#which has gotten increasingly difficult

[flowered-mp3]

y'all ever just watch someone self-sabotage themselves to the point where it's hard to watch

[gilverrwrites]

Two Wrongs

Roy Harper/Reader, 1.1K words Kinktober entry 14: Voyeurism Warnings: (Accidental) Non-con voyeurism | Tight spaces Requested by: Authors choice

Watching your roommate getting off through a crack in his wardrobe door certainly wasn't how you’d planned to spend your evening, but it was just one of those situations, you know, like quicksand, once you're in, it becomes increasingly difficult to get back out.

It had all started months ago when he had eaten the last of your leftover pizza. You'd gotten him back by putting glitter in one of his caps. He'd retaliated by stealing ALL of your socks, so you'd tied all of his shoes together by their laces with the most complex knots you could find tutorials for online. The war had been raging ever since. Most recently, Roy had ‘you-proofed’ every drawer, cabinet, and door in the apartment with a bunch of contraptions of his own design. Many of which now lay broken in his scrap bin, destroyed by your impatience.

You'd been in the process of hiding a series of miniature Green Arrow figures around his bedroom when he’d unexpectedly arrived home early. With zero forethought, you'd simply thrown yourself into his closet and hoped he'd either leave or fall asleep soon. Neither were the case.

You watched through a seam in the hatch as Roy entered his room, your jaw falling slack when he'd immediately unzipped his cargo trousers and started palming his dick through his boxers upon closing the door.

He doesn't bother surveying his surroundings, why would he? This should be his safe space. As he approaches the bed, he kicks off his shoes and socks. You're treated to the sight of his captivatingly firm and freckled ass when he removed his bottoms before finally, he falls unceremoniously upon the bed, still donning his cap and tank top.

You shouldn’t look, you tell yourself. You absolutely should not look. This is a huge breach of trust, and you'd never intended to see Roy naked, at least not like this. Yet, a depraved curiosity possesses you.

It's big. Bigger than you’d imagined, but not intimidatingly so. More, mouth-wateringly so. Thick, cut, straight, and surrounded by a thicket of fiery red hair to match that on his head.

The whole scene is strangely hypnotic; his even, rhythmic strokes, the sordid slap of his spit-slicked hand meeting the base of his cock while he so casually scrolls through his phone. You could watch him all day, but you can't. This goes far beyond a prank, and it certainly isn't fair to him.

You're not brave enough to come clean, you've seen too much. So you gently lean away from the door, closing your eyes and trying to block out the raunchy sound of Roy's heavy breathing until it’s over. Hopefully, he’ll shower or fall asleep after and you can sneak out then.

You're not expecting to hear a voice, so your heart almost stops when you hear someone squeal his name. Shit. Had he called someone? Was he seeing someone? You're struck with a pang of jealousy until you realise the voice in question is your own.

“Ahh, Roy! Are you filming me?” It’s quiet, and tinny but there’s no doubt in your mind. You can even recall when he’d recorded it; Back in the early days of your prank battle, on a hot summer day. You'd been strewn out on the couch, half-asleep in a moderately skimpy outfit that you certainly hadn’t hoped would grab Roy’s attention when you'd noticed him hovering over you with his camera. At the time you’d just assumed it was ammo for some harmless joke. Evidently not.

Peeking through the door again, you watch once more as he continues to stroke his dick, freckled cheeks growing ruddy, jaw tight as he loses himself more and more, eyes fixate on his phone screen as he uses his thumb to repeatedly rewinds back to the first few seconds of the clip. “Ahh, Roy! Ar- Ahh, Roy! Are y- Ahh, Roy!”

The debauched symphony of Roy getting off to the sound of your voice has your body feeling feverish, and you have to fight the urge to grind your nails into the wooden panel that separates you from your housemate. You’re not sure which you want more, to stuff your hand between your legs and knead you’re aching sex in time with Roy’s thrusts, or to exit your hiding spot, climb his husky, tattooed body, and ride him until you’re both completely and utterly fucked. Paralyzed by indecision, you instead watch him, restlessly motionless as he starts to lose control.

The phone falls from Roy’s hand as he bucks his way to the finish line, your name becoming a quiet, breathless prayer on his lips whilest he fucks into his hand from beneath. His eyes close, and he chews on his bottom lip, muscles growing tight until he finds his climax. You watch spellbound as an obscene amount of thick, white cum leaks from his cock, dripping down onto his hand. Wilder, stray droplets launch high, landing on his shirt but Roy neither cares nor notices as he writhes deeper into the mattress, riding out a full body high until he has nothing left to give.

You’re just as fascinated, watching him lay near motionless, enjoying the aftershock, as you had been observing the climax. There had always been tension between the two of you, but you’re starting to realise that you might be down worse than you’d thought.

Eventually, Roy returns to the land of the living, slowly shifting back up. With his clean hand, he removes his cap and pulls his soiled shirt over his head, using it to mop up the mess he’d made of himself and throwing it out of your limited line of sight. Whatever he was aiming for, you don’t doubt he made the shot.

Though you’re disappointed that the show is over, you’re growing angsty at being confined to the four walls of his closet, so when he kicks his legs over the side of the bed you get excited. The prospect of escape is so close you can taste it, until he grabs his phone once more. If he goes down a rabbit hole, you could be stuck here for hours you think, as he taps away at the touchscreen. You’re about to slink back against the wall and try to get comfortable when you’re heart drops. You feel it first, the buzz in your back pocket followed by the custom ringtone Roy had picked out for himself. Instinctively, your arms fumble to grab your phone and turn it off but Roy’s head has already snapped in your direction, his face looking as pale and as panicked as you feel on the inside.  

If you're reading this, you have impeccable taste.

Kinktober Masterlist

[postazkabansiriussupremacy]

Why? Sirius Black x Reader

Sirius is starting to feel a bit desperate to cum inside you again.

CW: Breeding kink. NSFW (obviously). Use of pet names. AFAB reader. Maybe a bit of coercion if you squint.

Sirius never put much thought into having children of his own. There were always more important matters taking over his mind: school, running away from his family, war, the Potters’ safety, being sent to Azkaban, a Potter’s safety, and then war again.

So, it’s probably safe to say this is the first time in Sirius’s life where he’s been able to settle down and focus on himself.

If you ask him, he’d say he’s doing pretty well so far.

He lives in a comfortable home adorned with plenty of windows. After spending so many years of his life stuck in dark and cramped spaces, natural lighting and a sense of openness is a must-have for him.

He spends most of his days working with the Weasley boys at the joke shop. Coming up with fresh and profound ways of helping the newest generation cause mischief is a good way to pass the time.

He has people he loves, and people who love him in return. Including you, of course.

For the first time in a long time, Sirius has roots. He’s comfortable and happy.

And maybe that’s why it’s becoming increasingly difficult for him to pull out when he’s fucking you.

It started a few months ago. You were casually complaining about the side effects of your birth control, and Sirius convinced you to stop taking it.

He promised he’ll pull out. He won’t penetrate you during your ovulation week: oral and hands only. Sure, it won’t be ideal, but he’ll do it if it means easing your pain.

So you stopped taking your birth control, and Sirius stuck to his word.

…for a little while.

Without your contraceptives in the way, it seems your libido shot up ten fold. Especially during your ovulation week. Sirius needn’t even track your cycles. He can tell what time of the month it is just by how often you’re pawing and grabbing at him.

The ‘oral and hands only’ rule didn’t last two months. The first month wasn’t too difficult, but by the second month, it just seemed too tedious, really. Why limit yourselves to certain body parts when Sirius can just pull out before cumming inside you?

It’s not rocket science.

It was a bit hard for Sirius to stick to his word, but he did it. Moments before he could shoot a load as deep into your pussy as he could reach, he’d force himself to waste it by releasing it over your tits and stomach.

It felt…. disappointing to see his ropes of cum littered all over your skin, rather than watching it drip out of your tight cunt. Even the idea of filling you up made Sirius hard again, but he couldn’t risk it.

Neither of you were ready for pregnancy, no matter how much the thought of seeing you with a newly rounded stomach made Sirius’s cock twitch and ache.

But Sirius stuck to his word. Every time he fucked you, he made sure to pull out. And it worked; you didn’t get pregnant. Sirius couldn’t help but grit his teeth and roll his eyes when he discovered you’d gotten your period that month.

Which leads us to now.

Sirius—for the third time today—sloppily making out with your cunt. His mouth feels incredible, your hands tightly gripping the bedsheets, but it feels empty. It isn’t enough.

“Sirius?” You breathe, opening your eyes and lifting your head to look down at him.

“Hmm?” He hums, circling his mouth around your clit and sucking lightly.

“Fuck—!” You gasp quickly at the small change, back arching. “Fuck me—please?”

Normally, Sirius wouldn’t need to be asked twice, but he’s feeling strangely agitated at the moment. He raises his head from between your legs, tightly gripping your inner thighs with his long fingers. He sits up on his knees, looking down at you irritably.

“Why?” He asks.

Your brain spent and foggy after several orgasms and on the brink of another one, the question confuses you. Your mouth opens and closes, not quite knowing how to answer that. It’s such an obvious answer, so what does he mean ‘why’?

Seeing your bewilderment, Sirius’s jaw sets. He isn’t sure what kind of answer he expected. Rather than explaining himself further, he aligns himself up with your cunt and pushes in. He gives you very little time to adjust, opting instead to completely bottom out inside you in one swift motion.

It’s quite easy, given that you’d already came on his mouth twice prior, but it still catches you by surprise. It’s a big change—going from being cruelly empty to achingly full.

Once inside you, Sirius rocks his hips slowly, leaning down until his lips are next to your ear. He murmurs lowly, “Do you miss me cumming inside you?”

“Miss when we’d go rounds and you’d be so full, it was practically spilling out of you?” He continues, his breath tickling your ear. “I know I do.”

“S-sirius, we can’t—I’m not-” You stutter, protesting weakly, barely believing your own words. Your fingers grasping at him, nails digging into the skin of his back.

“Why?” Sirius asks again, his voice hoarse and words sincere. “I love you. I dream of seeing you out and about, a little round stomach, knowing that I did that to you. That you’re carrying my baby.”

“A-ah!” You gasp out. Your legs wrap around his torso as he moves slowly in and out of you, the head of his cock continuously hitting that gummy sweet spot within you.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Sirius whispers, his voice intense as he can sense your fading hesitation. His hand cups the side of your face. “Tell me to fuck a baby in you.”

Breathing heavily and desperately grasping at him, you nod, giving him the go ahead to do as he pleases with you. The idea doesn’t sound half bad, after all.

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |BNHA Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Shouta Aizawa, Dabi/Touya Todoroki, and Katsuki Bakugou

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: NSFW themes. Straight up fucking, leading to sex, foul language, you get it. Reader in Dabi's is NOT of sound mind lol.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Shouta Aizawa

He doesn't know what prompted this line of thinking. Nothing had happened, no one had mentioned anything. No, this was all 100% his own doing, and that almost made it worse.

Over the years, you'd occasionally claim to have something called 'baby fever'. There would be days when you'd send him videos of babies babbling, playing, wearing silly outfits, whatever of the sort. You'd tell him your ovaries were aching, that you wanted nothing more in that moment than to have one of your own.

Being the man of reason he is, he'd always tell you that now wasn't the time. Hero work was grueling and your studies kept you busy. You'd assure him that the feelings were always (mostly) fleeting, hormones and all that, and the conversation would end there.

It had always been one-sided, that is, until a few weeks ago when he'd finally gotten a taste of said fever. Let's just say he was not a fan.

Nothing had changed, yet he found himself hyperaware of every little human in his vicinity. It's like his brain did a complete turn around. Brief glances quickly turned into longing stares. He'd internally coo over their tiny socks and bright smiles. Hell, he'd even caught himself waving at a little girl in her stroller the other day and was still living off the high he felt when she giggled and waved back.

He'd only been getting by on the idea that this was temporary. That like you, it'd be all better soon and he can go back to enjoying the simple things in life without his brain badgering him.

But that was weeks ago, and the feeling had only solidified further into his mind.

He tried to reason himself back to normal, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. You graduated two years ago and have a great job in your field. He had long surpassed the rookie stage of his career and was thriving. You lived in a decent apartment in a good neighborhood. Money was no longer tight and you'd built quite the safety cushion.

And then there was you. Again, nothing had changed overnight, but he was suddenly plagued by vivid visions of you. How easily he could get you pregnant. How you'd look so sinfully pretty with a round belly. How he'd love nothing more than to take care of you while you gave him the greatest gift he could ever hope to receive.

And he knew you'd love nothing more.

Honestly, he was having a hard time finding reasons not to cave into his desires. Which is how he suddenly found himself in such a position.

He's hovering above you, his red tinted face illuminated by the moonlight. He has your hand pinned to the mattress at an awkward angle, but neither of you are willing to move to fix it. He's darting between your eyes, words caught in his throat and no way to get them out.

Thinking and doing are two very different things, and he hadn't planned on bringing this up at all, let alone right now.

"Don't."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, not quite understanding what's going on. One moment he's rolling on top of you, kissing down your neck and over your collarbones. You're fumbling around, trying to reach for the top drawer of the nightstand when his hand shoots out to grab your wrist.

"Shouta, what-"

"Don't bother with it."

He leans down to recapture your lips, but you use your free hand to stop him in his tracks. Your eyes narrow a bit as you try to get a read on him. He usually has little tells that give away how he's feeling, but right now you can't decipher any of them. He looks just as lost as you feel.

"I haven't been taking any kind of birth control."

"I know."

"Then why are you-"

"I want a baby."

Your eyes widen and breath falters. Your hand falls from his shoulder to lay flush against your chest.

"I don't understand. You said we weren't ready."

"That was then, and this is now."

"Shou."

Despite the serious look you give him, your insides are on fire. Sure, the intense and urgent feelings associated with baby fever were always fleeting, but that didn't mean that was the only time you'd felt the desire. You always wanted a family- a husband and kids to love and cherish- and Shouta knew that.

Now here he was, telling you that after a lifetime of friendship, four years of dating, and four more years of marriage, you could finally have what you've always wanted.

He leans back enough to sit on his calves and stare down at you. He seems more sure of himself now. Whatever turmoil he had been going through earlier had subsided, and he was left more confident in his decision. He swallowed hard and fiddles with his hand a bit before deciding to rest both of them on your open thighs.

"I can't stop thinking about it. I thought it would pass, but it just got stronger. I tried talking myself down, but there's nothing stopping us anymore. We're both willing and wanting, so just..."

He's leaning back down, and this time, you don't stop him. You let him kiss you, let him trace his rough hands up your sides, let him claim you with no reservations, all while the condoms sit untouched in the nightstand.

Touya Todoroki / Dabi

Dabi had a tendency to ramble. Sometimes to himself, sometimes to whoever would listen, and sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing it.

Sex was no different.

What he says all boils down to the kind of mood he's in. If he's angry or frustrated, he'll degrade you. He'll call you a whore, tell you that you're desperate and whiney, and will shove your face into the pillow in an attempt to shut you up so he can hear himself speak. If he's in a decent mood (or being generous, as he puts it), he'll praise you. He'll mumble sweet nothings in your ear, tell you how pretty you are, how lucky he is to have you.

All of that is fine. You're more than willing to take whatever he wants to give, but lately he'd taken on an entirely different type of rant.

The first time he mumbled something about getting you pregnant, you didn't think much of it. All men succumb to their instincts at one point or another, and Dabi wasn't excluded from that. But then he mentioned it again a few days later, this time with a little more heat behind it.

You didn't say anything, instead deciding to live in your own little fantasies as long as he wasn't being reckless. Maybe that was a mistake on your part, because it's only a few weeks later that he's completely invested in the idea.

Knees pressed firmly to your chest, he's drilling into you with a new kind of passion. His forehead is against yours, his eyes screwed shut as he clutches at the backs of your thighs. You can't hear all of what he's saying over the sound of skin on skin, but it's enough to have you slightly worried.

"Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up so full."

"Bet I could get you pregnant on the first try."

"I'd take such good care of you."

"I'd be everything he wasn't, give my kids the life they deserve."

Desires to fuck you full have quickly become promises to succeed. Your fucked out brain is urging you to stop him, that he sounds a little too serious right now, but you can't find it in yourself to comply. Dabi is, without a single doubt, completely fucked in the head. This is something you're entirely too aware of and should be the thing willing you to fucking stop him, but it's not.

So you let your mind relax. You throw yourself full force into the feeling of him hitting that spongey spot deep inside. You let him kiss you and touch you and listen to all the little promises he makes.

It's no surprise when he doesn't pull out. You don't say anything when he moves to lay beside you and he doesn't bring it up. Maybe it's some kind of unspoken agreement, or maybe you were thinking too far into what very well may just be a kink. Only time will tell.

Katsuki Bakugou

"Did you seriously not pack any condoms?"

"Why the Hell would I?"

"Is that a serious question?"

You shoot him an incredulous look. He ignores you as he enters the bathroom and begins to strip out of his suit. You follow him, careful not to snag your dress on any of the luggage stacked against the wall.

You glare at him, even as he motions for you to turn around and unzips you. The white fabric bunches at your ankles and he's quick to pick it up and hang it inside the plastic dry-cleaning bag.

"Is that a serious question? You're my wife now, I'm not wearing any more fucking condoms."

"Well, you should've said that before we got here so I could've prepared something else!"

"Why the Hell would you need to do that?"

He scoffs at you and continues hanging his suit up, folding it as nicely as possible to avoid damaging the expensive material. Any sort of frustration you're feeling has been replaced by confusion. You feel like you're having two entirely different conversations.

When he finally turns back around to face you, he's staring down at you like you're the one being unreasonable. Like he doesn't understand why any of this could possibly be an issue.

"So, what? You planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and just praying for the best?"

"No. I planned on hitting raw for the next two weeks and prayed we'd go home pregnant."

Your mouth snaps shut. Any fighting spirit you possessed is gone in an instant and you're left at his mercy. He places one hand on the wall near your head and sets the other on the counter. He's looming over you, using his size to intimidate you.

"That's what we agreed on all those years ago, right?"

At first, you don't know what he's talking about. You racked your brain for any semblance of the topic, but when you came up short, you couldn't help but think he might be bullshitting you. Just as you're about to ask him for clarification, you remember a conversation you had not long after graduation.

You'd both had sidekick positions lined up right out of high school. Your careers were up and coming and your relationship was strong. While you were happy with the pace things were going, it didn't stop his parents from pestering you about next steps.

It was probably the hundredth time Mitsuki had asked you about grandkids. You'd given her plenty of reasonable reasons why kids were most definitely not in the cards right now- career opportunities, money, not to mention the fact that you were both nineteen and not even married yet- but none of that seemed to deter her.

"If not now, when can I expect some grand-babies, hm? I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"How about we focus on getting engaged and married first, then we can start talking kids."

She accepted the answer, albeit reluctantly, and backed off a bit. Later that night Katsuki had cornered you, asking how you had finally managed to get his mother off his back.

"I told we'd have to get married first."

The memory is foggy after so many years, but it's there. It was a passing conversation, an unimportant day, but it's the only time either of you had mentioned a 'when' regarding kids.

"You know, when I said we'd have to get married first, I didn't mean we'd start the same day."

He scowls and closes in on you further. He adjusts his position so you're pushed against the bathroom counter and you're suddenly very aware of just how little clothing you're both wearing. His hands land on your thighs and slowly make their way up. He grips your waist and lifts you onto the cool marble so he can stand between your legs.

"I think I've waited long enough."

Let's just say you end up with two very bold, very pink lines on the pregnancy test a few weeks after you return home.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi!! How do you think potential meet cutes with Jason would go? Do you think he’d be instantly smitten? He strikes me as the type to get a crush on you since the first meeting but maybe I’m just delusional 🥰

My honest opinion but I don’t think Jason likes smut books. He doesn’t mind a little bit of smut but would much prefer if it was nonexistent or didn’t take up a ridiculous amount of pages/chapters in the book in general.

I’m also a delusional twat anon who believes Jason would feel something upon first meetings, but firstly I have to heavily disclose that most of your run ins with one another would be in a book store/cafe, at least more so then anywhere else. (Book reader Jason supremacy!)

So to say that your interest was peaked upon first spotted a six foot something, beast of a man standing in front of the romance section, holding two different books -which were both written by the Jane Austen- in each hand was an understatement.

Normally you wouldn’t expect a man like Jason in the romance section of a small, quite but quaint bookstore/cafe, withholding an internal conflict over some books in his head as though his life depended on it. However the fact still stands that you deeply appreciate a man with good taste in his personal readings, and wasn’t afraid to indulge in the romance genre.

It probably also didn’t help that he was a conventionally attractive man with short dark hair with a tuft of white embedded in his fringe and wearing a simple read hoodie and jeans, a simple attire that anyone could wear, but on him he made it seem as though it were a main staple of his wardrobe.

Jason, knowing when he’s being watched, as quick to look over his shoulder but what he wasn’t expecting was to see someone as cute and stunning as you standing there. He’s a little tongue tied but that was mainly from surprise, and for all of Jason’s hard attempts of trying to act natural, it only made for a spectacle that you couldn’t help but view as endearing and kinda cute.

‘You alright there?’ You’d ask with a smile.

‘Yeah. I’m good, fine even.’ Jason replied, internally cursing himself for being caught off guard because he was too involved in debating which book to take home to read.

‘So…You like Jane Austen?’ You asked, trying to make room for a conversation to occur between the two of you.

‘Wha-‘ Jason looks down at the books in either of his hands and chuckles. ‘Yeah, she’s one of my favourite alongside the likes of Mary Shelley and Louisa May Alcott.’ He answers and he could tell that he had gotten your approval with the little hum of acknowledgment.

‘Do you come here often?’ You then said before adding with an awkward laugh of your own, ‘I mean I come here quite frequently as it’s the only bookstore in town that has proper books that aren’t smut books, and i have never seen you before until well…today.’ Jason smiles, finding himself growing to like you with every passing moment as he felt himself grow relaxed within your presence, especially now that he had long deducted that you weren’t a real threat.

‘I’m with you on that pretence, it’s seems that nowadays all the bookshelves in most stores are prominently smut books of lacklustre quality and story structure.’ Jason agreed, noting being a fan of those types of books himself, Jason had found it becoming increasingly difficult to find decent books that weren’t smut, badly written girl boss self inserts, or just poorly written in general. So when he stumbled across this little book store on his way home and took a chance by entering the store, only to find himself spending way longer than he had initially thought.

And that was just in the romance section alone. That’s how Jason knew this bookstore was unlike all the rest in Gotham.

‘But as to answer your question, I come here on the off chance when I’m looking for a new book to read, seeing as I have read and re-read the books in my personal possession multiple times over.’ Jason admitted and feeling a little bashful but reading had proven to be a form of escapism for him- especially after everything he has been through recently- he felt as though this escape from reality was severely overdue.

‘You’ve got your own collection of books? Am I allowed to assume that they’re mainly Jane Austen’s body of work or?’ You trailed off, feeling yourself growing more confident with talking to Jason as though it was as easy as breathing. Finally you had someone to indulge in this sort of conversation with without it feeling forced and fall to the wayside, leaving you both to soak in the awkward and stifling aftermath.

Jason smiled genuinely as he bowed his head and raised his hands. ‘You got me down to a science…’ he trailed off once realising that he didn’t know your name and cursed himself for his lack of even the basic of etiquette.

‘Y/n.’ You told him with a smile.

‘Y/n.’ He tested out your name, letting it linger for a little bit and quickly came to the conclusion that he liked it. He liked it a lot. And you liked it also, especially when he was the one saying it the way he did just now.

‘Well it’s nice to meet you y/n. My names Jason.’ Jason then said and he knew that he’d come to like the way you said his name as though it were a mythical word;

‘Jason.’ You uttered, saying every word with care and respect that it left a weird feeling within Jason’s chest that only seems to grow and spread throughout his body the more you talked.

You two would talk for literal hours about your favourite book genres, characters and so on to the point that the owner of the bookstore would have to remove you both from the premises himself. He’d then proceed to go on about how you both were just taking the piss at this point and muttering about having to stay an while longer to properly close up shop, count the cash float, and so on before then making the journey home.

He honestly didn’t care about the books in Jason’s hand, just lets him have them for free on the pretence that both he and you get the fuck out before shutting and locking the door behind you both.

‘Well…’ Jason trailed off, tucking the books under his arm. ‘Will I see you again? Preferably here?’ He asks and you smiled sheepishly.

‘Depends, will you?’ You countered and Jason could feel the smile on his lips grow at it’s own accord. ‘Yeah, I’m definitely coming back if I get free books for every time I stay until closing hours.’ He jokes and you lightly smack his bicep, keeping your hand there for an unreasonably long time but it’s not like either you or Jason cared in that moment.

‘Then I guess I’m obligated to come back here to help you piss off the bookstore owner.’ You replied with a smile of your own as you both kept looking into the other’s eyes. You both knew something had blossomed here today at this run down bookstore, and you both hoped that it could continue like that for a long while, but neither of you were willing to admit your embarrassingly rapidly growing attraction to one another. That could wait for another time.

‘Great.’ Jason said.

‘Great.’ You echoed. ‘See you soon I guess.’

‘Soon can’t come fast enough.’ Jason replied ask you both went your separate ways with eager anticipation of your next interaction.

[one-flower-one-sword]

"You came from a renowned school, an orthodox sect that never traversed the deviant path. Growing up in that sect, you were always told that ascending was the ultimate thing to strive for," Jun Wu continued. "It is very difficult to give up that sort of goal. Falling in with the Ghost Realm was an unfortunate circumstance, an act born of helplessness. Of course you cannot say you are satisfied with your position in the Ghost Realm. It was never what you wanted in the first place."

Yin Yu didn't have enough confidence to deny it. He said weakly, "Chengzhu has shown me grace. He saved me -"

"I know," Jun Wu said. "He even helped you pacify and send off Jian Yu's vengeful spirit after he died during your banishment, am I correct?"

"...Yes," Yin Yu confirmed. "So whether or not I am satisfied with my current position, it's all -"

"That is dissatisfaction," Jun Wu noted. "You are bound by his grace and have nowhere else to go. You are in denial." Yin Yu hung his head and didn't reply.

Vol 7, page 144-145

One of my favorite relationships throughout the novel, even though we get so little information about it, is Yin Yu and Hua Cheng's. Even the above tidbit is mired by the way Jun Wu is trying to manipulate Yin Yu's emotions and how Yin Yu at times responds genuinely and at others plays along to try and find a way to escape.

Once I had finished the novel, I was left wondering why there are so many fandom jokes about Yin Yu being exploited by Hua Cheng when the text seemed to paint a much different picture of what Yin Yu's life and work environment as a god was like versus as the highest ranking ghost city officer. So in this meta I try to examine and compare the two as well as try to draw conclusions about how Yin Yu felt about it all and why.

First of, I think that Yin Yu's longing to return to becoming a god is genuine, since this is what he says after he stops playing along with Jun Wu's manipulation because he's by then gotten enough spiritual energy to attack him:

"I do want to return to the heavens, I do want to be ranked in the top ten!" Yin Yu continued. "But it's completely meaningless if I don't do it on my own! I'm unlucky, I accept that! Admitting that I can't compare isn't that hard!" Vol 7 page 152

Which is interesting, considering this is what he felt like when he was still a god in heaven while Quan Yizhen hadn't yet ascended:

A good while later, [Quan Yizhen] said bluntly, "I don't like it here."

Yin Yu said nothing.

"They think I'm annoying, but I think they're even more annoying," Quan Yizhen continued. "Before, I could train at least sixteen hours a day. Now half the time is taken up by talking and listening to nonsense, by greeting and visiting people. There are people who yell at me and hit me for no good reason, without apologizing, and I can't even fight back. This isn't heaven. I don't like it here."

Yin Yu sighed. "I don't like it here either."

"Then let's go back," Quan Yizhen said.

But Yin Yu only shook his head, "Even though I don't like it here, I want to stay."

Quan Yizhen couldn't understand. "Why do want to stay if you don't like it here?"

Yin Yu was stumped, and chuckled in spite of himself. He didn't know what to say, unable to explain it to him. How could he convey to Quan Yizhen that reaching the Heavenly Capital was the dream of so many people who sought the path of cultivation, the ultimate end goal? Or just how difficult it was for someone his age to achieve ascension?

Vol 5, page 271-272

Yin Yu essentially seemed to be struggling with sunk cost fallacy, where he put his everything into ascending to heaven and so wants to stay there even though it's making him increasingly unhappy. It's interesting that Jun Wu accuses him of being in denial about his unhappiness in the Ghost Realm, when Yin Yu in the past seemed to be in denial about his unhappiness in heaven. Especially since this is what he was being treated like as soon as his power and influence were in decline:

Yin Yu and Jian Yu were seated next to the "Earth Master." Their assigned seats were considered the edge of the banquet. Yin Yu wasn't eating or talking to anyone. [...]

At the other end of the banquet, there was already a large crowd of heavenly officials fighting to greet Quan Yizhen. The surrounding crowd had completely blocked the person at the center from sight. It appeared that this was soon after Quan Yizhen ascended and established his own palace. He was at the height of his popularity in heaven, in contrast to how he was disliked by most of the present court. Although the two were both Martial Gods of the West, he was significantly more prominent than Yin Yu. The attendees all swarmed over, leaving the table where Yin Yu sat quiet and empty.

Vol 5, page 273-275

I've talked about this in my Yin Yu & Quan Yizhen meta as well, how Yin Yu tries to get by in heaven by conforming and submitting to the elitist power structures it's based on:

Quan Yizhen kept going. "They cussed at me first. I don't even know them. They said I was a low-ranking heavenly official and yelled at me for no reason, then they laughed at me and told me to scram and not to block their way [...]" "Are low-ranking heavenly officials below other people?" Quan Yizhen asked.

"No," Yin Yu replied. Was that true? It was obvious he didn't believe his own words, and Quan Yizhen noticed.

Vol 5, page 271

and how it starts to chip away at the kindness and the moral backbone he showed while still in his sect:

"Shidi, the things you're all saying aren't right." The crowd was taken aback. "I'm going to say something unpleasant," Yin Yu continued. "No matter what path we cultivate, talent truly is an incredible thing. And he is not only talented, he is willing to work hard. If you really think Shifu is playing favorites, then let's work harder to keep up with him - maybe even overtake him. And then things like training halls and supplements will naturally be open to everyone. Rather than wasting time being angry at him, your priority should be training harder. Am I right?" [...]

"You really don't need to mind them. You didn't do anything wrong. It's fine like this." Anyone with clear eyes could see that the other disciples couldn't stand Quan Yizhen. They found fault everywhere, and it wasn't because of his big appetite, or because he wasn't a morning person, or because he was inconsiderate and a poor teammate who only cared about showing off. At the end of the day, what they really couldn't stand was this: he was the last to enter the school, but he received the most. Quan Yizhen nodded. "I think so too." Yin Yu patted his shoulder. "Go train! That's what's most important. Don't think about anything unnecessary." [...]

After watching the two scenarios, Xie Lian praised Yin Yu. "San Lang, that subordinate of yours really is a rare character. What a good heart."

Vol 5, page 262 + 264

Everything Yin Yu and Quan Yizhen already struggled with in their sect - the jealousy, the bullying, the competition for resources - is even worse in heaven, which actively encourages the endless competition for devotees and subordinates as well as the exploitation and mistreatment of those of "lower rank". No matter how hard Yin Yu tries to conform to these structures, they steadily wear away at both the way others see him and also how he sees himself:

After closing the gates, Yin Yu's voice grew louder. "Don't say any more! I don't want to hear it! It's very normal for an ascended heavenly official to establish a palace, so he didn't do anything wrong. Since you get irritated just talking about him, why must you constantly bring him up?" "Please don't think that I'm speaking out of turn, but someone must remind you. Yin Yu, the west is only so big, and there are only so many devotees. He's already taken so much. That wolf yao kill should've been yours, but he stole it! Look at the state of you now - your domain's shrinking smaller and smaller. How much do you have left? Can you maintain your standing if this keeps up?" "How is what he's done theft? It's not like he's forcing anyone to worship him at knifepoint - everyone's willing. Besides, that wolf yao..." Yin Yu sighed and said frankly, "I couldn't have defeated it. It was useless praying to me, so of course they went to him." "I just... I'm worried that if this fight continues, he'll win and leave us with nothing," Jian Yu said bitterly. "Fuck, even those lower-ranking officials only care about their own advancement - each one of them coming up with empty excuses to quit and slipping away to serve under other heavenly officials. What a bunch of no-good asshats!" Yin Yu sighed again and sat down on a prayer cushion. "What fight are you talking about...? Why care for such things? Those who want to leave will always leave in the end, and those who want to stay will naturally remain. I didn't ascend to fight for power with anyone, nor squabble over domains, nor quarrel, so why can't you let this go?" Vol 5, page 277

This is a stark contrast not only to the kind of standing he had while he was still in his sect:

Yin Yu pushed them away, urging them to leave. He sighed. "You said yourself that he's insane, so why bother with him?" It was easy to see that Yin Yu's words held weight with his peers at this point in his life. Although the crowd was still upset, they left as told. Vol 5, page 257

But especially to the kind of authority and respect that his position in Ghost City offers him:

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the ghost crowd. They immediately parted, forming a path, as if someone of importance had arrived. Xie Lian came to his senses and saw a tall, black-clad figure walking straight toward him through the path created by the mob. That person yelled, "Settle down. Let him go!" The black-clad figure, like most of the ghosts on the street, wore a mask. It was a funny mask, with a face that was contorted as if it was smiling woefully. The mob muttered under their breath, "It's the Waning Moon Officer!", and they released their hold on Xie Lian at last. It seemed this black-clad figure was someone significant in Ghost City. Vol 2, page 99

It's also worth mentioning at this point that I think people forget that Yin Yu does not always necessarily work alone and has to do everything by himself but that he has his own subordinates:

After taking a moment to contact his subordinates in Ghost City, Yin Yu meticulously reported the general directions of each sighting.

Vol 7, page 48

Another very important thing to take away from the argument between Jian Yu and Yin Yu is that while still a god in the heavens, Yin Yu had no confidence that he'd be able to fight a wolf yao, yet in the amnesiac extra, he shows no signs of hesitancy or fear when Hua Cheng orders him to go after the monster that stole Xie Lian's memories:

He was still trying to process what he'd learned when he heard San Lang say, "I need to attend to him right now and can't leave. Catch that monster before tomorrow night and bring it to me." "Yes, sir. Shall I leave it one last breath?" the man in the ghost mask asked quietly. San Lang put down his brush and glanced at what he'd written, which he then crumbled up and tossed away, apparently unsatisfied. "Leave it a few. Make it spit out what it swallowed, then crush its worthless head to dust. Make it slow and painful." His tone and expression were both quite frightening, yet Xie Lian didn't find him repulsive or alarming. The man in the ghost mask acknowledged San Lang’s order and was about to take his leave, so Xie Lian quickly dodged away and hid. Vol 8, page 226-227

Which leads me to another important point - the amount of trust Hua Cheng shows Yin Yu by the kind of missions he sends him on. If he didn't have a high opinion of Yin Yu's abilities, he would never send him after something like a monster that had eaten Xie Lian's memories, given how incredibly important Xie Lian's wellbeing is to Hua Cheng. There's many other examples too - like how Hua Cheng trusted Yin Yu to help with tricking Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian into saving "Ming Yi", or how he entrusted the Earth Master Shovel to him. But Hua Cheng also does not ask the impossible of him - when they're all trapped in heaven and Yin Yu started to dig tunnels with the Earth Master Shovel to try and free Xie Lian and the others so they could recover and become strong enough to escape, Hua Cheng cautions them against it because he correctly deduces that "you'll be seeking your own deaths if you try to break out under Jun Wu's watch." (Vol 7, page 130) Even though Yin Yu is with Xie Lian, Hua Cheng doesn't expect him to get Xie Lian out on his own, because he knows how powerful and ruthless Jun Wu is.

For extra emphasis, let's compare Hua Cheng’s regard for Yin Yu and his abilities to the way Jun Wu never even deemed to speak to Yin Yu while he was a god because he was so very much "beneath" him:

"My dear Yin Yu, I do not think I have ever chatted with you like this before. Isn't that right?"

"I guess not..." Yin Yu replied cautiously.

Even back when he was the martial god who ruled the west, his base of believers wasn't strong, his merits were few, and his rank wasn't impressive. He wasn't the lowest ranked of the heavenly officials in the Upper Court, but he was still below average, so he'd had almost no opportunities to interact with the Heavenly Emperor - the highest of the high.

Vol 7, page 142-143

Keeping all of that in mind, it's very interesting that Jun Wu tries to tempt Yin Yu to his side by offering him the position of his right-hand man:

Finally, Yin Yu asked, "In the Upper Court, I... What... would my position be?"

"Ling Wen will be my left hand, and you shall be my right," Jun Wu said. "There will be none above you besides me."

Vol 7, page 149

When that really is a position Yin Yu already holds - he's Hua Cheng's right-hand man. Now, one could argue that Yin Yu does have less power and prestige in the position of a ghost realm officer than he would have as a god - there's no believers worshipping him - but I think the point is that he doesn't answer to anyone but Hua Cheng, that there's no one else competing with him for that position, no one else among his subordinates that Hua Cheng puts this much trust in, and that there's no one else besides Hua Cheng himself who is demonstrated to hold so much authority and respect in Ghost City. And with all of the above, it's really important to keep in mind that Ghost City is the one single autonomous place in all the three realms and that its Chengzhu is the one single being whose power and influence is rivaled only by the Heavenly Emperor himself.

And said Heavenly Emperor damn well knows Yin Yu is Hua Cheng's right-hand man, which is I believe a big part of the reason he tries to flip Yin Yu by dangling this exact position in front of him. As I've talked about before in other posts, Jun Wu hates Hua Cheng deeply for various reasons. There's the whole thing where Hua Cheng is the unmistakable proof of a believer that never leaves their god, the very thing Jun Wu felt entitled to but didn't receive. But in this case I think him wanting to tempt Yin Yu away from Hua Cheng's side is about how bitter and salty Jun Wu feels about the fact that Hua Cheng holds more sway over all three realms than he does - evidenced by the way Hua Cheng doesn't just have followers in the Ghost Realm but the Human Realm as well, and even the gods, while they fear him, also can't help but admire him and strike deals with him in secret (Vol 1, page 157-160). That Yin Yu, a banished god, would (just like Xie Lian) rather be loyal to Hua Cheng than Jun Wu - that must have angered him a lot because it's something he'd take quite personally.

This is, I think, also the root of why Yin Yu has so much trouble seeing his position in the Ghost Realm for what it really is and why he still longs to be a god despite how unhappy he was in the heavens and how badly he was treated there - he can't see past the prejudices about the Ghost Realm in general and Ghost City in particular that he has internalized. Prejudices that Jun Wu actively weaponizes every time he speaks to Yin Yu, by repeatedly insinuating that being a ghost city officer is a shameful thing to be:

"Surely you do not actually like being a mere pawn in the Ghost Realm?" [...] "Falling in with the Ghost Realm was an unfortunate circumstance, an act borne of helplessness." [...] "You are bound by his grace and have nowhere else to go." [...]

Vol 7, page 144

Which makes it all the more satisfying when Yin Yu tricks Jun Wu (or attempts to, at least) and ultimately rejects both his offer and his authority, and also calls Jun Wu out on the way he tried to manipulate him:

"My Lord... My... No, not My Lord! You! Why must you keep reminding me of that?! Why do you speak like you actually understand me?!"

Vol 7, page 151

Jun Wu is deeply enraged by his defiance and rejection - in general, but also because it reminds him of Xie Lian's defiance against him:

Jun Wu turned around with a casual sweep of his hand. "Exhilarating. You and Xianle must get along well."

Vol 7, page 152

This brings me to my final point - which is that choosing kindness and righteousness even in the face of criticism and rejection, of personal loss and suffering, is what Jun Wu hates the most, and what ties Xie Lian and Hua Cheng, Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu, and Yin Yu and Hua Cheng together. Hua Cheng was drawn to Xie Lian because Xie Lian chose to treat him kindly when everyone else abused and rejected Hua Cheng and pressured Xie Lian to do the same. Similiar things can be said for Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu, since Yin Yu was the one to ask his sect's shifu to take Quan Yizhen in when he came across him as a seemingly abandoned child, and who repeatedly defended Quan Yizhen from the other sect members' judgement and bullying, even though this earned Yin Yu their ire as well. Yin Yu, too, values kindness very highly:

Yin Yu sobbed. "If I wasn't destined to be perfect, I at least wanted to be perfectly kind. But... I couldn't even manage that." (Vol 7, page 156)

Therefore, though we get very little information on their first meeting, I think kindness is also what drew Yin Yu to Hua Cheng, what made him stay loyal to him even when tempted/threatened by Jun Wu, and what made him go right back to working for him after the events of the main story. Because while we get only this one mention, I think a great deal can be gleaned from it:

"Chengzhu has shown me grace. He saved me - "

"I know" Jun Wu said. "He even helped you pacify and send off Jian Yu's vengeful spirit when he died during your banishment, am I correct?"

Vol 7, page 144

It's not just he helped me, it's he saved me. And not only that, Hua Cheng, in a sense, saved Jian Yu as well by helping him move on, which I would assume was simply because Yin Yu wished for his friend to let go of his resentment and not become stuck as a vengeful spirit. What I think is really important to keep in mind here is that not only was Hua Cheng under no obligation to save Yin Yu, he had, objectively speaking, nothing to gain from it. He Xuan was already in the heavens by then and giving Hua Cheng intel. and Hua Cheng didn't show off that he had a banished god working for him either - he let Yin Yi wear a mask, and for years, no one (except apparently Jun Wu) knew where Yin Yu was or what had happened to him, evidenced by the way Quan Yizhen kept looking and kept asking about him to no avail (Vol 5 page 235).

We don't really get Hua Cheng's side of the story but I think the fact that he doesn't speak about it speaks for itself - aside from keeping things close to his chest in general, he tends to not talk about the things he does out of kindness and/or his own sense of justice. We see this for example when Xie Lian only finds out why the group of cultivators is after Hua Cheng when he overhears them saying that Hua Cheng chose to shelter both the pig spirit and the prostitute ghost who had chosen to take revenge on humans who had used their positions of power to hurt others (Vol 5 page 28-29).

This is therefore more speculation than analysis, but I can imagine that this whole scenario - a god with a good heart who gets abandoned by the heavens with only a vengeful spirit by his side - even though the exact circumstances that led to it differed, might have held enough similarities to what Hua Cheng personally witnessed of Xie Lian's banishment that it would bring out that same urge to help and protect in Hua Cheng. The fact that Yin Yu says Hua Cheng saved him really can't be overstated in my opinion, considering that Hua Cheng, understandably, has usually nothing but feelings of either indifference or hatred for all of the gods aside from Xie Lian and the Rain Master.

To sum up - the power structures in heaven encourage workplace harassment, bullying, and endless competition for resources and support, and this causes Yin Yu not only increased stress, isolation, and unhappiness, but also puts a strain on his inherent kindness and righteousness as he starts to give in under the pressure to conform. By contrast, his position in Ghost City is dependant on nothing but his loyalty to Hua Cheng, on Yin Yu's own choice to stay with him, and offers him an unprecedented amount of respect and trust. It is heaven, really, that is repeatedly shown to mistreat and exploit its officials, especially those of lower rank, not Hua Cheng.

[show-your-fangs]

omg omg omg can I pls request hotch genuinely being the most clueless, dumb-and-in-love individual?

Basically the team has to point it out to him for him to see how soft he is for reader and how differently he treats them 💗😩 he’s in love, your honour 🤭

i love our stupid man in love, he's so cute i can't.

this is part two of this blurb from my moments au

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 1.7k

CW: nothing, just fluff.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

He didn’t ask you out that night. Neither Morgan or Rossi won the bet, the unfortunate draw making them only want to try harder to win over the other.

That had been a week ago, the pool only growing as more agents got in on it and it had somehow gotten out of hand really quickly. Penelope had been tasked with keeping track of the bets, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her mouth shut about it, especially when she was around you. 

The team had left for a case earlier in the week which meant you were spending a lot of time with her. From helping with research, running point from the office, making calls and setting up permits, warrants, everything and anything they needed, you were practically tied at the hip as per usual when the team was away. The only problem? Penelope Garcia could not keep a secret to save her life, and the more time she spent with you, the more she almost slipped and told you what was going on.

You had closed the case earlier that night after five days of grueling work. You were exhausted, more so emotionally than physically, so you’d invited Penelope to dinner as way to celebrate the little victory. But what had started as a simple night out had quickly turned wild as the waiter had taken a liking to her and kept the cocktails coming throughout your entire meal. You were on dessert, a forgettable chocolate lava cake with ice cream when she finally slipped.

“I just think it’s so silly,” she giggled in between sips of her drink and scoops of dessert. 

“What’s silly?” you egged her on, whatever this secret was had eluded you for the entire week and you just needed to know. 

“How much Hotch likes you,” her cheeks flushed pink but her brain didn’t realize what’d she’d admitted to yet, allowing her to continue. “The team has a bet going on when he’s going to ask you out and everything.” 

“Huh,” you mused. “That is silly.”

That’s when her brain snapped, dread and realization washing over her all at once. Her eyes widened, her spoon fell from her hand and onto the plate. 

“Oh my gosh, do you not like Hotch back? I could’ve sworn— I am mortified! Forget I told you, please I am begging you—”

You reached over and placed your hand over hers, gently soothing her out of her panic as a mischievous smile curled on your lips. 

“Can you get me on the board, Pen?”

Apparently they were all convinced it wasn’t happening for a while. They had decided to overcorrect their previous assumptions, placing bets that were days if not weeks in the future. Penelope had added you to the bet list that same night, promising to keep the secret until the next morning. 

You knew the clock was ticking, knew that once you started the countdown, you had no business losing your courage. It was now or never, and the reminder that soon the rest of the team would be shuffling into the bullpen to start their day, that they’d know someone else had made a risky bet — it only got your adrenaline pumping even more. 

You poured his coffee as you watched him enter the office, gaze on his phone, powerful and confident strides leading him towards his office. He turned and waved from the top of the stairs once he finally noticed you, a small smile on his lips. You smiled back, your cheeks reddening slightly as you finished getting your own coffee in order, the pale tan a contrast to his straight black. 

You made your way to his office a minute after he’d settled, placing his cup on his desk and taking a seat across from him. This had been your routine for months now, you’d bring him his coffee in the morning and the two of you would fill each other in on your lives. 

Aaron had been dealing with his divorce, the guilt of having to split Jack’s time between him and his mom, the added stress of finding a new place and moving, of finding himself alone when he’d been used to always having someone to come home to after a tough case. And you? You had just started going to therapy after he’d encouraged you to. It had been a rocky adjustment to the job, and you were glad that you could confide in him as your boss but also as your friend. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, pulling out the case files he’d taken back home the night before. 

You shot him a look, the look, and he couldn’t help but sigh deeply. You weren’t angry, you were simply disappointed, and he knew that. It had been hard, harder now that he had to force himself back out there if he wanted to actually have a life. But even after months of this new normal, the idea of dating made him even more exhausted than he’d like to admit. 

Because while Morgan or Emily thrived meeting new people, Aaron had met Haley in high school. He’d been with one woman his entire life, one woman for more than twenty years. He was rusty to say the least, the insecurity of it only growing the more he refused to take the leap, the more he refused to feel his feelings, the more he fell in love with you. 

“Haley had Jack last night—” he started but you were quick to interrupt him. 

“That’s a terrible excuse,” you chided. “There’s a million things you could’ve done instead.”

“Oh yeah?” the mischief was back in his eyes, making you gulp visibly. “What did you do last night?”

Your mouth opened in mock annoyance, he couldn’t possibly know—

“For your information, sir,” you mocked. “I went out with Penelope last night.” 

Whatever glimmer of hope Aaron had cultivated to tease you about taking work back home was extinguished in a second. He sat back in his chair, inaudibly admitting defeat. 

“Maybe that’s what you need too,” you started, your heart racing once more. His eyebrows shot up and you could tell his blood had also gotten to his head. “Ask someone out, go on a date, get laid.”

That caught him off guard completely. If he had been sipping on his coffee he would’ve choked, made an even bigger fool of himself. But instead his cheeks just reddened, his ears quickly following suit, a detail he knew you knew about him as you’d pointed it out many times in the past.

But you didn’t today, you didn’t say anything about his reaction but he was too hot to notice it right away.

“It’s what I have to do too, honestly,” you shrugged, faux confidence somehow allowing you to not combust right then and there. 

“Do you now?” he managed through gritted teeth, the idea of you dating something that he made sure never to think about because it always led him down a dark path of rage and an ungodly desire to ravage you to the point where you belonged to him and no one else. 

“Yeah,” you drawled on, almost sighing dramatically. That’s when he caught on, when his brain finally reconnected to his body and his heart only sped up even more. “But I don’t know…I’m not really into any of the guys Penelope or Emily have tried to set me up with, they’re not really my type.”

God, this was not actually happening. “What is your type?”

“Crime fighting single dads who adore their kids and participate in triathlons for fun,” there was no misinterpreting it now. 

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” the words flew out of his mouth before either of you could register them. 

A bright smile took over your lips, your eyes sparkling with happiness. A shy smile slowly started to turn adorably embarrassed on his, his gaze tentatively raising to meet yours, eyebrows raised almost pleading, his eyes round and hopeful. 

“I would love to,” you said and he graced you with the most beautiful full smile you’d ever seen from him. It was unrestricted, genuine, life giving. 

“Great,” he cleared his throat as the clock struck eight, the reality of the world outside of your little office bubble a reminder of where you were. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Can’t wait,” you reassured him, standing up with your own untouched coffee mug and making your way downstairs. “Oh, and it’s my treat. Trust me.”

You were gone before he could argue, but you knew that he couldn’t stop smiling, the warmth radiating from him was enough for you know it deep in your bones.

“Babygirl,” Morgan asked aloud, holding up the list of bets that Penelope had left on his desk earlier as the blonde returned to the bullpen from her office. “What’s this?”

He tapped on the bet you’d written down, the other agents gathering to inspect the new addition.  

“Proof of my victory, Derek,” you said cockily as Penelope handed you the envelope full of cash. 

The entire team turned to you, eyes wide and anger slowly boiling. But none of them let it out, instead they all looked impressed, they respected the move, the hustle, the boldness. Morgan scoffed in proud defeat as he held out his fist for you to bump, and you did, excitedly.  

It had finally happened, the start of something that had been brewing for months, and you couldn’t be happier. While the girls walked up to you to get all the details you shot Aaron a cheeky glance as Penelope filled Emily and JJ in on your conversation the night before, and for the first time ever, Aaron allowed himself to meet your glance, unashamed to be caught staring at you. 

i've been smiling like an idiot all day

taglist: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer, @mrs-ssa-hotch

[taesanrot]

[love these days] eunseok x f!reader | 3.3k best friends to lovers, implied college au, making out, alc consumption, mutual pining, mls are both a lil dumb, cute n fluffy w a lil smut n angst syn. in which you drunkenly attempt to prove to your friends that you have absolutely no feelings towards your best friend (spoiler alert... you fail) note. storyline is based off of the manhwa these days love special! it's a super cute one shot and a comfort read for me so you guys should check it out. ++ thank u so so much for the support on the teaser, i honestly wrote it on a whim but i'm v proud of this fic so i hope u guys like it as welll <3

you winced at how loud your friends were yelling, sipping on your drink in a weak attempt to calm your nerves. you'd foolishly thought that coming out to drink with your friends would lift up your mood after your terrible week.

you were immediately proven wrong, chaewon and anton's loud arguing was making your head hurt and you just wanted to go home and snuggle into your blanket.

staring at the table top, you lost yourself in your own racing thoughts. you were pulled out of your trance as shotaro nudged you. you looked up at him drearily, and he gave you a sad smile, ruffling your hair.

"what's up? you seem downer than usual." you gave him a weak half smile, opening your mouth to answer his question. you were interrupted by a loud outburst from sohee.

"what do you guys think about guys and girls being best friends? do you think they can stay platonic?" the entire table erupted with noise, everyone drunkenly chiming in to answer his question.

"what on earth are you saying sohee? of course they can!"

"don't you know if you like someone the second you meet them? how can you catch feelings after being friends?"

"kissing my guy friends sounds fucking disgusting, yall stay safe."

you stayed silent, knowing better than to respond -- you already answered sohee's question with your own traitorous heart. you glanced at the table next to yours, eyes landing on the reason you were keeping your mouth shut.

your best friend, song eunseok.

who you were, unfortunately, in love with.

you and eunseok had met in during your college orientation, finding that your personalities clicked quite well as you discussed your respective majors and classes. the rest was history, you two bonded fast, and you quickly became one of his closest friends. it didn't help that the two of you lived in the same apartment complex, meaning that you basically ended up walking home together everyday.

it became a routine, even if the two of you had separate plans you'd meet up somewhere and walk back together

if you were being honest to yourself, you'd been attracted to eunseok from the day you'd met him.

sometimes, you'd think back to the early days of your and eunseok's friendship and wondered how you'd manage to not confess right then and there. chasing the high of the closeness of your friendship had satisfied you somehow.

these days, though, you started to think that you were losing your mind. your feelings for eunseok have only grown stronger as time has passed, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain your usual subtlety.

you felt like you were at your wit's end, ready to confess and be over all of this. and a couple days ago, you had been planning to do just that.

[...]

you reread eunseok's text in confusion, hoping you were walking in the right direction.

you had just gotten out of your last class, and eunseok had texted you to meet him and some other friends on the building's rooftop. you walked around a corner, recognize the back of eunseok's head and his terrible posture.

he was sitting at some picnic tables with two underclassman. just as you were about to wave, you hear one of the other boys speak.

"y/n.... as in kim y/n? you two are pretty close huh, eunseok?" you immediately darting back around the corner, hoping they hadn't seen you yet.

you pulse thrummed under your skin. they were talking about you. you felt your breath hitch as you heard eunseok's tired voice.

"cmon, you know it's not like that, sohee" sohee's loud laugh rang through the air.

"you wish it was though, don't you seokie?" a third voice, hong seunghan, chimed in. you cupped a hand over your mouth to suppress your nervous laughter. you heard eunseok shift in his seat before he spoke the words that would ruin your week.

"y/n.... she's nice and i like her. she's not even close to my type, though."

your face twitched and you clenched your hands into fists, nails digging crescents into your palms. you had to get out of here, and get out of there you did.

turning in the direction you'd come from minutes ago, you disappeared down the stairs, bolting to the comfort of your apartment. you shot eunseok a text later and make up an excuse, saying something came up on the way there. he never questioned it, thankfully.

[...]

remembering it made your shoulders sag, and you sighed for what had to be the 30th time that night, taking another swig from your beer.

of course you of all people would get rejected before you even had the chance to confess. you finally tuned back into the conversation. to your dismay, sungchan had begun to gush over his girlfriend of five years.

"it doesn't matter what i think, i'm already locked in for good." everyone rolled their eyes as he turned his phone around to show you guys pictures of his girlfriend, jiwoo, pictures that everyone had already seen a million times.

"isn't she so cute? i miss her, she's so busy these days."

huffing slightly, you felt your eyes waver over to the table next to yours. to certain brown haired boy, more importantly.

normally, eunseok would be drinking with you and your friends, but he was supposed to be getting to know some of the people in his major department better.

one of the students in question was doe-eyed underclassman sullyoon. your stomach turned uncomfortably as you watched her prettily laugh at eunseok's quips, covering her mouth politely and crinkling her eyes ever so slightly. it was impossible for you to look away as she unabashedly flirted with your best friend; the sight was almost nauseating.

jealousy tore through you, an eerie sadness filling you up from bottom to top. she was just his type, you realized, the epiphany making your mood even worse than it already was. today was the worst.

sullyoon's advances and your completely-not-subtle staring didn't go unnoticed by shotaro either.

"guess she's laid her claim on eunseok, huh?" he joked, nudging your side playfully. you dreadfully gulped down the last of your beer.

"how would i know?" you spoke gloomily, and a frown slowly etched itself onto shotaro's face as he put together the pieces in front of him.

his gaze remained on your dull figure for a moment longer before he suddenly sat up and gasped, grabbing your attention.

"guys, we're forgetting about the closest guy and girl here! aren't you best friends with song eunseok, y/n?" your eyes widen as shotaro's words boom through the bar. after a short pause, your friends went into uproar.

"hey, you're right, taro"

"do you like eunseok, y/n?"

"oh my god do you think they've kissed"

the words coming out of shotaro's mouth reached your ears almost in slow motion. your posture stiffened and you coughed roughly in shock, looking over to make eye contact with an unamused eunseok. his table had fallen into silence as well, everyone listening and waiting for what you had to say.

oh god, does he think i told him to say that? he's gonna think i like him. fuck fuck fuck.

alcohol tainted thoughts ran through your head as you panicked, trying to think of ways to shut down the conversation as quick as possible.

"you guys are crazy. me and eunseok could shower together and i still wouldn't catch feelings" seriously? that was the best you could think of?

berating yourself internally, you tried your hardest to fake nonchalance and act like that blatant lie wasn't tearing you in two. you glanced over at your best friend again, his expression unreadable. there was no going back; you really had to get over eunseok now.

tearing your gaze away from him, you downed the rest of your beer and glared at osaki shotaro's back.

[...]

"it's too earlyyyy we can't go home" chaewon half spoke and half shrieked, arm wrapped around sohee's shoulder.

"let's go to karaoke!" seunghan chirped, his suggestion earning cheers. you and eunseok both stepped away from the group, saying quiet goodbyes and excusing yourselves to walk back home. your friends cheered seeing the two of you walk away together, and you wished a hole would open in the ground and swallow you whole.

"god i feel like shit" you groaned, rubbing your forehead drearily. eunseok chuckled at your frazzled state, tugging the sleeve of your jacket and pulling you closer to him.

you held your breath as he playfully tugged the hood of your zip up over your face, laughing at the way you sputtered curses at him. the two of you bantered like this almost all the way until your place. when the two of your finally fell into a peaceful silence, you spoke.

"sullyoon seemed pretty into you." you craned your neck and tilted your gaze to the dark sky, hoping the boy next to you wouldn't be able to notice the sadness in your eyes. eunseok rolled his eyes at your question and coughed.

"did she, now?" playing dumb, he smirked at the way your gaze whipped to his face, staring at him incredulously. he hadn't helped himself to nearly as many drinks as you, a slight buzz coursing through his veins.

"i mean i found it pretty obvious." this time, eunseok laughed loudly. you really couldn't hold yourself back at all when you were wasted. your eyebrows furrowed and a blush ran across your cheeks at his laughter and response.

usually, you were pretty careful with how much you drank around your best friend, not wanting to unintentionally expose the feelings your fought so hard to hide from him.

unfortunately, past you did not anticipate shotaro's quips or the events of the past few days, the frustration leading you to allow yourself more drinks than usual.

the front door of your apartment complex came into view before eunseok could answer you. looking at your flushed face and droopy eyes, he decided it'd be best for him to help you to your place. the two of you rode in the elevator in silence, opening to your floor. you're face contorted in confusion as eunseok stepped out as well, hand coming to rest on your back as he led you to your unit.

"what're you doing?" you slurred at him. the fresh air had done nothing to sober you up, and eunseok rolled his eyes with a smile.

"making sure you actually make it to your bed." he fished your keys out of your pocket for you and opened the door to your small apartment. slightly tripping over your feet, you walked in and kicked off your shoes.

before you could even think of slumping onto the floor or your kitchen, eunseok grabbed your shoulders and led you to your room, laughing as you swatted his hands and sat on your bed.

you groaned as you leaned back and laid on your bed, exhaustion catching up to you. you brought a hand up to shield your eyes from the dizzying ceiling light. feeling the bed dip slightly next to you, you turned your gaze to eunseok. he was sitting right next to your laying figure, hand coming up to rub your shoulder lightly.

"cmon, you gotta actually get ready for bed." eunseok sighed and shook his head, pinching your neck and earning another groan.

after a painfully long amount of time, eunseok had managed to get you off your bed and into the bathroom. he helped your wipe off your leftover makeup and made sure you took out your contacts and brushed your teeth.

routine complete and pajamas adorned, you stood and stared at your awaiting bed, something stopped your from getting in and slipping underneath the covers.

eunseok turned off the lights in your bathroom and the rest of your apartment before returning to your bedroom with a glass of water.

"here, have some water." after seeing your stilled figure still standing next to the head of the bed, his eyebrows furrowed.

"are you okay?" the boy inquired. he reached his hand out to rest on the small of your back, but you turned and sat down on the bed before he had the chance.

"seokie..." you mumbled softly. eunseok felt his cheeks burn at the nickname the rolled off your drunken tongue. you'd only used it a few times -- almost always when you were intoxicated. eunseok never found it in him to tell you he loved it.

"i lied earlier, i'm sorry." you stared at your socked toes and eunseok's brows furrowed in confusion. lied? what is she talking about?

"about what?" you looked up to meet eunseok's eyes. they bored into you, sending a shiver down your spine as your mouth suddenly dried up. clearing your throat slightly, the secret you had been keeping for so long slipped from your lips.

"i can't shower with you." well, not quite. eunseok chuckled lightly at your serious tone.

"what? why does that matter?" he pried further, chuckling at your pout. you didn't find this situation amusing, all of the memories of eunseok rejecting you flowing back into your mind. letting out a tearful sigh, your face fell into your hands with a loud smack.

"i can't because i already have feelings for you!" eunseok's lazy smile dropped immediately, not only at the fact that you just confessed to him, but also because you were now crying into your hands.

"i like you so much, i'm sorry seokie. sohee was right about me." you sniffled and cried even harder into your hands, not realizing eunseok kneeling in front of you. your crying subsided as eunseok's hands wrapped around yours, pulling them away from your teary face.

"you're seriously something else." your best friend smiled at your teary eyes and red nose. even while crying you looked so adorable to him. you opened your mouth to whine at him but he placed a finger over your lips, continuing.

"i can't shower with you either, y/n" your face crumpled even more.

"because i'm not even close to your type! i already know that, you asshole." it was your turn to stare in confusion as eunseok laughed and shook his head.

"no, don't you get it?" a thick silence hung in the air as you racked your brain for any possible explanation.

because he wants to keep things platonic? no, that can't be it. or maybe ...

no.

does he... like me?

eunseok watched the gears turn in your head, seeing your face fill with realization before you spoke.

"do you l-" eunseok didn't give you a chance to finish your question, moving forward and swiftly capturing your lips in his own.

you made a noise of surprise before shutting your eyes, reaching for his shirt to pull him on top of you. eunseok was gentle as ever with you, laying you down on the bed slowly. hovering over you, he let his tongue run across your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth further open so he could taste more of you.

you sighed out in satisfaction as you felt his warm tongue explore your mouth. you don't know how long you'd been waiting for this moment. running your hands along the blades of his shoulders, you pressed them into his back, hugging him close as if he might disappear.

entangling his legs with yours, breathing the same air as you, eunseok wanted to capture this moment and lock it in his memory forever. he decided instead to let you know how he felt through his lips and hands, easing his fingers through your hair and sucking your bottom lip.

as he pulled away and the two of you watched the string of saliva connecting your lips, you wondered how you managed to bottle up your feelings for the boy above you for as long as you did.

twisting the hem of your shirt, eunseok looked into your eyes with a hooded gaze, drunk off of you.

"can i?"

[...]

opening your eyes slowly, you registered your surroundings. you were snuggled in bed, wrapped in your comforter.

as you mind flashed with the memories of the bar last night, you shot up in bed.

"morning." you screamed at the greeting, turning to see eunseok laying next to you in your bed, scrolling through his phone lazily.

"what are you-" you question was interrupted by a loud noise from the boy's stomach.

"ugh, i'm so hungry, lemme go pee and let's get something to eat, yeah?" eunseok fought to hide his laugh as he watched you scratch the back of neck in confusion.

[...]

you stared at eunseok intensely as he ate his burger and fries like a starved man. you and your best friend were seated in nearby diner. you wished you knew what eunseok was thinking; he hadn't brought up the events of the night before and you were starting to think they didn't even happen. not to mention your memory was pretty foggy following eunseok helping you to your room anyways.

you hoped nothing happened past the two of you making out; you'd really want to remember sleeping with eunseok if you did. looking up at eunseok nonchalantly sipping on his coke, your patience ran out.

"we didn't sleep together, right?" eunseok swallowed his drink slowly, letting your question hang in the air for the moment before answering.

"what do you remember?" he inquired and you exhaled shallowly.

"kissing. and you took off my shirt i think." the boy in front of you smiled. he was secretly very happy you remembered the night before. he'd be a little bothered if he was the only one who remembered your first kiss together.

"yeah, you passed out like right after that." he chuckled, watching your face turn bright red. chewing your bottom lip, you turned your focus back to your food. eunseok smiled softly at you. he thought you were too cute for your own good.

[...]

walking back to your apartment, you turned to eunseok.

"you never told me if you liked me." eunseok stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you in disbeilef.

"the making out wasn't enough of an answer for you?" he laughed as you smacked his arm, hoping no one passing by heard eunseok's crass answer.

"song eunseok!" smiling like you were the only person in the world, eunseok grabbed your hand and laced his fingers with yours.

"y/n, i like you too. will you go out with me?" swinging your arms, he pouted at you, waiting for answer.

"ugh, you're so corny." snatching your hand out of his grasp, you jokingly walked away from the boy, giggling.

"hey! you're the one with a crush on me!" he chased after you, laughing as he wrapped his arms around you and locked you in his grasp. turning in his arms to face him, you met his brown eyes and smiled prettily.

"i'd love to go out with you."

[bonus — the day eunseok "rejected" you]

"y/n.... she's nice and i like her. she's not even close to my type, though."

eunseok's words hung in the air as he searched for the right way to express his thoughts. just hearing your name made his cheeks flush pink. balancing his chin in his hand, he continued.

"somehow though, she seems prettier every time i see her." this earned a loud cheer from the two boys.

"eunseok hyung, you really surprised me." seunghan laughed at the eunseok's dopey smile.

"could you guys please keep it a secret for me?"

...

taglist: @shnnzsworld @beomgyusonlywife @pompompush @forrds @yoursyuno @snowyseungs @dreamiestay @taeraeverse

[lunarw0rks]

Hiiii, saw that ur reqs r open and I'm (desperately) asking for a Soap oneshot <33 U can do whatever u want, just rlly asking for fluff with him pLEASE

Skinny Love // Drabble

Summary: Your best friend Soap confesses, reciprocating feelings you were convinced he didn't have for you. Warning(s): bsf!soap, friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff, gn!reader, no use of y/n Word Count: 1k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ SOAP MASTERLIST // have a request? ˖⁺‧₊˚ ask box / ao3 ver. ˚₊‧⁺˖

After nearly a year of friendship, things had changed.

You began to see him differently, like an object of your attraction you had to have.

It was almost unbelievable, considering the rocky start you two had in the beginning. He was a friend of a friend, completely plastered and obnoxious the night you met him. To add to it, he spilled his bear all over you, which was the final straw that evening.

In hindsight; it couldn’t have worked out any better. If it weren’t for that clumsy happening, you wouldn’t have reached out to him to apologize for snapping. Without that, you wouldn’t have conversed with him when he was sober, no longer a drunken prick. When you heard his pleas for forgiveness, how genuine they were, you quickly realized you two really had gotten off on the wrong foot.

Several months later, the unfortunate first impression was nothing more than a memory.

————— ୨୧ —————

Your laughter echoed through the summer air; warm and stuffy despite the setting sun. ❝She was totally flirting with you, Johnny!❞ You matched his speed, a brisk jog as he distanced himself from the ice cream shop.

The cashier was flirting with him, it was obvious, given the fact that she made little attempt to conceal it. In all fairness, you two were of similar age and out for ice cream together — you mirrored that of a couple. Though, Soap had gone quiet when pursued, eyes either on you or the menu, for whatever reason.

❝Aye, whatever you say, love.❞ He shovels some rocky road into his mouth to keep himself quiet, sitting beside you on the park bench. For the first time that night, he was looking at anything else but you. His hands had gone clammy, his face flushed and heated, all a foreign feeling to him. He was rarely nervous when making a move. But you weren’t someone eyeing him across from a pub, you were a dear friend — one he wanted to be more with.

Soap could let you think it was his own stubbornness preventing him from accepting advances or indulging in hookup culture, but it wasn’t. He only had eyes for you, literally and figuratively. Typically he read like a book, yet you were entirely clueless or pretending to be. You had no clue he was head over heels, you were too stuck in your own head. Confiding in you about his feelings wasn’t a question of him fearing rejection, it was more of a concern about causing you to distance yourself from him. That nearly a year of friendship would fizzle away until it was nothing.

You savored the taste of your own gelato — the one he ordered for you because he already knew your favorite. ❝You’re so lucky to have me, Johnny.❞ Your teases were chewing at him, piece by piece. It wouldn’t be long before he spilled his guts, not long at all.

Soap made his best attempt at playing it cool, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. ❝Would be lost without you, that’s for sure…❞ He murmured, which only made your stomach churn. Has your unintentional pining made him uncomfortable? He was uncharacteristically quiet right now and refused to look you in the eyes. On your end, it looked as if he loathed your existence, yet to him, it was merely nerves feasting on his confidence.

Playful flirting was inevitable with him, it was in his nature. There was a line that was never crossed, however. Tonight, it would be, though. Either that or his confession would do irreparable damage to a close friendship.

❝What is it? I was only kidding, Johnny, you know that.❞ You set the sundae down on the bench beside you, full attention on your suddenly distant best friend.

Soap’s head snapped back to you when he heard your concern, ❝I’m not mad at you.❞ It sounded like the lie of a century, but it wasn’t. This was his fault for being so nervous, for walking on eggshells around you.

You scoffed at his words, eyes lit up in a baffled manner. He had such distaste written on his face like he had seen a ghost. By now, your head was spinning with worst-case scenarios. ❝What is it, then? Is there something on my face? Or… are you trying to get rid of me? If you don’t want to be around me, you should just say it—❞

❝I’m in love with you.❞ His blunt statement overlapped with your expelling racing thoughts.

For a few seconds, your clueless rambling continued, until you froze when you finally processed his words. ❝What?❞ There was no chance you misheard him, not when he had interrupted you with such firmness. Him, in love with you? Meaning, he reciprocates the anguish of suppressing one's feelings for weeks? Now you were just frustrated. This whole time you had been dancing around the subject, purposefully attempting to set him up with dates, he had felt the same.

❝Johnny, you don’t mean that.❞ You wanted him to mean it, but you had already scrambled to sway his desires. Surely it was a rash statement made to shut you up, it had to be. But Soap was never a man with concealed motives.

In a sudden advance, his hands cupped your face, ❝when have I ever said somethin’ I didn’t mean, hm?❞ He asked with lips straightened into a line. He had a point, and he knew it. There weren’t any other excuses you could find to convince him to not cross that imaginary line in the sand.

You sighed heavily when you realized fighting your feelings wasn’t worth it. ❝You haven’t.❞

When his words were received with a slight crack in your worries, he eased up on his grip, though his hands remained on either side of your face. Soap leaned a bit closer, his heated sugary breath on your mouth.

His thumbs caressed your skin, both sets of eyes unblinking and yearning for the inevitable.

❝Now, are you goin’ to shut your mouth and let me kiss ye? Or do I have to do all the work?❞

[hexesandroses]

Sorry if I sound corny but number 77 with Dottore for the drabble list??

Nothing corny about it! :) this turned out way longer than I anticipated, but I hope it's to your liking <3

drabble list

77. There is nothing wrong with you

You were exhausted.

The days blended into one as you spent hours upon hours at your desk, eyes glued to the ample paperwork that needed to be dealt with. Your rationality told you that you were going about this the wrong way; skipping meals and losing sleep over work never did you good, and though the stars had shown you the consequences of those actions numerous times, you never learned your lesson.

It became increasingly difficult to focus. Your mind demanded rest but you refused to oblige. Your calloused fingers hurt from holding a pen for so long; your thoughts were in disarray, mind clouded by exhaustion; your body felt weaker than ever before and sitting upright was a challenge in and of itself.

You couldn't stop, though. There were so many things that demanded your attention, so many deadlines that worsened your anxieties. If you couldn't finish all your tasks in time, then what were you good for?

Still, you wanted rest so badly. When was the last time you'd slept well? When did you last play chess with Zandik, just as you used to do every day? You ached with a desperate desire for tranquility but even that was overtaken by your crippling fear of failure.

All of which Zandik noticed. He made an attempt at pulling you away from your desk one night: with a hand placed on your shoulder, he said, "you can't go on like this any longer. Come to bed."

And you'd rejected him, swatted his hand away and told him not to distract you - he didn't bother you again after that.

Until he found you hunched over your journal deep into the night. Your mind didn't register his voice until he came to stand right next to you.

Zandik called your name softly, "you can't do this to yourself."

"I'm just working."

"Work can wait. When was the last time you slept?"

Your fingers gripped the pen tighter. It hurt so badly.

"Yesterday, I think."

You wondered if he was disappointed in you. Were you too slow, had you failed to meet his expectations?

Zandik caressed your hair with his ungloved hand and you nearly recoiled at the feeling of it; you couldn't remember the last time you bathed. You must have looked dreadful - a shell of a human being, beyond unrecognizable.

"Your body needs rest," he murmured, "this has gotten out of control. Your health, both physical and mental, will be beyond saving if you continue at this rate."

You gritted your teeth. "I feel fine. I'll be done soon, anyway."

"How soon?"

"Soon. In a few hours- or days, it doesn't matter. Soon."

Zandik exhaled softly. He was disappointed - you knew it. You had failed him and proven yourself to be unworthy of all attention - a failure of a partner, of a human being.

"I don't recall the last time I saw you eat a proper meal," he broke you out of your thoughts. You didn't dare to look at him; your shame was far too great. "Look at yourself. You haven't left this study in so long; Columbina asks me about you every day."

"She'll manage without me."

"And I?"

The question made you droop your head. Zandik never spoke of his affection for you aloud - you could see all of it in his actions: his devotion, care, desire. The innocent implication of his words evoked guilt, sadness, among so many other complicated feelings that you couldn't put a name to.

"I really, really need to finish this, Zandik-"

"I miss you," he said, so easily that it made your heart ache with longing. You'd missed him, too; spending your days without feeling his touch, hearing his never-ending rants about whatever research he was engrossed in - you wilted without Zandik near.

You were hesitant to look at him. Something told you that you would cave and abandon your work if you did.

"This needs to be dealt with, Zandik. If I don't do it now, I'll never... I have to."

Or I'll feel like a failure. The words lay on the tip of your tongue but you were careful not to voice them.

Zandik's hand moved down to the nape of your neck. Had you been any weaker, you would have leaned against him, given up on your futile efforts to prove your worth to... him? Yourself?

"You're overworking yourself," Zandik whispered, "even I know not to take things so far and you have seen how I can get when something catches my interest."

You huffed bitterly, turning your head in the opposite direction lest he catch sight of the tears that welled in your eyes. "How do you not understand? I'm not overworking myself - I've barely managed to get anything done today. No matter what I try, I just can't do it. I have to, I know I have to, but I can't and it's ruining everything."

Frustration bubbled in your chest. Archons, you were so tired. The temptation to give up was strong, but how would you face yourself? Zandik? How could you rest after resigning yourself to failure?

"You need a break," Zandik murmured, his tone laced with sympathy, "take the day off tomorrow, and I will help you with whatever else is left."

"I can't."

"Why?"

The words came out shakily, "I'll feel wrong. I already do."

Tears spilled from your eyes before you could stop them; it was too much. You felt exhausted, burdened by the weight of your own pressure, and continuing to pretend that it didn't bother you felt impossible. Your dignity was all but crushed in the palm of your hand as Zandik crouched and pried your hands from your face.

Everything hurt so badly: your head, neck, hands, every part of your body ached and begged for relief. Your heart filled with something heavy and you lacked the tools to get rid of it. When did this strange feeling take root in your chest? When was the last time that you felt right?

"I don't know how to deal with it," you whined, "I've tried so hard but nothing works. I'm just wrong. I can't do it."

You could hear Zandik's breath hitch through your cries.

"Look at me," he said - a command. His hands cupped your face and beckoned you to meet his gaze. Your sight was blurry, but you could just barely make out his soft, cyan hair, a pair of ruby eyes overflowing with a wistful feeling you couldn't comprehend.

"There is nothing wrong with you."

Gingerly wiping your tears away, he continued, "I know what it is like to feel inherently terrible and to not have someone who could prove you wrong. But you have me." And why would he say that so softly? You furrowed your brows as more tears pooled in your eyes - but Zandik didn't mind. He kept wiping at your eyes as if he could quell the turmoil within your heart with just a touch. "I will show you that you are good; that you are capable, determined, worthy. You don't have to do this by yourself, my dear."

You all but softened against him. Resting your forehead against his own, you allowed Zandik to take care of you in a way that he hadn't in so long. Frustration gave way to acceptance and you exhaled shakily when he pressed his lips to your cheeks - a soothing thing.

"I will help you in any way that I can," he added, "Omega will handle my work for the time being."

"I missed you," are the only words that you could speak, and Zandik accepted them with a soft, barely noticeable smile.

"I know. I'm here. You will be alright; this, too, shall pass with time."

You found that notion to be a little more believable, now.

[sleepyghostuwu]

The Artist and the Gem (Part 2, rewrite)

Synopsis: You start brainstorming about your mysterious client's request and begin working on it. Unfortunately, that means finding a way to get your unconventional art subject to cooperate with you, whether or not he knows about it.

Notes: (Edit: I wasn't too happy with how it turned out and it was bugging me a fair bit, so I had to redo it for my own peace of mind.)

Fem! Reader POV will be used in this series as it is what I'm most comfy writing in ^^ Also it's really lengthy lmao (I got too excited writing this) so get ready-

Previously: Part 1

It has been a good number of months since you've received the mysterious client's commission.

You've been finding yourself becoming increasingly productive in both your white collar and artistic jobs, presumably from wanting to rid yourself of as much work as you could to work on Aventurine's portrait. It has gotten to the point you even managed to send out most of your commissions to your other clients, even the impatient one who had been living on your nerves for what felt like an eternity. What made you want to get his portrait done and over with so badly? That was a question you were too afraid to find answers to.

Speaking of Aventurine, you have a slight problem: while you knew how he looks like very well, you had no clue how to draw him that well. The fact that the both of you work in different departments and hence very rarely see each other made your task of observing his appearance better all the more difficult.

With all possible odds pitted against you, only two solutions remain: you could either spy on Aventurine during your lunch and tea breaks and sketch him in secret, or directly ask him to pose for you for a few minutes. Given your current ranking in the IPC, you have a slightly better chance at the former. As the clock strikes at lunchtime, you quickly grab your tablet and head for the first place you can think of: the lounge.

-------

"...Don't worry, I'll be sure to send you the updates as soon as I get them," Aventurine's carefree voice echoes like a chime as he and the other Stonehearts leave the meeting room for their break. Your breath hitches and you quickly crouch behind the nearest potted plant you spotted in the vicinity, peeking through its leaves cautiously.

"This is the worst idea I've ever thought of..." you curse under your breath as you stabilised yourself against the wall. You have passed by Aventurine during work before on several occasions, and rarely ever get to briefly speak to him about work-related matters, so seeing the man himself with your eyes was not something unfamiliar to you. However, what left you the slightest bit horrified was the next thought that entered your mind.

Aventurine is stunningly handsome.

His sandy hair, which was slightly tucked behind his left ear, flowed down his neck like sand in an hourglass, and his eyes were as vibrant as stained glass windows in the sun. The deep green and gold coattails trailing behind him reminded you of a brightly coloured bird as he strode across the hallway, always seeming like he had people to show off to in every corner.

(Y/n)! Focus! You frantically shake your thoughts out of your hand and ready your tablet. It's your only chance at this, so don't mess this up! Propping yourself against the wall as you continue crouching behind the potted plant, you whip out your stylus and begin drawing furiously.

The first few attempts you made were a little sloppy (by your standards, at least), but in a short while, you manage to fill the better half of your drawing spread with surprisingly good sketches. The fact that Aventurine was perfectly still as you drew each pose made your success feel too good to be true. As you watch Aventurine leave the vicinity with a few cups of coffee in hand, you heave a sigh of relief and stood up, propping yourself against the wall as you wait for your legs to recover from crouching on the ground for so long.

And it's still lunch hour, too! You smile to yourself as you turn to leave for the office cafe. Everything went according to plan. Surely nothing could possibly go wrong after this-

"Oh, (y/n)? I didn't expect to see you here."

A chill runs down your spine as you slowly come face-to-face with none other than Aventurine himself.

-------

"H-hello, sir," you squeak, clutching your tablet in a tight embrace as you desperately tried to hide its contents. Clearing your throat, you add, "I was just going to the lounge to...well, take a rest."

"Hmm..." Aventurine stares intently at you before checking his watch. Then, he looks up at you again and chuckles. "Really? With that tablet of yours, too?" He raises an eyebrow at the tablet in your arms. "I'm pretty sure doing extra work isn't something a person would be doing to take a break."

Damn, he's catching onto me. Embarrassment and fear kicking in, you avert your eyes from his. Aventurine tilts his head to the side in feigned curiosity. "What are you doing here anyway? Are you...hiding something from me?" His eyes shift to the tablet in your hands.

"No..." You cling to your tablet tighter as the voices in your head scream for you to run before he does the last thing you want him to do. However, Aventurine swiftly swipes the tablet (which, much to your dismay, was still switched on) from your hands before you can physically react.

"Well, well, what do we have here- oh?" Aventurine's smirk gives way to a more surprised expression as he gapes at the canvas of digital sketches of him. "Oh my. Is that- is that me?"

You feel the heat rising in your cheeks as your worst possible outcome unfolds before you. Frantically, you attempt to snatch your tablet back, only to have your hands flail in vain as he kept moving it out of reach, only relenting and returns the tablet to you after a good few minutes.

"Oh, relax, (y/n). I didn't mean anything negative by that. Those sketches of yours are quite majestic, really. I'm just...pleasantly surprised, hehehe~ Though, I have to ask..." He leans slightly closer to you, his iconic sly grin now back on his face.

"What exactly are they for?"

[luxe-pauvre]

Life has gotten very chaotic incredibly quickly. It has become increasingly difficult to parse anything from the static. People started coping with this lack of meaning through a kind of ironic detachment (which is very much still around), but it has matured into a pervasive cultural apathy, a permeating numbness. This isn’t nihilism per se. (Even nihilists have a sincere belief system; they just sincerely believe that life is meaningless.) What we’re dealing with is worse than nihilism. People are checking out of life in their 20s and 30s without reaching any profound conclusions about the point of it all. “People are so worn down,” my friend told me on a recent phone call. She’s right: there’s a real lack of palpable ambition and vitality these days, a stunning lack of life force in the world. Another friend told me that “this has been going on for so long that people wouldn’t know meaning if it walked up and bit them in the ass.” It’s true—so many of the things that once gave the average person’s life real meaning are now treated with sarcasm and contempt: college is a waste of money, work is a waste of your life, getting married is just a piece of paper, having kids is a nightmare, family is a burden, hobbies are merely quaint, earnestly expressing yourself is cringe, leaving the house is exhausting, religion is for idiots, the list goes on. If you allow yourself to internalize this perspective, eventually everything becomes a dumb joke.

Catherine Shannon, Everyone is numbing out

[bradshawsbaby]

pretty please can I request

carefully trying to turn the lamp on the nightstand off without letting go of their partner in their arms

for mr and mrs bradshaw?

Sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this! Life has been kind of crazy lately 😵‍💫

The first trimester of your pregnancy had been kicking your butt like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Between the fatigue and the almost constant nausea, you spent most days curled up on the couch in your comfiest pair of sweatpants, alternating between sipping on ginger ale and nibbling on dry crackers. In between, you’d check the clock to count down how much longer it would be until Bradley was home from work.

Having your husband home didn’t make your nausea or your tiredness disappear, but it always made you feel better to have him there to support you, especially as your first trimester progressed and it became increasingly difficult to keep anything down.

As your morning sickness—or rather, morning, noon, and night sickness—worsened, it became harder and harder for you to get a good night’s sleep. Which meant that it also became harder and harder for Bradley to get a good night’s sleep.

“You don’t have to stay awake with me,” you told him miserably as he sat on the bathroom floor with you, rubbing your back for the fourth night in a row. It was after two in the morning, and he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep with all your restlessness. “You have to be up in a few hours, honey. Go back to bed.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Bradley scoffed, as if the notion itself defied all logic and reason. “Yeah, right. I’m staying right here, as long as you need me,” he assured you, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.

About thirty minutes later, after helping you to your feet and holding your hair back as you rinsed your mouth out with mouthwash, Bradley led you back to bed, one strong arm wrapped around your waist so that you could lean against his side.

Instead of turning his lamp off once the two of you had climbed under the covers, your husband simply turned to you, silently taking you into his arms and gazing down at you.

“What?” you asked curiously, raising an eyebrow as you gazed back at him, your body feeling exhausted beyond belief in spite of its refusal to go to sleep.

“Nothing,” Bradley grinned, shaking his head. “I just think you’re amazing is all,” he told you, tucking you closer against his side and kissing the top of your head.

“You’re just saying that,” you giggled softly, your cheeks growing warm at his praise.

“I would never,” Bradley gasped, feigning offense, which made you giggle all the more. He smiled, glad he had accomplished his goal of making you laugh and taking your mind off things, if only for a moment.

Yawning softly, your eyes began to droop as you rested your head against his shoulder. When Bradley began to hum softly, a song you couldn’t quite place the name of, you gently drifted off, falling into your first peaceful sleep in days.

Bradley’s voice tapered off as he realized that you had fallen asleep. Exhausted himself, he was more than ready to close his eyes and grab a few hours of rest before his alarm went off. But he wasn’t willing to let you go and risk waking you up by turning to shut his lamp off. So instead, he continued to hold you, one arm wrapped securely around you in a gentle cocoon, while his other arm ever so slowly reached towards his bedside table.

Keeping his eyes fixed on your face, Bradley froze when he saw you stir slightly, his heart leaping into his throat. Only once you had stilled did his arm continue towards its destination, his fingers blindly reaching for the light switch. It took a couple fumbling attempts, his breath held tightly to keep from disturbing you, but finally the bedroom was plunged into darkness and he found himself breathing easier.

Wrapping both arms around you once more, Bradley snuggled up under the covers and buried his face in your neck, instantly soothed and comforted by the cozy and familiar scent of your skin.

It was the best night’s sleep either of you had had in weeks.

cozy and content prompts

[dubiouslyacquiredmilkteeth]

The intro I wrote for my very first VTM campaign

word count: 837

The year is 2035, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell fiction from reality.

Fact is falling to the rise of misinformation, exasperated by the muddying of artificial intelligence and flat-out lies fed by news websites and spilling from the mouths of politicians. It’s near impossible to tell if any image or video is real, now that they can all be generated with a few sentences of prompting, the visages so life-like that a new study of determining the validity is quickly becoming a highly lucrative career path, especially now that a recent supreme court ruling has determined that all video and photographic evidence must be analyzed by a professional before it can be submitted in a court of law. Colleges and trade schools clamor to create programs of study, since the utter lack of practitioners has essentially brought the entire American judicial system to a grinding halt - trials are delayed indefinitely as defense lawyers and prosecutors alike struggle to find someone to validify evidence.

Which is why no one knows what, exactly, to make of it when videos of apparent vampires begin to appear online.

Of course, these videos of throats ripped out with teeth in shady parking complexes, of women in glittering dresses moving at inhuman speeds, of figures with twisted faces summoning masses of rats or crows or cats, are quickly written off as some sort of ARG or prank. Hobbyist physical media analysts claim en masse that the videos are legit, unedited and ungenerated, but who would really believe that? They must be in on the joke. No real professionals have weighed in on the matter, although the government puts out numerous statements claiming that the videos have been analyzed and determined to be fake (but they never disclose the names of the people who have allegedly done the analyzing, despite the fact that the few respected analysts are well-known enough to practically count as celebrities, given the fact that the country relies upon them so heavily).

And besides, most of the videos come from San Antonio, a city known for its vampire cults, groups of teenagers running around the streets at night, engaging in blood play and calling themselves creatures of the night. At worst, those videos must just be kids messing around, a new generation of amateur filmmakers playing with special effects and AI video tools. And if there are reports of attacks, people stumbling into hospitals with twin pricks on the neck suffering from major blood loss, reporting that they were pinned down and force-feed the blood of their attacker, it was only someone taking the bit too far. Someone off their Abilify who read too much Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer.

No one takes it very seriously until the CDC quarantines an entire 200 square mile stretch of the city, nearly half of it, erecting 400 foot walls of concrete nearly overnight, pulling thousands of officers from border patrol to stand guard at this new barrier. The electricity was cut to the quarantined zone, devices set up to disrupt the connection between cell phones and satellites, and what little communication has gotten out has been over staticky radio frequencies, a nearly obsolete technology.

Social media accounts pop up overnight on places like X and Twitch, 24/7 feeds of radio output picked up by the seldom few who still own traditional radios and broadcasted for the world to hear, screenshots of the occasional text message allegedly sent from hot spots where satellite connection is still, unreliably, available. The occasional grainy video somehow smuggled out of the city.

The information is incomplete and contradictory, slippery at best and outright outrageous at worst. But there’s generally a consensus: whatever is going on behind those walls seems to be some sort of outbreak of vampirism. Or at least something that looks like it - fangs and hunger for blood, aversion to sunlight and sharp lengths of wood (although, as many on the internet are quick to point out, a stake to the heart would kill anyone, undead or otherwise).

The CDC calls San Antonio a quarantine zone, although they are achingly unforthcoming with what exactly it is that they’ve contained within the walls. People online who think themselves comedians call it a Dead Zone.

All of this is why, when you’re snatched off the street in Houston, a mere 200 miles from the Dead Zone, thrust into an unmarked van after sundown, pinned down to the plastic floor and bit by a cold, dead mouth, razor sharp canines cutting into soft flesh like a serrated blade, you understand to some extent what’s happening to you. When fingers dig into the tender point where your jaw meets your skull hard enough to bruise, forcing your lips apart, and cold, syrupy liquid tasting of iron and rot drizzles into your mouth, when you feel as your heartbeat slows and eventually stops, you understand suddenly, horribly, that every video you saw, every rumor you heard, was true.

Vampires exist, and now you’re one of them.

[mushyposts]

I already put this on ao3 in a comment but you made me cry so you have to see it twice now. I know this entire story is Zuko-centric but I literally can't stop thinking about what this au means for Sokka.

Ok I just have to say I felt so heartbroken for Sokka here. All I could think about was how all of a sudden there's a boy in the place he's supposed to be. HE should be travelling with the men, HE should've been with them for the last three years, HE should be trusted enough with all this important stuff he should know if he is the next chief/acting chief.

He is being told this new kid has seen and done things the most skilled of warriors couldn't have done, like he is this almost untouchable standard Sokka can't reach. Then to be told he's taken Sokka's place in the tribe as Hakoda's and Batos' adopted child, teaching him how to be a man over the three years Sokka didn't even know his father, never a letter, never knowing when they would come home. Then being told by that same kid that he was only playing war. not to mention the piercings and jewellery he's adorned with.

Sokka has been the leader of the remnants of the Southern Water Tribe for three years, and due to the strict gender divides, had no one to teach him how to lead in the way a chief would. He has been the one hunting, defending, in charge of the future of their civilisation, the education of the children, which is really important in their culture. the memories of his father would be so twisted to the memories Hadoka has of Sokka. Sokka, in the months before he left, lost his mother, protecting his little sister. he then saw his father fall deep into depression, becoming very detached, and from what is described, angry and violent, not towards him, but that his still scary behaviour to witness. Then, his father left, and he was told he couldn't come, and that he was in charge of the village. Even though it was probably to boost his ego at the time more than anything, the impact on Sokka in that moment, combined into quite literally what his job becoming.

Just imagine when he finds out the secrets Zuko's hiding and how his father and Bato knew and didn't tell him. Sokka has struggled with feeling like he isn't important, as a non-bender and his relations with his sister, her being a prodigy + a bender, and his father, always feeling like he wasn't enough for his dad, not good enough, not smart enough, not needed, but the Zuko's good enough, Hakoda loves him.

Zuko, who has had an incredibly traumatic and difficult childhood, the last three years of his life is where he has found and made a spot for himself in a positive community that loves him and supports him, Sokka has become increasingly more and more isolated, and his sense of self has changed even more dramatically in the last few weeks.

Sorry for the long rant, but I could just feel Sokka's fears and insecurities screaming at me throughout the chapter. Love this work though, just cried for Sokka <3

HIII OH YOU SO GET IT!! OH YOU SOOOO GET IT!! The fic is for SURE Zuko-centric, but I have been intentionally layering on the potential for his arc to align with Sokka's in completely the opposing way. Zuko has everything Sokka wants, he has a space with the crew, the warriors. he spent the last three years with his father and Bato, bonding, developing his identity as a person alongside the tribe, welcomed in, he has gotten to be everything that Sokka has always wanted. Meanwhile, Sokka has everything that Zuko wants. Sokka was home, somewhere safe with people who cared for him and looked up to him, with his sister, away from his parents and in a position where he was in charge of his own life. Its such a twisted, complex situation where the two crave, desperately, what the other has without thinking about the context. Without thinking of what got the other to the point of having what they wanted, both in turn. IM SOOO happy to see someone talking about Sokka ohhhughhh im so fucking happy. I think a lot of people have focused on Sokka's initial attitude towards Zuko, without thinking about every single thing you've brought up in this beautifully constructed comment, of which I am really excited to eventually flesh out when I am back from hiatus. Sokka, more than anything, wants to be a warrior alongside his father. For Zuko, he doesn't think Sokka fully understands the gravity of what that would look like, especially after having experienced such a heavy loss as he had recently. (RIP king im sorry) but for Sokka, he see's a replacement. he doesnt know the nuances, not for lack of intelligence but he just literally hasnt been told and although he is owed explanation he isn't owed Zuko's story in its full, of what led Hakoda and Bato to the decision of keeping him on board. I firmly believe if Zuko had have been older, or had have been a child from any other nation, Hakoda and Bato would have not kept him. I actually go over this a lot in the early chapters where they're deciding wtf to do. It genuinely ended up being a problem of "well. No matter where we put him he's gonna get killed. How fucked up is that, safest place for this kid is LITERALLY on a warship of the enemy. great." I also think acknowledging the fact that Zuko HAS had a lot of support and comfort in the last three years whereas Sokka has not is a super important point to be made! Despite the current circumstances, and the ones that led Zuko to being in the position he is/was, Zuko did have support which Sokka lacked. TBH, if I hadve had more wiggle room and decided to fuck with canon more then I already had, I would have left a good amount of the warriors in the SWT, unlike in canon. Or had Hakoda go back to leave soldiers there when he realised they were going to be gone for longer then what I am assuming was initially planned. However I was more then aware that would SIGNIFICANTLY change the circumstances of Sokka's experiences and how it aligns with Zuko's, in canon and in the fic, so i chose against it. This is such a sporadic messy reply I am just so happy to get a comment picking up on all the stone I've been laying for a big discussion on the details of Sokka's own trauma and how its going to clash with Zuko's.

All this to say, Sokka will absolutely be getting his turn to hash out everything you've said here and I can promise you no stone will be left unturned when it comes to his trauma and life experiences!! I think a big thing I am most excited for is having the two hash it out and realise where their lives overlap, where their feelings and experiences align and managing to acknowledge that each others traumas dont cancel each other out. Zuko's experiences do not cancel out Sokka's, and Sokka's do not cancel out Zuko's.

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Six - Sugar

W/C: 4.5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

A crybaby and the town grump walk into a bar...

A/N: idk why but this chapter was giving me so much trouble and i've been really doubting my writing and second guessing. It's more of a filler chapter but still important to the story. I'm super excited for what's to come tho!!

Masterlist

Prev | Next

Three Weeks Later

“Bambi, go home already.  Your shift ended–”  Eddie pauses to check his watch.  “-jesus, like an hour ago.  Why are you still here?” 

The floors were pristine, mopped to perfection, chairs stacked on top of the tables, and rags started in the washer.  Every glass found home on their corresponding shelves, all dried and perfectly polished for the following shift, not one imperfection among the twinkling surfaces.  The place was spotless and there you were, standing on top of the bar in order to reach the top of the light fixtures which, judging by the amount of dust on them, went neglected for some time now.  Your apron was long discarded on one of the barstools and sweat dripped from your brow, the epitome of hard work if he’d ever seen it.  The Bourbon hadn’t been this clean in years.

“I’m almost done, I swear.”  You reply quietly, clearly far more engaged in your cleaning frenzy than any conversation he was trying to coax you into.

“No, you’re done.”  Eddie marches around the bar, revealing himself just in your peripheral.  “Get outta here.”  There wasn’t an ounce of venom behind his words, however, he was without a doubt becoming increasingly annoyed.

You chance a glance down at him only to find his standard scowl etched onto his face.  Except, it wasn’t as mean spirited as you were used to and it hadn’t been for quite some time.  It was cute; the way his lip would slightly jut out and how his smile lines were so prominent, eyes drooping in irritation.  Endearing irritation that you grew accustomed to.

“I will.”  You state, feather duster swiping through a satisfying amount of dust.  “When I finish.”

“No, get down.”

Your first instinct is to obey without question.  Listen to authority.  But in the previous weeks, you’d found it easier to let loose.  Sure, Eddie was always somewhat crabby but it never intimidated you and whenever he found himself particularly pissed off, he’d banish himself to the back office which aided in releasing any tension you’d built up throughout the week.  So, it wasn’t that difficult to at least attempt some friendly banter.  Especially if you could get him to crack a smile.  It was a win in your books when he tried so hard to withhold it from you or even better, turned around completely to shield his broken composure from you.

“Don’t you have–what did you call it– ‘a shit ton of paperwork’ to do?”  You joke. 

“Ha.  Ha.  I’m serious, get down.”  He mocks, glaring up at you, a stupid little tug pulling at the corners of his mouth.  Barely noticeable, but you take note of it.

“‘M not gonna fall, if that’s what you're worried about.”  You mumble, shaking your head.

“Judging by how many times you nearly eat shit throughout the week, I’m pretty worried.”  

Pretty worried.   

Saliva caught in the back of your throat, you try to play it off like dust that had gotten trapped in your airways, clearing your throat.  Only, your body had just reacted far too quickly to his words, resulting in the failure of a simple bodily function.

“I do not…”  You crouch down, poking the end of the feather duster at his chest.  “...fall that often.”  You pout.

“Yeah?”  A tiny smile pulls at his lips.  There it is.  “That’s why I said ‘nearly’.”

If you could bottle up the look he was giving you, you would selfishly keep it all for yourself to stare at on bad days.  Such mischief and amusement lingered in his gaze.  Sparks lighting up the dark and cloudy haze he usually exhibited.  Like fireworks against a colorless sky, beautiful hues popping left and right but after all, everything is always temporary.

“I don’t ‘nearly’ fall that often either.”  You whine.

“Just get off my bar and go home.”  Eddie demands, voice warm and buttery despite his intent to kick you out.  

Staring at him expectantly, he relays the same expression to you with raised brows.  In response, you cock your head to the side, luring the word out of him.  He doesn’t quite catch on, eyes narrowing while you wait.  A smirk appears on your lips as you remain perched on top of the bar, feather duster forgotten next to you.  His eyes grow a few sizes as if to urge you to speak up.  And then he gets it.

“Please.”  It drips from his tongue like warm caramel.

His eyes relax, creases between his brows ceasing and lids becoming heavy.  Another look you would mentally take a snapshot of just to hang it on the walls of your cluttered brain.  You’d be sure to clear a spot just for it.  

“Gladly.”  You offer the same smooth tone, hopping off the bar only to lose your balance along the way.

And before you can face plant into the hard wood planks, two large hands stabilize you, holding your waist firmly until he is sure you aren't going to collapse, but not yet letting go.  If you were to set aside your cowardly tendencies, you would look up and feel his breath against your face.  And you’re sure you could probably count the faint freckles on his nose that you’d only seen briefly when almost colliding into him during a rush.  You only remain glued to the floor, both your eyes and feet.  

“Careful, Bambi.”  He scolds softly. 

“‘M sorry.”  You murmur.

“No need to be sorry.”  You timidly glance up at him.  “Just–just be more careful.”  He pleads.

You were good and ready for him to yell at you, fully prepared to recoil as he raises his voice but it never comes.  And it hadn’t since that one time with the plates but you were like a skittish animal and long before you had even known him, any conflict had you in a corner every time, eyes full of tears and lip trembling.  You could only hope you didn’t look as pathetic right now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  He begins to soothe, a certain nervousness in his voice.  Obviously you did look just as pathetic if not more.

His hands had left your waist to graze over your shoulders hesitantly, concern evident in his tone while he consoled you.  He shouldn’t have to console you for fuck’s sake.  Why were you on the verge of tears over your clumsiness?

“Sorry, sorry.  ‘M fine, I swear.”  You attempt to suck back the tears, head tilted toward the ceiling, lip tucked in between your teeth anxiously.  “J-just go do your paperwork.  I’ll be gone in a minute.”  

Just when you think–no hope that he walks away, those large hands are gently grabbing at your wrists as you use your fingers to push the tears back into the corners of your eyes.  A soft touch that for some reason, only made you want to cry more.  

“Stop apologizing.”  Eddie says, attempting to catch your gaze, finding it difficult as you begin to stare at the floor, hiding huge watery globs under your eyelashes.

“Just–let me get my things–”  You begin to voice shakily, vision blurred with tears that you resented.

“Sit down.”  He demands calmly, concern carved into his features from what you can make out through blurred vision.

“No, no, it’s okay–”

“Right here, sit.”  

Eddie directs you to a barstool, the distorted world around you becoming progressively more overwhelming by the second.  And all because you almost fell in front of your boss and he had to catch you.  It wasn’t your intention, appearing as the stupid girl who happened to be a gigantic cry baby, emotions too sensitive to the horrors of the real world.  Though, that was the reality, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.”  You whisper, a few rogue tears escaping after the good fight you put up.

At this, he releases a heavy sigh.  You can’t help but feel childish and small, your confidence devastatingly lower than before as you try to regulate your shaky breathing and wobbly lip.  You just needed a minute, one minute to ride out the wave of anxiety.  Eddie lets your umpteenth apology slide, slowly slipping into the stool next to you.

“I’m–uh–I’m gonna go home.”  Your voice is an octave too high for his liking.

“Not like this you’re not.”

You remain on the stool, embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot with stained tears.  This was hell if anyone ever asked you.  Slowly but surely revealing just how big of a wimp you were.  Sure, you’d shed a few tears when he screamed at you over the plates but he hadn’t even done anything this time.  You reacted purely on instinct and it was humbling.

“Let’s uh, let’s try this…”  Eddie starts, running a ringed hand through his bangs.  He slides a napkin in front of you before reaching for your apron on the back of his stool, stealing a pen and setting it on the napkin.  “W-write down, uh, write down your feelings?”  He says, so unsure even he couldn’t take himself seriously.

With a sniffle, you try to hide your confusion as you stare at the bland brown napkin.  Eddie groans and for a moment you think it’s because you’re not playing along but quickly dismisses the thought when he reaches for another napkin and steals a second pen from your apron.

“Um, it sounds–it sounds stupid.  It kinda is stupid.  But, um, you just write what you’re feeling?  A-and it’s supposed to…shit I dunno.  It’s supposed to help clear your head I guess?”  He explains.

You wait for him to laugh, wait for him to mock your tear stained face and absolute lack of emotional control.  You wait for the ‘why are you crying’ in the most condescending tone and the lecture as to why you had no reason to cry.  It never comes.  Instead, as you sneak a glimpse at him from the corner of your teary eye, and he starts writing. 

“So, right now, um…”  He clears his throat.  “Right now I’m feeling, uh, concerned?” 

You can tell he’s having trouble coming up with words and that this was difficult for him…feelings were difficult for him.  Something you could heavily relate to.

“Or, uh, you c-can just write…whatever…”  He trails off, clicking the pen against the counter repeatedly. 

Rather than answering, you clumsily pick up the blue pen, dropping it once with a trembling hand before fully grasping it.  Then you begin writing as he instructed.  If he made fun of you for what you were writing down, so be it.  You’d already embarrassed yourself enough.

You expected him to chime in by now, scoffing at what you had written down.  But when you glanced over, he was doodling on his napkin, something that appeared to be a dragon.  Minding his own business.  Awkwardly, you set the pen back on the counter, causing him to peek over at you.

“It helped.”  You mumble.  “A little.”

“Good.”  He replies, tapping his pen against the counter.  “So, uh my therapist usually has me share once I write everything down–or at least share the main points.  You don’t–you don’t have to but that’s just…that’s what we do.”  

Eddie expects you to crumple up the napkin and throw it out.  Then you would leave and think to yourself how ridiculous he is.  He didn’t know how to help people–hell, he didn’t even know how to help himself most of the time.  What he doesn’t expect is for you to shyly slide the napkin in front of him.  Averting his eyes, he’s unsure if he actually has permission to read but when you nod your head ever so slightly, he still has trouble looking down at what you had scribbled out.  It felt like he was peeking into your brain, something he felt he wasn’t worthy of.

Humiliated

Stupid

Exhausted

Anxious

Small

Burden

Crybaby

Lonely

So many words for such a small increment of time that you had been scrawling away on that napkin.  So many words that held such heaviness.

“Wow.”  Is all that he says upon his first glance over.

Anxiously, you suck in a breath, attempting to snatch the napkin back in regret only to fail as Eddie slides it out of your reach.  

“It’s stupid, I-I’m gonna go…”  You begin, hopping off of your stool.

“It’s not stupid–”

Then you were gone, a gust of wind practically slapping him in the face.  He couldn’t find it in himself to complain, only troubled by the inner workings of your mind.  It was all too familiar and he was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t the only one cursed with a diseased mind.  Selfishly, he found comfort in that.  

–

There’s only one thing worse than a shitty car.  Two shitty cars.  Specifically a shitty car and a shitty truck.  Both unreliable, both sputtering every time Eddie put the key in the ignition.  Grandpa Roy’s ‘Ol Reliable four-door sedan wasn’t living up to its name and was on the decline by the looks of it.  It had been for some time, though he was alway able to find a temporary fix and keep it running.  Today he had no such luck.

The truck, Sugar, was arguably in much better shape.  She was well-loved, red paint chipping after years of use and a cracked rear window.  The engine had its moments but she was still better off than ‘Ol Reliable.  

“C’mon, Sugar.  Don’t be like that.”  Eddie mutters, turning the key in the ignition a few times more, only to be met with failure.  “Fuck.”  He whispers, hopping out from the driver’s side to prop the hood open, large hands splayed out along the sides as he prepares for battle.

With a sigh, he ties his hair back and discards his leather jacket on the ground in exasperation, even going as far as to give it a small kick away from his work space.  A wooden work bench was strategically placed on the porch under the awning, leaving no issue for when winter came around so that he had easy access to his tools even in the most dreadful of snows.  Snow hadn’t kissed the ground quite yet but the further into October it got, the more crisp the air became, a subtle announcement for what was to come.

A deep, resentful groan leaves Eddie’s chest as he trudged up the steps to the porch, lips all perfectly pouted while he reluctantly pulls each of his large rings off only to drop them in a cup he’d taken from a diner years ago when he made the move to Knife’s Edge.  An already greased up rag was snatched from the worktop and tucked snugly into his back pocket.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

He counts to himself under his breath as he collects the necessary tools.  It wasn’t like he had to be at the bar yet, though he would’ve liked to stop by the store to stock up on cigarettes and see if he could find any of those cocktail cherries on sale.  He wanted to save where he could.  Every cent mattered.  Then he was more than likely going to sulk in self pity while trying to figure out how to summon money from the sky.  Maybe indulge in a beer in his office.  He couldn’t afford to comp beers for himself like that but he could dream.  After that maybe he’d have a good cry before the chaos ensued again.  

Those plans went out the window when Sugar decided to test his patience.  Perhaps he should be grateful to his unfaithful truck for attempting to lure him out of the isolation he planned to encase himself in.  It was one thing to isolate yourself at home, it was another to trap yourself at your place of work hours before it actually opened and beat yourself up over every little thing and question where it all went wrong.  

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.”  He reiterates to himself, tossing a wrench in his hand as he makes his way back to Sugar.  “Go easy on me.”  He begs.

The pumpkins you had been angling perfectly on your porch were suddenly so miserably uninteresting; how could they not be when such an erotic site was placed right in front of your prying eyes?  Regretfully, your wet dream came to life.  Except, you played no part in it and Eddie paid no mind to you.  Not that he ever would.  And even if he did, you’d made it clear that you were a nutcase.  

You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his arms flexed under his short sleeves and how he grunted while tugging at something under the hood of his truck.  Drool could have been dripping from your chin and you wouldn’t notice, too hypnotized by his every movement.  He had opted to wear some black converse today rather than his standard black combat boots.  It was cute, you couldn’t lie, the small change made you giddy.  And the way his shirt was riding up as he stretched himself over the engine felt like a tease.  A peek at what you had once gotten a glance of while wasted but didn’t get to fully appreciate as your sober self.  

God, you could recall the blurry image of him momentarily pulling his puke stained shirt off cautiously, revealing his lean figure.  It was practically pixelated in your mind.  As you reminisce on what your drunk self had taken for granted, reality feels just as distorted when Eddie’s eyes land on yours.  Huge doe eyes, almost cartoon-like catching your attention as if a moth to a flame.  You want to look away, you beg of yourself to look away but your inner voice is muffled; almost as though you were under an enchantment.

And like a siren call, his voice reaches you.  You fear that you may be all too willing to drown just to hear it again.

“Will you hold this for me?”  He shouts, almost desperately.  Almost.

Your eyes widen, hands still resting atop a perfectly orange pumpkin while you sit pretty on your porch step.  An Autumn dream.  Suddenly, Eddie wishes he would’ve kept to himself rather than requesting your assistance.  Had he thought it through, he would’ve opted to magically grow another hand.  Instead, he stands with ruddy cheeks and syrupy eyes, glazed with adoration that he was frantically attempting to wipe from his vision, shoving the feelings that were oozing out of him back into his stupid sweaty skin.

“Um…”  You reply in surprise, already crossing the border between properties, a shy stutter to your walk.  “Well I don’t really know how to…”  You trail off, suspecting that he could figure out the rest of your thoughts on his own.

Oh, how he regrets calling you over.  His clammy hand clutches the wrench, providing no aid in his attempt to calm his nerves.  

“You don’t…you don’t have to, uh…”  He appears as if he’s battling his own thoughts, gaze casted toward the ground as his eyes dart left and right.  “Can you just hold this?”  He finally gets out, pointing to a part of the engine.  “Sugar won’t start and I swear I can have her running again but it’d be a hell lot easier if you could just hold this real quick.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.”  He confirms.  “Oh!”  Realization hits him.  “Yeah, Sugar.  My truck.”  

“Okay…”  You whisper, unsure.

You could almost forget the mortifying incident from the early hours of 3:00 AM as you took in his wet chocolate coated eyes, the light Fall breeze seeming to affect him.  His lashes clumped together like art and his nose was tinted the perfect shade of rose, those faint freckles dotted along the bridge like little constellations.

“Just, right here.”  He instructs, turning his attention back to Sugar.  

Following his lead, you adjust your hand where it's needed, an uncomfortable, greasy residue coating your fingers as he works.  From this angle, the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his profile, flyaway curls highlighted in the light like a halo and nose endearingly round at the tip with lips tucked into his teeth as he concentrates.  And then, his tongue pokes out, an adoring sight that only makes you yearn to reach out and graze your fingertips over the stubble threatening to emerge from his cheek.

“Thought you’d name it something more…tough.”  

Your meek voice earns a glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in that cute way that everyone always recognized as harsh and cold-hearted.

“What?”  The way his eyes crinkle at the corners paired with his confused expression only give you more reason to let your stare linger a little bit longer, a bold move on your part.

“Um, Sugar–”

“Oh, Sugar.”  

Simultaneously, you refer to his truck, interrupting each other while his elbow grazes your arm as he tightens a bolt.

“Uh, well…she’s, uh, the only girl in my life.”  He jokes, quietly chuckling.  “And, she’s not exactly brand new so I’ve gotta treat ‘er nice.”

“And…she can hear you?”  You question, attempting to hide your oncoming grin.

This time, he only glares at you over his shoulder.  There’s a comfort in the way his eyes seem to swallow you whole.  

“Okay, okay, ha, ha.  I know, she’s a truck–”

“And you keep calling it a ‘she’.”

Eddie pulls back, stepping away from the engine, prompting you to do the same as you stare up at him, a smidge afraid that you might have actually offended him.  A few rebellious curls frame his face, creating the vision of a princely man who in reality, was nothing of the sort.  Not in the sense that he wasn’t gentlemanly, only in the sense that he didn’t care what others thought.

“What?  You never heard of people calling their car a ‘she’ before?”  He asks, offense barely evident in his tone.  More than anything, he appears to be amused by your observation.

“No, I have.  Just didn’t think you seemed like one of them.”  You remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again his eyebrows crinkle in the cutest fashion, lip curling ever so slightly as he brings a hand to his hip.  You begin to think that no one has ever looked so good covered in grease and you’d never been attracted to the smell of oil but you could make an exception if it meant you’d get to see his features this close.  Eddie was a pretty guy.  And the more his colors showed, the more entranced you became.

“I dunno, nevermind.”  You attempt to divert the conversation.

“No, no, you have to tell me.  Please enlighten me.”  He crosses his arms, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.  

“No, forget it!.”  You giggle.

Eddie can feel his shoulders relaxing at the sound.  Can feel his tension release even if just the slightest.  His eyes relax, a lazy gaze focused on you.  Everything suddenly feels so…calm.  As if his life wasn’t falling apart.  You were like some kind of drug that made him forget how shitty things were and if it only lasted a few seconds at a time, he would gladly invest in as much as he could until he overdosed.  Which to be fair, he didn’t think was possible.  

“No, what do you mean?  Say it with your chest, I dare you.”  He nods at you, eyes showcasing that same spark you’d notice every now and then.  The spark only seemed to get bigger and bigger.  One day you’d hoped to see a fire ignite, a full explosion of his personality.

Biting your lip, you look at him sheepishly, doubting yourself.  But something about his gaze eggs you on.

“You just…you’re all…big and bad.”  You mumble, eyes finding themselves glued to the ground.

“Big and bad?”  Eddie repeats.

It’s enough to have you backtracking, pathetically trying to erase your words.  Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like a goldfish.

“See, it was stupid!  I was being stupid.  Just forget–”

“Why do you keep doing that?”  He asks, genuine curiosity blended in his tone along with a dash of concern.

“Doing what?”

Your puzzled expression only makes his chest ache.  Leaves crunch under your feet as you fidget, visually nervous.  He hates that he always ends up making you uncomfortable, never able to get a grip though maybe he can blame his highschool-self.  He never talked to girls and maybe if he had, he’d be having better luck right now.  Who’s he kidding, maybe if he just wasn’t even himself he’d be making a lot more progress.

“Calling yourself stupid.”  He mentions quietly.

No one has ever confronted your self-deprecating commentary, only ever remained silent as if to agree with you or they’d simply shift the topic.  Never has someone questioned your reasoning.    

“Oh…well I uh, I didn’t think I did it that often.”  You begin to stutter, clearly taken back.  He wishes he could rewind back to when you were bantering back and forth about his truck.  He probably would’ve found another way to fuck up the conversation, even if he could go back and give himself another chance.  

“But if this is because last night I wrote���”  You start again, only for him to keep running his big mouth.

“A bunch of bullshit?”  He states.  Like it's a fact.

Your wide eyes aren’t a good sign.

“What?”

“Yeah.  Bullshit.”  He sounds so sure of himself.

“Oh.”  

You physically seem as if you're deflating, your body closing in on itself, shoulders slumping while you take a step back.  It was the opposite of what he wanted.  But he could always count on himself to ruin a good thing.

“No, no!  I didn’t mean it like–I didn’t mean–fuckin’ christ.”  Eddie runs his clean hand down his face.  “I didn’t mean it was bullshit.  I meant that…I guess I meant that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

It’s quiet.  Eddie knows he deserves a slap across the face, if anything.  But you just continue staring at the ground, lost in thought.  Moments pass and he’s starting to feel he should dismiss himself and hide forever.  Forget fixing Sugar and just become a hermit.

“Why?”  You whisper.

He doesn’t offer an answer, only shrugs slowly.  He just kept putting nails in his own coffin.

“Don’t you…don’t you think I’m those things?  Like…like there’s something wrong with me?”

Eddie steps closer, not enough to push your boundaries but still enough for you to notice.  He tugs his lip in between his teeth, pulling at it anxiously while he thinks.  And with his arms still crossed, one finger taps at his elbow in threes.  You follow the action.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“No.”  He says simply, to which your head snaps up.

Cola colored irises are awaiting you, welcoming you in a way.  A softer expression falls over his face, his cherub-like features becoming enhanced.

“I don’t think you’re those things.”  Eddie says confidently.  “I think you’re just right.”

~end~

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