#than in my eyes i will associate with you but won't have any

[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[kasagia]

Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before? 

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"Safe and sound....Kinda" pt. 2

You went M.I.A. and the LADS Men are stressed!

Xavier

"It's been almost a week Jeremiah we need to check places the hunter association won't look" Xavier was already on the move heading towards the first No-hunt Zone of many. Jeremiah trailed behind him almost jogging trying to keep up.

"I understand that Xavier, but you're not in the right head space to-" Jeremiah swallows his words when Xavier whipped around abruptly getting in his face. "to what? Find the love of my life? I'm done waiting around twiddling my thumbs she could be out there dying for all we know"

Xavier turned on his heels and continued on his path "If your way of helping is planting seeds of doubt then don't follow me"

After two days of non-stop searching he did it. In the deepest parts of the forest Xavier found himself at the tip of your Hunters sword nearly taking his head off. His eyes widened in shock just as yours did when you realized who you were looking at "Xav......?" Your words faded as you dropped your sword and fell into his chest almost knocking him over.

"Where have you been? What are you doing in this zone its dangerous"

"I got pulled into rift I've been fighting alone for five days" Your breathing was labored before you began to cough. Xavier flinched from the death grip you had on his arm as you tried to keep yourself upright. That's when he noticed your ripped clothes. Since when was your uniform so short and revealing?

It wasn't.

You'd been tearing you clothes to bandage your wounds, but they weren't doing so well considering they were soaked through in old and fresh blood. Your shoes were missing along with your socks. "I kept fighting because I knew...." A cough tore from your chest making your throat burn as you coughed up blood. "....I knew you'd find me" Your grip loosened as you went slack in his arms.

"Of course I'd find you" Xavier managed you wrangle you onto his back as he sent his coordinates to Jeremiah to come and pick the two of you up. "Just hang on a little longer"

Sylus

You dragged your shoulder along the wall of a back alleyway before dropping falling flat on the ground. You don't know how many days it's been since you told Sylus you'd be back in less than a day. Your vision blurred as your head swam from exhaustion and dehydration.

"I see her!" That voice sounds familiar....

You feel two sets of hands on you pulling you into a sitting position, but your head is so heavy. "Just let me sleep for a while"

"No you have to stay up Boss is almost here" Luke?

"Stay with us" Kieran?

You felt that comforting red and black mist engulf you and soon you were cradled in Sylus' arms. If you didn't know any better you'd say Sylus looked as if he'd been crying. His eyes seemed bloodshot, but what do you know you can barely keep your eyes open. You're probably seeing things.

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I dropped my phone & a wanderer shattered my watch .... along with my wrist .... I figured if I got close enough to the N109 Zone .... you would find me" A weak smile graced your lips. "Looks like I was right"

"Let's get you home" He whispered and it was the last thing you heard before your head bobbed one last time and darkness consumed you.

Sylus made sure you had the best medical care money can buy while staying in the comfort of his king sized bed. He wouldn't leave your side as you slowly recovered. "Were you crying over me?"

"Shut up and take your pain meds"

Sylus is hard to write because that man got Mephisto on our ass 24/7

Zayne & Rafayel here ♡

[yuri-is-online]

And in With the New (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, their ex is implied to be kind of a shit person, other dorms can be found here (x) Ortho is somewhat included in Idia's part but does not have one of his own.

Kalim- "Do you have any other things from your world?"

Kalim has expressed a desire for you to see as much of Twisted Wonderland as possible, and he stands by that, but it would really suck if the only physical connection you had to your home was something that brought up painful memories. Your past relationship isn't something that makes him jealous, just concerned since it clearly causes you distress. He can wait to get you more appropriate clothing until after he makes sure you're ok. If the sweatshirt really is the only thing you have from home, he'll be asking if there are any foods you remember or activities you liked to do with the people you actually cared about that the two of you can recreate in Twisted Wonderland. That way you won't have to feel the need to hold onto something painful and he gets to make you happy.

Jamil- "Then why didn't you get rid of it before you came here?"

On the one hand he does feel a bit second rate at the thought of you holding onto something form an ex, but his primary concern is the implication that your financial straights have always been this... dire. He definitely wants to know about your previous relationship so he can judge them for how much better he is, but once he notices that the memories are a bit on the traumatic side he stops pushing and feels just the slightest bit guilty. But really, if it's something that hurts you to hold onto then why do it? You aren't him, you don't need to do that, people love you and want to take care of you, him included. He's not going to just give you his hoodie, he would literally die of embarrassment, but he does get you a sweatshirt. If for no other reason than to keep him from staring holes into your back now that he knows where the other one came from.

Vil- "It doesn't suit you at all."

If his treatment of Epel is anything to go by, Vil is not above spending money on something he considers to be a pet project. Not that this... friendship is one of those, nor is he particularly jealous of some no name extra who was too blind to beg on their hands and knees to get back in your good graces. Not that he needs to do that you understand; as arrogant as Vil has a reputation for being, he is one of the people who has been more genuine when expressing concern and gratitude for you. His comment isn't meant to be a slight, clothing that makes you feel bad about yourself is failing to do its job as fashion, and as a world class super model that is unacceptable. In other words get in the car looser we're going shopping.

Rook- "Ah, I thought it was something like that."

Is it bad if he says he meant he hoped it was something like that? Not that he was rooting for your ex to be a bad person, he would never wish a subpar lover on you. But when he saw the tattered edges of your sweatshirt and how it clashed with the things you bought for yourself, he hoped that maybe someone in your world hadn't wanted your hands to be cold. If that's not the case, then if you are ok with letting it go as a lover of romance who is he to deny you your freedom? Granted tossing roses onto a fire while you burn an ugly sweatshirt is both very extra and very Rook but hey. He's having fun and you've got a new jacket.

Epel- "Afford shamford I could'a just made ya one!"

Offering their sweetheart their hoodie is something manly tall guys get to do and Epel has really really REALLY. Been looking forward to getting to that point in his relationship with you. He wants to feel like a real man, like your real man to be specific. The thought of some other piece of shit getting to do that first and treating you like a used dish rag pisses him off. Best believe he is huffing and puffing his way back to Grandma Felmier's boot camp with a mission to do you one and your ex two better by knitting you a pullover to go with your uniform. Everything that comes from Harveston is a top quality product prefect, better than whatever you left behind he guarantees it.

Idia- "So this is that kind of route huh..."

Of course you had a partner back in your world, if he can see your good points then a normie absolutely could. That doesn't make you less appealing, it just makes him feel all that more convinced he doesn't have a chance. He's halfway through whipping out his tablet to excuse himself when Ortho asks what you meant by "shitty memories" and they both get blindsided by just how much vitriol you have for a person whose clothing you technically kept on you. And suddenly he's back in business because there are few things that unite Idia with someone faster than a good old fashion bitch fest. Sure, his insults are weirdly possessive of you, but if he had any doubts about your feelings for this person he doesn't now! He's never heard you talk about anyone like this before and he finds it so attractive he almost forgets to short circuit when Ortho convinces you to try on his hoodie. Almost.

Malleus- "..."

Sometimes he feels like a broken record, constantly marveling at how little fear you have of him, but really child of man, you have no fear. Malleus has very little in the way of emotional intelligence, so he doesn't fully understand that what he is feeling is jealousy he just knows the thought of you with someone else's clothes hurts. Unfortunately for you both, in addition to not being emotionally intelligent he also isn't with the times and there is a non zero percent chance he will be bringing you a cloak and be genuinely confused when you don't immediately replace your old hide for his. (Lilia takes responsibility for that, he was making a joke honest.) Oh? The point was it's supposed to be something he wore so you can feel closer to him when he's gone? Well why didn't you say so child of man, he is more than willing to offer you a scale- what do you mean you can't wear that either?

Lilia- "Oh? Are you asking for one of mine?"

Shame has not been a word in Lilia's vocabulary since long before you showed up prefect. He always buys oversized clothing because of how cute the long sleeves look on him, but oh they would be so much cuter on you prefect, don't you want to see? Oh and while the two of you are at it, why don't you let him paint your nails and do your eye shadow. He's never had one of those slumber party things you humans do, you should make a night of this so you can both get a new experience out of this. He can have a slumber party and you can be the center of someone's world. Also what do you mean you're supposed to summon the devil at these things, he's already here.

Silver- "Would you like one of mine?"

Lilia raised a very good boy who thinks nothing of offering the shirt off his back to save someone in distress. Silver isn't a jealous person by nature, he's more concerned with making sure you are safe and taken care of than he is making sure you don't still have feelings for your ex. Above all else, Silver wants to be a safe space for you to come home to at the end of the day, like a proper knight in shining armor. Though he does have to admit, you look really nice in Diasomnia colors, they're really close to Briar Valley's so if you decide to come and visit he's assures you that you will fit right in. He's sure his father would be very happy to play host. Maybe too happy.

Sebek- "HOW UTTERLY DISGRACEFUL."

You think he's upset at you but he's not, that's made painfully clear with the rant he starts to go on about proper courtship procedure. Offering clothing to someone is supposed to be a sign of high affection, nay eternal devotion! And it suddenly becomes clear to you that Sebek has somehow managed to confuse the concept of a stolen hoodie and a knight's favor. He seems to have managed to convince himself, in the span of two seconds, that you are wearing this not because it is one of your only pieces of clothing, but because your ex convinced you that they're the only one who could love you which IS NOT TRUE. YOU UNDERSTAND HUMAN? DO YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND?

[hotyanderedaddies]

Spending the Night with Your Yandere Vampire Boyfriend

[Yandere! Vampire x Human! GN Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

You've been with your new boyfriend for a few weeks by now, and things were developing really quickly. Much faster than any of your previous relationships.

Your new boyfriend, whom you playfully call Daddy, recently revealed to you that he's a vampire which was a total shock to you.

Well, maybe you should've caught on when he'd only come around at night when the sun was down, you never saw him eat any food, he seemed to avoid garlic at all costs, and he was super pale... and he had vampire fangs.

A total surprise.

Either way, you weren't too scared when Daddy revealed his "secret" to you.

Daddy is perfect boyfriend, honestly.

Daddy knows all of your likes and dislikes, and even loves all of your hobbies. The two of you share the same interests in books, movies, video games-- everything!

And you better since he spent such a long time following you around, studying your every move. Watching. Waiting.

Daddy is a pure gentleman, always treating you with the upmost respect. He virtually worships the ground you walk on, treating you like you're his precious treasure.

Because you are his. All his. And only his.

Daddy really seemed to walk straight out of a daydream, rescuing you from such a dreary life of working retail and attending boring college classes. He really helped to lift you up, especially after so many of your personal relationships seemed to have tapered off once you'd started college.

He only got rid of those who would try to take you away from him. Honest. He did it all for your relationship.

So when the two of you were on one of your dates at Daddy's house, he suggested that you stay the night (well, the morning). He had some sleep aid that he could give you to help you fall asleep during the day; although, dating a vampire was kind of throwing your sleep schedule out of whack.

At first, you were a little nervous since the two of you hadn't done anything past making out, but with one look at the eager face Daddy had, you melted.

"Sure, Daddy," you smiled.

Daddy's smile stretched out his handsome face, and his vampire fangs even poked out.

He grabbed you by the hand, his cool fingers interlocking with yours, as he led you up the stairs to the bedroom. You've never been up to his bedroom since the two of you almost never made it past the couch, so you were a little excited--

The bedroom door swung open and in the middle of the room was the "bed".

"A c-coffin?" you stuttered, your stomach falling to the floor.

"Of course, Darling," Daddy chuckled, dragging you closer to the coffin. "I'm a vampire after all. What did you think I slept in?"

"A bed...?"

"But then how would I keep the sunlight off me?"

...oh.

The coffin seemed to be standard-sized (you've been to one or two funerals, so they weren't completely unfamiliar to you), and it was lined with a clean, white satin that looked incredibly soft to the touch.

But it was a coffin!

And your frantic human brain couldn't help but associate it with death! Hell no, you weren't getting in that thing!

"Um, Daddy?" you mumbled, uncertainty drenching your small voice. "M-maybe we could rush to my apartment to use my bed and I'll put up some curtains?"

Daddy's smile disappeared, quickly being replaced with a deep frown. He narrowed his red eyes in your direction, tightening the grip he had on your hand.

"We won't make it before the sun rises," he growled, his voice deep and curt. "Now, get in our coffin."

When you hesitated, Daddy lost his patience, wrapping both of his steel arms around you. The vampire was much stronger than you are, so he had absolutely no problem forcing you into the tight confines of the small coffin.

Daddy crawled inside right after you, grabbing the lid and slamming it down with a bang. An audible click sounded out, and you were trapped in the dark coffin.

You couldn't see a thing thanks to how dark it was.

The coffin was so compact that you could feel multiple sides-- the back pressed against you and was rather soft, but you could also feel the one of the sides and the top touching you. It was enclosed all around you, trapping you, leaving almost no room for you to even move or wiggle around.

You could barely move.

You could barely breathe.

But there was a cold, hard feature inside the coffin with you, and it snaked both of its large arms around you and roughly yanked you into it.

Daddy buried his nose in your air and moaned loudly as he inhaled your scent.

"Calm down, Darling," he cooed. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you."

Your heart raced in your chest and you felt dizzy from your panicked hyperventilating.

"It's okay, my sweet darling," Daddy continued to whisper into your ear, keeping you trapped against him. "I know it's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be worth it, I promise."

He pressed his cool lips against your forehead.

You tried to squirm away, but he was tight against your front and the side of the coffin was tight against your back.

There was no room to move away.

At all.

You're trapped.

"Get some sleep, Darling," Daddy yawned. "I love you."

[acid-ixx]

I truly LOVE THIS SERIES!!! I also read the reader as female too. I really like how you delve into damiens mind on this one. He is the one I was curious about the direction you will take him in with dealing with reader. I especially can't wait for Jason's too. Will any of the batfam be romantic toward reader in future chapters?

directory !

a/n: tysm for liking it so far !! for me i prefer it if the reader is gn/male (since im also a trans guy and it's hard to find content of my preference. it's funny how a lot of ppl in my inbox call me a girl bec i am not 😭). also none of them are going to turn romantic later on. i prefer strictly writing them as platonic in the series since it's often stated that they see you purely as their sibling who differs entirely from them. although i might make another series where it is romantic yandere, but for the a&a series, they're all platonic.

yeah, damian so far is a really complicated case. both him and the reader share a trait for contradicting feelings and that really ties with them being the only ones having blood ties in the family. which drives damian's obsession even further because in my opinion he's the most perceptive (and one of the least delusional alongside jason) of your emotions, knowing the right words to tick you off or make your vulnerable.

damian is also pretty touch-starved for a sense of normalcy that he couldn't achieve with his siblings who are raised to be crimefighters (so the way he sees his relationship towards his siblings would be more of a vigilante partner than family), but once he's matured enough, he'll soon realize just how much he craves for affection. having someone like you, who's the one trying to just live, and sharing blood with him (because despite trying to distance himself away from his assassin past, he'll always have this toxic mindset of "blood is thicker than water" and you're proof of that), damian pretty much demands attentions left and right.

when i mean he demands your attention, that means he also needs affection, both physical and emotional. that means he wants you to coddle him the same way dick coddles you. he wants to bond with you through quality time so that means you'll always find your schedule packed with activities you'll spend with damian, to both make up for lost time and as a quiet apology towards you that, no, he's not gonna threaten you with a sword anymore— he even makes a show of keeping his weapons somewhere far away from you, that your baby brother is vulnerable towards you and he means no harm.

his methods of gaining your spotlight are really inconvenient, but don't point it out because all he'll do is pout towards you whilst he'd grab your hand, preferably to take you somewhere away from all your other siblings who are trying their damn best also trying to take your attention.

meanwhile jason is more protective and would rather not let you go through the same path as he did; being impulsive and letting yourself get in danger. unfortunately, the reader in the series is already pretty much in their worst state and that makes jason's need to protect you from harm's way (just like bruce), especially right after meeting him in the series would make him realize that you weren't a replacement to him and that you both pretty much share the same trauma when it comes to seeing your mother being taken away from you.

just like dick, he pretty much sees you as a kid. but unlike dick, the more you show your impulsive actions and display breakdowns, the more he acknowledges that yes, you do have flaws and you need space so he won't shove his affection down your throat but he will make sure his angel is properly taking care of themself right after, he'll make drink water right after a crying session, make you eat something if you haven't, and if you're scared of criminals trying to target you in the streets, then don't worry because the red hood will guarantee to associate you with fear.

fear that if they even dare to lay their eyes on you, their eyeballs would be ripped out of their sockets. only god knows what would happen if jason were to find one of them having filthy intentions towards his angel.

unfortunately for you, if you don't like it when an intimidating, brooding man who considers himself your brother is standing by your door, then you're out of luck because he won't even budge unless you invite him over. his obsession with you is very subtle but unlike bruce with a no-kill code, jason won't hesitate putting a buller through someone's head once his angel is in danger.

though if you don't want to see jason snap, then it'd be better if you wouldn't put yourself in danger on purpose because he will get violent towards anyone who even tries to lay their hands on you and although his grip on your body is soft, as if making sure that he wouldn't be harming you; you would further increase the chances of being locked up in your own safe haven if you try to purposely get yourself killed because that gives him all the signs that you're incapable of taking care of yourself and he wouldn't want a repeat of what happened to him with you when it comes to any other criminals.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [6]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 5 | Fic Masterlist | Part 7

"Please enjoy your meal, master and mistress. We hope the dishes are to your liking." The servants bowed before leaving the hall after serving dinner for the night.

Sitting up straight, hands folded on your lap, you patiently awaited Seonghwa to begin eating. The enticing aroma of the dishes made your mouth water, and your eyes gleamed as you observed your husband's hands reaching for his chopsticks.

He noticed your gaze, smiled, and rather than taking a piece of meat for himself, he surprised you by placing it in your bowl instead, "Eat up; you must be hungry."

The general sighed as he saw you hesitating to start eating until he had taken the first bite. Amused, he set down his chopsticks and watched as you slumped in your seat, seemingly disappointed that he hadn't begun eating yet.

"Why are you still sitting around? Go ahead and eat," He said, and your eyes widened, "But, my lord, how can I—"

Shaking his head, he picked up his spoon and reached for a tofu dish he had noticed you eyeing for some time, scooping up just enough before holding it to your lips, "Here, you want this, don't you?" Before you could protest, he pushed it closer to you, "Open up before I change my mind," and you couldn't resist, taking a bite.

Eunsook couldn't help snickering into her fist as she witnessed the adorable interaction. You chewed cluelessly on your food, eyes sparkling as you savoured the flavour, while Seonghwa continued to eat with the same spoon, indirectly sharing a kiss with you.

Throughout dinner, your husband focused more on taking care of you, he filled your bowl with a variety of dishes and wiped the corners of your lips whenever your excitement caused a mess. After finishing his own meal, he continued to watch you with admiration as you kept eating.

Concern crept in when he noticed your movements slowing down, and you started breathing rather heavily. It seemed like you were already full but were pushing yourself to eat more, "Hey, slow down. Are you full? You need to stop eating if you are."

You shook your head, reaching for another slice of rolled omelette. Furrowing his brows, he realised you were struggling to swallow. Why were you continuing to eat if you were already so full? It was as if you didn't know when your next meal would be, and you were trying to consume as much as possible for the time being.

"Stop, stop," He repeated firmly, gently holding your wrist and taking the chopsticks from your hand, "Look at me," You took your eyes off the food and finally met his gaze, "Are you afraid you won't get to eat again?" You avoided eye contact and that confirmed his suspicion, it broke his heart to see you still in survival mode.

Feeling like you had done something wrong, you bowed your head and nervously fiddled with your fingers, "I-I'm sorry... I just have never had a proper meal like this before, a-and..."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He assured, moving to hold your hands and rubbing his thumb over your skin comfortingly, "You're the mistress of this estate now. You can eat anything you want at any time. All you have to do is call for the servants, and they will serve you. As long as I live, you never have to worry about not being able to eat again, you hear me?"

You nodded, moved by the sincerity in his tone and the warmth in his touch and gaze, "I understand. Thank you, my lord."

However, he seemed unsatisfied with something you said, contemplating for a moment before murmuring, "Seonghwa. Just Seonghwa, please."

Your eyes widened, "Wh-what?"

He looked away from your questioning gaze, embarrassed, "You're my wife now, there's no need to be so formal. Just call me Seonghwa from now on."

"Okay... S-Seonghwa." You muttered unsurely, suppressing the blush on your cheeks as he lifted his eyes to stare at you in wonder.

Little did you know, the sound of his name coming from you melted his heart, further deepening the growing affection he had for you. Though it had only been a day or two since he met you, and despite his initial misguided disdain, once he learned the truth about you, an irrational desire to protect you took root within him. For the first time in forever, he found someone worth caring for.

As much as the head maid enjoyed watching the two of you exchange deep gazes all night, the rest of the servants in charge of the dining hall were waiting to clear up and get some rest.

With a loud clearing of her throat, she finally broke you both out of your little staring contest, "Master, mistress, are you finished with dinner? It's getting rather late now, we should probably make haste and clean up the hall before we attract all sorts of insects."

Suddenly remembering that you weren't alone in the hall, the general swiftly collected himself from his slightly flustered state, "Of course, send the maids in. Is the mistress' new quarters prepared?" He checked with Eunsook, moving to help you out of your seat with your hand still in his.

The elderly woman, with a concealed smile, nodded and bowed, "It is, master. I'll leave it to you to show mistress to her room then."

You waved to her as you followed your husband out of the hall, "Thank you for the food, Eunsook. Please tell the kitchen staff they did a wonderful job; every dish was incredibly tasty!"

She nodded with a beam, bowing again, "Yes, mistress. They'll be happy to hear that."

Leading you along, Seonghwa made an effort to appear composed, attempting to hide the joy he felt from walking with your hands intertwined. The passing servants were surprised at the rare sight of their master and mistress walking hand in hand. As they bowed, their smiles widened when you waved at them, and the general's soft chuckle didn't escape their notice.

It amused them how resolute he had initially been about getting rid of you, and now he seemed to have a hard time tearing his eyes away from you for even a moment.

"Come on, you'll love the new quarters," He said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You raised your eyebrows, "But what about my previous room? That was fine too."

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly at the sudden reminder of The Cold Palace, "Well, I may have broken the door, but that's not the point. The point is that you are now officially my wife, and Lady Park deserves nothing but the best, understood?" You nodded, simply feeling grateful for everything.

"We're here. Welcome to the House of Lotus."

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the beautiful private garden surrounding what was to be your new quarters. A pavilion on the right of the main chamber faced a small pond filled with lotus flowers, "You can relax over there, have some tea and read when the weather is good. This is all yours. If you ever need me for anything, I'm just down the path; we're practically neighbours."

The general panicked when he saw your eyes welling up with tears, releasing your hand to grasp your shoulders, "D-do you not like it? We can arrange a different one for you if you want—"

Shaking your head, you sniffled, "N-no, it's not that. I j-just can't believe this is really all mine. Th-thank you so much, Seonghwa..."

He breathed out in relief, pulling you into his arms as you cried into his neck, "What did I say, you silly girl? Only the best for you." He gazed around in satisfaction; he had intentionally requested his maids to arrange the room closest to his private quarters, wanting to be near you.

Aside from that, the abundance of lotus flowers in this specific area earned it the nickname House of Lotus. Known for its connection with purity, rebirth, and divinity, the lotus flower symbolises rising from a dark place into beauty and rebirth, mirroring its growth process. This was precisely what the general had envisioned for you—a metaphorical representation of new beginnings and a fresh start.

"Master, we have come to prepare mistress for bed. Do we have permission to proceed?"

"Of course, I'll leave you to it then." Your husband had no choice but to leave you as the group of servants assigned to you for the night arrived, hands carrying bath supplies, Yunho's prepared ointment for your wounds, and a fresh piece of nightgown.

"Have a good rest tonight, my dear. We're paying the dressmaker a visit tomorrow; we're getting you new clothes." He pressed a firm kiss onto your head and did not leave until he was sure you had entered the room, reluctantly heading towards his study to wait for updates from Jongho.

Reaching for the Jang family records he had hidden from you earlier, he got back to work. With the week off granted by the King for him to celebrate his wedding, Seonghwa was determined to gather as much intel as he could before setting his plans into motion, "Just you wait, minister. Savour the peace while you still can."

Just when the general believed he had prepared himself to learn the extent of the abuse you had endured throughout your life, he managed to keep his rage in check as he listened to the harrowing details. However, nothing could have prepared him for the new revelation that his aide brought to him.

His disgust for the Minister of Military Affairs, already intense, reached new heights with the secret he had just uncovered. The assistant bowed his head as his master broke into a grin of disbelief, "And here, I thought I was labelled the heartless monster. Clearly, the minister is the rightful owner of the title."

Pointing towards the copy of your family records on his desk, Seonghwa inquired, "What about this? Have you been able to confirm the suspicions I have about those three she-devils?"

Jongho shook his head, "Not yet, sir. We'll need evidence to prove your theory; we might have to dig deeper. Just getting someone to talk about it might not be sufficient for your plan to succeed."

The general nodded, "It's alright, Jongho. We still have some time. So long as we have that piece of evidence before I return to work next week, is that doable?"

After a brief moment of contemplation, his aide replied, "Yes, I think that should be enough time. If that is all for now, I'll be taking my leave, sir."

"Thank you, Jongho. You may go."

Left alone with his thoughts, your husband resisted the urge to run to you immediately. He felt so angry for you that he could almost cry. The depth of your suffering was unimaginable to him, and all he wanted was to embrace you, shield you from the harsh and cruel world, and erase the pain and traumatic memories.

Clutching the book with your family crest, he glared at your father's name, imagining all the ways he could take the old man out.

I promise you, my dear. I'll make them pay.

At the same time, he couldn't stop beating himself up for the way he had treated you on your first day here. His heart ached as he recalled you travelling this far all on your own, only to face continuous mistreatment from him. Even if you had already forgiven him—you weren't even angry at him in the first place, you had to be crazy for that—Seonghwa would never forgive himself for his actions. He would be spending the rest of his days trying to make up for it.

That night, he experienced another restless bout of sleep, tossing and turning as the endless imagined scenes of you being tortured, starved, and treated like cattle haunted his mind. At some point during the night, he couldn't resist the impulse and walked over to your quarters, standing by the entrance like a fool, contemplating whether he should knock.

But he quickly realised that you must not have had any decent rest for who knows how long, and here he was, on the verge of disturbing you just because he couldn't sleep. Gosh, how selfish could he be?

He trudged back to his own room, trying to focus on the thought of you being soundly asleep in your new and comfy bed. Thankfully, this image managed to bring a smile to his face, and just like that, he gradually joined you in dreamland.

"Good morning, mistress! We're here to help you get ready. May we please enter?" Your eyes fluttered open as Eunsook's voice reached you, and a yawn escaped your mouth after having what felt like the most amazing sleep for the first time in years.

You were tempted to hop off your bed and rush to open the door for them, but then you remembered you weren't supposed to do so. Clearing your throat, you answered politely, "Yes, you may enter."

The servants bowed, unable to hide their smiles upon seeing you sitting up on your bed, still marvelling at the grand interior of your new room despite having already spent one night there.

Unbeknownst to you, the maids had been competing to be chosen to serve you. In just your third day here, you had become the most precious figure in the entire estate, and everyone wished to work under you. This particular group of maids had been selected, and their excitement was palpable as they enthusiastically bathed, dressed, and fixed your hair and makeup for the day.

On the other hand, the less fortunate few found themselves assigned to prepare the general for the day. Especially now, with Jongho, the only one capable of handling Seonghwa, engaged in special duties elsewhere, they had no choice but to put up with their master, even as their hearts yearned to be in the House of Lotus.

The morning unfolded with remarkable ease, thanks to your presence. Your husband proved more manageable than usual, his typical grogginess dissipating as he witnessed your excitement over breakfast. It made him both happy and sad—happy to see you so easily satisfied but sad at the realisation of the deprivation you had endured. Your genuine appreciation for even the most basic necessities was a testament to your difficult past.

Repeatedly, he had to remind himself that your history was just that—history. There was nothing he could do to alter it. But he was your present and future, and he would do everything to ensure you had nothing but the best moving forward.

Having already provided you with the best quarters on his estate, the next step was to adorn you in the finest clothes in all of Joseon. Whether or not you arrived with clothing from your old home was irrelevant to him; he would have burned every piece of it to the ground regardless. His goal now was to ensure that, at first sight, everyone would recognise you as the esteemed and beloved wife of the terrifying General Park.

Waiting for you by his carriage, he was not disappointed by your reaction to the vehicle as he assisted you inside. Your eyes widened, and your jaw fell in astonishment as you took in the spacious interior. Usually, he kept the carriage's small windows closed, but anticipating your excitement, he left them open. A subtle smile played on his lips as you gazed in awe at the passing scenery.

Cute.

The dressmaker's shop was situated in the middle of a lively street in town, requiring the two of you to cover the remaining distance on foot while the carriage and its coachmen awaited your return. Accompanied by two servants trailing closely behind, the four of you began making your way through the bustling crowd.

While Seonghwa found himself irritated by the unending stares drawn by both of your extraordinary visuals, your attention was captivated by the surroundings.

This marked your first visit to the town, evident from your childlike fascination, a source of amusement for the observing servants who shared delighted giggles. Throughout the journey, your husband ensured a tight grip on your hand, apprehensive about the possibility of losing you in the busy crowd.

The commoners, oblivious to your identities, continued their activities nonchalantly. Little did they know they were looking at the famous General Park and his new wife. If your true status were known, the street might have cleared within seconds.

Growing weary of the continuous gazes, the general promptly guided you towards the shop he intended to visit.

Upon entering, you were captivated by the array of colourful and elegant hanbok on display. The servants remained close by, engaging in lively discussions about their preferred designs. Typically, Seonghwa would disapprove of his employees being so casual around him, but witnessing the joy on your face as you excitedly joined in on their conversation, he couldn't bring himself to reprimand the two maids. Sighing, he moved further into the establishment, searching for the owner.

Spotting the familiar back hunched over work at the rear of the salon, he couldn't help but roll his eyes before saying, "I still don't understand why you won't hire a helper. You could be robbed in broad daylight, for all we know. You weren't even aware you have a customer, being busy back here."

Turning around with a raised brow, the dressmaker countered, "You're wrong, Park Seonghwa. I didn't bother heading out because I knew it was you. That's how good I am, and that's why I don't need to spend unnecessarily on a helper."

Before the general stood an old friend from his early military days, one who had decided the life of a soldier was not his path and had pursued his passion in fashion, "Yes, yes. It's nice to see you too, Kim Hongjoong. Good to know you haven't changed much."

The shorter man grinned deviously at his friend's sarcastic response, glancing at you, "Aye, I haven't. Unlike you, General Park."

Hongjoong set his tools down and continued, "Heard you finally got married, and I didn't believe it, not until today. That lovely woman over there, that's her, isn't it? She must be quite the special one for you to accompany her all this way. This isn't like you at all. The Seonghwa I know would never waste his time coming here."

If there was one thing your husband did not miss about his friend, it was his relentless teasing. He rolled his eyes again when it went on, "You know, I really thought I'd never get to see you again, but here you are, all because of her."

Seonghwa crossed his arms over his chest, "One more word from you, Hongjoong, and you can kiss this business deal goodbye. Don't come crying to me when I end up employing another dressmaker for all of my wife's clothing."

Jaws falling slack, Hongjoong exclaimed, "Hold on, did I hear that right? All of your wife's clothing?"

The general smirked, "Yes, you heard correctly. I'm hiring you for the long term, enough for you to shut down your shop and work exclusively for my estate."

Hongjoong chuckled, "Closing my shop might be a stretch, but a steady income is tempting. I'm on board. You have good taste, Seonghwa. I assure you won't regret hiring me. I'll make Lady Park the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon, mark my words."

"Excellent. I'm counting on it, Hongjoong."

As pleased as your husband was to have secured a reliable dressmaker for you, there are moments when he regrets such decisions. He experiences a sense of déjà vu as he observes you interacting with his friend, recalling the uneasy feeling he had witnessing your reaction to Yunho.

"My lady, it seems my task is already defined. Your beauty is already exceptional, and I'm afraid I won't have to work too hard to enhance it at all." Hongjoong has always been quite the charmer, and Seonghwa disliked that he was using it on you, his wife, of all people.

The blush on your face, as adorable as it was, irked the general at the moment, as he wasn't the reason for it. He watched, unamused, as the dressmaker smugly took your measurements.

Contrary to your calm and oblivious demeanour, the two maids were keenly aware of their master's internal fury, manifested in the glares he shot at his friend. They trembled at the thought of his wrath, unaware that Hongjoong was the only one audacious enough to tease the general without fearing severe consequences. The two had always shared what people termed a love-hate relationship.

Other than you, your husband and the servants felt a sense of relief once the dressmaker completed noting your measurements, checking your design preferences, and determining which colours suited your skin tone best.

"Alright, it looks like we're done for now. I'll do my best to deliver the first batch of dresses to your estate by next week. Is that okay?" Seonghwa softened as soon as he recognised his friend's serious and professional side, nodding quickly, "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Hongjoong."

The shorter man gave him a sincere smile, "No, thank you, Seonghwa. I mean it in a good way when I say you've changed. Your wife is lovely, by the way. I'll be seeing you soon, my friend."

As the four of you made your way out of the shop, the general's irritation resurfaced as quickly as it had dissipated just moments ago when Hongjoong sent you a flirty wink, "Have a safe journey back. I can't wait to see you again, Lady Park."

Cutting short your innocent wave, Seonghwa swiftly wrapped a strong arm around your back and guided you away, not missing his friend's annoying laughter, "Let's go; the carriage is waiting." He grumbled, jealousy and petty anger flooding his veins.

But those emotions vanished as soon as you both got into the vehicle, the rhythmic rocking motion lulling you into drowsiness. In your sleepy state, your head landed on his shoulder, and you whispered, "Thank you, Seonghwa. I had fun today."

He pulled you closer, ensuring your comfort, and pressed his lips against your hair.

"Anything for you, my wife."

« Preview of Part 7 »

"Can you all believe this? Just a few days into marriage, and the general has already sent word to His Majesty that he has an important agenda to discuss in our next assembly?" The minister guffawed, downing a glass of rice wine in amusement.

His wife grinned slyly, "Do you reckon it has anything to do with her?"

"Oh, I bet it has everything to do with her!" Jinah chortled.

"He must have been so disgusted by the sight of her bare from all that makeup," Jinhee shook her head before panicking, "Wait a damn minute, what if he asks to swap her for one of us?"

Jinjoo whined, "Father, you better not agree to that if it happens!"

"You silly girls, your father would never let any of that happen. Right, honey?" Their mother drawled, curling up to her husband seductively. The mere thought of your potential misery brought them satisfaction.

Minister Jang nodded, "Don't worry, girls. Knowing Park Seonghwa, he most likely would not entertain the idea or ask for anything like that. We'll just have to wait and see what he wishes to talk about. This should be interesting."

"That better be the case." Jinhee muttered, arms crossed.

Jinah smirked, "Or who knows, he's already disposed of her and decided the only right thing to do is to report it."

Cruel laughter echoed through the dining hall of the Jang estate as your family speculated on the possible whereabouts of your remains. None of them noticed the mole within their staff, attentively listening to every word.

I know you're all probably dying to know Minister Jang's secret but what fun will it be for y'all to find out so soon, am I right?😝 Not to worry though, I promise it'll all be revealed in due time.

Thank you so much for 900+ followers! As always, hope you enjoyed and let me know all your thoughts! <3

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Tag list (2/2): see comment/reply section

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Kooks and Pogues don't really get along, but reader and Rafe make it work.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, fluff - Rafe is super clingy with you, secret relationship, flirting, secret texting, pogue!reader with possibly divorcing parents, kissing, lying to friends, sneaking off at a party, phone sex, masterbation, choking, biting, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected sex, filth 

Word count: 4.9k | unedited 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You lay on your bed, smiling and giggling as you text back and forth with your very secret kook boyfriend, Rafe. 

Yeah, yeah. Kooks and Pogues, they don't get along, blah blah. 

But you and Rafe do.

Cannot wait to see you tonight, my beautiful girl. Did you pick out a dress for the party yet? 

You bite down on your bottom lip, typing back a response to Rafe, Wouldn't you like to know, lover boy. 

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and look up just as Kie walks in the door, "So tell me how we managed to get an invite to Sarah's party." 

You sigh, "Okay. But you have to promise you won't get upset or tell anyone I told you." 

She nods, "Ohh I like where this is going." She sits down on your bed, "Tell me." 

"John B and Sarah are secretly seeing each other." You stare at her and she laughs, "What?" 

You nod, "The only reason I know that is because I went over to hang out with John B and.. they must have lost track of time." 

"Oh Jesus." Kie shakes her head, "I actually don't like where this is going." 

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, I was actually shocked when I seen them, but honestly, after talking to them before she left." You shrug, "They seem to be really happy sigh each other." 

Kie rolls her eyes, "Oh yeah. I'm sure." 

You chew on your lip as your phone is one new message away from the secret you're hiding, too. 

"Just.. let him tell you. Don't tell him I told you." You laugh, "As crazy at it seems, it seems to work." 

"John B and Sarah Cameron?" She raises her brows, "That's just.. crazy to me. That would be like rafe and you." 

Your heart skips a beat and you quickly push out a laugh, "Please." You roll your eyes, "Me and Rafe? That would never work, even if I wanted it to." 

Kie looks at you and at this point, your heart is about to fall out of your ass. 

She tilts her head, "I mean, I can say that Sarah is better than Rafe, I mean." She laughs slightly, "he's a psychopath." You force a laugh because you know that isn't true, for you at least. 

Rafe is, literally on his hands and knees begging to see you. 

He's good morning texts and last person you talk to before you go to sleep. 

He's nothing like the Rafe they know. 

Polar opposite. 

"so I guess.. I'm just glad it's them two over the other option." Kie says and you look at her, "Oh yeah." You try not to seem nervous, "I'm happy for them, really." 

She checks her phone, "Shit. I gotta go meet JayJ." She stands up, "I'll pick you up later? We can go to the party together." 

You nod, "Okay." You watch as she leaves your room and you pull your phone out after hearing the front screen door shut. 

A smirk grows across your lips as you read, Please. I miss my girl so much right now. 

You get up, walking over to your closet as you type, Things been stressful lately? 

You always loved how fast Rafe answers you. 

No matter what he's doing, he makes sure to always answer. 

You have no idea, baby. I haven't seen you, I need to feel you. Fuck, I miss you. 

You have never seen a more softer side of Rafe. You honestly never really would, but to your surprise, you were the one who brought it out of him. 

You are the only Pogue he'd ever really associate with in any other way. You have a way with him that even had himself questioning the whole thing for a while, but he got into you having control over him, too.

He still, now jokingly, is mean to you when you're around your other friends, only because he's mean to them, but you give it right back to him. 

And he loves it, but pretends that he doesn't. 

You pull your dress out of the closet and set it down to undress. You slip it on, giving yourself a look in the mirror, fixing it to make sure it shows your cleavage. 

You snap a picture, typing a text before hitting send, Maybe you'll have to get me alone tonight so you can lift the back of this up, yeah? 

You smirk at your screen, waiting for his text to pop up. You giggle as you read it, Was already on my mind, Princess. 

You sit down on your bed and look at the time. You had to be ready in two hours. You bite your lip, shrugging as you start to type, Are you able to call me? 

A few minutes later, your phone rings and you bring it to your ear as you answer, "Hey babe." 

"What's goin' on Princess." Rafe asks with a laugh and you sigh, "Since you said you need me, too, I can't stop thinking about you." 

"Ohh." Rafe sighs, "I see. I see. You want me to talk you through it, hmm?" You nod to yourself, "I do." 

"Mm. Well you're lucky I got some free time." 

You can hear Rafe getting up to shut his door and you smirk, dragging your dress up your thighs with your fingers. 

"What are you doing right now?" Rafe asks, "Besides thinking about me." 

You laugh slightly and smile, "I'm just pulling my dress up my legs." 

"The one that I'm going to be pulling up later myself, huh?" Rafe asks and you sigh as you press your fingers onto your clothed clit, "Uh huh." 

"Mm. That dress makes your boobs look incredible." You can hear the smirk in Rafe's voice and you giggle, "Thank you, baby." 

"Are you rubbing that clit f'me, baby?" Rafe asks and you breathe out, "Yes." You slip your fingers into your panties and go back to rubbing. 

"can't wait to fuckin' have you tonight." He groans, "You're going to look so good." 

You slide your fingers down and dip them into your soaked cunt, "I'm so wet." You whisper out, a small moan escaping your lips. 

"Fuck baby, you sound so sexy." Rafe groans quietly, "Goddamn." 

You arch your back against your bed and squeeze your eyes shut, "I miss you." 

"I miss you, too, baby." Rafe whispers, "Tell me what you're doing." He pauses, knowing you're still kind of shy to dirty talking, "You fingering that pussy?" 

"Y-yes." You whimper out, looking down at your fingers slipping in and out of you, "Need you." 

"You'll get me baby, I promise." There's a softer tone to his voice. Him being so vulnerable with you turns you on even more, "Fuck, I can't wait to feel it."

You grind your hips even more and gasp out, "R-Rafe." You whimper out, "S-so close." 

"Come on baby." He sighs, "Just think about how good I'm going to feel inside of that tight little pussy tonight." 

You moan in response and he chuckles, "There ya go, baby. Just think of me. No one fucks you like I do, yeah?" 

"Fuck." You gasp out, knowing that he's right. 

"Go on baby, say it." Rafe encourages and you pause as you think you hear the front screen door open and slam shut. 

You gasp, whispering quickly, "Gotta go." 

"Love you." Rafe says quickly and you smile, voice still low, "Love you." 

You pull your dress down and stand up, locking your phone before walking towards the door, "Hello?" 

"Oh it's just me, honey." Your mom yells and you sigh, "Thank god." You whisper, you lean out yelling back, "Okay." 

You walk back into your room and sit back down on the bed, texting Rafe, Sorry. I heard someone come in. Wasn't sure who it was, but it was just my mom. 

You sit up, moving over to start getting around for Sarah's party. 

As you're doing your makeup, your phone goes off and you lean over to grab it. You smile as you see Rafe's name, Its all good, princess. Sarah came in asking me to move stuff right after we hung up. 

You let out a sigh, Perfect timing then right? 

You set your phone down and continue to get ready. 

As you finishes getting around, you get a text from Kie, On my way. I'll let you know when I'm there. 

You nod to yourself, I'm ready to go.

You stand up and walk over to grab your shoes. Once they're on, you make your way outside to wait. 

As Kie pulls up, the boys lean out of the windows and yell at you. You laugh as you walk up to the passenger side of the car. Jj climbs into the back, giving you the seat. 

"Aww." You say getting in and looking back at JJ, "How sweet of you." 

He shrugs, "Ehh. Don't mention it." 

You laugh and look at Kie, "Ready?" She asks giving you a thumbs up. You give her a thumbs up, "Hell yeah!" 

You arrive to the party, parking next to the other cars. You get out, walking around and you look at the others as they gather, "So, what's the plan for if we get asked on why we're here?" 

Your eyes move to John B and he shrugs. You nod, "Well just say that Sarah invited  Kie and I and she said we can bring the others?" 

They all look at each other and then back to you, "Sounds good to me." John B says and you all follow him towards the house. 

You walk in, looking around for Rafe. You don't see him anywhere as you follow Kie. You make your way to the back and outside. 

You managed to get drinks and you're finally able to get a sip. 

"This place is packed." You say as you look around, a smirk instantly taking place on your lips as your eyes land on Rafe. 

His eyes were glued to you, picturing what's under neath that dress. 

"It's not bad out side." Kie says looking around and the boys walk up to you, chatting amongst themselves. 

Kie scoffs, "Ugh. Rafe alert." 

"And just how in the hell did the Pogue princess and her dwarves get an invite to my sister's party?" Rafe asks as he walks around to face the group. 

His yellow shirt fitting tight again his body and the backwards head has you unable to fathom any thought that isn't dirty right now. 

"Sarah invited Y/n and I." Kie speaks up and you blink, "Yeah, Rafe." You roll your eyes, "We're not awful people." 

"My sister is in fact losing it." Rafe shakes his head, "Just don't get the fuckin' cops called, alright." His eyes move over you once more as he turns and he walks away. 

You vowed with the group to never fall for a pogue, just like Rafe did with his other kook head friends. 

But literally just one look and you were weak in the knees for him.

"Just don't get the cops involved alright." JJ mocks Rafe as he walks away, "Fuck off, man." 

"Hey guys." Sarah says walking up to you, "I'm glad you're all here." You nod and look at John B and look back to Sarah, "Yeah thank you so much for inviting us." 

She nods, "Anytime." She looks at John B and you knew that look. They were planning on sneaking off somewhere.

You smirk and lean up against the railing, "So is everyone invited or what?" Pope asks Sara with a laugh. 

She rolls her eyes, "As soon as Rafe found out I was having a party, he was also having a party, so now we're sharing the space." 

"What an asshole." John B rolls his eyes and you look behind Sarah, eyes locking onto Rafe. You tried so hard not to smile, you had to bring your cup to your mouth and look away. 

You feel your phone vibrate and you know that's a queue to excuse yourself, "I'm going to go find the bathroom." 

"I'll come with you." Kie says walking towards you. 

You walk to the bathroom and you motion, "You can go first." She nods and goes in. You pull your phone from your small purse and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, Baby girl. You look so fucking good. 

You tap back, glancing up at the door every now and then, Me? Let's talk about you in that shirt and backwards hat. You know that does it for me. 

You lock your phone, hearing Kie rustle around in the bathroom. The door opens and you switch places with her. 

You look down and lean against the wall as you read Rafe's texts, I know what it does to you babe. Partly why I wore it. 

You roll your eyes and shake your head, Can't wait to get my hands on you. You toss your phone back into your bag and fix your hair before walking out. 

You make your way down to get another drink and out to the backyard to find the others. 

You look around, sipping from your cup and you can't help but smirk as you walk right by Rafe. His eyes trail on you the entire time you move past him. 

You guys like fun little cat fights you do to keep things lowkey. 

"Hey, wait a sec.." Rafe calls out and you stop, slowly turning around, "Are you talking to me?" You point to yourself and Rafe nods, "Yeah, Miss Pogue princess." 

He steps towards you, "I'm talking to you." 

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling. You knew he hates pretending to be mean, but it was still fun for you. 

If you're gonna ask why in here, ask your sister, Rafe. I already told you." You roll your eyes and he shakes his head, "Nah, nah. Nothing like that. Listen." He walks up to you and he leans in, voice really low, "Look, I'll try to hide it better, but we both know that I'm madly in love with you." 

He leans back and smirks and you purse your lips, taking a step back as you flick him off and smile before turning away. 

You make your way back to the others and you look around, "Where's John B?" 

"Said he was going to get another drink." Pope shrugs, "But that was like almost ten minutes ago." 

Kie looks at you and you tilt your head, nodding slightly. You basically confirmed you were thinking the same thing. 

"What was that?" Pope motions between you and Kie, "That girl thing you just did?" 

"You're losin' it Pope." You laugh and shake your head, "Oh here they come." You motion to JJ and John B, "Pope was worried." 

They laugh and sit down next to him on the chairs. You look down at your empty cup, "I'm gonna go get a refill." 

As you walk away, you pull your phone out of your bag and block the sides with your hands, I'm thinking about you right now. 

You smirk, glancing up as you make your way into the house, I don't blame you. 

You tuck your phone back into your bag and walk over to the drink table. You pour a drink and take a minute to stand where there really isn't anyone around. 

Rate responds, Do you think you can make it to my room without anyone seeing you? 

Your heart skips with excitement, I'll make it happen. 

You put your phone into your purse and set your cup down. You carefully make your way towards the steps and said a few seconds before you head up. 

You've snuck info Rafe's house just about as many times as you have snuck into his, so you knew exactly where his room is. 

You look behind you as you grow closer to his room. You stop and open the door, biting your lip when he turns around to see you. 

You walk in, shutting the door with your back to it. He walks over to you, "How's my girl doin'? Hmm." His hands slide up your hands and neck to cup your cheeks, "My fuckin' beautiful girl." 

You smile and purse out your lips. He presses his to yours, smooching them a few times, "I missed you." He pulls you in and wraps his arms around you.

You wrap your arms around him and let out a sigh, "I'm glad we can manage to sneak away like pros." You laugh and Rafe nods, he looks down at you, "Did you get off earlier?" 

You shake your head, "Nope." 

He smiles, "I can help you with that." He winks and slides his hand down to yours, grabbing it and leading you over to his bed. 

His eyes scan down over the dress that's hugging your body and he shakes his head, "I wanna rip this thing off of you." 

"Later?" You bite your lip and he tilts his head, "Twice in one night, huh?" You bite your lip and nod, "Lucky you." 

You lay back and smile up at him and he pulls the fabric up over your thighs, "Show me what you were doing earlier, princess." 

You comply, even though you want him to be the one touching you. 

You spread your legs and pull your panties to the side, your fingers finding their way onto your clit like before. 

Rafe's eyes are glued to your fingers drawing circles on yourself, whimpering and moaning as you press harder. 

Rafe inserts a finger into your cunt, slowly curling it and your eyes roll back as you moan, "Rafe." 

"This what you wanted?" Rafe sits down next to you, dinner slowly sliding in and out of you, "Hmm? You want me to make you cum?" 

You nod quickly, "Fuck yes yes yes." 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours and he sallows your moans, "as much as I wanna hear them pretty little sounds, you gotta be quiet, okay?" 

You nod, biting down on your lip as he inserts another finger. You gasp, looking down at his hand between your thighs, "Fuck." 

You clench around his fingers, grinding your hips down as you rub back and forth on your clit, "Fuck fuck fuck." 

You whimper quietly, bucking your hips as Rafe guides you through your high, "Good job, princess." He presses a kiss to your forehead and stands up, "Now roll over so I can push this dress up." 

You smirk and roll over into your elbows and knees.

You lean over slightly and look back at him. You watch as he undoes his belt to his pants. You wiggle your hips and he smirks, shaking his head, "You know.." Rafe starts out. 

You tilt your head, "What do I know?" 

He smirks, "You're pretty fucking sexy for a Pogue." 

You can feel your cheeks turning red and you nod, "You're pretty fucking sexy for a kook." You smirk and he walks up, sliding his hands up under the fabric of your dress. 

"You're not good for me." Rafe squeezes your hips and you push them back towards him. He presses his hips against you, his hard cock pressing into you, "But baby I cannot fucking help but want you." 

Your lips part as he pushes your dress up over your ass, exposing it to him. He gives both of your cheeks a squeezes before delivering a smack to each one. 

You win, biting down on your lip. You look back at him and he leans up over you, "You got that best pussy ever." 

You smile and gasp as you feel your underwear get slowly pulled down. His fingers brush against your soaked cunt and he bites down on his lip, "you're fuckin' dripping for me princess." 

You take an excited breath, "Like I said, I've been needing you." 

"I'm not gonna make you wait any longer, baby. Okay?" Rafe pushes his hands down and rubs his hands over your ass cheeks. 

You rest your head against the bed when you feel the head of his cock press against your cunt. A moan is ripped from your lips as he pushes into you. 

"Ahh, baby.." he groans out quietly, "Don't wanna get caught now do ya?" 

"N-no." You whimper out, pushing your hips back to meet each of his thrusts. "fuck fuck fuck." You reach back and Rafe grabs your wrist, pinning it to your lower back. 

"So fucking right." Rafe pants out, continuing to slam his cock into you. 

"Fu-Fuck.." you whine, squeezing his cock, "Rafe, baby. Shit. Shit." You moan and squeeze his cock one last time before you let go. 

Your hand goes to your mouth as you try to muffle the moans you have no control over. 

Rafe pushes your dress up, moving it out of the way before he pulls out, spilling his cum onto your back, "Goddamn." 

You sigh, "Uh huh." 

"Alright, baby. Don't move for me, okay?" Rafe says and you nod, watching as he goes and gets you something to wipe you off with.

He comes back and gets behind you again, "So I was thinking." 

"Uh oh." You tease, "What were you thinkin' about?" 

He stands up to get dressed and you roll over onto your side to look at him.

Rafe looks down at you, "Run away with me."

You blink a few times and shake your head, "What did you just say?" 

Rafe laughs, reaching down to caress your cheek, "You heard me." You tilt your head into is hand, actually considering that it would be nice to spend at least one day together without getting any interruptions. 

"No." You shake your head, "We can't do that." 

Rafe shrugs, "Why not?" 

You stare at him as you try and come up with an answer, but you can't think of anything, "Fuck." 

Rafe walks up to you, "See." He chuckles, "Just imagine one week, some place where it's just you and I." 

You chew on your lip, thinking for a second, "Rafe, I gotta tell you something." You lay your hands on his chest, "I can't leave." 

He presses a kiss to your lips and Whines, "You won't regret this." 

You smile slightly but quickly frown, "I need to be here for my mom. They're talking divorce and I just need to be here incase he just decides to leave." 

"Oh baby." Rafe grabs your head and presses his lips to your forehead, "I'm sorry." You let out a sigh, "It's okay. You didn't do anything." 

"No I know, but if I had known, I wouldn't have been there more for you." He runs his hands through your hair and sighs, "Are you.. I mean not alright but.." 

You nod, smiling slightly, "Just you nonstop talking to me helps." 

"I can come over later and you can just talk? Yeah?" He looks at you and you nod, trying not to cry, "Please?" Your voice is low and it makes him frown, "Of course, baby. anything you need." 

He presses a kiss to your lips and you smile, "Then maybe once everything is settled we do that little thing you were talking about." You wink and he just smirks as he watches as you walk over to the door. 

As you open it to go out, you ear JJ and Pope coming up the steps. You step back in and push the door shut, "Shit." 

You look at Rafe and he gives you a confused look, "What's going on?" 

"Pope and JJ, I think they're looking for me." You cover your mouth to conceal your laughter and Rafe puts his shirt back on, "Closet." 

You look from Rafe to the open closet and sigh, "Okay." You walk over and step in, leaning forward to close the door. 

You listen and hear knocking on Rafe's door. He walks over and opens it, "Man you guys are actually searching to get your asses kicked tonight, aren't ya?" 

You smirk slightly and you hear JJ ask, "Where's y/n?" 

"Why the fuck would I know where y/n is?" Rafe shoots back and JJ, being JJ, "Because if she were to go missing you're��the first person I'd look into." 

"Well, she's not up here. So good luck with that case, Detective Douchebag." Rafe says and you cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. 

Detective Douchebag. Good one. 

"She's probably just outside somewhere." Pope says urging JJ to leave. 

"Yeah, outside. Where you should be instead of bothering me." Rafe says, "Oh. And when you find her, tell I said she looks hot for a Pogue." 

"What the fuck did you just say?" JJ says and you can hear Pope calming him down, "Relax. He's just doing it on purpose. Come on." 

Rafe closes the door and you emerge from the closet, "Did you really have to add the last part?" 

He laughs, "I mean.. you are hot." He winks, and you know I have to fuck with them. I hate them, not you." 

You roll your eyes and walk over to him, "I don't hate you either." You lean up and press your lips to his, "See ya later?" 

His hands move to your waist and he tilts his head, "Um, that's a dumb ass question." 

You laugh, "I was just double checking." 

"I know." He smirks and kisses your cheek, "Let me check is the coast is clear." He peaks his head out and waves for you to come out. 

You peck his lips and smile, "I love you." 

He smiles, pinching your chin gently, "I love you." 

You quickly make your way down the steps and half way down you realize you don't have your panties on. 

You ignore it and make your way back to the drink table to get a new one. You pull your phone out, quickly texting Rafe, Do you happen to know where my panties are? 

You put your phone back in your purse and you make your way through the crowded house to find your friends, "Hey." 

"Where have you been?" Kie asks and you motion, "Oh I got sidetracked by-" you stop talking when you see Rafe walk out and you sigh, "I'm actually not feeling well. I think I'm going to walk home." 

"I can drive you?" She steps towards you and you shake your head, "No it's fine." 

"Are you sure? What's going on?" She leans in, "Are you okay?" 

You nod, "Yeah, yeah. I just have a lot going on right now." You swore you'd never use it at an excuse, but you really didn't want them mad at you for seeing Rafe, "My mom and dad got into it again today about divorcing and just tensions are high.." 

she nods, "Yeah, no. I completely understand." She lays a hand on your shoulder, "Call me if you need anything." 

You nod, "I will. Thank you." 

She smiles and your turn, walking down off the deck. You can hear Kie start to explain what you told her but their voices fade the further away you get. 

You get your phone out of your bag and smile when you see Rafe's text, Yeah, I do actually. 

You type the screen, Can I know where they are please?, resting your phone down as you continue to walk. your phone buzzes in your hand and you bring it up. 

My left pants pocket. 

A tingle courses through your body and you tilt your head, Not gonna lie. That's hot as fuck. 

You bite your lip as you look back towards the house. You look down at your phone, I'm actually walking home right now, so if you wanna meet me there? 

You hit send and keep walking. 

It hits you that since he knows about your parents along with your friends, they'll all try to come at once time and you really don't want to see that. 

you stop, going to text Rafe but a car pulls up beside you, coming to a stop. You look over and see Rafe as the window goes down. 

You quickly get in and look at him, "What are you doing?" 

He shrugs, "I don't need you walking home looking like that." He nods toward your body and you smirk, "So sweet of you." 

You sigh, "Actually. I can't go home." 

He starts to drive and gives you a confused look, "Why?" You laugh slightly, "Because my dumb ass told Kie that was my leaving for leaving, so they're probably going or, if not already on their way to my house now."

"And you don't want them knowing about us, hmm?" He lays a hand on your thigh, "I get it, baby." He glances at you, "Where do you want to go?" 

You laugh, "Anywhere that I can come up an excuse for tomorrow." 

Rafe gives your thigh a squeeze, "I know just the place." He bites his bottom lip and looks at you and you nod, "Let's go." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Hi thanks you so much for reading! I love you all! As always let me know how you liked this one!

Again, I wrote this high so if nothing makes sense I’m sorry lol

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated! 🖤

[afsosville]

You know what would've been nice? Shen Jiu ending up on a different peak that's actually good for him. Maybe Qian Cao, or the beast taming peak could've been hella therapeutic. Or the alcohol/brewery peak to drown away all his sorrows. But what if he stayed fucked up, in a way that's actually good and productive for society? Yeah, I wanna toss him over to Yin Hui and let him run wild! I've seen many iterations of Yin Hui, the fanon peak for espionage and poisons in fanfics. By extension, Yin Hui is also covertly the assassination peak, and I wish this peak got more attention around here tbh. Why do I think this peak is the most well suited for Shen Jiu? BECAUSE ASSASSINS. Duh.

So here comes a baby demonic cultivator Shen Jiu and the Yin Hui peak lord immediately wants him. Shen Jiu would be more readily accepted by his peak martial siblings, and no one would bat an eye at Shen Jiu, his standoffish personality or shady past. A lot of Yin Hui disciples are from questionable backgrounds since the Yin Hui peak lord naturally has to be very particular about selecting their disciples. Yin Hui was established to protect the sect and its people by any means necessary. Sure, the rest of the sect may fight against the supernatural, demons, and the undead, but Yin Hui fights an even greater monster: people.

The Yin Hui peak lord manipulated things so that the first impression the rest of the sect has about Shen Jiu is 'that new badass Yin Hui disciple that killed the criminal Wu Yanzi and saved the future sect leader!' (Seeing as Wu Yanzi would be the very sort of ppl they assassinate, he's already getting goated on Yin Hui too.) So Shen Jiu is known as that new prodigious disciple from Yin Hui and is getting some goddamn respect! And just because of his association with his peak, fewer people are inclined to question his background and whatnot since there's an understanding that the identity of the YH disciples needs to be heavily guarded. The Yin Hui peak lord finds out about the Qiu's soon enough, and they erase any and all traces leading back to Shen Jiu. Even framing it in a way that makes it look like WY did the massacre. Any credibility Qiu Haitang could've had for Shen Jiu's murder accusations is thrown out the window. (Ain’t no way in hell the Yin Hui peak lord is going to name SJ that stupid trauma inducing name like a certain Qing Jing peak lord, that's for sure.)

I'm pulling in elements from MDZS over here. In my version of Yin Hui, they have disciples who practice demonic cultivation, but they make sure it's in a safer way that won't hurt them. There's a surprising number of disciples who have damaged cultivation and chose to cultivate the ghost path. The previous generations of Yin Hui peak lords have created Wei Wuxian's inventions in this AU, and is used by the rest of the peak, like the compass of ill winds, paper metamorphosis, the spirit attraction flag, and empathy. I lowkey want a Wei Wuxian that's native to SV to be the Yin Hui peak lord, now that I think about it. He's good with his kiddos and would be an awesome shizun. And ofc, Shen Jiu is a reflection of his environment, so he's certainly making an example out of Wei Wuxian, one of the only positive influences in his life.

Shen Jiu still has his violent tendencies, so nothing has changed about that, but he learns to take that pent-up energy out on missions instead. And he does them well. It even gives him an edge. Everyone else thinks he's just reallyyy good at his job, as expected of the talented head disciple of Yin Hui!!

He really does try his best to not be an ass (bc he gets the love he deserves on Yin Hui) and ends up venting in a different way (coz he knows better than to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.) His shizun really gave him the free reign to kill sl@ve trad3rs, human tr@ffick3rs, r-ists, and other scum whenever he wanted, in the name of stress relief lol. If killing a particular person becomes politically complicated, like the Old Palace Bastard, then you best believe he's going to scheme like the little schemer he is. He's going to Nie Huaisang the OPM.

Since Shen Jiu is not salty about his fucked up cultivation, and his martial siblings respect him, they get along just fine. His cultivation is some parts similar to Wei Wuxian's: Shen Jiu is a ghost cultivator influenced by music. Sure, he may not be that great of a spiritual cultivator, so what? He's pulling up like the Yiling Patriarch with his demonic cultivation and a haunted guqin of his own.

And guess what? Shen Jiu enjoys teaching. He's training miniature assassins, spies, and the art of demonic cultivation, so forgive him if he's more than a little enthusiastic about it. I imagine that he's exactly like Shifu from kung fu panda when it comes to teaching. Still extremely harsh and strict when training, but outside of actually teaching, he's an attentive and caring shizun. And yes, he completely does act like a father figure who is proud of his murder babies, and ends up being called A-Ba so much that all of Cang Qiong thinks he's officially adopted every single one of his disciples. (After being saved by SJ on a mission, NYY persistently begs SJ to take her in even though he desperately thinks Yin Hui isn't a good fit for her. And then, after being under him for a while, she's completed her first mission successfully, has smn else's blood on her face, and is smiling brightly. 

Ning Yingying: "I completed my mission shizun! Are you proud of me?"

Shen Jiu: "..."

Some other peaklord: "Haha like father like daughter! She's definitely your girl alright!"

Shen Jiu: "...!?!" )

Yue Qingyuan is conerneth about his Xiao Jiu, but as long as he's happy, who cares. Shen Jiu has a better relationship with the other peak lords, so when asked about why he visits brothels, he straight up tells them that it's the best place to gather information in the dark. He doesn't have that mentality of "why explain myself when no ones finna believe me anyway" He actually trusts them and is more honest with time. Shen Jiu does come clean about killing the Qiu's at some point, and the peak lords are all like-

"I didn't hear shit"

"See, I'm blind in my left eye, and 75% blind in my right-"

"Completely understandable, Shen shidi!"

They don't even ask why he did it and just assume he had a valid reason, and he absolutely fucking did.

Oh, Shen Jiu gets accused of playing dirty? Liu Qingge, he literally kills ppl and makes poison as a daytime fucking job ofc he's gonna play dirty! Shen Jiu tried killing you that one time on the well mission? Bro you good? The fact that you think he tried to kill you and failed?? You just insulted an entire peak of disciples and their ancestors. You would've been dead before you could even think of sensing their killing intent if it were true. And there was a witness too, doofus. Be fucking for real. Nahh coz there definitely would be more people who are taking Shen Jiu's side whenever the two of them fight.

Shen Jiu uses a shit ton of versatile weapons because most of his fighting and cultivation prowess comes from his wits and adapting to fighting with different styles/methods. He is kinda similar to Xie Lian bc both of them lack spiritual energy/qi (damaged spirit roots in Shen Jiu's case), but that does not mean they are weaker. It just means they learned to train their body and minds instead of relying on cultivation/qi. He has a massive arsenal of weapons along with the demonic cultivation. (Airport security would hate him)

Yin Hui has got to be my favorite fanon peak, and Yin Hui! Shen Jiu plauges so many of my waking thoughts, I can't stop-

I can add elements from my other hyperfixation into this AU, the Avatar Chronicles. Which are the written books from ATLA. The criminal organization Kyoshi joined, the Daofei, for example, could be a good plot point. Or the Platinum Affair from the Yangchen books. If you don’t know what the Avatar Chronicles are, just ignore this last part lol.

[osaemu]

hii could i please request watching n sitting under sakura trees as the blossoms fall w gojo ! missing him 😓

the gojo estate is a beautiful residence, but even with all its fountains and antiques, your favorite part is the courtyard. countless sakura trees line the massive courtyard, each fully grown with thousands of pink blossoms fluttering in the wind.

as you rest in the shade of your particular favorite, a picnic blanket spread out underneath you, you hear the soft crunch of heavy shoes on the leaf-ridden ground.

"took you long enough," you say playfully, not bothering to turn and look over at satoru. he sits by you with a soft exhale and rests his back against the tree.

"sorry, darling, got hung up with some of my dad's associates," satoru sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his lap. he hardly has to exert any effort to do so—after all, he's the strongest. but when it comes to you, he feels just a little bit weaker than he ought to. especially when you tilt your head like a puppy and smile at him, cherry blossoms fluttering around you in the wind.

satoru can't help but smile when a pink petal nestles itself in your hair, and he uses it as an excuse to run his calloused hands through your hair. you say something about not wanting to get your hair tangled, but as usual, satoru pays no heed to your words.

"satoru," you whine, flicking at his arm in a feeble effort to get him to remove his hand from your hair. "it's just a petal, stop tangling my hair!" you swat at satoru's hand again, but he only hums in response. "satoru!"

"okay, okay," he grumbles, extracting his hand from your hair and resting it on your thigh instead. "happy?"

you nod and lean against his chest, breathing in the cool, floral air of the gojo estate's courtyard. a couple moments pass in silence as you take some time to just admire the view, but of course, satoru has to interrupt.

"oh, by the way," satoru starts casually. "my parents want us to get married."

satoru's tone is awfully nonchalant for a topic like this, and because of that, it takes a second for his words to sink in. you blink a couple times before turning your head and meeting his soft blue eyes. "wait, what?"

"you heard me," satoru shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. "it's nothing urgent, but they think i'm too old to still be unmarried. heh, like i'd have any trouble gettin' myself a wife anyways." he pauses and studies your face. "but really, i just want you. and my parents know that, so they thankfully dropped all of that arranged marriage bullshit."

your mouth falls open a little as a flood of information sweeps through your head. one second, you're just sitting under sakura trees with your boyfriend, and the next, he's casually bringing up marriage?

"satoru, this is . . . a lot to just dump on me right now," you say slowly. "i—"

his eyes widen and a small laugh slips out of his lips. "oh, i didn't mean it that way!" satoru says quickly. "i was just tellin' you what we were talking about in there," he clarifies, vaguely gesturing to the main building in the gojo estate. "there's nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, m'kay? i'll actually have this talk with you when i think we're ready, not when a bunch of old geezers want us to."

you smile at that, shaking your head endearingly at satoru's words. "you need to start watching your mouth, sweetheart. it'll get you in trouble someday," you tsk.

satoru scoffs lightheartedly and grabs your chin, pulling you onto his lips for a soft, floral kiss. "and you'll be there to drag me out of it, won't ya?"

yeah, you probably will be.

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ CALL OF DUTY: MODERN WARFARE CHARACTER FAMILY OUTLINES

RATING PG-13 - Parents strongly cautioned [ Content warnings : references to sex, references to breeding kinks, heavy fluff, children, both pregnancy and adoption scenarios, toxic family relationship dynamics, minimal cursing, brief mention of Ghost and Farah's traumas, brief mention of transphobia and homophobia ]

SYNOPSIS In my opinion, what having a family with an assortment of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters would look like, be it how many kids they would have, their reasonings for having kids, their relationships with their kids, et cetera.

WORD COUNT 6.8k

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

Three sons and one daughter - ages ten, seven, five, and one

I'm certain we're all more than aware of this man's painfully obvious and present breeding kink, so it's no surprise to anyone that he would want to have a lot of children to call his own. He won't just be satisfied with one or two children - he's always wanted to have a full, bustling home, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to make that a reality.

Every child of his is planned, both in pregnancy and adoption scenarios. He meticulously calculates and works to space each child out a certain range and number of years apart from one another in an effort to give himself extended experience with each developmental stage - or so he claims.

He wanted kids of his own, he decided, the second he met you, and he just hopes and prays that you'll be open to the concept of having quite a number of them. And, in his favor, you do and indulge him in his little fantasies.

And, in the ingenious words of @ghostlywhiskey , "i said that man has SWIMMERS AND THOSE MFS ARE PRICE BOYS". So, there's a very obvious patten that begins to form as more and more members are added to his little family. But, of course, there's one token daughter added into the mix, who he loves all the same as he does his boys.

In my eyes, the ideal father figure. He's extremely open and honest with his children, listens and talks with them whenever they have an issue or question, is very understanding and accepting overall, and, more than anything, works tirelessly to be a present, positive figure in their lives.

Because of all of the experience that he has with his own children, this results in the members of Task Force 141 and associated parties going to him for help or to have him answer questions they may have around their own children.

He tries to be as present of a father as he can be, given the challenges and distance that comes with his line of work, but always makes an effort, at the very least, call his kids whenever he can to ask about how they're doing, what they're up to, et cetera.

Refuses to talk about his job or entertain his children in the very idea of joining the military - the horrors he's seen is not in the slightest something he wants his children to witness for themselves. He knows the job best, and he will not allow any of his children to join.

Raises his sons right - they're respectful, mind their manners, don't start fights (but finish them, should the need arise) and instills all the necessary core morals and values they'll need to be good people when they grow up. All the same, he teaches his daughter not to take shit from anyone.

LIEUTENANT SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Three daughters and one child (non-binary) - ages ten, six, three, and nine

Originally, he had never even spent a moment in time thinking about or entertaining the possibility of him having children, much less actively putting effort into reaching that goal. Especially when considering his own history, he can't even begin to see himself as a father, fearing he'll end up like his own.

So, when you get pregnant for the first time on complete accident/enthusiastically bring up the idea to him of adopting a child seemingly out of nowhere to him, he's completely shell-shocked. This is something he's ever put considerable thought into, and now it's being dropped into his lap without a moment to process it or breathe.

So, when he lays eyes on his first little girl for the first time, he's terrified. He's a dad now, whether he wants to or is ready for it or not. And no, it's not like he didn't tell you to get an abortion/refuse to sign the papers, but he isn't fully ready for such a heavy responsibility yet. But when he has her in his arms for the first time, he's done for.

After the first, he's so open and willing - and, quite frankly, pushing for - trying for/adopting another child. Yes, he was scared for his life to become a dad at first, but now that he's one now, he can't help but want another - and best you believe that his children are his absolute world.

Curse of the military. That's it, that's the tweet. He had all girls, plus, of course, his one gender non-conforming, non-binary kid, and all of them have equal ownership over his heart.

He's the perfect girl-dad, letting them do whatever they want with him - their own personal dress-up doll, if you will. Painting his nails, putting make-up on him, styling his hair, making him attend tea-parties and playing make-pretend. Whatever they want him to do, he does it.

When his second-oldest comes out to him (they came to him first before they did you), his heart absolutely melts. To know that his kid trusts him so wholeheartedly and isn't scared to share such a private thing with him lets him know just how good of a dad he is.

He's quick to use the right pronouns, allocates a separate room for them, helps them go shopping for clothes and items they may want, tests out new names for them should they want to, et cetera.

He's not at all a strict parent, as much as one might believe. He's stoic, cold, and cruel, sure - but that's to everyone but his family. For them? He's the biggest pushover in the world. If his children want anything, best believe he's doing everything in his power to fulfill their wishes.

SERGEANT JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH

One son and one daughter - ages four and five

He's always wanted children, that mindset and dream having been set long before he ever even joined the military in the first place. He used to take care of and watch his nieces, nephews, and younger cousins a lot when he was younger, so it eventually evolved into him wanting little rascals of his own as time went on - to be able to nurture, care for, and have fun with.

So, when the opportunity arises to actually start a family of his own, something that he's always dreamed of, he's so giddy. In complete honesty, he's practically beaming and bouncing on the balls of his feet, so willing and ready to make this into a reality. He has his own fears and anxieties, yes, but his excitement far outweighs it.

Both of his children are planned, of course, wanting them to be close in age as he can get them, and he's ecstatic that he gets to have both a boy and a girl. He gets the best of both worlds that way! And, when he finally gets to hold each in his arms for the first time, his heart shatters, melts, and crumbles in the best ways possible.

He isn't just a solider, a boyfriend, or a husband anymore - he's a dad now.

He's such a fun dad in general, always joking around with his kids, letting them - safely - do things that they aren't supposed to do, messing with them, taking them out for desert and sweets, et cetera.

But, as much as he's the "fun dad", that doesn't mean that he's any less strict. If his kids mess up or do something bad, he's often the one responsible for determining punishment, telling them off, and teaching them not to make the same mistake again.

His work is demanding, yes, and that often takes him away from you, his partner, and his kids for long periods of time, but he always comes back, ready to be a dad again and put "Soap" on the backburner.

The perfect role model for his kids, in all honesty - the best combination between a best friend and a parental figure. His kids tell him everything and they aren't scared of him to keep secrets from him, always telling him the truth without shame or hesitation.

SERGEANT KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

One son and one daughter - ages seven

Both of children are twins

Having children wasn't something he had ever planned for, in his mind. Not to say that he never entertained the idea of having children of his own, nor is it to say something that he's against, either. He simply hadn't ever thought about making it a reality before.

But, when the opportunity to have/adopt children comes up into his life, it's welcomed, allowing himself to go with the flow of things and let them play out as is. He thinks about it a lot more now, daydreaming about what his child's personality will be like, what they'll look like, who they'll like more...

And then boom! Twins!

He's starstruck when he first gets the news that he'll be having/adopting twins. It's like a two-for-one deal, or so he says, genuinely shocked and excited at the same time. The way he sees it, his kids will always have a best friend (or, a partner-in-crime) and he's all for it.

Twins are a lot, he knows, but that doesn't mean he isn't up for the challenge. If anything, it only spurs him on to push to be the best dad he could ever possibly be.

For better or for worse, his kids adopt his sarcastic nature as their own and increase it by tenfold. It's his fault, given that whenever his kids are around, he's talking to them as if they'd understand his points and smart comments. They don't, most of the time, but they know their dad's tone, and they're quick to match it.

Takes the most time off out of anyone else in Task Force 141 to spend with his family if and when he can allocate it. He wants to be as present of a dad as possible, and if that means taking work home when he could easily finish it on base and then come home, maybe a day or two later, he's doing it.

Very adamant on having days out with his kids, be it for the purpose of a mental health day or just for fun. Takes them out to get breakfast and lunch, plus going to do another activity. Maybe the park, the playground, watch a movie at the cinema, go to the zoo/aquarium, et cetera.

He's not a super strict parent but that doesn't mean he isn't going to disciple his children if they misbehave or do something wrong. His punishments are lax, focused more towards talking out the issue that giving harsh lessons.

STATION CHIEF KATE LASWELL

One son - aged sixteen

She and her wife decided that they really wanted to have a kid of their own a few years into their marriage and, especially given that neither of them aren't getting any younger and didn't necessarily have the energy, time, or willingness to take on the challenge of pregnancy for themselves, they choose the more sensible option available and adopt.

It's a long, deliberate process that they have to go through in order to be so much as be approved for being able to adopt, but, once that hurdle is overcome, the two of them waste no time and immediately begin their search for the newest member of their own little family, allocating time to meticulously decide who they'll, inevitably, choose.

Their hearts end up settling on a little boy whose four years old, somehow resembling the both of them in different ways - be it personality wise or by appearance.

The two of them decide that they want to be able to escape and skip the issues that come packaged with newborns and toddlers, but also have a hand in the development process of their son, thus explaining the age they chose to adopt him at. This accomplishes both of these "goals" they have in mind, and it works out beautifully in their favor.

No matter their son's ethnic background, the two of them make a conscious effort to try and introduce practices, traditions, holidays, ideals, et cetera from their son's culture into their own as a means to keep him connected with his own past and history.

Although her job is connected with the military and does, to an extent, seperate her from her families for periods of time, that doesn't diminish the relationship she has with her son. He's fascinated with his mom's career, allowing for lengthy, in-depth discussion about what her job actually entails with him.

She and her wife are such good moms in general - always supporting him in everything he wants to do and encouraging him a thousand times over. There isn't a second in his life where he isn't being supported or loved, but it by his moms or the numerous different adult figures in his life.

Laswell gets in a fair bit of trouble with her wife for not disciplining her son in any way, shape, or form. She may have no issue with doing so with the military individuals she works with - she can be scary and intimidating when she wants to be - but with her son? She's absolutely a pushover.

Quits smoking the second she and her wife make plans towards actually adopting. It's a harsh line she draws, and one she abides by without hesitation or question.

VALERIA GARZA

None

Now, this isn't because I want to exclude her from this concept for any reasoning whatsoever, but rather because I can't really see her having or wanting any children in the first place. She's "El Sin Nombre", after all. And, in her defense, the cartel isn't necessarily the best enviroment for a child to grow up or develop in - surprising nobody.

She knows this fact better than anyone, and, having sworn her life to her role in Las Almas and the cartel, she chooses to not have any children. Additionally, she isn't going to be irresponsible and make herself vulnerable like that where, to have someone to love and care fore, only for the possibility of them being used as leverage against her later on hanging over her head, putting them in danger.

And, in any case, she has a breeding kink to make up for it, eh?

But, in all seriousness, as wonderful as I think she could possibly be with children in general, I doubt she plans on having or adopting children of her own unless she actually makes the move to leave the business of the cartel altogether - which, lets face it, with who she is and the role that she plays, is highly unlikely.

To make up for this, let's talk about her relationship with kids in general - be it the children of Las Almas and nieces and nephews that she has and interacts with.

She fits the "cool aunt" persona to a tee, always bringing gifts and/or cash to her younger family members, getting them whichever they desire, playing games with them, talking shit about people and listening to them vent, et cetera.

If the children have a problem with someone and, if aren't family, she has no issue doing something about it, be it using a scare tactic on them or completely removing the other person from the equation in more serious scenarios.

All the kids love her, no matter if they're family or if they know her or not. If she isn't busy and one of her men have a child of their own that they need to tend to while they're on the clock, she'll let the kid stay around in her office, so long as they don't disturb the peace.

VLADIMIR MAKAROV

One son and one daughter - ages eleven and five

Now, as cold, cruel, stoic, and heartless of a character that Makarov is, I personally believe that there would be select factors that would influence him to actually want children. Technical, albeit, and not for the sake of having someone to nurture and care for - at least, in the beginning - but I do believe that, for his own reasons, he would still want children as he progresses on later in his career and plans.

The only reason I could ever see for him to so much as bring up the concept of having children, in a way that makes sense when considering his character, would be due to the result of a close encounter that has him just barely scraping out of whatever altercation with his life to spare and hold onto.

He decides then and there that he wants to have a child - a son, specifically - who will be able to take his place and lead the groups that he controls and reigns over when he, inevitably, passes because, like he stated: "even I'm replaceable". It's a morbid phrase, yes, but it makes sense for him to have this be his reasoning.

He wants his replacement to be his own, too, and not for one of men to simply be promoted after he passes. After all, their ideologies, morals, and values could change over time and alter from his own, and he can't have that. However, if he were to have a child, he could foster and tailor their beliefs to match his own.

And besides, there's a certain charm that comes with saying his son is going to be the next in line. So, to his favor, he gets a first-born son, just as he had wished. His daughter, however, is completely accidental and unplanned/an abrupt decision when she is born/adopted. (In the context of pregnancy, though, its entirely his fault that she's conceived out of nowhere - wear protection, folks.)

For the longest time, his relationship with his son is, for lack of better wording, toxic - but this does change! If only with your intervention. All he wants in the beginning is for his son to be able to take over for him in the future - that being his sole purpose. And, unfortunately, he makes that a known fact.

Brings his son in with him to work on base often, working to teach and show to him the empire that he'll be taking over once his dad is gone. He gets a front-row view to the horrors his father is behind and in control of, be it the planning process for strategized and organized attacks, his cruel methods for dealing with traitors, and otherwise.

As much as he might, at heart, want to be a boy-dad, his relationship with his son is so strained and, frankly, falling apart, even if he refuses to acknowledge it, and so toxic in nature that it's only natural he becomes a girl-dad when his daughter is finally born. It's unfair, yes, but it's the truth of the matter.

He keeps his daughter far away from his work, shielding her completely from the badness of the world - the badness that he himself helps to create. She's his his pride and joy, and she's such a daddy's girl, leaving his son to fall to you, his other parental figure, for comfort and support - that of which his dad fails to provide.

COLONEL KÖNIG

Four daughters - ages two, three, seven, and fourteen

Interestingly enough, he's actually always quietly desired and yearned for a family of his own, though, he's never had any open discussions about it until it came to you. It's almost funny, the way that he's so awkward and tends to shy away from others any chance he's allowed to, and yet, he wants nothing more than a sizeable family for himself.

To have someone to fight for, to come back home to... it's all a soldier ever wants - himself included. And, for him, that includes a family that doesn't just consist of him and you (as content and happy as he is with it for now). The mere prospect of coming home to children of his own who can greet him and adore him is all he could ever ask for.

Though, even given this, he's especially nervous to actually become a father. He overthinks it a lot, wondering if his kids will even like him, going over the multitude of different ways that he could mess up even when he has no reason to. Because after his first, that fear melts away into enthusiasm.

Four children, especially when they're all girls, is a lot, yes, but he handles it with ease. He doesn't let the stress of it get to him, simply taking everything in stride and dealing with it rationally. He wants to preserve the positive relationship he has with his daughters, and approaching things from a logical standpoint is just the way to do it.

The true curse of the military - all girls, and so many of them, too. His younger children are all girly to an extent, too, so he's no stranger at a tea party and getting his make-up and nails done messily by his daughters. His oldest, although she may not be as girly, still has her moments, be it certain musicians maybe that she's forced her dad to listen to the entire discography of.

His girls love use him as a prop and character in their bouts of playing "make pretend". He's played a tree, standing still for them to climb all over, a dragon, protecting them from all of the bugs and critters that threatens to offend the, and even a race car, holding onto one or two of them as tight as he can and breaking into a sprint. It's strange and exhausting, sure, but he loves it.

Teaches his daughters to stick up for themselves - it's one of the first lessons he ever teaches them. Whether it be in terms of don't let people see you as a pushover, don't let anyone tell you what you can or cannot do, or stick up for yourself by any means necessary, he instills those ideals into his kids. Teaches his eldest how to fight, too - per her request - as another measure and precaution.

Although being apart of KorTac and being a colonel in general keep him busy and occupied and away from his family, that doesn't stop him from trying his hardest to be with them. He sends each and every one of his daughters, with the inclusion of yourself, gifts he picks up while he's away that reminds him of you all, just as a means to remind you all that he's here and he loves you.

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES

Two daughters and two children (transgender) - ages seventeen, six, and thirteen

Both of his trans children, female-to-male, are twins

In his daydreams, he's always imagined himself with a family of his own. A nuclear family, the American ideal - married with two and a half kids, a dog, a big house with a white-picket fence, a stable job. The whole lot. That's all he's ever had in mind for himself and he yearns to make it a reality.

So, when the topic of children come up after the married, dog, house, and job things are already figured out, he's eager to speak his mind and give his input on the matter. He's got the biggest, most lopsided grin spread out across his face when he lays eyes on his eldest daughter for the first time, and that only solidifies his dreams.

Though, ironically enough, he always had in his mind that he'd have more boys than girls. He loves his daughters wholeheartedly and without shame, mind you, but... still, the sentiment remains. He always imagined himself with one, maybe two or three boys - someone he could play catch or watch sports with.

He doesn't get that, until he does, and his twins come out to him (albeit, at separate ages) as trans ftm. Of course, the whole "trans" thing is new to him, and while he may be a little clueless, seeing how happy it makes the two of his kids is more than enough to convince him him to put in effort and be the most supportive dad he can be.

I don't want anyone coming to me saying "oh, he's transphobic" because no he's not. He may fit that all-American persona of his to a tee, but I refuse to say that he would go as far to be transphobic or homophobic, especially with his own children. (Also, I'm petty, so you get two of them).

He fights and works hard to be present in his children's lives. He may be the Commander and CEO of Shadow Company, but that doesn't mean his men can't function without him from time to time. His family means everything to him, all of his time off being spent towards treating them.

Not the parent who pushes for his children to each be involved in a million after-school activities, but encourages them to take up something. His oldest plays volleyball, his second-oldest plays baseball, his second-youngest plays the drums, and his youngest dances. Takes them all to practice and helps them however he can.

Genuinely just copy and paste Jeff Sadecki from Yellowjackets and that's him as a parent. Except... with less of the drama. He's dedicated to being involved in his children's lives, making memories and having fun with them, telling horrible dad jokes from time to time, and whatever else.

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO "RUDY" PARRA

One child (agender) - aged sixteen

He never actually planned on or anticipated becoming a father in the first place, more focused on dedicating his efforts towards his career and not spending more than a passing thought on creating a family. Not to say that he doesn't want one, it's just a concept he hasn't spent too much time thinking about or worrying over.

So, this means that you have to be the one to bring it up to him. And, granted, it somewhat catches him off guard - you want to try for a baby/consider adoption with him? Since when? It throws him off, to be honest, and he genuinely has to take some time to reflect and decide if this is actually something that he wants.

And, in your favor, it is.

He's somewhat nonchalant about the whole thing, not really realizing how big of an event it is until you're close to the due date/you're approved for adoption. And then it hits him full force that, yeah - sooner than later, he's actually going to become a dad and deal with the responsibilities of one and have a child of his own.

It's humbling, funnily enough, and he revaluates his priorities when it comes to his career, you, and child-to-be.

Even though he never anticipated or saw himself as someone who could accurately fill the role of a father, he's a good one. More akin to a close friend at times whereas others he can more accurately be described as a mentor, but it's important for fathers to share both of those factors, in a way. Which he absolutely does.

His child comes out to him before they reach double-digits, and its another moment that he has to pause for. Of course he's going to love them unconditionally, no matter if they identify as something else or go by different pronouns or want to use a different name, it's simply something he hadn't expected.

Doesn't really at all punish his child if they do something wrong. He'll have a conversation with them, sure, but it never truly extends to anything beyond that. Simply a "hey, don't do that again, okay?" and moving on with life. All that matters is that they understand and acknowledge their faults, in his eyes.

Involves himself in whatever his child is interested in and tries to understand it as best he can. They have a sport they're really into? He's buying them merch and watching matches or games with them. They're really into a certain video game? Start up a new save file, he'd love to play. Genuinely super supportive.

Does not at all plan on having another child. He's content with the one and, quite frankly, even one can be a lot at times. He can't count how many times he's had to go to those parent support groups just to ensure he's being as good of a dad as he can be.

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS

Four sons and one daughter - ages twelve, eleven, nine, and eight

His oldest sons are twins

The absolute definition of a family man. He, somewhat akin to Price, always imagined himself with a family of his own later down the line in his life - a large, lively one, too. He grew up in a larger household himself with a number of brothers and sisters, both younger and older, and he always imagined the same for his future family.

He's so enthusiastic about it, too. He isn't scared or worried at all, confident in his own abilities to take care of children, given his own extended experience, so he has little to no fear in what he'll be like as a parent or his own capabilities. He knows what he'll need to do, how to do it, what to buy, what to say, et cetera, so he's confident.

He doesn't really have a plan for what their ages will be, more so allowing everything to flow naturally, but he can't deny the fact that he has his own picture in mind for what he wants his family to look like. Ironically, he always imagined himself with more girls than boys, but it seems like life had... a different plan for him.

He loves it, though. He's extremely good with newborns and toddlers especially, and when he laid eyes on his twins for the first time, holding both of them to him, it was over. Plain and simple. With the first step taken, he can now fully immerse himself in being a father and cultivating the lives of his children, and that's all he could ask for.

His boys are rowdy. Especially his oldest twins and his youngest son, his eleven-year-old acting much tamer and calmer in comparison, but still has his moments. They roughhouse with one another, mess with each other, talk shit - the whole lot. Typical sibling behavior, yes, but they had so much energy.

Takes a lot of time off to be with his family when he can spare it. If he isn't physically out for an operation and instead is at the Los Vaqueros base, he sometimes will bring one or two of his children to stay in his office while he works. That is, if he doesn't up and leave to go home the second the opportunity arises.

Defiantly the one responsible for disciplining his children and dishing out punishment. It's not to say that he's cruel or mean in any sense, but he can be strict. If they do something wrong, he's quick to decide on a punishment that appropriate and relevant, dedicated to correcting that behavior as swiftly as possible.

He's an absolute pushover with his daughter, though. Not to say that he doesn't love his boys, because he does, but he'd do anything for her. Tea parties? Dress up? Make believe? You name it, no matter how embarrassing or emasculating it may be, and he's doing it if his little girl asks.

Messes around with his boys a lot. He has a positive relationship with all of them, one that's open and honest, which leaves room for him to be able to roughhouse and taunt and poke fun at them from time to time. They might have to be smart with their own words and responses, but he's making smartass, cheeky remarks whenever he can with a grin.

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KEELER

One daughter - aged eleven

He's thought about having children before, yes, but never in a realistic context. For him, in the past, it's always been more of a "let me imagine a scenario of how myself and a future family would look" but never actively taking strides or realistically think about how he would achieve that.

So, when you bring the topic up to him, he kind of stills and... actually thinks about it. There's a difference between putting yourself in a scenario and imagining it, and actually taking steps to make it into a reality. He sort of panics, too, because... would he actually make a good dad?

He's the most apprehensive and anxious person out of anyone when it comes to considering the path of parenthood. Of course, he agrees, more than willing to try for a baby/go through the adoption process with you, but he's endlessly terrified of messing things up.

Even when he actually gets to meet and hold his daughter for the first time - he's a man who has no shame in crying, because he absolutely does when he sees her - that paranoia remains. But even so, it solidifies his goal to become the best father he can be for his little girl.

So clueless at first at how to even approach fatherhood, purchasing so many parents books and listening to an abundance of podcasts and going to classes and everything of the like. He's confident in most aspects, sure, but parenthood is something he's never dealt with in the past - it's no surprise he wants to do everything in his power to be the best dad he can be.

As anxious as he is, though, he, in my opinion, is probably the best father he could possibly ever dream to be. He's attentive to his daughter's wants and needs, can gauge her emotions correctly and acts accordingly, is responsible in terms of taking precautions to keep her safe, and he's present as much as he can be.

Number one cheerleader in everything she does. Whether it be getting a passing grade or an outstanding one on a test, he's hyping her up. If she joins and becomes a part of a particular activity of interest, he's taking her out to a celebratory dinner. All words of encouragement and praise from him.

Is a very active an present parent, too. Takes her out on little father-daughter days whenever he can to wherever she wants to go. The mall to look at the one obscure candle store? Sure, he's down. The zoo to go make up conversations between the animals. Absolutely. He loves hanging out with her, and seeing the way she lights up whenever he offers to take her out is all he could ever dream of.

COMMANDER FARAH AHMED KARIM

Two sons and one daughter - ages seven, four, and eight months

In the beginning, actually, she was very opposed to the concept of having/adopting children. Given her involvement with the ULF and that the current climate in Urzikstan was far from safe to raise any child in, she had no reason to even entertain the thought. Especially considering her own past, she was against it.

For a while, most conversations of having or starting a family were shut down by her - she yearned for it in the back of her mind, sure, but it wasn't a realistic goal. That was until she and Samara had a conversation about the topic, Samara telling her that while, yes, there were dangers to it, there's nothing more fulfilling than family.

So, after long deliberations, she began to consider it more heavily, leading to discussions where she finally agreed. She has her own reservations, fears, and anxieties about it, yes, but considering all the work she's done, she's allowed to have this. To have a child or children, to make her own family that loves her unconditionally.

She keeps her family completely separate and distanced from her work. As much as she's passionate about what she does, there's that lingering fear in the back of her mind that, one day, her family could get hurt or even possibly used against her as leverage if they're discovered. So, there's a clean separation between the two.

But it's all worth it when she meets her first born son for the first time. She's playing such important roles in her life - the Commander of the ULF, a resistance fighter, someone associated with Task Force 141, and one of the few key figures tasked with liberating her country in its entirety. But, now, she's more than that. She's a mom.

Even though she's never had children of her own before, she handles motherhood like a seasoned professional. Even before her other two children, she never got too overwhelmed with the work and responsibilities that come with being a parent, handling everything with a level head and a calm voice, turning out in her favor.

Though, she's somewhat a bit stricter with her children - not in the sense of being overbearing and not trusting them, or even that she has high expectations and standards for them. Rather, she wants to ensure the safety of her children and that their childhoods never turn out like her own, so she takes extra precautions.

She doesn't actually send her children to school, rather taking time to teach them herself - with your aid, of course. It's partially for those same reasons of fear and wanting to protect her children, but she's actually really good at it. She's taught her children how to write, how to read, how to speak two different languages... it's a way that shows how invested she is in her family.

As serious as she can be with her work, she's much more laid back and relaxed when it comes to her family - just another perk and upside, she supposes. With all the stresses she deals with, being able to come home to her sons and daughter, being overwhelmed with love - it's rewarding in a way she's never experienced before.

NIKOLAI

Two daughters - ages eight and three

He's always imagined himself with children, in complete honesty, even when he was younger - to have maybe one to three of his own. To your luck, he's open about it too, so he's actually the one to bring up the idea to you in the beginning, having no shame whatsoever in his willingness to try for/adopt a child... or two or three.

He isn't scared to become a parent, per se, nor does he have many anxieties or worries about becoming one, but there is still that subtle worry in the back of his mind that he won't be the most fit parent.

Everyone jokes about how he can be reckless and unethical, and he enjoys the banter, but it does make him self-conscious and second guess his own ability to be an adequate father.

He doesn't really consider or worry about what ages his children are, simply allowing things to fall into place naturally, as they should. He may have imagined himself with children in his own daydreams, sure, but there was never any clear specifics for age or gender he had in mind.

But once he actually gets to meet his daughters for the first time, those worries fade away partially - they still linger, yes, but for the most part he lets them simmer on the backburner, not allowing them to interfere with him as he directs his focus away from worrying and more towards becoming the father his girls deserve.

His daughters are just as much of a menace as he is. Maybe not in the "I deal with sketchy people on a daily basis and have done some questionable things" kind of way, but they have their own mischievous streaks like their father. Be it orchestrating pranks or smaller acts of the like, sometimes they even outshine the father.

He's playful by nature, yes, and he is with his girls, but you'll also never meet a more protective parent than him. He may be sly and smug and appear all cool and collected outwardly, but when it comes to his daughters, he's doing everything in his power to protect them from anything, be it people... or ants.

Likes to be his daughters' own personal jungle gym, letting the two of them hold onto him and climb all over him without a care in the world. Additionally, that means he makes for the perfect mode of transport for them, too - having them cling onto him as he walks around, moving them from one place to the other.

He can act like a child in his own right, but he's still a good father nonetheless. In line with that protective nature, he does everything he can to both foster a positive relationship and set rules and boundaries. Bed times, chores, punishments, et cetera - he's in charge of those things, and, while he isn't strict, he's responsible.

[gotham-daydreams]

Hi hi! It's good to see you back :D

Alternative idea. Artist reader, except more in a traditional sense. I.e. painter, digital artist, etc.

Like imagine a reader who adored making art of people specifically -- they've painted and sketched hundreds of people, except their sketchbooks are only filled with friends and strangers, no family.

And yeah, maybe there's an old sketch of some of the family members before things soured completely, but it's crumpled and torn, and the features are barely recognizable. And when the reader's kidnapped, they're just not having it. They absolutely fucking refuse to pick up a pencil to sketch or paint any of them. Over their dead body. They refuse to associate any of them with art, which is something so personal and important to them. The family don't deserve to be portrayed so intimately after everything they've put the reader through.

And they're petty, too. Like if Damian critiqued one of their pieces they've been working on, they completely ditch it because it's been soured in their eyes now.

Except (and playing off that last post), everyone's growing more and more frustrated, and the reader's not giving even an inch. And suddenly, people start questioning... well, if the reader won't share their art with the family, then what good is it to any of them? You don't wanna paint any of them? Alright, that's fine. They'll just break your arm! It's not like you were using it for anything important anyway. Maybe if you hadn't been so fucking stubborn, none of this would have happened. You brought this upon yourself. This is your fault.

And the reader's just crushed because that's their livelihood gone. I mean, they live to create art, it's the only thing that's kept them sane whilst kidnapped, and now they can't even hold their medium properly.

I can imagine some of the more delusional members of the family convincing themself that it's the user's art that's somehow driving a wedge into their relationship, and thus by removing their ability to create, they're getting rid of the obstacle in their relationship. And some of them are just bitter. Like you won't share this precious key part of your life with them? Fine. Then they'll just take that part away from you so neither of you can have it.

You guys have to stop reading my mind sometimes I swear to god... I didn’t even have Artist!Reader written in my notes yet.. what is this? LMAO

But all jokes aside, I have thought of an Artist!Reader and mixed in with a few other elements since my brains is so weird with ideas that are too similar, and believe me when I say that while it is a similar-ish conflict at the start, it does derail into its own thing- and I'll just say that, well, hurt people, hurt people.

Regardless! Before I spoil and give away too many of my own ideas and what I already have planned for such an idea, I can see that in a way!

Though, don't get me wrong, the family does collectively have a very strong resolve, and as good as they work individually - when they come together, it is truly a sight to behold. The reader will have to be as unwavering as them, and it'll take more than just the reader being unwilling to paint for them specifically for them to even consider physically harming the reader over it - even for the more impulsive members of the family.

However, if such a thing were to happen- depending on who it is... yeah, they'd definitely point the finger at anything but themselves over it. Though, I will also say that some will absolutely own it, and this goes for any reader and just hurting them too.

Like, yeah. They hurt you, but because you weren't listening. You weren't being yourself. You were going to hurt yourself- and they're just stopping you from doing that. They will do it again if you don't stop. So, get with the program, and no one will get hurt, okay?

Because you get what you give, right?

(Good luck trying to break or even sprain any of their arms to throw their point back in their face, its not happening - they've dealt with people twice their size, with powers, and more- and they not only have beat them, but the bat has plans to take care of them should anything happen, even if that is thanks to his paranoia. You'll be lucky enough to even get a lucky shot in no matyer your combat experience prior. It's not happening... not easily, anyway. Not as easily as they can break yours.)

Even then, I think they'd try to just 'temporarily' fracture or break your wrist at most over that, and even then the family member would have to be really pissed off and impulsive - especially to a point where they just won't leave the room to cool off.

I'm not about to say that it'd be 'deserved', but it'd take a lot for the family to even try to do something that they know will take away the reader's ability to do something they love so much. In an Artist!Reader scenario that you described, they'll definitely just try to get what they can - even if they can't get anything for themselves.

Really, I think something that'd make any of them sort of 'snap' like that is if the reader kept doing pieces of other people, and the family member's own jealousy got the best of them in that moment. Be it just the situation and reader's overall attitude n just little things building up, or a small thing the reader said that was just the straw that broke the camels back.

Would they feel bad? Absolutely, but depending on the person, would they lowkey view it as punishment for the reader being so stubborn and adament about not doing even a sketch for them? Most likely, if only a little, and even so they'll keep it to themselves, unless they've got a big mouth or are just that pissed off.

Honestly, I don't know what would push them to do a whole arm - but probably something similar to the OG limb removal post — just them being pushed to an extreme edge after such a long time.

I don't think they'd be that cruel, and if so then only in a fit of anger as that does tend to happen, but genuinely? No. Absolutely not. Maybe jealous because your attention is elsewhere, but to deem it unimportant because the reader isn't doing something on them? I don’t really think so, but maybe that's because I don't really see the Batfam being those kind of people, even on an off day.

They do enjoy whatever the reader is into as they can see it makes the reader happy, and even if some definitely feel like they should be the reader's biggest source of happiness, comfort, and all of those good things, they will ultimately let it be. If anything, they might find themselves enjoying the things the reader is into for one reason or another.. unless its dangerous or drives them crazy, which.. well, it depends on how you look at things if its easy to do that or not. They're selfish, yes, but I wouldn't say they're so overly sensitive? I'm not totally sure how to word it, but maybe what I mean will show more in the future, haha!

Especially since... well, Chapter 4 isn't going to help, but I'll be real and say that I don't really consider the Not [ ] Series to be my best work, even if I do enjoy it quite a bit. I could definitely do better, but I consider it more of an introduction into what I write, how I write, and things like that so... hopefully that shows in my other projects when i get to them as I finish up this short series!

[spitdrunken]

i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father

Part 4:

Dinner has just been served, so you're gathered around the dining room table with Grandma'am and Coriolanus. Crassus isn't home yet, but you're not worried about his absence. He'll be home any minute. He always walks in around the time dinner's served.

In fact, you're expecting to hear the door open and your husband's footsteps echo against the marble floor at any second. Like you've been hearing every single night around this time since you moved into the Snow penthouse; became a part of the Snow family.

You’re picking at your food with disinterest while listening to Coriolanus brag about the praise he received from Dr. Gaul during his internship earlier in the day.

“Dr. Gaul wants me to help her conduct an experiment on a new test subject.” Coriolanus smiled proudly, icy eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh, I hope it's nothing too ghastly. Some of those science experiments can be atrocious.” Grandma’am says while cutting her chicken with such grace. Truly, her manners were from a time once forgotten- a time of gentleman and cavaliers. “Why, I remember when I was a girl our science teacher made us dissect frogs. Can you believe that?”

And suddenly the sound of the phone ringing fills the air.

Ring, ring, ring…

“I'll get it.” You announce, removing your napkin from your lap before standing up.

Coriolanus just nods before telling Grandma'am, “Oh, Dr. Gaul won't be having me dissecting frogs. Her experiments are more complex than that.”

Yea, the mad scientist will probably be having him dissect the latest drugged and numbed body of a district test subject turned mutt.

Ring, ring, ring...

You quickly make your way into the sitting room, which was closer to the dining room and had a phone in it.

Ring, ring, ring…

“Hello, Snow residence. Mrs. Snow speaking.” You answer in the polite way you've been instructed to take phone calls for the family. Yes, the Snows are an old and highly regarded family so answering the phone has to be a polite and professional affair.

“Y/N, it's me. Crassus.” Your husband says over the phone. Of course, the phone in the sitting room isn't a video phone, but a simple standard phone, so you can't see his facial expressions.

The video phones are in the living room and in your husband's study. Why, who knows. You really don't care either. Not like you talk to a lot of people on the phone anyways.

Sadly, the few friends you had drifted away from you once you married Crassus shortly after graduating the Academy. Apparently, your ‘friends’ didn't want to associate with you anymore because your husband's a middle-aged man; a cold-hearted war hero. Yes, you suppose that your husband intimidated your ‘friends’ just by his presence and that's why they all drifted away.

Sometimes your brother calls you to check in, but, sadly, he's too busy with his life as an Officer in 12. And your mother rarely calls. You don't know why, but for some reason you being married and a mother doesn't quite sit well with her despite the fact that she signed off on your arranged marriage contract.

Your brow furrows at hearing your husband on the phone. Shouldn't he be on his way home right now?

And as if he could read your thoughts, Crassus tells you, “I’m calling because I'm going to be late for dinner.”

Why?

As if he heard your mental musing, he explains, “I let my secretary leave early. It's his anniversary and he's taking his wife out for dinner.”

Of course, your husband lets his secretary leave early to celebrate his anniversary while you've never celebrated an anniversary let alone a birthday with Crassus. Hell, the only reason you celebrate holidays with your husband's because they're federal and all of the government buildings are closed for them.

“So, I'm afraid I'm not quite sure what time-” Crassus began to say, only to cut himself off mid sentence when he heard you sniffling over the phone.

Crassus couldn't help, but feel as if he's the reason you're sniffling. He doesn't know why, but it sends a pang to his cold heart. He's sitting at his desk, clutching his phone; listening to your sniffles turn into soft sobs and he has no idea how to deal with it. Crassus isn't a man that's a natural comforter; in fact he's naturally stern and aloof.

“Petal?” Crassus asks, the new pet name slipping from his tongue before his mind could think better of it. Before he could utter your name.

Petal? Since when does your husband use pet names with you? Are you hallucinating? Is your baby blues making you hear things? Wiping your tears, due to your rollercoaster emotions brought on by the baby blues, you compose yourself and tell Crassus, “I'll have your plate placed in the oven for you. You can reheat it whenever you get home.”

You didn't even give Crassus a chance to respond, just told him, “I'll see you whenever you get home. Bye.”, before hanging up on him.

Instead of returning to the dining room, you opted to spend some time with your son in his nursery. Since Cassian's sleeping, you decide to just sit in the corner rocking chair while watching him.

Cassian was such a precious baby. Over the last few days he's started to settle easier; sleep a bit longer. He's a good baby; doesn't cry too much- just when he's hungry or his diaper’s soiled. Little Cassian Xandros is also a very happy baby. Even tho he's barely a week old, you swear he smiles at you every time his icy eyes (Snow eyes) lands on you- his mom.

You're not sure how long you've been in the nursery for, but you know it's been a while because Coriolanus enters the room with a frown maring his prominent and flawless face.

“You never came back to the dining room after answering the phone, mommy.” Coryo tells you, closing the door behind him and striding over to you.

“I wasn't hungry.” Is your excuse. Well, it wasn't an excuse per say. You truly did lose your appetite considering you were picking at your plate before Crassus even called. You're blaming that on the baby blues since you're feeling a bit melancholy.

“You can't skip meals, Y/N. You're a nursing mother; you need all the strength you can get to properly feed our son.” He chastises while towering over you.

Sighing, you remind your lover, “As far as legality’s concerned, Coryo, Cassian's my son with Crassus; he's his father while you're the older brother.”

Coriolanus' handsome face contorts as his baritone echoes out darkly, “Don't throw that minor inconvenience into my face. Despite what legal papers say I'm the baby's father and as his father I want what's best for him, which includes you eating properly in order to nurse him.”

The University student's berating sounds harsh to you. Perhaps it's because of your baby blues or perhaps it's because he's making you feel like he's attacking your abilities as a mother. But whatever the reason, his lecture has tears springing to your eyes. Tears that you just can't control.

Coriolanus' face skews up in bafflement. He can't understand why you're breaking down in tears over nothing. He's just having a conversation with you. And he's noticed that this isn’t the first time you've been weepy and dismal for no good reason.

Yes, over the last few days while coming and going from the penthouse, Coriolanus has noticed that you've been a sniffling, melancholic mess. But he can't figure out why. You have him and the baby he decided to give you, you should be happy- no, not just happy, but grateful for those things; not boo-hooing when you think you're all alone.

Frankly, the golden- haired devil with a halo of curls is tired of your tears. They have no merit. At least not in his mind.

Taking long, quick steps over to the baby's crib, your lover picks up the newborn, causing him to wake up with a loud wail of a cry, and storms over to you. Literally shoving the baby into your arms, Coryo callously orders, “Stop your mindless weeping.” As you soothe your baby, you're hiccuping while tears still continue to stain your cheeks. “You have me, who loves you, and the baby I gave you; there's no reason for you to be so out of sorts, mommy.” The platinum blonde tells you, trying to get you to see how unwarranted your cries are.

But before you can even explain that it's not your fault, that according to Grandma'am you have the baby blues, Coryo sees himself out of the room with the excuse that he was homework to do to ensure he's still the top of his graduating class.

When Crassus gets home, his mother's up and waiting for him. “Crassus, I'm appalled and ashamed that you never came home for dinner.” Grandma'am chastised her only living son as soon as he set foot in the main room of the penthouse, briefcase loosely clutched in his large hand.

“Mother-” The cold and stoic man begins, only for his mother to cut him off with a firm and motherly, “Don't mother me, Crassus Xanthos Snow. Not when you come home 2-hours later then you should; missing dinner and quality time with your family.”, while rising from her seat and marching over to her son with as much speed as her old arthritis filled bones will let her.

“I called Y/N and told her I'd be late. Didn't she relay my message?” Crassus asks- using the question as his defense against being late.

“She received the call while we were gathered in the dining room for dinner; she never returned after your call.”

Great…him coming home late made you so sad that you couldn't even rejoin the family for dinner. Were you crying so badly that you couldn't control it; that you felt the need to eat perhaps after everyone else was done as a way to hide your sadness from them? Oh, hell, did he screw up not coming home for dinner?

Fuck!

He's a horrible husband.

A horrible, shitty, cold-hearted husband that doesn't know how to treat his wife, who’s 2-decades younger than him. But, despite being a cold, indifferent husband towards you he doesn't want you crying at the drop of a hat and being sad.

His first wife seemed so happy to be Mrs. Snow; she even seemed to smile a bit brighter when she shoved him out the door for work- and that was back when he was stationed in District 12 as the Commander and only came home to his Corso penthouse in the Capitol on furloughs. How is it that his late wife, Demeter, was never saddened by his absence while you are? You both married him at similar ages, both knew what was expected of you- being a proper socialite housewife of the respected heir of an esteemed founding Capitolite family, so what was the difference between you and her? Why is it that you're a mess, crying your eyes out, because he's emotionally cold and unavailable while his first wife wasn't bothered by it; didn't seem to mind his cold-hearted and stern ways?

Were you more emotional because you took after your father, Javani, more than your mother, Helenium? Were you more of an introverted, kind-hearted, sunshine and roses type then he originally thought? He remembers that Javani Halvir, his late best friend and your father, was very introverted and only opened up around those he was truly comfortable with, that he truly didn't have a mean bone in his body- hence why he got along so easily with just about everyone he crossed paths with, and that he always looked on the sunny side of life.

Oh shit…

If you truly have a personality like your father's then your marriage to Crassus is probably slowly killing you since he's not doing anything to make you feel comfortable. Maybe he should've looked harder to find you a suitable match with somebody younger and less jaded? But, truthfully, Crassus jumped the gun and married you in fear of General Byzantine (the former Commander of 2 that was on the rebels' side of the war before siding with his friend Strabo Plinth and joining the Capitol against the rest of the rebellion and ending the siege around Capitol City) using Strabo Plinth’s money to seduce your mother's soul into allowing him to have your hand in marriage. He knew that Javani would roll over in his grave and haunt him from Elysian if Crassus let Byzantine get his grubby, lecherous hands on you.

Giving her son a motherly whack on the arm, the type all mothers use for scolding, Grandma'am gives Crassus a much needed lecture on his skills as a husband. “Crassus, I draw the line at you missing dinner tonight. You're not a very caring or attentive husband to Y/N and maybe before my new grandbaby came I could turn a blind eye to it, but I can't do it anymore. You need to be more understanding and considerate of your wife's feelings, Crassus. She's a new mother to Cassian; her entire life is now devoted to raising the child that you gifted her, she deserves a husband that at least pretends to care about her and his newborn then one that blatantly doesn't.”

“Mother-” Crassus tried to dig himself out of the hole that was his mother's scolding, but was cut off by her snapping, “Crassus, I'm ashamed at how you're treating your wife. Being a new mother's very taxing on her; she needs your support, even if it's just faux support.”

“My first wife wasn't like Y/N; she didn't need my attention and support so badly.” Crassus points out as a weak way of defending his shitty actions as a husband.

“Demeter, bless her heart and rest her soul, was nothing like Y/N.” Grandma'am told her son. Not waiting from him to make a reply, the elderly woman explained her remark with, “She was a youthful, vapid, vain girl that viewed joining our family by marrying you as a way to get out from under her parents thumb. According to Pluribus, she batted her eyes and powdered her nose at you while plopping herself down at your table while at his old nightclub. She wanted a marriage, but was too insipid to truly want anything past the successful husband and the perfect family that includes a male heir to coddle and spoil."

Grandma'am grew to care for her first daughter-in-law after living with her for so long, since Crassus didn't take her on base with him, but she never saw her as having what it took to be a true Snow. She always thought the young lady was lacking something since she always seemed a bit dull, despite being a gentle-soul.

“And Y/N’s like her father, Javani.” Crassus stated what he'd only just realized a few minutes earlier.

Grandma'am patted her son on the cheek, a small smile gracing her lips. “It took you long enough to see it, my boy.”

Now, in Grandma'am's opinion you have what it takes to be a Snow. You're a lovely girl, very well rounded. But she's afraid that if her son doesn't support you during your baby blues then you'll turn into a former shell of yourself.

Grandma'am, unlike you, had the support of her husband during her boughs of the baby blues. Hopefully she can get her son to be benevolent towards you.

After Crassus placed his briefcase in his study, he went to your shared bedroom only to discover that you weren't there. He knew that the only other place you could be was the nursery. He made a mental note to go to the nursery to see you once he was finished showering and dressing in a pair of fine silk pajamas.

So, that's why when you're in the middle of singing your son to sleep with a pre-Panem song that you remember your father tucking you into bed with before the war: Cat’s in the Cradle, Crassus walks into the room.

Your husband quickly realizes that you're smiling at the baby cradled in your arms as you softly sing to him. That you seem genuinely happy. Crassus can't help, but to wonder if the only time you're happy and not sad is when you're spending time with Cassian.

“And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon. Little boy blue and the man in the moon.”, You softly sing, only to be interrupted by your husband's deep voice saying, “I think he's asleep and it's time for you to join me in bed, petal.”

Nodding, you stand while holding the baby close to your chest. The sight reminds your husband of a fierce lioness with her cubs. “Did you get your dinner from the oven?” You ask while bringing your baby over to his crib.

“No.” Crassus shakes his head. “I thought-” He began, only to be cut off by you flatly telling him, “You should eat before going to bed, Crassus.” Placing Cassian into his crib, you add in the rhetorical question of, “It wouldn't be good for the breadwinner of the house to get sick from malnutrition, now would it?”

Crassus assumes that you ate once Grandma'am and Coriolanus were done eating in the dining room, so he doesn't ask you to join him in the kitchen for his meal of leftovers. No, instead he just nods and tells you that he'll join you in bed once he's done eating.

And when he does join you in your shared bed, well, you're already fast asleep. So, he quietly joins you in bed- making sure not to disturb you. Like his mother said, you're a new mother whose world revolves around your son; you need as much rest as you can get.

But as he lays his platinum curls on his pillow, he realizes that you look peaceful in your sleep. He can't honestly say that he's even seen you look so content before.

And for some reason, unknown to him, he wanted to see that look of tranquility on your face during waking hours as well.

Leo Davis stepped off the elevator and went over to his desk. He was 15 minutes late, but he did have a very passionate night celebrating his anniversary with his wife last night. A celebration that started at dinner and ended in the bedroom of their modest apartment that they're paying too much rent for. And as soon as he sat down at his desk, the door to his boss's office flew open.

Oh no, was he in trouble for being late? Crassus was always in the office way before the official start time of 9 o’clock, so did he know that Leo just arrived? The secretary was scared to death of being fired for being late as he watched his boss emerge from his office. The imposing man, who was well over 6 feet tall, walked over to his employee’s desk with his coffee mug in hand.

Coming to a stop at Leo's desk, Crassus took a sip of his coffee and asked, “So, Leo, how was your anniversary with your wife last night?”

Leo Davis nearly choked on his own spit. Since when does the General Crassus Snow want to know about his personal life? The man was always shutting down all attempts at conversation that even remotely seemed to steer towards personal things, such as family. If it wasn't about work, a coffee, or a good order then Crassus didn't talk about it.

“Well, did you have a nice time?” Crassus asked as Leo just looked at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, yes, yes, we had a nice time.” Leo nods, nearly tripping over his tongue as he answers his boss. Holy hell, he still doesn't believe what's happening. That his boss is asking him about the details of his anniversary.

Deciding to not look a gift horse in the mouth, the secretary smiles and tells his boss the details of his night. Well, the details that are safe for work that is.

“You should bring your wife to Palace Arms for your anniversary. You'll have to make a reservation and it's located in the Denver Palace Hotel, but it's worth it for a special occasion.” Leo advised his boss, just to be friendly. Perhaps being friendly will get him a lesser workload. Eh, wishful thinking never hurt anyone.

Nodding, Crassus simply says, “I'll keep that in mind.” He knows that since he didn't do anything with you to celebrate your last anniversary that the he'll have to make up for his lack of interest with the upcoming one. So, he truly means it when he says he'll keep the prospect of taking you to the Palace Arms for your next anniversary in mind.

Before seeing you crying in the corner of your shared bedroom, Crassus would never ask for marital advice- and from a lowly employee as well, but now all he wants is to make you happy. He wants you to stop crying so much; wants you to stop being sad. He also wants to know what to do to change things, so that's why Crassus straight up asks his secretary, “Leo, how do you make your wife happy?”

“What?” Leo asks, wide-eyed and taken aback. Did his boss really just ask him that?

“My wife's been sad lately and since you seem to be on good terms with your wife, I was wondering, how do you make your wife happy?” Crassus asks, explaining his previous question in length, before taking another sip of his coffee.

“Um, I suppose I make my wife happy just by doing the little things for her.” Leo answers while wishing he didn't accidentally leave his travel mug of coffee at home on the kitchen counter. He could really use some right now.

“What are the little things you do for her?” Crassus asks, clearly oblivious to what ‘the little things' means. The man was cold, stern, and indifferent by nature. He wasn't one to make gestures out of care of love. So, yes, he really has no idea what his secretary's talking about.

And that was the moment that Leo Davis knew he was doomed to be General Crassus Snow’s personal marriage counselor/advisor. Oh, how the stars seemed to play a cosmic joke on him, huh?

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @nayveetbhh

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 6

Husband and Wife

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N: Guys, sorry for not posting anything in like 2 weeks. School highkey sucks. Have this to make up for it. Sorry for rushed ending, I'm tired but if I don't finish it as soon as possible, I won't be posting anything for another 2 weeks. Series Masterlist Content Warning: None really, rushed ending (I'm tired af), references to Pt.2, but not that relevant. This is also long af, 4.7k words

This scene is becoming far too familiar than you’d like it to be.

An icy nailed finger trails up your bare spine, the blackened hand grazing against the vast, open back your dress allowed, leaving your shoulder blades and a little under exposed. The other hand is draped around your midsection, pushing you against her front as firmly, the lack of her body heat practically numbing against your skin. Yet, hot air cascades against the shell of your ear, a sultry whisper in your air as her lips near your earlobe.  

“You look beautiful, my dear wife,” Arlecchino sighs out, humming in approval as her red-crossed eyes practically devour your form, the hold around your body slightly tightening it. It invokes more shudders, making you let out the softest of groans. 

“So, so beautiful,” she murmurs against your skin, her wet mouth ghosting against your nape. Her hand traces the dip of your shoulderblades before guiding her fingers to your side, her hand grasping one of your hips. “Red is a fetching color on you. Wear it more often for me, won’t you, my Lady?”  

You’re fully aware she’s only partial to the color because it resembles her pupils. She likes to associate herself with this particular hue. Narcissus himself, wasn’t she? 

One of your hands is placed over the one on your hip, wrenching it away from your person before it could creep lower. You click your tongue in ire. By this point, you’re more than aware of her persistent and irritating suggestions, always pushing the boundary between master and servant. Regardless of how many times you reprimand her, she’s undeterred–a trait you almost admire if it didn’t often hinder you. Still, you can’t deny the way your skin always tingles underneath her fingertips, or the way her amative words stirs something deep within you. With every protest and physical pushback, a prickling feeling at the back of your mind shoots through you, something you can attest to allegorize to the figurative biting of your tongue. 

There’s the common rationality that crossing the line will cause inevitable consequences that neither of you will be capable of facing, and yet you let her teeter the line. Toying with it, as if it’s not there, or a better analogy: that it’s nothing more than one of those games she enjoys playing with you. Is it because of your own lack of will or because you indulge in this far more than you should? You find contempt with the acknowledgement that you favor the way she dallies you. 

You knew that this ploy would excite the demon, give more latitude to her already desirous advances and increase her antics, but it was necessary for what you were trying to achieve. Masking as a wedded piar was the only way of concealing your identity while ensuring that Arlecchino remained by your side at all times but you wished there was a simpler guise. Regrettably, a charity event didn’t allow many guises, not with the scheme you plotted. Arlecchino, would undoubtedly, use every and any courting attempts under the guise of your ‘husband,’ throughout the entirety of the night. You only hope you could curb her behavior enough to not result in the right into becoming a blunder. 

“Arlecchino, are you so oblivious as to not be able to hold tongue?” You ask, your frigid words and sharp tongue coating your internal thoughts with a mask of coldness. 

Her words ring through your ears, sounding just like they had numerous times before. How long will it be until she stops repeating those praises, you wonder; how long will it be until they seem credible? You finally gaze up into the mirror, and there’s no objection to her statement. It’s a stunning, remarkably well-tailored scarlet dress, long and flowy with a high slit running from your thigh. It pairs well with the crimson suit that adorns the demon’s form exquisitely. The two of you do appear as an attractive pair, you admit begrudgingly to yourself. You gaze at the mirror for a moment longer before prying yourself away from the demon’s hold, stepping away from her with your back towards her. There’s the small inkling inside you that she pouts much like a scolded puppy. 

“Why, are you offering to slit it?” She offers, and you forget; that’s precisely something she’d enjoy. Always the cheeky demon that she is. From the mirror, you can see that almost infatuated expression on her face: lips curled into a cutting smirk, eyes narrowed on the image of you in the mirror, and red-crossed pupils glowering. “I’m merely commenting on your appearance, can you fault me when I have such a lovely wife before me?” 

“Don’t make me keep you on a tight leash,” you snap, once again swatting Arlecchino’s hand that tries to creep up onto your waist. “Behave yourself appropriately.”

A chuckle erupts from behind you. “If I behaved myself, then our image of doting husband and wife will shatter, no? Besides, a leash may not be very… dignified, would it? It’d be quite the presentation, indeed.”

It slips from your memory at times: how demons, or Arlecchino particularly, have no shame. 

With a scoff and a shake of your head, you reply. “Is that what you want to appear as? A dog I leash around?”

Again, another noise of amusement comes from the demon, but she replies with neither a confirmation or objection. Kinky bastard. 

“The only thing we need are finishing touches, is that right? Accessories if you will.”

You nod, making your way towards the door of your bedroom. “Your gloves and your contacts. You have them, yes?” 

“Yes, but I was referring to something else.” Before you can question it, there’s a grasp on your wrist andd then you’re spun around to face her. With the slyness of a fox, she slips a ring on your ring finger prior to your awareness, and a sparkling gemstone greets your vision. You nearly sputter at the sudden action, jerking your hand away from her hold as you extend out your hand in front of you to view it. A brilliant ruby, no, red diamond glimmers before you, encased by a sleek, intricate, gold and silver design–irrefutably based off of her usual palette she prefers to don. You collect your composure, masking it with a monotone hum. 

“I don’t recall purchasing this for tonight.” You look at her, scanning her expression: the amused gleam in her black pits and the hardly discreet smile across her lips. 

“I acquired it myself. There should be no issue with it, I presume? I thought it would… assure our disguise.” She raises up her hand, wearing a similar jewerly. 

You note that she uses ‘acquired’ over ‘purchased.’ What means have she gone through to obtain this? You don’t have even an inkling of an idea. You don’t care enough to inquire further on how she obtained a ring containing the rarest type of diamond discovered by humans yet. However, it is difficult to argue that it doesn’t achieve the job of solidifying the illusion the two of you aare trying to uphold. 

“We have everything, we need, is that correct?” 

“That’s correct, my Lady.”

“Then let’s go. Come along, Arlecchino, no point in dallying is there, my dear ‘husband?’” 

Unbeknownst to you, your words lit a spark within your butler, an inferno that will remain undying until the next morning. Thrill hums underneath her blackened skin, and the warmth and levity of adoration grips her dead, devoid, demonic heart. 

—

Upon arrival at the venue of the charity event, a grand mansion, it bares much resemblance to the ball that you and Arlecchino went to for information gathering–your first failure, regrettably, on no one’s fault but yours. You had banked on your source of information to be accurate, and what a fool you made of yourself then. Though this time, you had a different objective in mind, this one more promising for success. 

Hosted by Magnate Tartuffe, a philanthropist and so-called ‘Savior of the Poor,’ you have no doubt the charity event is just a convention for his more… shift business partners. The perfect den to gather evidence of this scum’s lies, and a good place to see who else is involved with his web of deceit. You pose as one of the guests invited to such an event…how lucky for you that you just come across her invitation first instead of her. 

Rich people do love their ballrooms, don’t they? 

You observe the dancefloor and the pleasant couples. Unsurprisingly, some of who you recognize: politicians, entrepreneurs, philanthropists; this place reeks of two-faced snakes. Arlecchino’s prickling gaze bores into you, and you have no doubt that your ‘husband’ wants nothing more than to ‘blend in’ among the dancing pairs with you. Sure enough, after a few minutes of wandering through the swarms of people, there is a tug on your dress and you redirect your attention from the various sea of invitees to your butler. 

“We look quite conspicuous wandering about, don’t we? Why don’t we indulge ourselves for a little bit, my love?” Arlecchino says to you from behind, her gloved hand finding yours, intertwining your fingers. She pivots you to face her again, a mischievous glint in her obsidian abysses. Through her gloves, her coldness bleeds through the silk fabric. Her fingers run over your ring with careful deliberation. 

Love. It’s a word that you think seldom comes from a demon’s lips. And yet, you find yourself entertaining the notion of her repeating that single syllable in that distinct lilt. Foolish, you chide yourself, but perhaps there is some truth to her previous statement. Still, now is not the time for dawdling, you reason. 

“Now? You know better that this event gives little leeway to do as we please.” You refute, but you’re swept in her embrace, drew against her with a precise disregard of your words as she often does. She peers down on you, that damnable, infuriating smirk across her features as she practically undresses you with her gluttonous glare alone. You repress the reflex to shudder. 

“Is that so? Not even one dance, darling?”

“No.” You attempt to wring your hand from hers, but then her fingers fixedly but gently wrap around your wrist. She guides your hand to her chest as if she’s safeguarding it from you. 

Through gritted teeth, you enouciate her name, like scolding a disobedient pet. “Arlecchino.”

“What wife doesn’t have time to dance with her husband?” Arlecchino replies back, her voice raising in volume, a faux disbelief present in her voice, her expression imitating likewise as well–widened eyes, raised eyebrows, and a pity-garnering frown. It’s far from the first time she’s done this, act as if she had any human emotions beyond lust, but there’s yet been a time you fell for it, even when she does look like a kicked puppy.  

“This wife.” 

Your butler leans down until her lips brushes against your ear, a lazy, alluring drawl graces your ears. Her other hand seizes your chin, turning it away from her direction and steering it towards the few bystanders watching the two of you’s interaction. You could feckly hear their snobbish remarks, the way their eyes usher away from yours and they lean towards the other, a hand covering their mouths. “Careful. We have an audience. We wouldn’t want to draw attention to us, would we?” 

Her and her diabolical tricks. 

“Fine,” you submit begrugingly, seething anger barely contained in your voice. An amused and smug titter spews from the demon, and it takes a considerable amount of restraint to not deck her across her face; she’d relish in it anyways. 

“Do you mind if I take the lead, my love?” She asks you in a sickeningly, sweet tone like a doting partner would. Your stomach churns, but you can’t discern if it’s in an discomforting way or not, but you could physically feel some of your ire dissipate, humbly tamed by a simple pet name. You detest the wonder if your will was always this frail. What was it this time that broke through your stubborn front of vexation? You’ve been kidnapped, beatened, tortured before, but this was where you fell? Unfathomable. My love, she repeats again, and it rings through your ears, almost deafening every other sound that surrounds you, rendering you powerless. 

Arlecchino places your free hand on top of her shoulder while hers position itself on your side. The hand that is still clasped with yours extends outwards, assuming the waltz position. Abruptly, you’re acutely aware of how clammy your hands are underneath your gloves and you utterly despise the quickening of your heartbeat that drums throughout your entire body; still, you couldn’t muster the courage to look away from the reassuring smile–free of its previous pomposity and ridicule–she sends you. For the briefest period of time, you think that instead of a demon, in place of it is an angel from how ethereal she appears. But you quickly shake your head ridding of that thought as soon as it came. 

Stupid racing of your heart, making you see things that aren’t there. 

She moves slow at first, as if to examine where your experience lies, gradually increasing her pace with each minute. It’s awkward at first, but once she finds a suitable speed, the two of you smoothly glide over the floor. You match her every step with poise and fluidity, and when it’s clear you’ve accustomed to her rhythm, she raises her left arm while dropping your right, twirling you around. In this moment, everything else disappears, the only thing that is of relevance to you is her, your bodies in sync as your eyes lock. With each sway, you wonder if your heartrates are also synchronized–in this breath of time, does her heart races for you like yours does? The unwavering gaze of hers resides on you, and you can’t do no more but reciprocate her attention. You dubiously think that in her eyes, there’s a fondness to them, and oh, how it melts you. How it eases your soul and lightens your steps. How you carefully regard every feature, admiring the lack of blemishes over her skin and the softness of her facial traits; but maybe those observations were made from your own bias.

There’s a silence between the two of you that you find solace in–almost anyone would call it intimate. Outside of you and Arlecchino, the world would think of the two of you as husband and wife truly, and it’s like you’re the only one that knows the truth. You bite your lip harshly, dragging back your imaginative consciousness back to reality. When trying to enact revenge, foolishness and naivety have no place here; your goal is the only thing that dictates your life now. 

That’s right. You have no time or need to fool around with a demon, no matter how charming she is. 

“I wasn’t aware you knew how to dance.” You make small talk, if only to break the growing intimacy between servant and master, attempting to dismiss the way your nerves singe from the warmth she exudes and how loud that beating organ in your chest thumps. 

“Yes, serving a multitude of masters over hundreds of years has allowed me to cultivate an innumerable amount of skills and experience–dancing included. of course,” Arlecchino replies as she spins you, following a dip immediately afterward. As you’re lowered until a feet or two above the floor with only her arms supporting your weight, she leans her head further down, inches away from your face, her breath skimming against your nose. The sudden action has you breathless, heaving for the air she effortlessly stole from your lungs. Her eyes lock with yours for a short while, her expression slack as if she’s in awe, before her lips curl into a smile. 

“You should be underneath me more often,” she has the audacity to comment in that husky, amorous voice, both a stinging annoyance and blossoming fluster bubble inside you. Before you can berate her, ‘your husband’ raises you until both of your feet are flat on the ground and she resumes the standard waltz stance, the two of you sashaying across the floor. 

Nonchalantly, she resumes her answer previously, as if to overlook her brash remark; you know it’s only to further fluster and tease you, that fucking demon. “Waltz is, admittedly, one of my favorite types of dancing. The intimacy it creates between the partners is thrilling. I’ve had much experience with it.” 

And suddenly that placid campfire stoking in your chest ignites into an inferno, like being possessed by something sinister; the previous levity that coats your person is stripped away, replaced with a heavy and overbearing covering that makes you too aware of her speech and her expression, keen in deciphering her thoughts behind that front. She’s… reminiscing? There should be no logical reason it acutely agitates you, but that faraway look–it infuriates you. It’s a sensation that was similar to what brought on about that abrupt and inexplicable fit of irrationality during the ball, when you marked Arlecchino’s neck. You’ve opted to not ruminate over that occurrence after the event but as you feel the same beast’s claws grip your form, it’s with a grim realization that you discover unsightly jealousy. 

It spews out before you can stop it. “And how many people have you danced with like this?” 

Arlecchino’s smile freezes in time, her eyes flicking over your slight scowl, brows lifting bemusedly. Then, her lips curl further upwards marginally. “Quite a few has come before you, my Lady.”  

Is she purposely trying to aggravate you? 

Deciding to avoid another incident like at the ball, you bite your tongue in an attempt to repress anymore thoughtless utterances; you refuse to let her win in this little game she’s trying to play. Fanning the flames inside you won’t mean that you’ll combust. You bitterly question what you thought would come from a demon. Expectedly, nothing genuine. Becoming lost in your thoughts, your eyes wander away from her face, absentmindedly observing the gazes of other observers, watching the two of you sway. You’re broken out of your trance when your butler’s voice cuts through your thoughts. 

“Something more interesting than ‘your husband?’” 

You recover from the shock quickly, glancing back at her. “And if there was?” 

“Then I would be saddened. Perhaps I haven’t captured your attention enough?” 

You choose not to respond, unsure of what to say and what it would lead to. The song in the background comes to a close, and she ends the dance with one more dip. Once the song ends, you immediately wrench out your hands from her grasp. 

“Satisfied yet? You got your dance,” you sigh, inwardly disgusted with how uncomfortable your gloves feel now with all of the sweat built up. Settling your palm onyour chest, you can feel the faint thumping underneath, still pumping rapidly. Through deep breaths, you try to calm it, turning away from Arlecchino.

“Very. You were an excellent partner,” your ‘husband’ says from behind.

Some part of you asks how many times she’s said that before. 

You huff. “Great, now can we do what we came here for?” 

“As you wish, my lovely wife.” 

Stupid demon husband. 

—

Sneaking around the venue has yet garner much success. Currently, you’re searching for the location of Tartuffe’s meeting with his other associates, but no luck. His goons are watching over the hallways; a clear signifier that he doesn’t want others to be probing about where they shouldn’t be. 

“Arlecchino,” you whisper once you’ve found yourself in a secluded hallway, making sure that no one is around. The demon appears. 

“Have you found them yet?”

“No, I’ve yet to find them. Even with my hearing, it appears that they’re not here.” 

“How good is your hearing?” 

“They’re quite sensitive, I can hear so much as a whisper through walls.”

“How thick can those walls be?”

“It’s dependent on the material. Though these types of walls should not prove to be difficult for me.” 

“Hm… it’s less likely that they would move to another place altogether, there’d be no reason to all come here if that was the case. So there’s a high chance they’re still here… Arlecchino, on the blueprints was there any stairwells?” 

The demon closes her eyes momentarily, attempting to recall. “Yes, it would be on the opposite side of the building. Though, when I was exploring that section, there was no apparent stairwell.” 

“That may be where they are. We should–”

Before you can continue, you hear a thudding reverberate through the hallway, the sound growing louder with each second passing by. If you’re spotted here, it’s likely you’ll be expelled out of the event for trespassing and looking around. Your heart pounds rapidly as you try to conceive the notion of another failure towards your goal; no, you cannot let it end here. The footsteps approach closer. Your hands scramble for the doorknob behind you, twisting it to see if it’ll allow you inside and serve as a covert. However, it doesn’t budge, no matter how many times you try. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you curse underneath your breath when you realize the door is expectedly locked. Is there any way you for the two of you not to get caught. Arlecchino may be a demon, she has teleportation powers, but those powers mean nothing to you when she can’t transport you. You could order her to disappear and allow yourself to be thrown out; she’ll probably be able to find out how to let you back in, but again, that carries risk and you may not have enough time for that, especially when the distance makes coordination difficult for that type of plan and you don’t know how long that meeting will last if it’s started half an hour ago, wait, the footsteps are just about there, rounding the corner, think hard, faster, think, think, thinking fucking dumbass–

A firm, chilling hand places itself on your shoulder, whipping you around before pressing you harshly against the wooden door, making you groan from the immediate impact. Arlecchino’s body towers over you, her pupils gleaming so radiantly that they’re visible through the contact lenses that she’s wearing; her expression is still and emotionless, only adding to the chilling emanation from her. One of her arms is placed beside your hand, and she leans forward against the door. Her other hand hooks underneath your chin, and tilt your face up, viewing her face. The only information that your mind could process at this instance is just how little distance there is between the two of you, and that is enough to send your pulse soaring. The panic of your impending exposure futiley against the thoughts that suddenly revolve around your butler, your husband, who draw nearer. You should push her away and demand what she’s doing, but her speed surpasses that of human capabilities, far too swift for you to even occupy that consideration, and you give up the fruitless struggle in the next moment. 

“Forgive me, my Lady,” she whispers huskily, just a hairsbreadth away from your own and she descends upon you. 

Arlecchino’s cold lips find yours, prying away your oxygen effortlessly with each claim of your mouth. Reality melts away at her touch–she overwhelms all of your senses, you’re mindless except for the flavor and texture of her–as she presses against you even more. She tastes chilling and metallic, like steel; yet soft and welcoming as a pillow; you can’t imagine anything more from your demon, and it certainly doesn’t prevent you from leaning further. She’s nothing and exactly like how you would think she’d be like, and it absolutely thrills you. Heart palpitating, every nerve hums underneath each inch of skin, and oh, how absurdly hot you feel despite her cold lips. Closing your eyes, your hands raise up to her face, cupping both sides and tugging her impossibly closer. A soft grunt escapes from her and her fingers below your chin leave in favor of lagging down below, over your dress before it finds the thigh-high slit and slides underneath. 

“Arlecchino,” you gasp out as her gloved fingers trail up your bare thigh, and she quickly swallows the whisper of her name. Continuing up, they travel innerwards, and your body involuntarily bucks in her direction. You’re filled with only the incessant need for her, more of her touch, more of her taste, more of her everything; you bite her lip, requesting–no, demanding–for entrance, and like the obedient servant she is, she allows entry. Just as she has claimed your lips, you decide replicate it back, exploring every crevice of her mouth with your tongue. You’re further fueled by the throaty moan she emanates, the pit of your stomach fluttering. 

“Say my name again,” she begs out in the sweetest, most yearning voice that’s ever graced your ears, and with that kind of plea, who are you to deny her? 

“Arlecchino,” you whisper out, and then again, and again, like a chant. You pull the slightest bit away just to catch your breath, before leaning back in, but that is when Arlecchino leans away, backing away fully from your lips to your dismay. Her touch on your leg leaves.The sudden break snaps you out of your lust-filled daze, and you look at her like a betrayed lover. Noticing that her eyes are directed somewhere else, you follow them. 

Two men stand by the side of you, evidently discomfortable if the way they’re refusing to make eye contact signifies anything. You rack your head around for a second, before remembering they’re among the security personnel. Still recovering from the intimate engagement you just had with your butler, you heave for breath, attempting to say something to them, but Arlecchino does so first. 

“Is there something you’d like to say to me and my wife about?” Your ‘husband’ gruffs, frigid fury coating her words. 

One of the men cleared his throat before replying awkwardly with, “Um, we’re sorry to have… interrupted you, but guests are not supposed to be in these parts.” 

Arlecchino lets out a faux scoff, and her hand reache for mine, clasping it tight. “Fine. Then let us be on our way back,” she states, turning away from them and wordlessly walking away, leading you along with her. Once the two of you are out of the two men’s sight, you stop her in her tracks. 

“Was that necessary?” You inquire, a bit of indignation in your tone. Because how could she just do that without your permission, without your order? The two of you have just breached a line you promised yourself you wouldn’t cross, and here you were, like a fucking liar. This shouldn’t have happened. 

“We needed a way that would make us not look conspicuous, didn’t we? I thought if we… played up to our roles, they would think that we were just… having a rendezvous.” 

You sigh. It worked as Arlecchino has intended at least. Yet, you can’t help but question if that was all to why she did it. 

Your lips still tingle, her taste still lingers. 

“Fine, I won’t reprimand you for that. But know if you do something like that again, there will be consequences,” you warn her harshly. “Now, let’s go, we still have to proceed with our plan.”

— 

That night was successful, thankfully. You had managed to get all the evidence you needed, and formulate a list of who exactly is working with that damn philanthropist. After you arrived home, you immediately sent Arlecchino out, changed, and retired to bed. But as you lay underneath the covers, you couldn’t help but wish that it was her arms wrapped around you instead of these blankets. And yet you never call for her. It is the same reason why you never mentioned about the kiss to her again. 

Ah, you want to taste her again. Drink her in once more, discover more sounds of her.

Your fingers fiddle with the ring that Arlecchino slipped onto your finger earlier that night. It fits your finger just right. 

Husband and wife? What a funny thought. 

That night, when your eyelids are finally too heavy for you to lift, you dream of eyes with crosses as pupils and blackened hands, chilly to the touch.  

A/N: First canonical kiss. Whoooooo. Only took these bitches 12.4k words for them to kiss. Anyways, I'm going to pass the fuck out now.

[brbsoulnomming]

WHERE NOBODY KNOWS YOUR NAME

For: @sharpbutsoft

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 14.9k

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, mention of alcohol and financial exploitation of child stars

Tags: Famous Steve Harrington, Bartender Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Snapshots

Summary: A drop dead gorgeous man walks into The Hideout one night while Eddie's bartending, and Eddie's absolutely determined to flirt with him. What follows is snapshots of the two of them growing closer and closer, all while Eddie's absolutely oblivious to the fact that Steve's secretly one half of the famous pop duo Scoops Troop.

This fic is a part of the @steddieholidayexchange

-----

The prettiest man that Eddie has ever seen walks through the door of the Hideout, and Eddie damn near drops the glass he was rinsing out. It's not like their town's small enough that Eddie could actually recognize everyone in it, and the Hideout gets enough business that Eddie doesn't know everyone who comes in, but still, he was not expecting to get hit in the face with that kind of handsome on his shift tonight.

Sure, the nearby resort is a particular favorite among the wealthy elite - Eddie even heard there was one douchebag pop singer who booked the entire place for two weeks in the spring, apparently just so he wouldn't have to associate with any other guests - but they usually stay on the resort. It's rare for any of them to venture out into the town itself.

Pretty boy is wearing a dark blue polo with Hawkins Hope in Action stitched in yellow across his shirt pocket, which Eddie definitely does not notice purely because he's admiring the way it stretches across his chest. He takes an empty seat at the bar, pushing one hand through his hair as he scans the chalkboard specials they've got on display.

"You think it's as soft as it looks?" Chrissy asks, nudging him with her hip as she joins him in absolutely not just staring at the guy from the backroom.

He huffs out a little laugh. "I think you've got a better chance at me than figuring that out, Chris."

Still, he's fully prepared to head out there and try on at least a little bit of charm, until Jeff comes up next to them.

"I think Chrissy should head out there for a while," he says.

Eddie turns to fix him with a betrayed look. "What? Come on, man, I said Chrissy had a better chance, not that I had no chance."

Jeff nods towards the guy. "Look at him, he's all on edge."

And it's true - the guy's perched on the bar stool like he expects to have to bolt at any minute, and he's started to hunch in on himself like he's trying to take up as little space as possible.

It's kind of sad, actually, which unfortunately doesn't make him any less cute.

"So?" Eddie asks.

"So you know I love you, man, but you can be kind of a lot," Jeff says apologetically.

Eddie gasps, whirling to face Chrissy. "Can you believe this?"

Her nose is a little crinkled, lips turned down the way she does when there's a hard truth she doesn't want to tell him. "You're not always the most soothing presence," she admits.

He lurches back dramatically, hand over his heart. "Complete and utter betrayal, from my own best friends no less."

Jeff pats him on the shoulder. "You'll get over it."

"You can talk to him next time," Chrissy offers.

Which, considering pretty boy is probably staying at the resort and not going to come back, is small consolation.

But, well. He's probably staying at the resort and not coming back, so Eddie guesses he really isn't losing out on much by not getting to talk to him.

At least he can enjoy the eye candy.

He keeps an eye on them at first, only partially because of said eye candy - Chrissy can handle herself, but if the guy is going to be the typical resort douche, Eddie won't hesitate to come back her up. Pretty boy starts to relax a little the longer he's there, though, and Chrissy's doing the genuine smile she does when she has a good customer, so he doesn't worry about it.

By the time the guy leaves, Eddie's heard the sound of them laughing a few times.

"His laugh is just as pretty as the rest of him," Eddie sighs to Chrissy as they watch him leave.

"His name is Steve," Chrissy replies. "He works for that charity that's booked the resort this weekend for a fundraising event."

"That explains what he was doing here," Eddie jokes. "I knew we wouldn't see a resort guest slumming it at the Hideout."

Chrissy rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't disagree. "They work with kids in the foster care system," she says mildly. "They put on camps and events and things for the kids to come to, do fundraising to get money to support them. He spends most of his time with the kids.”

Eddie groans. “No, come on, that's not fair,” he whines. “Handsome and a pretty laugh and he works for a charity and it's for foster kids and he's likes spending time with them? He's gotta have some flaws. Maybe he's actually terrible with kids, maybe they all hate him.”

Chrissy giggles. “Maybe he leaves his wet towels all over the floor.”

Eddie nods. “Maybe he sings off key in the shower and it's awful and he won't stop.”

Chrissy gives him a little shove. “Well, Steve says they've booked the resort for a few camps and events throughout the rest of the year, so you'll have plenty of time to find out.”

“If he comes back,” Eddie points out.

“Oh, I have a feeling he'll come back,” she replies.

—

Steve comes back.

It's just him behind the bar tonight, with Gareth and Grant back in the kitchen, so Eddie spends a moment quietly collecting himself before he heads over.

Eddie shoots him a smile. "Hi."

"Hey," Steve returns, smiling at him in return - though it seems practiced, nothing like the soft, warm smile Eddie'd seen him give Chrissy when he left the other night.

Ouch.

"Chrissy's not working tonight," Eddie says, trying not to let his disappointment show.

Steve's face scrunches in confusion, a little furrow between his brow that Eddie has the immediate urge to reach out to try to smooth with his thumb.

What is wrong with him? He's usually way better at not letting customers get under his skin.

"Thanks for telling me?" Steve says, the end of the sentence raised up in a question like he's not quite sure he's giving the correct response.

"Just thought I'd let you know, in case you came back in hoping to see her again," Eddie says.

Steve's expression smooths out. "Oh. Nah, I just really liked the… atmosphere…"

He trails off, clearly aware of how what he's saying sounds, but Eddie makes a point of scanning around the bar anyway - it isn't empty, but it's not exactly crowded, either, occupied mostly by small groups who stick to themselves or solo patrons who are more interested in their drinks than engaging in conversation with other customers.

No one's paying the slightest bit of attention to them.

He cocks an eyebrow as he looks back at Steve, and now the smile he gets is a little less practiced, a little more genuinely pleased - maybe even a little teasing.

"Exactly," Steve agrees. "What's not to like about a place where nobody knows your name?

Eddie barks out a little laugh. "Not nobody," he returns. "It's Steve, right? I'm Eddie. What can I get you?"

He calls Steve's order of onion rings back to Gareth, then grabs a glass to get his beer.

"So, Chrissy said you work with the charity that rented out the resort?" he asks. "What do you do for them?"

Steve lights up a little at the question, which, unfortunately, makes him even prettier.

"I'm the activities director," Steve replies.

Eddie raises his eyebrows as he sets Steve's beer in front of him, inviting him to continue.

“I plan all the stuff for the kids to do at camp,” Steve clarifies.

His eyebrows go even higher. “That sounds exhausting.”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “Sometimes,” he admits. “But I don't, like, personally do all of them. Some of the other staff will take lead on things that interest them - like Nancy does journalism and writing workshops, and Lucas picked up basketball, Jon does photography, and Robin's doing film watching and analysis. We actually do a lot of partnerships, too, get people to come in and do guest spots leading activities for like a week.”

Right, Eddie's pretty sure he heard that Hawkins Hope was a celebrity sponsored charity. Makes sense why they're able to afford using the resort for things.

“So what do you take lead on, then?” Eddie asks, mentally hi-fiving himself for finding an effortless way to ask Steve about his interests.

He's pretty sure it doesn't go unnoticed, because Steve blinks at him for a moment before he gives him just a little bit of a smirk.

It's a good look on him, though, so Eddie doesn't mind one bit.

“Swimming,” Steve replies. “Mostly lifeguarding, if we're somewhere on the water, and I do lessons. Baseball in the summer. Ice skating in the winter. Music, sometimes. Cooking. I'll pretty much fill in whenever I need to.”

Eddie's not surprised that the majority of those were sports, but it does mean he flounders a little bit in the next step of his plan - find a common interest and get his flirt on. He's a decent enough cook, but it's not exactly something he does for fun. Which means he's got one option left, and he latches onto it eagerly.

“What kind of music?” he asks.

Steve watches him for a moment, like he's waiting for the punchline. Or waiting to be judged, maybe - maybe the guy only likes Top 40s and is used to being looked down on from guys wearing Dio t-shirts.

And all right, Eddie might judge him a little - but only teasingly, and only if he knew him better. So he just waits, hoping he looks as genuine as he means to.

“I'm not picky,” Steve says finally. “I can find the merit in just about anything. It's not about the genre to me - it's about how the song makes you feel, if you can connect with the lyrics or if the music stirs some kind of emotion in you that you didn't even know was there.”

Oh.

“I get that,” Eddie says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “Like - it's not what I usually listen to, and it's not what people expect, but my mom loved Bluegrass and country. I hear it now and it makes me think of her. I still end up singing Hazel Dickens or Loretta Lynn when I clean the kitchen, makes me feel like she's there with me.”

And there's that soft, warm smile that Eddie'd briefly seen him give Chrissy - only now it's even worse because it's directed at him, and it keeps lingering.

“Yeah,” Steve says again, but this time it sounds like you really do get it.

“So, it, uh, sounds like you like what you do,” Eddie says.

“I love what I do,” Steve agrees. “What about you?”

Eddie shrugs. “Can't complain. I get a lot of freedom here, actually. I'm the one that comes up with most of the drinks on our specials list.”

That's usually the most he goes into it, but Steve's still looking at him, so much less closed off than he was when he first came in, and he leans in like he's interested.

So when Steve asks him to tell him more about it, Eddie does. How it's not what he thought he'd be doing after high school, but then, he hadn't really given a lot of thought to much of anything after high school while he was still there, too busy just trying to graduate. How he likes the people he works with and the Hideout itself, how much fun it is coming up with his own drinks, how he's gotten to the point where he can figure out the best drink for someone before they even know what it is themselves.

And all right, he'd maybe been bragging a little, maybe said that with just a little bit of a cocky smirk to see the reaction he gets, but he's still a little bit surprised when Steve picks up on it and gives it back.

“Yeah?” Steve asks. “Do me, then.”

Eddie smiles at him, pleased. “What's the first cocktail you order when you go somewhere new?”

“House special,” Steve replies immediately, shooting him a little smirk.

Eddie gives him a look.

“It's true!” Steve insists. “I can get an old fashioned or a margarita anywhere, but the house special is usually something unique.”

Eddie considers that. “What's your go to drink if you're making yourself something at home?”

“Lemon drop,” Steve says. “They're my best friend's favorite, I learned how to make them for her. It's the only drink I can pull off that isn't just popping a can of beer or pouring a glass of wine.”

Eddie hums. He already knows Steve's taste in beers, so - “Red or white wine?”

“White in the summer, red in the winter,” Steve replies.

“Whiskey or tequila?”

“Whiskey.”

“Apple cider or hot chocolate?”

“Apple cider.”

Eddie manages to fire off questions like that for a while, and Steve even plays along when he asks him something that clearly has little to do with his drink preferences - though Eddie is absolutely ready to spin a tale about how it's vital to know if someone is a summer or a winter person for flavor choices, and being a romance or a horror fan will tell him how adventurous they are if Steve questions it.

Steve doesn't call him on it, though he does raise one eyebrow and give him a little smirk at each one, which leads to Eddie dropping into his explanation, anyway.

He wants someone to appreciate his brilliance.

It makes Steve laugh, warm and a little surprised, like he hadn't been expecting it. “Does that excuse work?”

“I don't know,” Eddie admits. “I haven't tried it on anyone else. What do you think?”

Steve hums, eying Eddie up and down in a way that, ridiculously, makes Eddie want to hide behind his hair.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I could see it working. Depends on how good your drink ends up being.”

That gets Eddie back on more confident ground, and he points dramatically at him. “Prepare to be wowed.”

Steve's an autumn person who likes apple cider, whiskey, and action films, so Eddie makes him a spin on a whiskey highball with ginger ale, apple juice, and cinnamon simple syrup.

Steve takes one sip and immediately looks delighted. It's far from the first time that Eddie's gotten that reaction, but coming from Steve, well.

Eddie doesn't want to say that it makes his whole week, but it kind of makes his whole week.

“This is amazing,” Steve says. “You do this all the time?”

“Eh, just when I feel like showing off,” Eddie finds himself saying, which is true but is definitely not what he wanted to admit to.

Steve's finally looking reasonably relaxed, though, so he can't bring himself to regret it.

“I hope you know you've set yourself up for having to do this every time I come in,” Steve tells him.

Eddie grins. “I'm holding you to that. Better not see you getting drinks from one of the other bartenders here,” he teases.

He's joking - really, he is - but when Steve laughs and agrees, well.

Okay, maybe he kind of means it.

—

It's Eddie's day off, but he's at the Hideout anyway.

He'd feel more pathetic about that if it weren't for the fact that it's Jeff and Gareth's night off, too, and they're also at the Hideout.

It's a slower night, so they're just sitting at the bar drinking beer and heckling Grant while the regulars ignore them and their antics. Or, well, he and Gareth are heckling Grant - Jeff is shifting back and forth between taking their side and taking Grant's, claiming neutrality with a gleam in his eyes that says he knows exactly what he's doing.

Even though he's not working, Eddie still looks up on instinct when the door opens - and then grins when he recognizes Steve.

He flings himself around the other side of the bar, ignoring Jeff and Gareth's surprised exclamations, and very heroically manages to not immediately wave Steve over. He plans to wait until Steve's come to sit at the far corner of the bar, then slide on up to him, but - Steve sees him and immediately makes a beeline to grab a seat in front of him.

Oh.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve greets with a smile.

“Hey, Steve, what can I get you?” Eddie asks.

“I don't know.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him, expression almost playful. “You're the expert, right? What can you get me?”

“What is happening right now?” Gareth asks, immediately squashing the little thrill Eddie'd gotten at Steve's words.

“What's happening right now is that I'm trying to serve an actual paying customer, so why don't you two go find a table to sit at and shoo,” Eddie grumbles at him.

“Come on, Gar, let's quit bothering Eddie,” Jeff says, pushing away from the bar and tugging Gareth with him.

Fuck, Jeff is Eddie's favorite forever, he's going to owe him -

“Eddie's apparently decided to throw in a little free labor for us tonight,” Jeff calls back as they saunter off towards an open table.

Never mind, Eddie hates him.

Steve's brow furrows, and he looks up at Eddie expectantly.

“It's my night off,” Eddie admits.

“Eddie!” Steve chides.

“It's just one drink,” Eddie protests.

Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Uh-huh. What if I wanted more than one drink, were you going to hang out here all night?”

“Maybe,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve laughs at him, but it's soft and - well. It might just be Eddie's wishful thinking, but it sounds almost fond. “Go hang out with your friends. You can get me next time.”

Eddie sulks for a moment - like they're friends, like Steve is scolding him over a stupid decision and Eddie's whining at him about how it totally makes sense, really.

Wait.

“Come sit at the table with us,” Eddie says. “I can give you recommendations on what to order.”

Steve hesitates. “Your friends won't mind?”

“Nah. They love heckling me, so I'm sure they'll get a kick out of it. Come on, it'll be fun.”

Despite his words, Eddie's actually a little nervous that Steve won't get along with Jeff and Gareth, or that the tense, rigid way Steve had held himself when he first came to the bar will come back, but by the time Steve's two drinks in, he's folded almost seamlessly in with the three of them.

Jeff and Steve like the same baseball team, apparently, and he gets Gareth talking about ice skating in a way that makes him light up - a way that might make Eddie a little jealous, if Steve didn't keep catching Eddie's eyes and smiling at him.

Steve even gets a couple of their Lord of the Rings jokes, though he admits he hasn't read the books himself, just picked up on some things from the kids he used to babysit. The way he talks about this Dustin kid makes him sound more like a little brother than anything else, and it's really sweet.

Shit, he's probably not terrible with the kids. Maybe Eddie better hold out hope for the wet towels or the terrible shower singing.

It's probably pretty damn late when Eddie hears the door open, and glances over. The man walking in is unfamiliar, but he's looking around the bar with a sense of purpose that makes Eddie grimace.

“We're all up to date on our liquor license and everything, right?” Eddie asks in a low voice.

Jeff frowns at him. “Of course. Why?”

“Check your ten o'clock,” Eddie says, purposefully adding in a little flair like he's a spy operative keeping an eye out for the enemy. “He's just screaming off duty cop.”

Both Jeff and Gareth crane their heads to look, leaving Eddie to sigh internally, but Steve plays along, tipping his head in towards Eddie like they're sharing a moment.

Steve's face is so close to his that he can feel the soft puff of air on his cheek when he breathes out, can see the whites of his eyes as his gaze flicks towards the door. Then he grins, and Eddie can see the way it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Fuck, Eddie should be ridiculous around Steve more often.

“Retired cop, maybe,” Steve replies. “He's here for me. I, uh. I must have missed my curfew.”

Eddie looks back over at the guy, who must have spotted Steve, because he's making his way towards them.

“You still have a curfew?” Eddie teases.

“Shut up,” Steve says, but his smile hasn't faded.

“No, it's cute,” Eddie says. And honestly - it is. “Your dad is your ride when you've had a few too many to drink?”

Steve's eyes darken briefly. “My dad's an asshole,” he mutters, something cracked and bitter in his tone that Eddie's pretty sure wouldn't be there if Steve was entirely sober. “He wouldn't be caught anywhere near somewhere like this, or me in general.”

Well, shit, leave it to Eddie to open his mouth and accidentally step in it.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bumping his shoulder against Steve's. “Mine, too. Fuck ‘em, right? We're better off without them.”

“Better off without who?” Retired Cop asks as he stops in front of their table.

“Our terrible, horrible, no good, very bad fathers,” Eddie replies immediately, shooting Retired Cop what he hopes is a very charming grin.

It must be, considering Steve is back to smiling, and now he's looking at Eddie all soft and pleased.

Retired Cop grunts in what Eddie is going to optimistically assume is agreement.

“Hey, Hopper,” Steve greets. “This is Eddie, Jeff, and Gareth. Hopper's the head of security for Hawkins Heroes.”

“Among other things,” Hopper comments drily.

Eddie's going to guess those other things include picking up wayward activity directors when they stay out too late.

Steve looks a little abashed. “Sorry, lost track of time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper grumbles. “Get your shit and let's get going.”

“Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys,” Steve tells them.

“You kidding?” Jeff asks. “It was great, man.”

“Come back any time,” Gareth agrees.

“I'll have a new drink ready for you,” Eddie promises.

Somewhat foolishly, considering he knows that Jeff and Gareth are going to tease him about that, but the smile he gets flashed at him is well worth it.

“I still gotta settle the tab,” he hears Steve tell Hopper as they head out, but he's too distracted by Jeff and Gareth's smirks to think anything of it.

“Not a word,” Eddie threatens before either of them can say anything.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Gareth replies, batting his eyelashes at him instead of saying anything.

“Just let me know when you have the drink ready,” Jeff agrees mildly. “We can call it Steve's Special.”

Gareth and Jeff fistbump each other while Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves himself up out of his chair.

He ignores their laughter as he heads over April, who's behind the register at the moment.

“What's my damage for the night?” he asks.

“Your friend already paid,” she tells him.

“Okay?” He frowns at her, a little too tipsy to make any kind of connection between his question and her answer. “I mean, I'm glad he didn't duck out on his tab and leave me stuck with it, but I'd still like to pay mine?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, you moron, he paid for all of you.”

Eddie gapes at her. “He what?”

April smirks at him. “Guy that good looking, and he picks up the tab for you and those two? I'd hang onto him.”

Eddie's pretty sure his cheeks are bright red. He covers it up by muttering, “Son of a bitch. I'll get him for this.”

—

Steve's already at the bar when Eddie arrives for his shift that night, which instantly makes him perk up.

His crush on the guy is probably a little bit out of control, but eh, that's future Eddie's problem. Tonight Eddie gets the pleasure of some very nice eye candy all night, on top of the security of knowing he's going to have an awesome interaction with at least one patron.

Steve's clearly been there at least a little while, since there's a half eaten plate of loaded fries and a beer in front of him, and he's chatting enthusiastically with Grant.

Well.

Maybe chatting is the wrong word for it, now that Eddie gets a closer look at them.

Steve's leaning in, one elbow braced on the bartop with his gaze focused intently on Grant, as if he was the only person in the room. He's saying something in what must be a low tone, considering Grant's leaning back in to hear him. And is that -

Yup, that's a faint pink flush to Grant's cheeks.

Eddie gapes.

"Is Steve flirting with Grant?" he hisses the moment he finds Chrissy.

Chrissy rolls her eyes. "They got into an argument about pick up lines. Grant said pick up lines are shitty and cliche and don't work, and Steve insisted it's not about them being lines, it's about delivery and intention."

"So they're… flirting to prove a point?"

Damn it, why didn't Eddie think of that?

Chrissy's smiling at him, that sweet little grin she gives him when she knows exactly what's going on in his head. "Why don't you go over there and tell Steve where you sit on the pick up line debate?"

Eddie hip checks her, but, well.

It's not a bad idea.

He does go over, if only because he wants to say hi before he actually starts working.

He hears Grant laughing as he gets closer, but it sounds a little strained.

"Hey," Steve says quietly. "I meant all of it, you know. I wouldn't have said anything I didn't think was true. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Or, uh, guy, if you swung that way."

"You're kind of making me wish I swung that way," Grant teases, but there's something sincerely appreciative in his voice that tells Eddie that they'd been talking about more than just an argument about pick up lines.

If Steve could stop being so kind to his friends, that would really help out Eddie's stupid heart.

He tells himself very firmly to absolutely not think into the fact that Steve's apparently okay with guys dating other guys.

Instead, he stalks up to the counter as Grant walks away, pointing accusingly at Steve.

“I caught you!” he informs him. “What, did you think you could hide it from me? That I wouldn't notice? You're in so much trouble.”

Eddie's not sure what he's expecting, but it isn't for Steve's expression to completely crumble. He sags in the chair for a moment, then Eddie watches him visibly pull himself together, straightening up and looking solemnly at Eddie.

“Okay,” Steve says, very quietly. “How do you want to do this?”

And that - completely deflates the wind in Eddie's sails.

“You're not like, actually in trouble, dude,” Eddie tells him. “I just can't believe you thought you could pay our tabs and we wouldn't realize it.”

Steve's brow furrows, then smooths out. “Oh!”

It's clearly a startled little realization, which immediately makes Eddie narrow his eyes.

“What did you think I was talking about?” he asks.

“I, uh. I guess I just wasn't sure what I did to upset you?”

Eddie considers that. It's possible - but Steve hadn't looked confused, he'd looked resigned. Like there was a secret that he was keeping, and he hadn't been expecting to be able to continue to keep it, and he was pretty sure Eddie knowing it wasn't going to be anything good. But what could he -

And then he remembers that he walked over in the middle of Steve flirting with another guy, and clearly implying that he was okay with guys dating other guys, and -

And the first thing that Eddie said was that he caught Steve and he was in big trouble.

Shit.

“It, uh,” Eddie starts, then stops, pausing to think about how he wants to say this. “There's a rainbow flag pinned up at the corner of the bar.”

Steve gives him a tiny smile. “I noticed,” he says softly. “It's one of the things that made me come back here.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, immediately derailed. “It was my idea to put it up. I wanted people to know the Hideout is a safe space, even if it doesn't look like it.”

“It worked,” Steve tells him. “You're a good guy, Eddie, that was a great thought.”

Eddie flushes, ducking his head for a moment before he determinedly gets this conversation back on track. “So, uh, I just wanted to make sure you knew that none of the staff here are going to hassle you no matter what way you swing. Especially not me.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment. “Especially not you?” he repeats.

Eddie swallows, then nods. “Yeah.”

Steve's quiet at first. Then, “Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie nods again, letting the moment sit for a little bit. Then he shoots him a teasing little grin, tipping his head at the beer in front of Steve. “What you're really in trouble for is getting a drink from another bartender here.”

Steve smirks at him. “Oh, that's not mine. It's Robin's.”

“Robin?” Eddie asks.

“My best friend, the one who likes lemon drops? She came with me today, said she wanted to meet the guys who got me to stay out so late,” Steve replies.

Oh!

Eddie straightens up, looking around. “Where is she? I want to meet her.”

“She was going to the bathroom, but I think she got distracted on her way back,” Steve says drily. He nods over towards where Chrissy is talking animatedly with a girl he's never seen before. “So you might have to wait a bit on that.”

Chrissy's smiling in a way he hasn't seen her do in a long time, which immediately makes him like this Robin girl.

“Guess you're stuck with me until then,” Steve adds.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, voice monotone. “However will I get over my disappointment.”

Steve laughs. “You can start by getting me a drink.”

Yeah, okay, Eddie guesses he can do that.

He's going to finish the night by making the best impression possible on Steve's best friend, though.

Even if his own best friend seems to have gotten there first.

—

It's D&D night the next time Steve shows up at the bar.

The other regulars are pretty used to it, by now, and seem content to let the D&D crews take over the back half of the bar, but Steve hasn't seen it before. He's not sure when he started thinking of Steve as a regular - can someone be a regular if he doesn't live here, even if he does seem to come in every time he's in town? - but that's beside the point.

D&D nights were Eddie's idea. He'd wanted to do something similar to what he did in high school, give them a safe place to be able to play - only this time, some place fun, where they'd be welcome as adults instead of laughed at for playing a "kid's game." Even the nights when he isn't playing or DMing, he has a lot of fun with coming up with campaign themed drinks.

It's stupid, but he's kind of nervous about what Steve thinks of it. It's not like anything's going to happen with Eddie's crush, but he enjoys it anyway, enjoys Steve's company. It's going to suck if Steve laughs at it.

Steve beelines for the corner of the bar where Eddie's at as soon as he sees him, which makes Eddie smile involuntarily, despite the clench in his stomach when he sees Steve staring intently at the group in the back.

"Is that Dungeons and Dragons?" Steve asks.

"You know D&D?" Eddie asks. His stomach is still clenching, but now it's in a very, very different way.

"Yeah," Steve replies, shooting him a little smile. "Some of my friends play it. We actually used to have it as an activity for the kids, but Mike and Will are at college and Erica had this huge project she needs to finish for school, so it's on hold now."

"Have you ever played?" Eddie asks.

"A couple of times," Steve replies. "I did, uh. The side characters? For the kids a few times. Do you play?"

"Yeah. I used to run a D&D club in high school, actually, and I started D&D night here."

"Dude, that's really cool," Steve says, so genuine that it makes Eddie want to hide behind his hair. "Oh, hey, I know it's kind of a lot to ask, but would you be interested in doing it for camp this week? Some of the kids coming have really missed it. We'd pay you for your time, of course."

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it again. "You want to pay me to DM a D&D game for summer camp?"

"Yes?" Steve says, like he's not sure why Eddie's in a little bit of disbelief here. "Only it's October now, so not summer camp anymore."

Right, because that's the unbelievable part.

"You know what? Sure. Do you want a one shot, or a short campaign?" Eddie asks.

Steve's face scrunches a bit in confusion.

"How many days do you want me there?" Eddie clarifies.

"All of them?" Steve blurts out.

Eddie's eyes widen, and Steve's ears go a little pink.

"I mean, how many can you do?" Steve asks.

Eddie considers. He could use some extra cash, and he's really missed throwing himself into D&D - he actually thinks he has the perfect campaign, one he used leading up to Halloween back in high school. A few tweaks and he thinks it'll be perfect.

"How about four days, five hour sessions each? Is that too long for the kids?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. "Nah, I've seen them spend like ten hours playing before, five should be perfect. Come by the resort around noon tomorrow and I'll have the paperwork all ready for you?"

—

There's more security at the resort than Eddie remembers there being the handful of times that he's been there before.

Makes sense, he guesses, since there's more kids than adults there now. It'd probably look bad if the resort let just anyone onto the grounds and some of the kids got kidnapped or something. And if they've got celebrities coming in to get their good PR by volunteering, too, they've probably got to be at the top of their game.

Eddie must be on the approved list, though, because once he's shown his ID and proven who he is, he's given a “guest staff” badge, a map of the resort, and a list of which amenities he's allowed to use for the next week.

Nice. Steve hadn't mentioned that, but Eddie is definitely going to take advantage of it.

He's a little early to meet Steve, so he wanders around the inside of the resort instead, taking in everything.

Eventually he stumbles onto a lounge with a roaring fire and a massive plush sofa, occupied by a teenage girl and a bunch of textbooks.

“Can I help you?” she asks, for all the world like she's a busy executive behind a fancy desk and he's already wasting her time, instead of a teenager sprawled out on a couch doing her homework.

“I'm looking for Steve,” he says.

Her eyes narrow as she sits up. “Why?” There's an edge in her voice now, something a little bit protective.

That's kind of sweet, actually.

“I'm meeting him here about a temporary gig,” Eddie says. “Hi, I'm Eddie.”

Her expression shifts from wary to downright skeptical. “You're the DM who that hairbrain thinks will do a better job than me?”

Yeah, Eddie's taking back that sweet comment.

“You must be Erica,” he says.

“That's Lady Applejack to you,” she retorts with a sniff. “You better be at the top of your game, or I will sneak behind any monster you throw my way and stab them in the back with my poison-soaked kukri. And I'll smile as I watch them die a slow, agonizing death.”

Oh, fuck, Eddie likes this kid.

He raises one eyebrow at her. “I thought you had a big project that you're supposed to be working on?”

She stares right back at him, unimpressed. “You going to rat me out if I come play?”

Eddie hams it up a little, making a big show of thinking it over. Before he can tell her that obviously, he's the last one to give any kind of quibble about playing D&D instead of doing homework, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching echoes through the lounge.

“Hey, Erica?” Steve's voice calls, sounding a little strained. “Can you keep an eye out for Eddie, tell him I'm going to be a little late? I gotta - oh. You're here!”

Steve's rounded the corner, and now Eddie can see the reason for the heavier footsteps. He's giving a piggyback ride to a kid, who looks about eleven or twelve. The kid's face is screwed up in pain, and Eddie spots a bloody, skinned knee peeking through ripped jeans.

“Hey, man,” Steve greets. “Give me a minute? I've got to get this guy to the nurse.”

“I don't want to go see Nurse Henderson,” the kid sulks. “Can't you just patch it up yourself? Max is going to tell me I should have just walked it off!”

“Probably,” Steve admits. “But she'd also want you to get looked at if you're really hurt. And Nurse Henderson is the only one who's qualified to decide that, right? Besides, didn't we already talk about not doing stupid things just for a girl?”

“Especially for a girl like Max, who's way too old for me,” the kid replies, in a tone of voice that says, yes, he's heard all of this before. “Fine, I'll go to the nurse.”

“I'll keep Eddie company,” Erica volunteers.

Steve looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“I'm just making sure his campaign is up to snuff,” she informs him.

Steve relaxes, though he still cuts his gaze over to Eddie and waits for him to nod before he takes off.

Eddie tilts his head at Erica. “How would you feel about a little extra backstory? A little party betrayal, maybe?”

Her eyes light up. “I'm listening.”

By the time Steve comes back, Eddie and Erica and hunched over character sheets, and they've got a frankly amazing tie in for Lady Applejack into his slightly tweaked campaign.

“I take it things went well?” Steve asks.

Erica stuffs her character sheets into her folder. “He'll do.”

Eddie gets the feeling that's high praise, coming from her.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Lady Applejack,” he says solemnly.

She rolls her eyes, but accepts the hug that Steve gives her, and Eddie's pretty sure he hears Steve whisper thank you.

“Come on, let's go see Joyce,” Steve says. “She's the director of Hawkins Hope, she's amazing. Then we can grab lunch after.”

“Are you bribing me with fancy resort food?” Eddie asks.

Steve grins at him. “Maybe.”

Joyce is amazing, but lunch with Steve is even better. Eddie makes a big deal of moaning over how good the food is, but really, making Steve laugh is the best part.

Yeah, Eddie's in way too deep.

—

"Eddie!" Steve greets when he comes into the Hideout a few days after the final session. He sounds a little bit breathless, and Eddie immediately smiles.

It's amazing how much having a favorite regular there improves his night, on top of the fact that he thinks he and Steve are actually friends now.

"Hey, man," he greets. "The kids all get where they're supposed to be okay?"

Steve looks at him like he did something amazing, instead of just asking a question that any decent human being would ask, but Eddie's not going to protest.

"Yeah, just the staff left now. Hey, I wanted to ask - we're doing a masquerade event on Halloween as a fundraiser. I mean, the event itself is going to be kind of shitty, catering to a bunch of semi famous people, but the staff are having an after party. Do you want to come?"

Eddie swallows, trying not to get his hopes up. "Me?"

"Well, yeah, you were basically staff this week, so you should come."

"Oh." Turns out it didn't work, not getting his hopes up, and now he's fighting disappointment.

Steve must take that for reluctance, though, because he adds, "Chrissy and Jeff and Grant and Gareth are all welcome too, so you don't have to worry about not knowing anyone there? Unless you guys already had plans."

"Nah, I think we were just going to hang out and watch shitty horror movies, I'm sure they'd rather go to an after party at the resort," Eddie says.

It sounds like a much better night than anything they had planned, even if it isn't what he thought Steve might be asking.

"Good! Uh, that's good." Steve looks uncertain for a moment, like he's having a debate with himself. Whatever it is, he must come to a decision, because he leans over the counter a little. "What about you?"

…okay, maybe he's not completely out of luck here.

"Me?" Eddie asks again, but this time he keeps his gaze locked on Steve's.

"You," Steve says again. "I was really hoping you'd come, Eds."

"Yeah? What do I get if I go?"

Steve smiles at him, this soft little hopeful thing, and his eyes drop briefly down to Eddie's lips. "I got a few things in mind."

Oh fuck, this is happening.

"Well now you've got me intrigued. I guess I better make an appearance."

Steve's expression lights up. “See you at the resort at ten?”

—

There's even more security when Eddie arrives at the resort on Halloween. He isn't driving - he's pretty sure there's going to be free alcohol tonight, and he's planning on taking full advantage of it - but the cab he and the others took gets stopped three times by security guards, and each time they have to show their IDs.

“Who the hell is going to the stupid masquerade?” Eddie grumbles after they finally get dropped off at a side entrance to the resort.

“Celebrities,” Gareth says with a roll of his eyes.

There's still a small crowd of people exiting the resort through the main entrance a little bit away, and despite the grumbling and eye rolling, none of them can help craning their heads just a little, to see if there's anyone they recognize.

There isn't - looks mostly like people with press badges and cameras.

There's a little bit of a commotion, though, and that makes them pause, just for a moment.

“He owes us!” someone is shouting. “One song for the bronze tier donors, that's it? What does Alistair think he's trying to pull?”

“Oh, wow,” Chrissy says. “I mean, I knew Alistair was the celebrity endorser for the charity, but I didn't think he'd be here tonight.”

Eddie shrugs. “Steve said it was for the semi famous.”

“Alistair and Hawk are a little more than semi famous,” Jeff points out.

There's more shouting at the front entrance that distracts them, though - looks like whoever it was that was complaining is getting very firmly escorted out to the parking lot by security.

“What are you losers still doing out here?” someone asks, and Eddie turns over to see Erica scowling at him from the side entrance.

He beams at her. “Lady Applejack, destroyer of Vecna, light of my life!”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Get your butts in here,” she orders, disappearing through the side entrance.

Eddie and his friends dutifully follow her, down a few hallways and into a massive ballroom that's all decorated in orange and black lights, fake cobwebs, swooping bats, and even a fog machine. There's about thirty or so people mingling about, but fortunately, she leads them to where Steve and Robin are standing together. They're both dressed in black tuxedos, but Robin has a twinkling gold halo crowned on her head and a pair of feathery wings, and Steve has a pair of devil horns. There's a cup of something bright orange in each of their hands.

Jesus, Steve looks even more gorgeous.

“Hey!” Steve greets, lighting up. “You guys made it!”

There's a round of greetings, finished by Steve pointing out the tables laden with food - some of it is clearly fancy shit that was probably left over from the masquerade, but a decent chunk of it is freshly made, mixed in with a ton of boxes of pizza and pitchers of various drinks.

“Come on,” Steve says, circling his fingers around Eddie's wrist and giving it a tug. “I want to introduce you to my friends.”

Steve leads him around the room, weaving through the small crowd and stopping whenever he finds someone. Eddie meets Jonathon Byers, Argyle, and Nancy Wheeler - Steve's ex, apparently, which throws him for a moment when he sees that they're clearly good friends.

Eddie can't imagine being friends with any of the small handful of exes he has.

Steve shrugs when he says as much. “Nancy and I are much better as friends,” he admits. “Our break up was… all right, it was pretty bad. But it was a long time coming. We just didn't work, you know? We wanted different things.”

“Not a great point in favor of you still being friends,” Eddie points out.

Steve laughs. “Nancy's amazing at what she does. She's an investigative reporter for her real job - she just volunteers here, because it's family. It's a lot easier being her friend.”

Eddie's not completely convinced, but he'll take Steve's word for it.

Nancy seems pretty great, anyway, when both of their circles of friends end up spending most of the party together. She and Robin and Chrissy keep ducking their heads together and giggling, and Jeff and Jonathon are having some kind of emphatic discussion about something Eddie doesn't really understand, and he's pretty sure Gareth and Grant and Argyle have snuck off somewhere to smoke weed.

Eddie's a little disappointed they didn't invite him, except, well, Steve's been pretty much plastered to his side the whole time, so he can't really complain.

“You want to get out of here?” Steve asks, when Eddie has definitely had too many candy corn jello shots to be effectively considering the ramifications of that question.

He agrees anyway, wholeheartedly, and hopes he doesn't come across as way, way too eager.

Steve is beaming at him, though, and he leads him out of the room.

“Let's go for a walk?” Steve suggests, which isn't quite where Eddie's mind had been going, but he can admit it's probably a better idea than anything he might have come up with.

So they grab their coats, and Steve winds a scarf around Eddie's neck even though Eddie insists it isn't that cold out.

He's pretty sure the scarf is Steve's, though - it smells like his cologne - so he doesn't actually try to stop him.

“This is definitely a date, right?” Eddie asks as they're walking along the path to the lake, their fingers laced together.

You know, just to make absolutely certain.

“Yeah, it's definitely a date,” Steve says with a little laugh.

“It's technically our fourth date,” Eddie points out.

There's a little furrow between Steve's brow as he frowns at him. “What?”

Eddie holds up his free hand so he can tick them off his fingers. “One, you bought me drinks and dinner at the Hideout.”

“I paid for Jeff and Gareth too!” Steve protests.

“Two,” Eddie says, ignoring him. “You bought me lunch at the resort.”

“We're staff, we get free lunch!” Steve says.

“Three, you invited me to go to a Halloween party with you. And four, moonlight walk by the lake,” he finishes triumphantly.

“Those are the same date!” Steve's clearly trying to sound exasperated, but he's grinning, so Eddie's calling it a win. “And the other two are like, half dates. So if you really want to, we can call this our second date.”

“Come on, sneaking away from the Halloween party to get time alone is at least worth a half date on its own.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Okay, two and a half dates.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, but he doesn't get time to crow too much about it.

Steve kisses him for the first time out by the lake, leaves rustling in the wind and the reflection of the moon hanging heavy and orange.

It's perfect.

At the end of the night, after they've been gone from the party for so long that people have had to notice - though no one says anything - Steve gives him a piece of paper with his number on it.

“You don't have to call me,” Steve tells him, like there's any chance that Eddie won't use it immediately. “But I'd like it if you did.”

Eddie steals a pen and paper from the front desk, sprawls down his own phone number and shoves it at Steve.

“Here,” he says. “So you'll know it's me when I call you as soon as I get home.”

—

Eddie expected it to be a little awkward, trying to keep up a relationship - or whatever this is, is it a relationship when they've only had two and a half dates? - via phone, but it really isn't. Steve remembers his work schedule, and he calls him every day after he gets home from work, and it -

It's almost as good as having him there. They talk about their days, about everything and nothing, and it's so fucking good it helps distract him from knowing he's not going to be able to see Steve in person again until December.

Or at least, he wasn't supposed to see him until December.

But about a week after Steve's gone, when he's hanging out with Chrissy and trying to pretend like he doesn't miss him an unreasonable amount, Eddie asks, “Who is Alistair, anyway?”

Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him. “You don't know?”

Eddie shrugs. “It hasn't come up.”

“Scoops Troop?” Chrissy asks, like that's supposed to mean something. “The pop duo?”

And yeah, all right, the name sounds vaguely familiar, but it's not anything that Eddie looks for, and he shrugs again. “I mean, sure, I've probably heard some of their songs on the radio.”

She rolls her eyes. “You're ridiculous. I have a poster of Alistair in my bedroom, it's your favorite one. You've listened to him with me, he does that cover you really like, the one you said at least he wasn't a coward who changes the gender when he covers female songs.”

Shit, okay, yeah, now Eddie knows who she's talking about. He remembers that poster - a blown up shot of the pop star wearing a pair of tight jeans with the button popped, bare chested, head tilted back so all you could see was the line of his neck and the underside of his chin. He remembers sitting with Chrissy a year or so after they graduated high school, listening to one of his albums, hearing the guy sing about how it feels to watch the man he loves kiss some other girl, remembers how the song had stuck with him.

Huh. Handsome, good singer, funds charities - maybe he should have given more of his songs a chance.

“Oh,” Eddie says.

Chrissy laughs softly. “Yeah, oh. Should I tell Steve to watch out for your crush?”

Eddie bumps his shoulders into hers. “Steve is prettier,” he says confidently. “And sweeter, and funnier, and - everything-er.”

He does know to cut himself off before he starts going into too much detail, though, and instead he flops down on his bed.

“What's his deal, then? You have a poster, you probably know some things.”

Chrissy shrugs, flopping down next to him. “He's pretty private. Teenage pop star, made it big pretty quickly, had a huge, blow up falling out with his manager and record label. Went quiet for a while, made a massive comeback with a new manager and label as part of a duo with Hawk.”

Eddie hums softly. Nothing all that interesting - or nothing out of the ordinary from things he's read about in the music industry before.

“What was the blow up about?” he asks, curious. He could go look it up himself, of course, but it's easier to ask Chrissy.

“Something about his manager and label mismanaging his earnings. There was some kind of scandal back then about exploitation of child stars, it's why you don't see Harrington Studios or Brenner Talent Acquisition around much anymore.”

Jesus.

“Wait,” Eddie says. “Harrington Studios? Like Steve Harrington?”

Chrissy frowns. “Maybe?”

“Shit, Steve did say his dad was an asshole who wouldn't want to be anywhere near him,” Eddie says. “I wonder if that's why Steve cut ties.”

“You could call him and ask him,” Chrissy says mildly. “Didn't he say he and Robin were just going to be hanging around at home the next few days?”

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “You just want to talk to Robin,” he protests, even though he's already picking up the phone.

Steve and Robin are home, and Steve sounds so happy to hear from him that Eddie almost immediately forgets everything else.

“I miss you,” Eddie says before he thinks better of it, before he wonders if maybe that's too much.

“I miss you too,” Steve says immediately, sounding a little bit relieved - like maybe he was worried it was too much, too. “I wish I could see you.”

“Hawkins isn't too far from here,” Eddie points out. “And I've got a guest room.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, his voice a little soft, a little hopeful.

“Yeah. Come stay the night, we'll get pizza and watch bad movies.”

Steve hums a little like he's considering it, but it's playful, and Eddie's pretty sure he's going to say yes. “Are we counting this as a whole date, or is this another half date?”

Eddie breaks out into a grin. “Half date,” he decides. “That'll bring us up to three, and tomorrow we can make four.”

“Deal,” Steve agrees. “See you soon.”

Steve kisses him the second he and Robin arrive, crowding him in against the wall in the narrow hallway like it's been so much longer than a week since they last saw each other.

“Hi,” Steve murmurs when they break for air.

“Hi,” Eddie replies breathlessly, smiling so wide it hurts.

They end up squished together on the couch, Steve and Robin in the middle with Eddie and Chrissy on either side of them. After the pizza's gone, and they're mid way through their second movie - Eddie glances over, sees Robin's feet tucked under Steve's thigh, Steve's hand curled loosely around her ankle, Chrissy's head pillowed on Robin's shoulder.

Which sounds like a fantastic idea, actually, and he squishes down so he can lean into Steve's chest, Steve's arm wrapped around his shoulders.

Later, after the girls have disappeared into the guest room and Steve and Eddie are getting ready for bed, Steve seems… nervous, almost, as they climb under the covers.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks.

“There's things you don't know about me,” Steve admits quietly. “Important things.”

Things like his dad owning a record label and working with a manager who exploits children, Eddie'd guess. Not a great thing for a guy who now works so closely with kids.

But Eddie trusts him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “It's okay. I mean, you don't know everything about me either, right? We're only at date three. It's okay if you want to take this slow, to get to know each other before we jump into the messy stuff.”

Steve looks like he's thinking about that. “That's okay?”

“Yeah, of course. If you want to feel each other out, keep this low commitment, even see other people, that's fine.”

It's not really fine, but now Eddie's said it, so he can't take it back.

Steve frowns at him. “I don't want to keep this low commitment,” he protests. “Eds - I'm in this. I don't want to date anyone else.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little shaky.

Steve's expression shutters a little. “Did you want to?”

“No!” Eddie replies, a little too quickly. “No, of course not. I just didn't want to pressure you. I, uh, I'm in this too.”

“Good.” Steve tips his head in to kiss him softly. “But - maybe slow is good? I haven't really had a serious relationship since Nancy and I broke up.”

“It's been a while for me, too,” Eddie admits. “…is it bad that it kind of makes me feel better? That we're both figuring this out together?”

Steve snorts. “Nah. Not bad. I kind of like the idea of figuring things out with you.”

—

“Hey, Munson!” April shouts from the office, when he's elbow deep in sudsy water doing the dishes. “You got a phone call!”

“Who is it?” Eddie yells back. He doesn't want to lose his groove if it's just a crank call, or one of his friends with something far from urgent.

“Some guy named Steve! Want me to tell him to get lost?” she asks.

“No!” Eddie yelps immediately. Then, in what he hopes is a calmer voice, “No, I'll come get it.”

He dries off his hands, passes April on the way to the office and has to put up with her smirking at him, but he pointedly ignores her.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie greets, already feeling himself smiling.

“Hey,” Steve says back. “Am I interrupting a busy shift?”

He sounds - just a little bit off. Almost like his normal self, but more like he's forcing himself to sound normal.

Eddie frowns. “Even if you were, it'd be a welcome interruption. What's up?”

“It's nothing really important,” Steve says. “I just - wanted to hear your voice, I guess.”

Oh.

Eddie lets himself feel soft and gushy over that for a moment before he leans out to shout, “April, I'm taking my lunch!” and closes the door to the office.

“Eds, you don't have to do that,” Steve protests. “I just wan-”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie cuts him off gently. “I can tell something's wrong. Taking my lunch is nothing - I'd drive to Hawkins right now to see you if you wanted.”

Eddie can Steve breathe out, a slow, ragged exhale.

“What happened?” Eddie asks.

“My dad happened,” Steve mutters.

Shit.

“Well, if anyone gets how hard it can throw you off when your shitty dad pops back up in your life, it's me,” Eddie says. “You want to talk about it?”

Steve's quiet for a moment. “I don't know why I let him still get to me,” he says after a while. “He didn't even talk directly to me. He hasn't tried to reach out since I cut him off, but he still knows exactly what to say to get under my skin, and he knows where to do it so it'll get right back to me. God, it's so stupid. I don't even care about his opinion, but…”

“But he's your dad,” Eddie finishes for him when he trails off. “Even if he's terrible, even if you don't want to be anything like him, even if you don't really want his good opinion, it's always going to matter a little.”

There's another exhale, though this one's tinged with something like relief. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks.

Steve snorts. “Just the usual shit. I'm not living up to my potential, I'm wasting my time on publicity stunts, I've lost sight of what's really important.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters. “Your dad really is an asshole.”

“Grade A,” Steve confirms.

“You sure you don't want me to drive down there?” Eddie offers.

“Nah,” Steve says, though Eddie can hear a smile in his voice. “I'm with Robin. She just went to pick up dinner, she should be back soon. Just, uh. Like I said, I wanted to hear your voice. It always makes me feel better.”

“You can't say stuff like that to me when you're not in kissing range,” Eddie teases. Mostly to cover up the way it makes his heart beat a little too fast.

“Sorry,” Steve replies, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says. “I'll still stay on the phone with you until Robin gets back. What do you want me to talk about?”

Steve hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is it too much to ask about what happened the last time your dad popped up?”

Part of Eddie wants to say that nothing Steve could ask him for would be too much, but he does the responsible thing and actually thinks about it before he answers.

“I was seventeen,” he says, once he's decided that yeah, he's okay with Steve knowing this. “I'd been living with my Uncle Wayne for almost five years. He blows back into town, claims he has something of my mom's that she'd always wanted me to get, before she got sick.”

“What was it?” Steve asks.

Eddie snorts. “Nothing. I already had everything of hers that she left behind. He didn't realize I'd already emptied out the old house after he left the last time. But he said he missed me, said he needed me. That he really wanted it to be the two of us this time, the way we always talked about when I was younger and he was teaching me things.”

Steve makes a little encouraging noise.

“Shitty things,” Eddie clarifies. “Other dads taught their kids how to fish or play ball, but mine? He taught me how to hotwire cars. Even at seventeen, he had me convinced. I wanted to believe him so bad, I went along with his idea. Ended up with him skipping town and me in a jail cell taking the fall. My uncle had to come bail me out.”

“I'm sorry, Eddie,” Steve says quietly.

Eddie shrugs, even though Steve can't see him. “It's not your fault.”

“That's not why I'm sorry,” Steve retorts, in a tone that Eddie knows means he's rolling his eyes. “I'm sorry that he couldn't see how amazing you are. You deserve better.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. “So do you,” he replies. “Fuck our dads, all right?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees empathetically. “Fuck ‘em. Who needs them when we have people who actually give a shit about us?”

Eddie wishes they were together, so he could take Steve's hand or tug him in for a hug or something, to make it clear that Eddie is one of those people who gives a shit about Steve.

“Yeah,” he settles for saying. “You can call me anytime, you know that, right?”

“I do now,” Steve says softly. “Thanks, Eds.”

Fuck.

“Any time,” Eddie managed to get out.

“You too, okay? Any time. Even if I don't answer right away, I'll always call you back.”

—

Eddie's pulling his boxes of Christmas decorations out of the storage space off of his little balcony when he notices one of the boxes is damaged.

He's not sure what happened. Water leaking, maybe, or maybe just the box giving out, but it's sagging in on itself, and when Eddie opens it he - he sees the remains of some of his oldest Christmas decorations. The ones that belonged to his mom.

Eddie stares at them for a long time, fighting back tears, and then goes inside to call his boyfriend.

“Hey, Stevie,” he says when he gets his answering machine. He doesn't even bother trying to sound like he isn't bummed. “It's not urgent, just - some of the Christmass stuff I had from my mom got wrecked. Guess I just wanted to hear your voice. Give me a call when you get this, yeah?”

There's an awkward pause that he almost fills with love you, before he hangs up real quick so he doesn't end up going there on a fucking voicemail of all things.

He doesn't really know how long it's going to be before Steve's able to call him back, and it's stupid to just wait around waiting, but… he can't actually bring himself to do the only thing he had planned today and get the Christmas decorations up.

Eddie's still dithering around hours later when the doorbell rings, and he considers ignoring it and pretending he isn't home. He's not in the mood to be any kind of good company, after all.

But then he hears Steve's voice calling his name through the door, and he's on his feet and opening it up before he knows it.

“You're here,” Eddie says, a little gobsmacked.

Steve shifts his weight, looking a little hesitant. “Is that okay? I mean, I know you said you wouldn't mind driving down to Hawkins for me if -”

Steve cuts off, because Eddie's dragged him inside the apartment and pressed him against the back of the door, doing his level best to kiss him senseless.

“It's not too much?” Steve manages to ask in between kisses.

“It's so far from too much,” Eddie returns.

Eddie's not really sure he knows what to do with someone who drove all the way here just for him, just because he was sad, but Jesus, he's not going to complain about it now.

They're both a little disheveled by the time they manage to get away from the door, and Steve gives him a tentative little smile.

“I brought you this,” Steve says, holding something out to him.

Eddie takes it, and it's - a copy of Loretta Lynn's Country Christmas. A signed copy. A signed copy specifically addressed to Eddie, wishing him a merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season.

He looks back up, gaping at Steve a little. “Steve?”

“It was supposed to be your Christmas present,” Steve says. “But I thought - maybe you could use it now.”

Jesus Christ, Eddie's pretty sure he's really close to crying. He squeezes his eyes shut, taking a ragged breath.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He sets the album down, then practically launches himself at Steve, folding him into his arms and hugging him tight. Steve lets himself be held, sinking into the embrace and hugging him back just as strong.

Eventually, when Eddie's reasonably certain he's not in danger of crying - or blurting out a love confession - Eddie pulls back.

“How long are you here for?” he asks.

Steve shrugs. “I don't have any where to be now. I finished work up early, so I've got a few days before we have to get started on winter camp and the Hawkins Hope Christmas gala.”

“Stay here?” Eddie asks, even though he's a little afraid he's pushing it. The guy drove here for him after one upset voicemail, he's pretty sure he's not going to be turned off by the suggestion of staying over a few days.

“Shit, yeah, I'd love to. You want me to help decorate?” Steve offers.

Eddie swallows past the lump in his throat and nods. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

He puts on Loretta Lynn, and before he knows it he's laughing along with Steve as they bicker about where to put some of the decorations and immediately agree on others.

It's a much better day than Eddie could have ever imagined.

—

“How'd you guys even find this place?”

It's mid December, and the Hawkins Hope crew officially have the resort for the rest of the year.

Which means Eddie's been hanging out there pretty much all of his days off, to the point where the security staff don't even bother to check his ID anymore. They just let him waltz right into the resort to meet Steve at one of the lounges.

Or in the room Steve's staying in, which is where they're at now.

“We rented it out for a couple of weeks back in the spring. Or I guess, technically Scoops Troop did, but when Joyce saw it we figured it would be the perfect place.”

“That was you guys?” Eddie asks. “I figured it was some doucebag pop singer.”

“Well, I guess you'd be kind of right, depending on how you feel about Scoops Troop.” Steve says it too casually, like he's trying to pretend that he doesn't care about Eddie's response - but he clearly cares about Eddie's response.

Eddie hums softly. “How do you feel about Scoops Troop?”

“Hawk is fantastic,” Steve replies immediately. “She's so, so talented, she could do just about anything, you know? She's funny, and so damn smart, she's just amazing.”

Briefly, Eddie wonders if he should be jealous, but nah. Steve'd sounded similar to the way he does when he talks about Robin, and Eddie knows there's nothing going on there.

“What about Alistair?” Eddie asks.

Steve gives a one shouldered shrug. “I don't think my opinion really matters all that much.”

“Of course it matters, Stevie, your opinion always matters,” Eddie says.

Steve smiles at him, soft and fond. “Thank you.”

Eddie waits, but apparently Steve is going to play hard to get on the subject of Alistair. “Do you like him?”

Steve shrugs again. “Yeah, sure.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, squirming a little so he's draped across Steve's lap, staring up at him expectantly.

Steve huffs out a little laugh, carding his fingers through Eddie's hair.

“It was touch and go there for a little bit,” Steve admits. “There was some pretty dicklike behavior going on for a while.”

Eddie gives a dramatic gasp. “A teenage idol? Being a dick? You don't say.”

There's another little laugh, which Eddie's going to count as a win.

“And now?” Eddie asks. “The charity thing, is that all a cover?”

“Nah,” Steve says. “That's genuine. You go through some shit, get a couple of good thumps on the head, it can change your perspective on a lot of things. Makes you realize what's important, and what's just bullshit, you know?”

It sounds like Steve's speaking from experience, and Eddie makes a little encouraging noise.

“My dad did some pretty shitty things to some of my friends,” he says quietly. “And to me. There was a time when I was probably too much like him. I mean, I wasn't ever that bad, but - I put popularity and shit above the things that really mattered.”

“It's hard to imagine you like that,” Eddie says.

Steve frowns a little. “Really?”

“Well, okay, you're kind of a preppy jock, and back in high school I would have thought you were a huge asshole. But I mean, I was kind of a dick back then, too. I probably would have judged you without even knowing you. And now, knowing you? Shit, you're amazing, Steve.”

Steve swallows, leaning down to kiss him.

“I kind of like that you don't know a lot about Alistair,” Steve admits quietly.

“Really?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Most of the people that I work with, aside from the core staff? They're in this because it's a good look for them, or because of their connections with Scoops Troop. You're one of the few who helped out just because of the kids.”

“You guys did pay me,” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, but you said yes before you even knew how much. It wasn't because of some celebrity, it was just because you're a good guy.”

Something squirms around in Eddie's gut, in a way that he can't decide is good or not. Don't get him wrong, Steve telling him he's a good guy's got his heart beating a little quicker, but he also feels like Steve's got the wrong impression of him.

“I mean, I also did it because you asked me to,” he says, before Steve goes thinking it was entirely selfless. “And you're the prettiest guy I've ever seen.”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “You agreed to help out just to get paid and to get in my pants?”

“Well, not just that. It worked though, didn't it?”

There's another laugh, and Steve jostles him with his knee a little. “Seriously, though. There's not a lot of people in my life that aren't here because of Alistair.”

It's Eddie's turn to swallow. “Well, now you've got me.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, still far too serious. His eyes are so intense as he looks down at Eddie, like he's seeing straight through him - like he's on the verge of saying something big, something maybe too big.

“So what are you going to do with me, then?” Eddie asks, light and teasing, wiggling his eyebrows.

It works to break the moment, though Steve's still looking at him almost too closely.

“Keep you,” Steve says. “If you'll let me.”

Jesus Christ.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “Yeah, I'll let you.”

—

The sound of a piano playing draws him down one of the resort hallways, smiling softly as he recognizes it as a Billy Joel song.

“La, la-la, di-di-da,” echoes along with the notes of the piano. “La-la di-di-da da-dum.”

He follows the sound, until he reaches another one of the resort's many little lounging areas. This one has the customary fireplace, wide open windows with gorgeous scenery, and cozy seating. It also has a baby grand piano, and Eddie's a little shocked to see Steve sitting at it, eyes closed as he plays.

“Sing us a song, you're the piano man,” Steve croons. His voice is a little raspy, a little rough, low and soft and so fucking gorgeous that it makes Eddie catch his breath. “Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody.”

“And you've got us feeling all right,” Eddie chimes in.

Steve's eyes fly open, and he looks a little panicked for a moment before his gaze catches on Eddie. The tension in his body relaxes a little, though there's something about him that seems a bit wary.

It makes Eddie feel like maybe he shouldn't make a big deal about this, shouldn't exclaim that he didn't know Steve could play or tell him that he should sing more often.

“Practicing for a music activity with the kids?” Eddie asks.

Steve's expression lights up with a smile, and Eddie immediately feels like he's said the right thing.

Which isn't all that common of an occurrence, honestly. Makes it feel pretty damn good that he just about always gets it right with Steve.

“Doing a piano lesson later,” Steve says.

“And you're going to teach them Billy Joel?” he asks.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “Christmas carols, actually. I was just trying to warm up a little.”

“Don't mind me,” Eddie says, plopping down at the bench next to him and leaning against him. “Warm up away. Hey, you play one I know, and I'll even sing.”

Steve's expression goes contemplative for a moment. “How about we sing together?”

“You don't have to,” Eddie says a little guiltily, kind of worried that he'd made him feel pressured.

Steve shakes his head. “I want to. What's your favorite Christmas song?”

“Carol of the Bells,” Eddie says immediately.

Steve barks out a little laugh.

“What?” Eddie demands, bumping his shoulder. “It's a good one!”

“I know,” Steve says. “It's my favorite, too. It's just not a great dueting song.”

“Nah, come on, give me some notes. We got this,” Eddie insists.

Steve rolls his eyes, but his fingers dance over the keys as he starts playing.

“Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.” Eddie's not exactly singing so much as he's whispering the words into Steve's ear, lips brushing up right against his skin.

It makes Steve's breath catch. He tips his head to face Eddie, playing without looking.

“Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold,” Steve whisper sings back. Even like this, he sounds good - Eddie can tell he must have gotten some training, but with who Steve's dad is, he's not surprised.

Eddie kind of figures that's why any musical ability Steve has would be a sore subject, so he doesn't ask about it. “Ding dong ding dong, that is their song, with joyful ring, all caroling.”

“One seems to hear, words of good cheer,” Steve sings, lips so close to Eddie's that they're practically breathing the same air. “From everywhere, filling the air.”

Steve joins him in singing, “Oh how they pound, raising the sound,” their voices melding together in a way that Eddie's not sure is technically good, but fuck it feels downright magical.

They make it through a few more verses like that, but Steve kisses him before they finish out the song, and they're too distracted to get back to it.

Really, it's not like Eddie's going to complain.

Steve's amazing with the kids, he's clearly not a terrible shower singer, and Eddie's not holding out much hope for the wet towels on the floor at this point.

Eddie just doesn't know how he got so lucky.

—

When Eddie opens the door, Chrissy immediately smacks him with a magazine, but doesn't say anything until she and Jeff have pushed their way into his apartment and shut the door behind them.

Eddie blinks at them, bewildered.

“When were you going to tell us?” she asks in a low, excited whisper.

“Tell you what?” he asks.

“He probably swore you to secrecy, right?” Jeff asks.

“Can we talk about it now that we know?” Chrissy says. “Oh, wait, you probably had to sign an NDA or something, right?”

Jeff makes a face. “Are we going to have to sign an NDA?”

“An NDA about what?” Eddie demands.

Chrissy thrusts the magazine at him, shaking it until he takes it.

Oh.

That's Steve and Robin on the cover, wearing matching Christmas sweaters, with glitter on their eyelids and cheeks and snowflakes in their hair.

He can feel his expression go a little dopey and fond, but hey, how is he supposed to help it?

Eddie assumes it's some kind of article about the Christmas gala Hawkins Hope is throwing, but the caption of the picture catches his eye as he's looking up.

Christmastime With Scoops Troop! Alistair and Hawk spill about their holiday traditions.

It's not until Eddie hears Chrissy saying, “Oh” and Jeff going, “Oh shit, you didn't know,” that Eddie realizes he's gaping.

Eddie slams his jaw shut. “No,” he says tightly, feeling a sharp stab of hurt covered up immediately by a blinding rush of anger. “No, I didn't know that my boyfriend is famous. Apparently that's something that he didn't feel was important to tell me.”

He throws the magazine down onto the couch, stalking around the living room. “Apparently Alistair likes to play games with poor, hick bartenders, make them think they've found something amazing, while Mr. Famous Douchebag is probably off laughing with his other celebrity friends about what an idiot I am.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy says, sounding a little shocked. “I don't know if that's fair.”

“Fair?” Eddie demands. “Fair would have been leaving me the hell out of however he gets his rocks off. It wasn't coming into the Hideout again and again, hanging out with us and getting to know us, all the time keeping something like this!”

“Hey,” Jeff cuts in. “Come on, man, Steve didn't owe us anything then. He was just a guy coming into a bar to get some drinks, getting along with the staff there.”

Eddie snarls, because he wants to be as furious as possible, and he isn't thrilled that Jeff's making a logical point. “Fine,” he concedes. “But he owed me something. He should have told me what I was getting into before I got too deep. I don't - what, was his plan to just keep quiet about this forever and hope I wouldn't find out? How stupid does he think I am?”

Chrissy and Jeff are silent at that, but that just deflates Eddie more than if they had tried to argue with him.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” he asks.

“Do you want to break up with him?” Chrissy asks.

Eddie startles. “No!” Then he pauses, considering. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Jeff prompts.

“What if all of this was a game? What if he never liked me at all, and he was just a celebrity asshole having some fun?”

“What if it wasn't?” Chrissy counters gently. “What if he's just a guy who found someone he really liked and was too scared to tell him about this?”

Eddie drops down into the couch, burying his head in his hands. “I have to talk to him, don't I?”

—

Eddie goes to talk to him.

He asks the resort staff to let Steve know that he's here, waits around in the front entrance until one of the staff tells him they got the go ahead to let Eddie wait in Steve's room.

Eddie's sitting on the bed when Steve there.

“Eddie? Are you okay, they told me you-” Steve cuts off, and Eddie's going to assume that he saw the magazine in Eddie's hands.

He can't bring himself to look up to see him, to check for sure.

“Was any of it real?” he asks. His voice comes out rough, though he manages not to sound like he's on the verge of tears.

“God, Eds, of course it's real, how can-”

“Don't,” Eddie cuts him off, harsh and sharp.

Steve makes a little wounded sound before he falls silent, and this time Eddie can't help but look up at him.

Steve looks - he looks like a fucking wreck. His eyes are wet and sad, and he looks like everything that he'd been trying to balance on his shoulders has come crashing down. Eddie wishes he could say with confidence that the guy he knows, the guy he's fallen in love with, is the same guy he's seeing now, is who Steve really is.

Still, Eddie isn't here to purposefully hurt him. Chrissy and Jeff had talked sense into him - he just wants answers.

“I don't think it's fair for you to act like I'm out of line for doubting that,” Eddie says.

Steve crumples like a wet paper bag.

“You're right,” he says, which honestly - Eddie wasn't expecting. “It's not fair, I'm sorry. Of course you'd think that if I was hiding this, what else wasn't I telling the truth about?”

Eddie rolls up the magazine to hide how his hands want to shake, crinkling it with the force of his grip. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not at first,” Steve admits, lips twisted in a humorless little smile. “This summer, I just - it was nice, spending time with people who had no idea who I was. I thought that would be it, but then the more time I spent with you, the more I fell for you, and by the time I realized I didn't want to let you go, I was afraid. Afraid of your reaction, afraid of what it would mean for us. There's so many people that think they know me as Alistair, and so few that know the real me. I knew, just - even if you didn't hate me, even if you still wanted to be with me, things were going to change. I wouldn't just be Steve anymore.”

“But… you are Alistair. I'm not getting the real you unless I can have both.”

Steve swallows. “Do you want both?”

Eddie blinks at him, a little thrown. “What kind of question is that?”

“Most people want to date Alistair, the pop singer. I haven't had anyone since Nancy who knew me as Steve first, and I - I don't know. I kind of thought it would work the other way, too,” Steve admits. “That you wouldn't want any part of Alistair.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Dude, you keep talking about Steve and Alistair like they're different people. They're both still you, right? I mean, sure, you've got to put on a different front when you're out there with the press and the celebrities, but we all do that a little. You think I act the same way with most customers that I do with you?”

“I - no. Okay, well, I hope not,” Steve adds, just a little bit teasing.

“Definitely not,” Eddie says, giving him the tiniest smile. “So if you're really in this, I want you to be in it. I don't want you to have to hide something so huge from me. I think I deserve the chance to know all of you.”

“Okay,” Steve says softly. “You're right. You're - yeah. If you still want this, if I didn't fuck everything up, then I promise no more secrets.”

Eddie lets out a slow, ragged exhale. Then, “It was real, right?”

“Every bit of it,” Steve says. He inches closer, then when Eddie doesn't stop him, he comes to sit next to him.

“Everything I've told you is true,” Steve says solemnly. “It's okay if you can't believe that yet. I promise I'll work really hard to show you.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Maybe I'm stupid, but I do believe you. There's a lot of things that make sense now.”

Thinking back on it - he doesn't think Steve ever actually directly lied to him, not once. Just by omission.

“Fuck, your dad is even worse than I thought,” Eddie swears. “I assumed you guys had a falling out because he fucked over your friends, but he fucked over you.”

“And my friends,” Steve says. “Jane, Hopper's adopted daughter - she got it the worst. I mean, it was mostly our manager, Brenner, who was the real piece of work, but it's not like my dad gave a shit.”

“Fuck him even more,” Eddie mutters. “Am I allowed to ask what happened? Will I have to sign an NDA or something?”

Steve huffs out a little laugh. “No NDAs, and yeah, you can ask. Hopper and Joyce were the ones that uncovered a lot of it, at first, and then Nancy and Jonathan did this massive push and got all the details to leak to the press. They're in investigative journalism half because of how good of a job they did. Robs and I both almost quit music after, but Joyce and Hop knew this guy who was a really good manager, and Murray knew Dimitri who had a small record label, and it just… fell together.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Hopper's your head of security, isn't he?”

Steve grins. “And the security for Hawkins Hope, but yeah, mostly me and Robin. Jonathan also does most of our pictures for album covers and stuff, and Argyle actually handles our PR.”

Eddie hums. “Wait, why didn't I have to sign an NDA? What if I was secretly a reporter just pretending to be a bartender?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “But you weren't.”

“What if I was?” Eddie insists. “Or, okay, what if it didn't work out and I was the kind of guy who liked petty revenge? What if some shady paparazzi comes up to me and promises a huge pay day if I spill all of the secrets I learned?”

“You wouldn't,” Steve says confidently.

Which, okay, yes, Eddie very much appreciates Steve's trust in him and it kind of makes him feel a little gooey inside, but Eddie's on a roll and he has a point to make.

“I could!” Eddie protests. “What if I was just a huge asshole? What do Hopper and Argyle think of you dating someone without an NDA?”

“I don't think I've ever had anyone mad at me that I didn't ask them to sign an NDA,” Steve says thoughtfully.

“Well clearly you've been dating douchebags,” Eddie grumbles. “You have to look out for yourself more, okay, what if I was just the worst person in the world and - what?”

Steve's smiling at him way too fondly. “I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you,” he says softly.

Eddie's breath catches. “Is that, uh. Is that a confession, or the reason you didn't have me sign an NDA?”

“Both?” Steve admits. “Look, I know it's kind of early, so I'm not expecting -”

“No, fuck that, I'm definitely in love with you,” Eddie cuts in. “I've wanted to say it since the time you called me at work.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out. “Still?”

“Still.” Eddie makes a little face at himself. “I do trust you, Steve. It might take me a while to get used to everything, but I don't think there's anything I'm going to learn that will change that.”

Steve kisses him, tangling his fingers in Eddie's hair.

“Come to the Christmas gala with me?” he asks.

“Won't the press and stuff be there?” Eddie says.

“Yeah. It's okay if you're not ready for that, but I - I think I'd like to tell people that I have a boyfriend. To introduce you whenever you are ready.”

Eddie considers that. He's honestly not sure he is ready, but - shit, is he ever going to feel ready? “Yeah,” he says. “Jesus, yeah, let's do it.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, his face lighting up.

“Yeah,” Eddie says again. “Just, uh, let me call my uncle and tell him first. Unless - do you want to come with me, tell him together?”

Steve kisses him again. “I'd really like that. We're still in this, still figuring this all out together, right?”

Eddie follows after him for another kiss. “Together,” he agrees.

Yeah, Eddie can handle that. As long as they're together.