’ll have to look the part.”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

You sighed, unsure of how this would go down. “Um, your usual black get-up will do,” you mentioned tentatively. Unzipping your bag, which unveiled a sneak peek of its contents, you peered back at him. Here goes nothing. “So are you a more of a latex or leather kind of guy?”

What you would have given to permanently capture the look of shock on Leon’s face.

“Are you fucking serious?” He blurted out.

Perhaps you should make the decision for him then. Giving him a once over, you identified a common theme with his casual leather jacket and fingerless gloves. 

“I’m guessing leather,” you discerned, rummaging through your bag for a studded harness and tossing it over to him.

He caught the chunky material in his hands, looking at it with apprehension whilst shaking his head.

Fishing out a translucent, black crop top, you displayed it in front of Leon as you walked over to him. “Maybe over this and a pair of leather boxers.”

He grimaced. “No.”

Well, he sure wasn’t making your job easy. “I’ll be doing most of the ass-kissing at the door,” you argued. “You just have to wear this and keep your mouth shut.”

Please go along with it, you prayed. There was only so much magic you could pull to get him in at the club door.

Examining the outfit you had picked out for him gingerly, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

At least he wasn’t protesting any further.

“I’ll meet you there at 4 in the morning on Sunday,” you reminded him. “You’d better have something substantial to trade with.”

“That’s the least of my concerns right now,” he grumbled, to which you snickered in amusement before departing for the theater.

[denwritesandcries]

Like a Movie Scene – Van Palmer

Pairing: van palmer x fem!reader

Summary: Van Palmer should come with a warning sign, she invades your life with her crooked smiles and stupid jokes and draws you into her orbit without even asking for permission, as if it were something destined to happen. Which, you assume, it probably is.

Word count: 7,1k.

Content: No crash!AU, cursing, mentions of homophobia (it’s the 90’s), friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, a little angst, shitty families, LOTS of movie references, the yjs being normal teenagers.

A/N: Van is a flirty little shit but also a complete loser and we love her for that.

English is not my first language.

Van Palmer should come with a warning sign or at least a 'no returns' marked on the tag of her football jerseys.

You don't think it would have done any good, though. Van draws you into her orbit from the first moment you met, like a bright and warm sun; allowing you to exist steadily in her life even though, technically, she has invaded yours.

You suppose then, that you wouldn't have it any other way.

It's likely you guys would never have really spoken to each other if it weren't for a mix-up between your practice schedules and a stupid argument between your coaches.

You see, the track team – which you were part of – always had practice right after the football team, because Wiskayok High School barely had the structure to keep both a girls' and boys' football team running properly, let alone a decent space for the few other sports the small-town school offered. Your practices took place on the same days of the week and one after the other, always at the same time. It was the implicit rule: from 4:30 pm the field is yours.

Coach Martínez didn't seem to care, however, because there he was arguing with your coach, since apparently football practice had run late and the girls needed to train for an hour and a half.

Your coach wasn't having any of it – your time was already too short without these changes –, and now both men were in the middle of the field screaming in each other's faces while poor coach Scott tried to calm them down.

“Dude,” you recognize Natalie Scatorccio’s tired, hoarse voice beside you, “They could just cancel and let us go.”

You and apparently most people there, if the expressions of annoyance and crossed arms were any indication, couldn't agree more.

"Right?" You said, “Look at them, you think they’re gonna fight?”

Nat let out an amused snort, “They’re going to eat Coach Ben alive, that’s what they’re gonna do.”

You would have said something else if it weren't for a third voice coming from right behind you:

“They're gonna kiss, look how close their faces are,” It was Van Palmer, the goalie, with red hair swinging in a ponytail and a smirk on her lips. She shook her head in mock disappointment and crossed her arms, pointing with her chin at the scene, “In front of us, kids? What a lack of professionalism.”

You choke on a laugh and her gaze snaps to you, her smile widening with something like satisfaction in her eyes. The attention made you nervous, you weren't used to interacting with Yellowjackets members other than Nat, who was easy to talk to and was your lab partner as well as sharing cigarettes at parties, meaning that talking to Van Palmer was a completely new territory.

You joke back insecurely, “At least you have real coaches, ours is the art teacher.”

That made her let out an incredulous laugh and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel pleased about it. Like almost the entire school, you also had a crush on the Yellowjackets.

Your laughter died down just as Coach Scott ran across the field to the two mixed teams with the most genuine expression of exhaustion you've ever seen, “We decided to share the space,” he says, and that's all. Your first interaction with Van: a conversation that lasted less than three minutes mocking your teachers. You would never expect it to evolve into anything beyond that.

It's strange trying to do your usual routine of running through the poorly painted banners around the pitch – which looked like it had never seen better days – with a game taking place just a few meters away from you and your teammates. The fear of getting hit in the face by a ball was embarrassing.

Yet, as you wait for the relay, your gaze tracks the girls in action. You don't know the names of most of them, but recognize Taissa and Shauna fighting over the ball at one end of the field, the confrontation seems a little too intense, which makes you a bit nervous and your eyes go straight to the nearest goal, coincidentally, is the one Van is defending.

You notice how beautiful she looks with her expression completely concentrated and her hands resting on the knees, waiting to act. Shauna overtakes Taissa and kicks hard the ball towards the goal; Van grabs it as soon as she crosses the white line on the lawn.

A giggle escapes you as Shauna turns around in frustration and the ball bounces back into the field, Van and Tai share a wry smile. The goalie turns her attention away from the game for a moment to look around and you swear she's looking for something – or someone.

Your teacher calls signaling your turn and you leave your thoughts while you line up with some other teammates.

You can do your relay routine for exactly fifteen minutes before something goes wrong.

You run on autopilot, so used to it that it's practically a second nature, letting your gaze return to scanning the field with interest when one of the players tries to score again and Van throws herself against the ground to catch the ball with a stronger and clearly exaggerated movement compared to last time. You thought this would be a one-time thing, seeing as the way Jackie and Nat rolled their eyes at her from where they were off to the side blocking other girls, but it kept happening the entire time you spent running until it was time for your break.

You choke on the water you drink when you realize that Van is the one staring at you this time, hands resting on her thighs, face sweaty and red, as if she doesn't have a game to focus on.

Shit, you think, how are you going to keep your head in training now? You wonder what you would have done to get a Yellowjacket's attention so suddenly as you return to your line.

You resume your run at a pretty good pace despite the sudden nervousness, feeling a little more confident when you hear a loud “Come on guys, no one has beaten L/N’s time yet!” coming from your teacher.

And then you're approaching the curve flush with the football field, the curve that gives you the perfect view of the goal.

Van is there, of course, just throwing the ball downfield again. Van, who rests her hands on her hips and catches her breath when Coach Scott blows the whistle and tells that her team won the game. Van, who turns around just in time and sees you approaching. Van, who removes a strand of red hair from her face that has escaped the ponytail and gives you a malicious toothy smile. Van, who winks at you. Van, who makes you fall. Literally.

It's all so out of nowhere, so suddenly that your heart misses a beat and you miss a step, tripping over your own feet as if your legs forgot how to work properly, falling in the middle of the curve and getting in the way of your colleagues further back in the lanes next to your side

Shit, holyshit, fuck, you just fell in front of the entire football team.

One of your friends bends down next to you to help and asks what happened, you blame the laces of your sneakers that untied when you fell because any reason is less embarrassing than what actually happened.

Your knee is bleeding and one of your arms is scraped, so the coach decides to have pity and leave you on the bench until it's time to leave. You make your way there with your ears burning and your head down.

If Van had any kind of interest in you, it definitely disappeared after that.

You remain alone on the bench, avoiding looking anywhere for a long time until Misty Quigley appears at your side with things to bandage your wound and you happily let her fill the silence with whatever she wants to say for the next few minutes.

Your night is spent tossing and turning in bed over the shame you've experienced and the next day as you walk through the corridors, the possibility of the goalie talking to you again doesn't even cross your mind as the first classes go by like a blur.

And then you're at your lunch table waiting for Nat to show up to talk like she usually does when she doesn't disappear around school, but after a few minutes a head of red hair takes over your vision instead of the usual dyed blonde.

“What’s up?” Van is sitting next to you, with the same crooked smile and her cheek propped up in a fist.

“Uh, nothing much really.” You have no idea what is going on; she is sitting with you, smiling at you and talking to you. Why is she doing this? You can feel a few other people's eyes on you through the interaction.

She introduces herself, even though you already know who she is, holding out a hand for you to shake – they’re rough, you notice, with calluses adorning the fingers –, probably just so you can introduce yourself too. “I’m Van,” she says, and that’s it.

She’s been Van since the beginning. Not Vanessa Palmer or the Yellowjackets goalkeeper, just Van. She says it so matter-of-factly that it would simply sound wrong to call her anything else.

You engage in a conversation about anything and everything after you introduce yourself – just your nickname too, you assume Nat already told her your name at some point yesterday – speaking as if you already knew each other, and somehow it doesn't feel weird.

Your eyes end up focusing on a black-haired girl crying at a table on the other side of the cafeteria with another girl, you don't know either of them, but you know that they are both on the main team too.

“Hey,” you point with your chin, “What’s up with her?”

Van finds the source of your attention and raises her eyebrows, “Oh, you mean Mari?”

You answer with a simple nod of your head and that's enough for Van to invade your personal space with a devilish expression and a mischievous smile.

“She had a bad break up,” Van says and you tilt your head at her.

“But was it that bad?” You arch an eyebrow, “People don’t cry in such full places over nothing.”

Van moves a little closer to you and lowers her voice conspiratorially, as if she’s telling you a very important secret, “She were dumped” and then a dramatic pause, “For the guy’s half-sister.”

"What?" Your jaw drops completely and Van nods her head.

“Lottie told me, she knows about these things,” she rests her face in her hand again, “She said she caught them kissing at her last party, Mari must have known.”

“‘The fuck?” The shocked look you give her only seems to amuse her.

“Oh, she's crying right now but boy, she was mad as hell in our math class today,” Van blows an exaggerated raspberry, “I bet she'll end up coming up with an absurd plan to get revenge and burn down his house just like in She Devil if the story spread.”

It will definitely spread, you thought.

An unexpected giggle escaped your chest – you might have felt a little bad for talking shit about a girl you didn't even know later, but not now – and your gaze found Van's face again.

“Yeah,” you start, “Except she was replaced by the guy’s own sister, half-sister, whatever, instead of a famous writer.”

Her face lights up completely as she speaks, bright green eyes like those of an excited puppy.

“You like that movie?” She asks.

“I love that movie,” you correct, “It’s iconic and Meryl Streep looks good.”

"She does.”

This seems to completely cement Van's interest in you, because she continues to sit with you at lunch for the rest of the week. When Nat finally appears, she raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it.

You and Van get closer in a surprisingly short period of time, but the way she seems to settle into your life is gradual and your silly little crush on the goalie seems to get stronger without even realizing it. Waiting for your lunches in the cafeteria, conversations in the hallways, glances exchanged during physics class – since you sat too far away to really talk – and the exchange of silly words about movies you like.

You have the habit of going out for a run every weekend in the morning – it's not easy to keep the best time in the routines, after all – and one day you decide to change your route by pure coincidence to a longer one that ends up near one of the trailer parks in the city; the fact that Nat mentioned one day that she’s neighbors with a certain teammate has nothing to do with it.

It surprises you that Van is awake at 8 am on a Saturday, but you find her – by pure coincidence, nothing more than that – outside a sad trailer watering an even sadder small garden. When she sees you, your hair is a mess and breathing is a little out of step, and you give her an awkward wave as you catch your breath. It's the first time you've seen each other outside of school.

“You’re stalking me now, weirdo?” Her crooked smile tells you that there's no real bite behind it.

"No," You place your hands on your hips, kicking some loose pebbles on the floor with your sneakers. Yes, you liar, “I always run around here, how come we’ve never seen each other before?”

Fuck it, you think. If Van can just show up for you because she wants to, then you can do the same.

She seems happy to abandon her garden chores when you ask her to go for a walk and she agrees to make you company once there’s no running involved; a walk, because no one deserves to be running around like Rocky Balboa at this time of the morning.

You walk together side by side through the neighborhood with your shoulders brushing against each other as if you've done this many times before, Van whistling a random tune carelessly.

Talking to her when the initial nervousness passes is one of the easiest things you've ever done and you find yourself enjoying and listening to everything Van tells you. This potential friendship – maybe more. Maybe, just maybe – it's the most fun thing that's happened in your year so far.

Your walks together also become a habit after that. You just come back the next day and Van is there with a smile on her face, so you keep coming back and she keeps smiling.

You also start walking home after school. Neither of you have a car, so why not?

You crave her company and she craves yours, you stay for Van's training and she stays for yours – no one else on the teams has the energy to complain about exaggerated movements or stumbles on tracks – and then when you're ready, you head off to your ways together and it makes your heart warm every time.

Everything about Van just makes you want to know her even more; the way she gestures with her arms and declares with the utmost disgust how she keeps distance from any musical that isn’t animated – “But you only watched Cats!” “And that was enough!” –, they way she tells you about how she and Taissa are watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch every Friday, or how she makes fun of any weird thing Misty said during practice that week.

You listen and absorb everything with an stupid drunk smile on your face, letting her entwine your arms and chatter to her heart's content.

Keep talking, you want to say, I love your voice, seeing you happy makes me happy. Keep talking, keep talking, keep talking.

You invite her to your house for the first time under the pretext of studying, after she throws herself on the chair next to you with a tearful expression during physics class.

“I’m gonna fail,” she whines, banging her head dramatically against the open notebook on the table, “The professor hates me.”

You start teasingly, “Maybe he would hate you a little less if you actually paid attention in his class.”

"I do!" Van protests, “It’s personal, he must think I’m strange or somethin’ and lower my grades for it.” She crosses her arms with a pout and a roll of eyes.

“Of course,” you agree with an exaggerated nod, “And you, yourself, are strange and unusual.”

“Yes!” She exclaims, ignoring the looks she attracts, “But that’s not the point, don’t quote Beetlejuice to me now, woman, this is serious.”

“Oh, wow, okay then.” You shrug.

Van looks at you before resting her head on the table again. She seems so hopeless that you give in.

“Hey, c’mon,” you say, letting your hand rest on her hair and stroke it gently, “You can come to my house today. I’ll help you study for the next test.”

Van's shoulders tense suddenly and her head snaps up so fast it makes you jump back.

"Really?" Her eyes are wide, face as red as her hair: “I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

That's strange. Van is usually the one who makes you nervous, not the other way around.

“You won’t bother me at all,” you reply without giving it much thought, “There won’t be anyone at home anyway.”

And then there's silence, Van's face turns impossibly redder and after a second of confusion, you understand.

You just invited Van to your house. Alone. There is an innuendo there. Several possibilities that neither of you will mention, but that you both know are there.

Your face starts to heat up, so you clear your throat and stutter a confused “Are you coming then?”, because you can't let her realize what you just thought about.

Van responds with a squeaky “Okay, sure,” and hurries back to her usual seat when class finally begins.

When you adjust yourself in the chair and think about finally releasing the breath you didn't realize you were holding, your gaze finds Lottie Matthews staring at you three seats away with her eyebrows raised. Shit.

Lottie says nothing, just wrinkles her nose contemplatively and faces forward, but she knows, she always knows. You feel your hands sweat and shake with nervousness at the prospect of becoming the new school gossip like Mari last month. The queer who fell too hard for a Yellowjacket only to get it wrong and ruin everything.

You shake your head. No, Lottie wouldn't do that. You weren't exactly friends, but she’s not mean, there was no reason for her to upset you, your thoughts were just talking too loud. Plus, it's not like she actually saw anything. You didn't do anything forbidden, friends go to each other's houses all the time. Your crush is not obvious.

That's stupid, you think, it doesn't matter, but you don't really believe it. Yes, it matters, at least in this little town at the end of the world.

You just hope you don't end up crying in the cafeteria too.

There is no training that day, so as soon as classes are over, you leave school together and make your way home. For the first time, the silence is awkward and makes you feel bad for making the invitation the wrong way. Maybe Van just doesn't swing that way and you made her uncomfortable somehow. It's a possibility; you're not exactly in the closet to the rest of the school.

Still, the way her hand brushes against yours gives you hope that this isn't the case.

When Van enters your house, the first thing she does is look around.

“Wow,” she begins, “Its really…”

“Small?” You complete, feeling somewhat conscious. Your house wasn't a trailer, but it wasn't anything compared to the houses of Van's cool friends. Definitely nothing like Lottie or Jackie.

“Empty.” She corrects.

Huh. It's true, your house was praticly always empty, not only because your parents spent as much time as they could out of it, pretending they didn't have a kid to still take care of, but also because of the lack of furniture and personality, it didn't seem like a cozy place to a family live. As a whole, it could be really lonely most of the time. Van seems to have noticed this with a single glance.

You choose to ignore the comment, suddenly thinking that this might end up becoming too intimate. In a vulnerable way.

When Van enters your bedroom for the first time, she gives the place the same curious look as the rest of the house, but her jaw quickly drops.

“You got a TV in your room?” She sounds completely shocked.

“Yeah,” you snort in amusement, “My uncle runs an appliance store, he fixed one that no one picked up last summer, so now it’s mine.”

Van still looks very impressed as her eyes roam the rest of the room. Your bedroom was, perhaps, the only place in the house where someone actually seemed to live. Posters and photos adorned the colorful walls and it seemed like every little thing in the room was directly a part of you, from an old stuffed animal on one of the shelves to the small pile of messy clothes on the chair next to the study table because you weren't planning on receiving no one to remember to put them away.

The tension from before seems to be dissipating and you can see from the expression on her face the exact moment Van notices your small VHS collection up ahead.

“Okay, that's it, we're only hanging out here from now.”

And that awkward moment passes completely.

In a matter of minutes you both are comfortable in your bed with books and notebooks spread around, after convincing Van to start studying with the promise that she could choose whatever movie she wanted for you to watch when you were finished.

Van seems to dedicate herself twice as much, eager to fulfill the agreement and the hours pass quickly as she understands the concepts you explain about the subject and then all you have to do is say that it's time for a break for her to jump out of bed with a smile from ear to ear and choose a movie.

She puffs out her chest holding the tape in her hands and proudly declares that you're watching Jurassic Park and you don't even think to question it when you return the smile and takes on the task of making popcorn.

Van ends up leaning against you throughout the movie, reciting all the lines from memory along with the characters close to your ear – she knows all of them – and your heart remains racing with blood rushing in your ears until she leaves.

The two of you keep hanging out at your house again and again, just like she said it would be. Sometimes you study or watch something together, but most of the time Van simply keeps you company while you do your chores around the house, following you around like a puppy while you cook or do the laundry. Your home has never been so fulled or welcoming.

You go home after classes and practice – occasionally with Nat in tow – and stay together until it's late and dark, every now and then you say that she could just sleep over as a joke, but she never accepts it. You gulps the pang of sadness and rejection each time it happens.

And you guys talk a lot, you've never been so delighted to hear someone blab about anything.

Van spends days talking about how excited she is for summer while helping you chop the things for dinner. She and Natalie always get jobs together and she’s dying to buy a car – “You’re the runner here, lady, not me.” –, an old dark green pickup truck. She shows you the leaflet with a smile so proud that you don't have the courage to admit that you thought the thing was horrible; She tells you about how she wears the clothes of her older brother who apparently left town as soon as he finished school while helping you fold the freshly washed clothes, some of her own included.

It's so domestic that you wonder why this didn't happen sooner, depriving either of you of a routine together like this for so long seemed mean.

One night you’re sleeping soundly when you are startled awake by a loud knock on your window and you turn to find a face pressed against the glass. You almost have a heart attack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Van!”

She's standing there with a pout and big eyes, pointing at the lock and you consider leaving her outside for the fright she got you. One look at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed tells you that it's already past 2:00 am.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your voice hoarse and tired from sleep, letting her come in, but only because you don't want her to get a cold outside.

Van sneaks into the room, suddenly shy, playing with the hem of the oversized t-shirt she's wearing and avoiding your eyes. She gives you an awkward smile.

“I was just wondering if we could have that sleepover today?”

She looks upset. Something happend. Something that upset her enough that she decided to run to your home in the middle of the night.

“Van,” your expression softened, worry flooding your voice, “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” She clicked her tongue, still not looking at you in the eye.

Okay, you won't get anything out of it then. Van likes to talk, but not when it comes to problems like this. Problems at home.

The thing is that you and Van have a lot in common, like your dubious sense of humor and your love for movies, but are opposites in many others; the main one: where your house is always empty, hers is always full. Full of people who take away the smile that you always try hard to keep on her face.

“Okay,” you sigh, taking her hand and making your way to the messed bed, “Let’s get some sleep then.”

“Oh,” She looks even more embarrassed, her sweaty hand in yours, “I can take the couch or the floor. I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”

You let out an outraged huff, “You run to my house, climb in through my window, ask me to have a sleepover and now you want to sleep on the floor?”

She drags her feet on the floor, “...Yeah?”

You choose to ignore her answer, practically dragging her over to the bed and making her lie down. When she does, Van moves to the other side of the mattress, clearly trying her best not to disturb you, but in a fit of courage and exhaustion, you wrap an arm around her and press her against your chest. She lets out a squeak of surprise at the action.

“Go to sleep, Van.” You mumble against the back of her neck, burying your face in her thick hair.

Her body is still tense against yours, but Van allows one hand to rest on the arm you keep around her waist.

You lose count of how long you spend lying awake in silence cohabiting in each other's space, but when you wake up in the morning, Van is still asleep, her hand never leaving your arm.

You guys don't talk about it and you never find out what really happened to make her feel so bad that day, but Van shows up more often to stay the night. She never tells you when she's coming and you get scared every time when you hear the knocking on the window – you swear she does it on purpose, that little smartass.

You realize that you really love her, not just as a silly high school crush, in the middle of a hot May, when Van makes you stand in the line at the cinema box office for two and a half hours and miss the day of school to get tickets to watch Jurassic Park - The Lost World. Because if you saw the first one together then you should see the second one too, obviously.

You're sure you wouldn't put yourself through this for anyone else – but don't let Natalie know that.

The whole situation feels a lot like a date and you try to ignore the anxiety that washes over you as you rummage through your closet for an outfit that you think is good enough for the night. The way Van's jaw drops when she looks at you when she meets you at the front door makes the effort completely worth it.

She spends the entire movie almost bouncing in her seat with excitement and swearing at the parts that don't make sense, because apparently the movie is also really bad, even though she's so happy watching it, and you manage to be bold enough to hide your face on her shoulder during the “scary” parts and leave your head resting there until the end.

You're not proud at all to say you spent seven bucks on a squeezy dinosaur for her on the way back, but it's your senior year, damn it, let the girl have fun with her silly toy before college.

You go back home – ‘home’ you think now, not ‘your house’. Your home. Your home with Van. – with her ranting about special effects and scenes you don't remember because you spent more time looking at her than the screen and you end up on the balcony before you know it.

“That was so good.” Van is just inches away from you, looking at you with bright eyes full of happiness; your hands are sweaty, so you put them in your pockets so she doesn't notice.

“Yeah, it really was,” you return with a playful smile, “Even though you convinced me to spend hours under the sun for it.”

“Hey!” She protests, moving impossibly closer, “What would the experience be worth without a little effort, huh?”

“Sure.” You giggle.

She's so pretty, you think; hair down and a black jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at you as if she actually saw you. Knows you. I want to kiss her.

“You had fun today?” Van asks, unable to avoid the small tone of doubt that escapes her voice.

I want you to kiss me, you think.

“Yes,” you answer instead, “Yes, I did.”

One night Van simply comes in through your window and you don't even react anymore, leaning into her body against you under the covers.

“You gotta stop coming in through my window,” you grumble.

“Then stop leaving it open,” she huffs, “Someone might break in, you know that?”

You can feel her smile against your neck and you're about to fall asleep again when you hear her voice whispering:

“You’re gonna go to my games, now that we actually have a chance to go to the nationals, right?”

“Of course,” you mumble with a comforting pat of her hand on your stomach, “I’ll be the first one in the stands cheering you on. You’ll be embarrassed of me.”

Van buries her face in your shoulder, “Good.”

You get sick the same exact week her last game until nationals takes place, lamenting the stupid flu that left you feverish and stuck at home for days.

You can't go to school and Van can't come to see you because Coach Martinez has increased the training routine as the team advances in the championship, you assume it must be really tiring because Van doesn't show up at night either. It's embarrassing the way you can't sleep properly without her.

The worst of all: you lose Van's game.

You resign yourself to spending the afternoon on the couch brooding in remorse until you hear a knock on the door.

Coming across Van's sad face with her clearly trying not to cry was not what you expected when you opened the door, knowing for sure that you would only be greeted later – probably after a victory party – with excited screams and bright little dog eyes asking for help to pack her bags.

"We lost." She says, eyes glued on the carpet.

“Oh,” you say stupidly, “Oh, dear.”

Your voice seems to turn a switch inside her, because Van lifts her head to you with her lips trembling and the next moment you two are on the couch with her practically sprawled on your lap and crying, crying hard. You've never seen her like this before.

You hear something about Jackie hitting the post at the last moment as she sobs, but what seems to make her really upset are the balls she couldn't save during the game. Like it would’ve make difference.

Comforting was never really your strong suit, you can't say you're really upset that the Yellowjackets lost, the idea of having Van so far away from you even for a few days didn't please you at all, a bad feeling in your chest told you that something could go wrong.

“Well,” you run your fingers up and down her back, “You know one good thing about this? We can go to Homecoming now.”

Her breathing hitches, but if Van notices how you say 'we' instead of 'you' she doesn't say anything.

She's on your lap, nose close to yours, eyes swollen with tears but with the same look from that night at the movies, the one that makes your hands sweat and leaves your heart weak.

Unlike the movies, however, she kisses you. Like, she actually moves forward and kisses you.

Her lips are wet and soft against yours and you tilt your head to pursue them only for her to pull away with a panicked expression.

"I'm sorry!" Van exclaims, scooting toward the door as if her skin had burned, “I’m sorry! I– I shouldn’t– I’ll see you at school.”

And then she leaves. You don't even have time to react, she runs out the door and gets into that horrible pickup truck – which she had parked in the driveway for the first time less than two weeks ago, wanting to take you for a ride to celebrate the purchase – and you're left standing in the doorway like an idiot after the car disappears from your vision, as if you were waiting for her to come back – you were.

You don't see her at school for the rest of the week, she doesn't show up in class or practice and she certainly doesn't show up at your house, Van is avoiding you and it's so obvious that you feel like crying the entire time you're there, trying to catch a glimpse of her through the halls.

Fuck, you knew this would happen, that you would screw up and make the person you care about the most hate you.

You huff in frustration, letting your head fall against the table feeling someone's gaze on you, someone who isn't Van.

Lottie Matthews isn't skipping physics class, she has no reason to be, so you shouldn't have freaked out as much as you did when you looked up and saw her towering over you next to your desk.

“Shit–” You gasp, jumping back in your seat and almost hitting her chin.

Lottie tilts her head, completely unfazed, with a look of false innocence and curiosity on her face. The look of someone in search of an information.

The vision of Mari crying at the beginning of the year comes back to your mind and a shiver with a line of sweat runs down your spine. Oh no.

“Did you guys break up?” She asks and it's the last thing you expected.

“What?”

Lottie sits next to you, smoothing her skirt over her legs, completely at ease.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she starts with an anxious air, “But please do because I really want to know.”

"Know what?" God, your head is already hurting from this conversation.

Lottie seems to realize that your confusion is genuine, because she stops and frowns at you.

“Didn’t you and Van break up? I thought you were together.”

What the fuck?

"...No? We’re not?”

“Are you asking me?” Lottie arches an eyebrow, also confused.

"No." You clear your throat and roll your tense shoulders, “We’re not.”

“Oh,” she doesn’t seem to know what to say after that, strangely disappointed – just like you.

The class passes with the two of you in an awkward, resigned silence and as you're leaving, Lottie follows you down the halls, attracting glances as you pass by, which was the last thing you wanted at the moment.

“What now?” You sigh.

“I think you should talk to her and sort things out,” Lottie says, “She seems so sad lately, without her usual sparkle.”

You could understand where Lottie was coming from, seeing Van upset was truly heartbreaking, but you couldn't help the bitter pang in your chest. She ran away after the kiss, not you. The kiss she gave you.

“She’s hiding from me,” you admit begrudgingly, “Where else could I talk to her, anyway?”

“In the Homecoming, of course!” Lottie nods at you sagely, as if couldn't be more obvious.

“Of course.” You agree, because, the hell, why not?

The Homecoming is on the weekend, the same weekend the team was supposed to be away for the nationals, which must be why the girls are there, to try and lift their spirits.

You recognize Jackie talking excited to Taissa about something near the tables at the back of the gym, next to a grumpy Shauna with a glass of punch in a hand and the other placed on her waist – in a definitely more then friendly way –, but no sign of of Van in sight.

You end up outside with Natalie, smoking against a wall, as always happen at every party you're at together. She's telling you about how she saw Jeff and Randy with a bottle of liquor before coming in and that they would probably baptize the punch, you both talked about ratting them out to one of the teachers in charge after sneaking a few cups and you probably would’ve done that if Lottie hadn't joined you – coming from who knows where – to ask for a cigarette too.

Nat joked about how it probably wasn't like the expensive brands she seemed to prefer at her parties, but she handed one over without a hitch and the three of you sat there, looking up at the dark, starry sky for a moment.

“You haven’t seen her yet?” Lottie breaks the silence, casually breathing in the smoke.

Nat looks at you sideways and all you do is shrug, not wanting to admit the defeat.

“You should try it near the stands.” She declares.

“What are you, a psychic or something?” You scoff, but go anyway because like Van said, Lottie knows about these things.

She is there. Of course she is. Sitting in the stands staring out at the empty field, wearing a light blue suit with a white shirt and a matching shiny tie that you have no idea where she could have gotten, because there's no way her mom would have let her buy it.

Van notices you approaching by the sound of your footsteps on the ground, her head turning to watch you and for a moment you're afraid she'll run away again.

She doesn't, so you approach, trying your best not to run towards her.

“I gotta quit smoking soon,” you say, stepping on the cigarette your hand was holding and making an overly dramatic effort to sit next to her with heavy breaths, “Or I’ll end up being kicked of track ‘till year is finished.”

Van snorts, “Right, Ponyboy Curtis.”

For a moment it's like anything hasn’t changed between you both, you bet that if you tried with conviction you could almost pretend that nothing had happened. Almost.

“You ran away from me,” you say.

“I did,” Van lowers her head, quietly. Embarrassed. You’re not sure of what exacly.

"Why?" You ask, because that's the question that's been running through your mind for days.

“I–” Van looks away from you, “I thought you wouldn't want that.”

“And I thought you knew how much I wanted it,” you say and Van lifts her head to stare at you with wide, hopefully eyes, “What do you want, Van?”

Her jaw drops and she looks like she was expecting everything but that, her hands twitch on her thighs, as if she wants to reach you.

“You look so beautiful right now,” she sighs softly before steadying her voice, “You look so beautiful that I want to kiss you again.”

"Do it."

And she does, hard and desperate, crushing her nose against yours, as if she's hungry and can't get enough; you wrap your arms around her, hands touching her with the same need.

The lack of air is too much, so Van pulls away from you to immediately start distributing quick kisses down your neck, as if it could all disappear in a second, becoming confident when you tilt your head to grant her more access and only stopping after the hiss that you let go because she bites.

“So…” she laughs nervously, “What now?”

"Now?" You’re out of breath, “Well, can we go back inside and help Nat steal liquour to screw with Jeff and Randy or…”

"Or?" Van arches an eyebrow in amusement.

“We can go home and I can show you how much I missed you.” You shrug, casually tightening your hands on her waist.

“Hm,” she pretends to think about it, “I guess I like the first option better.”

Van laughs at the sound of your offended squeal and avoids the slap you try to give her shoulder.

“Careful, baby,” she intertwines your hand with hers, “I’m gonna start to think that you love me.”

“Oh, you better know that.”

You pull her by her stupid shiny tie and kiss her when she laughs again and let Van guide you to that hideous truck staggering laughing through the crowd of students.

Yeah, you think, I wouldn't have it any other way.

[highpri3stess]

TEE/IVORY The Disgraced One, her hypocrisy and her antiblackness: a post

I said I was going to make this post if @/saetoru ever showed her face on this app. And here we are now @ctrltoru-main

In January 2024, a tumblr thread exposing the now disgraced tumblr writer @/saintsugu was posted by an anonymous account named @/user-anon. User-anon exposed this man for engaging with shota art and art sexualizing ed. Other users came out and exposed more of his racially insensitive past as well as his problematic attitudes. The general public was against this behavior and it was a massive call out.

Good right? Problem solved. Let’s go home.

  Not even up to 3 days later, an account known as @/criticalthoughts came out. Now this account was different, because unlike everyone condemning @/saintsugu, this person came to his defense. As of now, @/criticalthoughts has deactivated and all their inflammatory works have disappeared into the abyss. All except one.

@/saetoru - currently now @/ctrltoru-main had reblogged the first ever post of @/critcialthoughts, which I am eternally grateful for, because now that debauchery is out here for us to see. Tee, an infamous tumblr who was disgraced out of the writing community and remains a pariah, had come out of the wood works to say something in defense of Ezra.

Now, I don’t need to introduce Tee or Ivory to you people. If you read this post you would know that Tee the disgraced one, is already, to put it nicely, a terrible person. Talking about her is like beating a dead horse. Except this one has refused to die in peace and actively inserts herself into spaces she isn’t needed in.

Now, if the above post by Emmie that I linked here isn’t enough to convince you on why Ivory/Tee should not be welcomed back to any community in tumblr, then I’m sure that her shitty defense for Ezra, the response to people calling her out for her shitty defense, Tee’s antiblackness and her cult of antiblack followers as well as her lack of regard for the genocide going on in her country - all which I am about to get into, will.

Tee/Ivory defending Ezra’s accusations: A summary

Now if you’re like me and you have a short attention span for bullshit, then you won’t want to read whatever nonsense came out from Tee on that post.

But for fairness sake, I’ve decided I'll link Tee’s arguments as I break them down one by one, before I get into what I want to say. You can choose if you want to read the post and the summary or you want to read only the summary.

Paragraph 1: Victims of assault know what a predator looks like.

As a victim of assault:

She has been silenced to pretend nothing is wrong.

She has experienced rape culture first hand.

She also asserts you have to see it with your own 2 eyes to know the real harm.

She implies that she knows the patterns of sexual predators.

Paragraph 2:

Premise (a): It is simply not logical to assert that Ezra is a pedo

Art so far (depicting Shotatoru. and shotadori. Shotagetou. Come on, I’m losing creative names for these) is the only proof of this claim.

People jumped into conclusions -allegedly- because of said content, as far as taking legal actions.She asserts that there is no connection of shota art to pedophilia.

Said shotatoru art is not enough evidence for pedophilia because it is fictional.

She also asserts that majority of the people who jumped into said conclusion acted on emotional impulse

Premise 2(b): People who did accuse Ezra of being a pedophile are acting selfishly.

Asserts that they are not real victims

Asserts that they do not listen to real victims like her.

Asserts that they do not listen to authorities who work on such cases.

Asserts that they are acting in their own sense of justice.

Paragraph 4:  Dark content is dark content

Dark content portrays a lot of themes we are uncomfortable with and it is made to explore topics without harming anyone.

Dark content is not used to determine moral standing

No dark content creator is in a place to judge Ezra or draw a line on morality. Simply because they create dark content.

Tee’s concluding points:

Emotions have led people to believe that Ezra finds gratification for such content.

She talks about not knowing what pedophilia is, as we are not real victims and disrespecting real victims. Again.

Calling Ezra a pedophile is hate speech. We have zero proof to harass him - No the shotadori art is not proof- that will stand in a courtroom.

We are driving people off this app and enabling hostility. Also Ezra’s anti-blackness is just a rumor.

The important thing is art is not pedophilia and pedophilia is not art.

My Analysis;

Let me first start by being empathetic to you Tee/Ivory, even if you don’t deserve it. I will never undermine your experience as a victim. As a survivor of CSA, I know that your lines on rape culture is true and real. It’s painful that you had to go through that and I feel empathy for you.

Grace period over.

If you didn’t read my paragraph summaries, I’ll just give you the gist of Tee’s post here.

“As a real victim of child sexual assault, Tee knows what a predator looks like, therefore, according to Tee’s judgement, accusing Ezra of being a pedophile is illogical because the content he viewed was not real CP. Those who label him as such are acting out of selfishness and their claims are invalid because they are not real victims. Also, dark content is too abstract to accuse someone of anything and no dark content creator has a right to draw a line.”

Ivory/ Tee does have a point here. We did jump the gun on calling Ezra a pedo. We just judged based on art, thinking that he’s a pedo for looking at and engaging in Shota art. She makes a good point by saying that we don’t know what we are talking about.

I’m very sure if we even check or compare the definition, it won’t even mean the same thing. There is no know connections of shotacon to pedophilia, even in real life court cases.

So, let’s educate ourselves on what pedophilia is, shall we?

If we look at the English definition, it defines pedophiles as: “A person aged 16 years old or older who is mostly or only sexually attracted toward prepubescent children. (by extension, common use) An adult who is sexually attracted to or engages in sexual acts with a child…”

And if we look at the definition of Shotacon: “A sexual complex where an adult is attracted to young, typically prepubescent boys, or the fictional depictions thereof.” or “hentai anime or manga, or other Japanese-inspired erotic art featuring young, usually prepubescent boys.”

“a fictional young boy character, especially one featured in such material. Typically drawn with exaggerated or stylised cute features.”

Wait a minute.

Let’s look at Wikipedia maybe they’ll give us a different definition: “Pedophilia is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent experiences a primary or exclusive sexual attraction to prepubescent children.”

Okay, US legal: “Pedophiles are people with a sexual attraction to children. Manifest acts, such as taking sexually explicit photographs, molesting children and exposing one's genitalia to children, are all crimes.”

Okay, okay, Britannica: “Pedophilia, in conventional usage, a psychosexual disorder, generally affecting adults, characterized by sexual interest in prepubescent children or attempts to engage in sexual acts with prepubescent children.”

Oh. By definition, every thing found on Ezra’s twitter account would qualify him -not just english wise but legally as a child-lover.

Okay, you can still argue that there are no real life accusations linking shotacon art to being a predator. Except, that’s not the case:

A particular case of a man in Virginia who was arrested for looking at shota/loli art. This was an added charge, to downloading CP in his hard drive and assaulting an 11 year old. He was supposed to be banned from the internet, but had used shota/loli as replacement for CP, thinking the authorities wouldn’t notice.

I could go on and on about cases linked to this, but then again I would again be beating a dead horse.

So Tee, you woke up. You took your device without doing ANY research. Came on tumblr.com and started to type a poorly researched, poorly thought out post in response to the bullshit @/criticitalthoughts posted.

Because if we stand by what you said about it not standing in court, we know that is bullshit. If Ezra stood before a law court today, he would register as a sex offender.

Now, let’s come down to you weaponizing your victimhood:

As you notice if you read what Tee said, you will notice phrases such as “As a real victim” “real victim like herself” “People who are outraged are not real victims”

You will also notice her little blurb about Dark content creators not being moral enough to draw a line.

There is actually a name for that behavior. It is known as Virtuous Victim Signaling. For those who don’t know, virtuous victim signaling is basically claiming victimhood whilst demonstrating a sense of moral superiority in order to gain approval or favor.

What Tee has effectively done in her blurb is not only state that those who had valid concerns about Ezra’s predatory fetishes are not real victims - most like myself are actually survivors, as well as condemn other dark content creators who are also majorly survivors, as hypocrites, she has also put herself in a sort of moral high ground as a “non bully” or “anti witch hunt”

By portraying herself as the only victim in this situation, she has stripped other survivors not only of their experiences, but also of any form of empathy or understanding we are meant to have for the survivors' concerns. This is not the first time Tee has exhibited this behavior, as we see when she is confronted with bullying accusations (that turned out to be true) and her turning it around to make it seem like she’s the one affected instead of taking any form of accountability.

And it’s funny how Tee/Ivory loves to talk about witch hunts and bullying when you are single-handedly responsible for pushing out four writers from this app with false accusations, lying on your friend about blackfishing, outing Emmie’s new account on your callout post -an account that was supposed to be private mind you, lying and subposting that people were copying your blog’s aesthetic and plagiarizing your fics, inciting death threats on your own mutuals, bullying a black muslim who called you out on defending Ezra’s actions and deflecting his situation and posting her account name so that people harass her.

You also mention something very interesting in your post Tee:

As far as I remember Tee/Ivory, you had a burner blog that you used to harrass your mutuals. You spread hate about your own mutuals. You sent death threats and encouraged your followers to send death threats to your own mutuals the moment their blog had traction.

You mean like how you spoke ill about Emmie who was your friend? Or how you dragged my mutual Nara on your page and called her Islamophobic? Or how your followers are doing the exact same thing and dropping into people's inboxes?

The problem with virtual victimhood signaling is that people like Tee can see themselves as a pinnacle of morality when everything they accuse others of is what they themselves are guilty of. Tee is perfect embodiment of 'every false accusation is a confession' literally.

Also, in terms of putting herself in a moral high ground, she mentions that dark content creators have no right to judge or draw a line. Which is not true, because if people at bizzarocon could draw a line at a guy fake SA a fully grown aborted fetus as shock value -and if you know bizzarocon you’ll know that they literally write ANYTHING taboo, then dark content creators can draw a line for the same reason.

Anything that involves a child, real or a likeness of a child, is where we draw the line.

(I recommend you read that article well, because Chandler's argument and Tee's argument correlate with each other)

Writing about things like noncon or dubcon is all about regaining a sense of control that was lost. It is all about what happens to the writer or to the the reader. It can even help to process their feelings and coming to terms with cnc kinks. It can serve to bring awareness. It can even make people uncomfortable. It depends.

No dark content is more palatable than the other Tee.

And we are not crazy for all agreeing that shota art is wrong.

What does shota or loli content give? What is the intent behind wanting to put vulnerable children in sexual positions with you an adult as an aggressor? Think about it.

Using being a CSA victim and mentioning Ezra’s case of of being a CSA victim does not absolve Ezra from what he did or justify his attraction towards the likeness prepubescent kids. There are many CSA victims that grow up and repeat the same thing again because instead of vowing not to repeat or inflict harm on kids like they did to them, they use their victimhood as an excuse, a shield to perpetuate the same harm on others. Your kind of rhetoric is what a lot of pedophiles and MAP use to justify their actions.

It is sick. It is twisted. It is evil. 

You do not get to undermine or silence other survivors’ outrage just because of your personal beliefs Tee. You don’t get to strip them off their survivor status. You are not the only ‘real’ victim and you do not get to speak for us or over us. Using your experience to undermine anyone else's is simply unacceptable Tee. You had absolutely no right

Tee’s racism and racial insensitivity:

If you follow any black writer on here, you would know how many have left due to racism.

You will also know that black writers in the anime community face intense racism for simply existing in a predominantly nonblack space. We are treated like nobodies, told to our faces that our faves would hate black women. We are called slurs in our inboxes, told our pussies are burnt and smelly just to name a few.

When we talk about how we are not represented in fics we are bashed and when we do write x black reader fics we are criticized intensely.

This is what black writers have to face on this app. Every. Single. Day. An app that is supposed to be our safe space and sanctuary.

When the Ezra allegations came out, a lot of black women came out and reiterated that while they were in the same server with him, Ezra had called black women’s hair nappy and then said “it was a joke” and in return these women had to leave because the server members defended Ezra.

Not just one. Not two. About 5+ black women came out to say this. Word for word.

And I’ve spoke to a few who had evidence of what he had done and how they were treated horribly.

Now Tee/Ivory thought it was a good idea to not only discredit victims of Ezra’s antiblackness but call them “rumors” and witch hunts. And when confronted about what she said about it by my mutual, she put words in my mutual’s mouth by saying she is linking pedophilia to antiblackness.

I don’t need to tell you that speaking over a black woman and putting words in her mouth is racially insensitive and also a form of racial violence. I’m sure you know this Tee.

Then Tee derailed the topic into talking about palestine. Something Tee convinently only brings up when confronted with her bullshit. Something that Tee never EVER talks about or reblogs on her account.

You can go check the only posts in tumblr Tee has opened her mouth to say anything about palestine if it is not her avoiding responsibility for bullying and false accusations. Not once did you see her post about the boycott divestment week that was happening THAT WEEK. or the strike that we were not meant to post anything that wasn’t pro-palestine.

Not only that, when my mutual rightly called her out for using the Islam card (virtuous victim signalling AGAIN) to hide behind the fact that she was defending a pedophile, and yes smut is against the Hadith. You don’t get to pick or choose what is a sin or not, especially when your fellow muslim sister is speaking to you. Tee wrongly accused her of islamophobia, posted her account for her followers to send her racial slurs. Tee never clarified or apologized to her for anything that happened right after.

Let’s not mention how this is also a textbook example of antiblackness in the Islamic community which you just perpertuated there. Tee’s behavior, silence and tolerance of antiblackness from her followers also shows where she stands.

Also, Tee you are a horrible person for weaponizing your loved ones and the ongoing genocide to shield yourself from criticism. You only care or mention it when people are rightfully airing you out for your lies. How dare you. You are sick. You are sick for encouraging your follower to incite violence on a black woman. You are sick for accusing a black muslim woman of islamophobia and you are very sick for hiding behind Islam to propagate horrible ideaologies.

Then again, you are only a poc when it benefits you. Your activism starts and ends with using it as a shield when faced with valid criticism about your actions.

In conclusion:

Why did I make this post? Is it to call Tee/Ivory out?

No.

It is a reminder. This is is the kind of person Tee is. She will silence another voice that isn’t hers and hers alone. And the fact she even came back and started writing on this app again is disapponting. Yes, many people would see what she did as just ‘drama’ but her bullying, threatening, silencing of surviviors, antiblackness and using a genocide as a shield for valid criticism will never be drama to me. It is real. These are issues that bleed out in real life.

At the core of your heart Tee/Ivory, this is who you truly are:

Bragging about how you’re in a different tax bracket on site that says eat the rich and means it, is ironic. Calling people brain dead and jobless for saying that you should take accountability - most of us who are actually accomplished - in fact far more accomplished than you will ever be Tee and far more talented and humble compared to you- is embarrassing.

You and your fans can keep spewing out slurs like it’s a tuesday morning Tee/Ivory.

You want to complain about hostility after witch hunting and kicking out better writers from this app? People that were your moots who cared about you? You want to complain about hostility when you outed Emmie’s new account? Or when you let your followers harrass Nara? Or how you had a hate account bullying and mocking your fellow writers? Or you single handedly making everywhere so toxic that your ex moots had to deactivate?

You?

You’re the cause of the hostility. You. You. You. 

The JJK fandom is not missing anything with you gone. Don’t come back until you apologize to everyone you hurt with your actions. And if you like, delete your account and make a different one. Change your name. We will still know it’s you at your core. You'll can never change who you really are and this behaviour will forever stain your reputation in the fandom circle.

[merp-blerp]

So Claudia Cacace recently posted her last Be More Chill animatic and said in the pinned comment that she had wanted to stop a long time ago when people gave her bad attention; it made me think about how animatic creators at the height of the musical theater fandom were treated horribly, despite being the backbone of that fandom for the longest time. For example, I remember people used to give Mushroomie/Mushie r crap about how they were “copying” Szin’s art style, which is literally impossible. A lot of people in the fandom were clearly inspired my Szin’s artwork because she was one of the most popular artists in the fandom at the time and her art was indeed really good. You can’t “copy” an art style. And when Szin announced that she wasn’t going to make Hamilton animatics anymore “fans” were calling her a liar among other awful things because she had said in a now private (or maybe deleted) Q&A video that she had wanted to do all the songs, despite that fact that she also said in that same video that she was going to keep making Hamilton animatics as long as they were fun for her, which they has ceased to be by the time she had finished Act 1 and a bit of Act 2. It had been years, disinterest naturally happens and that’s okay. There were a lot of animatic creators who stopped for the same reason; animatic creating had stopped being fun for these artist and began to be more like a job rather than the hobby it started out as. Remember most of these creators were making these animatics alone and possibly without much if any pay from YouTube. And on top of that a lot of these creators were minors at the time! They likely had other obligations in life like school and family, not able to have time for a job, let alone a very time consuming, demanding, solo job. Not to mention all the other things these creators had to deal with, like making content in a timely manner so the algorithm didn’t abandon them, or YouTube’s shitty fair use system constantly threatening to copyright claim or strike videos and even entire channels in some cases like Mushroomie. If you were in the musical theater fandom around 2016-2019 you know how important animatics were. Pro-shots were even more rarely made than they are now (like pretty much never), and bootlegs of then-currently running shows stayed up online for only a few days or weeks if you were lucky, so a lot of fans had no way of legally seeing the show(s), and sometimes not even illegally. A lot of people who loved these musicals would love a show for it’s music, but had no clue what the full plot was out of a lack of being able to access the show in an affordable way, affordability still being an issue with Broadway today. So animatics were very vital to people getting at least an idea of how these shows visually looked and an opportunity for artist to do something they loved. This was how people got to see their favorite show in away that YouTube couldn’t (fairly) take down. Quite noticeably, when these animatic creators almost collectively stopped making animatics for these musicals or slowed down around 2019, the fandom fizzled out as well, or at least changed. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t dead like some believe in my opinion, but it’s definitely different. In one way, now that a lot of the most popular shows from this time and others have some kind of pro-shot or shitty movie adaptation, and YouTube being a lot more lose with bootlegs then they used to be, animatics aren’t as vital, but their importance shouldn’t be something to sneeze at and it blows that these animatic creators weren’t treated with the utmost respect they deserved at the height of their popularity. I know I’m pulling an old issue out of the grave and this issue is essential gone, with animatics being made at a less frequent rate than they were at the time, but I’ve never seen this talked about in length. If any animatic creators, currently active or not, are reading this, I hope you continue to enjoy you creations and that people respect you as they should.

[maoam]

Ramblings stemming from frustration with this fandom sometimes. ( Naruto. )

I know Naruto fandom has always been a tad toxic ever since it started becoming popular and such, but something about these newer fans who are so comfortable with d3ath threats, body shaming, sa threats, and d0xxing other people for the sake of a character. Fandom discourse is truly never that serious and the fact that they’ve become so obsessed with “ratioing” or “owning” other people that they’re willing to say absolutely vile things all for what… some likes? Validation from other gross people?

And then for these people to still say they’re the “good part of the fandom” or “the sane part”. It’s almost narcissistic for lack of a better word at the moment. ( not diagnosing anyone or speaking as if I’m some sort of mental health expert. Just can’t think of another word right now because of the headache this phenomenon is causing me as it is becoming much too common. )

They have this obsession with demonizing “the other side.” To the point of making false claims, which is insane. Or maybe they actually believe them? I can’t tell. They just spread whatever makes them feel good about what they like and don’t care about the source.

This is mainly a lame annoyed rant about the Hinata fanbase which have become somehow even worse within the past few days with their weird obsession with trying to get the Boruto artist (I think he works for sp? Unsure as he says most of his art is fanart but he made a like two or three official pieces that were on the official boruto/naruto page.) fired and sending him death threats for I guess just not drawing Hinata as much as they want? Like to the point where they were literally saying she was being “oppressed and bullied” by this artists. It was insane to see in person because you really would like to believe people WOULDNT compare a character not being drawn in a way they approve of to the oppression the people of Palestine are facing but hey, I suppose it’s a competition now to see how much of a bad person you can be for the sake of a character.

Also I know this is not just an issue in the hinata fandom, although the recent need to fetishize how “Asian Hinata is compared to that white girl sakura.” Is irking me a lot more than what other fandoms have done as of recent that I’m aware of. The Sakus seem to be their usual level of delusion and crappy attitude. Which is easy to ignore for me.

Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point? Because as I’m writing this I’m seeing just how insane this really is. This *shouldn’t* be real. This *shouldn’t* be things people say without shame. And yet, people just throw their morals for… what, internet points? The self validation that they defended to their favorite character? Who knows.

You might not even read this, I wouldn’t blame you lol. Just me being annoyed with how comfortable people within the naruto fandom have become so comfortable with being bad people.

My only real question is have you noticed an increase of toxicity within the fandom? Do you think this behavior has gotten worse with the ending of Naruto and beginning of Boruto?

I kinda get what you mean. I remember even before the manga ended there was apparently aggressive fights between Narusaku/Naruhina shippers, like the body shaming towards the other ship's girl and so on. And SS also were aggressive. But nowadays it indeed seems worse. I'm not sure if it's because we have new big platforms? Twitter and Tiktok I mean, both have really cancerous fandom spaces.

SS/NH harass official staff all the time, as well as other parts of the fandom. And then they act like victims because some people think Sakura and Hinata are shitty characters lol. Meanwhile they treat real people like shit. I think it might be because everyone makes fun of their ships/girls all the time, because it's so easy, so they become even crazier in trying to compensate, they try to harass the staff for more content for their ship, to get back at the people who say their ships suck. Also because so many popular content creators keep making content on Naruto and Sasuke being gay and Sakura/Hinata being their beards it's also humiliating to them.

Of course, they also need to fight which girl is the best girl. Which girl is less of a single mother for example. XD

"Or maybe they actually believe them?" Considering how many SS have convinced themselves that some moments that happened between Naruto and Sasuke actually happened between Sasuke and Sakura, I can believe them being that delusional.

"Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point?" No because I have witnessed it myself, plenty Sakura and Hinata stans on twitter have that toxic "bad bitch" attitude that they think makes them queens or whatever, they harass people and are extremely aggressive and think female character doing the bare minimun = queen behaviour. It comes off as very childish and narcissistic. No wonder Sakura and Hinata as characters appeal to them.

[2chopsticks2eyes]

What You Deserve: Part 1

This is part 1 of a three part series, please be sure to start from part one!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: All parts are ~67k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, mentions of non-con, PTSD, Anxiety, Alcohol, Cussing, Come Eating, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, References to Drugs, Drug Dealing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Eating Disorders, Childhood Trauma, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex

Summary: After unfortunate circumstances, you pack up and move to Korea with your best friend Bang Chan to attend college. After falling into Chan's group of friends he had established, you find yourself getting a little too close to the mild tempered and snarky Lee Minho.

Author's Note: I am probably spoiling the whole story with the warnings, but I like to be safe. I originally was only on AO3, but I wanted to link platforms with Tumblr and Twitter too. Hope you enjoy!

________________________________________

Part One: Moving On

None of them had ever treated you any differently than the rest of the group. Even though you’re a girl, to them, you were always considered ‘one of the guys’ and you were grateful that being the only girl among a group of 8 boys never made things stupidly awkward. Picture fucking perfect, really. Although, this was mostly thanks to Bang Chan, your best friend and self proclaimed little brother.

You had met Chan in primary school and grew up with him all the way to Newtown High School of the Performing Arts way back when he still lived in Australia. You two were extremely close, you were even considered as a sister to him within his family with how much time you spent hanging out with him. Everyone always called him Christopher or Chris, but with as much time you spent around his family, you got accustomed to calling him Chan. After all, you were closer to his family than you ever were to your own due to your hapless home situation. If you had one choice in life, it would be to jet the hell straight out to anywhere but there, but reality isn’t that kind.

Your mom and dad fought round the clock, no matter what time or day, you couldn’t remember a day where they hadn’t fought. It didn’t help that they were constantly shooting cocaine and getting blackout drunk any chance they got, making it virtually impossible for them to hold a job. This kept them in constant poverty and living in a shitty one bedroom apartment, making you have to crash on the couch or Chan's place. All the money they made from dealing was used to either buy even more drugs and alcohol or to gamble. You consider yourself lucky that you didn’t have any siblings that would have to subject themselves to that shit lifestyle.

They used you mostly to transfer drugs and collect money, subjecting you to the most seedy situations that a teenager should never have to deal with. You had to learn major self defense tactics in case things had gone awry, which happened to be often. You didn’t have a choice though. It was mostly your father that had threatened to subject you to unspeakable scenarios - that you’d rather not think of - if you didn’t cooperate.

Chan never once judged you, even when he first found out, even when you confided in him, even when you begged for him not to tell anyone, he was always there for you. Whether you were kicked out of the house for a day or your dad had beat you again, he was always there to help you get through it. He definitely worried about you though, especially when he saw that you had to skip out on school lunch again due to lack of money or he discovered you had even more bruises. He didn’t realize that you had caught him staring at your protruding ribs on the days you went swimming at his house.

His family was fairly wealthy. Actually, disgustingly wealthy. How someone so popular and loaded chose you to be his best friend would forever be an unknown mystery. But you always refused his help when he offered, you hated feeling like you owed anyone anything despite his insistence that you didn’t have to pay back. You were raised to believe there is no such thing as free help.

The only time you had involuntarily accepted his help was when you had passed out in class from lack of energy. He had dragged your tiny, malnourished ass to the nurse and bought you more food than you had eaten in days. He chewed you out for weeks for letting yourself get to that state. 

He really was too good for this world. He was the only beacon of light in your life.

However, your entire sense of happiness was demolished when he had decided to go up to Korea for college to grow in music production. He wanted to stay because he knew you weren’t safe, but - even though it tore you to pieces - you insisted he follow his dreams.

You were studying dance at the time, however you had given up hope for any chance of going to college due to lack of funds. You were a year older than Chan, so once you graduated, you at least still got to hold on to your best friend for a moment longer before he moved. Even if that year was filled with you working three jobs only to pay for ‘your share of the living expenses’ to your parents and to save up enough money to get the hell out of there.

The farewell with Chan was the hardest thing you had done up to that point. Harder than being beaten to a pulp by your dad. Harder than being told by your parents that you should go kill yourself. Even harder than not eating for three days.

You talked and video chatted almost every day, but that still didn’t fill the ache of missing him. Before he left you rarely cried, numb to your whole fucked up situation. But after, you had cried yourself to sleep almost every night, trying to escape the nightmare that had made its home in your life. This continued for four whole years. On the nights you were kicked out of the house again, Chan's family would still welcome you with open arms. Most friends would have drifted apart and lost connection, but not you and Chan, nor his parents. You were family.

One night, when everyone was asleep, your dad had walked into the living room and woke you up from the couch. To say you were surprised to see him pointing a gun at you would be quite the fucking understatement. He smelt like piss and enough alcohol to make him at least 80 proof.

“If you make a single fucking noise, I will shoot that worthless, ugly cumdump of a mouth of yours.”

You were frozen from his words, and in your half-asleep daze, you were extremely muddled. That was until he made his intentions painfully clear when he straddled you and took the hand that wasn’t holding the gun and started to desperately pull off your sleep shorts. Your skin turned to ice and your gut felt like a ton of bricks dropped through your ass. You started to squirm in attempts to get him to stop, but he just painfully pinned your hands under his knees on each side of your hips and held the cold metal barrel of the gun to your temple.

“Don’t fucking move you stupid slut.” He spat his venom on your face and you had to restrain yourself from vomiting on the spot.

At this point, the tears were streaming down your face and you felt like a complete dumbass in distress disorder. “Dad, please s-stop…” You sob in the quietest voice you could muster. He promptly backhanded the side of the barrel over your right cheek with a blinding amount of force and your vision was momentarily clouded with white hot searing pain. He returned the gun to your head and you could feel the warm, sticky substance of blood drip from your cheekbone. He gave you a final warning look that sent a crippling sense of fear down your spine and then continued what he was doing.

Your eyes kept scanning your surroundings looking for anything that could help you escape. The only opportunity you saw was when your demon of a father had pulled your shorts and panties down to your knees and started shoving his hand into your bone dry pussy painfully . You felt humiliated and violated, but you used his distracted state to promptly knee him as hard as you could in his dirty, perverted balls.

The man shrieked like a fucking banchee as he dropped the gun to cup the rattled testicles in his hands. You quickly retrieved the firearm and ran to the front door, yanking your bottoms up in the meantime. You had always kept your backpack fully stocked by the front door in preparation of the days that you were briefly thrown out. You were silently praising God that you had kept that habit as you grabbed it and bolted out of the apartment, your father screaming limping after you. You heard the sound of his quickly fading stomping as you rounded the corner and hauled ass out of sight, ensuring to leave no trace of your whereabouts.

You ran faster than you had ever run in your life, not even stopping to look back. You didn’t know where you were running to, you just ran where your feet took you. It wasn’t much of a shocker that your feet took you to the only place you ever knew as a safe haven. You had apparently run five miles at one in the morning to find yourself standing at the door of the Bang residence.

You had probably rang the doorbell around twenty times before the exhaustion hit you and you dropped to your knees on the pavement, the gun laying at your side on the ground. It took a few minutes, probably due to waking them up, but the door finally opened to a very bewildered Mr. and Mrs. Bang. You instantly threw yourself into their arms and let out loud, choked sobs, clinging onto them for dear life. You were finally home.

- - - - - - - - - -

After explaining everything to them, not only about that night, but every grizzly detail of your entire family situation, they refused to let you go back home, fearing for your safety. You tried to refuse, but they eventually forced you to tell Chan. 

Tell Chan? The man already had a full fledged death wish for your father! And they expected you to tell him as if you were giving an update on the crisp Australian weather? Well this should be fun...

It would take all but the convincing of God to keep him from reporting him. You could already tell a shit storm was waiting on the other end of that dial tone.

It was probably the most emotional phone call you had ever had with him and he was so damn ballistic that he was about to hop on a flight home to come ‘kill that motherfucker’. It took some desperate convincing and ass kissing to change his mind.

You stayed with the Bangs for about a week - staying in Chan’s old room - before Chan’s mom and dad sat down to have a serious talk with you. This is it. You thought. They are going to tell me to find somewhere else to live. You hadn’t saved enough money from your jobs yet to find a place because just about everything you had earned went directly to your parents. You were hardly prepared to start sleeping in cardboard boxes and panhandling.

Mrs. Bang let out a big sigh and rested her hand on your knee. “Dear, you already know that we have always considered you a part of this family. We love you and we want to keep you safe.” The tears started welling up in your eyes and you looked down at your restless hands to hide your face. Fucking why emotions? “And to keep you safe, you can’t stay here any longer.” You couldn’t help the uncontrollable shakiness that came over you, wrecking your body with silent sobs.

“That is why…” Chan’s father held your hand. “...we are going to send you to go to school with Chan in Korea. If anyone can protect you and be there for you, it’s him.” You craned your head up with wide eyes.

“W-what…?” You just sat there looking at them with a frozen, gobsmacked look. Nowhere in your mind had you expected that. It was certifiably insane.

“Well, we know how much you wanted to go with him and how distraught you were when he left. Only now, we know just how deeply that fear was grounded. We had no idea you were going through all of that, sweetie…” Chan’s mom held your other hand and you saw that she, too, had tears rolling down her graceful features.

“N-no… no no no! I can’t do that! I can’t afford it! Please I–” You couldn’t hold back the hyperventilation that was formed by your tits-for-brain emotions.

Mr. Bang cut you off. “You don’t need to worry about that, we just need to do what’s best for you Y/N. And there is no use arguing with us, we have discussed this thoroughly and our decision is final.” His voice was stern and his expression set in stone.

You were gasping back your sobs. “I-I-I c-can’t–” One hundred percent ugly crying, no doubt about it.

Chan’s mom enveloped you in a tight hug. “Please Y/N! We wouldn't be able to live with ourselves if we let you stay anywhere near that hellhole. You deserve a better life than this, sweet girl, and we love you as our own. Please do this for us.” You hugged her back and sobbed into her shoulder violently.

“If it makes you feel better…” Chan’s dad said from the side of your vision. “...you can pay us back with monthly payments. Would that make you feel better about this?” Chan’s mom sat up and lightly slapped his arm.

“Honey! I don’t want her to have to worry about th–”

“Yes! That would make me feel much better.” You interjected her protest eagerly. “If this is something I have to do, I would much prefer not to do it for free.” You had been backed into a sticky, bittersweet corner and you needed to make rational decisions.

They smiled at you. “And you won’t even have to worry about that until you find a job, or if you can’t pay at any point in time, please don’t worry about it.”

You meekly nodded and looked down at the frayed edges of Chan’s sweatshirt that enveloped you, stretching the worn out fabric and releasing it to watch the way the fibers scrunched together again. “I really don’t know what I can do to thank you guys… I really don’t deserve you two…”

“Oh enough of that!” You received another hug from Mrs. Bang. “You deserve every wonderful thing in this world and more.” You sat back and looked at your newly self proclaimed parents and smiled, tears never once stopping as you were overwhelmed with how surreal everything felt. You would finally be free.

- - - - - - - - - -

You were extremely grateful that you grew up learning Korean from Chan and his family because if you hadn’t, you would look like an utter dinktwat in this country. You weren’t perfect, but you figured you would learn fairly quickly from constant exposure.

You squinted your eyes as you tried to see past the hustle and bustle of the busy airport, looking for the right face. Finally, you saw a hand raise up to wave at you across the sea of faces. You looked down to the owner of the hand and there he was, your dirty blonde haired beacon of light, smiling brilliantly at you with his deep-dimpled grin. You instinctively pushed past the barrier of bodies and threw yourself into his arms, burying your face into his warm, familiar scent. You could hear him lightly chuckle at you as you were squeezed tightly.

“Hey my little Kiyomi. I’ve missed you so much” You teared up as you smiled into the crook of his neck. You had always loved the nickname him and his family gave you. They had told you it basically meant cutie or a cute person in Korean and, at first, you laughed at the name, but now it was as natural as saying your actual name.

“I’ve missed you too Channie… so much.” He held you tighter momentarily before letting you go. He stared at you with a sad smile on his face, caressing his thumb over the large, scabbed gash on your cheekbone. He gave it a small peck and smiled down at you.

“You ready to go home?” The words sounded weird coming from Chan’s mouth, but you nodded earnestly in reply. He grabbed your luggage from you and slung you over his other shoulder, ignoring your protests and turning to push past the onlooking travelers while you laughed and covered your face in embarrassment.

- - - - - - - - - -

When Chan opened the door to the three bedroom condo, you took in the surroundings of the area that already looked three or four times the size of your previous apartment. It had a narrow entryway with a coat closet on your left with an area to leave your shoes. You saw a pair of white fluffy slippers with a sticker bow placed haphazardly on top like a present and you smirked back at your new roommate. “Housewarming gift?” Chan said with an awkward smile. You just chuckled at him and plucked the bow off to stick on the middle of his forehead, making him scoff, and you slipped on your comfy new slippers.

You took a step inside and saw a wall on your left with three doors lined along it, slightly ajar, to show a couple of bedrooms and a bathroom in between. To your right, there was the living room adorned with a couch, a loveseat, and a lounge chair surrounding a coffee table. An unnecessarily large TV sat atop a table scattered with various video game consoles and anime figurines in front of it all. Walking further in, the living room was attached to an open-floor planned kitchen lined across the back wall with a large, granite counter island separating the rooms diagonally with a small dining table pressed to the wall on the right. 

The floors were completely dark hardwood minus the kitchen, bathrooms, and bedrooms. The bedrooms with plush, off white carpet and the bathrooms and kitchen with sleek, stone tile. You walked in a little further to peer into the open doors and, at the end of the wall that held the bedrooms, there was a door holding a huge utility room with a washer, dryer, and wash basin for the laundry. The condo was fucking unbelievable. Sure as hell too nice for your impoverished ass.

There was a single closed door on the wall to the left of the TV, between the living room and dining area. “Now, don’t argue with me, because I already know that you will. But Felix and I already decided that you deserve the master bedroom because you need your own bathroom. He said something like ‘A lady needs her own space’. If only he knew how un-ladylike you really are, he might have rephrased that.” Chan rolled his eyes, using air quotes for effect.

You scoffed at him and shoved his shoulder with a fond smile. I mean he wasn’t wrong per-se. “Chan… Chan. You do realize I’ve never needed my own room, right? As far as I’m concerned, you could make me sleep on the washroom floor and I’d be down-right giddy.”

He threw his head back and let out a hardy laugh. “Maybe if you’re in one of your bitchy moods, I will. But no, that’s just even more reason you need that bedroom. You need to be able to have some sense of normalcy. Plus, since you don’t exactly have many belongings, I already decked out your room with all of your favorite things.” He raised his head slightly to the ceiling with a smug face and his fists on his hips, looking like the proud little brother he was.

“Damnit Chan! I told you not to spend money on me!” Another harsh punch to his shoulder.

“Ow! Get over it! If I want to give my best friend a present, I’m going to do what I want! And stop hitting me, you fucking ogre!”

Much to your dismay, your eyes got watery again. You honestly didn’t know what you did in your past life to deserve this man. “Damnit Chan, stop making me be an emotional bitch baby…” You quickly wiped away an escaped tear. He didn’t say anything, he just wrapped you in one of his big bear hugs.

When he let you go, he wiped away your tears and grabbed your luggage again. “C’mon, let me show you your new room!”

When you walked in, the edge of the ceiling was lined with fairy lights, bathing the room in a soft glow. This was punctuated with a large salt rock lamp sitting atop a beautiful antique nightstand. Thankfully not everything was super grand or expensive looking, just a simple wooden desk with a chair and bed frame with an ornately carved headboard, both painted white.

It was only when you walked into the master bathroom that your jaw dropped. There was a large vanity stretching all the way down the length of the wall with two sinks attached to the left of the room and a separate jet tub and standing shower. There was a partition wall hiding the toilet and the far wall had the most massive closet you had ever seen.

The closet was filled with all sorts of women’s clothing. Ranging anywhere from formal attire to loungewear. You turned to Chan with a bone-chilling glare. “Chan, what the actual fuck is this?”

He hid behind the luggage he was still holding as if to protect himself. “That’s part two to your gift. Trust me, I know your tastes.” You looked inside one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of black lace panties and held them between two fingers to show them to Chan with an incredulous look on your face. “Okay okay that was NOT me! That was Lix! He supposedly wears that kind of stuff for Hyunjin all the time so he volunteered to shop for the… um… delicates?”

You rolled your eyes and covered your face with your hands. As you moved on, your eyes continued to roam the area as you made your way back to the living room, claiming the lounge chair. “By the way, where is Felix? I want to meet this other Aussie boy.”

“Ah.” The brunette rubbed the back of his neck. ”He said that you would probably be overwhelmed once you got in so he went to hang out with the guys until a little later tonight so you could get accustomed.”

Ah, yes. The notorious group of boys that Chan had befriended over the years that he has been gone. He had talked about each and every one of them several times and you really already felt like you already knew them, despite actually meeting them. “Oh yeah, the guys, yours and Felix’s friends from Uni right?”

“Yeah, but Jisung and Changbin also work with me at Eunsincheo.” You vaguely recalled Chan mentioning this. The word meant ‘The Hideaway’. It was a music and reading lounge where he spent his days serving shitty coffee and organizing small performances for up-and-coming artists. It really was a cool gig, and he absolutely loved it. He said he could get you on the team, but you wanted to find your own job without all the help that he was already giving you.

“Nice. When will I be introduced? I want to meet the guys that are competing for my best friend spot.” 

Chan scoffed from his spot on the couch. “Psh, as if there is any competition. I’m afraid you, Kiyomi, are stuck with me.”

“Awww little baby Channie. You’re so sweet!” You leaned over and gave him an annoying pinch on the cheek.

“Okay okay, that’s enough of that! As for meeting the boys, we didn’t think it was a good idea for you to meet them on your first day here. They can be a little… overwhelming…”

“Well that just makes me want to meet them more! I need to start my socializing skills to get used to the language. Can’t we all go out for dinner or something? I want some authentic Korean food and see if it rivals your mom’s cooking.”

“Okay, first of all, nothing rivals her cooking. And secondly, I’ll have to message them and see if they are all up for it.” 

“Great! While you do that, I’m going to go shower and see how much of a trainwreck you made of my wardrobe.” You heard a small ‘hey!’ as you wormed your way into your room. You laughed behind your closed doors and let out a big sigh, looking at your own room and feeling as if you were dreaming. After 23 years of your life living in hell, all of it was really too good to be true.

- - - - - - - - - -

You decided, since you were just going to a simple bar and hot pot place, you opted for some ripped blue jeans, a Totoro t-shirt, and some checkered Vans. You pulled your hair up into a half ponytail and just lightly brushed on a natural shade of eyeshadow and mascara to the corners of your eyes as best as you could since you weren't accustomed to wearing makeup. You tried desperately to hide the wound on your cheek with concealer, failing gloriously and inadvertently huffing in frustration.

As you and Chan neared the restaurant, you could hear a rambunctious bunch from the front of a small, humble building. “Ah, sounds like the band of misfits are already here.” Chan said before you could even see the patio. For some reason, you could feel the nerves bubble up inside you. Partly because your Korean was extremely rusty, but also because you desperately wanted Chan’s friends to accept you like the insecure chicken-shit you were.

“Do you all always have to disturb the peace wherever we go?” Chan spoke loudly over the loud group of boys once the two of you stepped onto the small patio that the men invaded. The group went silent and turned their attention toward you, making your heart fall out of your ass.

You gave a deep bow and pulled out the most confident Korean words you could muster. “Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. Lovely to meet you all.” You cringed at yourself and Chan sputtered out a laugh, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth when you glared daggers back at him. You could feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment, but then several of the men stood up with smiles on their faces to come and greet you.

The first one was skinny with a shaggy, but surprisingly stylish bleached mullet and cute freckles that scattered across his cheeks and nose like stardust. He had a grin that spread across his entire face, making his eyes disappear behind his blinding, sunshine smile. He unexpectedly enveloped you in a hug. “OHMYGOD HI! I’m Felix! I've been SO FUCKING EXCITED to meet you! You will probably hear some of the guys call me Lee Yongbok, but that's just my Korean name. You can call me whatever you like!”

“Good to finally meet you!” You hugged him back and released with a warm smile. You instantly felt warm in his presence and you already knew you would be fast friends.

“I’m so glad you wanted to meet everyone today! I’m going to bake some cookies in the morning to welcome you as our new roommate. I know we will be best friends in no time!” He had a thick Australian accent as he spoke in English and you couldn’t help but smile in his presence.

“Hey!” Chan shoved the smaller boy away from you. “The best friend position is already taken! Find your own!”

“Jealous much?” You smirked up at Chan who just rolled his eyes at you petulantly.

The next boy walked up to wrap his arm around Felix. He was slightly taller than the rest and he was also fairly lean, but his arms were very toned. He had long black hair that he had tied in a half ponytail. His face was incredibly beautiful with plump lips and a beauty mark underneath his left eye, surely making even the coldest hearts swoon. He slightly bowed his head and squeezed Felix to his side. He started to speak in very broken English. “Hello, my name is Hwang Hyunjin. It is nice to meet you. I am Felix’s boyfriend. My uhhhmm… my English is not… too good?” He said it as if it were a question, as if he didn’t know if what he said was correct or not. Cute.

You decided that you should start to try and speak Korean to the group so they would feel more comfortable. Confidence is key right? “Nice to meet you as well, Hyunjin. I suspect I will be seeing a lot more of you now that I live with your boyfriend.” You waggled your eyebrows at Felix and that seemed to lighten the tension in the air as everyone started chortling.

The two headed back to their seats as a short, muscular (more like completely ripped) man with black hair walked up to offer a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Seo Changbin. Chan-hyung talks about you non-stop, he’s been giddy like a school-girl for the past week waiting for you to get here.” The two of you turned and smirked at the dirty blonde Aussie, his ears slowly reddening.

“Shut it, bada kokkili.” Your confused look indicated you had no clue what the fuck that meant. Chan smirked at you knowingly. “Walrus. He hates it when we call him that.” You giggled behind your hand and Changbin punched Chan’s arm.

“Please tell me you’re nothing like this asshole?” Changbin said to you as he kept glaring at Chan.

“No, he wishes he was as badass as me.” You shrugged with a matter-of-fact look on your face.

“Have I subjected myself to a life full of verbal attacks by introducing you guys?”

“Hmmmm, yes. But you still love me.” You smiled smugly up at Chan and he poked his tongue out at you like a child.

You heard someone clear their throat next to you and you turned to see a doe eyed boy with round cheeks and a sharp jaw bone. His frame consisted of a broad chest that tapered down to a teeny tiny waist. “Oh! You must be Han Jisung!” He looked at you with an astounded expression and you realized it was probably weird how you came to that conclusion. You nervously scratched behind your ear. “Oh, sorry. Chan had told me that you looked like a quokka so I kind of assumed…”

“Hah! I can’t believe you got it right with that description!” Changbin guffawed from where he had left to sit at the table. 

“Well unfortunately your assumption was correct. I had just hoped he would have described me by my stunning good looks instead.” He gave you a huge, cheesy grin and stood proudly, his mousy brown hair swaying slightly. You giggled at him and accepted his offer for a hug. He was so fucking adorable that you wanted to stuff him in your pocket and keep him.

“Okay okay, out of the way.” The quokka was pushed aside by another animal looking man. This one, for some reason, looked incredibly like a puppy. You almost cooed at how adorable the boy was. He had fluffy brown hair like Jisung's and he was fairly tall as well. “I’m Kim Seungmin, I would run now before you subject yourself to this awful group of human beings.” He spoke in fairly good English and you laughed at his statement. 

“Did you say that in English so they wouldn’t protest?” You said amusedly.

“Maybe, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugged and retreated back to his seat.

The next one was obviously younger than the rest, even if he stood taller than Chan. He had eyes like a fox and dimples deep enough to swim in. He was a bit timid as he shook his black hair out of his eyes. “I’m Yang Jeongin–”

“Baby Bread!” Hyunjin yelled across the table.

Jeongin glared back at him. “Anyway, nice to meet you.” He bowed and went to sit down.

That just left the man still sitting at the opposite end of the table.

“Min, come meet Y/N.”

The man looked up from his phone and you could feel his eyes pierce through your soul. He sighed dejectedly and stood up, walking slowly over to you like a cat stalking its prey. He was fairly tall and his movements flowed like water. He had intimidating cat-like eyes and cheekbones you could cut yourself on. His fiery, orange-red hair glowed warmly in the dim outside lighting, black leather jacket complimenting his entire look. He offered a muscular, veiny hand out to shake, which you timidly shook. This beautiful man’s presence intimidated you without reason.

You only marginally started to relax when he offered a small halfass smile and when he spoke, it punctuated his cute overbite. But as quick as it came, it left, leaving him with a bored face. “I’m Lee Minho. Hopefully you will adjust soon enough.” You watched as his eyes flit to the cut on your cheek and you slightly lowered your head in embarrassment. Without another word, he headed back to his seat. You wondered what you had done to put his panties in a twist until Chan threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him. He only cares about eating, sleeping, and Han Jisung.” The boys laughed at the redhead while you and Chan took your seats as well.

“Oh, are you two also a couple?” You genuinely asked the two boys at the other end of the long table who just stared at you with dumbfounded looks. They looked at each other momentarily, then burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs while cackling, the rest of the group following in the laughter. You just sat in the chaos, wondering if you missed some sort of joke. Your eyes scanned over to Minho’s laugh and smile which was stupidly mesmerizing, probably because of the contrast to his previous behavior.

Minho started making kissy faces at Jisung as the younger pushed him away with a jokingly disgusted face. He had to wait until he stopped laughing, but Jisung finally spoke up. “No no no, we like to think we are soulmates, but only in a best friend type of way. No, the only happy couple here is Hyunlixie over there.”

Felix hid his smile and flushed cheeks behind his hands and Hyunjin flung his arm around his shoulder with a proud grin. Your subconscious wished you could experience that kind of feeling.

“So… Chan-hyung said that you are a year his senior, does that mean we should call you noona?” Jeongin spoke up from next to where you were sitting.

“Oh god.” You chuckled nervously. “That is very sweet Jeongin, but not necessary. Please speak casually. 'Noona' makes me feel like an old lady.”

“Well you’re not far off…” Chan muttered which earned him a flick on the ear. “Just call her Kiyomi! That’s what me and my family always call her!”

“Cutie, huh?” Seungmin said in English with a cute grin.

You exaggerated a sigh. “Much to my dismay, but yes. I’ve gotten used to it.” You said with a bemused face and the rest of the boys nodded with understanding.

“I like it!” Felix raised his glass. “To Kiyomi and her new life!”

The rest started to raise their glasses until Jisung halted them. “Oh shit, you two need drinks! We need to get you wasted ASAP.”

“Oh no no no, you do not want to see me drunk.” You waved your hands in front of your face in protest. Getting plastered would definitely not make a good first impression.

“Yeah, she is an absolute mess. Last time we got sloshed, I had to carry her ass three miles back to her house while she was singing the Macarena nonstop.” Chan rubbed over his eyes with one of his hands, overemphasizing his mortification.

“Shut it Chan!” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Oh-ho-ho now we HAVE to get you drunk. Get her a bottle of soju, stat!” Hyunjin slapped Minho on the back and the cat-like man glared at him as he stood up to go to the bar.

“I’m only doing this because I may or may not be interested in seeing this for myself.” He grumbled as he walked away.

“I’ll go help him carry the other drinks!” Jisung jumped out of his chair to chase after Minho. As the rest of the boys chatted, your eyes naturally gravitated to the window of the restaurant, revealing the two boys inside at the bar. You watched as Jisung threw his arm over the shoulder of the statue of a man next to him and yelled for the bartender. Minho slapped Jisung’s ass and the younger whispered something to Minho and they both cracked up laughing, showing glistening white teeth and bright smiles from the pair. You felt your stupid stomach flip upside-down in your gut.

Throughout the night, you looked around at the group of gorgeous men, Changbin and Minho screaming loudly across the table at each other as Hyunjin and Seungmin stirred the pot. Felix and Jisung laughing about something completely unrelated and Jeongin watching it all with an amused smile. You felt a weight lifting off your shoulders you didn’t know was there. They all seemed to welcome you with open arms and you felt your heart swell with warmth as your sights swiveled across the table and landed on Chan who was smiling brightly at you. You felt like you were finally home.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fucking lightweight. Two bottles of soju in and you already started to feel bubbly and light as if you were floating. The rest of the group wasn’t in much better shape though.

“Okay okay! What about this? Chan-hyung, have you two ever done the dirty deed?” Changbin shouted from the seat next to him, waggling his eyebrows at you two.

Jisung drunkenly elbowed him. “Binnie *hiccup* hyung! Too far! Tooooo far!”

You and Chan made gagging noises and disgusted faces. “What the fuck Bin? No! She’s like a sister to me! That’s disgusting!”

“OKAY I agree with Channie, but don’t call me disgusting you asshole!” You shoved his head to the side and he rolled his eyes.

“Ssshe is a bootiful woman you monster! Kiyomi, f’you efer needa real maaan, just cm’to me!” Jisung slurred heavily and pointed at you with a winky face.

“She could do so much better than any of your lame asses.” Chan laughed and slapped you on the shoulder, making your body wobble.

“Okay enough enough! My turn! Noona, if you could describe all of us as a type of animal, what would you pick?” Sweet Jeongin, of course, had such a humble question.

“Booooring!” Hyunjin rolled his head back in dramatic annoyance.

You poked your tongue out at him and turned back to the maknae next to you. “I would definitely say that you look like a fox. Seungmin looked like a puppy when I first laid eyes on him. Changbin looks like a mix between a rabbit and a… pig?”

“Yah!” Changbin looked at you with an offended frown, the whole group cackling in the background.

“Not in a bad way! I mean like one of those cute little teacup pigs!” He smiled in content, making an aegyo-like bashful face and poking his cheek. “Jisung obviously looks like a quokka. Hyunjin… hmmmm… a llama maybe… or a ferret? Felix looks like a baby chick and I always thought Channie looked like a wolf.” You turned your sights to the man at the end of the table. “Minho looks like… bunny? No no no, a cat! He definitely seems to have the mannerisms of one.”

The man looked up at you with wide eyes. “A cat?”

“Yeah! You are stand-offish, but I feel like if someone were to pet you, you would purr and pass out.” Everyone started laughing but the man looked stunned. Maybe you did have a little too much to drink. You just met this man and you were talking about petting him. “It’s a good thing! I promise!”

“Mhm, sure. Maybe I should call you a mouse to make it known that you shouldn’t fuck with me.” He gave a crooked smile with a glint in his eye. You internally shivered. Well… hot damn.

“Oh give it up, hyung. *hiccup* Y’ve got nooo claws! Anyway, it’s funny y’say that, noona ‘cause Minnie-hyung owns 3 *hiccup* cats himself!” Jisung slapped him on the back and chuckled at his grumpy friend.

“I don’t own them, they own me. They are my babies.” Minho grumbled.

Your eyes lit up and you leaned in closer. “Oh my god I looove cats! You have to let me meet them!”

“U-uh s-sure…?” The fiery haired man turned his face away and you couldn’t tell if his red cheeks were from your comment or from the alcohol. Where the hell did that reaction come from?

“Noona, you are going to go to Uni with us, right? When will you start?” You brushed off the use of honorifics Seungmin and Jeongin kept using, accepting that they all are just trying to be polite and it was probably second nature to them.

“Two weeks from now, I still need to settle in, get registered, and find a job.”

“Ooo! Work with us! I’m sure the *hiccup* boss would hire you f’we asked!” Jisung raised his hand to get your attention.

Chan interjected before you could respond. “Yeah good luck with that one, Han-ah. I have been trying to convince her of that ever since I found out she was moving here and she isn’t budging. Something about ‘I need to do this on my own’ or whatever bullshit she said.” The air quotes he made came with an annoying mimicking voice.

“Hey shut your gob, dumbass. So what if I want to be independent?”

“Ahhh an independent woman *hiccup* I like it!” Jisung winked at you and you giggled at his drunken flirtiness.

Minho grabbed onto his ear like a mother would to scold her child. “Cut it out, she is going to get tired of you before the night is even over.”

“Okay okay! I get it! M'sorry!”

“It’s okay Jisung, I think it’s cute.” You exaggerated the statement by saying it in baby talk and cooing at him. He blushed at your words and chuckled nervously as the rest of the group laughed at his flustered fumbling.

“Okay my turn!” Seungmin announced…

- - - - - - - - - -

You decided it was time to stop drinking when you could feel your emotional side take the reins of your brain, the feeling of the welcoming new friends overwhelming you. You, Chan, and Felix parted from the group and Chan had to help you walk down the street to get home with you yelling your farewells to the giggling group retreating behind you. Once you got home, Felix immediately went to his room and slumped down, only halfway on his bed, completely wiped out from the alcohol.

Chan took you to your room and sat you down on the bed. “Chaaaannie!” You held onto him with tears building in your eyes as he removed your makeup for you. “Channie *hiccup* I love you so fucking much Channie! I’m so happy to be here and meet your *hiccup* frieeeeends.” He chuckled at your idiocy and handed you a glass of water.

“If you're happy, then why are you crying, you big baby?” You threw a tiny fist at him.

“I am just sooo happy, I don’t deserve you! I don’t deserve this life! It doesn’t even feel real to be here right now….” He froze as you crossed your eyes to focus on sipping your water and bent down to level his face to yours.

“Y/N, don’t you ever say that again. You deserve all of the happiness in the world and more and I wouldn’t give you up for a goddamned thing, alright? I want to hear you say that you deserve happiness.” You just whined and shoved your alcohol-flushed face in his chest. “Say it Kiyomi…”

All you could think about was the huge fucking piece of your heart this man had claimed. “I… I deserve happiness.”

“There we go, girl. Now let's get you into bed.” He pulled back the puffy white comforter and tucked you into the softest sheets you have ever felt. “G’night sis, love you.” He kissed your forehead and you were out like a light.

- - - - - - - - - -

The first month of getting used to university was hard, you were older, but you started behind the rest of your group of new friends. But thank God that dumb luck got you to join some of their classes.

Chan was in your music theory class, Jeongin and Minho were in your fine arts class, and Hyunjin, Felix, and Minho were in your dance class. You managed to find a job at a local café as a barista close to Eunsincheo where Chan worked. Things were falling into place for you remarkably fast and you threw yourself into your studies, not wanting to squander the opportunities that were gifted to you.

“Do you ever stop studying?” Seungmin leaned in close to where you were sitting on the ground next to the coffee table to examine what you were noting down from your second-hand textbook. Chan and Changbin were at work, but the rest of the boys decided to come hang out at the Aussie flat for movies and snacks.

“Well, not only does my Korean suck ass, but I also have to make up for all the lost time these past years. I need to work extra hard if I want to get past basic courses so I can become a choreographer.” You were, in fact, currently brushing up on your Hangul at the moment.

“Hey, that’s Minho-hyung’s major too! Maybe you guys can study together!” Jisung looked at Minho next to him on the loveseat expectantly. He just stared at you with a blank face.

“Depends, can the mouse keep up with me?” He smirked at you and leaned forward as if he was challenging you.

“Well now there’s no way I can back down. Bring it on MeanHoe!” You sat up straight, proudly, as you reached out your arm to shake hands as if you were making a business agreement. His grip was strong, but softened as it lingered there.

“Hyung’s in advanced courses, aside from the dance class we all have together, he has two or three intermediate and advanced classes too.” Hyunjin blankly stated as his focus was directed at picking at a hangnail, long limbs sprawled across the couch and on Seungmin’s lap.

The feline grew a smug grin. “I won’t go easy on you noona, get ready for an ass beating.”

“Ooo kinky!” Oh god, please don’t conjure images, brain! You could feel your ears getting red at Jisung’s statement. Minho was quick to slap him over the back of the head. “Ow!”

“Han Jisung! Can you stop being dirty minded for two goddamned seconds?” Minho crossed his arms, obviously embarrassed too as he looked away.

“I’m sorry hyung, I’m afraid that’s impossible. He is utterly helpless.” Jeongin sighed from his spot on the floor on the other side of the coffee table.

“He’s just like a child, just start up a video game for him and he’ll shut up real quick.” Felix yelled from the kitchen where he was pulling the delectable smelling brownies out of the oven that he had made for everyone.

“That’s not… entirely true…” Jisung meekly mumbled as he scratched the back of his head.

“Minho-hyung really helped me with my Korean when I moved here, maybe he can help you too?” Felix looked at Minho who just hummed in response.

He lifted himself off the loveseat and sat next to you on the floor, examining your work. “Your handwriting is shit.”

You just scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him. “Thanks, Min. Very insightful.” You turned back to your work and kept writing in chicken scratch font. “Do I really want your help? I’d rather not have my pride filed down more than it already is.”

He just shrugged and plucked the pen from your hand, mid-character. He wrote down what looked like a pangram with his left hand and erased and re-wrote a mistake with his right hand. That threw you for a hot loop. “Repeat writing this until your writing is actually legible.” You glared at him and shoved him slightly, making him chuckle. “Don’t worry, even if you have an extremely thick accent, you seem to have an easier time talking than you used to.”

“Yeah, your accent is even thicker than mine when you speak Korean, and that’s saying something.” Felix said while he placed the neatly arranged plate of brownies and napkins on the coffee table. The boys crowded around to grab their treats and Minho placed the yummy, gooey, center piece on a napkin and handed it to you. Well that is suspiciously out of character.

“Awww but I wanted that piece!” Minho flipped off the whiny Jisung.

“Maybe you should’ve been quicker, then, Sungie.” Minho turned back to grab himself a brownie.

“Thanks, Min. What is it that you want from me to deserve this kindness?” You smiled to yourself as Minho narrowed his eyes at you.

“Would you like me to take it back?” You hid your chocolaty treat from his field of vision followed by an attempt of an intimidating expression. You felt a modicum of success when he turned to hide his suppression of a laugh.

Once Felix finished his duties of serving brownies and popcorn to everyone, he turned the TV on for everyone to watch Howl’s Moving Castle upon Jisung’s repetitive insistence. You turned your head to see that Minho was still sitting in his spot he took next to you on the floor. Stupid stomach for its stupid flippity flops.

You contemplated your actions for a minute, but then decided to go for it. “Hey Min.” You leaned in with a hushed tone so you wouldn’t interrupt the movie. He leaned his ear closer to hear you better. “You really want to help me study? I really am kind of at the ass-end of the curve when it comes to my studies.”

He shrugged. “Sure, why not? Do Tuesdays and Thursdays after art class work for you?” You eagerly nodded your head and he gave you a crooked smile.

“Thanks Minnie! I owe you!”

“Yes you do.” He chuckled and leaned away, indicating the end of the conversation. Well shit.

- - - - - - - - - -

You aren’t sure when it happened, but apparently you had fallen asleep because the next thing you knew, you were waking up in a dark room - lit only by the TV that had some random YouTube video on - with Chan shaking you awake. You were still on the floor in the living room, but everyone was gone save for Chan and Minho which you had evidently fallen asleep on. Not just on, in his fucking lap . Head fully rested on fully-jacked, muscular thighs. God, kill me now.

You had never sat up so fast in your life. “Ah shit!” You rubbed your eyes and tried to shake off the lightheadedness you felt from getting up too fast. “Shit, Min, I’m so sorry! Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?!”

He shrugged his shoulders as the two of you stood up. He slightly stretched his back and his neck and you felt mortified that he had stayed behind just because of your lazy ass. “It’s whatever, I was just entertained by watching videos and hearing you blab about something in your sleep.” He said nonchalantly.

“WHAT? Oh no. No no no, what did I say?” You hid your face in your hands as the two boys laughed at you. This is hell.

“I couldn’t really figure it out, it was in English.”

“Oh thank god.”

“Tell it to me, I’m sure I can translate!” Chan said with a chipper voice.

You grabbed onto your best friend’s shirt collar. “Do you want to die tonight, pup?” He sheepishly laughed and held his hands up in surrender.

“I sounded like you were having a nightmare, but don’t worry little mouse, I’m sure I’ll figure it out one way or another.” You looked back at Minho’s winking face with terror in your eyes. You side-eyed Chan and saw he was looking at you with worry. You knew what he was thinking and silently prayed he wouldn’t say anything, but you just huffed and marched off to your room like a petulant child.

“Good night!” The two shouted after you in unison as you slammed your door.

Behind the cover of your bedroom door, you ran your hands over your tired face and prayed that you didn’t say anything too embarrassing. You didn’t know how long he had stayed there after everyone had left, but the thought of him staying behind so he wouldn’t disturb you made your core throb. That’s stupid, he probably just wanted to wait until Chan got home. You convinced yourself to stop having a weird imagination, and with that, you showered off to rid you of your thoughts.

- - - - - - - - - -

The next Thursday afternoon around four in the afternoon , you were lounging on the couch scrolling through your phone when you heard someone knocking at your front door. When Chan opened it, the both of you were surprised to see Minho standing in the doorway with that damned stereotypical leather jacket on.

“Uh, hey Min, what’s up?” Chan looked confused as he gestured for Minho to come inside.

“Study sessions, remember? Tuesdays and Thursdays? Please don’t tell me your memory really is that bad or else this is a lost cause.” He said pointedly at you in response to Chan’s question.

You sat up quickly with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t forget! It just may have… slipped my mind…” Shit memory strikes again.

He rolled his eyes and threw his backpack down on the dining table and shucked off his jacket, flinging it over the back of the chair. “Well are you coming or not?” You quickly realized what he was indicating and you hastily grabbed your textbooks and papers from your room and sat down next to him.

“Well I guess I will leave you two to it, I’m going to go to the gym.” Chan walked out without another word. And you suddenly found yourself in an empty apartment with only your studies and Lee Minho to keep you company. Fuck, I should have thought this through.

“Okay, so where should we start?”

- - - - - - - - - -

It was probably around 8pm and studying was completely forgotten about about an hour and a half after you two started. You had asked to see a picture of his cats and it all went downhill from there. The two of you discussed anything from favorite foods to childhood memories. However, you elected to opt out of mentioning your family situation in favor of reminiscing your time with Chan. No one wants to hear about that shit show.

This was until Minho verbally backed you into a corner. “So what do your parents do for a living?” You could feel your blood turn ice cold. What should I tell him? ‘Oh yeah, they sell and smuggle drugs for a living. What about yours?’ 

Yeah, fuck that. “Oh, they just get odd jobs here and there.” You tried to be as vague as possible.

“Oh okay cool, did you live near Chan-hyung?”

“Nah, I lived about 5 miles from him. But I basically lived with him half the time.” You said with a nervous chuckle. He leaned his elbow on the table, laying his cheek on his fist as he was fully facing you in his seat.

“Your parents didn’t mind? My mom would worry herself to an early grave any time I spent the night at a friend’s house for more than a night. She definitely used to baby me.” He chuckled, not breaking eye contact with you, making you extremely flustered and intimidated. Stupid cat man. Your eyes couldn’t meet his for more than a couple seconds before they looked elsewhere in attempts to escape the inexplicable nervousness.

“No they didn’t mind… They weren’t those kinds of parents.” You looked down and played with the hem of your shorts. It was silent for a second and you were afraid you had maybe said too much. But as you looked back up into his eyes, you think it was possible that he realized that it was a sore subject by the way he was searching your eyes.

“Well that’s cool, no wonder you and Chan-hyung have so many experiences together.” He suddenly decided to stand up and make his way toward the kitchen. “I’m making dinner, any requests?”

You breathed a sigh of relief with the end of the previous conversation. “It’s our kitchen, Min. How do you know we even have the stuff to make what you want?”

He turned his head over his shoulder from where he is standing in front of the pantry and gave you a crooked smile. “I told Yongbok and Chan-hyung that they need to be adults and actually keep their kitchen stocked, even if it only gets used when I come cook for them.” He turned back to look in the walk-in pantry, speaking a little louder so you could hear. “I probably screwed myself by saying that, though, because now I cook for them all the time. ”

You moved from your position at the dining table, abandoning your schoolwork, and sat on the barstool at the island. “Am I really going to get the great Chef Lee Minho to cook for me? I am honored, but I'm not really a big eater.” You were used to eating nothing for days so your appetite wasn’t huge. Even if you were accommodated with three meals a day now, you were always painfully full before you finished your serving.

He walked out with a deadpan face and a few items in his hands. “Well if we are going to be friends, that is going to change. No arguments. How does chicken fettuccine alfredo sound?”

Your mouth starts watering at the mention of it. “My lord, that sounds amazing. You’re my hero .” You said the last part wistfully as if you were a damsel in distress and dramatically leaned your head back with the back of your hand draped on your forehead.

He scoffed at you and pulled a small bowl out of the fridge after he put on a pot of water to boil for the noodles. Once he placed the bowl in front of you, you looked at him with a confused face. “Kimchi for a starter.” He looked at you expectantly.

You looked warily at the delicious looking snack. “Min, if I eat this, I won’t be able to finish my pasta.”

He didn’t respond, instead, he pulled out a pair of chopsticks and raised a bite of kimchi to your mouth. “Say ‘ahhh’ little mouse!” He waved the food around and made airplane noises as if you were a child. You couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his antics and he used that opportunity to lightly press the tip of the food to your lips. You gave in and wrapped your lips around the chopsticks, cleaning it of the kimchi juices.

You were a little surprised to see him use those same chopsticks to pop a bite into his mouth for himself. You figured it was a perfectly normal thing to do between friends. Hell, you and Chan have shared almost everything, but something about the action coming from Minho made you feel different.

Once he tried to feed you another bite, you spoke before he could shove it in your face. “Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?”

He shook his head and continued his movements toward your mouth. “Water Isn't boiling yet. Open up.”

You couldn’t help but huff at the stubborn little shit. “Do you not want me to eat your alfredo? Because if I eat a starter, I’ll be too full for dinner!”

“That’s just the first step to get you to eat more!” As the food got closer, you had planned to just slightly push his hand away. However, as you realized that life still hated you, you accidentally whacked the chopsticks out of his hand and the kimchi flew directly onto Minho’s white shirt, trickling the red juices down the length of it. Of fucking course.

The two of you were silent for a moment, processing what just happened. He looked down at his shirt and then back up at you with an indistinguishable expression. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. I’m sorry, Min! I’ll go get you a new one! Just give me one sec!” You stood up to go grab one of Chan’s shirts but Minho stopped you in your tracks, standing right in front of you and looking down menacingly. You instinctively took a couple of steps back because you, of course, were a piece of chicken shit.

“Mouse. Come here.” He started stepping forward and, for some reason, you felt fear and excitement jolt up your spine. You continued to step backward as he grabbed the small bowl and chopsticks in one hand.

“Minnie. Min-min. Buddy-ole-pal, listen, I really am sorry! Lemme just–” You were cut off when you felt your back hit the wall next to the kitchen. He kept prowling toward you and you froze in place. He stepped until there was about a foot of distance between your faces.

“I said. Open. Up.” His voice was colored with intimidation and a touch of dominance that made you quiver. You meekly opened your mouth and he gently placed the kimchi on your tongue, slowly pulling back the chopsticks once your lips were wrapped around it. He smirked at you, mockingly.

You decided that if he wants to play games, you will too, you already ruined his shirt after all. As Minho was still holding up the bowl, you decide to throw caution to the wind as you dipped your hand straight into the bowl, pulling out a long string of kimchi and promptly rubbing it over the side of his face and mouth and letting the remaining cabbage leaf fall to the ground, splattering on the tile.

He looked at you, utterly gobsmacked while you cackled, using his momentary shock to escape the spot where you were caged in. Once you were out of reach, he spun around with a bone chilling smile on his face. “So that’s how you want to play? Fine.” He started to walk toward you swiftly, bowl in hand, and determination in his eyes. You were still chuckling as you ran on the other side of the island, making the two of you dance around it (ironically) like cat and mouse.

He then did something you hadn’t expected him to do, he grabbed some kimchi with his own hand and flung the dripping, red snack across the island. And of course, the fat, juicy piece landed directly on your chest, slithering from your collarbone right down to your cleavage and under your shirt.

You shrieked at the cold contact as Minho cracked up on the other side of the bar. As you squirmed your hand under your shirt and bra, Minho had found an opportunity to set the bowl down and lunge at you, only to tackle you to the ground with more kimchi in his palm. “Caught you, you neanderthal!” You couldn’t control your laughter as you hopelessly tried to push off the man hovering over you, bracketing you to the ground with his limbs. “Now, little mouse, open up.”

He dangled the piece of kimchi over your mouth between his two fingers. You giggled, but sucked your lips into your mouth, sealing off the entrance. You shook your head in defiance, letting him know full well that you weren’t giving up that easy. Not chicken shit anymore, huh?

“Gonna be a brat? Okay, fine.” He then took his free hand and started poking your side, making you flail in ticklishness. Your hands immediately flew to the hand trying to tickle you to push them off, but to no avail.

“Ack! Min– *heh* Minho! *haha!* S–stop! *gasp* I– *heh* I give up!” you almost had tears running down your face in laughter as he finally relented. Once you felt the relief from him halting his assault, your arms fell to the ground to the sides of your head. Your eyes locked onto the feline above you. His smirk was full of playfulness, but something else showed in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, making your useless heart skip.

“That’s what I thought.” He held the piece up to your mouth once more and you kept eye contact as you licked your lips and slowly opened your mouth. You waited as he slid the kimchi into your mouth slowly, releasing it, and briefly catching his thumb on your lower lip. You felt your brain short circuit momentarily until you realized you needed to start chewing. “Yummy, yeah?” You nodded your head slowly. “There’s a good girl.”

He stood up and it took your frozen limbs a moment to clamber up to accept his offered hand, pulling you up and onto your feet. Once you stood, the cold, sticky feeling running down your chest made itself known again. As if on cue, the two of you look down at your ruined shirts and back at each other, bursting out laughing and clutching your stomachs.

You dug the remaining piece of kimchi out of your shirt as he politely looked away. “Let me go get you a new shirt.” You chuckled out after you could catch your breath.

“Bet. I’ll clean up our mess once I put the noodles on to boil.”

You started to wonder where Chan was once you entered his room to grab Minho a new shirt. He said he was going to the gym, like what? Three hours ago? Surely he’d be done by now. As you walked back into the kitchen to give Minho the shirt, you were frozen solid, dropping the shirt at the sight in front of you. Good LORD.

Standing in the middle of your kitchen was a completely shirtless human statue. Minho had stripped himself of the soiled cloth, leaving him clothed only from the waist down. You tried to get ahold of your bearings, but the man’s back was turned away facing the sink to clean his clothing, leaving your subconscious to stand and gawk over the expanse of skin.

You had seen Chan shirtless countless times, so why did this particular moment affect you so much? Minho wasn’t as jacked up as Chan was, but you could clearly see the bands of toned, lean muscle just beneath the surface of his milk and honey skin. Your eyes skimmed the muscles of his arms and drifted down to his deliciously veiny forearms and hands. If your eyes hadn’t had enough of a feast on his back, it was absolutely gorged when he turned to face you. Two toned pecs and a lean stomach that adorned a small scar. Your attention was snapped back to reality when your gaze lingered on the hem of his pants. Wait, shit, fuck, he turned around!

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Your eyes flew up to his face to show that same annoying smug grin. 

You huffed and quickly grabbed the shirt off the floor and threw it at his face. “No need. I was only thinking of how gross it was to be half naked in a room where we EAT, let alone cleaning your nasty shirt in my kitchen sink.” You snatched his shirt from the sink and started to head to the laundry room.

“Yah! I’m not gross! And where the hell do you think you’re taking my shirt?” He grabbed your arm before you could get too far and spun you around to, once again, face his shirtless body. You refused to look anywhere in his general direction as you could feel your cheeks warm up. He must have picked up on your demeanor, because you could hear him lightly chuckle, forcing you to glance at his amused face. “Do I make you uncomfortable little mouse?”

“No… I just–”

“Juuust what?”

If you weren’t already being tortured by the current situation enough, life decided to rear it’s ugly head again. Before either of you two could react, the front door swung open and in stepped a suspiciously well dressed Chan. “What the FUCK?”

Now, you wouldn’t necessarily call Chan an irrational or violent person, but with Minho’s grip on your arm, his shirtless body, and an undistinguishable wet spot down the front of your shirt, you could definitely see cause for misinterpretation. “You motherfucker.” Chan started to march toward the two of you and you could see terror morph in the, typically unwavering, eyes of Minho. 

“Hyung I can expla—“ You watched in horror as you saw Chan’s fist fly through the air. You expected to see the innocent man get pile driven into the ground, but thankfully, Minho was quick enough to dodge the blow. You bolted over to Chan, jumping on the man and grabbing his arm to hold him back. Unfortunately, your tiny body failed to make him even budge. You might as well have thrown a teddy bear at him for how little it affected him.

“Chan stop! It’s just a misunderstanding! Please!” He looked down at your pleading eyes and back at Minho suspiciously. 

“Explain. Now.”

- - - - - - - - - -

After Minho put a shirt on and Chan calmed down, you briefly explained the situation. You excused yourself to shower off the kimchi juice as the boys talked it out. You felt awful that Minho had been subjected to that because of your own childish fuckary.

“God, why am I such an idiot?” You groaned at yourself as you pulled sweats and a tank top on, dampening the cloth with your wet hair. You stepped out into the living room and, to your amazement, Minho was still there. The two boys looked up at you in tandem with smiles on their faces and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank god, I was afraid I was about to walk out into a bloodbath.”

“Not today, Kiyomi. But you really need to stop being such a lunatic. You almost made me kill a man today.” Chan stood up from his spot on the couch next to Minho to come hug you.

“You almost committed murder and I’m the lunatic?”

“Yes.” The two boys said at the same time. You glared at the pair when the embrace was broken.

“You–!” You accusingly pointed a finger at the smirking redhead on the couch. “--aren’t any less guilty, mister!” You glared each other down, neither backing down for an instant. Little shit.

Chan let out a heavy sigh. “Well I’m utterly wrecked from the gym so I’m going to go shower. Goodnight guys.” The color of the tone in his voice sounded somewhat off.

“G’night!” You and Minho both said, still staring each other down.

After a moment of awkward silence, you cleared your throat in preparation to say something, but Minho beat you to it. “Pepperoni or cheese?”

“Uhm... wha—?” You were completely thrown. You searched your brain to think of what the hell he was talking about.

“Or supreme? If you’re into that. Just no pineapple or we can’t be friends anymore.”

“Did I miss something? Should I leave and come back? Because I have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Pizza.” He said with his gaze down, simply scrolling through his phone. “The pasta got overcooked so I’m ordering pizza, now what do you want?”

Ah, yes. The dish that started this whole tiff. “Ummm I guess meatlovers?” You said as you slid over next to him on the couch.

“Hell yeah, a woman after my own heart.” Sir, don’t even. He tapped away at a few things on his phone and sat it down. “Placed, should be here soon.”

“Sorry I ruined dinner, Min. If it’s any consolation, I really was looking forward to trying your cooking. I guess that’s why I was so determined to save my appetite…” You looked down at your hands in embarrassment. All I can fucking do is cause trouble for people.

“Hey.” You felt a gentle hand being placed on your shoulder and you looked up to lock eyes with the redhead. “It’s no problem to me, it just means I’ll get to cook for us on Thursday.” His eyes are soft and he was sporting a gentle smile that you had never seen before.

You unattractively snorted at the comment. “You mean you’re still going to help me study after the trainwreck I led you to?”

“Of course, as long as you keep your dog at bay.” The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh and you silently thanked God that things aren’t awkward now. I mean, as long as you didn’t fuck shit up again.

- - - - - - - - - -

That following Saturday you had to go to work. You had already worked a few shifts before so you were almost getting the hang of it. Since you weren’t one hundred percent confident in your Korean, you didn’t take orders, you only made the coffee and handed it to the customers. You were fine with this because you didn’t have to talk to people (because the general populous of all humans suck ass), but you would still get to make tasty drinks and listen in enough to advance your Korean. 

It was around 7:50pm, about ten minutes away from the end of your shift when you heard the entry of a large group ringing the bell of the front doors that announced their arrival. You internally groaned at the sound, (not looking so you could focus on the current task at hand of making a vanilla latte that had WAY too many modifications asked for by a particularly picky customer) knowing how you were about to have to stay late to make all of those people's plethora of drinks. You didn’t completely mind though, more work meant more money.

You turned around to hand off the last customer’s latte and once it was handed off, you froze as you looked on at the rowdy group of men. Eight, gloriously bright smiling faces were all directed at you, you could feel yourself flush as you walked up to them in a hushed tone. “What the hell are all of you doing here?”

“What? We can’t come see our favorite barista?” Changbin pouted, most of the rest following in mimicking his exact expression. You rolled your eyes at the group. You felt like a damn adolescent being picked up from school early.

“How do you know I’m your favorite? You haven’t tasted my coffee yet, it could taste like shit.”

“Then shitty coffee will be my new favorite!” Felix replied cheerily. What a sweet little lying son of a bitch.

“Speak for yourself.” Seungmin smirked at you and left to find the large group a couple of tables. 

The order was easy enough, seven iced americanos and a caramel macchiato for Felix. After that, your shift was already done and you accompanied your rambunctious friends, all gulping down their delicious drinks.

“You down to go for some karaoke tonight? We are all planning on getting trashed because there’s no school or work tomorrow.” Hyunjin said with a dramatic blissed out expression at the end of his sentence.

“Except for boring ass Chan-hyung that is about as interesting as a wet sponge. For some reason, he needs to go meet up with a person from a group in his class to study.” Changbin shot a disappointed grimace at Chan.

“Yah! I already had that planned! You guys sprung this on me last minute!” Chan crossed his arms defensively. Interesting, you didn’t recall him saying anything about that…

“Whatever you say, hyung.” Minho spoke up for once. He looked at Chan with feigned belief, then his sights automatically locked onto yours. “What do you say? Coming or not?” 

You internally pondered to yourself. Would I rather go home and get an early sleep after work? Or would I rather hang out and go get sloshed with my friends? One hundred percent the latter. “I am in desperate need of a drink, let’s go.”

As you followed the boys out, Minho grabbed your arm. “You’re riding with me, Felix’s car is full.” You hesitantly let him pull you around the side of the café and your heart stopped beating. The man sat down on a fucking crotch rocket. As he straddled the motorcycle, he patted the seat behind him. “Well, are you coming or not?”

You realized that your eyes were still bulged out of your head as you shook yourself out of your stupor. “No no no, no fucking way am I going to get on that death trap! I’d rather walk there barefoot on hot stones before I subject myself to that contraption.”

He rolled his eyes into the back of his head and groaned. “Oh come on, I’ve been riding this thing forever. I’m a really good driver I swear.” He picked up the helmet behind him and got off the bike. When he walked toward you, he promptly lifted the hard shell of safety over your head and stuffed your head in it, gently fastening it tightly under your chin.

“M-Min… I don’t know about this…”

“Would you rather walk alone? It’s getting dark out and the place is pretty far. I’m sure we will be done and gone by the time you get there.” He grew that stupid smirk that you could see through the eye socket of the full-faced helmet.

“Fine, but my ghost will haunt you for eternity if you kill me.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.” He went to straddle the bike again and you hesitantly hopped on behind him. “Hold me tight.” You are flabbergasted when he daringly grabbed your hands and wrapped them around his waist. His leather jacket felt cold around your arms and your body pressed up against his back.

When you heard the motor start, you looped your fingers together to squeezed onto him for dear life and you felt him squirm in your grasp. “Geez, don’t fucking crush me!” He yelled over the sound of the motor, but you only let up a miniscule amount.

Your breathing accelerated as he kicked off and drove out of the lot. It was stupid really. You had experienced a lot more dangerous things than this. Maybe it was because you weren’t in control of the circumstances here. You were putting your full trust in this man and trust is something you were not accustomed to.

The ride was terrifying and exhilarating all the same. The wind whipping around your body and through your hair was an experience you have never felt before. Adrenaline ran through your veins and - it was hard to explain - but you felt... free. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest and you saw Minho slightly turn his head with a smile on his face. You threw your head back and let your mind ease itself of it's worries.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was about 11pm and you were currently singing ‘DDU-DU DDU-DU’ by Blackpink with Jeongin and Jisung, mostly laughing and stumbling into each other in attempts to dance. Normally you danced phenomenally, but at that moment, you were hammered enough to just let loose and flail your body in whichever direction fate had decided for you. The group was all laughing and taking videos of you three, but you didn’t care, you were lost in the moment.

When the next song came on, you slumped back onto your seat next to Minho on the long booth, circling around the small room to accommodate everyone around a couple tables. You felt hot from all of the dancing and laughter as your limbs and head laid limp against the seat. “Have fun?” Minho turned his gaze to you from where he was sitting by your side.

You let your head fall to the side from where it was leaned back against the head of the booth. The colorful and flashing lights flickered across his face, creating little dancing sparkles in his already gorgeous eyes. “Hell yeah, w’should do dis more offen.” Your drunken body leaned towards him and glared at the man. “Why didn’t y’look like y’were hav’n fun when I was *hiccup* singin’ and dancin’?” You bumped a tiny fist against his chest that somehow looked like it was getting closer. “You just sat there ‘n stared like y’hated me!” Your lower lip moved to jut out in a deep pout. You felt like you were sitting on a boat, waves rocking and wavering your movements.

He stared at you with a cheeky smile on his face for a moment. “Psh, I don’t hate anything, too much effort. I just wanted to watch you from behind.”

Now you weren’t sure if that phrase was misinterpreted in translation, or if you were just too drunk, but that definitely sounded pretty damn flirty. “You’re a teeease Minnie! Why’re all of y’guys sooo handsome? I feel like a nasty wart in th’group!” You twisted your eyebrows in confusion, already forgetting what just came out of your mouth.

He belted out a melodic laugh that made you swoon from your inebriation. “That’s sweet, but I wouldn’t say you’re quite like a wart. Maybe more of a mole.” He cackled when you shoved him over. “What?! A mole is more permanent!” You refused to let up your glower. Cheeky little asshole. “Kidding! Kidding! You’re gorgeous, little mouse.” His gaze was a little cloudy as well and you could see the indication of the five shots of soju everyone took on his red cheeks.

“Nooo y’r jus drunk ” You slurred out, poking your tongue out at him.

“Oh I’m the one who’s drunk?” He fully faced your staggering body in the booth to challenge you.

“Yeah!” You leaned forward, puffing your chest out to attempt intimidation. He let out a small chuckle and the both of you realized just how close you were as your eyes met each other. However, for some reason, neither of you moved away. Is the alcohol making us abandon all reason? You could've swore that his eyes had flit down to your lips, but you could’ve also imagined it. After all, you were a stupidly high level of plastered.

“Do... do you think you would wa–” Minho’s statement was cut off by a drunken Jisung sprawling his body over both of your laps.

“I looove y’guys sooo mush!” He was clinging onto Minho’s waist. “Wan’it t’always be like this…”

The two of you giggled. “Me too, Ji…” You smiled down at the quokka, but you refused to turn your attention back to Minho for the rest of the night.

- - - - - - - - - -

After a few months of you working and getting used to study sessions with Minho, the two of you had gotten extremely close. That also meant that you got extremely close with Jisung too, because those two men were just about attached at the hip. Minho was even comfortable enough now to hang out with you aside from classes and study sessions. However, the topic of the karaoke night was never brought up.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were your days scheduled for your dance class, and Tuesdays and Thursdays were scheduled for your art class right before tutoring. This meant that, unless you spent the weekend holed up doing shit-all, you would see Minho every day. You didn’t necessarily mind it, but it did absolutely no help to quell the germinating feeling in your gut of pure tension any time the two of you were alone.

Dance classes were the hardest. Not the dancing of course, you loved the dancing, feeling your inhibitions fly out the window as you moved to the beat of the music. You revered the art of it. No, the burdensomeness of it came from your fiery-haired classmate that was a dance god .

Hyunjin wasn’t kidding when he said Minho was well ahead of the curve when it came to dance. During your long, late-night talks with Minho, he had said he had been dancing ever since the start of middle school and never stopped. Any chance he could - unless he was working at his job assisting the local performing art’s center as an intern, or hanging out with friends - he was dancing.

You could never fully focus in class as you watched his stupid graceful movements with his stupid unholy physique like he’s a fucking stupid dance statue from hell. The worst part is, when you had decided to be taken under his wing before all the tutoring crap was decided, he had taken to assisting you with your technique in dance on top of helping with your other classes.

First it was simple instruction, a little ‘higher’ here and a ‘more powerful’ there, no problem at all. Welcome even. That’s until he started physically guiding you. Small touches to fix your posture which then turned into lingering hands that were full-on spotting your moves. You didn’t protest. How could you? When his hands felt like god’s fucking homemade buttermilk and melted you down to the faux-wooden padded flooring.

“It needs to be more angular with your posture, but not stiff.” You had taken a day from your tutoring to go to the round-the-clock student accessible practice rooms. You thought it was a good idea to get ahead in your class in order to achieve your choreography dreams sooner. It all made sense on paper, but your fatal mistake was your choice of instructor.

Minho gently placed his hands on your shoulders - while you were frozen in your previous dance pose - and pushed them down to relax them (as if you could possibly relax). This was followed by him gently placing his solid hands lower. One on the lower dip of your back and the other on your abdomen as he straightened your posture. 

“You need to be able to feel the tension in your core.” He said, squeezing your abdominal muscles for emphasis. Trust me, I’m feeling the tension, you ungodly son of a bitch. You wondered if he knew what he’s doing to you. If he thought was fun making your breath hitch any time he touched you. Well two can play at that game, asshole.

You grabbed his forearm and held it in the proper position for the score, trying to look as unaffected as possible. “Should I roll my arm like this?” Your hand slowly glided up to rest on his shoulder. “Or should I just roll my shoulder back?” His mind looked staggered at your sudden boldness and a light pink dusted over his cheekbones. Your expression stayed utterly neutral. Pro move.

You looked at his lips twitch in an attempt to hold back a smile. “I think you should focus more on moving this.” He abruptly stood behind you and put a hand on your shoulder blade, pushing forward while holding your upper arm to roll back. The small stretch you felt from the pull brought a sensation of euphoria through your muscles. Embarrassingly, your mouth let out a small sigh of relief without warning.

“Feel good?” You heard him say in a low, husky voice, suspensefully closer to your ear. You felt stirring heat shoot straight to your lower abdomen. You could smell the pure sweat and testosterone oozing from his body and you felt like you could get high off of it with how lightheaded it was making you.

“Heh, yeah. Maybe I should have stretched more.” You found yourself leaning into the touch, not realizing the intimacy of it all. He started rubbing small circles with his thumb on your bare arm, still looming behind you like a predator. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

“Maybe we should call it quits for today.” You could feel his hands leave you and you wanted to cry from the loss of the delicious sensation. “Let’s go eat.” You internally fumed at the feline, feeling like he was just playing with his food. Stupid cat.

- - - - - - - - - -

On Saturday after your shift, it was around eight at night and you were more than happy to get home and get in an early sleep. However, when you gently opened the door to your flat, your eyes were scarred beyond repair. Chan and some random girl - as naked as the day they were born - were sucking face on the couch. They obviously hadn’t heard you enter because the chick was still riding Chan’s dick like her life depended on it. Your cheeks flushed with unparalleled embarrassment and you immediately turned around and gently shut the door behind you. You would rather sleep anywhere else than interrupt that mess.

You shivered slightly from the cooling weather (and partly from what you just witnessed) and thought of where you could go. Jisung and Jeongin shared a room in the university dorms as well as Changbin and Hyunjin. Seungmin still lived with his parents so that only left Minho. Of fucking course. Why does it have to be Minho? You groaned as you pulled out your phone.

“What's up?” Minho mumbled on the other line sounding like he’s eating something.

“Hey, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“If it involves heights, it's a hard pass.”

“No I nee– wait, you’re afraid of heights? Awww what an adorable little kitty.” You mockingly cooed at him.

“Yeah yeah, I’m a scaredy cat, I get it, I get it. What’s the favor?” You heard him take another bite.

“Well, I just witnessed the most horrifying scene I’ve ever seen in my life. I don’t think I’ll be able to burn it out of my memory for as long as I live.” You knew you were being dramatic, but this particular occasion called for it.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Worry colored his voice and your heart swelled. Damn you, don’t be sweet to me.

You lightly chuckled. “It depends on what you classify as being ‘okay’. I just found Chan and some chick butt-ass naked on our couch fucking their brains out.”

“Awh nasty, not cool, hyung.” There was the faded voice of Jisung in the background saying ‘hell yeah, get it hyung!’

Your heart sank. “Oh shoot, you have Ji over, sorry! I’ll just ask someone else.”

“Wait–” He halted you, slightly choking on the food he was swallowing. “What did you need?”

You sighed dejectedly. “I was trying to find a different place to sleep tonight and you’re the only person who has a couch I can crash on.”

“Well Ji was just about to leave, actually.” You could hear a faint ‘No I was n–’ and a thud, followed by an ‘ow!’. For your own sanity, you pretended you didn’t notice the background exchange so your brain wouldn’t break from over processing.

“I don’t want to impose.” You said politely, only half meaning it because, let’s be real, you were really desperate.

“No imposition at all, come on over. I even have a spare toothbrush if you want it.”

Before you knew it you had already started walking. “You’re a fucking saint, I owe you Min. Just text me the address.”

Luckily, the bus stop next to your condo was a direct line to Minho’s apartment. You knew you had the right building when you saw his bike parked in the lot next to the complex. You knocked on the door tentatively, hoping it was the right flat and you heard rustling on the other side. Once the door swung open, you were met with a disheveled and panting Jisung.

“Do I want to know why you look utterly fucked out?”

Minho blushed as he walked up, looking the same as Jisung. “I just had Ji help me clean up real quick, my flat was a landfill.”

“Dude, I’m the one that’s barging in at nine at night. I already feel bad enough springing this on you, let alone subjecting you two to last minute spring cleaning.” You stepped inside as they gestured for you to come in.

“Like I said before, it’s no problem.” Minho looked down at you with a contagious smile.

“Well I really need to get home and do… things? Dishes? Yeah, dishes. See you guys later!” And with that, Jisung was out the door and it was just you and Minho. Shit this was a bad idea. Your stomach turned with nervousness. You’d been alone with him before, but you felt a lot more tense when you were alone with him in his private living space.

“Want something to drink? I have… water and… water? *heh* Oh! And gin.” He started walking toward the kitchen.

“Ew, who the fuck drinks gin?” 

He shrugged. “No one, but I have it nonetheless.”

You sauntered inside behind him and took in your surroundings. One bedroom and one bathroom on the wall on your right, and the space that stretched out on your left first held a kitchen. Small, but big enough to have counter space and an island. The far wall had two small windows with a TV setting between them, sitting atop a simple, long coffee table. The couch stood a few feet from the island behind it, leaving just enough room between the TV and the couch and couch to the island to squeeze through comfortably.

Overall, it was probably only slightly larger than your apartment in Australia. “Why the hell not, I need my mind to escape Chan’s fucked out image from my head anyway.”

“A well deserved reason.”

“By the way, where are your cats? I wanted to meet them!” You walked over and took a seat on the couch, searching for them as Minho brought over two glasses of ice and a large bottle of Tanqueray.

“Back at home in Gimpo, I can't afford a place big enough for them yet.” You silently nodded your head, slightly sad you wouldn’t get to meet them. “Maybe I can take you there some time to meet them, mom’s a really good cook.” Your mind went haywire and as you looked over, his expression is extremely blasé. Calm the fuck down, your just like any of the rest of the guys in the group, no need to make it weird.

After the drinks started flowing and you two conversated about shit-all on the couch, you started to get less tense. “Uhk this stuff is disgusting, but I think I’m starting to get used to it.” You took another gulp of gin with a disgusted face.

“No shit Sherlock, that’s your third– no, fourth glass tonight.” There was that melodic laugh again that made warmth shoot up your spine.

“Well you’re not any better, you thirsty little kitty!” You coo at him and pinched his cheek that was reddening to match his ears. He didn’t protest like you thought he would though, he just froze and stared into your eyes with a fond expression. Your heart started beating fast and the nice, air conditioned apartment started feeling extremely hot.

The moment of silence made you clear your throat before speaking. “So, um, your apartment… it’s really nice.”

“Heh, yeah right, this place is a shithole. I’m just living here so I can save money.”

“No really!” You flushed from your suddenly loud outburst. “This place is ten times better than the flat I lived in back in Australia, and that was a one bed, one bath too.”

“One bedroom? Did you share the room with your parents?” He looked dumbfounded.

“Ew, GOD NO. I slept on the couch most nights. Some nights I would just go to Chan’s when my parents needed me gone for a day or two.”

“Needed you gone?” His expression turned from dumbfounded, to outright bewildered. This was when you realized that the alcohol had gotten to the point again where your mouth would blab out words without allowing you think about them first.

“Oh… yeah… But that’s why I don’t mind a night away from my flat, sleeping on the couch is no stranger to me.” You chuckled and tried to sound lighthearted to relieve the tension in the air, to no avail. His face fell. Shit, you let too much slip again.

He stared at you with two black pools of eyes, holding galaxies in each one. His expression was indiscernible. The air was knocked from your lungs while looking at his gorgeous face, flushed with alcohol. His eyes sank down to your lips just like last time during karaoke, but this time, they lingered there. Your eyes flit to his too, taking in his plump bottom lip, overlapped with the steep incline of his upper lip that tapered up to two round peaks at the center.

You wanted to blame the alcohol, the lack of sleep, the hard day’s work, anything. But really you just wanted to see what he tasted like, felt like. Apparently he had the same thoughts as your lips gently collided with one another with just a whisper of a kiss. It was sweet, humble really. Until it wasn’t. 

Once his hand reached up to cup your face, you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. You flung your arms around his neck, one hand running through his fiery hair, and the other caressing his back. You could feel the hand on your cheek slide its way down to your neck as his other hand took purchase on your waist. His tongue sneaked out to gently seek out your bottom lip and you eagerly allowed its entrance, exploring and tasting each other’s mouths freely. He tasted like alcohol and something sweet that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He smelt like heaven with his earthy and citrus scent as you felt fire run down your abdomen and both of your breaths started to get heavy. 

You pressed closer to him, chests touching and bodies turned to face each other on the couch, knees interlocking. The kiss started to get hungrier as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving soft little tugs. His hands traveled from your waist to your hips, feeling his fingers on your skin where your shirt was riding up. His hands felt like fire and you relished in the intoxicating sensation.

You had abandoned all better judgment when you sat up to straddle Minho, lips never breaking contact. Your kisses began to get sloppy and he groaned as he moved from your lips to your jaw, to your ear, and to your neck. Oh god, yes. You gasped at the light sucking you felt on your pulse point. You instinctively pulled yourself closer, wanting more, needing more, moving from his lap to being flush against him. Also flush against… something else…

You were probably soaking in your panties as you felt the bulge beneath his jeans. Against all reason, your body naturally grinded against it. Both of you moaned in tandem and your head flew back in ecstasy, giving him better access to your neck. His gentle sucking turned into wet, open-mouthed kisses that trailed further and further down. 

You knew that you should probably stop, but it all felt too delectable to even consider that. Your nerves were vibrating from the feeling of his tongue and hands against you. You wanted to feel him everywhere. You couldn’t find the will to stop grinding your sensitive clit over his erection, making you ever wetter and the bulge ever harder. The both of you were a panting mess and the sounds of obscene moans filled the room as you grinded faster. “M-Min–” You could start to feel the warmth of his hands travel up your back under your shirt and you keened . “M-more…” You could feel his shaky hands act upon your whispered words as he started to fumble with the clasp of your bra…

The loud sound of the vibration of your phone on the table made the both of you jump and look at each other in realization of your current position. You flew off of his lap as if he were made of fire and looked at your phone. Chan .

“Oh fuck, he’s probably wondering where I’m at.” You ran your hand through your disheveled hair.

“O-oh y-yeah… go ahead, I’ll, um… I’ll go get some things together for you...” Minho stumbled into his room and closed the door in a rush.

You took a shaky breath and pressed your palm to the beading sweat on your forehead. It took a second for you to collect yourself and answer. “H-hey Channie.”

“Where the fuck are you? I’ve been worried sick!” He sounded mad, but you knew it was just because he had been overthinking your safety again.

“I’m at Min’s place, I… um… saw that you had someone over so I’m staying with him for tonight.” Silence followed.

Followed by more silence.

“Hello–?” You’d wondered if you lost connection.

“What did you… *ahem* see exactly?” He sounded terrified.

“Oh nothing much…” A sigh of relief from the other end. “Just your disgusting naked ass on our couch with some chick riding your dick like she was late on her rent.” You stated matter-of-factly, knowing he was probably dying on the inside.

“Noooo, fuck! Shit, Kiyomi, I’m so sorr–”

“Please, Chan, it’s fine. Having roommates doesn’t mean you have to hold back on getting your dick wet.”

“Ew.”

“Don’t ‘ew’ me! Your not the one who had to see your best friend fucking on your damn sofa! Which, by the way, gross . I expect you to disinfect that thing immediately.”

“I know hun, I’m sorry… I didn’t mea–” He sounded absolutely ashamed of himself.

“I know, I know. It’s done with, just fuck on your own bed in the future please?” You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“Of course, Kiyomi. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Damn straight you will.”

“So are you coming home now or staying there?” He sounded apprehensive and the previous actions between you and Minho flit through your mind.

“Chan, it’s like, what, eleven at night? No way I’m going home at this hour.” You said as you looked at the time on your phone.

“Yeah, you do sound pretty exhausted.”

“Work and drinking a fifth a bottle of gin will do that to you. Gross, I know.” You obviously hadn’t completely sobered up yet either because you had no idea why you said that.

“Wait, the two of you are drinking?” He started to sound like a riled up father-figure. Why were you not surprised?

“Calm down Chan. It’s Min we’re talking about here, he’s fine.” More than fine. Wait. Stop thinking these things stupid fucking brain!

“Yeah I guess you’re right, just make sure you’re getting plenty of sleep okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to drink plenty of water and brush your teeth.”

“Okay! Okay! I get it mom .” You muttered at him with a condescending tone.

“Good… Well… love you sis. I’ll see you tomorrow, kay?”

“Kay, love you too. G’night Channie.”

“Good night little Kiyomi.” You smiled to yourself as the call ended, heart warmed with affection for your best friend.

You were dragged back down to reality as you heard a small clearing of a throat behind you. You braced yourself for the worst as you turned around to face him. He was holding a towel, some clothes, and a toothbrush stacked in a neat pile.

“Everything cool?” He mustered up the courage to talk.

“Yeah, I told him to clean up whatever…” You shivered in disgust.”... mess they made and now he owes me.” You said with a smug smile. You walked up and grabbed the stack of items in his hands. “Thanks.” You tried to make a beeline for the shower but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, um, sorry about… earlier… I think we both just had too much to drink.” He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “I really hope things won’t be weird between us now.” Your heart ached with these words, wanting to erase any uncertain feelings.

“Of course it’ll be weird. But we are always weird so it comes with the territory right?” You joked to try and ease the tension. He still locked eyes with you with a nervous expression. You sighed and put a friendly hand on his own that was still placed on your shoulder, making him go rigid. “Don’t worry Min. We’re friends, no drunken mistake is going to change that.” Mistake, that’s all it was, a mistake. You internally tried to drill that into your brain. “It’s only weird if we make it weird, right?”

You felt him physically relax under your hand. “Right…”

“Cool, I'm go gonna get ready for bed and use all of your hot water. Good night!” You said with a convincing lilt of your voice.

“Heh, good night little mouse.” You could feel your face flush and you quickly turned to lock yourself in the bathroom before he saw.

You took an almost painfully hot shower and attempt to overpower the heat in between your legs as your mind unintentionally floated back on yours and Minho’s… encounter earlier. You tried to escape the thoughts as you got changed into Minho’s clothes. You tried to escape the thoughts as you brushed your teeth. You tried to escape them as you walked out to fall asleep on the couch. It was almost working, until you rounded the back of the couch to be met with the beautiful, fiery haired man that had been plaguing your mind, clad in nothing but some tattered sweatpants and sprawled along the length of the sofa.

You, once again, stared in awe at his beautiful naked and sculpted torso and had to shake yourself back to reality. “What’re you doing, Minnie? I want to go to sleeeeep.” You whined and nudged the arm that was holding his phone up to his face.

His eyes flicked over to his clothes that you’re wearing and then back at his phone as he responded. “You’re not sleeping on any damn couch ever again. Take the bed, the sheets are clean.”

You got slightly annoyed. “Damnit Minho, I told you that I’m perfectly fine with the couch. Now move your ass!”

He glared back at you. “Make me.”

Make him? God, he was being such a child. You played his little game and grabbed him by his ankles to swing them off the couch, but he didn’t budge an inch. You could see his thigh muscles clench beneath his pants so he could plant himself into the cushions. “Ugh! Minho!” You sat on top of him and tried to squeeze your butt in between Minho and the back of the couch, attempting to roll him off of it. He started laughing heartily at your struggling attempts.

“Tsk, you’re so stubborn.” You heard him mutter before he rolled out from under you and grabbed your wrists. Before you knew it, he was hiking you up over his shoulder like a ragdoll and carried you to the bedroom.

“Minho! What the hell?!” You threw tiny fists at his back but couldn’t stop the giggles that were bubbling up in your chest. You suddenly felt that same warmth in between your legs at the prospect of being manhandled as he pulled back the covers and threw you on the bed, wrapping you tightly into the sheets.

“Stay.” He pointed at you like an owner training his dog. You glared and poked your tongue out at him. Seeing as you weren’t trying to get up, he smiled. “Good girl.” A shiver wrecked your body from hearing the words. Go straight to hell, Lee Minho . He proudly walked out the door and gently shut it behind him, leaving you alone in the darkness, buried in his scent.

- - - - - - - - - -

Fortunately, things weren’t super awkward between the two of you after that. Yes there were times where physical contact was followed by blushing faces and study sessions where the two of you were alone seemed a bit... tense. But other than that, everything was completely fine. More than fine actually. And it seemed Chan had noticed as well.

“What’s going on between you and Minho?” The two of you were snuggled up under the blankets on the couch one Monday before bed, watching a classic anime you both loved when Chan questioned you out of the blue.

“W-what do you mean?” You nervously chuckled, being thrown completely off guard.

“I mean that you two seem to be getting pretty close lately.” He eyed you suspiciously.

“Channie.” You laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ve already told you, you don’t have to be jealous, hun. You will forever be the top spot amongst my friends.” You exaggerated your consolation.

He rolled his eyes at you and shrugged off your hand. “That’s not what I mean, Kiyomi. You two just…” You looked at him more intensely, scanning his features for a hint at what was going through his mind. “...I mean, okay. For example, he told me he was worried about you and your family situation. He obviously means something more to you if you are telling him about that shit.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “He said that?” He nodded in a demeanor that screamed ‘well duh’. “You didn’t tell him anything did you?”

“No, he didn’t ask.”

“Good.” You replied immediately. “I might have told him about my ‘couch’ situation growing up due to idle chatter and a dizzying amount of alcohol, but that’s it. I don’t ever want our friends to know more than that. I’d rather that life be dead and gone.” He sighed and held your hand.

“I know, hun. I know. I just want to protect you. I trust all of our friends unconditionally, so when it comes to anyone else, I don’t think you are quite ready for any… commitments yet. I don’t want you to feel backed into a corner ever again.”

You pulled your hand from his grasp. “What do you mean commitments?”

He looked at you like you had taken away his puppy. “I- I just mean I don’t think you’re ready for any kind of relationshi–”

“Channie, please. I know what I am and am not ready for. Are you seriously telling me not to date?” You huffed and looked away with a disbelieving smile.

He glowered at you and his voice became more stern. “No, I’m just saying that you shouldn’t tread in unknown waters. People are dangerous–”

“Oh please, drop the whole ‘father figure’ act, Chan. I can protect myself.” You started to feel hot steam rise up in your ears, ready to burst.

“Y/N, you are defenseless when I’m not with you and are nowhere near experienced enough to make that judgme–” His harsh voice popped your self control like a bubble.

“Oh, inexperienced because I’m a virgin? Or defenseless because I was almost raped? Which one is it Chan? Because as I see it, I am still older than you. My ‘defense’ comes from my willingness to attack a fully grown drug dealer and my ‘experience’ comes from years of hard work and intuition. Not just from getting someone's dick shoved in me, not Minho’s or whoever the fuck else’s you think I’m slutting around for.” You felt hot tears run down your face that you quickly wiped away. “Stop trying to baby me, Chan. If I want to date, I’m going to date. If I want to fuck around, I will fuck around. Whatever it is, it’s none of your goddamn business!”

You stood up and marched to your room. “Y/N, get back h–!” You slammed your door behind you before he could get in another word. You were fuming. Why did he always have to act like he was the big brother? Why in the world should your love life be dictated by what your past experiences were? And why the fuck did he have to bring Minho into that conclusion?

An image flashed through your mind as if to answer that last question. An image that was completely unwelcome while you were this heated and riled up. An image consisting of you and said redhead drunkenly grinding on his couch in your sploosh-drenched panties. All other thought processes flew out of your mind like dandelion seeds as more obscene images continued to invade your thoughts. You shook your head to try and get rid of them, although they were definitely more welcome than the encounter you just had with Chan. 

You decided to start up a hot bath in hopes of relaxing all of the tension buzzing around in your body. However, as you sunk into the much needed seamy pool of water, your mind drifted back to Minho. Why was he so infuriating? It’s my mind, I should at least have control over that. He had no right to make himself a home there, rent free even! You huffed in annoyance and closed your eyes, trying to think of the sudsy water surrounding you. 

You tried to meditate on your slow, controlled breaths. Listening to the foam of the bubbles dissipating in little crackling noises. Feel the warmth of the water encasing your legs, thighs, hips. Hips . His hands were even hotter than the water you were currently soaking in. The hands that ran over your neck, your waist, your hips, and under your shirt up your back.

Fucking Chan. If only Chan hadn’t called, you would finally find out what Minho felt like in other areas. You subconsciously dipped your hand down to your aching core, flicking the pad of your thumb over the sensitive bead of your clit. You let yourself be swallowed by pleasure as you felt your mind wander. Fuck it.

Could he have been thinking of going further too? He had been working on your bra, so you had a pretty good guess as to where it was leading. Your unoccupied hand snaked up your torso to rest on your breast, tweaking the red bud at the tip and rolling it between your fingers. You let out a long sigh. His hands would have held them so much better than you could. The rubbing on your clit took you back to the feeling of you grinding it against his rock-hard bulge. You added a bit more pressure to your efforts and let your imagination run rampant.

You envisioned yourself being pressed against his silky sheets and imagined being touched where you most wanted him. You let the finger that was circling your clit glide down in between your folds. You moaned as you entered yourself, imagining all the while that it was him entering you, curving right up into your sweet spot. Staring down at you with that intimidating gaze and those long, dark eyelashes that fanned over his cheeks. Drinking in your moans as if to quench his undying thirst. Ramming hard into you faster and faster and faster until you were cumming. And you were cumming. 

Your body went rigid through your orgasm, then completely limped overall as you came down from your high. You could call it ‘post-nut clarity’ or whatever, but you wanted Minho. You wanted one of your close friends more than you’ve ever wanted anyone. And that scared the shit out of you.

- - - - - - - - - -

It was a few days after your’s and Chan’s fight and you still refused to discuss it with him. You knew it was childish, but you were too proud to say anything until he apologized. So here you sat, completely devoid of all emotions in your art class next to Lee Minho, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

It was Thursday and the two of you had finished your individual assignments, yours being a self portrait and his being an abomination of a drawing of a cat. Or as he liked to call it ‘Lee-caso’s latest and greatest masterpiece’. The professor bathed the room in darkness as she projected a film of some sort of historical piece of art or whatever, and you could see Minho lean into you from your peripheral vision.

“Hey little mouse.” A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the blow of the warm whisper coming from his lips.

You leaned in closer as well, keeping your head facing forward so as to not arouse suspicion from the professor (and so you wouldn’t have to face him at this proximity). “You know you sound extremely creepy when you say that? Especially while whispering?”

He chuckled and you could swear you could hear a darkness behind it. You stiffened as he leaned in even closer. “Would you rather me whisper something else, Kiyomi?” Fuck… Shut the fucking fuck up… fucker.

White hot pumping started to feel painfully evident in your veins and you felt your ears burning bright red, hoping he, and Jeongin across the table, wouldn't notice. You jabbed your elbow at him in annoyance. “What do you want, Min?”

“I just wondered if you were going to Seungmin’s new place tomorrow night? I know you’re not working and he wanted us all to stay the night and get shit-faced to celebrate the liberation from his parents.”

You tore your gaze from the front of the room to face him, suffocatingly close. “A-all of us are going?” 

He flashed a crooked smile at you. “Yeah, you in?”

For some stupid ass reason your stomach was doing somersaults and you wanted to dunk your head in an ice bath from how heated you were. Why the fuck did this infuriating, beautiful piece of meat affect you so much? Stupid piece of meat.

You knew it wasn't not his fault, not really. He was only being himself, even if it wasn't at all fair that his natural self looked like a goddamn masterpiece every time you saw him. “For sure, I could definitely go for a little inebriation right now.” More than a little really.

“Cool, I’ll let him know. Oh, and you won’t see me for tutoring today or in class tomorrow ‘cause I have plans and an appointment during those times.”

“Oh, okay cool, what appointme–” You were cut off by the flickering of the lights being switched on and the professor announcing the dismissal of class.

“See you at Seungmin’s, Kiyomi.” Minho pinched your cheek briefly and jet straight out of class without another word. You cursed at yourself when even that tiniest touch affected you.

“You okay, noona? You’re looking kind of red.” You had an internal breakdown from Jeongin’s observation.

“Nah I’m fine, Innie. Just kind of hot in here.” Thankfully he just nodded his head and walked with you out of class. Whew, dodged that bullet.

That tutorless night was filled with you locking yourself in your room, away from Chan.

_________________________________________

Click here for Part Two

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

[hms-no-fun]

one thing i'm curious about is if you're currently reading / drawing inspiration from any other contemporary HS fanworks. i know KITTYQUEST just dropped its epilogue like less than a week ago, so it's definitely a big era for Homestuck Fanworks That Have Jade Harley Have Kids lmaoooo

i may talk a big game about how you can't hope to substantively discuss what homestuck *is* without also examining its fanworks, but unfortunately i am myself woefully under-read and out of date. i kinda stopped reading homestuck fanworks after 2020 because. well. at the risk of getting into the weeds of fandom drama. all the ones i really liked stopped updating when the fandom environment turned from passively toxic to aggressively poisonous, and there was at least a 50/50 chance that the creator of any given active fanwork was either with or supported the group of people who wielded that poison.

that feeling is far less prominent now but i am still skeptical any time a new homestuck fanwork gets popular. they have to pass a litmus test first: is this person shitty or weird about the epilogues/hs2? they don't have to have liked either work necessarily, they just have to acknowledge that those works exist, have influence, and are worth talking about, even if they personally don't want to do the talking. god this all sounds so petty, but people lost jobs over what happened. i don't think i can have a positive interaction with anyone who is simply unwilling to have an in-depth conversation about the contents of a text without feeling the need to pass objective moral judgments at every turn, nor do i think i will get much out of the fanworks such a person might produce. so i save us all the trouble and don't bother!

that said, i quite like Kittyquest. i'm way behind on it though, as i am on everything. that Kitty showed up not too long after Yiffy actually inspired me to create Edie, because i love the idea of "Jade's Daughter" being this extraordinarily flexible archetype. it feels like kind of a combo-breaker considering how rigid homestuck's archetypes typically are. i also very much admire Kittyquest's commitment to fleshing out the culture and history of Earth C, especially in the ways it seems to deliberately break from what we've seen of it in post-canon. the lack of worldbuilding the epilogues is one of its biggest weaknesses in my opinion, so i always like it when a story tries to pick up that slack. the artstyle being so divorced from homestuck's yet still somehow indebted to it really encouraged me to try different things with the types of images we started putting into godfeels. what i love about post-canon broadly is just how varied it is artistically, stylistically. i think it's good and compelling and healthy that so much art in this space is willing to play with these things in such constructive ways.

the other contemporary fanwork that really has influence on godfeels is Vast Error. which i am also behind on. but Snowbound Blood is a personal favorite whose tone (at its best) matches the vibes i'm going for in 3.2. the biggest i guess Thing for me wrt Vast Error is how different its universe engine session is from what we saw in homestuck. its logic, its mechanics, its purpose-- the whole thing is so alien, and yet it has Prospit and Derse, it has Spades Slick and other such guys, it has Skaia, so there's clear continuity. if we imagine the universe engine as a procedurally generated video game, these commonalities suggest that there are stable constants in the formula. it was that alongside all the other wildly different fansessions on MSPFA that started the gears turning which would eventually lead to the EWL. the idea of an organization of castoffs from the infinite fanontinuum of alternate sessions, who study the constants and variables across countless UE instances and build squads of sailors who specialize in particular behavioral clusters. oh this session has an overpowered Jack making it unviable? send in the Jills, they'll show him what's what.

i guess if there's a thread here it's that i'm most inspired by what metatextual trends suggest about the hypothetical Ultimate Self of any given homestuck narrative convention. i'm not saying that's a good thing but i guess it has worked out okay so far.

i could shout out other fanworks that i haven't read but i think i would rather hear from y'all. what's out there right now? what's good? i should probably catch up

[donnerpartyofone]

I'm trying to picture the logical outcome of that rhetoric going around about how we should all reblog people's art and fan content out of the goodness of our hearts--like just to satisfy everybody's cravings for attention, as opposed to reblogging if and when we actually like something enough to want it on our own blogs. I mean there's no other reason NOT to reblog something than that you just don't enjoy it enough, so the only reason to press people about reblogs is to override that basic lack of desire and pleasure. With that said:

Let's say person X is earnestly writing and recording really shitty music. You don't like it, but you feel duty-bound to make them happy by acting like you think it's good so you reblog it, all of it, every time. And let's also say your supposedly heroic urge to promote things you don't believe in, to make your blog represent stuff you don't actually care for just to create a feeling of artificial popularity for someone else, catches on, and we all start doing it. Now everyone is playing music they don't like, or are even indifferent to, and we're putting it on all of our blogs, like you're covering your room in posters for something totally uninspiring, that you're only involved with out of pity. And then one day we all find ourselves middle-aged and tired without that much money or energy to go around, and we're still dragging our asses to shows that start too late and go too late, trudging from the bar to the bathroom as the only way of breaking up the monotony of politely sticking it out until your friend goes on--who actually isn't even your friend, they're just some rando on social media who everyone collectively decided to boost out of the misguided notion that we are all owed zillions of notes and followers just because we want them, and now this person gets to go about their days imagining that they're deservedly famous and never learning things like, for instance, you should make art for your own personal satisfaction and not to get everyone else's approval, or that being loved by a few people who really understand you is better than being popular with masses of strangers, or that there are forms of success that aren't just doing numbers on some cretinous website.

One of the more important parts of the above is, person X is not your friend, they're just some guy. In real life, there is a good probability that you will sometimes have a friend who makes bad art or bad music or writes bad poetry etc, and you will feel obligated to go to their show/reading/etc and act supportive and come up with nice things to say until you're exhausted to the point of death. And you sacrifice your time and comfort like this because X is someone in your life who you care about, even if it doesn't feel completely honest to be this positive about everything they do, it's worth it because you're invested in how they feel (this is providing you don't have more of a tough love relationship, which is maybe ideal, but not everybody does so well with that, so ANYWAY). And if you're part of an actual community of artists, everybody winds up buying each other's zines and being the only people at each other's shows and basically just passing the same $10 bill around in a circle forever and man is THAT exhausting, but at least you all know the score, even if no one is saying it.

But what I'm saying is, this is the burden of relationships, the result of not being able to necessarily choose who you love. The most common type of relationship on Tumblr is between strangers; I will never know anything about the vast majority of people whose posts I see, even that I like. I will make some friends and acquaintances, but for the most part I'm here to have my own experience, to follow people because I like what they do, to interact with their stuff for no reason other than that I enjoy it. So for me, the Tumblr pitch is basically "Come to this site, people post all kinds of cool shit and you can amuse yourself for hours!" The pitch should not be "Come to this site where people will conspire to make a charity case out of you by making you think they like your stuff when they really don't," nor should it be "Come to this site where you have a moral obligation to help promote all kinds of random crap you might think is lame or boring, but you're forced to because you feel sorry for strangers who make bad art and you don't think they should have to learn that no one owes them a successful artistic career and popularity isn't everything!" I mean that is a nightmare. If you're lucky you'll have enough of that going on in your real life that you definitely won't want to join a website where you have to do it for people you don't even know. If you're extra lucky, you'll never have to do anything like this at all!

PS If half your likes and reblogs are inspired by charity and not informed by your actual taste, then your approval becomes totally meaningless and nobody should care what you have to say. Same goes for always agreeing with whoever is talking to you and always saying you're sorry even if no one asked for an apology. It's a way of being a liar. You turn your own word into mud.

[sagegarnish]

I DO understand the frustration of having a rarepair, of seeing a ship and dynamic you think is SO GOOD and "why can't other people see it?" Some of my ships only have two fanfics and then one of them is MINE. But the "solution" is not to yell at people for not making other fanworks. If someone told you YOUR ship was shitty, and that you should write this other pair instead, would that make you want to write it? Probably not, right? It's the same for other people, even if you haven't figured that out. OTHER PEOPLE ALSO DO NOT LIKE THAT.

"How did THAT pair get so many fics? That's fucked up, when OTHER PAIR is right there!!"

The secret: Positivity.

Fandom communities where people are positive and encourage others are the best soil to grow in. Big Bangs, Fic Fests, Pairing Weeks, art/fic trades...and a general sense of welcoming to newcomers and multishippers. That is how you get the big numbers. If every time someone sees your ship on their TL and they associate it with a sense of negativity, and dread, that's NOT GOOD. Be an evangelist for your ship! When you post about your ship, pretend you're making a pitch for why it's good, not why OTHER ships are bad.

Think about reasons why you ship something. Talk about those reasons! No one is out there shipping characters "because the other pair sucks". Keep in mind that many of the most popular ships are that popular because the already experienced and prolific fic and art creators found it and said "Oh wow this is great, I gotta do something for this ship!" The goal is to draw EVERYONE IN, to welcome people.

Many of the ships that people complain about "not having much content" are the same ones where the negative posts about that topic is often all people see. They witness the complaints and bad behavior first. Many people think "Wow, that ship fandom is full of mean people, and they kinda scare me, so I'm not going to make anything."

I hope this was not too lecturey, because I see the real true emotion behind the complaints. It SUCKS when you can't find fics/art of a pairing! It can feel very alone and frustrating! I know that's why there's so much negativity.

But the negativity only increases the problem.

Anyway, next time you feel annoyed or frustrated by the lack of fanworks or attention for a genre or pair or dynamic, try organizing an event. Start small! Maybe just your own mutuals. Or go big! But don't police what other ships those people enjoy.

And most of all, be kind.

[chubs-deuce]

Fuck you modern instagram, fuck you complete lack of content filter, fuck you grindset posting, fuck you endless string of the same 12 automated tiktok reposts with shitty ads halfway in, fuck you art theft, fuck you nft bots, fuck you worthless dashboard that gives me more ads and suggested content than shit I actually followed for and even then never the most recent posts, fuck you "you have to post reels to be visible" algorithm that forces people to crosstag and spam videos bc they don't get seen any other way and completely render finding anything you're actually looking for impossible, fuck you random restriction of indviduals for no reason at all while literal nazis and white supremacists stay up forever unaffected, fuck you facebook with your metaverse (fuck you fuck you) and blatantly greedy ass strategies (fuck you fuck you fuck you) and fuck you for turning social media into a money making machine rather than a place to connect with others (fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you)

[aller-geez]

Getting to know: Sven Wistari

26 years // he/him // gay // Cheshire Cat Shifter

Full name: Sven Rhys Wistari

Nickname: S7en, or just 7

Date Of Birth: May 2nd

Big Three: Taurus ☀️ Pieces 🌕 Aquarius ↗️

(under construction!!!!)

Physical Appearance —

Age: 26 years

Eye Color: orange

Hair Color: Teal & Orange

Weight: 122 pounds

Height: 5’6

Race: Cheshire Cat (Rusty Spotted Cat) Shifter

Distinguishing Marks or Characteristics: ALWAYS has his cat ears and tail out. Wears a nose chain, with two piercings on his bottom lip (spider bites) and an eyebrow piercing

Personality —

Greatest Strength: his creativity~ he can always find a way to turn something that looks shitty to someone else into his own kind of masterpiece.

Greatest Weakness: perfectionism and lack of emotional regulation

Soft Spot: Elex

Mannerisms: if in the right setting, he can be very extroverted and outgoing, however he can quickly get into his own head and become withdrawn or even hostile. Sven drinks more than your average shifter, but he doesn’t care. Whatever it takes to get through the day, yknow?

Miscellaneous Trivia —

Sven’s hands are almost always occupied by either his next art piece, or his prized professional camera that’s almost never out of his sight.

Extremely bad eyesight. He commonly wears glasses or contacts, depending on his mood, but can barely see 10 feet in front of him without them

He has the fetish, but if asked he will deny it, feeling quite embarrassed by the kink altogether, regardless of his boyfriend, Elex, also having a snz kink. Other people sneezing around him tends to fluster him and make him avoid eye contact.

Sneeze Content —

ALLERGIES

Cat dander (his own included..)

Feathers~

How severe are they?

Depends on the day. Some days, his body lets him go unbothered with his routine allergy medication. Other days, he has to cancel photo shoots and other work related activities, take a hot shower and try to sleep them off.

Do they get sick often?

He has an amazing immune system, rarely falling ill. However if something manages to slip past his impenetrable immune defenses, it always results in either pneumonia or bronchitis, settling deep into his chest.

How bad is it usually?

Usually so congested that his fits decrease in number, however the newly added cough makes them sound way more intense

Do they stifle?

Not technically? Mostly they come out so fast he doesn’t even have time to make the initial gasping inhale sound 🫠

How loud are their sneezes?

Extremely quiet. Simply ducking into another room can easily obscure any fit he may have in front of someone.

What do they sneeze into?

Usually his hands, sometimes the open air if he’s caught off guard

How often do they sneeze?

Often! Every day starts out with 4-6 as soon as he opens his eyes, and it’s up to his nose whether or not he’ll be a mess that day~

How many times do they sneeze in a fit?

10 is a common number in a fit if he’s not sick, if he’s sick, usually only 4-5 harsh sneezes at a time.

Do they have build-ups or are they sudden?

Depends. Sometimes he has enough warning to excuse himself from the room if he happens to be working with a client, other times he scares away the perfect shot of ground squirrels in the front yard from an unexpected fit.

Do they sneeze in public?

He REALLY hates to as someone always tends to comment on his cute his sneezes were, making him blush and begin to stumble over his words.

Some examples of their sneezes?

Ktch!

Nkcht!

Hh‘gsch!!

Nngch!

H’tshhkt!!

ngsh!

H’NgXt!

Backstory —

(Coming soon…)

Reference Sheet —

(Okay no ref sheet, but chibi head?)