#truly the only thing left for him to even be saying about it anymore is like. 'well let's see if we can make more spn and find out hehe'

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader New

Synopsis: Everything between you and Ser Aemond was now new, but always natural. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Secret Relationship, Fluff PREVIOUS PART

You tasted like the berries you had during tea time. So sweet. Aemond never cared for sweets; he found them too addicting, so he had managed to control himself when consuming them. However, with you, gods— he didn’t think he could ever have enough. Was it too soon to say he was addicted? By just one taste of you, he was certain he could never live without it. Now that his lips had known the pressure of yours— now that he had known your taste; he could never go back to simply wondering and dreaming about it. With just one taste, you had made him a man obsessed. 

Aemond ignored all his sensibilities and cupped your cheek, deepening your kiss— pulling you impossibly closer to him and seemingly never wanting to let you go; how could he? When he felt your soft, plush lips stagger, Aemond knew he must part for you to catch your breath, controlling himself even though he wanted to keep your lips against his. He opened his eye, the image of your parted, swollen lips— your flushed face and wide eyes forever engraved in his memory. You were not his first kiss, and he cursed himself as to why he had sullied his lips with others when, all the while, yours were waiting for him. 

“Oh gods…” you said in shock as to what you had done. You could not even look into Ser Aemond’s eye— too scared of what his reaction would be. Indeed, he was scandalized— perplexed at what you had done. You had crossed all boundaries— you had passed the point of no return, and though you yourself had no wish to go back— there was no regret; you knew your knight, who would forever hold himself in his duty would not take your actions well. “I…I’m sorry,” You say,  discombobulated; you did not even wait for his reply, for you quickly ran away, leaving your knight confused and flushed.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” You muttered as you entered your chambers, humiliated and ashamed for what you had done. You covered your face with your hands, the feel and taste of your knight still prominent on your lips. He tasted like mint and a bitterness you did not mind. You breathed heavily as you heard the clank of his armor from the other side of the door. You bit your lip, already deciding in yourself that you would hide in your chambers once more, unwilling to face the consequences of your actions. 

Aemond stood at his post, knees weak as his mind recalled your kiss. He turned towards the door, having the urge to enter your chambers and confront you. How could you just kiss him and run? Had he done something wrong? Perhaps you did not enjoy it as much as he did, or maybe he accidentally bit your lip? He did not know anymore. All he knew was this was the first time his body had reacted to such a kiss, and he could only hope that you felt the same. 

When night came, you had not left your chambers. Aemond could barely hear you. Usually, he would hear you speaking to yourself or Theodore, but not once had he heard a word leave your lips; the only indication that you were still there were your quiet footsteps as you paced around your chambers. 

As Aemond thought about your actions once more, he began to wonder what had led you to do such a thing. Why would you kiss him? What was the reason for you to bestow upon him your first kiss? There was just one apparent reason he could think of. You kissed him because you wanted to. You kissed him because you wanted him. Aemond was left overwhelmed with such a line of reasoning. Had you fallen for him as he had fallen for you? Did you truly want him as much as he wanted you? Aemond sighed heavily, his mind running and jumping to conclusions that had no concrete explanation— but he convinced himself that your kiss was a reason enough for him to believe— to hope that you held affection for him as well.

You paced in your room, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as you tried to think of a way to proceed. Surely, Ser Aemond would want to be removed from his station— that he cannot be your sworn protector after you had shown such actions that crossed all boundaries. You paled at the thought. You did not think of the consequences! You have no wish for Ser Aemond to leave your side, but what else could he do after you had kissed him? You had placed his station at peril, and you had laid yourself to scandal. When a knock sounded out, you paled as the knock was the familiar pattern of your knight’s. You stayed silent and held your breath, hoping he would think you were already abed.

“I can see your shadow by the door, princess,” You hear his muffled voice declare, and you quietly groan as you have no escape. You breathed in heavy breaths as you gathered all your courage to speak, “C… co— come in,” You squeaked, and Ser Aemond slowly entered your chambers. There was a tense moment of silence that was then broken by your rambling and profusely apologizing for your actions. “I’m sorry! I…I think I was going crazy— and… and I had no intention of offending you an—“ Aemond pursed his lips, a wide smile wanting to escape as you went on and on with your apologies, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed as your hands moved with each of the multitude words that left your lips. 

“I’m sorry! I— please, you don’t have to leave your station… no one needs to know what had happened. And I swear it would never happe—“ Aemond shook his head and captured your lips before you could finish your sentence because he would never forgive himself if you made such promises. You were taken by shock for a moment as you felt his thin lips against yours again, but as he cupped your cheek, you turned lax and let out a sigh as your eyes fluttered to a close. Was it too soon that you were already addicted to his lips? You always thought that your favorite thing would be tasting the sugar on your lips each time you had your little sweet treats, but by just the second taste of Ser Aemond, you knew it had been dethroned— nothing could compare to him. 

When your lips parted, you looked upon him in shock and confusion, your mind trying to find an answer as to why he would kiss you, and there was only one answer you could think of. You breathed in a shallow breath, “Do you… do you like me as well?” You questioned, fearing the answer as there was a possibility he could say no. 

Aemond smiled and tucked in a loose lock of your hair, letting his fingers brush your soft, warm cheek. “It’s impossible not to,” he whispered softly, watching as the scarlet on your cheeks turned maroon. “Really?” You asked in disbelief as you still thought your affections for him were unrequited. “Why?” You could not help but ask— still finding it hard to believe that he would be attracted to you as well, especially as he had seen you in all of your states. “Why?” Aemond breathed out a laugh as his other hand cupped your cheek as well. “Oh, princess… because you are kind and genuine— you are selfless and caring— because… you are you— that is reason enough for me.” You bit the insides of your cheeks as you had no words— your insides were overwhelmed with further affection for Ser Aemond that all you could do was kiss again.

“You know, I really tried not to like you— but it truly is impossible,” He added as your lips parted, a smile on his lips as you circled your arms around his neck. Your lips agape at his confession. “Was that why you were so mean to me before?!” You gasped as you had thought it was your fault— that you had done something that made your knight hold such bitterness. Aemond only shrugged, “Now I’m starting to wonder why I like you,” you muttered in tease, and Aemond chuckled, pinching your side in tease as well. You laughed and pressed yourself further upon his frame, his hold on your cheeks lowering to your waist. “What now?” You asked after a short moment of silence, savoring the way he held you. “Nothing— we just stay as we are, by each other’s side,” He said and placed a kiss on the top of your head as you let him hold you for a few moments more. 

You breathed in deeply. You have always wondered about this day— when you would finally find someone you would want. You imagined that there would be great anticipation— fireworks accompanied by the loudness of the world, the erratic beating of your heart— and your nerves consuming you. You thought you would finally get that confession during a rainstorm or a heated argument; nothing about how this had all transpired. Everything was calm with Ser Aemond— almost anti-climactic, and you knew you would prefer stillness more than uproar. His love was silent, and you would gladly listen for it. 

“What did you do last night?” You almost choked on your tea as your brother asked the question. You blinked for a moment, resisting to look upon your knight whose lips had met yours countless times last night. “Uh… I was tired. I went straight to bed,” You lied, feeling an inkling of guilt as you were not accustomed to offering your brother full lies— you’d often fib but never lie. “Oh, well, you do look rested— though a bit flushed,” Your brother shrugged and went on with his meal. You sat quietly, trying to reign in the blush on your cheeks and the smile that wanted to slip your lips as your mind kept replaying the scenes with Aemond (He insisted you called him without titles when it was only the two of you.) holding you and kissing your lips. 

“When did you realize you liked me?” You suddenly questioned when it was only you and Aemond in the gardens. You hear him cough, seemingly caught off guard by your question. You smiled widely as you turned to face him, a pinkness in the tip of his ears that you would consider his version of a blush. “Uh…I don’t— I’m not quite certain,” He said, genuinely uncertain. He could recall the exact moment when he realized he had fallen for you but not the moment you questioned, which led him to think, when did he exactly start to like you? He could recall his first days, trying impeccably hard to dislike you, to hold animosity that was not backed by any support to dislike you— but he could not remember the exact moment when he finally started to let go of that forced animosity. 

You hummed and nodded, no longer prying and forcing him to think about your question. “And you? When did you realize that you were harboring feelings for your knight?” He returned the question, biting the insides of his cheek at how quickly a blush came to your face. He moved from his station behind you and stood to where you looked ahead, enjoying further the image of you sitting on your chair in the gardens, the flowers that surround you making you look more ethereal in his eyes.

“Your night off,” You answered, watching as Aemond frowned in confusion. You’ve always liked— you’ve liked him for the longest time, but not until recently did you realize that you loved him, an emotion so great that you could not yet share with him. “What?” Aemond questioned, surprised as you knew the exact moment. You shrugged, “I uh… I know I said I sneaked off into the city to watch a show— and that is true, yes, but… I was hoping to run into you, in which I did.” You smiled as the pinkness on the tips of his ears furthered. Aemond bit his lip and looked around the gardens, his heartbeat spreading throughout his whole body at your confession. “So you have been pinning for me this whole time?” He asked quietly, a further feeling of affection for you surging through him. “As if you haven’t,” You retaliated, twiddling with your fingers as you felt your stomach flip when Aemond breathed out a laugh and nodded slowly. 

You parted your lips to ask another question, enamored with the idea that both you and Aemond had been longing and yearning for each other but had stayed silent until either of you could deny your attraction, but the sound of a cat’s whine caught your attention. You frowned as you thought it was Theodore, but you had left him sleeping in your chambers. You sat straighter and saw a ball of white fur by the foot of your knight, the feline nuzzling its face on your knight's leg as it purred. “Look! A kitten! Pick it up,” You said to Ser Aemond as you as well stood in excitement. Aemond looked upon it warily, not certain how to react as he was accustomed to Theodore’s animosity and indifference towards him. Aemond slowly did as you told, and you huddled by his side to have a clearer view of the cat with white fur and sapphire-like eyes. You gently petted its head and assessed it for its gender whilst in the stiff arms of Aemond. 

“Aww… she likes you! I feared that cats are indifferent to you, seeing how you interact with Theodore,” You mumbled and scratched the head of the feline that just appeared. “We should keep her,” You said as Aemond’s arms were growing tired at how he held the cat an arm’s length away from him. “We should?” He questioned as the cat stared at him. “Yes! She clearly likes you!” You said, and the feline only meowed as you took her in your arms as you sensed Aemond was growing uncomfortable. “What should we name her?” You questioned and returned to your seat and set the cat on the table, offering her some berries in your hands that she readily nibbled upon. 

“I… I don’t know,” He muttered, mesmerized by you, who petted the feline with so much love and adoration, though you had only met it. “Surely you have a name that you like! Come now, name her!” You urged and turned to Aemond, who could only stare. He was drawing a blank— the only name he truly liked was yours and perhaps Seraphina, the name you planned to give your future daughter, but other than that, he could not think of anything. “I’m not good with naming, princess,” He said quietly as passersby started to appear. You pouted and continued to pet the cat, thinking of a name that would match Theodore’s. “Hm… what about Sapphira? Her eyes look like sapphires, do they not?” You asked, hoping your knight would agree. Aemond felt a small smile twitch on his lips as you looked upon him expectantly, “Then Sapphira it is,” He agreed, grateful to witness as a wide smile come to your face. 

“Go on, play with her,” You urged Theodore as you returned to your chambers to have the two cats acquainted. Aemond stood by the door and observed you earnestly try to make both of the cats play with one another. However, Theodore only rested on your lap, staring at Sapphira, who played with a ball of yarn with indifference. “Theo, come now, we got you a playmate!” You say, talking to the cat as if it were an actual human being. You turned to Ser Aemond, and at the mention of him, Theodore suddenly hissed, surprising you. “That’s quite rude,” You chastised your cat but still soothingly brushed his fur. “I still do not know why Theodore does not like you, but Sapphira was quickly taken by you,” You say, and Aemond tensed, the memory of what he did for Theodore to dislike him replaying in his mind. 

Aemond stared down as Sapphira came to him, urging him to join you in the sitting area where you sat. You smiled as Aemond threaded closer to you, moving from where you sat to make room for Ser Aemond. You smiled as Theodore was in your lap, and Sapphira jumped onto Aemond’s. You glanced about the room and saw the reflection of the two of you in a mirror. Sat next to each other with cats on your laps, the damned gap between dissolved, and you hoped you would never appear again. 

“Aemond,” you called as he cautiously petted the fur of Sapphira. “Yes, princess?” He asked, turning to you. “I uh… I really like you,” You confessed the obvious. A blush once again creeps up to your cheeks. Aemond bit his lip, feeling like a boy again, which was odd because he didn’t think he ever felt like a boy, but you had that effect on him. “Good. But you must know that I like you more,” He stated, and your smile only widened, and you could not help but kiss him once again. It was a rather odd feeling— kissing someone. You never thought about how it would feel or how you would react when doing it, but though the sensation felt new, it felt natural— too natural, if you’re being honest. Kissing him felt so easy as if you were just breathing. It was exciting, yes, but most importantly, it felt pure— instinctive, as if you were born to kiss his lips. And perhaps you were. 

[lidiasloca]

time travelling to harry

PART TWO

harry potter x reader

summary: you use a malfunctioning time-turner that takes you to Harry Potter’s fifth year, and you find it very difficult to not fall in love with the Hogwarts’ legend.

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"Yes."

Harry gives you a dazzling smile in answer. “Great!”

It is then that you realize the weight of your decision. What if this changes something? Well – if you change something in your past, meaning this present, then you’d see it already in your present, meaning this future, right?

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh. Nothing. Nothing.” You try to smile, but it comes out nervously, paired with your flushed face. “Mmmm… where do we start?”

Before he can answer, Ron’s yell cuts through the bubble you've created with Harry. “Guys, it’s getting late. We’ve decided to leave it here for today.”

“Oh,” Harry mutters in surprise. You hadn’t realized it was this late either. “Alright, then. See you all tomorrow.”

He waves Ron and Hermione goodbye, and the rest of the students follow them to leave. At last, Harry turns back to you. “We should leave as well. Do you have class now?”

You definitely don’t have class now, nor in about fifty years or more.

“I don’t,” you shyly say under your breath.

He will not find out. He will not find out. Calm down.

“Oh. Alright. Great!” He chuckles nervously, which makes you more nervous. Does he know your secret? “And would you like to – well, I am going to visit Hagrid, maybe… do you want to come?”

Oh my. Hagrid.

“Hagrid?”

“Hagrid. Yes.”

Hagrid. You were going to meet yet another Hogwarts legend.

Your friends always mocked you when you confessed it made you cry that you never got to meet the unique keeper of keys. But now you are, and Harry can read the joy it brings you by your beam.

“Is that a yes?”

You nod with carefree elation. Maybe this wasn’t too bad? Maybe it was the greatest thing that has ever happened to you. This was all you never knew you wanted – meeting your school heroes. Maybe befriending them… Maybe…

Your delight doesn’t falter one bit as you wander with Harry through the castle. Somehow, magic is more alive now than in the future. As if Harry’s magic spreads through the air. Perhaps the saying was right, Harry Potter really was the light of Hogwarts.

“What?” he asks with a laugh as he finds you watching him.

No embarrassment shows on your face, just an easy smile that creates a new complicity between you two. It has been fun talking to him during your walk. You’ve found out he truly is a sweetheart; it was relieving that the hero isn’t intimidating at all, but just a kind boy with a good heart. He is even quite timid, which makes him even more endearing.

“Nothing.”

He chuckles, and shaking his head, remarks, “I have to ban you from using that word anymore.”

You match his playful chuckle. “I’d be left with nothing.”

“Oh, shut up!” he laughs even deeper, hitting you playfully with some books he had picked up for Hagrid.

“Ouch!”

“No, but really – you have to stop saying nothing and start explaining who you are. Or why I’ve never seen you at Hogwarts.” There’s a suspicion in his tone that makes you alert. But he laughs it off.

“Mmmm,” you start, unsure of what to say. “Well, I’m Y/N.”

“I know that,” he says plainly.

“I told you it’s difficult to explain.”

“Try.”

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But… You inspect the hallway, watching for any signs of someone being around. You're alone, but you still don’t feel safe enough.

“Hey – What?” he exclaims as you swiftly take him by his uniform and pull him through a door. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t risk being heard,” is all you explain.

His confusion only grows, and he takes a step toward you, as if the closer he gets, the closer the answer is to him. “So you are going to tell me?”

“I am.” You sigh, already regretting your decision. “But you have to promise me you will tell no one.”

He nods. “I promise.”

You don’t know why, but you believe his words utterly, just like you would Nathaniel, your most trusted friend. You try to tell your heart you shouldn’t trust this boy you’ve just met so blindly, no matter how kind and good he is.

“Alright. Well… the thing is… I may have come here from – well – from the future.” It almost sounds like a question, the way you say it. A question Harry most definitely doesn’t have the answer to.

“What.”

You nod.

“What do you mean you come from the future?”

You owe him a longer explanation. “I found an old time-turner. I turned it, and now I’m here.” You go to show him the collar, but you don’t find it on your neck, where it should be. Oh no. You must have dropped it somewhere, right? If not, how would you ever return?

Or maybe – just maybe, this was your perfect excuse to never return. To stay here.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” you reply, looking down at your feet. You’ll look for the time-turner after this. “I didn’t know what I was doing, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“You mean you don’t know how to go back?” he asks, still taken aback.

“No, that I know. I would just have to turn the ring five times, or so. It’s just that… Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s not that I don’t know how to go back, it’s just that I don’t know if I want to.”

“You don’t want to go back?” he questions, surprised.

“I don’t want to leave.”

“But… Why?”

He’s really making this hard for you. You hope your answer is clear enough as you look into his eyes.

You. This Hogwarts. It feels like home. “I like it here, I guess,” you mutter at last.

He nods, registering your words thoughtfully.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, as a soft blush creeps up his cheeks.

“You are?”

“Yes. I like you… being here.”

You can't help the smile that grows on your face as you avoid his eyes. “I like that you’re here, too.”

He returns your smile, and you simply can't move your eyes away from the sweetness of it.

But your tender moment lasts only so long. “Do you hear that?” he asks, walking outside the door.

“What?” But then your answer comes in the form of a yell.

“Y/N?!” It’s Nathaniel’s voice. “Y/N? Where are you?”

How on earth–

“Nathaniel?” you ask as you face him outside of the room. Harry follows you immediately. “Nathaniel, how did you–”

But your words fade as he collides with you in a worried hug. His uneven breath warms your neck intermittently. “Y/N,” he whispers. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“How – How did you get here?”

“I took the time-turner I assume you used.”

“It was there? It stayed in that room?” So that’s why you didn’t have it anymore. But then – “Do you have it?”

He finally lets go of you, shaking his head no.

Oh my. This complicates things.

“But we will find a time-turner here. I promise. And then we will return home.”

Home.

You turn to the boy behind you. Harry’s face is nearly unreadable, but his eyes tell you he doesn’t want you to go.

You don’t want to go either.

But how would you tell Nathaniel? How could you abandon your real life?

“But we can’t waste much more time,” Nathaniel continues, and you spare a final sorrowful glance at Harry before turning to your friend. “We have to find one now.” He looks behind you and adds, “Does he know where we could find one?”

Even though you love your friend, it still hurts that he sometimes acts this way – that he treats Harry like no more than furniture, not even acknowledging he’s here. Not even speaking directly to him. It was his most Slytherin trait.

And it’s your most Slytherin trait when you tell him sharply, “I don’t need one.”

“What?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“I’m staying.”

-Characters by J K Rowling

[coolearistrashcollection]

Chapter Three: Questions and no answers

Ccharacters: cult leader!Geto, cursed spirit!Reader TW: manipulation?, talks about death

Prologue (part 1) here, CH2/part3 here

You hate him for sealing you away. Or so you think. When he absorbed you, he saved your life, made a pact that bound you both. You had pledged your loyalty then. How could you truly hate someone who spared you from death?

No, hate isn’t the right word anymore, is it? Resentment, maybe. Annoyance, certainly. And now, here you are, working for him again. Not as a powerful entity, not in the grand role you once held, nothing as fearsome as the special grade curse that left destruction in its wake. No, now you're reduced to being a nanny, looking after his twin foster daughters.

"Nanako, Mimiko, time for school." Your voice is firm, though inside, you're still adjusting to this strange, mundane task. Babysitting children. Of all things. When Geto asked for your help, you thought he wanted you back beside him in battle. But this? Escorting two small humans to school? You have no experience with humans, let alone children. It's baffling, exhausting, and utterly beneath you, considering the power you once wielded.

Nanako, the more outspoken of the two, scrunches up her face in a pout. “Hey! Why can’t Geto take us?” Her tone carries that special blend of childish entitlement that grates at your nerves.

Mimiko, quieter but no less troublesome, chimes in. “Yeah! Why can’t he? He took us every day!” She clutches her stuffed animal ���a small, worn creature with an unsettling noose around its neck– and stares at you, clearly displeased with the new routine.

You fight the urge to snap. The irritation has been simmering since the start of the morning, and it’s far too early for this nonsense. “He’s busy, and he asked me to take care of you two. Now let’s move, or you’ll be late.” Your words are clipped, your tone betraying how little patience you have left.

The twins, however, don’t seem to care about your mounting frustration. They stand there, eyes wide, expecting you to somehow summon Geto out of thin air to take them. With an exaggerated sigh, you motion for them to follow you. Nanako huffs but starts moving, while Mimiko drags her feet behind, sulking.

As you guide the twins through the busy streets, your eyes are constantly scanning the crowd, alert for any lurking threats. Sorcerers are always a danger, especially now that Geto’s leadership of the Time Vessel Association has made them a target. Funnily enough, you recognised the cult, it's been around since your era, surviving the testament of time. However, you didn't fully grasp what happened that has led to this situation. 

The city is alive with noise and activity, yet you feel like a ghost, watching from the outside. And in a way, you are. Despite the crowds, no one acknowledges your presence. They instinctively avoid the space you occupy, oblivious to the invisible figure walking among them.

But the twins? The twins are always aware of you. As you walk, Nanako tugs lightly at your sleeve, her small, clammy hand a contrast to your cold, distant aura. “Why can no one see you?” she asks, her voice soft and curious. She hesitates, as though she’s been wondering about this for a while but only now has the courage to speak. Nanako has noticed how people pass without even glancing your way, unaware of your existence. Well, everyone except her, Mimiko, and, of course, Geto.

Before you can respond, Mimiko interrupts, her tone sharp with embarrassment. “Nanako! You can’t just ask people why no one notices them!” Her cheeks flush slightly as she scolds her twin, as though Nanako had broken some unspoken rule.

You pause for a moment, debating whether to answer. With what feels like your millionth sigh of the day, you finally respond. “I’m a curse” you say, your voice flat, factual. “Non-sorcerers can’t see me.”

The explanation is simple. A curse. A monster. It’s the truth, though it hardly explains the full depth of what you are. You used to revel in destruction, to thrive in chaos, and now you walk unnoticed through streets: to most people, you’re closer to a shadow that doesn’t quite fit.

Nanako tilts her head, her wide, innocent eyes studying you with an expression mixed with confusion, wonder, and fear. “A curse?” Her curiosity is palpable, and you can almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she tries to imagine you; Her strange, quiet caretaker with the dark, mysterious title of cure.

You sigh again, resisting the urge to explain further. You’re not in the mood for a lengthy conversation– especially not now, when your focus should be on keeping them safe in the crowded streets. “Something like that,” you mutter, your voice laced with weariness.

Their curiosity lingers, but they don’t press you further. Perhaps they sense your mood, maybe they’re just excited to go to school, or maybe they just got distracted by something else. Either way, the silence that follows feels almost like a relief.

As you continue leading the twins, you can’t help but feel that taking them to school is somehow more exhausting than any other task Geto has assigned to you. Even the endless drudgery of cleaning the temple pales in comparison. At least then, you knew what to expect. Here, surrounded by unpredictability and the need to constantly watch over his bratty children, the mental strain is far greater than you anticipated.

You glance down at the twins, now walking ahead a little, chattering quietly to each other. They’re so small, so fragile, two beings whose safety you are now responsible for. And yet, despite how draining this task is, you are thankful for Geto to release you. 

For now, the only thing that matters is getting them to school safely.

—

“Geto–”

“Please, call me Suguru.” He interrupts you smoothly, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes closed from the smile, yet it feels like he's intensely staring at you, watching your every move. “C’mon, we were a close duo once, weren’t we?”

You narrow your eyes with suspicion. “Then, Suguru” You emphasise, voice dripping with sarcasm, “When the hell did you get two kids, and why am I stuck playing babysitter? Actually, screw that, how many years have passed?”

“Let’s go somewhere more private, I believe we have many things to discuss.”

The room feels heavy around you, confrontation ahead. The conference room seems to close in from the surreal conversation, even the situation feels odd. It’s been a while since you last saw him. Outside, the cult members, fanatics who listen to Suguru’s every word, are gathering for his daily sermon. You can feel the muted hum of their excitement, their reverence for him. It sends a chill down your spine, you were one of his first supporters and probably the most neglected too. 

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, casually locking his arm with yours as though this is a simple stroll between friends. The gesture feels unsettlingly intimate given the current situation, but you don’t pull away. You let him guide you out of the conference room, away from the eerie gathering that awaits his presence. His grip is firm, showing the power he still holds over you, but caring at the same time.

The door swings shut behind you with a soft click, leaving the murmuring cultists behind. You glance sideways at Suguru, your jaw clenched tight. He’s always had this way of dodging your questions, of sidestepping the reality of the situation in favour of his own whims. It was infuriating then, and it’s infuriating now. You study his face as he speaks, searching for the remnants of the person you once knew beneath the hardened exterior. His transformation is shocking, yet feels strangely inevitable, as though this darker version of him had been lurking beneath the surface all along.

“When did things change? What happened to you, Suguru?” You ask, your voice lower now that the two of you are alone in the hallway. “Where’s Gojo?”

He glances at you with a dark expression, as though your questions bring up undesired memories to him. For a moment, he says nothing, and the silence stretches out uncomfortably, as though your words have dragged something painful to the surface. His black locks shining in the light, his sharp eyes glistening. “We had a couple disagreements…” His tone is heavy, almost mournful too. He shifts slightly, his posture rigid but controlled, as if keeping some darker emotion at bay.

“Disagreements?” You repeat. “Cmon, I thought you two were as thick as thieves… It was more than a disagreement, no?”

Another pause.

“Let’s just say we both have different… philosophies… and we have parted ways.”

“And that's where this cult comes in, no?”

“Correct.” He smirks. "Like I said," He begins in a casual tone, "my views regarding society have changed… and I took over this cult." He continues, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. His response is frustratingly smooth, like he’s rehearsed it a hundred times before. 

“Like I said, my views regarding society have changed,” he smiles, his eyes flickering with amusement as he smoothly dodges the question, “so, I took over this cult, where we all strive to achieve our goal, a new world order with an only sorcerer society.” 

This new persona of him was manipulative, you doubt people wanted their own extermination. Despite everything, a part of you is drawn to this version of him. This darker, more dangerous version of him is closer to your kind, to your true nature. He understands something fundamental about the world, something he couldn’t grasp before: humans cling to their illusions of civilization, of progress, when in truth, they are nothing more than weaklings. Vermin. You’ve always known this, it was ingrained into your being, but now Suguru knows it too.

“So… Gojo was trying to stop you, wasn’t he?” You press, watching for any expressions on his face. “He didn’t agree with your ‘new world order.’”

Suguru’s eyes darken, his amusement fading. “Satoru couldn’t see the bigger picture. He believed in saving humanity.” He spits the word as though it disgusts him. “But non-sorcerers are the disease, they are the only reason why curses exist in the first place. Their inability to manipulate cursed energy makes them a liability. They are simply stupid monkeys.”

“I’d say more like bugs, but sure. I got the picture. I wouldn’t exist without their fear,” You respond, a smirk playing on your lips. The thought of humans cowering before you, their screams for mercy echoing in your head, sends a thrill through your entire being. The allure of having your full powers back, unrestricted and untamed, is intoxicating. You can almost taste it, the raw energy that would come from their terror.

"But," You pause, the excitement fading momentarily, "I don’t understand why I’m stuck being a nanny for those two. I’m a curse, Suguru, not a babysitter. I’ve never taken care of kids before."

At the mention of the girls, something shifts in his demeanour. His expression turns soft. It was clear he deeply cared about them. There’s an unspoken tenderness behind his usual sharp eyes.

“Well," He begins, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia, “I found Nanako and Mimiko a few years ago, before quitting. I took them in, you could say I'm like a parental figure to them.” 

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Can’t anyone else take care of them? Really, I’m not exactly qualified for this. I’d much rather be helping you directly with your... 'new world order.’" You crave the thrill, the chaos, the destruction.

Suguru smiles at your words, seemingly unfazed by your rejection. There’s a warmth in that smile, a gentle amusement, as if he knows something you don’t. "I thought it’d be a good bonding experience. You cut me off when I was asking if you wanted to help," he adds lightly, though there’s a subtle edge of teasing in his tone. "Besides, they love brushing people’s hair. You’d enjoy it. They can be very sweet when you give them the chance."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you cross your arms defiantly. “They will not be brushing my hair, Suguru.”

“You’re missing out, then,” He chuckles, the sound low and almost affectionate. He’s not pressing the issue, but there’s a knowing look in his eyes that tells you he finds your frustration amusing. "Still, I’ll ask you again later to help me out. Absorbing more curses, gathering power... you remember how it was back in the old days. The thrill of it all."

His voice grows more serious, a sly grin creeping across his face as he leans in slightly. "And if you do well, prove yourself, I’ll reward you with something you’ve been looking for. Information about yourself."

You stiffen at that, his words cutting through the fog of irritation. "What kind of information?" You ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. You’ve always known there were things hidden from you, things you couldn’t remember about your past. But to hear Suguru mention it so casually feels like he’s dangling something precious just out of reach: and he knows exactly that you’ll do anything to grasp it.

He tilts his head slightly "Tengen. You know, the sorcerer responsible for sealing you?” His smile widening now too. “He formed this group around your time, and documented things about you. In fact, there’s a whole series of books dedicated to your existence. I know how much you’ve wondered about who you are, perhaps you have hidden curse techniques too."

Your breath catches in your throat. A whole encyclopaedia? Dedicated to you? The mere thought of it makes your pulse quicken, a flood of curiosity swirling in your chest. For so long, you’ve been in the dark about your origins, your purpose. And now, Suguru is offering you the chance to finally uncover it.

But of course, there’s a catch.

"You’re serious?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the excitement bubbling beneath the surface. "You’d really give me that information if I help you?"

He nods, his gaze unwavering. "Do good by me, and I’ll make sure you get your answers. But in the meantime, you have to take care of the girls." He leans back, his tone becoming lighter again, "Give the girls a chance. They’re not so bad, once you get used to them."

You glance away, the prospect of looking after Nanako and Mimiko still unappealing, but the promise of information... that changes everything. For a moment, you imagine the power you could gain if you knew your full history, your true self. It would unlock parts of you that have been dormant for far too long.

"I’ll do it," You murmur, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he’s gotten under your skin. But Suguru knows you well enough to recognize the spark of interest in your eyes despite your shy gaze avoiding his direction.

"Good," He says softly, his voice a mixture of satisfaction and promise. "I knew you’d come around. We’re going to change this world, you and me. It'll be the perfect world, and it’ll be your revenge, death’s revenge." He pauses, giving you one last grin before turning to leave. "Oh, and one more thing," He adds over his shoulder, "they really love braiding hair. So just... keep that in mind."

You roll your eyes as he walks away, but a small part of you can’t help but smile despite yourself. Death’s revenge sounds good. You’re back for good, you're back by his side, and no one will be able to stop you two.

—

Feel.

The soft duvet envelops your cold, restless body, the plush fabric wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. You don’t need sleep, not like humans do, yet the comfort of the futon calls to you, coaxing you into its warmth. It’s a luxury you’ve never known, a strange indulgence. He had given you everything: robes of silk and satin, both kimono and yukata, each more delicate and ornate than the last, embroidered with the most intricate of details. Marigolds, red spider lilies, and wolfsbane adorn them. The accessories, the care, the thoughtfulness… it was all new to you. No one had ever treated you this way, with such tenderness, as though you were more than a weapon, more than a curse. For the first time, you felt... like a human, a person.

The warm light of the morning sun creeps through the shoji screens, caressing your skin. The sensation is foreign yet welcome, like the sun itself has chosen to bless you with its touch. Waking up never felt so good before, so serene. Every morning felt like a new beginning, the softness of the world around you contrasting the hardness of your past.

But no... feel.

This is different. There’s something stirring inside you now, a sensation you can’t explain, unfamiliar and unsettling. It isn't just the comfort of the robes, the warmth of the futon, or the sun on your skin. No, this is deeper, creeping through you, uninvited. Something that wasn't there before. Something that... shouldn’t be there, that was never there until now. You can’t place it, can’t name it. But it gnaws at you, especially when you catch the small moments—when he looks at you with a softness you can’t explain, when his voice is gentle, almost kind. The way he treats you, not like a curse, not like a servant. But like someone who matters.

A strange and unsettling warmth blossoms in your chest. It is foreign and unnerving, because it’s unfamiliar. You shake the feeling, try to ignore it, try to rationalise it. You’ve never felt anything like this. Not as a curse, not as something meant to destroy. This is something else, something fragile and alien to you.

Is this what they call... affection? Could that be it? Could you– no, it can’t be. You’ve never felt this way before, never even thought yourself capable of it. You’re feeling something, something dangerous, something you never experienced before in your lifetime. Something that is pulling you toward him, even as you try to resist it.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not sure if you want to resist it anymore.

And for the first time, you're terrified of yourself.

[youssefguedira]

i may not have considered guedira/lupin before now but there are. some sequences. in this season. that are so

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[hoshifighting]

Villain! Seungcheol

— Synopsis: After facing constant rejection from your own boyfriend, you discover he’s a superhero flying around the city. Seungcheol, the so-called 'villain,' stepped in when you were left as bait, exposed to your boyfriend's enemies. It turns out, he's the one who truly took care of you. — WC: 13k — WARNINGS: fantasy, angst, smut, crack, cigarettes, stalking (for good), physical fights, injury, murder, death (not the reader, not seungcheol), paranormal elements (superpowers, misshapenness, telepathy, and floating), moral ambiguity (unclear distinctions between "heroes" and "villains"), sex toys, oral (f. & m.), getting caught masturbating, cock riding, edging, creampie, DIRTY TALK.

You’ve dated a guy from the basketball team in high school, a guy from the cafeteria you used to frequent, and had your flings with… normal people. Gym rats or those who sang at the local bar.

But never... a hero? 

He was kind, and romantic, and treated you well—in the beginning of your relationship. But then he became distant, always desperate to go home at night, barely sleeping at your apartment. You thought about a whirlwind of things, like a normal person would think of; that he was cheating on you, that he had stopped loving you.

Tonight, you’re making dinner—a last-ditch effort to please him, to make him notice you again. The TV in the living room is tuned to the news, the background noise almost comforting. You chop vegetables with precise, almost robotic movements, your mind drifting.

“He’s probably just busy,” you mutter to yourself, trying to believe it. But it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling in your chest.

Just then, a headline on the TV catches your attention. You glance up, expecting to see something mundane. Maybe an officer, a firefighter, or even a regular person with good sociology. Instead, you see your boyfriend, wearing a red hero cape, flying around the city. The spatula in your hand falls directly onto the ground, clattering loudly.

[Hero is seen flying between skyscrapers to make the city of Seoul increasingly safer.]

“What the...?” Your heart races as you stare at the screen, unable to believe your eyes. 

Your boyfriend, the man you’ve been worrying over, is a fucking superhero? Just like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy? 

The front door opens and he walks in, looking tired but carrying the same gentle smile that used to make your heart flutter. Tonight, though, it only fuels your confusion and frustration.

“Hey, babe,” he says, stepping into the kitchen. He pauses when he sees your expression, the dropped spatula. “What’s wrong?”

You point at the TV, unable to form words. He follows your gaze, and his face falls as he sees the news footage.

“Ah, you found out,” he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

[...]

This is how it started. It's as if, when you didn't know, he still made a point of being present here and there. But now that you know, he doesn't even care about it anymore. “I have to save the country, love,” you’ve heard this a bunch of times. 

So when you turn on the TV, you have to see him flexing those stupid big muscles—that he gained out of nowhere—making you doubt if he’s using padding or prosthetics under that cheesy costume.

He shouldn’t be seen around your house, so the 'villains' don’t know where you live.

You don't recognize him anymore. Was it egotistical to wish that he never had superpowers? That he was just a regular human, just like you?

"Hey," his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. He's standing in the doorway, looking worn out but with a familiar, almost hesitant smile. "I brought takeout. Thought we could have a quiet night in."

You glance at the food in his hands, your heart aching. "A quiet night in? Like the ones we used to have?"

He sighs, setting the bags down on the table. "Yeah, like those. I know things have been... different. But I'm trying, Y/N. I really am."

"Trying?" you repeat, incredulous. "You disappear for days, and when you’re here, it’s like you’re not really here. You're always thinking about the next mission, the next villain."

"I know," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "The powers, the responsibility... it just happened."

"Did it?" you snap, unable to hold back your frustration. "Because it feels like you chose this. Like you chose being a hero over being with me."

His eyes widen, pain flickering across his face. "That's not true. I didn't choose this over you. I chose this because... because I want to make the world a better place. For us."

You shake your head, "But what about making our world better? What about being here, with me? Being present?"

As you sit down to eat, the TV plays in the background, another heroic feat being broadcasted. You hesitate, looking at the man you once knew so well, now feeling like a stranger.

With great insistence, you managed to make him sleep in your bed. When you left the bath to join him in your sheets, he was already sleeping—hibernating, snoring like never before. You sigh, laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. You stayed like this until you saw the perfect clouds through the window, fluffy, looking like cotton candy, with the blue sky painting a canvas behind them. It was a beautiful morning.

You don’t remember leaving the window open, so you get up to close it, stopping the wind from hitting your face. The sun was radiating, and you could see people enjoying their morning. But still... why do you feel this smell of storm coming?

The water started to flow, not from the sky, but from your eyes—your tears. The next storm is the one inside you, making small whirlwinds and huge hurricanes, carrying you and destroying you. Obviously, your boyfriend wasn't home. His smell wasn’t there, his presence was like bills payable, only at the end of the month.

You made your bed, some of your tears ruining the perfect white duvet. You walked around your kitchen, picking up the single coffee mug on your countertop and washing it.

Your coworkers noticed your face—like you had slept nothing last night—and even asked what was happening. How could you explain this? How could you explain that you were dating a guy for some years, and he turned into a superhero—flying around the city with underwear over the costume?

Of course, they would laugh, not only because it's the biggest turnoff they will ever have seen, but also because they would think it's a joke, a badly told joke. It makes you feel even more stupid for being complicit, an extra in his comic book.

You arrive home. You look at the window, open again. You roll your eyes, closing it to prevent the wind from coming in. “Are you flying through my windows now?” you mumble, half expecting an answer.

You wonder if you should watch the news again, and see your boyfriend flex his muscles in front of the pretty journalist, putting out a fire in an establishment, looking at the camera to see if they've captured his heroic act, or when he carried a mail car with one arm in front of a group of girls who were walking on the sidewalk. 

You cringe, remembering all of them.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you plop down and grab the remote. You flick through the channels, each news report showing another heroic deed of his. "Great," you mutter sarcastically, landing on a channel where he’s giving an interview, his muscles practically bursting out of his suit.

He’s talking about his latest rescue, grinning at the journalist who’s batting her eyelashes at him. "And what’s next for our hero?" she asks, her voice sugary sweet.

"I’m just here to help," he replies, flashing a charming smile. "Wherever I’m needed."

You snort, turning off the TV. "Right, wherever you're needed. Except here," you say to the empty room.

You wander into the kitchen, the silence pressing in on you. You fill the kettle and set it to boil, needing something warm to soothe your frayed nerves. As you wait, you think about the early days, when he was just a guy you loved. Back when his biggest concern was making you laugh, not saving the world.

The kettle whistles, and you pour yourself a cup of tea, the steam rising in lazy spirals. You take a sip, leaning against the counter. "Why can’t you just be normal?" You whisper to yourself.

A sudden whoosh of air makes you jump, causing your hand to bump into the kettle. The same speed you touched it, you yank your hand back, a little burn forming. It’s nothing too serious, but enough to make you curse under your breath.

Your boyfriend widens his eyes and rushes over. “Let me help you,” he says, reaching for your hand.

“Fuck off,” you snap, pulling away. “I don’t need your help.”

He frowns, clearly hurt. How can someone not want his help? “I’m just trying to help.” his voice laced with exasperation.

Irritated by everything and the little burn on your hand, you cut him off. “What are you going to do, huh? Use lasers from your eyes?” You turn to the sink, running cold water over your hand.

“You’re always complaining,” he starts, his voice rising. “But you’re so difficult to deal with lately.”

You whip around, glaring at him. “Difficult? Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

He crosses his arms, his expression turning snobbish. “And it’s a walk in the park for me? I’m out there saving lives.”

“Yeah, and flexing your muscles for the cameras,” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He narrows his eyes. “You’re never supportive. All you do is whine about how hard your life is.”

You feel your blood boil. “Supportive? How can I be supportive when you’re never here? When you act like being a hero is the only thing that matters?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “Because it does matter! I’m making a difference.”

“And what about us?” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “What about making a difference here, with me?”

He looks at you, anger and confusion on his face. “I’m trying to balance it, but you’re making it impossible.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “You know what? I wish you never turned into a hero. I wish you never had these stupid superpowers. I preferred it when you were just human, like me.”

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to be weak like you humans anymore. You’re just jealous when you should be cheering for me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Jealous? Is that really what he thinks? “Jealous?” you echo. “I’m not jealous. I just miss the person you used to be.”

He shakes his head, looking away. “I’m still that person. You’re just too blind to see it.”

"Blind? Are you fucking serious?" you scoff, turning your back to him. "Leave," you grunt.

He furrows his eyebrows, shocked. Never in your relationship did he think he would see you like this—his cute girlfriend who begged for him to stay just one more minute, asking him to leave?

"I'm not going to repeat it," you say coldly. "You're making me feel sick."

"Fuck you then!" he curses under his breath before he storms out, leaving you stiff in the middle of your kitchen.

"Oof, I wouldn't let him get away with it if I were you."

You turn toward the voice, coming from the window—that one that you had to close again even though you already did in the morning. 

A man is sitting there with the help of the fire escape stairs outside the building. He’s dressed all in black, and you can’t even distinguish how many layers of clothing he’s wearing. His hair is black, and he has one eyebrow raised as he smokes a cigarette.

People react differently when scared. Some scream, some run. But you… you feel like your feet are glued to the ground, and from your throat, not a sound escapes. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as your eyes widen in shock. 

He doesn’t seem to care. He drops his cigarette, watching it accidentally fall on someone’s head below.

He hisses, "Ooh, sorry about that." Then he jumps from the window, landing gracefully in your living room as he brushes off his shoulders.

“You know, you should be more careful when locking your windows. You’re the superhero’s girlfriend, I mean—ex-girlfriend now, I suppose. It seems like he didn’t teach you some basic security stuff.” He looks around your apartment, studying it. “I even drank a coffee in your Hello Kitty mug yesterday—”

“Who the fuck are you?” you cut him off, your voice finally finding its strength.

He raises his hand mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you.” He smirks, glancing at the mug on the counter. “Nice collection, by the way. Just here to talk”

"Talk?" you echo, incredulous. "You break into my apartment, drink my coffee, and now you want to talk?"

He smirks, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, something like that. Seems like your boyfriend left you in quite a state.''’

You cross your arms defensively. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity?” he chuckles. “No, I just find it interesting. You’re dating the city’s golden boy, and yet here you are, all alone. Doesn’t quite add up, does it?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your boyfriend’s activities. And you,” he says, pointing at you, “are a fascinating part of that equation.”

You scoff, still on edge. “Fascinating? What’s so fascinating about being left behind?”

He smiles, a glint of devilishness in his eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe even... enjoy the freedom a little.” He winks, heading back toward the window.

As he climbs out, he turns back one last time. “Oh, and lock your windows. You never know who might drop by.” With that, he disappears into the night, leaving you standing there, more confused and unsettled than ever.

You move to the window and lock it firmly, your heart pounding.

Your boyfriend had warned you that this might happen, and it happened at the worst time—when he wasn’t there. 

Honestly, you couldn’t sleep that night either, now worried that a fucking stranger could break into your apartment, and instead of just drinking a coffee, he might bake a whole cake in your kitchen or, worse, do something to you.

So, you do what a ludic person would do. You start packing an emergency bag and ask to sleep at your friend’s house, using the excuse that you’ve broken up with your boyfriend—when in fact, you were more scared than anything.

[...] 

More terrifying was when you needed to return home. 

You open your front door, putting the bag on the floor. Before you can turn around to close the door, a hand clasps over your mouth, and the door behind you closes. You feel a warm body pressing against yours as you close your eyes tightly. 

It’s your end, you think.

You don’t even dare to open your eyes. When the hand is removed from your mouth, all you can mutter is, “Don’t hurt me, please.”

You hear a scoff, and then you open one eye. The person takes his hood off, revealing the same guy from the window. 

“Are you stupid? Why would I want to hurt you? I’m not a coward.” He detaches from you, looking at your still-squeezed form. “Where were you? And you did a great job locking the other windows, but your laundry window was not locked.”

You can only stare at him, your heart racing. He rolls his eyes. “Can you stop being a pissy little girl? You’re a grown woman. I’ve told you I’m not going to hurt you, and if it comforts you, I won’t steal your mug collection either. Maybe some coffee powder—but, well, can you stop?”

You think you’re going crazy. Was all of this supposed to be normal? 

He rolls his eyes again and disappears into your kitchen. You take small, shy—and scared—steps toward the kitchen to find him using your coffee machine, watching the coffee brew. His arms are propped on the counter, and he turns his head to look at you. 

He sighs, seeing your still-compressed form, like you’re still scared of his presence.

“Seriously,” he says, straightening up. “I’m not here to hurt you. You need to relax.” He takes a mug from your collection and pours himself a coffee, casually leaning against the counter as if he belongs there.

“What do you want from me?” you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling.

He takes a sip of coffee, savoring it before answering. “Just checking in. Making sure you’re okay. Your boyfriend isn’t exactly around to protect you, is he?”

You glare at him. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

He smirks, clearly amused. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He sets the mug down and steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “But here’s the thing—you’re involved now, whether you like it or not.”

You swallow hard, trying to hold your ground. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Too late,” he replies, his tone serious. “You’re already part of it. So, you might as well get used to it.”

You begin to shiver as his words sink in. This is your life now, tangled up with heroes and villains. And there’s no going back.

He sighs, seeing the fear in your eyes. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed up for. But you’re tougher than you think. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, whatever—he’s not around, and that puts you in a vulnerable position.”

“You mean, you’re here to spy on me. To see if you can use me against him.”

He shrugs. “I'm here ensure you’re not caught in the crossfire. Believe it or not, I have some principles.”

You laugh bitterly. “Principles? Breaking into someone’s home and terrorizing them is principled now?”

He sets the cup down and steps closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But you need to be more careful. This world you’re tangled in—it’s dangerous.”

You stare at him, unsure whether to believe him. “And you’re what, my guardian angel now?”

He smirks. “Hardly. Think of me as a… concerned party. I don’t want unnecessary casualties.” “Stay out of trouble. Keep your head down.”

With that, he finishes his coffee and heads toward the window. “Remember, I'm not your enemy, but I'm definitely his. Don't make me your enemy too.”

"Wait!" you call out. He stops and turns around slowly, his expression curious. "W-who are you?" you stammer.

He tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Do you really want to know?" he asks, his tone dripping with mocking curiosity.

You nod, trying to keep your voice steady. "You’re practically living here. I should at least know your name."

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "More like a roommate situation, huh? Alright, if you really want to know, you can call me Seungcheol. And if you’re genuinely interested in what I do, maybe I’ll take you to my HQ someday, show you my plans."

You grimace at his tone, which only makes him laugh harder. 

Before heading down the emergency stairs, he looks back at you. "Stay close, alright? I need to keep tabs on you. You’re a bit exposed out here." He winks and disappears, leaving you standing there, more confused than before.

Seungcheol—the window guy, as you’d come to call him—disappeared physically for some days, but his presence lingered in odd, unsettling ways. You started finding pieces of ripped paper around your house, each with a different message.

“Keep your windows locked.”

“Log out of your social media from your home computer.”

“Check your door lock twice before bed.”

“Don’t leave your spare key under the mat.”

And one particularly embarrassing note: “I know you miss your hero-boyfriend, but can you also hide your sex toys? I’m traumatized.”

The embarrassment lasts only a few minutes each time, but then you think, nobody asked him to keep coming into your house. Still, there was a strange sense of security in knowing he was keeping an eye on things, even if his methods were invasive and borderline creepy.

Days turn into a week, and the silence feels heavy. 

You find yourself almost missing the bizarre meetings. One night, as you’re cleaning up after dinner, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. You draw the curtains aside to find Seungcheol lounging casually on the fire escape, looking like he belonged there.

“Miss me?” he quips, flashing you a smirk.

You roll your eyes, opening the window slightly. “You really need to get a hobby, Seungcheol.”

“This is my hobby,” he says, slipping inside without an invitation. “Keeping tabs on you is surprisingly entertaining.”

“You know, you could at least pretend not to notice my vibrator,” you snap, half-joking, half-mortified.

Seungcheol grins, “Hey, it’s hard to miss when it’s just lying around. You could be more discreet.”

You huff in annoyance, continuing to clean up. He opens your fridge, rummaging around like he owns the place. “Any news?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He casually bites into an apple. “Yep. One of his enemies is planning to invade your place tomorrow at 7:48 p.m. The exact time you get home from work.”

You spin around, eyes wide. “What?! What do I do?”

“I suggest you stay close to me,” he shrugs. “I can keep you safe, make sure no one uses you as a pawn.”

“You want me to trust you?” you ask, incredulous.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to have some alien freak shoving its tentacles down your throat?”

You give him an exasperated look. “I knew you’d have this reaction,” he says, shrugging. He places a flash drive on your kitchen counter. “Watch it yourself.”

You close your eyes, massaging your temples. You don’t know if you’re ready to see what’s on that flash drive, much less trust a stranger who claims to be your ex-boyfriend’s enemy. 

“I need you to leave. Even if he’s my ex, I still can’t do something like this.”

Seungcheol nods, looking up like he expected this. “Your boyfriend won’t be here to rescue you if that’s what you’re counting on.”

“How can you be so sure of that? I don’t even know you!”

“Because if your stupid boyfriend didn’t buy those superpowers, he’d be nothing. Without that silly red cape and the TV cameras, he’s just an insecure guy who wants to be seen. And— come on, he didn’t care about the girlfriend he had waiting at home. You think he cares about saving random people? Don’t be dumb.”

His words sting, and you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. He nods negatively as he walks out again, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words sinking in. You don’t want to believe him, but deep down, you know there’s some truth to what he’s saying.

With a sigh, you look at the flash drive on the counter. 

The next day was a mess from the moment you woke up. You couldn't find your white shirt, and your baby liss was nowhere to be found. Running late, you had to leave without fixing your hair. 

Work was a blur of you staring blankly at your computer screen, your mind preoccupied with the fear that some tentacle monster might actually show up at 7:48 p.m.

Were you being stupid for believing a guy you met barely a week ago? Absolutely. But who wouldn't be a little suspicious?

As you stepped off the bus and walked along the sidewalk toward your building, your watch read 7:58 p.m. You glanced up at your window. The lights were off, and everything looked normal. No way a villain would get you, right?

"I knew he was lying," you mutter quietly to yourself, almost convincing.

But your conviction didn’t last long. A massive purple tentacle exploded through your living room window, sending concrete and bricks crashing to the street. Your eyes widened in disbelief. Was that a person in the middle of those giant tentacles? Were you homeless now?

"Are you gonna hop on or let these ugly tentacles suffocate you?" Seungcheol’s voice cuts through the chaos.

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. You turned to see him in his black outfit, waiting on his motorcycle. Your instinct was to kneel on the ground and cry about your now-destroyed apartment, but you didn't have time for that.

You sulked a bit before grabbing the helmet from his hand and hopping onto the bike, your hands wrapping uncertainly around his waist.

As Seungcheol sped off towards his HQ—or hideout, whatever it was—your tears started to flow. "My apartment... it's ruined. All my stuff, my mug collection, my unicorn pajamas I didn’t even get to wear yet," you whined into his back.

Seungcheol fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Seriously? We're running from a monster, and you're worried about unicorn pajamas?"

“Yes!” you sniffled. “They were so cute. And now I don’t even have a place to sleep. My place is ruined, and all my goods are probably destroyed.”

“Focus on staying alive first,” he said, trying to sound more patient than he felt. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“But my mugs… My unicorn pajamas…” you continued, your voice muffled against his back.

“Alright, alright,” he said, trying to placate you. 

Seungcheol had to concentrate to keep from crashing as he listened to you cry and whine about your lost belongings. He knew you were overwhelmed, and though it was annoying, he understood. Reaching his hideout, he finally stopped the bike and helped you off, letting you lean on him for support.

Your first instinct is to look around. It’s a large industrial loft, the walls made of bricks, and the long windows hidden behind some opaque plastic. 

The place seems to have only the essentials: a large bed with a vintage headboard, a couch, a TV. Turning around, you notice the kitchen has a coffee machine just like yours. 

Then your eyes widen as you spot familiar items: the white shirt you were looking for this morning, poking out of a huge black bag, a big box labeled 'mugs’ in bad calligraphy, your hair iron with the princess tape patch on the cord, emerging from another black bag. 

Several bags are sprawled on the floor, all looking ready to burst.

"M-my things!" you squeak as Seungcheol looks unbothered, though you can see the faintest hint of a smile at your happiness. You run to him, giving him a clumsy hug that he doesn’t reciprocate, before opening the bags.

"It was very difficult to bring all of your stuff," he says, trying to hide his amusement. "Can I know why you have three... inflatable flamingos all the same color?" he asks, clearly judging the quirky items he found while gathering your things from your dresser.

You don’t respond, too busy rifling through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning. 

You open another bag with a big smile on your face, which quickly fades when you see what’s on top: your vibrator, handcuffs, and lube. 

You widen your eyes and try to close the bag with an awkward smile, but it’s too late. Seungcheol turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath as if trying to pretend he wasn’t the one who had to gather your spicy stuff.

You clear your throat, standing up and brushing off your knees. “When did you get all of this? I mean—how did you do it so quickly?”

"Some friends helped me," he answers, watching your reaction. 

You widened your eyes, and he knew why. 

“Chill out, I packed your Christian Grey stuff myself,” he said, looking up as if remembering something. “And what's with that neon green, dildo? Seriously?”

You stuttered, your face flushed. “I-I didn’t use that, it was a gag gift!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to know,” he said, cutting you off with a furrowed brow.

“That’s… oddly considerate of you,” you admitted, still processing everything.

He shrugged again, “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a nice guy.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it.”

You sighed, “Thanks, I guess. It’s just… embarrassing.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve seen worse,” he shrugged.

“Worse than a neon green dildo?”

He chuckled, “You’d be surprised.”

You point at the large industrial loft around you. “So, this is your place?”

"Not as fancy as yours, but, yes, it is," Seungcheol responds, shrugging nonchalantly.

You shake your head, still taking in the surroundings. "I wouldn’t call my place fancy. Just... more pink."

He chuckles, nodding. "Yeah, I noticed. You have a thing for unicorns and pastels."

You look around, taking in the mix of sparse furniture and personal touches. "Why do you have my stuff, anyway?"

He leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Had to make sure you had everything. Can't have you running back to your place and getting into trouble."

You shake your head, still in disbelief. "You really don’t look like a villain."

He scoffs, giving you a sideways glance. "That's because I don't have a red cape? You don’t look this naughty either. I discovered it in the worst way."

You try to slap his shoulder playfully, but he catches your hand with his quick reflexes, smirking as he lets go and starts walking toward the loft above. You follow him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Different from your boyfriend, I don’t need muscle superpowers to be relevant,” he says, glancing back at you as he ascends the stairs.

You glance around as you reach the upper level, which is filled with computers, chemistry equipment, and some jackets thrown randomly around. "So, what exactly do you do here?"

"Let's just say I have my ways of keeping an eye on things," he replies, tapping on one of the computer screens. "Information is power, you know."

You nod slowly. "And what's your plan with all this power?"

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your question. "That depends. What do you think I should do with it?"

You let out a nervous laugh. "I'm not exactly an expert on villainous plots."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Relax, I'm not planning world domination. Just...taking care of some business."

You tilt your head, still trying to piece everything together. "And what kind of business would that be?"

He sighs, looking frustrated at you—but trying to be patient. "Let's just say there are a lot of things that need fixing, and sometimes you have to break a few rules to get it done."

You frown, thinking about his words. "And my ex-boyfriend...does he know about any of this?"

Seungcheol shrugs. "He knows I exist, but he doesn't know the details. Probably too busy flexing for the cameras."

You can’t help but smile. "Yeah, he’s definitely good at that."

Seungcheol looks at you seriously. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but trust me, it’s better you know the truth. You can’t go back to being ignorant."

"So, what do we do? I can't just hide forever."

Seungcheol sits on the edge of a desk, looking thoughtful. "You’re here because you’re vulnerable—"

"Vulnerable?" you interrupt, crossing your arms. "You make it sound like I’m helpless."

Seungcheol stops for a moment, looking at you blankly. 

"Think fast!" he says suddenly, throwing a sock ball in your direction. You instinctively step back, catching the ball, but your back overtakes the loft railing. 

Seungcheol gets up from his chair, moving swiftly to grip you tightly before you fall to the floor below. You go static as you look at him, his hands firm on your waist, grounding you.

"You're good at catching," he says, glancing at the sock in your hand. "But you need to have a better sense of space."

Your heart pounds, both from the near fall and his closeness. "What was that for?"

He releases you, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "Training. If you’re going to stay here, you need to be alert."

You nod. "Okay, but maybe warn me next time?"

He chuckles, stepping back to give you some space. "Where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes, tossing the sock ball back at him. He catches it effortlessly. "So, what’s the plan? How do I learn to protect myself?"

Seungcheol tilts his head, considering. "I don't know... Maybe some basic self-defense? For example, if i do this—" He moves quickly, throwing a punch towards you—not to hit, but to test your reaction.

You manage to dodge, but not gracefully. He smiles. "Not bad for a beginner. We'll keep working on that."

[...]

You still miss your apartment, and a lot of your things are still in bags, which you pick through only when you need something. You always wondered what really happened in movies when heroes destroyed the whole city during battles. Now, you’re experiencing it firsthand. Your apartment is being repaired by the building’s construction company, with help from insurance. So, more days living with Seungcheol.

It’s not bad. It’s strange, for someone used to being alone at home. He leaves at night, just like your ex-boyfriend, but spends more of his days in the loft—more than your ex-boyfriend ever did. 

He’s actually teaching you something useful. The two of you spar in the loft, not even needing to move furniture since there isn’t much. And he’s hard on you.

You support your hands on your knees, panting, while he looks untouched. "C’mon! Are you tired already?"

You straighten up, mocking his tone. "Unfortunately, my ex who fights around didn’t give me a preview of how to box."

He puts his hands on his hips. "Your boyfriend doesn’t know how to fight. He only has his powers to his advantage."

“You didn't watch what was on the flash drive, did you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

He sighs and asks you to come up. He sits you in his chair, in front of his computer, and opens a folder. There’s a video of your boyfriend inside a laboratory. It looks very old.

"I need more than just strength and flight," your boyfriend says in the video, addressing what looks like a scientist. "We’ve been studying this for years. My time has come."

“Are you sure? There’s no turning back,” the scientist asks.

“I’m sure. I can’t keep living this mediocre life,” your boyfriend replies.

“But what about the people around you? They’re at risk,” the scientist says.

Your ex-boyfriend's response breaks your heart, though you can’t deny it fits his recent arrogance. "I don’t care. I need this."

The scientist sighs and then injects several different colored serums into your ex’s body. He groans, and as he begins to levitate, the video blurs and turns off.

You stare at the blank screen, processing the information. Seungcheol leans back, giving you space.

"See what I mean?" he says. "He wasn’t thinking about you, or anyone else. Just himself."

“So, he chose this. He actually wanted this.”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah, he did. It wasn’t some accident or noble cause. He was just desperate to be more than he was.”

You sit back, processing the information. “He used to be so different. I don’t even recognize him anymore.”

“That’s what power does to some people,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the desk. “It changes them.”

Seungcheol’s screens start to beep urgently, pulling his attention away from you. He walks calmly to the other side of the room to grab his jacket. The steady rhythm of his movements contrasts with the beeping noises filling the space. 

He’s about to leave again when he pauses, his back facing you.

You watch him, restless, pacing back and forth as your mind churns over the recent revelations. His peripheral vision catches your agitation. He glances sideways, noticing the anxiousness in your steps.

He moves towards the door, then hesitates and turns back. “If you need anything, just—”

“Yeah, I know. Just call you, right?” You finish his sentence, giving him a small, knowing smile.

He smirks, nodding. “Exactly. Stay put. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he leaves the loft, the door closing behind him. 

You knew Seungcheol would arrive home late, and you needed to calm down. Unfortunately, the last bottle of wine was finished yesterday when you couldn't find anything else to drink with your popcorn. 

Sweets maybe? Well, a villain’s house would have sweets? No, just as you thought. The only thing left was a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen counter.

You find yourself on the rooftop of Seungcheol's loft, the cigarette smoke filling your lungs and burning your throat. You didn’t like the smell of cigarettes and coughed every time the smoke filled your lungs. 

But that’s what you had to dissolve a bit of your anxiety, your last moments with your ex replaying in your mind. So he never cared at all?

Suddenly, your cigarette is slapped out of your hand. You turn around to see your ex, his costume perfect, but his eyes deep and face scarred.

“This is what Seungcheol has taught you then? Aren’t you ashamed?” He sneers.

You open your mouth to answer, but he comes closer, making you flinch.

He scoffs. “What? You’re scared of me? Let me tell you something... He is the villain. And you’ve joined his side, my enemy, after all we had.” He spits the words out with venom.

Rage boils within you, making you feel not like yourself. “Seungcheol took care of me. If I were alone, I would be dead. You don’t know what kind of superpower this is.”

He grabs your arm, making you feel dizzy, your vision cloudy. The pain is intense and senseless.

“What? You thought a villain would help you? You’re fragile. You need attention so bad that I couldn’t even handle you.” You fall to the ground, the pain spreading through your body as you groan.

“You know what? If you think he’s going to be your enchanted prince, you’re wrong. So damn wrong. The chances of him wanting to kill you are greater than that stupid dream of yours—”

You hear an impact, and the dizziness and pain slowly dissipate. You breathe properly again. When you come back to your senses, you look up to see Seungcheol, fighting with your ex. Seungcheol is taking a beating, only advancing when your ex's power falters, like a lag.

You could leave sneakily, but was it right? Seungcheol literally protected you from your own ex, showed you his true colors, and taught you the best of himself. Even though he is cold and "cruel" as they say.

As you're thinking, a glass sound pulls you from your mind. It's an injection. 

You see your ex crawling desperately to get it. Seungcheol gives you an exasperated look, signaling for you to pick it up. 

You grab it, walking back as your ex roars for you to leave it. You clutch it in your fist and, in a moment of desperation, inject it into your leg.

Your ex widens his eyes. But the substance is too powerful for you. You fall again, the pain overwhelming you.

He laughs, but Seungcheol is on him, beating him relentlessly. The fight intensifies, Seungcheol’s blows becoming more furious. You can barely focus on their struggle, the pain in your leg is consuming your thoughts.

The injection burns through your veins, making you feel like you’re on fire. You clench your teeth, trying to endure it. Your ex's laughter turns into cries of pain as Seungcheol lands a particularly harsh blow.

Seungcheol’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you see the determination in them. He’s fighting for you, protecting you with everything he has.

Seungcheol pauses, turning his attention away from you as the hero rises once more, clearly summoning his last reserves of strength.

Seungcheol stands confidently, knowing he has a chance to defeat him—if only he weren't standing on the edge of the building. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t possess flying superpowers. Instead, he grips the edge of the building with nothing but the strength of his fingers, looking up at the hero who towers above him.

Yet, Seungcheol has one special superpower, the reason he's considered the villain: the ability to listen to those who need help, like an echo in his mind. He hears the calls for aid and responds in his own way, without the expensive, extraneous superpowers the heroes pay billions for. 

Unlike them, who need to buy their abilities, Seungcheol was born with his. He helps those living on the margins of society, without seeking fame or recognition. He doesn’t want to appear on TV or in the news.

Inside the heroes' world, he is well recognized, but without the money and science they have.

Seungcheol has nothing in his favor. 

Yet, he still manages to help people. They can’t understand him. And hate can come easily to that which is too remembered.

His body can't manage more than this—more than his telepathy. 

If it could, he wouldn’t be in this situation. He’s going to end up like this. His death won’t be caused by a big octopus or a giant RoboCop, as other heroes did. But by a great show of charity. He would do it for any citizen, but the fact that it’s you makes him have no regrets at all.

Seungcheol’s fingers start to slip, and he knows his time is running out. The hero stands above him, a look of triumph on his face. But Seungcheol’s mind is calm, even serene. He’s made peace with his fate.

The hero moves closer, ready to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, Seungcheol’s telepathy kicks in stronger than ever. He hears the cries of the people he’s saved, their voices filling his mind.

He has always fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, without the need for glory or recognition. 

The world may see him as a villain, but he knows the truth. 

His life has been a quiet rebellion, a stand against the notion that only the powerful can be heroes. 

Seungcheol's mind becomes silent, and he can only hear your groans. His eyes close as he tries to hear from you again.

“Y/N?” he telepathizes, his voice entering your mind, velvet and deep.

You groan again, and he asks. “I’m here... are you alright, my love? Can you walk?”

The affectionate nickname makes your heart flutter. Seungcheol agonizes when the hero's steps on his fingers, but he agonizes more because he can't hear a proper response from you. Desperation sets in.

“Answer me, please. I’m not going to last,” he telepathizes again.

“Seungcheol...” he hears your voice and breathes out, relief washing over him. He looks down, watching the movement on the street below. It was too much of a drop to survive. His fingers were burning with pain.

“Seungcheol...” you call again. He shuts his eyes, clinging to the sound of your voice. “Let go,” you tell him. The words hit him like a jolt. He doesn’t understand. His arms tremble with the effort of holding on.

“Trust me, trust me, trust me.” He hears it like a whisper around his head. The conviction in your voice pierces through his fear. 

He loosens his grip, his fingers slipping from the edge.

The air envelops his body like a hug as he falls, the distortion from the speed making the street sounds blur into a cacophony. The only thing he can think of is how you’re going to live by yourself now.

As he falls, memories flash before his eyes. He remembers every face he saved, every life he touched, his quiet acts of heroism, every moment of your brief time together, and then, vividly, your face. 

He thinks of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. 

The moment Seungcheol hits the ground, he expects the pain, the end. Instead, he feels a strange warmth spreading through his body. He blinks, realizing he’s lying on a soft cushion of air, suspended just above the pavement. The hero stares down in disbelief.

Seungcheol’s body is gently lowered to the ground. He looks up to see you standing on the rooftop, your hand outstretched, eyes closed in fierce concentration. As his feet touch the ground, your eyes snap open, and you breathe out in relief. 

Before Seungcheol can react, you advance on the hero, the two of you disappearing in a blur of motion and light atop the building.

Blinding flashes illuminate the rooftop as Seungcheol scrambles to his feet, urgency driving him forward. He runs into the building, tripping on the flights of stairs in his haste. The sounds of the battle above echo down to him, and he pushes himself harder, every fiber of his being focused on reaching you in time.

Seungcheol bursts onto the rooftop again, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. The sight that greets him makes his blood run cold. 

Your ex-boyfriend lies lifeless on the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. In your trembling hand, the hero’s heart reactor device glows faintly, now smeared with blood.

“Y/N!” Seungcheol shouts, rushing to your side as your knees give way, collapsing under the weight of what you’ve done. The powers from the injection still course through your veins, but your energy is completely spent. You tremble in his hands, your body feeling like it’s made of lead.

The weight of what you’ve done hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare down at the reactor in your hand, the blood smeared on your fingers, and a violent shudder runs through you. The metallic smell of blood mingles with the acrid scent of smoke, and it’s all too much.

“I never wanted it to end like this,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Your face is frozen in shock, eyes wide and unseeing as you try to process the magnitude of your actions. “I-I’ve killed someone.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, his grip on your shoulders firm yet gentle. “You did what you had to do,” he says, his voice low and steady. “He would’ve killed you, Y/N.”

You shake your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you insist, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to become a killer.”

Seungcheol’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth seeping into your cold, shaking body. “Listen to me,” he says firmly, his lips close to your ear. “You’re not a killer. You’re a survivor. He put you in this position, not the other way around.”

You cling to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you sob uncontrollably. The reactor slips from your grasp, clattering to the ground with a dull thud. “I just wanted to be safe,” you cry, your voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know,” Seungcheol murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “How can you be so sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because you’re strong,” he says simply, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Stronger than you realize. And because I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart ache. Despite everything, there’s a flicker of hope in his gaze that you can’t ignore.

Seungcheol brings you back to his loft, your body feeling heavy and numb. He helps you inside the shower, carefully removing your clothes. You sit on the floor, naked, as the warm water cascades over you, washing away the blood and grime. 

There’s no malice or ulterior motive in his actions—only a quiet, pure care. You stare blankly at the tiles of his shower, lost in your thoughts, while his hands work methodically, washing your hair and scrubbing away the blood stains from your skin.

You needed this. 

The side effects of the injection, the strain of using powers you didn’t fully understand, have left you weak. So weak that you need him to do something as simple as this for you.

Once you’re clean, Seungcheol wraps you in a fluffy towel, drying you carefully. He dresses you in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and comforting against your skin. 

He guides you to his bed, tucking you in. You sink into the mattress, the exhaustion pulling at you like a heavy blanket. Seungcheol sits beside you, watching you for a few minutes. His body aches from the fight, but his concern for you overrides his own pain.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “You need to rest. Let your body recover.”

You nod, closing your eyes. The events of the night replay in your mind, but there’s a strange comfort in knowing Seungcheol is there, watching over you. “You don’t have to stay,” you murmur, feeling a pang of guilt.

“I want to,” he replies softly. “Just sleep, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

As you drift off, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his hand holding yours, grounding you in the midst of the turmoil. The darkness of sleep pulls you under, but for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel completely alone.

He waits for you to fall asleep before quietly moving around the loft, gathering what’s left of your belongings. 

With quick, calculated motions, he loads his things, along with yours, into the trunk and backseat of his truck. The apartment, once filled with traces of both your lives, now stands empty, its furniture the only remnants of your presence.

When he looks at the empty space one last time, he takes a deep breath, then returns to the bedroom. Gently, he lifts you into his arms, careful not to disturb your sleep. 

You’re so exhausted that you don’t stir as he carries you to the truck. His eyes flicker to you now and then as he drives, taking the road that leads to the other side of the country.

Long hours later, the sun starts to rise, casting a golden hue over the landscape. You wake up, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. You find yourself parked outside a roadside restaurant, the car silent. Seungcheol is nowhere to be seen. Sitting up, you notice a blanket draped over you and realize you’re fully dressed, not just in his shirt anymore.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, fingers curling around the edges of the blanket. The sound of footsteps draws your attention, and you see Seungcheol approaching with a box of food in his hands. He opens the car door and slides into the driver’s seat, placing the food on the console between you.

“Hey,” he says softly, glancing at you. “How are you feeling?”

You blink a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Tired,” you admit, your voice still groggy. “Where are we?”

“We’re on the road,” he replies, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you could use some breakfast.” He opens the box, revealing a variety of pastries, fruit, and a couple of sandwiches.

You nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. “Thank you,” you say, taking a bite and savoring the sweet taste. “For everything.”

He watches you eat for a moment before responding. “You needed to get away from there. It’s not safe.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice soft. “But where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” he answers, his tone reassuring. "Somewhere, they won’t find us.”

You look at him, studying his face. There’s a determination in his eyes, a resolve that gives you a sense of security despite the uncertainty of your situation. “Okay,” you say, trusting him.

He nods, his eyes softening. “Finish eating. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

As you pass through small towns and sprawling landscapes, a sense of peace begins to settle over you. The rhythmic hum of the truck and the steady presence of Seungcheol at your side are comforting. 

You share the occasional snack with him, your fingers brushing against his lips, eliciting a small smile from him each time.

As the truck continues down the road, the cityscape starts to take shape on the horizon. Tall buildings stand proud, their windows reflecting the sun’s light. It’s a bustling place, full of life and opportunity.

 It’s everything you’ve been yearning for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

After you arrive, your legs stretch as you step onto the new asphalt. You look around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and ask, “Where are we?”

Seungcheol smiles, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I’m going to show you,” he replies, leading you towards a big, white house. The house stands in stark contrast to the urban scene around it, classic and serene.

You follow him inside, and immediately, you notice people dressed in white moving about with purpose. Some are tending to children, others to elders, each room filled with an atmosphere of care and compassion. It's a place of healing and sanctuary, you realize, a refuge from the chaos you’ve just escaped.

As you walk through the house, you reach a garden at the back. The same people in white are there, playing with the children and dogs, the air filled with laughter and joy. 

You notice a girl in white sitting by an easel, her fingers pressed to her temples. To your amazement, the brush on the canvas moves on its own, guided by her powers.

You stare in awe. “She’s painting without touching the brush,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder.

Seungcheol nods. “Yes, she’s using her powers. This place is a sanctuary for people like her, like us. A safe haven where they can learn to control and use their abilities for good.”

You look around, taking in the peaceful surroundings, the sense of community and support. “It’s beautiful,” you say softly, feeling a sense of hope blossom within you.

The next stop is a small, vintage apartment where you and Seungcheol place your things. The walls are adorned with faded floral wallpaper, and the furniture has a charming, old-fashioned feel. You sit on the living room floor, surrounded by boxes, and trail off, lost in thought.

“So, you’re a hero, not a villain,” you murmur, looking up at Seungcheol.

He pauses, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. “I guess it’s not that simple,” he says, sitting down across from you. “People see what they want to see. To some, I’m a hero. To others, I’m a villain.”

You nod, digesting his words. “But you saved me. You brought me here. That makes you a hero in my book.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “I just did what needed to be done. Sometimes, the line between hero and villain isn’t so clear.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “It’s strange, you know? All this time, I thought I knew who the good guys and the bad guys were. But now… everything’s different.”

He nods, his eyes distant. “Life isn’t a simple story. It’s messy, complicated. People have layers, motives that aren’t always black and white.”

You turn to Seungcheol, who has laid himself out on the living room floor beside you. The gentle hum of the old radiator fills the silence between you as you finally ask the question that's been on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” you say, glancing over at him.

He turns his head to face you, nodding slightly. “Sure. What’s up?”

“How did you meet me?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

Seungcheol sighs, looking up at the ceiling. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he begins, his tone thoughtful. “I first heard you every single night in my head before I even knew where you lived. It started with your thoughts and feelings—your fears, your doubts. I heard them all.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “You heard me in your head?”

He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t know who you were at first, just that there was someone struggling. I could sense your pain and your frustration. It was like an echo in my mind.”

He pauses for a moment, then continues. “When I'vve found you, I started watching the movements in your apartment. I saw you and your boyfriend fighting—a lot. I saw the nights you were left alone...”

You shift uncomfortably, thinking about all the arguments, the hurtful words exchanged. “What did you see?”

“I saw things that were hard to watch. There were nights when your boyfriend would come home drunk, lashing out at you for no reason. I saw him bringing people over, strangers who didn’t have your best interests at heart.”

Your heart aches as you listen. “So, you were watching all of this?”

He nods. “I was. I needed to be sure of what was happening before I intervened. I couldn’t just act without understanding the full picture. He was involved in some dangerous activities, connections with people I didn’t want you to be near.”

He looks at you with a serious expression. “I knew I had to do something. It’s my job, in a way. The place I showed you before, is where people like me come from. We’re spread out across the country, helping those in need.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “So, you felt like you had to save me.”

“Exactly,” he says softly. “It was more than just a job. It was a responsibility. When I saw how much you were suffering, I knew I couldn’t just stand by. I had to step in.”

As you lie there, processing everything Seungcheol has told you, it dawns on you that the man who once seemed so mysterious and distant wasn’t a villain at all. He was the one who sat on your window, smoking and wearing a black outfit, seemingly a shadowy figure. 

He was the one who risked falling from a building to ensure your safety, who gathered your belongings—even your mug collection, and your… dildo—before your apartment was destroyed by an alien.

He was the man who, despite the doubts and fears, saved your life and now laid by your side as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Seungcheol’s presence beside you, so unexpectedly comforting, makes you feel secure in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. His gaze meets yours, a question in his eyes as if trying to decipher the whirlwind of thoughts running through your mind.

Unable to hold back your emotions any longer, you roll over and drape yourself across him like a koala. The sudden weight makes him emit a funny gasp. You both end up laughing, the sound filling the room with warmth. He wraps his arms around you, reciprocating the hug with a soft giggle.

“What?” he asks with a playful smile, his eyes twinkling.

You look up at him, your heart full, and press a soft kiss on his lips. Seungcheol’s eyes flutter closed, and he melts into the kiss, holding your face gently as if he’s been waiting for this moment all along.

But then, he pulls back slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Wait, no, are you sure about this? I mean, you’ve just come out of a… complicated relationship.”

You can see the concern in his eyes, the careful consideration behind his words. “I am sure,” you say softly, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “You’ve been amazing. You’re not a villain, and you’ve shown me what it’s like to be cared for.”

You move to kiss his forehead, then his neck, making him giggle again, his laughter bubbling up despite the seriousness of the conversation. He closes his eyes, savoring each tender kiss, his heart racing with every touch.

“I guess I’m just worried,” he says, his voice a mix of hesitation and affection. “You’ve been through so much. I don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to fill a void or something.”

You shake your head, placing one last kiss on his lips. “You’re not just filling a void. You’re something real and true, and I can feel it.”

“Can you… feel it?” he asks.

You smile against his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to reassure him. “Of course I can,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

The moment your lips meet his again, you notice his reaction is less restrained this time. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as if he’s afraid you might disappear. His kisses grow more passionate, each touch of his lips filled with a desperate need to communicate everything he feels.

You can taste the sweetness of his affection, feel the way he melts into you, and you respond with the same intensity. Your hands explore the familiar contours of his face, as if memorizing every detail, every emotion he's conveying. 

His breath quickens, and you can feel the heat of his skin, the way his entire body seems to respond to you, to the connection that’s unfolding between you both.

He pulls away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked onto yours. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could.”

You brush your lips against his once more, a soft, tender caress. “It’s because it’s real,” you whisper. “It’s something I’ve needed for a long time.”

[...]

If you ever thought your life would change drastically, you never imagined it would be like this. 

When Seungcheol left to handle his tasks for the night, it felt different. The house, though quiet, seemed fuller now.

His presence lingered in the way he had filled it with his energy, his routines, his little touches that made the space feel like more than just four walls. The absence of his constant presence was noticeable, yet somehow, it felt like a comfort.

You wandered around the house, touching things you hadn’t noticed before. There were small, personal details—like a collection of old vinyl records stacked neatly on a shelf, and a set of quirky, handmade coasters on the coffee table. They made the house feel lived in, like a real home.

In the kitchen, you found a note Seungcheol had left on the counter, scrawled in his familiar handwriting: “Pick a movie tonight. I’ll be back soon.” You smiled at the simple gesture, a small piece of normalcy in the midst of the whirlwind you’d been through.

When he arrives at the apartment, the warm aroma of dinner wafts from the stove. He glances around, noticing that the movie on the TV is paused at the very beginning. It’s strange that you’re not here; usually, you’d be curled up on the couch, waiting for him. 

His eyes sweep over the space, and he hangs his jacket on a dining chair, the soft thud of the fabric against the wood mingling with the hum of the refrigerator.

A sudden noise catches his attention—an “Ah!” from somewhere in the apartment. 

Seungcheol freezes, his heart rate quickening. He tilts his head, straining to hear again. The sound came from the bedroom. Curiosity and concern propel him forward as he moves cautiously toward the door.

Pushing the door open just a crack, he peeks inside. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. 

You’re sprawled out on the bed, your legs were spread open in a way that revealed everything. 

Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, and you’re arching back, clearly horny. The vibrator, the very same one he had glimpsed in your old apartment—a sight that had piqued his curiosity—was now pressed tightly against your clit. 

He could see the pleasure etched across your face, the way you bit your lip and gripped the sheets. He hesitated at the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

The sight is so intimate, so raw, that he feels a blend of emotions—desire, awe, and a sense of protectiveness. His initial impulse is to step in, to be there for you, but he’s also painfully aware of how private this moment is.

His own breath hitches as he wrestles with the decision of whether to interrupt or simply stand back. He knows this is a vulnerable part of you, one that you might not be ready to share with him just yet.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, his desire is real as he steps fully into the room. The bulge in his pants is a constant reminder of just how affected he is by the scene unfolding before him. But he pushes past his own need, focusing on you.

He kneels beside the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements that might pull you from your reverie. His fingers, though trembling slightly, are gentle as he reaches for the vibrator. He eases it away from your clit, the sudden absence making you gasp, a sound that’s part surprise, part frustration.

You blink rapidly, trying to catch your breath as you process his presence. Your cheeks flush a deep red. Just as you begin to open your mouth, ready to speak or perhaps to protest, Seungcheol silences you with a touch.

Without a word, he positions the vibrator back against your wetness, the cool touch of it sending you screaming on your bed. Slowly, he guides it back to your clit, applying a steady pressure as he begins to circle it. 

His eyes are locked onto your every reaction, absorbing each tremor and gasp as if they were treasures.

The immediate pleasure that jolts through you is overwhelming. You clench his forearm, your grip desperate and needy as you roll your eyes back in pure, unfiltered sensation. The way he controls the vibrator, the way he’s so deliberately attentive to your body—it drives you wild.

The intensity of your arousal triples, the added thrill of Seungcheol’s touch making it feel like every nerve is on fire. You sob, the sound escaping from you as you struggle to stay grounded amidst the stimulation. 

Each circle of the vibrator on your clit feels like an eternity, stretching out the sensation to a nearly unbearable edge.

Seungcheol’s gaze never wavers from you. He watches you with an intense focus and tenderness, his own breath coming in uneven puffs as he fights to keep his own desires in check.

He’s controlling your pleasure with an expert touch, making sure that each movement is precise and perfectly tuned to your reactions.

He knows you’re on the brink, and he’s both savoring and prolonging this moment for you. 

The control he exerts is deliberate, his movements are carefully calculated to push you to the edge without letting you fall over just yet.

As your body writhes beneath his touch, Seungcheol’s expression softens. He can see how much you need this, how much his presence, his touch, is amplifying everything you’re feeling. It’s a heady blend of power and vulnerability, and he’s completely consumed by it.

As the waves of pleasure begin to crest, you feel your moans transforming into quieter, breathless gasps. Your body tightens, with every muscle pulling taut as you approach the brink of orgasm. 

It’s right there, just a heartbeat away, when Seungcheol suddenly pulls the vibrator away. The abrupt absence of its buzzing sends a shock through you, your body jolting as you let out a delayed cry of frustration.

Seungcheol doesn’t look at you. Rather, he sets the vibrator on the bedside table as if it were a routine, doing so with practiced ease. 

Then he gets to his feet and strips off his shirt, baring his chest. Your need is heightened by the sight of him, so masterful and totally devoted to you. You watch him, breathless and with wide eyes, while he dismisses your little cries of protest. 

He seems determined to show you something more personal than the toy could ever offer, judging by the steady, unwavering look in his eyes.

He says, taking off his belt, “I want to see you cum for me, not for a toy.” “I want to see you cum in my mouth,” he murmurs.

You swear you see your soul leave your body just like in a cartoon,with his words. He spreads your legs wide, putting himself between them. You can almost feel the need in your body quivering with anticipation.

His mouth feels like fire when it first touches your clit; the buzzing vibrator has made you more sensitive. You gasp, your hips jerking involuntarily. His tongue is moist and warm as it hungersily probes every part of you.

You let out a deep moan as he laps at your entrance, gathering your slick and spreading it over your clit.

He sucks gently, then more firmly, his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot in a way that has you writhing beneath him. Every nerve ending in the body is hyperaware of intense pleasure.

Your hips are held in place by Seungcheol's hands as he consumes you. You can feel the strength in his hold, the way his fingers dig into your skin just enough to anchor you. His eyes glance up at you, watching your reactions, ensuring he’s giving you exactly what you need.

“Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice shaky. “I’m so close.”

His response is a deep hum against your clit. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his lips sucking harder. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold on for dear life.

Every muscle in your body tightens, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He doesn’t let up, his focus entirely on you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When your orgasm finally crashes over you, your back arches off the bed, a loud moan escaping your lips. Seungcheol continues to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone.

You take a deep breath, your vision slowly clearing, and catch sight of Seungcheol gripping his cock through his boxers. The outline looks thick and big, making your mouth water at the sight of it.

“Seungcheol,” you murmur, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your orgasm. His eyes meet yours, dark and round.

“Yes?” he asks, his voice husky.

You reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you press your palm against the bulge in his boxers. He inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you touch him.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you say, your voice gaining strength.

He groans softly, his restraint slipping. He helps you pull his boxers down, his erection springing free. It looks even more impressive without the fabric, flushed, throbbing, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of him. He watches you, his breath hitching as you stroke him slowly.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, looking up at him.

He chuckles, the sound low and rough. “And you’re so beautiful.”

You smile. Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on the tip, tasting the salty precum. His reaction is immediate, a shudder running through his body as he groans your name.

Encouraged, you take him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just holding you gently as you work him with your mouth.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so well.”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, feeling the stretch in your jaw. His size is a challenge, but you’re determined to make him feel as good as he made you feel. His groans and gasps spur you on, each sound a reward for your efforts.

You bob your head, taking him as deep as you can, your hand stroking the base where you can’t reach. His hips begin to move, a slow, careful thrust that shows how close he is to losing control.

“Y/N, I’m close,” he warns, his voice strained.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you continue your movements, letting him know without words that you want this. He curses softly, his grip on your hair tightening just a bit.

One thing he didn’t notice was your sneaky hand grabbing the forgotten vibrator on the bedside table. With a naughty grin, you hold the base of his cock to keep it still, then turn the vibrator on and press it against his length while your mouth sucks on his tip.

Seungcheol lets out a deep grunt, propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes closing tightly. “You little—” he curses, his voice strained. Your smirk widens at his reaction, the vibrations traveling through his body, making him shudder.

“Who’s the villain now?” you tease, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock.

His response is a strangled moan, his hips jerking slightly into your mouth. “You... you’re the villain here,” he groans, his hands gripping the sheets. “Fuck!”

The combination of your mouth and the vibrator makes his body tense. You can feel him throbbing in your hand, his muscles tightening as he gets closer to the edge.

You increase the intensity, your hand moving the vibrator up and down his length while your mouth continues its assault on his tip. His breathing becomes ragged, and he’s practically panting now, his moans growing louder with each passing second.

“Y/N, I’m gonna—” he chokes out, his voice desperate.

You let go of his tip, a knowing smirk playing on your lips as you realize you’re giving him a taste of his own medicine. The vibrator still buzzes in your hand as you reach for his cock, straddling him and slowly sinking down. 

The sensation is electric—your drenched, sopping cunt engulfs him almost like a vacuum, drawing a desperate moan from his lips. His eyes flutter shut, and you can tell he’s loving it just as much as you are by the way his face contorts.

When you bottom out, Seungcheol squirms beneath you, his hands gripping your hips. He reaches for your wrist and places the vibrator on your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you clench around his length. 

His moan mingles with a teasing smile, his eyes dark with lust. If he wasn’t a villain before, he definitely looks like one now.

You ride his cock in circles, the vibrations on your clit making your body curl inward, your nails digging into his abdomen. The pleasure is overwhelming, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you move faster, chasing the high that’s just within reach.

His grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you move. “That’s it, baby,” he growls “Just like that.”

Seungcheol sneaks a hand to the vibrator and turns it to the highest level. You grunt, throwing your head back as the intense vibrations radiate through your entire body. He can feel them inside you too, the added stimulation making him groan.

“Fuck, Seungcheol!” you cry out, your voice shaking as you jump up and down on his cock. Your pussy meets his length and then his base, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room.

“Yeah, take it all, baby,” he growls, his eyes locked on yours. “Your pussy is so fucking tight around me.”

You moan louder, the dirty talk driving you wild. “Tell me more,” you gasp, craving more of his words, the filthier, the better.

He thrusts up into you, his own pleasure building as he watches you ride him. “You love this, don’t you? Being my little slut, taking my cock so well,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of speaking through his moans.

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” you reply, your movements becoming more frantic. “I love it, Seungcheol. I love being— Fuck!”

He grins. “You’re so fucking wet for me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like a desperate little whore.”

You shiver at his words, your body responding eagerly. “Shit, Seungcheol, you feel so good inside me,” you pant. “I want to cum all over your cock.”

“Do it, baby,” he encourages, his voice rough. “Cum for me. Show me how much you love it.”

“I’m gonna cum again, Seungcheol,” you gasp, riding him faster. “I want you to cum with me.”

“Fuck, yes,” he grits out, his hands sliding up to your breasts, squeezing them. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

“Cum inside me,” you moan, your nails digging into his chest. “Fill me up, Seungcheol.”

He thrusts up hard, matching your frantic pace. “You want my cum? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, please,” you beg, leaning back to get a better angle, driving him deeper. Your voice breaking with need. “I need it, Seungcheol. I need your cum.”

His grip on you tightens, and you can feel him getting close. “You’re gonna get it,” he promises, his voice rough. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby.”

Seungcheol presses the vibrator harder against your swollen clit, and you convulse on him, your body shaking uncontrollably from the combined sensations. 

“Fuck,” he growls, “You’re creaming all over my cock. Look at you, so fucking soaked.”

You moan loudly, barely able to respond as the vibrations and his cock drive you wild. “Yes, Seungcheol,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “I’m so wet for you.”

He chuckles darkly, his eyes locked on yours as he continues to thrust upward, hitting every sensitive spot inside you. “Hm… The way you’re dripping all over me. I can feel every drop.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you bounce harder, trying to chase the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t stop cumming,” you whimper. “It’s too much.”

Seungcheol’s breathing grows ragged, his gaze fixed on the way your pussy pulses around him. “That’s right. Let go for me. I want to see you lose control. You’re such a fucking mess for me.”

The pressure of the vibrator against your clit makes you cry out. “I’m cumming so hard,” you moan. “I can’t handle it.”

He grunts, his voice deep and raw. “That’s it, baby. Cream all over my cock. I love how you’re losing it. I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard.”

Your eyes roll back. “Seungcheol,” you cry out, your body arching and trembling. “I’m gonna—”

He groans as he feels your inner muscles clench around him, the vibrations making every nerve in your body explode. “Yeah, let it all out,” he commands. “Show me how much you fucking need me.”

You convulse one last time, your vision blurring as the orgasm washes over you. Seungcheol holds you tightly, his cock still buried deep inside you as he continues to grind against your clit, making sure you get every last ounce of pleasure.

Seungcheol wastes no time, flipping you over onto all fours like you're a rag doll. The sudden shift leaves you breathless, your body pliant and obedient to his every move. He quickly turns the vibrator off and tosses it aside, not caring where it lands. His hands find your ass, squeezing and fondling your cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock back inside you, abusing your sweet spot with relentless precision. You feel the sting of your skin meeting his pelvis with each strong thrust.

You bite down on the pillow, muffling your sobs as your body trembles beneath him. The orgasm still pulses through you, but now Seungcheol is fucking you through it with a ferocity that has you seeing stars.

His grip tightens on your hips, one foot propped up on the mattress to give him more leverage. The bed creaks under you, the mattress springs creaking.

His moans become whiny and throaty. You can feel him getting closer, his cock twitching inside you with every thrust, and the sight of the white ring around his shaft driving him feral.

Summoning strength you didn't know you had, you lift your head and glance over your shoulder. You need to see his 'bad boy' posture crumble.

Seungcheol's face is a picture of raw emotion, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent cry. His expression is utterly shattered, as if he's about to break down and cry like a boy. 

The sight of him like this, so helpless and undone, makes you squeeze harder around him. The reaction is immediate—Seungcheol's eyes roll back, and his hips slam into yours, grinding deep as he reaches he orgasms. 

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you completely. He groans as he cums harder than ever before, his hips twitching with each spurt. The room is loaded with the sounds of his heavy breathing and the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together.

He stays buried inside you for a moment, savoring the sensation of your bodies connected, his cum still dripping from where he's filled you to the brim.

Seungcheol sleeps soundly, like a baby, his face peaceful and unburdened. In that moment, it doesn't matter who he is or where he is; his mind is completely consumed by thoughts of you. 

The room is quiet, the only sound being your synchronized breaths. Exhausted and spent, you don't even have the strength to clean up. You sleep without a care, even as his cum slowly drips down your thighs.

[...]

Morning breaks gently, the soft light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Seungcheol stirs, his senses gradually returning to him. But something feels off. He blinks his eyes open, expecting to see you lying beside him. Instead, he’s met with a sight that jolts him fully awake.

You’re floating. 

Your body is hovering a few inches above the bed, suspended in mid-air. Your eyes are wide with shock, mirroring his own as you both take in the surreal scene.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, your voice tinged with panic. “Lower me down.”

He scrambles out of bed, his mind racing to process what he’s seeing. Without hesitation, he reaches out, his hands gently guiding you back down to the bed. The moment your body touches the mattress, the floating sensation ceases, leaving you both staring at each other in stunned silence.

You sit up slowly, your hands trembling slightly as you brush your hair back. “Wasn’t the injection supposed to last only for a few hours?” you ask.

Seungcheol, still healing from the sight of you floating, nods slowly. “Yeah, that’s what they said. But…maybe there’s more to it. Maybe it’s affected you in ways we didn’t expect.”

“So, does this mean you can fuck me while I'm floating in mid-air?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen, his cheeks flushing a deep red. He laughs, a surprised sound escaping his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly caught off guard by your audacity.

[colonelarr0w]

Collapse Into Me

After a particularly rough day, how do these JJK characters offer their comfort?

INCLUDED - Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Choso Kamo, Ryomen Sukuna, Hiromi Higuruma, Ino Takuma, Yuuta Okkotsu, Inumaki Toge, Yuuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

SATORU is more than happy to gather you in his arms and let you lay there. To him, there's no greater comfort than you laying in his arms, your head tucked perfectly underneath his chin with one hand tangled in your hair and the other tracing mindless shapes into the exposed skin of your back. He'd let you ramble about what made your day so terrible and offer little hums between your sentences – never once interrupting you or making you feel as if he wasn't listening. He would only offer his advice if you wanted it, and even then it was the most heartfelt words he'd ever spoken to you.  

"I'm here for you sweet thing. Just let it all out, okay? Don't want you holding anything in." 

SUGURU makes it his personal mission to take your mind off of whatever might have bothered you throughout the course of your day. When you return home, the first thing that he notices is your dulled mood – how your eyes focus on anything but him and how you try your hardest to hide the growing tremble to your lips. He doesn't draw attention to it, not wanting to accidentally upset you further. Instead he just pulls you into the living room, where he's set up a small fort for just the two of you; complete with your favorite snacks and drinks, as well as a movie that you had mentioned enjoying.  

"I know you've had a tough day angel, but you're here now with me. Come on, make yourself comfy." 

KENTO's comfort is the personification of a warm hug paired with gentle, featherlight kisses. He cradles you in his arms for however long you need, rocking your bodies back and forth, his chest rumbling in a gentle hum against the skin of your cheek. He'll guide you to sit down, fingers interlocking with your own as his softened eyes scan over your twisted expression, beautiful features scrunched up in sadness. He'll kiss away the tears as they trickle down your cheeks, offering you words of comfort that he wished he had heard during his moments of need.  

"Come now darling, don't cry. I'm right here with you, everything is going to be alright." 

TOJI is at first very arrogant, smirking down at you and bluntly pointing out the tears that you're trying so desperately to keep hidden from his gaze. But when he sees that the events of your day had truly left you shaken and unhappy, he's tugging you to his chest and hiding you away from the world. The entirety of your body is dwarfed by his massive frame, face squished into his chest as he leans back on the couch, tugging you over him like a weighted blanket. He says absolutely nothing as you keep yourself hidden away, but he doesn't miss the feeling of your tears as they fall delicately onto his skin. Only when you lift your head to glance up at him does he thumb away your tears — hushing you with a softness that not even he knew that he was capable of.  

"Alright kid, you're okay. 'm right here with ya, shh." 

CHOSO sits silently with you, both of you simply sitting in the silence that your sadness provides. His fingers are folded together with your own, the pad of his thumb swiping against the back of your knuckle every now and then – another silent reminder that he was there with you. No words need to be exchanged, not that he would mind if you spoke. If you'd rather talk, he will gladly listen. And if not, he's more than okay with sitting beside you, allowing your body to rest against his own. Your head is laid against his shoulder, fingers interlocked, and for a moment, nothing else in the world truly matters.  

"'m here, you don't need to be upset anymore." 

RYOMEN might not know how to comfort people, but somehow, he figures it out quickly the moment that he sees you curling away from his touch. The tears that adorn your waterline are not a foreign sight to him, but that doesn't mean that he ever wants to see that expression on your face. He doesn't offer you words of comfort, after all, his tongue was sharp and made of silver – it likely would do more harm if he were to open his jaw. Instead, he offers to you a softness that had only ever been reserved for you anyway. He'll let you lay beside him, sharpened fingernails scraping through your hair just like you did for him on those nights where he pretended to be asleep. He may not be the best at comforting, but to you, his presence was warmth personified – a warmth that you needed to combat the coldness of your day.  

"Tch, shut up and let me do this for you … little brat." 

HIROMI grants you the space that you need to process whatever it is you may be feeling. He'll sit quietly outside of the closed bedroom or bathroom door, simply resting his head against the wall and listening to the softened sniffles that you're trying your best to keep locked within your chest. The moment that the door slides open and you sit quietly at his side, he wraps you up in his arms and allows you to sob into him. Please let everything out in his arms, the last thing that he wants is for you to wake later in the night with your body debilitated by sadness that you had accidentally left to fester. He wants you to know that he is there for you, and if holding you is the way to go about it, then he will happily let his arms go numb for your sake.  

"There, there my love. You've nothing to waste your tears over … I'm here, you're safe." 

INO is initially silent when you return home distraught after a tough day, but the moment that you sit beside him and let out that heavy sigh that says “I’m exhausted”, he is wrapping you up in a thickened blanket and rushing around the apartment like a chicken devoid of a head. He piles snacks and drinks onto the coffee table and shuffles through the drawer that is filled to the brim with various DVDs. He holds up various options, feeling his heart sink further and further into his stomach at your lack of an answer. After talking to a brick wall, he decides to just sit in silence with you, hugging you against him and deciding that — maybe — a nap was all that you needed. 

“You comfortable sweetheart? Oh … okay, okay. ‘m here, just rest, yeah?” 

YUUTA offers to walk around Jujutsu Tech with you after finding out about how terrible your day had been, smiling at you and taking both of your hands into his own. He even tells Rika to leave him undisturbed for a few hours, directing all of his attention to you. The silence of your walk is filled with your ramblings about your day, complaints about Gojo, worries about upcoming missions, anything and everything that might be bothering you. He’ll offer advice where it’s needed, cracking jokes if the situation calls for it — but his main focus is being there, being the ear that you so desperately need.  

“I’m sorry angel, I wish that there was more that I could do. But I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” 

INUMAKI is the king of distracting you when you’re upset, opening his dorm up to you and allowing you to hide away in it as if you had spent your entire life living there. He silences his phone for the rest of the day, focusing on you and the things that you want to do in order to take your mind off of whatever had happened prior to seeing him. He’ll offer you the second controller and go easy on you, allowing you to beat him and rub it into his face — eyes crinkling in a loving smile as the spark returns to your expression and body language.  

“Tuna mayo. (I love you).” 

YUUJI is on the verge of tears when he sees your pained expression, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in a bone-crushing embrace. He tucks you into his arms, his heart clenching in his chest as you sob into him. His hands rub up and down the length of your back, cheek resting against the top of your head as he shushes you — wanting you to calm down enough so that he could try and help you. He does his best to hold back his own tears, but your sadness is his own, and seeing you so distraught was only making him feel worse and worse by the second. But he hopes that his hug is enough to remind you that he's there with you … and that he was never leaving. 

"Shhh baby, I'm here! I'm right here with you, you're okay … please don't cry." 

MEGUMI almost immediately brings out his Divine Dogs at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks – knowing that the dogs would work wonders in bringing you comfort. He sits quietly beside you on the couch, not daring to utter a word as you thread your fingers through the thick fur of one of the dogs, smiling tearfully as it nuzzles affectionately into your hand. He doesn’t say anything to you, nor does he offer any kind of reaction when you shift your body to lean comfortably against him. He wraps his arms firmly around you, resting his chin on top of your head and letting out a small sigh through his nose. He may be the silent type — but his silence cuts through your sadness like a burning knife. It’s comforting … and just so undoubtedly him. 

“Is this okay? Alright … I’m here for you, I hope you know that.” 

[just-jordie-things]

if you look, you can tell - fushiguro megumi

word count: 6k warnings: swearing, i think that’s it summary: megumi finds himself eavesdropping a conversation between the rest of his classmates when he hears his name pop up.  the way you jump to his defense and have only sweet things to say about him has him second guessing the way he feels about you. ___

“It just doesn’t really make sense to me.  I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…. Cold?”

Megumi was never really one for eavesdropping.  Not only because it was immature and would only cause drama, but because he’d never really felt a need to.  He can’t recall a conversation he’d ever stumbled upon that he deemed interesting enough to listen in on.  In fact, he’d rather find that everyone else was busy with conversation so he could slip out and do his own thing unnoticed.  A habit he’d picked up in his younger years when he still shared a living space with the white haired special grade sorcerer.

But for some reason, right now was different.

Maybe it was because he was the topic of conversation.  Maybe because Itadori, Kugisaki, and (y/n) were the ones around the corner.  Or maybe it was because something tugged on his heart strings when he heard Nobara’s admission.

He was headed to the common room to retrieve the book he’d left in there this morning, and hadn’t even realized all three of his classmates had the evening off from training and assignments.  He’d heard that they were talking as he’d approached, but didn’t halt in his steps until he realized they were talking about him.

“I think he can be nice,” Itadori defended weakly.  “I mean… I just met him, I guess,” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing he didn’t actually have much evidence to back up his statement.  But he was too nice of a guy to straight up gossip about his new classmate.  “Maybe he’s just quiet?” 

(y/n) nodded thoughtfully, knowing this to be true.  She figured she knew him better than the two newbies, and that was why they’d come to her with their curiosities about the stoic shikigami user.  Having been born and raised in Tokyo, she’d been introduced to Megumi long before they enrolled at Jujutsu Tech.  Although their friendship hadn’t truly sparked until their enrollment, she’d known him enough to understand him, his mannerisms, his fighting style, his strict routine- all of these things that she’d never really thought twice about before, she now realized sort of made her the on site Megumi- Expert.  She even chuckled a little bit at the thought.

Because back then, back when she first met the grumpy boy that was thrust before her by one Gojo Satoru, with an eager grin and the promise of “Look Megs, a friend your age!” She would have never thought she’d be in this position now.

“Megumi has always been reserved” She agrees to Itadori’s comment, but her voice is distant, clouded with something else as her mind grows too occupied.

It took some time after their first meeting for Megumi to grow on her.  Understandably, because he wasn’t exactly looking to grow on her.  He wasn’t looking for friends his age- he wasn’t looking for friends at all, really.  Whatever disease that had riddled his guardian’s mind in order to have him setting up playdates with this girl must have been fatal.  Or at least he’d hoped.

Time and time again she was dropped off at the Gojo-Fushiguro residence, or at the park where they were expected to play.  Time and time again Megumi barely spoke, barely looked at her, and hoped his blatant disinterest would be enough to deter Gojo from setting up anymore of the stupid playdates.

And honestly, (y/n) never really knew when that changed, or understood why it changed.  Her lip was caught between her teeth now as she thought it over, trying to trace back her steps to find the point in time where their acquaintanceship blossomed into true friendship, which she could confidently call their relationship now.

“Yeah, does he ever let anyone in?” Nobara scoffed, but she didn’t mean for it to come across as harsh as it sounded.  She had just felt awkward whenever she was around the raven haired boy, not knowing how to fill the silence as easily as Itadori.  “It just doesn’t make sense to me,”

From where he stood around the corner, Megumi slumped against the wall.  This is when he should have walked away, and forgotten he’d ever heard anything.  He shouldn’t have cared what they were saying about him, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that the new students didn’t feel buddy-buddy with him.  But there was some invisible force keeping him firmly in place, and intrigue won over logic in his mind as he waited to hear the rest of the conversation.

“I get you guys are friends and all, but how can someone like you be friends with someone so…” Nobara trailed off, and Megumi felt his heart drop to his stomach.  

He shouldn’t care.  This shouldn’t matter.  But then Nobara finally found the word she was looking for, and Megumi had never felt an ache in his chest quite like this before.

“Cold?”

Cold? His mind clung onto the word, picking it apart viciously.  Is that really what everyone thought of him? Is that really the image of himself everyone perceived? Again, he supposed he wasn’t the most expressive person, it wasn’t like he expected them to be singing his praises, but he certainly hadn’t expected that.

Before he could convince himself that he was being silly, he found himself frowning.  Never before had he cared what anyone thought.  As someone who actively kept people at arm's length, Megumi couldn’t think of a time he ever thought twice about someone else’s opinion of him.

And just as he’s ready to scoff and walk away, forgetting his book once more and deciding to never think about this moment of weakness again.

But then (y/n’s) speaking up.

“Cold?” She repeats the word, and Megumi stops in his tracks again at the tone of voice she takes.  His brows furrow and he’s leaning against the wall again, trying to decipher what the emotion that riddled her tone was.  Anger? He wondered, puzzled.  Humor? 

Raising from his stomach like it had been brought back to life, his heart stutters in his chest.

“Megumi’s anything but cold,” (y/n) argues, in that same tone of voice that he’d never heard before.  She follows it with a chuckle that sounds anything but humored.  “He’s the warmest person I know” 

Really? Megumi almost laughs to himself before remembering he was trying to stay hidden.

“Really?” Nobara gapes back at her, and (y/n) nods furiously.

“Absolutely,” She declares, firm in her stance.  “I’ve never met anyone like him.  He’s one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever known, you just have to know him, I suppose,” 

Honestly, hearing her argument, Megumi’s not all that sure what she’s talking about.  But he continues to hover in the hallway, now dying to know more.

“Megumi’s not like everyone else,” (y/n) says, her voice softening as she tries to explain her old friend’s habits to her new friends.  “He’s quiet, yeah, he’s always been that way.  But he’s not cold.  He’s quite the opposite.  He… he has a really big heart…” She trails off, chuckling to herself a bit.

I don’t know about that, Megumi thought bitterly, only for his face to heat up at such a sweet accusation.

“He probably wouldn’t say the same,” (y/n) speaks his thoughts exactly.  “But it’s true.  Megumi shows he cares through actions, not words” 

“Ohh..” Nobara and Yuuji spoke in unison.

(y/n) giggled a bit at the both of them.

“He’ll grow on you,” She tells them kindly.  “It takes time, but… Megumi’s one of the greatest friends anyone could ask for.  I’m certainly lucky to have him in my life” 

If Megumi wasn’t blushing before, he certainly was now.  Even though no one was around to see, he found himself tucking his face into the collar of his jacket to hide the way his cheeks flushed with color at her openly affectionate words.

“Wow, (y/n), that’s really sweet,” Yuuji cooed.  “You must be very close, how long have you known each other?” 

“Well, a while,” (y/n) thought it over.  “Gojo tried to set us up as best friends when we were younger.  But I wouldn’t say it really worked till a year or so ago.  But I mean what I said, I respect him a lot.  He’s a really good person,” 

Really? Megumi smiled to himself at such a blatant lie.  She would think that.

“He always helps me when I need it, especially when it comes to training, or studying,” (y/n) goes on to explain.

Well, he supposed that was true.  But he just wanted her to excel in their field, she had so much potential, it was only right to help her when she needed it.

“And he is kind of a secret gentleman,” She goes on, dropping her voice as though sharing a secret.  “Even before we were close, he’d carry my things for me, or open the door, pull out my chair…” She trails off as she recalls all the instances.

Megumi nodded to himself, confirming that she was telling the truth.  But that was just the right thing to do, Gojo had raised him right in that area, after all.  You treat women with respect, but he also believed in treating people the way he wanted to be treated.  Those two things seemed to overlap when it came to her.  So again, he realized that (y/n) was right about him.  He was starting to wonder if she knew him better than he gave her credit for.  Or even better than he knew himself.

“There was one time when we were younger…” She smiles at the memory.  “We stole a cookie out of Gojo’s stash, he broke it in half for us, and then gave me the bigger piece” 

Nobara and Yuuji take note of the way her eyes glaze over with fondness as she remembers the day.  They hadn’t even been friends yet, it was one of the instances where she was dropped off and left with him for hours in the hopes of the two of them becoming friends.  In fact, that particular day, she’d spent most of the time flipping through magazines with Tsumiki.  Thinking about it now, however, (y/n) wonders if that was the first bridge between them.  The uneven halves of a chocolate chip cookie being a shared secret from the white haired man knocked out on the living room couch.  She makes the mental note to ask Megumi if he remembers it that way.

“Aww!” Nobara clasps her hands together as she fawns over the simple memory.  (y/n) can’t help but laugh a little at the way her classmates treat Megumi’s soft side.  “He must’ve had a ‘widdle crush on you!” She teases in a cartoonish voice.

Megumi’s eyes widened upon hearing the declaration.  Had he come across that way? His heartbeat picked up with anxiety, and he worried about what (y/n) would have to say next.

Because he certainly didn’t have a crush on her.  All those nice things he did for her, he did because they were friends, they were all things friends would do, right? Helping her with training, carrying her bag when she complained about her back hurting, cooking her dinner when she said she hadn’t eaten all day, taking her to that movie she wanted to see even though he thought it was predictable and cheesy- Megumi was sure that was just being a good friend.  Whether or not he wanted to do those things for her was out of the question.  

Just as she’d said- he showed he cared through actions.

Nevermind what he thought.  Nevermind if she was the prettiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.  Nevermind if she had the kindest heart he ever had the pleasure- or luck- of meeting.  Nevermind if she proved time and time again that she was the most wonderful person through and through- 

Megumi thought he was going to throw up just thinking about it.  But he couldn’t help himself.  He thinks about her most hours of the day, he realizes now.  He waits for her to text him back, he wonders what she’s doing when he’s not around, tons of things reminded him of her.  That flower she pointed out in the garden, anything that was her favorite color, when it rained, when the sun was shining, hell, even his own shikigami made her cross his mind.

Fuck.

He shakes his head as he tries to ground himself back to reality.  None of that was really evidence of him having deeper feelings for her though, was it? He could care about her strongly as a friend, couldn’t he? How stereotypical was he for second guessing himself as soon as he cared about his friend who was a girl.  A pretty girl.  They were capable of being friends without romantic tension.

But then again, if she were to make a move, he wouldn’t exactly push her away, would he? 

His face feels impossibly hotter at the question he raised to himself.  What a tricky answer that was, indeed.  The gears in his brain began to malfunction and break down over how simple the answer that came to him was.

“I don’t know about that…” (y/n’s) voice softens as she trails off.

Something unfamiliar bubbles up in Megumi’s stomach.  It feels like he’s eaten too many sweets and washed it down with pure alcohol.  It’s bubbly, and sickeningly sweet.  It makes the tips of his fingers buzz and the corners of his lips tug into an uncontrollable smile.  He’s not sure if he hates the feeling or wants to chase after it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Yuuji cheers.

“Wh- what?” (y/n) stammers back.

“I bet he’d say yes,” The pink haired boy says with a bright smile of affirmation.  “You’re definitely his favorite, and he stares at you a lot” 

I do?

“He does?” (y/n) asks, sounding a little breathless.  

Was she surprised? Horrified? Megumi couldn’t tell.  He was dying to see the look on her face, so he could get a proper read on how she was processing all of this.

“Oh yeah.  I see him staring at you all the time” Yuuji confirms.

“Me too” Nobara chimes in.

“Honestly, I thought you guys were dating when I first got here” Yuuji adds.

He did?

“You did?” (y/n) can’t help the small chuckle that comes out of her.  “Why?” 

“Dunno,” Yuuji shrugs.  “He stands close to you.  And most of the time when he talks it’s just to you.  I just thought it was flirting” 

No you idiot, I just don’t need anyone eavesdropping on- oh… Megumi drags his hand over his face, tugging on his skin as his eyes roll back.  Fuck, he was the biggest idiot on the planet.

Of course he had a crush on her.  How long had he not noticed? Or had it always been there? 

(y/n’s) giggling pulls him out of his train of thoughts.  Cute and bubbly, he can tell from their sound that she’s shaking her head in disbelief.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” She tries to deter her new friends from going down that path, but her voice has that same soft and sweet tone that Megumi hopes he’s not reading into when he thinks she’s hopeful that they could have it all right.  “We’ve known each other for a while.  I think if something were to happen it would’ve happened already” 

It’s quiet for a beat, and Megumi’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest now he can feel it in his ears.  It’s upsetting and distracting, as he’s dying to hear more of this conversation.  He worries he might’ve picked up a real knack for spying, but he can’t think of anything more interesting than this.

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Nobara teases.  “Are you the one with a crush?” 

With every second that passes before (y/n’s) response, Megumi frets he’s going to pass out.  He’s sure his body is going to hit the ground giving away his embarrassing eavesdropping.

“I…” (y/n) starts but trails off.  Megumi wishes he could peek around the wall and watch the scene unfold.  He’s sure that if he could see her, he could deduce her answer for himself.

If she was fidgeting, then he could confirm that she did, in fact, harbor a crush on him.

If she was standing still out of shock from the idea, then he’d know she thought the idea was preposterous, and there wasn’t a chance she felt anything more for him.

“I haven’t thought about it” She finishes quietly.

There’s some shuffling of feet and a distant hmmph from Nobara’s disbelief, or intrigue, maybe.  Either way, the conversation must’ve been done.  Yuuji was shouting goodbyes as he left the room to meet up with Maki for rigorous training.  Nobara followed suit shortly after, claiming she had nothing better to do so watching Maki train was the perfect way to spend her afternoon.

(y/n) laughed and waved goodbye to her friends.  Once they were out of sight she let out a shaky exhale.

Jesus, that was close, she thought as she finally made her way to the couch, ready to collapse and relax.  Her heart had been racing in her chest for the last few minutes and she needed a break from Yuuji and Nobara’s prying eyes.  She was sure they’d seen right through her, sure they’d been able to tell she was lying through her teeth.

Just as she was about to fall onto the cushions and let the couch take her into a much needed afternoon nap, she noticed a thick hardcover book had been left behind.  There was a bookmark sticking out of it halfway between the covers, but all of the pages before it were littered with small sticky notes.  She’d recognized it right away, if not for remembering this was the book Megumi had been reading all week, she’d deduce it was his from the heavy annotations.  She’d never met anyone who took reading as seriously as he did.

With a small smile she picked it up, deciding she could nap a little later.  He was likely wondering where he’d left the book after all, she was pretty sure he had the afternoon free.  On a mission, she heads out of the common room, while flipping to the first page marked by a skinny pink tab.

She’s so lost in reading the little comments he’d left on a larger note inside of the page- rather than actually reading any of the actual text- that she didn’t notice Megumi in the hall until she practically ran into him.

“Oh- sorry!” She yelped quietly upon seeing the tall figure in her peripheral.  When she looks up to see it’s Megumi, her shock melts into a small smile.  “Oh, Megumi! I was just coming to look for you,” She beams brighter, closing his book and extending it to him.  “This is yours, right?” 

Not knowing what to say, he gives her a shaky nod before taking the book from her hands.  He settles for a small thank you.

“No problem,” She replies.  “It was in my nap spot” She adds sheepishly.

Megumi chuckles, and he’s unable to keep himself from grinning.  (y/n) tilts her head at his bright smile, intrigued by the pure joy seeping out of him.  Her fingers latch together as a group of butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter in her stomach.

“Hey, I was wondering…” She starts, her brows pinching with uncertainty, but Megumi gives her his undivided attention.

“Yeah? What is it?” He asks, tucking the book under his arm.

He watches the way her fingers begin to fiddle.  He’s distracted by the nervous habit of hers, and his heart swells in his chest.  She was fidgeting.

“Uh, ah- it’s silly-” She starts to change her mind, but he shakes his head at her, too eager to hear what was on her mind to let her back out of it now.

“I’m sure it’s not,” He says boldly.  She must catch the way he looks at her in complete seriousness, because her eyes widen in the smallest amount.  “What is it?” He asks again.

Her cheeks feel warm, and Megumi watches in real time as a rosy tint flushes her face.  He can’t believe it took him so long to realize just how deeply he cared about her, because seeing her fidget and blush before him now, he thinks it could be his favorite sight of all time.

“D’you remember when we were little, and Gojo always made us have those playdates?” She asks with a small laugh that dies quickly as she’s overcome with bashfulness.

“Yeah, how could I forget that?” He chuckles back at her, his lips lifting into a fond smile, even though in most of his memories of that time, he was an irritated, angry little thing.  “What about it?” 

(y/n) opens her mouth to explain, but quickly shuts it and shakes her head.  A soft smile adorns her lips as her eyes fall to her hands, still fidgeting nervously.

“I dunno, I guess I…” She’s never struggled for words more than this moment, and she curses herself for acting like a shy little girl when she’s known Megumi for years, and she’s never quite felt like this.  “Do you remember when we became friends?” She rushes the question out, afraid that she’d say forget it and walk away with regret rather than feel a little embarrassment now and actually get an answer.

Megumi nods.

“I do” He responds right away.

“Like, actual friends,” (y/n) clarifies, sure that he spoke too soon.  “Not just kids dropped off at a playground for three hours and being expected to play together, I mean, like, real friends” 

Megumi nods again.

“I do,” He repeats, this time with a small chuckle.  “You don’t?” 

(y/n) chews on her lip as she shakes her head.  Her brow furrows in the slightest, curious as to how he has the better memory of the two of them.  Amused, he smirks at her.

“Well?” She asks impatiently.  “What changed?” 

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” He teases softly, making her roll her eyes.  “You’re hurtin’ my feelings, (y/n/n)” 

“I didn’t know you had feelings, ‘gumi,” She retorts playfully.  “But c’mon, tell me” She pleads sweetly, her eyes glittering with anticipation.

His eyes flicker between hers for a moment, swept away with the way she looked at him.  It dawns on him that if she asked him any favor this way, he’d comply without hesitation.  Her complete attention was on him, and he swore there was something in her eyes he’d never seen before.  Or perhaps he’d just never noticed it.  It was soft, but there was a depth there that he was aching to explore further.

“It was right before we came here,” He finally indulged her, his voice quiet like he was revealing a well kept secret, rather than a memory they actually both shared, even if she’d forgotten it.  “The weekend before, actually.  When we were moving into the dorms, you remember that?” 

(y/n) nods at the general memory.  She thinks she recalls making fun of him for listening to Weezer while unpacking in the room right across from hers.

“Gojo let us stay one night early.  Probably so he could have his place to himself,” The thought dawns on Megumi a little late, but he chuckles realizing it now.  “But at the time it was cool… cause we’d never been on our own before” 

“Right,” (y/n) smiles as she thinks about it now.  That first night on her own in her own space had felt so special, so exciting.  It was almost humorous how normal it felt now.  How her space felt completely her own.  “I almost forget how it was just you ‘n me for a bit here” 

“But you don’t remember the first night?” He asks.  A smile line creases between (y/n’s) brows as she racks her mind for the rest of the memory.

Making ramen noodles in the kitchen far too late in the night because she couldn’t sleep.  Pacing around the corridors and snooping where she shouldn’t have.

“You woke me up,” Megumi chuckles.

Realization dawns on her in the form of an embarrassed smile.

“Oh,” She muses softly.  “Right… I couldn’t sleep and… I was bored” 

“You begged me to get up with you, it was torture,” Megumi reminded her.  “And then you made me watch a movie with you, that dumb 80s movie you like that was way too long- and you didn’t even stay awake through it” 

“Okay okay-” (y/n) tries to dismiss him with a wave of her hand, but Megumi continues.

“But you talked through most of it anyways,” He speaks over her before she could get him to shut up.  “You said you were scared” 

Her eyes widen, and the story he’s telling sounds vaguely familiar, but truthfully she’d been so exhausted that night she couldn’t really remember the specific details all that well.  But she did remember waking him up in the middle of the night, so she’s surprised he’s able to recall this random moment from a year ago so easily.  Maybe his memory was just better than hers.

“I… I did?” She mumbles.

Megumi nods back, with his focused eyes set on hers.

“You said you were scared of failing,” His voice grows quiet again.  “You said you… you were scared of not getting stronger,” 

Despite this event having happened so long ago, (y/n) feels embarrassed now, and she can’t believe that Megumi’s clung to this memory in particular.  She almost wished she hadn’t asked, because she could’ve lived in peace never having known she’d revealed such a massive insecurity to him.

“And then you told me that you thought I was strong,” Megumi continues, a smile curling on his lips.  “And you asked if I’d help you get strong like me, too,” 

She’s sure she must be seeing things when she notices color flush his cheeks.  Because there was no way Fushiguro Megumi was blushing in front of her right now.

“Then you passed out on me and I was stuck watching the rest of the dumb movie so you wouldn’t wake up” 

“You watched the rest of the movie?” She asks softly.  He chuckles at her, and nods his head.  “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that” 

“You were pretty tired,” He shrugs back in understanding.  “And it was a while ago, I wouldn’t have expected you to remember all of that” 

“I see…” (y/n) mumbles to herself.  She drags her lip between her teeth as she stays quiet for a few moments.

“And by the way,” He steps forward, catching her attention again as her eyes snap up to meet his, suddenly aware of the small space left between them.  “I do kinda stare at you a lot” 

Her face lights up with so much heat she thinks she’s going to combust.

“You- you heard that?” She squeaks out.

“And then some,” Megumi nods back.  For some reason, he doesn’t feel weird about shamelessly admitting that he’d been listening in on her conversation.  “Did you mean all of that?” 

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as her previous conversation comes back to her in waves.  The longer she thinks about it, the hotter the back of her neck grows.  He’d listened to all of that? He heard her ramble on about him? And had he heard that last part-? 

“I mean, y-yeah, yeah,” She stammers over her answer, accompanied with an awkward nod of her head.  “Of course I did” She says surely, but her voice is a mere whisper.

“Even that last part?” He asks, shuffling forward again.  Her eyes track the movement, bewildered by his sudden closeness, but she doesn’t dare put space between them.

“Last part?” She repeats, dumbly.

“Yeah,” Megumi nods, and he can’t help but reach out and trace his thumb under her jaw, ghosting over her skin with a touch so light she almost leans into it to feel it properly.  “You know, the part where you said you hadn’t thought about it, about me,” He reminded her, even though she remembers fully well what he was referencing.  “You meant that too?”

She swallows thickly.  The intensity of his eyes on hers was too much to bear, she could almost crumple to a heap on the ground, but her body is rigid, firmly planted before him by the pad of his thumb under her chin.

“No,” The word comes out in a whisper so soft Megumi wouldn’t have caught it had he not watched it fall from her lips.  “No, I didn’t mean that”

A smile twitched on his lips, and he could see her hands fidgeting again.  Just as he thought, he beamed as he met her eyes again, she felt it, too.

“What did you mean to say, then?” He asks the question that’s been lingering on his mind like poison being held in the back of his throat.

Her eyes wander to his lips as she realizes he’s been moving in impossibly closer.  She’s hoping, no, she’s sure he’s going to kiss her, but he wants his answer first.  Rightfully so, she supposes he’s been waiting to hear it, and if she was honest she was dying to get it off her chest.  But the prospect of so blatantly telling someone how you feel has her shifting her weight nervously.

“I meant…” She mumbles, snapping her eyes up to his when she thinks she’s stared at his lips for too long.  “I meant I have thought about… something more…” Her voice raises and drops in volume as she makes her confession weakly.  It’s certainly not a bold, romantic movie moment, like she always thought she’d have some day.  It’s timid, quiet, and a bit awkward on her end.  She clears her throat.  “But they didn’t need to know that” She says, a small giggle escaping her.

“No, ‘spose not” Megumi’s lips curled into a smile that had her nerves settling, comfortable again in his presence.  Although she’s sure she could never be truly uncomfortable with him.

“So… spying on your friends these days, hm?” (y/n) asks, tilting her head at him curiously.  She means for her tone to be playful, but it comes out in a whispery soft.  “That’s a bit out of character for you, Megumi”

Despite his warm face and stuttering heartbeat- he might need to go to Shoko, the irregular pace was becoming a concern- Megumi chuckles at her, and his smile doesn’t falter.

“When else was I gonna get to hear you say all that nice stuff about me?” He hums, effectively burning up her cheeks as well.  His thumb traces gently over her chin, his eyes following the movement fondly before meeting hers again.

Megumi had never really been a touchy person.  (y/n) could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s ever touched her, and the first three instances that pop up in her mind revolve around him rescuing her ass when she was being reckless on an assignment.

“I liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” He beamed a little brighter, and (y/n) had to grind her teeth into the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot.  “But for the record,” He moves closer, and her eyes grow so round as she stares at him that they almost burn from her lack of blinking.  “I’m lucky to have you, too,” 

Her jaw loosens and her teeth no longer have a grip on her cheek, allowing for a sweet smile to stretch across her lips as she takes in the fond words.

Just as she thought.  He was the warmest person she knew.

“And,” He continued, his eyes moving between hers as he took in how pretty she looked when she was in a state of surprise, “You are my favorite” 

She laughs again, breathless and quiet before she rolls her eyes with nothing but fondness.

“I know,” She murmurs, narrowing her eyes in mock annoyance.  The smile on her lips was too sweet for him to think she was giving him anything other than her entire heart on a platter.  “Must be a side effect of your staring problem”

He tilts his head down, simultaneously lifting her jaw with a tender pull of his thumb, but just as his nose brushes over hers, he seems to remember his manners, and he can’t have her go thinking he’d dropped the gentlemanly side of him she seemed to appreciate so much.

“Can I?” He murmurs, his lashes rising and falling as his eyes travel between her gaze and her lips.  “Kiss you?” He clarifies.

And she almost laughs.  She wants to giggle and grab him by the shirt and smash her lips against his in a feverish, passionate kiss.  But her breath is caught in her throat, she can’t quite find her voice, and her fingers seem to have magnets clinging them together because she’s frozen before him.

So all she can do is shut her eyes and give the faintest nod of her head, barely pursing her lips before his are pressing against them.

Every muscle in her body relaxes as she’s flooded with warmth.  Her posture loosens up and even her hands pry apart as she finally finds the strength to lift them, setting them gently on his shoulders.  

His lips are surprisingly soft, even when she presses closer and kisses him deeper, they feel nothing but tender.  She feels light headed from how sweetly he kisses her, his free hand, the one that isn’t holding his book, splays across her cheek.  The tip of his index finger barely ghosts along her earlobe, before tracing down her jaw, and back up again.

She was damn near about to raise her foot like the girls in the movies do when they’re swooning over their true love’s kiss.  That shit was no joke.

When they part, she’s smiling at him again, and he’s mirroring her expression.  It takes her a minute to will herself to open her eyes, and her hesitation makes Megumi chuckle.

“Next time, I’ll let ‘em know you’re a good kisser, too” She mumbles, in a bit of a daze, as he could tell.

“Oh will you?” He teases quietly.

She nods, leaning her cheek into the comfort of his palm.  Her cheeks flush before she crinkles her nose, second guessing her previous statement.

“Well, maybe not right away” She mumbles, and he chuckles at her.  

The apples of his cheeks are bright, his smile is toothy, and his eyes sparkle with every lovely feeling humanly possibly, all held for her.

“Maybe not right away” He agrees in a soft voice, before tilting forward again, his thumb swiping gingerly across her cheekbone.  

She swears she could melt into the way his low voice comes out in a whispered husk against her lips.  Her eyes are already fluttering shut again.  His lips brush over hers sweetly, gently, as though for the first time.  She returns the tenderness, her fingers reaching up and ghosting along his sharp jaw, twitching with anticipation to touch more.  The desire to grab him by the face and crash their lips together is still a thought in the back of her mind, but she sets it aside for now.  She thinks he’ll make the time for her to do so later.

And suddenly Megumi believes her.  He believes all the kind things she’d said when coming to defense.  He believes he is warm, and he is caring.  But he only believes it because she made him so.  He thinks he’ll have to tell her, at some point, but it could wait for another time.  They were bound to have time ahead of him where he could spend hours on end returning the favor, and sing her praises until his face is blue and hers is pink. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[stervrucht]

[AO3]

David Bowie plays on the radio and Steve drums his fingers along the steering wheel of his car as he contemplates. He is truly too good for this world. Now he is running errands for Dustin like some common soccer mom. The kid only had to give him one pout – one! – and Steve felt all his resistance crumbling. So, there he is on a Friday evening, seated in his still-running car in a Hawkin’s trailer park.

He stops his car in front of Eddie’s trailer and listens to the music as he gathers the willpower to leave the car.

Laughed at his long black hair, his animal grace, Bowie sings on the radio. 

How fitting

Outside, dusk is setting in and the world colors purple. Closing up Family Video had taken longer than he anticipated due to a difficult customer who couldn’t decide between The Thing and The Nightmare on Elm Street and had asked Steve extensive questions to make up his mind. 

Steve used to be fine with horror movies, but given recent developments (give or take his life the past few years), he isn’t into horror anymore. Out of the two, The Thing is probably the worst offender. Those crazy fleshy monsters hit a bit too close to home. Although, Freddie Krueger does have some vague Vecna vibes to him.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't notice the door of the trailer open until Eddie knocks on his window with his knuckle. With a jolt, Steve turns to roll his car window down. Once it is fully open, Eddie leans forward, his arms resting on the car.

“Sup Harrington.” Eddie’s hair falls forward and the low-cut tank top reveals his chest, framed by the silver chain of a guitar-pick necklace. 

Shaved, Steve notes.  Then, realizing he is staring, he tears his eyes away, coming face to face with Eddie Munson who gives him an amused look.

“Oh uh, right” – Steve coughs nervously – “Dustin asked me to give you this…” he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over to the passenger seat where he grabs the cardboard box of some nerdy game.

“Here–” He hands the box to Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Hell yeah, Talisman. Took Henderson long enough.” Eddie pushes himself away from the car and inspects the box for a moment. When he turns back to Steve, his eyes move towards the car radio.

“I didn’t take you for a Bowie fan.”

“Oh, I’m not really … Robin must have left it in. It’s … alright, I suppose.” 

“And what type of music does Steve find more than alright?” 

Eddie flashes him a cheeky smile and Steve finds himself somewhat intimidated. Whatever his answer, someone like Eddie will probably find it lame. Steve isn’t all that passionate about music anyway and mostly listens to whatever is on the radio.

“Maybe Queen, The Bee Gees…” he lists in no particular order.

Eddie tuts. “Such a proper boy.”

Although he expects it, Steve still winces.

“I should introduce you to some real music,” Eddie says thoughtfully, then – “Wanna come in?”

Steve takes a moment to think. His parents are out, so it isn’t like he’s expected at home. He has nothing to do tonight except watch some movies (perks of the job). Although the prospect of hanging out with Eddie doesn’t thrill him, it might be the more interesting option.

“Sure,” Steve turns his car off, rolls the window back up and opens the car door. Eddie takes a step back, giving Steve some room to get out. 

Eddie’s eyes move to his chest and Steve realizes he is still wearing the stupid Family Video vest. He quickly takes it off, crumples it and unceremoniously throws it in his car before shutting the door again. With a quick turn of his key, the car is locked.

Steve follows Eddie towards the trailer. It is a warm summer’s night and the shadows of the trees grow long under the purple sky. The trailer park is surrounded by ample woods and fields from which the sound of crickets flares up.

“You coming?” Eddie waits for him at the door. Steve doesn’t realize he stopped moving and quickly makes his way to where Eddie is standing.

“After you, King Steve,” Eddie says, holding open the door with a dramatic bow.

Damn, Eddie is kind of annoying, isn’t he? No wonder Dustin gets on so well with him. Two peas in a pod. Steve lets out an unamused scoff.

Once inside, Steve stands in the middle of the…living room? Kitchen? He isn’t sure what to call such multifunctional rooms. He crosses his arms and shifts his weight from one leg to the other as he waits for Eddie to put the game away.

The main room is crowded and messy. It is the complete opposite of his parents’ living room, which is kept meticulously clean and organized – with the help of their cleaning lady of course. The coffee table is stained with water circles from mugs and the like. Something unthinkable to Steve. If he ever puts a glass down without a coaster, he will face his mother’s wrath.

“Beer?” Eddie calls from the kitchen. He already turned his back to him to make his way to the under-table fridge.

“Sure.” 

Steve is getting sick of standing around and decides to move to the small beige sofa. It is littered with clothes and after a moment of hesitation, he shoves them aside and sits down.

“You’re fucking tense,” Eddie says as he hands Steve a can of beer. He looks down at the pile of clothes and without hesitation grabs them and throws them in a different corner of the room. Then he lets himself fall onto the sofa next to Steve, which objects with a loud creak.

The sofa really is quite small and granted, a bigger one probably wouldn’t fit. The middle of it sagged considerably too, dragging its occupants to the center.

Steve feels the warmth of Eddie’s jeans-clad legs against his own. They are probably sitting a bit too close and Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

The can lets out an audible hiss as Eddie opens it and takes a quick sip from his beer. Then, he puts it down on the table and jumps up again.

“Fuck, I was gonna play you some music.” He hurries past the kitchen into a separate room. 

Steve opens his own can – cheap store-brand beer – and takes a nervous gulp as he waits for Eddie to return.

He is starting to reconsider his choices this evening. Perhaps he should just have watched Back to the Future again. Instead, he is in the trailer of some guy he kinda-sorta knows because they have shared custody of some annoying kid (one of Steve’s best friends).

“Oh yes, this will be good.” Eddie re-emerges cradling a few cassettes in his arms like he is holding a baby. He squats in front of the coffee table and releases the collection of plastic cases on top of it. Steve eyes the contents, but he recognises none of it. Then he looks over at Eddie – the flesh of his knee peeks through the hole of his jeans and Steve wonders if Eddie made it himself or if it had naturally torn by use. 

Eddie shifts through the cassettes with ring-clad fingers, picking a few up and turning them around to look at the back of the plastic cases.

“Let’s start with Rainbow,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing the cassette (a hand holding a rainbow over mountains on its front). He walks over to a small side table next to the front door where an old-school cassette player stands.

With a loud click, the front of the cassette player opens and Eddie puts the cassette in and closes it again. Immediately, music starts playing.

“Fuck, hold on.”

Eddie rushes over to the kitchen, rummaging through some drawers until he finds what he is looking for.

Victoriously, he holds up a pencil to Steve and clicks his tongue. Steve takes another gulp of his beer as he watches Eddie move through the trailer with a skip in his step. He is actually excited to let Steve hear his music. Steve feels strangely flattered and he lets himself fall back on the sofa. 

The music stops and Eddie takes the cassette out. Using the back of the pencil, he rewinds the tape. Steve looks at Eddie’s hands as he works. The rings are kinda cool. Maybe he should let Robin pick out a ring for him too. Although perhaps not with skulls and crosses like Eddie wears. Maybe something more simple, like a signet ring or something.

Steve is pulled from his thoughts when he hears the cassette player click shut again. 

“Your player doesn’t rewind?” Steve asks.

“Steve” – Eddie puts the pencil behind his ear and turns to look at him – “I live in a trailer…”

Steve feels heat rise to his cheeks. 

Shit, sometimes he forgets his parents are very well off and some things are considered luxuries instead of the default. He made the same mistake with Robin too – multiple times – but it was hard to prevent. He thinks back on his car – not particularly expensive, but also not as beat-up as Jonathan’s. Does Eddie think he is some spoiled rich boy?

“Right, sorry.” Steve takes another mouthful of beer. Eddie turns around again to put the cassette in the cassette player. 

A song begins to play, the sound reminds Steve of something alien – not really like music at all. Once the drums kicks in Eddie begins to bob his head on the beat, his hands hitting an invisible drum. He dances across the room, drumming his invisible drumsticks along the wall before falling back onto the sofa, stringing his fingers as if playing a guitar.

“Shit, I should really learn this on the guitar.” He leans forward to grab his can of beer. Condensation forms on the outside and when he picks it up, a wet circle is left on the table.

Eddie kicks his feet up, white sneakers hitting the wood of the coffee table and the cassettes rattle. He takes a deep swig of his beer and audibly sighs. 

Steve leans forward, arms resting on his thighs and can between his knees. Once the music actually began, it wasn’t too bad. He didn’t understand the long intros though, and preferred it if music would just start.

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks.

“Not bad.”

“Not bad” – Eddie scoffs – “You, my friend, have not been exposed to nearly enough good music.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought Bowie was pretty acceptable by –” he looks Eddie up and down demonstratively, “ – your kind.”

“My kind, huh?” a smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s lips. “And what would that be, exactly?” 

Well, shit. Steve drove himself straight into possible-insult town. Eddie eyes him curiously, one elbow resting on the sofa’s backrest and his hands holding his can in a way Steve could only describe as cool. 

“Well, you know…” he trails off.

“I know…?”

“Eh, metalheads, I guess?”

“Ziggy Stardust isn’t metal, you know that right?”

Steve sighs exasperatedly. “I know, ugh. I mean he’s–”

“Weird?” Eddie finishes.

Steve takes another gulp of beer, desperate to compose himself. “Yeah,” he answers lamely.

“I suppose he’s pretty weird, huh?” Eddie eyes the ceiling of the trailer while taking a lazy sip from his beer. “Did you know he used to be gay?”

Steve looks to Eddie, who is still eying the ceiling, head lying back against the sofa’s backrest. 

“Used to be?” If Steve is to believe Robin, there is no ‘used to be ’ when it comes to being gay. You either are or you aren’t. Now he thinks about it, Bowie seems somewhat queer with his tight suits and styled hair, but that is what girls dig, isn't it? He has heard countless girls swoon over men just like that.

“You never had a gay phase, Harrington?” 

Steve nearly drops his can.

“Gay….phase?”

“You know, live a little, try some shit, see what sticks –”

“I can’t say I have,” Steve mumbles, his eyes now firmly fixed on the can in his hands. He plays nervously with the lip, pulling it in tandem with the music before taking another sip.

“With a pretty face like yours, you might actually get some good ones.”

Steve chokes on his beer. Actually chokes, and he hits his chest with a fist to get himself to breathe again.

“W-what?”

“How can you know what you like when you never tried it?” Eddie sits up straight, pulling one leg to his chest as he turns to Steve. His dark eyes seem like a bottomless lake and Steve feels small under his gaze.

“H-have you?” Steve stutters and it is utterly embarrassing. Why is he so rattled by some stupid revelation? 

Wait, did Eddie just call him pretty?

Eddie smirks at him like they are sharing in a secret, and perhaps they are.

“Fuck yes, if someone tells me not to do something you can bet your ass I will do it. Besides, humans are humans, big fucking deal.” 

“So – was it a phase? In your case?” Steve asks carefully. He isn’t really sure why he asks. Maybe it is part curiosity. He never seriously considered relationships with men. Some are nice enough to look at, sure, but marriage, a house, children – that is only meant for a man and a woman right? A world in which someone just casually tries homosexuality seems…foreign. 

“Hm, I guess so … Wow, don’t look at me like that Harrington. Are you disappointed?”

“W-what, no!” Steve really doesn’t know why he is getting so flustered. He suddenly feels self-conscious under Eddie’s piercing eyes and runs a hand through his hair – a nervous habit.

“Fuck, you are – well, alright, maybe for you I can arrange an encore.”

Before Steve has time to respond, Eddie pushes himself upright and leans one knee on the sofa between Steve’s legs. He feels the cold metal of Eddie’s rings under his chin as he lays a sprawled hand on his throat and tilts his head. 

Steve freezes, air caught in his chest as Eddie leans over his face, his breath hot on his lips. Steve’s right hand uselessly holds on to the near-empty can – afraid to spill it – while his left hand digs into the sofa next to his thighs. Then, Eddie leans down, capturing his lips with practiced ease. Steve feels his long hair tickle his cheeks and the scruff of a five-o-clock shadow grace his chin. 

Eddie’s lips move over his, slightly chapped and rough in a way that couldn’t possibly be a girl. Without meaning to, Steve feels his own lips move against Eddie’s. 

Well, now he couldn't pretend it was just something happening to him. He had graduated to an active participant. 

Kissing Eddie Munson. Eddie freaking Munson.  

Robin was going to have a field day.

Perhaps the most surprising part is how he doesn’t hate it. He likes the feeling of stubble on his chin, the hard corners of Eddie’s jaw, the way Eddie pushes him back onto the sofa and he wills Steve’s mouth open with a sweep of a thumb and the cold metal of rings on his face. A hot tongue explores his mouth, stroking it against Steve’s in a way that makes him gasp.

Steve has never experienced anything like it. Usually with the girls he dated, he took the lead. Kisses were usually shy and timid. Eddie is completely different. He knows what he wants and he isn’t afraid to get it. Steve feels something stir in him as he presses back.

Eddie bites his bottom lip, taking it between his lips, and breaks away from him. Steve feels breathless and blinks up at Eddie. His hand reaches over to Steve’s right side, gently taking the can from his hand and setting it away on the coffee table. He turns back, eyes dark and Steve wills his mouth close as he regards him. 

Was he gay? Shit, he doesn’t really want to think about it now. Humans are humans was what Eddie had said right?

Steve reaches out, sliding his hands behind Eddie’s neck, and pulls him back. Eddie moves himself into a more comfortable position, placing a knee on either side of Steve’s thighs and straddling him. Eddie’s hands reach for Steve’s temples, threading themselves through Steve’s hair – rings catch on the strands but Steve doesn’t mind the painful sting as it pulls. He just wants to get Eddie’s lips back on his – and so he does.

Their lips meet, fiery and hot. Open-mouthed Steve explores every corner of Eddie. He lowers his hands to Eddie’s back, playing on the edge of his tanktop and the hot skin underneath. If it works for girls, surely it works for guys too right?

He runs his hands up the side of Eddie’s chest, a thumb over a nipple, and Eddie gasps into his mouth. Steve feels heat settle in his crotch and he is glad he chose to wear jeans made of thick fabric rather than thin trousers. Steve’s hands move over Eddie’s chest, feeling the smooth muscle of it and the roughness of regrowing chest hair.

Eddie’s fingers reach the hair on the back of Steve’s head and yank it back, exposing Steve’s throat. He lets out a surprised yelp when he feels Eddie’s mouth latch to the delicate bow of his neck and suck. 

Steve is learning a lot about himself in the span of less than an hour. The way Eddie tugs his hair, and has his way with him is sending a pleasant jolt straight to his cock.  And Steve can’t help but moan under the ministrations of Eddie’s mouth as he sucks and bites. 

“Y-you’re gonna leave a mark,” Steve breathes.

“That’s the plan,” Eddie mouths against his neck. Then, he licks his way up into Steve’s mouth again.

Shit, he is kinda into this. Steve isn’t sure how he could ever go back to girls now he knows what it feels like to be touched by calloused fingers and kissed with such force. 

Eddie’s hand leaves his hair and travels down to the rim of his jeans, pulling out his shirt in the process. Steve feels the ghost of fingers running along its edge and the muscles in his stomach tense pleasantly in response.

Eddie breaks away from him, his breath ghosting over his lips as he searches Steve’s eyes. 

“You wanna take this further?” Eddie asks, his eyes flitting over Steve’s face.

Steve feels drunk, even though half a can of beer isn’t nearly enough to even get him close to being buzzed. He is also turned on. Ridiculously so. But fuck, what does taking it further even mean in this context. Steve feels like a virgin all over again and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to hide his arousal from Eddie.

Not that they are not actively engaged anymore, anxiety hits Steve like a bag of bricks.

“Uhh…” is all Steve manages to utter.

Eddie throws himself off Steve’s lap onto the empty spot next to him on the sofa. He puts his feet on the table again, hands behind his head.

“You’re right, maybe that’s enough for tonight.” 

It doesn’t escape Steve that Eddie’s jeans look a little tighter than usual.

They sit in silence for a moment, only the voice of Rainbow’s singer cutting through the tension. 

“I thought you said it was a phase,” Steve asks after he finally gets his breathing under control.

“Oh right, I should have clarified” – Eddie grins up at the ceiling – “The gay thing was a phase. I figured I was into both.”

Both? Wasn’t that something only hippies preached with their free love? Somewhere, Steve feels a wave of relief washes over him. He never seriously considered someone could like both. He has some serious soul-searching to do once he gets home.

“Huh,” is all Steve replies. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks in interest as he side-eyes Steve.

“I, uh…probably should get going.” Steve puts his hands on his thighs and pushes himself up. Eddie doesn’t move from his position, but his eyes follow him with interest.

“If you’re ever in the mood for a sequel, you know where to find me.” 

Steve nods, because what else can you do in reply to such a comment? He is baffled at the ease with which the words escape Eddie. There is no shame or self-doubt.

As he lays his hand on the door handle, Steve looks back one final time. Eddie’s feet are bouncing in tandem with the beat of the drums and his eyes are closed. He looks so absolutely unshaken by their encounter that Steve feels almost jealous.

Steve is anything but unshaken.

“See you around,” he offers.

“See you, Harrington,” Eddie’s voice is playful, even though he doesn’t move.

When Steve is safe and sound in the driver’s seat of his car, he leans his head against the steering wheel and stays there for a moment. 

What the hell just happened?

He turns his mirror to his neck and traces the hickey that Eddie left on his throat with a finger. He would have to ask Robin for some make-up to cover that up. 

She is going to love this story.

Steve sighs and pushes the mirror back into its original position. When he starts the car, Bowie continues to sing like nothing happened.

Yes, he was alright, his song went on forever, Bowie sings and Steve groans as he hits the gas.

***

It is Saturday morning when Steve walks up to the Buckley residence. He passes the garden fence and walks around the house to the backdoor.

Hawkins was struck by the beginning of a heatwave and at this point, the temperature was bearable as long as one didn't move too much. The perfect day for a visit to the pool, but too hot for videos. 

Which is why Steve is sure today won’t be too busy at Family Video. Fine by him. 

The quiet days he works with Robin are always his favorite. Sometimes Henderson comes over – either with his friends or alone – and they mess around with the cardboard cut-outs or watch a movie on the little TV screen hanging from the ceiling. Steve has zero regrets about missing out on college. Everything he loves is right here in Hawkins.

He pulls at the red handkerchief around his neck. It is against company policy to wear scarves (and probably too hot too) but Steve needs something to cover up the damage of his little adventure with Eddie. At least, until he gets his hands on some skin paint stuff – or whatever girls call that type of make-up.

He enters through the backdoor straight into the kitchen, where he finds Robin’s mother clearing the table of breakfast plates. The room smells faintly like toast.

“Morning, Ms. Buckley!” he calls, already moving towards the hallway. Steve hears her respond, but he's halfway up the stairs by then.

“Rob!”

“Just a second!” Her voice is muffled. She opens her door, fixing an earring. Her eyes flick to his scarf before meeting his gaze.

“Geez, you’re early.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve walks straight past her and throws himself on her unmade bed.  Robin pays him no mind and she walks over to her dresser again. From his spot on the bed, Steve can see Robin's face reflected in the mirror as she fusses with her hair. When she reaches for a pouch, Steve is suddenly reminded of why he is early to begin with. 

“Do you have that face-stuff?” he asks as he sees Robin pull a pencil from the pouch.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific than ‘face stuff’.”

“You know, the skin-colored goo.” Steve makes motions over his face as if he’s painting.

“Concealer?” Robin’s mouth is open in concentration as she lines her waterline with black.

“That’s it!” Steve throws himself off the bed and walks over to Robin.

“Sure, I’ve got some,” Robin puts down her pencil and rummages through the pouch again. She pulls out a small beige bottle and holds it up for Steve. He reaches for it, but Robin pulls away.

“Does this have anything to do with your avant-garde fashion statement today?” She looks at his scarf again.

Steve laughs sheepishly and pulls his scarf aside. Robin’s eyes widen at the dark hickey on his neck.

“Jesus, Steve! It’s massive” – she leans in closer – “Was it Rebecca? Never thought she’d be the type...” Robin reaches for his neck but Steve pulls away.

“What? No!” – Steve lets go of the scarf – “I stopped seeing her like five weeks ago. Get with the times, Rob.”

“Well, sorry I can’t keep up with your busy love life.” Robin turns back to the mirror. She definitely isn’t sorry and Steve wouldn’t exactly call the origin of the hickey ‘love’. A lapse of judgment, maybe, or something uniquely in the corner of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. 

“Can I get the stuff now?”

“Fine,” she says and she pushes the bottle in his hands.

***

Outside the car, the world passes in a flash of yellow fields. The windows are down and the scent of drying grass fills the air. Steve turns the music up to drown out the thundering sound of the wind as it enters the car and drums his fingers on the steering wheel while he uselessly mouths along with the music. He doesn’t know the lyrics, but that can’t stop him. The fact it annoys Robin when he does so makes it even more fun in his opinion.

“You’re in a good mood,” Robin remarks while she digs through her bag.

“It’s a beautiful day and I’m working with my best friend,” Steve chirps.

“Uhuh, right,” she replies skeptically. She puts her bag back between her legs on the car floor and fiddles with something in her hands.

Steve’s eyes are focused on the road before him when the music suddenly stops.

“Hey! I was listening to that!”

“I thought you said Bowie was ‘overrated trash’” Robin says while opening the case to another cassette. 

“I didn’t,”

“You so did, and you called his pants too tight,”

“Whatever, driver decides,” 

Robin sighs and pushes the cassette back in. “When I get my license, it will be Blondie all day every day. You better prepare yourself, dingus!”

Steve hums in satisfaction as the music comes back on. Maybe he found it somewhat grating in the beginning, but it was growing on him now. That, of course, had nothing to do with Eddie Munson.

“Did you know he used to be gay?” Steve suddenly says.

“Bisexual, Steve, and of course I know that. The question is, why do you?” From his periphery, he can see Robin staring at him.

“I just heard it somewhere,”

“Somewhere…” Robin repeated. She leans over to put the other cassette back in her bag. 

Steve is relieved when he sees Family Video come into view. It’s not like Robin will forget their conversation, she is far too smart for that. And he really does plan on telling her about what happened yesterday, he just has to find the right moment. Hell, maybe it wouldn’t even be today. 

Steve pulls into the parking space and hops out of the car. He locks his door and throws the keys over the car to Robin. She fumbles in her attempt to catch it and Steve is once again reminded that Robin is a band dweeb and not an athlete.

“Let’s open this baby up,” he says as he tosses the store keys into the air and catches them overhand.

“You’re such a show-off” – she walks past Steve into the store and continues without looking back – “For your information, there are no girls around…”

“Yet,” Steve finishes and Robin groans in response.

There wouldn’t be any girls around for most of the day as it turned out. 

As Steve expected, it was a slow day. The only people who visited were those who probably wouldn’t be found dead sunbathing, nerds who never stepped outside (except to rent a video, apparently), and old people looking for something nice to watch with their grandkids. 

Somewhere between the shelves, Robin is putting returned VHS tapes into their rightful place. Meanwhile, Steve sorts through new arrivals and adds them to the computer system. In the back of the shop,  a guy has been staring at some science fiction movies for probably half an hour by now. Category basement nerd, Steve decides.

They had been working in relative solitude. Steve looks up as he hears the bell signal someone’s entrance. He is greeted with a curly head of hair.

“Henderson!” Steve stands up and throws himself over the counter. The secret handshake is a must and cannot be skipped. 

Shake, box, Star Wars sword thing, guts.

Dustin smiles wildly at him. 

Just as Steve is spilling his guts, the bell chimes again. He looks up, readying himself to apologize to the poor customer he has no doubt scared off with his wild gestures when he comes face to face with dark bottomless eyes.

“Munson,” Steve is probably gawking, at least a little and Eddie looks amused at the scene in front of him.

Dustin, oblivious to it all, immediately starts talking. 

“I was just about to grab my bike when I ran into Eddie. He offered me a ride in his van. Mom’s at the pool today, says it’s too hot to stay indoors; she practically kicked me out of the house,”

“Right,” Steve wasn’t even looking at Dustin as he yapped on. He somehow couldn’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s. It was strange seeing him in daylight now. The darkness of dusk had made their whole interaction the night prior seem like a dream. Now, face to face with Eddie, Steve was hit by the reality of what had transpired. He felt profoundly awkward.

“ – You should totally get a van, Steve!” Dustin’s voice pulls Steve from his thoughts and he tears his eyes away.

“Y-yeah, probably not. I like my car,” he composed himself, deciding to focus his attention on Dustin rather than Eddie.

“Hey Dustin”  – Robin walks from behind the shelves, carrying a now-empty crate. Her eyes land on Eddie with a hint of surprise – “Hey Eddie,”

“Got anything good yet?” Dustin asks Robin eagerly.

“You’re in luck–” Robin says as she puts the crate away, “We just added The Dark Crystal to our collection,”

“Sweet!” He hears Dustin call when Robin leads him away to one of the shelves in the back.

Steve is left alone with Eddie and doesn’t know how to compose himself. A part of him feels nervous under Eddie’s dark gaze. 

Eddie walks over to the counter and leans against it.

“Cool gig,” Eddie says as he looks around the store. “Do you ever get to keep the cardboard cut-outs?” Eddie points his finger at a life-size cut-out of Indiana Jones that stands proudly at the front of the store. Steve’s eyes involuntary drift back to his fingers again and he really ought to stop that. Sooner or later, Eddie will catch him staring.

“I don’t, but Keith does sometimes,” 

“Sweet,”

A silence falls between them and Eddie kicks his feet. The guy in the back still hasn’t made up his mind and a little distance away Dustin is eagerly explaining something about the ‘Gelflings’ to Robin.

“Hey, uh, are you doing anything next Friday?” Eddie asks suddenly. 

“Nothing yet,” Steve is desperately trying to stop his heart from beating at such an insistent pace and he hopes his voice comes out as nonchalant as he intends it to.

“You wanna…I don’t know…hang out or something?”

‘ Or something’. What does ‘or something’ mean ?

“Yeah, I– …yeah, sure” Steve fumbles a bit, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. A smile grows on his face.

“Cool,” Eddie says.

He pushes himself away from the counter and walks up to a shelf to inspect some of the movies. He leans forward, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet, and hums a song that sounds vaguely familiar. Steve stares at the interlaced fingers behind his back – adorned with silver rings – and shivers at the memory of their coolness against his neck.

“Cool,” Steve echoes.

***

The whole week, Steve had thought of countless excuses to cancel hanging out with Eddie on Friday, but in the end, none of them carried any weight. He couldn’t get Eddie of his freaking mind and the sappy romance movies that played on the television screen at work didn’t help either.

Eddie had visited Family Video again – once – with Dustin to return a movie. Apparently, they regularly hung out when Steve was busy at work and he felt something akin to jealousy. He had always been Dustin’s role model. Heck, the kid even started wearing his hair like him (thank you, Farrah Fawcett). That was until Eddie somehow inserted himself into the equation. Now, Dustin had grown out his hair and was wearing that ridiculous Hellfire shirt religiously; so often, Steve sometimes wondered if it was ever washed at all. 

Eddie had corrupted him, and maybe he had corrupted Steve a little bit as well.

“You seem nervous,” Robin remarks as she flips through a folder, biting in the back of a ballpen. 

“Well, I’m no–” Before Steve can finish his sentence, Robin continues.

“I haven’t heard you talk about your dates the whole week. Whoever gave you that ridiculous hickey has some serious hold over you –”

Steve feels his shoulders tense. The idea of Eddie having any kind of hold over him was crazy. Steve is cool, Steve is casual. Steve is definitely not nervous about his casual hangout with Eddie tonight.

“ –It’s Friday, aren’t you supposed to be on like three different dates tonight?” she continues.

“Uhm, well–”

“And you’ve been acting weird all week. Things are adding up to a very weird sum. The ‘buying thirty watermelons’ kind of weird sum.”

“You have such a way with words,” Steve rolls his eyes as he finally regains his composure.

“Steve!” Robin throws her pen at his head. He ducks, but the pen hits him anyway.

“Robin!” he mimics her tone.

“It’s someone’s mom, isn’t it? God, Steve–” Robin pulls a face in disgust.

“It’s not someone’s mom! Geez, Rob, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind that acts all mysterious and weird, and suddenly listens to music he hates!”

Maybe going out of his way to buy a Rainbow cassette had been somewhat uncharacteristic. Of course, Robin would pick up on that.

“A guy can expand his tastes…” he trails, hit by the ambiguity of his statement.

Robin sighs, picks up her pen from the floor and gives him an irritated glance. 

Steve hears the bell chime just as he closes the door to the vault in which they store cash overnight. It is only a couple of minutes before closing time and Steve grunts audibly as he raises himself into a standing position. Entering a shop this close to closing time is a certified dick move and Steve is not above sending whoever entered away, customer service be damned. 

“We’re closed!” he yells as he walks back into the shop from the backroom. 

“Eddie’s here for you,” Robin calls without looking back at Steve. 

Sure enough, Eddie is standing at the counter. He is wearing a tank top and his hair is pulled up into a messy bun; his skin gleams with sweat from the heat outside and around his neck hangs a wiry set of headphones. Wind from the air conditioner pulls at his hair. When their eyes meet, a smile creeps on his face.

“Sup, Harrington…I’ve brought the van.” He holds the keys up demonstratively, dangling them from his index finger.

"He brought the van!" Robin exclaims looking back at Steve, her eyebrows raised and a sly smile playing on her lips. Steve can almost see the moment of realization dawn upon her as if a lightbulb had been switched on in her mind.

Steve scratches the back of his head. “I promised Robin a ride back–” 

“No problem, We’ll drop her off. I’ll bring you back to pick up your car later.” 

Steve casts Robin a quick glance and she shrugs in response.

“If Robin’s fine with it…” he trails.

“A van,” Robin whispers as Steve joins her at the counter and elbows him in his arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, but still can’t fight the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

***

Twigs crack under Steve’s shoes as he follows Eddie through the forest. The canopy of the trees offers ample shadow and Steve finds the heat more bearable here than when they had been walking alongside the road. Still, his shirt clings to his back and sweat is slicking his hair as Steve runs a hand through it. 

When Eddie asked him to hang out, he didn’t expect they would be hiking through the forest behind the trailer park during a freaking heatwave. 

He looks over to Eddie. His bangs cling to his forehead and the veins on his arms are thick as his body fights to keep cool. Despite the oppressive heat, there's a glint of excitement in Eddie's eyes.

“There it is.” Eddie stops and looks somewhere in the distance. Steve squints and follows Eddie’s gaze. Between the trees, he can see the shimmer of water, and he realizes Eddie has taken them to Lover’s lake. 

When they near the water, Eddie ups his pace, stepping around some of the bigger rocks and boulders near the lake’s edge like he has done it a thousand times before. Steve tries to keep up, but his unfamiliarity with the landscape slows him down.

At last, he is standing on the pebbled lakeside. The sun is already lowering itself into the embrace of dusk and Steve thinks they have maybe two hours of light left before sundown. He looks to his right where he sees Eddie standing above a pile of wood. When he gets closer, Steve realizes it is actually an old stranded fisher’s boat.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Eddie remarks.

Steve looks the boat over. It’s medium sized and some of its wood has rotted away. A good portion of it is covered in graffiti, and half of it sits in the water. It has probably been there for years.

“You bring all your conquests here?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie climb onto the boat. The question is mostly meant to be lighthearted, yet he feels a sense of anticipation as he waits for Eddie to reach the deck. 

Eddie squats and looks down on him. “Nah, just you.” 

Somehow, those words make Steve’s heart flutter and his cheeks heat up. He quickly looks away, pretending to search for footing to scale the boat.

When Steve reaches the deck, Eddie is sitting cross-legged facing the lake. 

“This is a nice place,” Steve says, sitting next to Eddie. He lets his feet dangle from the side and follows Eddie’s gaze. Across the lake, some people linger, cooling down before heading back to their hot homes. Some children are playing in the shallows and their joyful screams carry over the water.

“Your work?” Steve asks as he gestures to some of the writing on the boat. The wood is covered in crude phrases, names, and dates – some of them are carved, but most look to be written with a sharpie.

“Some of it is.” Eddie pulls out a pocket knife from his jeans and hands it to Steve. “You can add to it if you want.”

Steve turns the knife in his hand. It is a classic red Swiss knife and it lays heavy in his hand. 

“Here–” Eddie twists around and Steve follows suit. Eddie’s fingers are tracing the wood behind them, running them over the carvings in the wood. “– I think I did this about a year ago.”

Eddie removes his hands and Steve can finally get a good look. It’s nothing crazy, just a simple ‘Eddie was here’ carved in crude scratches – eternalised in some rotting wood in a town no one cares about.

Eddie holds up his hand to Steve and he realizes he is asking for his knife back. Steve hands it over.

Eddie flips out the knife and bends himself over the carving. Steve turns back around, looking over the lake again as the sound of scratching fills his ears.

“All done!” Eddie says after a while.

When Steve turns back, he sees his name freshly carved into the wood, right above Eddie’s original carving.

Steve + Eddie was here

“You wanted to immortalize this?” Steve asks amused.

Eddie flips the knife closed again and shoves it into his pocket. “A year ago, I’d never thought I’d be sitting here with Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. Guess that’s pretty fucking special.” Eddie casts him a toothy grin. 

Steve had to agree though. If someone had told him a year ago he would be hanging out with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson on a Friday evening – rather than spend his night on a date or at a party – he would have declared them crazy.

“I suppose so,” Steve replies.

All is quiet for a moment, save the sound of leaves rustling by a welcome breeze. Steve closes his eyes as the wind kisses his sweaty skin.

“I got you something,” Eddie says, breaking the silence and he stands up. Steve’s gaze follows him and his eyes widen when he sees Eddie move his hands over his head to pull his tank top off. 

“But let's take a dip first…it’s hot as balls.” He throws the sweaty tank top at Steve, who slaps it out of the air before it can hit him. The fabric lands heavily on the wooden deck.

“I didn’t bring my trunks,” 

“You don’t need those here.” Eddie gives him a knowing smile as he kicks on his shoes.

Eddie is lean and he has a nice back, Steve thinks. Not particularly broad like some of his former teammates on the swimming team, but not bad for a guy who spends his time playing board games. His torso is littered with fading scars from the Upside Down and Steve has a fair amount of those himself.

“Get on with it, Harrington!” Eddie is already stripped to his underwear when Steve tears his eyes away and finally tugs his own shirt over his head.

A dip in the lake was a fantastic idea and Steve felt himself relax now that he was slowly but surely cooling down to more humane temperatures.

Steve tries to keep his eyes away from Eddie as they make their way back to the boat. The fabric of his boxers is clinging to his skin.

Eddie lays himself down on the deck, using his jeans as a pillow while he fiddles with his headphones. 

“C’mere Steve.” Eddie pats the space next to him and Steve reluctantly seats himself. Eddie is working the buttons of a walkman.

“Remember when I said I got you something?”

“That was like twenty minutes ago,” Steve feels borderline offended at the implication.

Eddie gestures for Steve to lay down as well and Steve complies begrudgingly, resting his head next to Eddie’s on his crumpled jeans while he stares up at the blue sky. He feels exposed in just his boxers and now Eddie wants them to lay side by side.

“Here.” Eddie hands him one half of the headphones while holding the other side to his own ears. Suddenly it dawns on Steve why they’re lying as they are. Eddie wants to let him listen to music. Steve moves half of the headphones to his ear and sure enough music starts playing.

“I put some things together I thought you might like.” Steve can see Eddie turn his head towards him from his periphery and study his face.

“You made me a mixtape?” Steve asks. The idea of Eddie putting together a mixtape for him was…well, really thoughtful.

“Now you say it out loud it sounds kinda lame,” Eddie laughs.

“No, it– it’s really nice.” Steve offers. 

He closes his eyes and listens to the unfamiliar tunes. Eddie did quite a good job at picking music that he might like. It is definitely less intense than Rainbow – the voices are less shrill, the guitar less cutting, and the drums beat at a lower frequency. It’s nice, ridiculously nice, and Steve can’t think of an instance when someone has ever taken the time to put something together for him like this – not even his ex-girlfriends.

They lay there for a while, each holding one end of the headphone. The people on the other side of the lake must have left by now because the only things Steve can hear are birdsong, the sound of rustling leaves, and the music that comes from the walkman. The breeze feels cool against his damp body, and he wonders why he had never done this before – stay at the lake until the sun went down.

Steve can almost feel himself drift asleep when Eddie nudges him.

“Steve.” Eddie shakes him gently by his shoulder.

“Hm, lemme be…” he whines without opening his eyes.

“You’re gonna be mosquito food.” Beside him, he hears Eddie getting up and when Steve finally opens his eyes, Eddie is already wearing his tank top. 

Steve hadn’t realized how long they had laid there. Only a small line of sun was visible in the distance and Eddie’s figure was dark against the pastel sky.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna need my pants,” Eddie says as he points at Steve’s head.

“Oh right.” Steve finally sits up, handing Eddie the makeshift pillow of his jeans.

Once they’re both dressed, Eddie leads them back through the forest. The sky is pink and the trees form black outlines against it. Steve walks after Eddie, who points out when to be mindful of a hidden boulder or a sudden dip in the forest floor. 

They take Eddie’s van back to Family Video so Steve can get his car. The whole car ride, Steve can’t help the feeling of nervousness that sits in his stomach. 

Today kinda felt like a date. 

Normally he would be on the other end of it – driving a girl home after a movie or something. And then, once he stops the car in front of her house, the girl would fidget and Steve would place his arm on the back of her car seat, confident and reassuring. He would tell her he had a good time and if she did as well, he would seal the deal with a kiss.

But this was Eddie, and they had been just two guys hanging out. 

Two guys that had made out a week ago. 

But that didn’t mean anything. It had just been Steve’s one-day gay phase and he got it out of his system now, hadn’t he? Eddie had only offered out of a misunderstanding, or maybe some weird kindness.

Shit, this train of thought was not helping Steve whatsoever. If anything, it had just made the nervous flutter in his stomach worse.

Eddie stops the van and the red neon light of Family Video plays with the curves of his face.

“There we are.” Eddie pushes himself back into his seat with his arms stretched on the steering wheel. Steve makes no movement to get out. They sit in silence for a while.

“About last week–” Steve starts. If he doesn’t acknowledge it now, he feels like he might go crazy. Besides, he doesn’t know when or if they’ll have another moment alone.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone. We can forget about it if you want…” Eddie says without looking at him. His shoulders are tense and his grip on the steering wheels seems to harden.

“No…it’s not–” Steve tries, but Eddie cuts him off.

“Don’t worry Steve, I get it. I know what people say about me –”

“But–”

“ –and it doesn’t have to mean anything. People make out all the time–”

Steve unbuckles his seatbelt. He’s kind of sick of Eddie not letting him finish his sentences and is ready to return the favor.

He leans over, turning Eddie’s head towards him and kisses him. Hard.

Eddie’s mouth is parted, mid-sentence, and Steve feels teeth beneath his lips. By all accounts, it’s a shoddy kiss – not his best work – but it seems to do the trick.

Eddie loses his grip on the steering wheel, hands moving to Steve’s shoulders instead as he eagerly returns the sentiment.

“Fuck, Harrington, aren’t you full of surprises,” Eddie breaths against his lips.

Steve leans back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair.

“You talk too much,” he says as he opens the door of the van.

By the time he hears Eddie get out of his van, Steve is already opening the door to his  BMW.

“Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls as he jogs over. When he’s standing in front of Steve, he pulls at Steve’s arm, running his hand down and urging Steve’s palm up. He shoves something square in his hand and closes Steve’s fingers around it.

“Next Friday, same time?” Eddie asks him, searching his eyes.

Steve nods silently. He stares after Eddie as he walks back to his van. He opens the door and turns one last time, giving Steve a two-fingered salute before getting in. 

Steve hears the sound of the motor swinging on and looks at his hand. In the dim neon light, he stares down at a small cassette. Steve can hardly read the black letters in the red light, but he realizes Eddie has written something on its white label.

From Freak, to Hair. 

[AO3]

[kirain]

Wall of the faithless isn't canon in bg3. They changed alot of things actually. So no Gale isn't "scared" he's just an obsessed asshole who doesn't learn from his mistakes.

Oof...

There's really nothing I can say except: you're wrong. The City of Judgement and the Wall of the Faithless are canon to BG3. If you don't like Gale, that's fine, but you don't have to make things up or completely disregard the lore to do it. Larian Studios literally hired people from Wizards of the Coast—the company responsible for all the canon lore, characters, and campaigns in D&D—to help them with the story. It took them five years, I believe, to fully study and understand the lore. They constantly conferred with the team to double, triple, and quadruple check every slice of content they added to the game, and parts of the game are now considered canon to D&D 5E.

As for Gale "not learning" from his mistakes ... when you first meet him, he literally admits he made a mistake with Mystra. Though personally I don't see it as the "power-hungry" move people seem to think it is. Gale simply wanted to be considered an equal to his partner (really his groomer), which is a perfectly healthy and normal desire for anyone in a relationship. Your partner should treat you like an equal, but Mystra very clearly saw Gale as a pet. A trophy. A worshipper. Subservient. Beneath her. A silly mortal with delusions of grandeur (which she cultivated), which is really rich when you learn she was once mortal herself. Mystra is a hypocrite.

Gale tried to prove himself worthy of equality by trying to bring Mystra what he thought was a piece of her missing Weave. For anyone who doesn't know, the current Mystra was torn to pieces by Cyric and Shar, then put back together by her Chosen. Though back to full power by the events of BG3, she's still technically missing pieces of herself, and Gale mistook the Karsite Weave for one of those pieces. Instead of simply telling Gale it was corrupted Weave, she let him go on believing it was hers. Personally I think that's because she was tired of him (maybe he got too old for her 😒) and was hoping he would do something that, in her mind, would justify abandoning him—but I admit that's full conjecture on my part. What is true is that she knew the orb wasn't hers, but for some reason she let Gale think it was. Even after she abandoned him and left him to die, she never told him. Not until she realised she could use him.

In Act 3, while the argument can certainty be made that he's thirsty for power, Gale ultimately becomes fed up with the gods because, as he knows better than anyone, they treat people like commodities. While I have no intention of ever ascending him myself, it looks like he actually makes good on his word. He doesn't threaten or toy with his followers, he inspires people to walk their own path, he only asks for prayers as payment (as without some form of devotion, gods in D&D cease to be), and if you romance him ... he ascends you into godhood as his equal. Mystra could have done this for him, she just didn't want to. And if you don't want him to ascend, it's genuinely so easy. I don't understand what people are complaining about. It takes one conversation with zero checks to convince him to completely abandon his ambitions. One. If he was truly "power hungry", it wouldn't be that easy.

Again, I would argue that Gale's true goal isn't really power, it's freedom, and divinity gives him that freedom. He has many conversations where he makes it clear he doesn't want to live under the gods' thumbs anymore; which, in a world like Faerûn, is extremely understandable. As I said in my Wall of the Faithless post, he's scared. Eternal torment for a simple mistake, one of which could've been avoided if Mystra told him the truth or treated him like an equal? When your partner is a goddess, how can you not feel inadequate? And if you convince him to give up the crown, he's perfectly content with Mystra's forgiveness. Even in the Early Access, that's all he really wanted.

Gale's far from perfect. He's arrogant and overconfident and insecure and he can be prone to emotional outbursts (most of which he apologises for, however), but he's nowhere near the heartless, power-hungry monster the haters seem to think he is. He is, in fact, one of the most compassionate companions in the entire camp, to the point that he accepts everyone, including Minthara. He votes for Astarion to stay when you find out he's a vampire. He gets mad at you if you surrender him to the Gur. He's one of the only companions who will openly marry/stay with you if you become a mindflayer. He's willing to sacrifice himself to save the world, and willing to damn himself to be with you. He loves every act of kindness, while hating every act of cruelty. I understand that the bugs from launch ruined a lot of people's perception of him ... and unfortunately some of those glitches are still present even now, but he is a good man.

[mahgyu]

Thinking about Toji, who only realizes what he truly feels for you when he sees you happy with someone else.

Toji used to tell himself that you were just another woman he used for sex and nothing more. However, weeks turned into months, and even though he kept saying that you weren't anything special in his life, the situation was actually completely different.

You already spent more time in his small apartment than in your own. When he woke up in the morning, it wasn't with Megumi poking and asking him to prepare breakfast anymore because you promptly woke up before to do it. You did so much for them and never expected anything in return.

Speaking of Megumi, he also began to develop a strong bond with you. You always played together, watched movies, and you even helped with homework when you could. Megumi always looked at you with admiration, as if you were the mother figure he didn't even realize he needed. Toji might have displayed the facade of an unshakable man, but deep down, only he knew how much witnessing these domestic moments affected him.

But, in a way, Toji felt inadequate for you. He was just a troubled single father trying to stay alive, with a questionable job and a life that felt more like a rollercoaster. He looked at you and saw an incredible woman, full of life and potential, while he saw himself as someone who would only hold you back. You deserved more than just sex and a miserable life beside him.

Toji tried to end things by acting like a bad guy, a personality he always portrays to everyone but never before to you, behaving like a jerk so that you would hate him and feel nothing for him but contempt. He was cold, distant, and even cruel in his words. He knew he was hurting you, but it was the simplest way out.

He saw the pain in your eyes when you finally accepted his words and distanced yourself, leaving him alone with his regret and loneliness. Deep down, he hoped you would find someone better, someone who could give you everything he couldn't.

But as time passed, the pain of separation only grew in Toji. He tried to fill the void with more work, giving more attention to Megumi — who didn't make things easier by constantly asking why you had abandoned them. He even sought out other women for sexual satisfaction, but it didn't help. They weren't you; nothing could take you out of Toji's mind. He constantly wondered if he had made the right choice, if he had done what was best for both.

Months later, Toji saw you from afar, leaving a coffee shop, happy with another man. In one hand, a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and beside you, a well-dressed man, with neatly combed blond hair and a serene expression on his face as he briefly sealed his lips on yours. Toji's heart clenched in a way he had never felt before, seeing you smiling and radiant beside someone else made Toji realize how foolish he had been. He realized he had let slip away the best thing that had ever happened to him, all because of stubbornness and egocentrism.

At that moment, Toji realized that you were everything he had ever wanted, and that he had made the biggest mistake of his life by letting you go. He wished he could turn back time and fix his choices, but he knew he couldn't. All that was left for him was regret and the memory of the love he let slip away. He would never forgive himself.

I'll give a gift to whoever can guess who the other man I described at the end is ᵔ⤙ᵔ

I haven't fixed it yet so sorry for any mistakes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

[wwilsonbarness]

i can't do this anymore

pairings: bucky barnes x y/n reader  

summary: You overhear Bucky’s conversation with your friends and assume the worst but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

warnings: ANGSTTT, fluffy ending, mention of marriage, more angst “I’m sorry i can’t help it), miscommunication. 

word count: 3665

a/n: I’m in serious need of miscommunication fics (I'm a sucker for angst) so I’d be grateful for any recommendations!! Enjoy <3 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Buck? Can you pass my clothes?” You had just stepped out of the shower and realised you left your clothes in your room, but Bucky didn’t answer. “Buck?” He still didn’t answer so you wrapped your towel around you and headed through to see the room empty. You begin to get dressed before you hear Sam’s voice from the living room, he wasn’t supposed to be here for another half hour. Every week Bucky and Sam took it in turns to host dinner for the three of you and Sam’s girlfriend, Olivia. This week was yours and Bucky’s turn to host and you were super excited to serve your new recipe. Hearing the voices made you even more excited, but stressed as you still had some cooking to do before they were supposed to be here. You finish getting dressed and apply a little bit of makeup as quickly as you can. These dinners weren’t formal so it didn’t take long to get ready, they were mostly just so Sam and Bucky had some comfort after their missions, especially recently with them having to deal with John Walker. You take one last look in the mirror before heading through, until you hear something that stops you in your step.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised.. one look at you two and it’s obvious,” Sam tried to whisper but failed. “how are you gonna do it?”  Do what? You were confused what they were talking about, part of was tempted to interrupt but your curiosity took over. 

“I don’t know.. It’s just..” Bucky was stuttering which he only did when he was nervous, this really made you worry about what they were talking about. “It’s just she’s different from other girls, you know? And I know we haven’t been together that long but I can’t do it anymore. Do what anymore? “It’s not like I don’t love what we have but I just feel like I need more” More? You couldn’t help but overthink what you were hearing. They were talking about you, you weren't enough for him. I mean sure you’d thought that about yourself so many times but hearing it from the man you truly thought was the love of your life hurt. 

“I know what it’s like when you find the one, it’s the best feeling in the world.” You couldn’t see this but Sam had kissed Olivia’s head after his words. “This is gonna be good for you man, I’m happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to hear anymore, the tears were already fighting their way out. You quietly walk back into your bedroom and try and calm down, you just had to get through tonight, just tonight and then you and Bucky could talk. You were at your happiest with Bucky, you thought Bucky was too but.. you didn’t even want to finish that thought. Bucky’s happiness was the most important thing to you, and if that meant he wasn’t with you anymore you would have to find a way to get through that. No matter how hard it would be for you, you just wanted him to be happy.

You took a few minutes to compose yourself,  your eyes were red and a little puffy but not enough for anyone to notice. You hoped anyway. This time when you left your bedroom you made sure to close the door loud enough so they could hear you coming and hopefully change the subject. 

“Hey guys, you’re early.” you said as you walked in, Sam and Olivia both stood up to give you a hug as you came in. 

“Yeah sorry we were just a couple blocks over and it didn’t make sense going all the way back home just to come out again,” Sam replied with a smile. “Buck said it was okay.” 

“Of course it is, you guys are always welcome, you know that!” You were surprisingly good at keeping how you really felt hidden, but with your words you couldn’t help but think you would lose Sam and Olivia as friends when Bucky ended things between you, they were technically Bucky’s friends first but you’d grown to see them as practically family as your relationship grew. You tried to push that thought away, you just had to get through tonight you kept repeating to yourself in your head. 

“You okay doll?” Bucky asks as he wraps his arms around you. You plaster on a smile hoping he wouldn’t sense anything being wrong. 

“Course! Just need to check on the food.” Normally Bucky’s touch helped you in situations like this but with what you heard his touch was only making you feel worse. You manage to untangle yourself from his arms and head to the kitchen. You notice that the ingredients and glasses were still laying out for the drinks you’d planned to make. “Do you guys want any drinks?” 

“Yes please!” Sam and Bucky replied at the same time. 

“I’ll help you.” you heard Olivia say through the wall. It only takes a couple seconds before she’s standing next to you in the kitchen. You and Olivia were like best friends, and she’s the reason you and Bucky were together. You had worked together for a few years, you drifted a little when she left that job but it only took one reunion dinner to get your friendship back to normal. That was 2 years ago, and from that night on she had insisted on setting up you and Bucky. It took a while for the meeting to actually happen but once it did you knew he was the one for you. Was. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Olivia asks quietly, she was aware of Bucky’s super soldier hearing and wanted to talk to you alone. 

You nodded and forced another smile. “Just a busy week, my boss is still being a dick.” 

“Ugh, you deserve so much better than having to work for that guy. He’s a creep.” She said at a normal volume now. “You should send Bucky after him, make him know he can’t treat you like that just cause he’s the boss.” She brings her hands up to put air quotes around ‘boss’, as he’s only technically the boss for the month while your real boss was on vacation. 

“I’ll manage.” You tried to play it off, you wouldn’t have Bucky there to help you soon, and you needed to stand up for yourself. 

“You know he would do anything for you.” 

“You think?” 

“Yep. I mean have you seen the way he looks at you?” 

“Hmm.” you mumbled. “Here,” You pass her two glasses with drinks in it. “take these and I’ll bring the other two once i’ve checked the food.” 

“Okay,” She starts to walk about but turns at the last minute, “It smells good by the way, I can’t wait.” 

“Thanks” you laughed as she walked away. She could tell there was something different with you tonight but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, it felt like it was more than just your boss being a dick. 

You tried to take as long as you could checking the food without it being too long that someone would notice. After just under 10 minutes you walk through. “Dinner should only be a little longer.” You pass a glass to Bucky and keep one for yourself, normally you’d sit close to Bucky but tonight you kept your distance, opting for the armchair in the corner. Bucky thought this was weird but he kept it to himself. 

“So, what did I miss?” You hoped they would somehow be able to explain away what you heard but your hope didn’t last long as they started to talk about Sam’s plans to get a lizard. 

“Sam, we’re not getting a lizard,” Olivia replied, “if you insist on getting a pet why can’t it be a normal one like a cat or a dog.” This only reminded you of the plans you and Bucky made to adopt a cat, this was torture. Everything was reminding you of what you were about to lose. 

“I’ll look after it babe, you won’t even have to touch it.” Sam tried pleading. 

“And when you’re away on missions?” Olivia argued back playfully. 

“Okay, you got me.” You laughed a little at Sam releasing this was one battle he was going to lose. “What about you guys? You still planning on getting a cat?” 

Bucky looked at you as Sam asked the question, how were you supposed to answer this when you didn’t even know the answer anymore, luckily Bucky notices the panic on your face and jumps in to answer.” 

“Yeah man, we just have to find the time to get to the shelter.” 

“See,” He turns his head to his left, staring at his girl, “Y/n let’s Bucky get the pet he wants.” He was only teasing, he knew logically he couldn’t get a lizard but it was fun to pretend. 

“Lizards and cats are not the same thing.” 

“Y/n/n help me out here please” Sam pleads to you. 

“Sorry Sam, I’m on Olivia's side here.” You reply whilst laughing. 

“Traitor” he mumbles under his breath making everyone laugh. Bucky noticed it wasn’t your real laugh but he wasn’t sure why. Normally you loved bantering back and forth with them. 

You kept on chatting for 20 minutes before the oven timer went off, just in time as Bucky was about to tell an embarrassing story about you.

“Ah! Saved by the bell” you joked. 

“Don’t think I won’t forget to tell it after dinner!” Bucky shouts through, and you can’t help but laugh before thinking about it deeper. Was that one of the things he couldn’t do anymore, was he really embarrassed by you? 

You tried so hard to push those thoughts away and focus on getting through the dinner, you started plating up the food you were so excited about only an hour before. But you got lost in your thoughts again and picked up the hot tray with your bare hand, burning yourself in the process. “Shit.” The tray fell to the floor, luckily you had already plated everything and you were just moving it to the sink. Bucky rushes through and sees the tray on the ground and you gripping your hand towards your chest. 

“What happened?” He comes towards you but you walk back away from him. “What’s wrong?” You could see the worry in his eyes but all you could think about was his words earlier. I can't do it anymore. 

“I’m fine, Bucky.” You didn’t mean to but you snapped back at him. 

“You’re not fine.” he moves closer and tries to reach for your hand but you pull it closer to you, he notices and steps back. “Y/n?” You don’t say anything. “Look please just run your hand under some cold water at least, please?” 

“Can you just take the food through, I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried to hide the shakiness in your voice but he could hear it. This brought him back to the start of your relationship, you both struggled to open up to each other but he thought you had both gotten better at it, which is why he was extra worried.

He nodded, you hated yourself for being the reason he was sad, he didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay doll, just know I’m here for you okay?” You nodded but kept your gaze to the floor. He first grabs the tray with his left hand and puts it in the sink then picks up the plates and brings them through, having to make two trips. He doesn’t want to leave you but he wants to give you the space you asked for. You run your hand under the cold tap for a couple of minutes before drying it off and making your way to the table. 

“You okay y/n?” Sam asks as you sit down next to Bucky, there were only 4 seats at the table so sitting next to him was your only option. Bucky turns to you, concern filling his eyes, he sends a smile your way and you try to send one back. He went to put his hand on your thigh but you see him stop himself and bring it back to his leg. 

“Yeah, all good, just burnt my finger on a tray. How’s the food?” 

“It’s amazing as always.” Olivia answers.

 “Thanks again for having us over.” Sam adds

“It’s a new recipe, and no need to thank me. You know you are both welcome here anytime.” You reply, happy that they like it. 

“Tastes great Doll.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost like he was scared to speak, he had a slight smile growing as you turned to him. 

“Thank you Bucky.” 

The rest of the night went just like that, the four of you spoke about planning a trip to New Orleans, you felt yourself get excited about it but then grounded yourself, reminding yourself that it probably wouldn’t go ahead. Well, it maybe would, you just wouldn’t be there. Sam and Olivia stayed for a couple more hours, they couldn’t stay as late as usual as Olivia had picked up an early shift at work the next day. When they left you saw Sam and Bucky whisper something to each other, but you were too far to hear anything. 

Now you and Bucky were alone, it had just been the two of you for 10 minutes and none of you had broken the silence until now. 

“Y/n?” Bucky asks quietly, testing the atmosphere. You took the shakiness in his voice as a sign he was angry, when it was really because he was worried about you. You don’t say anything but bring your head up so you could see him. “Can we talk?” Oh god. This was it. He was gonna do it right now. You weren’t ready, you never would be but you couldn’t do this right now. 

“Bucky, I’m really tired, could we talk in the morning?” You were desperately hoping he would say yes. 

“Yeah..” He stands up and walks towards the bathroom, stopping slightly at you but speeds up again after a moment. “I’m gonna quickly shower then I’ll come to bed.” 

“Okay.” Almost a whisper but he heard it. 

You go through to your room and get changed, ignoring the mess in the kitchen. That was something you’d worry about tomorrow. You crawled into bed, facing the wall and tried to force the sleep to take over. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to come in next to you, you feel him hesitate but he wraps his arms around you and brings his mouth around to kiss your forehead. “I love you.” 

You hoped he’d think you were sleeping, and not know you were pretending. You tried to find comfort in his touch but it only reminded you that this time tomorrow you probably wouldn’t have him wrapped around you. You could feel your eyes growing wetter as you thought about this but you forced yourself to stop before it turned into a full meltdown. That would for sure wake Bucky up. So you sat there in silence, sometimes you could hear a quiet mechanical murmur from Bucky’s arm, and sometimes the one big deep breath he takes every few minutes. By the time morning comes you only got about an hour of sleep, you were exhausted and anxious for what was going to happen today. 

“Doll?” he pauses for a minute waiting for an answer, “Are you up?” 

“Yeah, I'm up.” You don’t turn around to face him like you normally would, you keep your eyes on the wall. 

“I was thinking we could go to your favourite cafe today? The one with the-” You interrupt him and turn around to face him, sitting cross legged. 

“It’s okay Bucky.” He’s confused about what you mean so he stays quiet hoping you'll continue which you do. “I heard you talking with Sam and Olivia..” Bucky’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. 

“You heard us?” Shit. He wanted it to be a surprise. 

“I did. So can you just do it now? Get it over and done with, so we can both move on.”

“What? You want me to do it right now?” 

“Yes. Please, just do it.” You knew you were coming across harsh but you needed this torture to end. 

“Erm. Okay..”  He stood up out of bed and walked over to his dresser, and started to dig through one of his drawers. “This isn’t really how I pictured doing this and I thought you’d be more excited but..” Excited? Why would you be excited over losing him? Once he finds what he was looking for he walks back over and brings himself down to his knees beside the bed. 

“Bucky what-” 

“My turn to talk doll..” What the hell was happening. “Y/n, you have been the best thing in my life since the very first day I met you. It might sound cliche but you’re the missing piece I always thought I’d never find. I know this might seem fast but..” He pulls a small box from behind his back. Oh my god. He was proposing. What. You wanted to stop him but the words wouldn’t come out, it was like your mouth was glued shut. “.. I don’t think I could ever feel happier than I do right now with you but It would mean the absolute world to me if you-” 

“Wait!! Stop!” Bucky’s smile dropped. He’d been scared to ask you but he didnt think rejection was actually a possibility. 

“What?” You stood up and started pacing back and forth, panic setting in. 

“Oh my god Bucky. Stand up!” He stood up slowly and closed the ring box, the loud click making things even realer. “Bucky, what were you talking about with Sam and Olivia?” 

“I thought you heard me? I was telling them I wanted to propose, I want to spend the rest of my time with you. This definitely isn't how I wanted it to go. I’m sorry if I.. I thought you’d want this too.” 

“Oh my god Bucky. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry, I messed up.” You were beginning to lose control of your breathing and your eyes were starting to burn, you were still pacing back and forth. “I thought you wanted to end things, I thought you were done with us.”

“What?! Why did you think that?” He had never been so confused in his whole life. 

“You told them you wanted more, and.. that I wasn’t like other girls.. and..” The tears had escaped now and it was hard to talk properly. “and you said you couldn’t do this a-anymore.” 

“Oh baby.” Bucky walks over to you and pulls you gently to the bed, he sits next to you but keeps one of his arms wrapped around you. “I did say those things but not in the way you think. Did you listen to the rest of what we said?” You shook your head, which only made your growing headache worse. “When I said I wanted more I was talking about marrying you, in case you haven't figured that out by the -I don’t even know if i can call that a proposal- but doll, I want to marry you, I wanted to show you how much I love you and how serious I was about us.” He tries to turn himself slightly so he can see your face properly. 

“I was right when I said you aren’t like other girls, I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I want you to be you, my girl. The girl I fell in love with the first day I met you. I’ve been planning to propose for a while but I couldn’t keep it in any longer, that’s what I meant when I said I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you. I love you so much, doll.” 

Oh god. You were so embarrassed. You had gotten everything so wrong. “Bucky, I'm so sorry. I didn’t, I don’t want things to end with us. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay baby, really it’s okay. I just wished you’d talked to me about it. You can come to me about anything, you know what right?” 

“I do, I promise. I just panicked. I thought I was going to lose you.” Your breathing had started to slow down and you felt like you had control over it again.

“Nope. You’re never getting rid of me. I love you too much for that,” He brought his face down to yours and brushed your noses together before wrapping his arms tightly around you. “And I missed you way too much to ever let go of you again.” 

“I love you too, Buck, so much.. but you’re squeezing me.” For the first time since you heard their conversation you had a real smile on your face and you laughed at him holding you so tight. You were happy. Bucky was happy. 

“There’s the laugh I missed so much. Oh and,” he pulled away just for a second to look into your eyes, placing each of his hands on your shoulders and with a serious voice spoke again, “don’t for one second think that’s how my real proposal will go, I’m gonna make it special, just like you deserve.” he pulls you into his arms and lays you both down.

“I can’t wait, but before you do that..”

“Mhmm?”

“Can we go to the shelter today? I think it’s about time we got that cat.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me doll” 

Maybe it wasn’t healthy how much yours and Bucky’s happiness relied on each other but for you two it worked. Things were perfect. 

[goldsbitch]

Ah...

In a world where people get born with the first sentence their soulmate shares with them tattooed on their wrist, Y/N and Oscar are probably not the ones with the easiest story to tell.

note: first Oscar fic! this is prep for a longer 1k followers celebration...i'm a little too excited for that one

warning: pure fluff

Not everyone got to meet their soulmate, and that was totally fine. Her parents weren't soulmates and they still managed to have an amazing life. Why waste time waiting around and looking for a guy who's first word he'd ever say to her was suppose to be "Ah."

"Ah."...? What was that about anyway? Stupid wrist tattoo, marking her forever with a word so unimpressive.

During her teenage years, it became an inside joke between her and her best friend. A word to overuse so much it could truly mean anything. Ah.

Her boyfriend was definitely not her soulmate. He was blessed with having a full sentence on his wrist - but in French, a language she did not speak. The hot, dark haired boy was too obsessed with studying physics to take the whole concept of soulmates seriously, so when they met in university, it was a no brainer to follow the path set by hormones rather than fate and date together.

Only after they graduated she realized just how soul-crushing it was to spend time with him. When the social circles broke down and they were left alone, it was more than clear they were not a good match. But it's hard to see the tornado when you're standing inside of it.

The vacation was suppose save the relationship. Instead, their fights were laced with her running away and him having his eyes wonder around any girl walking by.

Only two more days, she said as she walked hastily around a garden adjacent to the villa they were staying at, once again. It was like a dance - they'd fight, she'd run away, he'd search for her and they'd go back to their room for a night of silence. On repeat for the whole vacation organized by the devil himself. The plan was to turn her life upside down once she arrived back home. Start fresh. At that moment, she had no idea just how fresh that would be.

She stood in the middle of a pathway leading to dimly lit swimming pool, tired and impatient. By this time her boyfriend would usually be on his way to get her back.

Finally, grass cracking sound that followed any footstep in this garden. She closed her eyes, unable to do this dance anymore.

"I want to break up," she whispered and turned around.

Oscar did not plan on speaking with this woman standing in the middle of the way back to his hotel room. He was just coming back from his late evening swim session.

When she uttered those words, it was like each of the syllable burned on his skin. Hundred questions answered and thousand new on the table.

Absolutely baffled, yet in his typical stoic style of keeping it together on the outside, while exploding internally, he couldn't bring himself to a more than..."Ah."

//

Oscar fully believed in the concept of soulmates and had no doubt that he would meet his, that's why he refrained from dating anyone who did not have the specific, very strange, words on their wrist.

"I want to break up"...? Why would this be the first thing you ever say to someone?

Over the time, he figured it would just be him overhearing the words. Or that he was one of the lucky ones, having a soulmate who has a special catch phrase they use when introducing to anyone new. He imagined his soulmate to be clever and cunning. And like the dreamer he was, he already had several versions of their meet up in his head, usually followed by their whole life together playing out. Oh, what a bliss when the moment would finally come.

But when it came, it took him totally of guard. Somehow, in all the scenarios he thought about his whole life, he missed probably the most realistic one. He was only trying to get back to his room and this girl was standing in the middle of the only clear pathway, as if it was nothing. She spoke with her back turned to him.

"I want to break up."

And when she turned around, after mistaking him for someone else, he saw a beautiful face, all puffy with smudged make up. And obviously in a really bad mood. He was, as they say, too stunned to speak.

"Ah." He said bluntly, too quickly for him to even notice it, processing the fact he just heard that one specific sentence, the one that should define the rest of his life.

She stared at him, as if he just offended her entire family. "What?!"

He felt..nothing. She couldn't be his soulmate. No way. Most likely because he had his response to "I want to break up" rehearsed his whole life. It was supposed to be "Worry not, now I am here." A lovely sentence to walk around with, right? He wanted his soulmate to wear the tattoo proudly, not with - what was it he even said? Did he even say something? He didn't, did he?

"Worry not, now I am here," he tried, feeling like he had nothing to loose. The words came out clumsily, as if they tripped over one another.

He was sure her face was already the most confused one could make, but she proved him wrong, quickly.

"Sorry, I'll leave you to it. This was obviously a misunderstanding," he said, trying to be polite and took few steps ahead to get going. She reacted and stepped right into his way.

This surely couldn't be it. But, emotions were running high, she thought she was addressing her boyfriend and was somehow trying to comprehend the fact she nearly broke up with him. And then she hears an "Ah." "What did you say?" she shot at him, no filter whatsoever, watching him with fascination and some flavor of anger.

Oscar was beginning to regret ever engaging in this conversation. "Worry not, now I am here...There, now, is that tattooed on your wrist? I imagine not, so, apologies and I'll leave you to whatever you're doing," he said, without giving her much space to respond. He felt slightly guilty about leaving an obviously distressed woman alone there, but his social awkwardness won this round and he just wanted this to be over.

"No, you didn't," she said, not intent on moving anywhere. Determined look replaced her sorrow.

"I'm pretty sure I did."

"And I am sure you didn't," she said, raising her wrist all the way to his eyeline. "You said this, didn't you?!"

It was not a tone of playful or even hopeful realization. Her delivery was spiced with unresolved anger that grew inside. He squeezed his eyes, having hard time seeing the small letters in the light of the nearing night. "What's that?"

She put her hand down, having a really hard time believing this was actually happening. It took him by surprise the speed with which she reached for his own hand, but his racer reflexes kicked in and he managed to avoid her.

Annoyed sigh left her mouth. "Will you show me your hand? I've already had a pretty shit day without you making obstructions."

He looked deeply in her eyes. This was a lot of emotion battling each others, little too much for Oscar.

"I'm pretty sure we're not soulmates," he said dryly.

"Tell me what's on your hand and I'll let you fuck off from when you came from."

"I'd actually like to go the other way-"

"Show me your hand!"

Visibly taken back, almost offended by her shouting, he reveled his wrist.

Time stopped for Y/N for few seconds. She was staring at the words she uttered just a minute ago. Decided to take a deep breath before she looked in his eyes once again. "Sorry for...screaming. We're almost definitely soulmates...You said "Ah." It felt good to finally know what kind of tone this sound was spoken with. End to the endless possibilities.

The irony of the fact that Oscar had a hard time remembering if he had actually said something so stupid dwelled on him. Did he? Knowing himself, he probably did.

"Ah," he repeated with a much heavier, slightly bitter, undertone.

"Yeah."

They just stood there, staring at each other. Was this suppose to be it? The moment he longed for and the one she already mourned? Just now she noticed that he was a gorgeous guy. Heavenly actually. Such a kind smile. Innocent look with a hint of spice. But she believed in love, not necessarily soulmates. Even if she did, this was the worst moment to do this. Little, almost invisible, tears started rolling from her eyes.

"Can I take a photo of you?" she asked, with defeated smile, wanting to walk away with a tangible evidence for her lonely evenings in the future.

Oscar was still processing. "Sure," he replied to a sentence he heard thousand times each month. Very automatically his body moved for a classic hug with a fan - which she rejected and just snapped a photo of his face.

"Nice to meet you. But I have my shit to deal with. I'm not good for you anyway," she said and sprinted back to he hotel room, to her current boyfriend and a deadend life. He just stood there, unable to comprehend. When he finally did, she was gone.

//

"Mr. Piastri, you understand that I can't just give you a room number to someone who you don't even know by name," the receptionist said, not backing down to his urgency.

"But she is my soulmate! She just passed by, surely you would know which one of the guests she is," he said, both hand on the counter, towering the poor reception lady.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stop this request or we might be forced to cancel your stay and remove you from the premise."

He rolled his fingers into his first, mad at himself the most out of all the people. "Yeah. Great. Understood."

//

Y/N didn't sleep for a minute that night. When she returned back without a word, her boyfriend didn't even look up. She didn't really care.

"Let's just get through these few days," he said and she just nodded.

Mind racing around new set of eyes she memorized from the photo she had, not having a clue that he in fact was a racer.

//

Breakfast. Oscar's chance to take destiny into his own hands. He was the first one to arrive and planned on being the last one to leave. And should she miss her breakfast, he'd move into the lobby. Determined to talk to her at least one more time. Sat there, drinking his juice and bouncing his leg up to the point it annoyed even him.

//

He'd probably be at the breakfast, she realized as her sleep deprived body walked towards the elevator. A stolen glance at her partner. They hadn't said a word to each other the whole morning. To think she once thought one of them would bury the other after a nice full-filled life. Coffee and croissant was her only hope now. And of course the guy from yesterday was there. Sitting at a table, alone, very obviously finished with his breakfast. Arms crossed and eyeing all the entrances. She couldn't help but smile and light up when she saw him. He sat there. Waiting. Was there even a possibility he'd be waiting for her? Like a soulless ghost, she followed her current partner and sat down to the table he picked.

Oscar was a secret over-thinker. He spent every minute going through every possibility of what could happen. So of course he was ready, in theory, for her entering with another guy or a girl. However, the whole nature of her first sentence to him was about breaking up. And you don't say that in a healthy relationship.

It was now or never for him. He watched the pair grab a seat few tables away from him. God, she was gorgeous. Seeing her walk in, summer dress proving the internet was right once again, made him weak in his knees and unable to look away. She paused upon noticing him, eyes shyly flashing back and forth, absolutely no plan or idea what to do. Awkwardly put her things down the at the table, fumbled around aimlessly and proceeded to walk over the breakfast bar. As she walked, she could almost feel his eyes piercing through her back. For some reason, it felt as if he knew something she didn't. she had to actively convince herself to act normal, as if this was her first time having breakfast at a hotel. Copy others. Oscar did indeed stare at her as if there was no tomorrow. Eyes glued to her back, cosplaying as the worst private detective this planet ever produced. He found himself getting up and approaching the bar she was standing by, the guy she came in long gone from her close proximity.

Oscar gulped before speaking, standing right beside her, pretending to be interested in a stack of apples. Her eyes flashed to her left, but she already knew who was standing next to her. It was as if she could hear his energy, something divine, intoxicating and most importantly - inevitable.

"Morning....I hope you've had better night than when you left yesterday," he opened with, desperately trying to break the ice. He was absolutely hopeless with small talk. His tone created a small smile on her face. This sort strange and unique tonality, which was exceptionally hard to decipher, mixed with his Australian accent. Again, so many questions popping up in her head - her body wanted her to find out everything about this guy.

"I'm not sure that's the case. But thank you for asking I guess," she said and leaned over his hand to reach for a fresh peach. It was not her conscious decision to brush his hand, but it definitely could have been avoided. Neither party mattered. Two shy smiles were created at that moment.

"Would you mind sharing your name with me?" he asked, as she glanced over to his wrist, to look at his tattoo once again.

She answered, slightly hesitantly. "Y/N."

"Uuh,"

"Are interjections the only language you speak?" she whispered, still not over the whole "Ah." thing and finally stopped pretending to be interested in the breakfast bar. She did the best she could to meet his eye while not turning around and becoming too obvious.

Oscar was having trouble processing his body's reaction to this girl being so close now. "No, but I am happy you seem interested to know that."

It was impossible to fight of the smile. "I'm not, you're the reason I'm walking with this my whole life," she said, lifting her wrist once again.

He fiddled with some apples, trying to keep his hands busy. "I'd like to object that in this pair I'm the one who lost"

"Don't say the word pair," she said in a tone so unserious even she couldn't pretend to believe it.

"Why, does that idea make you nervous?" he clicked his tongue, feeling more confident with every second she stayed there with him.

"I have a boyfriend," she stated, lying to herself anyway.

He smirked. "Apologies, must have misread my own hand."

"I can't break up with someone on a holiday," she responded, reaching for straws, not even knowing why. She took two steps to the coffee line and to no surprise, he followed.

"You didnt seem to think as such yesterday," he said in more serious tone. "Look, I don't know you-"

"No, you don't," she jumped in before he continued.

"-But...let me present my hypotheses, so that we can test the whole soulmate thing. Does that not make you at least a bit excited?" he said, trying to hide his own excitement, which was something he did not have to do often, so he was not really good at it.

She found his confidence mixed with clumsiness so intoxicating. "It's overrated," she argued, perhaps trying to see how much he's willing to defend it.

"I'm so much looking forward to proving that theory wrong." There is was. The point of no return.

"Well before you do," she bit her smile, accidentally leaving a pause for him to fill.

"Ah, so you believe that I will," he said sith his signature "I won" smile.

"Again, with the interjections, you gotta unlearn that," she said, happy he couldn't see directly into her face, as she felt the blush spreading.

"Teach me."

"Stop it...." she froze, searching in memory a moment when he'd introduce himself.

"Oscar."

She finally paused and dared to look at him, or more specifically stopped resisting her wondering eyes. Her mind rushed through all the Oscar's she had the pleasure to meet and absolutely none of them did justice to the name. His kind eyes, while somewhat giving shy guy vibes, pierced through her fearlessly. So sure of himself, et somehow humble. An impossible enigma she could see herself deciphering for the rest of her life.

"Nice name," she said, in a completely new tone, one he hadn't heard yet. Calm, kind and intrigued.

"Thank you." They stared at each other for few more moment, utterly inappropriately for two strangers in a coffee line. Taking in the little intricacies about the other, as if memorizing for a test.

"You said you had a hypotheses?" she broke silence, not quite sure they were at the same planet as their surroundings anymore. All around them sort of blended together into an unclear, totally unimportant mush.

"I do. Hope I don't overstep."

"I think that does not matter now," she said, walls crumbling down one by one.

"Good. I think you don't want to break up with your current boyfriend now that you'd met me," he said boldly.

"Astonishingly obnoxious," she teased, unable to believe he caught her.

"Fair. But, yesterday you wanted to. Now, it serves like a perfect excuse why run away from this," he said and stepped just a little bit closer to her.

"I don't want to be a slave of some destiny bullshit," she said, while absolutely agreeing with destiny this time.

There was no way back for Oscar. Looking into her eyes was making him drown in lands never explored before. "Yes, but why reject it before we even get the chance to discover if we like each other."

"I don't even know you."

"Your parents didn't know each other at one point," he said matter-o-factly.

The reality was creeping into her mind. "I hardly know anything about you! Like where you live, what you do..."

He was not letting her go. "All over the globe, I am a racing driver. You?"

How come it seemed so easy and obvious for him? "Oscar, I'm..I'm scared." Intimidated was the word she wanted to use, but it felt a little bit too much.

"Of what?"

"I dunno...? Of this working out?"

"Do you realize that sounds quite ridiculous."

"...Yes".

"Well, I believe this is going to be great fun. Listen, it's not socially acceptable for me to bother you for longer. But I desperately hope this is not the last conversation we share," he lowered his voice, parting ways with her being the last thing he actually wanted to do, but his intuition told him, that he had to give her some space to come forward to his, her decision.

Y/N's head was a mess, truth slipping through, passing all the filters that seemed to have stopped working. "I am afraid it's not."

He smiled. "Good. Now, I'll leave you to your life - do whichever you think is right. But please give me your number."

"No, you give me yours so that I can call you when i want to. You know, boundaries," she ordered, trying to keep some control in her hands.

He trusted his gut. "Fair."

//

"Lady, I can't tell you where's Oscar's room." It was a different receptionist that Oscar had dealt with, but probably with the same training.

"But it's a suprise! Look, I have his number an everything."

"Why don't you call him?"

"You're familiar with the concept of a surprise?"

//

Unlike Oscar, she managed to convince the reception into giving her Oscar's room number. It was all the way up at the last floor. Fancy, she thought. It's impossible to convey the energy and adrenaline cocktail that Y/N was on when she was on the way to knock on his room and announce that she actually went though with the break up and the guy was on his way home, cutting the vacation early. It was unhinged, reckless, addictive. She had to stop herself several times, as the excitement mixed with fear was making her put on faces very strange to anyone who should pass by. If music was on, she'd dance for hours. Hell, she had no idea what was suppose to happen now. And that had never felt so exhilarating before.

With one last breath before her life changed for good, she knocked on the door.

After the longest few seconds ever experienced on this planet, he finally opened the door.

She physically couldn't hold it anymore. "I broke up with him," she blurted out the moment their eyes met.

Oscar tried to take in the image of his soulmate, standing there in front of him, flustered and ready to take the leap with him, once again, having trouble holding his smile in.

"Ah."

[shadyshaylee114]

Wolf hybrid x bunny hybrid reader.

You couldn't possibly be anymore nervous. You were meeting with the sigma of the all alpha pack. They needed a female for their heat, and you needed multiple males to help you through yours. Bunny heats could lead to death if not treated properly, and you were a shunned rabbit. No burrow would take you. Darius looked you up and down his claws digging into his chair he couldn't believe such a cute tiny bunny was in his office wishing to agree to the stupid ad his 2nd had recommended they put out. His pack was getting to riled needing a pussy to keep them in line but never did he expect a bunny rabbit. You smelt like sunshine and freshly grown flowers he couldn't help but wonder if all rabbits smelt like that.

"They accused me of a crime I didn't commit. I swear even though I'm a shunned. i'll bring no harm to you or your pack. I just dont wish to die in agony from something that can be helped. And if I do end up pregnant, I request to be welcomed to stay in pack territory. I will not leave any of my children." You stated the conversation had been going smoothly, but the sigma had started to look furious. You couldn't help but start to panic more. Did he believe the rumors did he just call you here to see the only shunned bunny in history like many others had before.

"Many of the males in my pack were shunned for the wrong reasons. I don't care about such a worthless thing. I just need a willing female to aid us and many have not been interested in helping my whole pack. They don't want there young to be born from tainted." Darius growled. He knew he shouldn't feel insulted at the females accusations but it still stung after all he would never rip a child from there mother or judge somebody for being shunned.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I just want to make sure there is no miss understanding." You whispered softly. The heat suppressant was starting to wear off , you where gonna cry over upsetting the wolf. This meeting needed to wrap up or you'd be in heat with a pack who didn't want you. Never again you'd sworn standing quickly. "Thank you for having me but since your clearly not interested I'm going to leave now."

"When did I say I wasn't interested?" Darius asked tilting his head inhaling your sweet scent. The scent of your arousal making his instincts go off. If anything he wanted to make sure you got under him and stayed there. He stood towering over you. He grabbed a strand of your hair twirling it into his fingers. He pulled you close your lips almost touching. "You will stay in my room for right now while I prep my pack then I'll have my way with you before they get there turn. I can't wait to have you falling apart for me little bunny nothing more than a brainless slut begging for more from me.... from my pack." He growled his eyes glowing golden with how his instincts where leading is emotions. As the soft needy whimper left your lips he stole the sound closing the distance.

Darius's kiss was all primal he made it clear he was in charge. He growled as he picked you up grinding his hard cock against your heat. The feeling of his jeans rubbing against your clit had you whining into the kiss for more. And Darius was going to give it to you.

He broke the kiss slowly placing you back on the ground making sure to keep your pressed close down as he did.

"Wh.. why did you stop." You stuttered blushing heavily wanting to reconnect with him.

"My office is not the place to start this. My pack has a room they made just for the female we brought in." He stated as he dragged you from the office. "My males will want you there ready and if I start with you now I won't stop." He groaned as he scented your arousal once again his sweet rabbit was so needy so wet already. As you entered the room that was located not to far from his office thank the gods for that. You where awe struck the room was beautiful truly looked like the room of your dreams.

"It's incredible I know you designed it for any female but it almost feels like it was made for me." You shook your head at the silly thought. Darius stepped forward placing his finger under your chin to make you look up at him.

"We all argued on this room for months before it was completed. So perhaps it was." Darius eyes where soft glad you liked the room. You grabbed his collar and pulled him down wanting to show the sigma how much you really appreciated the room. He chuckled kissing you softly. "Take of your clothes and lay down ass up on the bed." He stated nipping at your lips before stepping back. Sitting in a chair you hadn't noticed immediately but once you did, You realized it took in view of the whole bed you licked your lips perhaps Darius liked to watch. You had stopped in your tracks do to the fantasies that where running thru your mind. Darius watching while giving orders to his men while they handled you. "Bunny I believe I told you to do something." At Darius's tone you snapped out of your thoughts making eye contact he was the image of someone in control.

"Yes sir." You whispered out with a blush going to quickly strip. Darius tcked. Standing back up grabbing your hands.

"Stay calm bunny there is no rush. Give me a show baby girl." Darius whispered leaning into to drag kisses along your neck. "Mmm your heart is racing little bunny is it fear or desire?"

"Desire I've never wanted somebody as much as I want you." You gasped out as he gave a rough nip to your collarbone. He couldn't help but grin against your neck at that he felt the same he'd make sure you got pregnant he wouldn't let you leave him now.

"I'm gonna sit back down bunny and once I'm seated your gonna give me a show then lay on the bed with your pretty ass up, So I can see your cute little tail." Darius ordered releasing you to return to the chair. You watched silently as he got comfortable. Once he was fully seated you slowly reached down pulling your shirt off slowly. Your tail wagging in excitment. Darius's dominating mannerism had your panties soaked. Darius growled

As you finally revealed yourself his eyes traveled along your body taking you in. He jerked his head towards the bed encouraging you to do the next order. Finding the courage you turned to the predator giving him your back. Your heart rate once again picking up while your pussy only got wetter wondering what it'd be like to have him hunt you and use you for himself. Slowly crawling onto the bed wiggling your butt and little tail at the wolf. You where getting more and more wet by the second especially knowing the wolves eyes hadn't left you.

"Oh the bunny want to play does she." He snarled as you wiggled your tail and looked at him with half lidded eye lunging from the chair, he quickly closed the distance. You let out a startled yelp going to scurry up the bed to avoid the wolf. Your fight or flight extinct kicking in at Darius's sudden fierceness. He grabbed your hip with one hand while the other grabbed your long ears pulling your head back. Effectively pinning you to the mattress with his body. You where at his mercy. "Oh bunny you know better then to run from a big bad wolf don't you? That's how you get devoured and I'm gonna have my fill sweetheart." He groaned grinding his cock against your ass. You let out a soft whimper burying your face into the bedding as he released your ears. "Fuck bunny..." He groaned. "I can smell how needy your poor little cunt is. I need a taste. Don't fucking move." He growled as he slowly stood up. You where frozen the only thing you could acknowledge was the sound of your own heart beat. A soft gasp left your lips as you heard the sounds of his belt being undone and his pants hitting the floor.

"P....please Darius I need you." You stammered out you where to excited and things where going to slow.

"Oh no sweetheart this pretty cunt is about to belong to me ill take as much time as I please." He reached out spreading your fold licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt. He smirked taking a picture and sending it to the group messenger his pack had. I found our girl I'm gonna stuff her full first. Next one here gets her. Tossing his phone onto the floor knowing his pack would diffently rush to arrive he wanted to get his fill as promised. Darius bent down grabbing your ankles he pulled you down closer to him chuckling as you squeaked and quickly repositioning you on the edge of the bed your cunt and ass completely open to him. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers starting to rub along your clit. Darius wasn't joking about having his fill. He listened to every whimper and moan as he continued to move his fingers on your clit. He groaned in delight as he finally slide his index finger into your sopping cunt.

"Your pretty little pussy is sobbing in need she want a big thick knot to stuff her full." He stated looking into your eyes enjoying the way the rolled back when he made contact with your sweet spot. "A there's your g spot baby I bet you haven't found it with your pretty tiny fingers." He added a second finger smirking as your back arched off the sheets. The pressure building in your stomach telling you how close you where to cumming but suddenly Darius stopped pulling his fingers out of your puffy needy cunt.

"W...why did you stop." You whined soft tears falling down your cheeks. Darius groaned at the sight.

"Wanted to hear you beg for it hunny." He chuckled at the distress look that filled your features. He lifted up your left leg nibbling gently at your ankle. "You'll beg your Alpha to let you cum won't you sweet bunny?"

"Please Alpha please let's me cum." His smirk widened as he lunged for your cunt. Keeping your thigh pinned on his shoulder. You let out a startled cry as his thick tongue slide directly into your cunt. Darius growled against your clit as the taste of your cunt filled his every sense. Using his thum. to rub steady patterns on your clit he began to fuck you with his tongue using his hand to grab your hip pulling you closer to his mouth. Darius pulled back with a groan his face moist with your wetness. He smirked at you biting your ass cheek drawing out a soft moan from your lips. "fucking..bite....delicious....bite...gonna make sure you have our pups gonna keep your sweet pussy forever."

The finger that had been playing with your clit slid back he held eye contact with you as he pushed the finger inside. "Your poor cunt she's so needy only put my thumb in and she trying so hard to take me deeper to have more." He growled as he pulled his thumb out replacing it with three more. He and his brothers where all large and you where just a poor tiny bunny compared to them. Letting out a startled cry you clawed at the sheets underneath you. Back arching while grinding your hips onto the hand that was currently bring you close to the best orgasm you've ever has. Darius's eyes flashed at the sight of you cumming undone around his fingers. He quickly.pulled out his fingers flipping you back onto your stomach. Quickly sliding them back inside before you could let out any protest.

"Please Dare I... I'm gonna cum again." You gasped out making him gladly pick up the pace. Moaning loudly when suddenly his hand came down slapping your clit. You let out a sound that you'd never heard yourself make before eyes slamming shut and head thrown back as the pain made you squirt on his fingers.

"Fuck baby girl trying to milk my fingers dry. Let's give you something big and hard that you can get all those needy spots for you sweetheart." Darius shifted and dragged the head of his cock along your sensitive clit enjoying the soft whimpers and needy cries that kept escaping your lips.

"Please Dare fuck me I want you to fill me up. Wanna take your knot like a good girl." You gasped out reaching for him.

"Fuck baby girl gonna fuck you hard and deep." Darius snarled as he leaned over you slowly pushing his cock into your dripping heat. He moaned kissing you his tongue demanding entrance to distract you from the burning pain of stretching on his cock. As you returned the kiss he grabbed your hips pushing into you till his knot didn't allow him to go any further. You whinned at the feeling you where already so full and could feel his knot pressed against your lips, rubbing on your clit as Darius lazily rolled his hips.

"Sooo big.... I don't think I'll be able to take your knot." You cried soft tears sliding down your cheeks. You'd never been so full before or so sensitive. Darius looked down at you his eyes soft.

"You will sweetheart I'm gonna start moving okay and while I do why don't you play with your pretty pussy for me." You nodded at his wishes biting your lip as you dragged you hand to your clit. Before giving your clit some attention as your fingers gave your clit a light pinch. Darius pulled out and as you pulled on the sensitive bud he slammed back in. You cried out clenching tightly around his girth at the sensation it was to much you dropped your hands away from your cunt gripping tightly on to the sheet beneath you as Darius began to pound into you. You'd swear he was trying to hit your cervix and with how deep he was you where sure he would in no time.

Darius had lost it and the poor little rabbit under him had no clue. The sight of her hair spread out along her back, her pretty eyes glistening with unshed tears he couldn't wait to draw out, and then when she pulled on her pretty nipples biting her lip as he slammed himself deep inside of her fuck. He couldn't think anymore he wanted one thing and one thing only and that was to fill his mate with his seed. He listened to your sweet cries as he continued to pound himself deep inside of you pushing against all your sweet spot adjusting to what made you tighten up or what didn't. And as you came on his cock he roared dropping himself down placing his face into your neck picking and nibbling at the spot he was gonna mark. He thrust deep his cock piercing your cervix while his knot slid into you with a soft pop. He couldn't stop himself from sinking his teeth into your throat. You saw stars as you came around his knot his cum warm and thick as it began to fill you.

"Fuck. That was hot." You startled out of your haze at the sound of a new voice. Looking by the chair you saw 3 more alpha males standing taking in the erotica scene infront of them.

(Part 2 as soon as I can I'm a perfectionist and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to post this 🫢)

[deadsetobsessions]

Cassandra Cain knows how to read people. Every twitch, every micro-expression, every sway of their pupils.

She knows people better than they know themselves. She could pick out a person’s life without having to speak or hear a single word from them.

Language, without a sound.

Honesty, complete and unwilling, at her fingertips.

David Cain had beaten it into her; to observe, to read, to kill without protest. She was never a daughter to him- even if Cassandra hadn’t understood what love or being a daughter meant before she met Bruce- and she understood that.

There are scars lining her body, truths carved into her flesh that she knows she could never truly hide. But that’s alright. She’s learned by now that no one can read her quite as well as she reads them. Not even the metas. They notice it, of course, the tells and the twitches. But none of them could flawlessly put everything together like Cassandra could. They focus on the big things, like heart beat or sweat or flickering eyes. Cassandra takes note of the twitching fingers, the stances, the breaths, how lax their legs are, or which muscle groups are bunched up. She figures things out about them far before they even have a hint of her outer workings.

Cassandra Cain knows there is subtle faintness to her frame, a wildness lurking beneath her skin that she’s never going to be able to tame completely, the ways in which she leans that betrays her time as a starved and feral street kid. She also knows that no one will ever know the extent of it unless she allows them to. It’s nice, having that security.

It’s also lonely, that no one will understand her the way she understands everyone else. Well, until Danny Phantom.

Just like how she can see the scars left on him by people he trusted, the marks of crackling electricity behind a boy who should be dead, he also sees her. The training, yes. But Danny Phantom also sees the pavement like side to her where it should have been downy feathers. He sees the wildness prickling at her fingertips, the violence set in her bones.

And he still smiles at her anyways. His acceptance is screamed to Cass, though simply relaxed to anyone else.

Cassandra glides over to place a hand on Danny’s shoulders and squeezes twice.

Yes, she tells him without a word, spoken, you’re my little brother. I am not alone anymore.

Yes, she tells him without a sound passing through their eyes, we will protect you.

Danny beams up at her as the rest of the family relaxes. She still feels a thrill when she realizes (not belatedly, only slow comprehension) that they were waiting for her verdict.

She sighs in relief. Message received. Danny, eyes glowing green, leans back to rest on the couch.

He shrugs at her with a sincere grin.

And he even says thank you.

And he meant it.

[mooooonnnzz]

holy shit world/insure made me sob. would you consider doing a part two ? i’m imagining stan and ford telling dipper and mable childhood stories with the reader. they’re vague about it, saying stuff like “they aren’t here anymore” so the twins just think read died. then reading coming back through the portal and they connect the dots. omfg i’m obsessed with this concept.

Word/Insured Part 2

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ GUESS WHO FINISSHHHEDDDD!!!

☆ this'll have 2 parts so it's easier to digest, since it's lawnngg so if it abruptly ends, that's just me splitting it

☆ 4,5k words

☆ gender-neutral reader

☆ possible tw: drinking to cope, mentions of suicide, gagging and descriptive chewing? and just angst

☆ srry this lowk kinda took long to write both keyboard and mouse just died on me when i was writing this so i had to find an old keyboard oops

☆ if this does well, i'm considering on making hcs of reader adjusting back to their home dimensions and diving deep into the twins n their trauma !!

☆ that's all. i hope you all enjoy! :3

✶ Stan and Ford hadn’t talked to each other since your disappearance. The anger and hatred that Stan held onto was enough to deter him from even granting a glance at Ford who tirelessly tried to get Stan to talk to him. He’d begin the conversation with ideas he’s thought through the night prior, ideas that most likely secured a chance on bringing you back. But Stan wanted nothing to do with him. His head was shrouded with your screams, the way you yelled out for Stan instilled such a soul-crushing guilt on Stan; he wasn’t sure he’d properly function as a normal human being after this. Not to mention, you and Stan were two peas in a pod, spending 10 years together after the collapse of their family truly brought the pair together, closer than they’d ever thought they would be. And now Stan is going through the same grief he felt when he was kicked out of the house, Ford doing nothing but sparing a sorrowful glance to him as he shouted for his brother, anticipating Ford to do something; to clean his name and everything would go back to normal. But instead, he turned his back on him. The situations were massively different but the pain was eerily still the same. 

✶ Stan would spend majority of his nights clutching your belongings close to his chest. He didn’t care if it looked weird, those were the only things that he had left of you at the moment. Nights were spent crying himself to sleep, envisioning different scenarios where he had caught onto your wrist and pulled you back to the ground, where it was safe, where he was there to protect you. He couldn’t let his mind linger on the idea of you being stranded in another dimension, helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or where to go. The mere thought of it sends his heart crumbling down to his palms, all shredded and shattered beyond repair. He was your big brother, he was supposed to protect you. To keep you safe from harm's way, he betrayed that very promise by leading you to the place where you were taken away from him too soon. And that alone gutted him. Ford would hear Stan sobbing into the night and all he did was lay there in his bed, submitting himself to the torture to hear his brother’s wretched cries. Because, this was his fault. Stan wasn’t shy to tell him that almost every waking moment of the day when he has the chance. The guilt haunts him.

✶ Verbal arguments were pretty common between the pair. Stan mainly started them when he was pulled out of the haze he was in and roughly back to reality. A reality where you weren’t around anymore and that irked him, because who else was at fault other than his idiotic brother? “Do you ever wonder how more lively this house would have been if ya hadn’t pushed [Name] inside the portal?” His tone was harsh. They carried thick venom to them, his words permanently burning their way into Ford’s brain. “Not this again,” Ford’s heart quivered. He had just recollected himself from yesterday's fight and now Stan wants to barrel through another one? Ford avoided Stan’s glaring eye contact. “Stanley, I told you many times before. I’m sorry! I’m sorry for screwing up, I’m sorry for being the reason why [Name] isn’t here anymore.” Ford’s head tilted back, his eyes staring longingly at the ceiling. “You don’t know how much this eats at me, Stanley.” He blinks away the tears threatening to escape, his head lowering back down to meet Stan’s fiery stare. “But I beg of you, please. Don’t hate me for it. I can’t lose you again, not after losing [Name].” The look in Ford’s eyes was something Stan would never be able to forget, no matter how hard he tried. He looked so broken, so shattered, the shell of someone who once was a prodigy at everything he touched was now crushed to bits; pieces of him scattered, lost to time. Stanley’s anger faded into a mellow irritation. Shifting his hands awkwardly on his chest, his face softened ever so slightly. “Fine,” He grumbled, rushing past Ford, their shoulders roughly rocking against each other. Ford sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. This was a new development. A spark of hope flickered in Ford. 

✶ Alcohol and cigars were Stan’s life vest. He’d rob a few packs of beer and down them within two days. It wasn’t healthy, but at least it distracted him from everything that was happening, right? Stan was pretty much drunk every day, and if he wasn’t, he was out on the porch smoking cigars, hoping that one day Ford would find him dead on the floor with beer cans surrounding him, his last moments spent thinking about how much he missed you. Stan wasn’t an angry drunk much to Ford’s surprise, considering how he spent his times where he was sober yelling at Ford, rather he’d rot away on the couch or floor, silently crying to himself in a puddle of his own tears. Many times Ford would have to pick up Stan, rest him on the couch and try to sober him up. And it wasn’t an easy task to do, picking up Stan with his weak arms was a workout for Ford. “Why couldn’t I save them?” Stank drunkenly babbled out, his head swaying side to side. “Don’t move too much, Stanley. You’ll give yourself a headache.” Ford warned, propping his head up with a pillow. “If I wasn’t so slow, [Name] would still be here.” Stan hiccups, his eyes glistening with tears. No matter how many times Ford hears Stan painfully talking about you, it still hurts the same and even more. “It’s not your fault, Stan.” Ford said, pulling a blanket up to his chest. “It’s not yours either.” Stan’s hand patted Ford on his face, thinking that it was his head. When Stan pulled his hands away, tears were streaking down Ford’s cheek. Hearing Stan tell him that it wasn’t his fault healed a piece of him and that quickly triggered the waterworks. “There, there, brother.” Stan patted Ford’s back as he sobbed into his hands. “It’s not my fault,” He repeated in loud sobs. “It’s not your fault.” Stan echoes. 

✶ Ford handled his grief and stress by huddling himself in the lab, isolating himself from Stan’s drunken state and researching his work. Trying to find loopholes that he can tie them close with a workaround, with a quick fix that would bring you back. Cans of beer were discarded around his lab, just the same as upstairs. But he wasn’t downing beers like Stan, he chugged one or two to dull out the ache in his heart, to keep it from distracting him. He knew when to stop and limit himself. He wasn’t dependent on alcohol. Sleep was something Ford considered useless. That would only distract him from his work, from his progress. Stan walked into the lab, puffing a gray smoke of air out onto the air. Your absence has bestowed so much despair onto the pair and he hadn’t realized until this very moment. Walking over to Ford, he placed a hand on his back. He was messily sleeping on top of his work, glasses hanging off his face, mouth open, drool dribbling down to his arms and paper. His dark circles were so dark and he was unshaven, chin stubbly with hair. Has he been getting any sleep? He wouldn’t know because he’s always drinking the day away. Stan internally groaned at himself. Not only has been neglecting himself, he’s been neglecting his brother. Burning out the cigar, he grabbed a blanket from upstairs and draped it over Ford. “Sleep tight, Stanford.” He said, gingerly squeezing his arm. Stan sat right next to him, wanting to keep him company and dozed off. When morning came, Ford awoke to Stan’s head colliding with his chair. For that one morning, Stan’s snores were music to his ears. 

✶ “S-Stanley!” Ford’s body lunges up from the couch when he sees Stan briskly pass by him and into the kitchen. “I-I’ve done some research and I-I think I found a way to get [Name] back!” He stumbles over his words, the lack of sleep weighing heavily on his foggy brain. The only thing that is keeping him up as of now is coffee he had been taking in shots for the past few days. The way he moves is fidgety and erratically and Stan takes notice of that. Pouring a cup of coffee for himself in a mug, he leans his back against the counter. “You need sleep, Stanford.” He brings the rim of the mug to his lips, his eyes never leaving Ford’s trembling figure as he takes a big gulp from his coffee. Ford couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Stan spoke to him! It was measly four words, but that’s more than he has ever said in the past five months, that wasn’t angry nonsensical words that were being thrown at him or depressing drunken babbling. “No, there’s so much to be done.” Ford runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “You need to hear me out. We need to find the other two–” Stan shushes him. “I won’t talk to you until ya sleep, Stanford. Don’t you bother trying to back out from this.” He looks at Ford with a stern expression, almost the same one Mom wore whenever he warned Ford to not do anything stupid in the backyard with Stan. “B-But!” Stan doesn’t hear his weak objections, he’s already out of the kitchen before Ford can conjure a good enough excuse. With a groan, Ford trips over his own feet while he makes his way back to the couch. Pushing all his research and books off the couch and onto the floor, he topples over the couch. When his head crashes on the soft plush of his sofa, his body automatically shuts off, revealing how dangerously tired he was. His eyes fluttered close and it didn’t take long for him to crash out on the couch. Stan came in to check on Ford and was pleasantly pleased to see his twin at last getting the rest he deserved. 

✶ Clinking his fork idly on the ceramic plate, Stan watched Ford make breakfast. Originally Stan was going to prepare breakfast, but Ford saw he was cooking and pushed him out of the kitchen, telling him that it was “his treat,” Stan couldn’t even utter a single word to him. He just wanted simple scrambled eggs and toast and now he’s left to fear for his life as Ford concocts a science experiment for his breakfast. “And for you breakfast, Stanley.” Ford swoops in, leaning forward as he shuffles the plate of food onto the table. “Scrambled eggs and buttered toast,” Ford smiles knowingly, placing his breakfast down. He had the same breakfast but the crust of his toast was cut off. “I don’t even know why I doubted you.” Stan scoops up the scrambled eggs with his fork and shoves it in his mouth with giddy excitement, a display of emotions Ford hadn’t seen in over 10 years. Who knew a simple breakfast would get him so happy? “Still being a baby about the crust?” He points to Ford’s crustless buttered toast with his fork, mouth muffled with food still being chewed in his mouth. Ford cringes at the sight of mashed up food in Stan’s mouth, suppressing a gag as he nods his head. “Chew your food before talking, Stanley! We’re not kids anymore.” He rasps out, his palm covering his mouth, his body shuddering with full body heaves. “Alright, alright!” With a loud gulp, he swallows his scrambled eggs. “Happy now?” Said Stan with a roll of his eyes. “Maybe not,” Using his other hand, Ford pushes the plate of eggs away. “Don’t want to eat anymore,” Stan shrugs, pouring the scrambled eggs on the plate. “More for me!” As Stan is chowing down on his eggs, Ford regains his composure. Though, he couldn’t watch Stan eat his eggs without the image of the yellow goopy food in his mouth so he averted his gaze to his hands. 

✶ “[Name] sure had grown up the last time I saw them.” This was Ford’s feeble attempt at sprouting a conversation with Stan, but he soon regretted what he said when he realized the fragility of the topic. Stan blinks, stunned. A beat passes and Ford’s ready to divert the conversation to another topic when Stan replies with a weird look on his face Ford can’t quite catch. “Well, yeah,” Stan looks off to the side. Ford lets out a breath of relief, Stan wasn’t upset at the mention of you. “They left with me when you and Dad kicked me out and we haven’t seen each other since then.” There’s a distant look in his eyes when he speaks, his words carrying a light anger to them ever so slightly. “How were th–” Stan shoots up, the chair skidding behind him. “Just because we’re all chummy now doesn’t mean you get to ask all about [Name].” The sudden shift in his emotions slapped Ford right in his face. “I’m sorry.” Ford whispers. Stan clicks his tongue, uttering to himself before shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry.” Stan rubs the sides of his head with his fingers. “Let’s not talk about them right now, okay? I don’t think I’m ready yet.” Stan pulls the chair to him and sits down. He rests his head on his fist, eyebrows pinched together with a long frown on his face. “I didn’t mean to blow up on ya like that.” Stan looks Ford in the eyes, and he could see the sincere sadness swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, Stanley. Why don’t we talk about what you do for a living?” With that, they eased themselves into a comfortable conversation, with a few hiccups here and there, but in the end, the twins both had a soft smile adoring their faces.

✶ The repairing of the portal was a stepping stone that repaired Ford’s and Stan’s relationship. They weren’t going to lie and say that their relationship now was perfect, they still had their moments of anger and differences, but with a lot and a lot of patience, their bond was soon regaining its spark. “Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan slapped a sloppily written plan on how to fix the portal in front of Ford. “What is this?” Ford looked at the piece of paper like it was garbage. “A plan to fix the portal, isn’t it obvious?” Stan snatched his paper back up, eyes speedily reading his work, doubting his work. “Stanley, that is unnecessary. I have the blueprints to fix the portal.” Discarding his plan, he slapped his hands enthusiastically, rubbing them together. “Alright! So where are they?” Ford sucks in a breath. “In the other journals.” Stan nodded his head slowly, as if that information was already obvious. “And where are the other journals?” Ford coughs into his fist, speedily saying; “I hid them.” Stan looks at him weirdly. “Can’t we just unhide them?” Ford rubs a hand up against his prickly cheek. “That’s the thing. I may or may not remember where I hid them.” Closing his eyes, he braced for the gust of angry yelling. “you WHAT?!” Stan’s hands flew to the side of his head. “How do you forget where you put them?!” Stan made a mental note to mark down how many times Ford screwed up, so far he has two. He has a long way to go before he could be anywhere near Stan’s record. “I was in a flurry of panic! I wasn’t thinking straight.” Stan groaned, smacking his face with his hand. “Was it at least in Gravity Falls?” Stan had his fingers crossed. “Yes, obviously.” A triumph “Yes!” leaves Stan. “Okay, let’s get digging then!” 

✶ Stan severely underestimated how truly difficult it would be finding one of the books in a forest that seemed like it stretched out for miles. Every turn looks the same and whenever he’d think he’s making progress, he’s right back where he started, at least he thinks he is. Frustrated, he bangs his head on a tree. The sound of metal clanging rang in his ears and shook through the tree. He groaned, holding his head with one hand as he curiously examined the possible metal tree. “Stanley!” Ford came running to Stan’s side, panting heavily. He wasn’t used to running for more than 5 seconds, and that was evidently proven with his flushed face and out of breath wheezes. “This tree is metal,” Stan notes, taking a few steps back, winding his leg back and hammering his shoe into the tree. The tree simply shook, the metal sound nowhere to be heard. “What?” Stan can feel his brain heating up, he couldn’t make any sense of this. The tree he kicked felt like a tree, not some metal contraption. It was only when he knocked his head—An idea springs to mind. Leaning his head back, he slammed his head on the tree. Shocked noises sputter out of Ford as he watches Stan rub the sore spot in his head. “There’s something here,” He gestures to the general area where he smashed his head in. “I can see that!” Ford walks up to the tree, knuckles gently knocking on the metal plate that was disguised as a tree. His hands move around the tree, searching for a way to open the plate. His fingers snag on an elevated piece of tree and with his fingertips, he swings it open, revealing a control panel. The memories of constructing this rush to his mind. “I remember now!” He flips a switch, his head turning over to where the large log rested. In front of it, a patch of grass was pulled back to unravel the hidden place where book three was. Ford eagerly snatched the book in his hands, showcasing it to Stan. “Great job, Stanford!” He claps Ford’s back. “So where’s the other one, you remember?” Unfortunately for the both of them, Ford doesn’t remember. He had seemed to bury most of his memories after meeting Bill Cipher, anything beyond that point was an empty mess for him.

✶ With the two books in hand, they managed to tinker and repair the damage to their best efforts. After each exhausting night in the lab, he’d attempt to pull the lever in hopes that whatever they did that day would work and to their utter disappointment, it never dislodge from its spot. “Man,” Stan wipes his forehead with his forearm, sweat glistening on his arm. “For a brainiac like you, I would’ve never imagined you being terrible at building this!” Stan barked with a laugh. Ford scoffed, his attention laser focused on fixing a part of the machine. “How did you manage to build the portal in the first place?” Stan wondered, the flashlight he was using to help Ford see what he was doing began to steer away. “Stanley,” Ford snapped. “The light!” Stan jolted up in surprise, the light quickly going back to Ford. “Sorry,” He sheepishly said. “But seriously, how did you build this?” He looked at Ford curiously. “I had an assistant.” Ford mumbled, a leak of oil dotting his clothes. He hissed, grabbing a tool off the ground to fix whatever started leaking. “Had? What happened?” Ford hummed happily. He had fixed the leak. Placing the tool back down to the floor, he directed his attention to Stan. “He quit.” Ford scratched his head, unintentionally smearing oil on his cheek with his hand. “Why?” Stan tossed him a piece of clean cloth, silently motioning to his cheek. Ford took it, wiping his cheek with the cloth. “He, uh,” If Ford told Stan that he went inside the portal momentarily and came out completely traumatized, Stan would go berserk on him knowing that you went inside the exact portal that mentally ruined Fiddleford. Ford did not want to go back to the arguing and suffocating silence so he lied. “He just thought what I was doing was unethical.” That wasn’t a complete and total lie, but it was far from the truth. Stan bought the lie fortunately for Ford. “Glad at least someone had the brain to call a quits!” 

✶ Before they knew it, they were tremendously low on money. Stan was the unfortunate one to discover this revelation. On a quick supply run, Stan had gone to the grocery store and stock up on some food. When the cashier rang up him, totaling his price to 30 dollars, Stan had pulled out a penny, paper clip and a wrapper. Mentally cursing Ford for spending all his money on unnecessary science stuff, he weakly smiled at the cashier. “Can you hold onto my groceries for a quick second?” The cashier nodded their, a big bright smile on their face. “Of course, stranger!” And right when Stan was going to snag the groceries bags in his hurried rush, a woman spoke from behind him. “Hey, that’s no stranger! That must be the mysterious science guy in the woods!” She points, gathering a crowd around Stan. “Ah, no. That’s my nerdy twin brother.” Stan says, causing the crowd to coo in interest. “There’s two of them?” Someone in the crowd asked. “He probably cloned himself just so he could do two things at once!” Someone else said. “That’s probably what happened. I’ve heard strange stories about that old shack.” Toby Determined spoke up. “Yeah! Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!” Daryl added. “Gosh, I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up in there!” Pa said. Susan perked up at that. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?” 

✶ A sly smirked pulled to Stan’s face. He had the perfect idea. “Yes, I do give tours! Ten…no-no fifteen bucks a person!” The crowd erupts in cheers, waving their green bills around. “Is it possible we get to see the man of mystery himself?” Susan questions. “Hmm, I’m not sure.” Stan eluded them to think that there was no possible way to get to Ford to gauge their reactions. And what they gave him sent adrenaline rushing through his veins. “You know what?” The crowd lightens up with hope. “Fifty bucks if you all want to see the man of mystery himself!” Another boisterous cheer from the crowd. “And what did you say your name was, twin of mister mystery?” Stan smiled proudly. “Stanley, Stanley Pines.”

✶ The crowd bustles into the shack, ooo’s and aaa’a left their mouths in awe of the place. “Step right up folks to a world of,” he pauses for a moment thinking. “A world of enchantment!” He gestures to all the wild findings. Grabbing a dial box with two antennae, he showcases it to the crowd. “Behold! The um, nerdy science box.” Susan looked at it with interest. The device rumbled to life and zapped her in the eye, rendering it closed. “Ah, my eye!” She covers her closed eye, stumbling back. “Uh, I can assure you, that is no way permanent!” He offers an uneasy smile. “I paid sixty five dollars for this!?” With Susan’s comment, the whole crowd erupted in complaints. Quickly thinking, he grabs a skeleton and makes a half-assed joke where the last customers didn’t make it out alive. The crowd laughs at his horrible joke and Stan smiles. “What is with all this ruckus?” Ford walks in, irritation evident on his face. “Is that him?” Someone excitedly shrieks from the crowd. “Oh my god, it is! Take my money!” Wads of dollar bills get thrown at Stan who was making a great effort to make sure he caught all of them. “Stanley, what did you do!”

✶ After answering a few questions he was coaxed into, (they stroked his ego), he kicked them out, accidentally saying that they could return another time before closing the door, smacking himself in the head. “What was that?” Stan turned over to Ford,  buckets of money shoved inside into his shirt. “I got us money! And look how much we got!” He pulls a ten dollar bill from his stack in his shirt. “Stanford, this the best thing that’s ever happened to us so far.” Ford looks at him, unsure. “I’m not a fan of ripping people off,” Stan’s hands fall to his sides. “It’s their choice to throw money at me like a madman. Listen, if we get more money, we can stock up on good materials to fix the portal, like really good parts and we can finally bring [Name] back.” Ford stewed in his thoughts for a little more. He hated to admit, but Stan was right. With a little more money, they could be sailing straight to victory with a higher chance of your return. Ford let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but I don’t want you to mess with my stuff, got it?” Stan beamed brightly. “I promise!” He broke that later on. 

✶ Gradually, the scary shed in the woods turned into a tourist spot people would frequent. Together, they advertised the shack by plastering various signs and posters all over the woods. They even went as far to tape advertisements onto people’s windows. Ford wanted to use actual beasts he had found in the woods to show to people, but in the end they all ran away, horrified for their lives. Ford was respectfully peeved because when he’d glance over to Stan, he had somehow had the crowd hanging on to every word that spilled out of his mouth. And when he’d show the crudely sewed animal he had made within five minutes before the tour started, they all gasped in delight, their money flying to him. “How do you do it?” Ford asks as Stan closes the door, reveling in the pool of money he had made. “I just say whatever comes to mind.” Stan shrugs. “But none of your stories make any sense logically! How did they believe in a half beaver half bat?” He gestures to the taxidermy animal. The beady eyes were slowly sliding off its face, leaving a trail of glue. “Hey, the people love to spend their money on things that are obviously fake, weirdly enough.” The door rattles with a knock. “Wanna take this next crowd? I gotta sort this money.” Against his will, not really, Ford opens the door and flashes an award winning smile he had learned from Stan. Cash was already being shoved in his face. At least he earns money for looking good. Ford attempted Stan’s whole shtick and to his very surprise it worked! It wasn’t as good as Stan’s performance, but it worked well enough that people were swarming him with cash. His bitterness from before was quickly washed over and he continued on his act. When the crowd dispersed, satisfied with their tour. Stan was there in the middle, clapping widely. “That was some good acting there, Ford!” Ford smiled, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m only doing this cause we need the money.” 

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