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dokries · 10 days

Text

how to get to know a dog (and their owner)

pairing: choi seungcheol (s.coups) x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, an attempt at comedy, strangers to friends to lovers

word count: 5.3k

warnings: reader seems stalkerish at the beginning; i promise it's not that deep please 😭, dog. kkuma is the main character actually/j, mentions of food, choi seungcheol is down bad, lots of giggling, let me know if i miss anything!

author note: hi! this is my first full length fic and i hope you enjoy <3 when i say cheol is down bad, i mean it. i'm not sure if this is actually funny (i have no sense of humour). also, if you’re allergic to dogs i’m so sorry.

(i had to change the headers because it turns out that the original ones were not the choi seungcheol we all love !! a mistake on my part, and pinterest because it told me it was cheol?? anyway, enjoy reading 🫶) - moon

masterlist

i. let me introduce yourself

there’s only one true love in your life.

okay, maybe your favourite food comes close but there is still just one thing at the top of your list. kkuma, the dog that your apartment complex is named after—you don’t blame the owners in doing that. she’s the only reason why you walk faster to make the trek home shorter, and honestly, who wouldn’t love her?

of course, you only watch her from afar. she…doesn’t take well to strangers, even if you have been living at kkuma apartments for almost 3 years now. it’s fine though, as long as you get to see her.

you’re walking home after another long day at work, miserable because you had been scolded earlier, and you hadn’t seen kkuma before you left in the morning, the only thing that gives you motivation that early. you smile at the security guard at the front and he opens the gate to the green building you’ve grown accustomed to.

you dejectedly walk to the lobby entrance with a sigh after scanning your surroundings discreetly, still seeing no sign of kkuma. as you start to place your foot on the first step in front of the glass doors beckoning you inside to the warmth of the lobby, you freeze.

you hear a bark. KKUMA?

you move towards the sound, and find her being taken on a walk. hiding behind some pillars placed in just the right position, you watch kkuma and…the superintendent’s son, you think. you know there’s two, and assume this is the younger one by his pouty lips and how he’s on his phone.

you hear the sound of a phone camera going off, and realize that he’s not idly scrolling on his phone like you assumed but instead taking pictures of the cute coton de tuléar. you approve of him, understanding why he feels the need to click picture after picture. with one hand on her leash, his cheeks puff out as he focuses on getting the right angles—not like kkuma could look bad in any photo.

you giggle quietly, your attention back to kkuma as she turns in a circle and looks up at the phone, posing without being told to. you see the man tense, his dark green beanie slipping down over his eyes and messing up his bangs before he adjusts it. he turns in your direction.

damn it. he must’ve heard you. thankfully, the pillar covers you completely, but you still hear his voice shake as he calls out. “is…is someone there?”

suddenly realizing you could come off as a stalker, you stay silent and try to move away quickly, covering the side of your face with your hand in case he can see anything. however as you take a step away, you almost trip over a small rock jutting out of nowhere—seriously, it was a safety hazard—and squeak, completely caught off guard.

he calls out again, this time smug. “hah, i knew someone was there! just come out so i can see you. i know what you’re here for.”

your eyes light up as you turn. does he know that you want kkuma pictures? slowly making your way away from the pillar that provided you deep moral support earlier, you look at the man sheepishly. looking at him closer, you realize that he would be cute…if he didn’t have an obnoxious smile on his face. kkuma barks, as if she knows what you're thinking, but she only moves to sit down by his legs.

“so…” he drawls out, his arms crossed and the smirk never leaving his face. he clears his throat before you both speak at the same time.

“how’d you know i like kkuma—”

“listen, i know i’m handsome—”

“what?” you say, confused by his words. you don’t even know him. what is he even talking about?

his face falls, eyebrows furrowing together. “wait, so you aren’t admiring me secretly and spying on me because you like me?”

you shake your head at his words. “i’m only here for kkuma.” you stare down at the aforementioned dog and smile. (she’s looking off in the distance and doesn’t seem to care about the conversation you and her owner are having at all.)

“oh.” the owner’s son says, squatting down to pet kkuma with his head facing away from you—he’s trying to hide the flush creeping up his neck, isn’t he?

“well…you seem to really like my kkuma a lot, huh?” he says, reaching for a topic both of you can talk about. you nod sincerely, before bending down to his level to grin at her.

“if i see her when i leave for work or come home, i know it’s guaranteed to be a good day…most of the time. she doesn’t seem to like strangers, so i’ve never tried to approach her,” you say, not noticing the guy’s eyes on you, and the way his face softens.

he turns back to kkuma, petting her soft white fur. “yeah…you’re right about her being wary of others. i’m seungcheol by the way,” he introduces himself shyly, not over the embarrassment he just went through.

ah, you were right then; he’s the youngest son of the choi family who owns the building you were outside of.

you introduce yourself before turning back to kkuma with a sigh. “i should go inside now. i still haven’t eaten dinner.”

seungcheol hums in agreement as you get up from your position on the ground, and dust off any dirt on you. as you turn back towards the lobby, he calls your name out.

you look back at him as he smiles nervously. “you know, if you want to get close to kkuma, you can just be friends with me,” he laughs slightly, scratching the back of his head.

you stare at him. what is he even talking about? you’ve just met this man and what? he wants to be friends with you?

you smile back awkwardly. “um…i’ll think about it. i’ll see you around, seungcheol.”

you turn around, not waiting for him to respond before you hurriedly walk back to the front. truth be told, you thought he was weird. besides, you have enough friends—the nice old lady next door and your friendly coworkers are enough. why add some random person into the mix?

ii. ask very important questions

seungcheol glares at his older brother, who just won their rock paper scissors match. now he has to go tell every single tenant in the building that the in-house laundry machines are broken; a bet is a bet, and he lost.

great.

it’s seven in the morning, and way too early—he stayed up playing games until three am. it doesn’t help that he’s already pouty from yesterday night when you told him that you would “think about” being his friend. why would you need to think? he’s obviously an amazing person, and someone you should become friends with, at least in his opinion. (it is very much just his opinion.)

he huffs, walking down the first hallway on his imaginary list, recalling how his dad had forbidden him from taking kkuma with him; of course he couldn’t even have his sweet girl with him.

after answering the questions of those on the two floors below you, he finally gets to your door (or at least, he thinks it’s yours—he’s not a stalker or anything…unlike you).

he knocks quietly, and you open the door to his face…and immediately close it.

“hey!” you can hear seungcheol protest from the other side but keep the door closed. what was he doing here?? did he already expect an answer from your vague reply to his question yesterday? does he have no life?

you take a deep breath and steel yourself before opening the door more hesitantly, and a smile pasted on your face. “hi, seungcheol! what’s up?”

he stares at you, his arms now crossed. “you slammed the door in my face,” he says bluntly.

you laugh awkwardly before leaning against your doorway, blocking the man’s view of your messy apartment. “i was just…surprised.” you struggle to come up with a word for the panic you felt when you saw him.

he raises an eyebrow before choosing to drop the topic—he has a lot of people to talk to, after all.

seungcheol gestures in the general direction of the laundry room downstairs. “the laundry machines are broken today, so you either have to wait until we can get them fixed—probably tomorrow—or…yeah i don’t know.”

you sigh at his nonchalant words. of course the machines are broken when you have a ton of laundry to wash. noticing your expression, cheol raises an eyebrow. “are you alright?”

you nod, before shaking your head. no, you were not alright. you didn’t have any clean clothes to wear to work tomorrow! thankfully, today was a day off—something about a reward after the extremely stressful project your team had just finished. sure, you could reuse an outfit from last week, but your dirty clothes were scrunched up in a pile all together—it would feel wrong to. instead, you ask seungcheol a question…that would soon lead you to your doom.

“do you know where the nearest coin laundry place is?”

iii. go on laundry adventures

your “doom” is really just seungcheol escorting you to the nearest laundromat.

you pick up all your clothes and put them in a hamper, not caring who sees you in your hoodie and pyjama pants. seungcheol, ever the gentleman, offers to drive you to the place he recommends, and now you’re in the parking lot, wondering how you ended up in this situation. you swore you were going to avoid this weirdo but…here you are, going on an outing with him.

you sigh, before picking up your load and getting out of his expensive car. it’s sleek and clean…and definitely not your style, considering how big it is. seungcheol notices your discomfort, and assumes it’s because of where you’re headed, and not a general lack of excitement of having to do something different than usual.

“you know, the lady who runs this place is really nice! she gives me a ton of candy, and always says i’m like her son. i’m sure she’ll like you too, if that’s what you’re worried about,” seungcheol says, wringing his hands together before opening the doors for you.

you smile at his attempt at comfort as you enter the small place, a small bell alerting the woman at the back that there’s new people. it’s mostly empty, with only a couple of other people there.

you assume it’s the owner that comes up to you both as soon as she registers it’s seungcheol coming in and grins, clasping her hands to her chest. “oh, cheolie, it’s been so long!”

yup, it’s definitely the owner then.

the mentioned man smiles, and turns to you with a look that says “i told you so,” before greeting the woman back with the same level of enthusiasm. “it’s nice to see you, mrs. kim.”

mrs. kim turns to you, her eyebrows raised. “cheolie, are you dating this person? i thought you said you were single!” she smacks seungcheol’s arm slightly, covering her mouth as she laughs.

seungcheol looks at you before back at her in horror—though you swear you can see a tinge of red on his face like yesterday. “n-no! we’re just…friends, that’s all!”

you raise an eyebrow, never agreeing to actually be his friend but the panicked look on his face makes you grin. maybe you’ll humor him, just for a little bit. besides, the disdainful look this auntie was giving you makes you feel like she was going to kick you out if you said anything else.

“yes, cheolie’s right. we’re just friends.”

he sends you a grateful look—wait, did you just call him cheolie?

seungcheol chooses to ignore whatever warmth is building up inside him, and instead pushes you to the nearest free laundry machine, holding onto your shoulders after giving an awkward smile to the owner—this only adds to the slightly uncomfortable feeling in his chest. he drops his hands, putting them in his sweatpant pockets instead to avoid any other weird emotions (it doesn’t work).

attempting to sound natural, he leans against the washer machine before you shoo him to the next one as you open the door and put your dirty clothes in the tub. “so…” he starts. “cheolie?”

you look up at him, closing the door after you’ve checked to make sure everything’s in the right order. “oh. i guessed it would be more natural to call you that if you were my friend, right, seungcheol?” you give him a look before giggling.

seungcheol finds that he wants to hear your laugh more; something vulnerable from your somewhat tough surface. he scrunches his nose. “i would prefer you call me cheol…o-or cheolie, if you’d want to. no one calls me seungcheol unless they’re mad at me.”

you hum a reply, working on putting in detergent and fabric softener in the right places before taking a couple of coins from your wallet for the machine.

“oh!” you look to the side to see seungcheol with one hand pointing at your cherry printed wallet, and the other covering his mouth. “i love cherries! this means that we’re meant to be.” he says grinning, before the words register in his head. “like friends, of course, right? i didn’t mean anything else by it! wait, i don’t mean that like you wouldn’t—” seungcheol cuts himself off in a panic, face now the colour of his favourite fruit. what is he even saying?

you give him a weird look, trying to not embarrass him further by questioning what he means—it doesn’t work; he’s now squatting down on the floor, covering his face but peeking through his fingers to look up at you. “okay…cheol it is then.”

you reach out a hand to help him up from his new position. you can’t believe you’re saying this. at the same time, though, you didn’t expect him to be this…adorable, as much as you hate to admit it. maybe he isn't as bad as you think.

“friends?”

cheol takes your hand.

iv. meet their friends

you ❙

are you stalking me??

kkuma’s dad 🍒 ❙

???!?

you ❙

look up

cheol does what you ask, and flinches as he sees you right in front of him, almost as if you appeared out of nowhere. you laugh, joined by the barista on the other side of the counter in the small coffee shop—his name tag reads joshua.

you stop laughing when cheol doesn’t join in, the man’s eyes still wide open. did you know he was thinking about you or something?

you wave a hand in front of him when he doesn’t respond to you calling his name. “cheolie, you okay?” (neither of the two of you notice joshua’s smirk at the nickname or the sneaky look the deer eyed man gives his co-worker jeonghan, who has a similar expression on his face).

cheol blinks, and opens his mouth before closing it, his coffee left forgotten on the counter beside him. “you…where did you come from?” he finally says after he stares at you for a second.

you point to a building through the tinted window across the road. “that’s where i work! i just came over to try out the coffee here before heading home.”

cheol nods before looking to the side to the barista who had laughed with you earlier. “oh, this is joshua. and that,” he waves a hand towards a worker who’s now taking an order on the other side of the room, “is jeonghan. they run this place together.”

joshua rolls his eyes before holding his hand out to shake yours. once you take his hand and introduce yourself, he smiles sweetly before shooting a look at cheol. “he forgot to mention that we’re his only friends…well, other than you now, right?” he shoots you a wink. you raise an eyebrow, now seeing why him and cheol are close—they’re both a bit overconfident, aren't they? you wouldn’t be surprised if jeonghan’s the same.

your attention back to cheol, you smile at him again. despite agreeing to be friends approximately twenty one days ago (no, he wasn’t counting; why would he count?), he’s still not used to how…nice you are to him. your gaze feels like a warm spotlight on him, and he’s still not sure how he feels about it. all cheol knows is that he smiles back every time.

“i’m gonna head home now. send me pictures if you take kkuma on a walk later, okay?” you say pointedly, starting to turn around until you feel a hand on your arm. “wait!”

you look back to see joshua stifling a laugh at cheol, who looks at you pleadingly, holding you back. “don’t leave me alone with them!” he points at joshua and jeonghan, who had come back while you were talking to make drinks and actually do his job, unlike his coworker.

when you don’t give cheol an answer, he sighs before tightening his grip on your arm. “please…” he starts, running his other hand through his newly permed dark hair. he had texted you the other day, asking for your opinion; you told him the truth: it looked great. he hadn’t responded.

“why don’t i drop you off? i have to pick up kkuma to take her to the river anyway. it’s getting dark, and i would rather you be with me than on the bus.”

you roll your eyes at his concern before pausing. “wait. you’re taking kkuma out for a walk but not inviting me? and here i thought we were friends, choi seungcheol.”

he winces at the use of his full name before putting both his hands up in an effort to appease you. “okay, okay. you can come with us.”

both joshua and jeonghan raise an eyebrow at their best friend’s words and cheol groans, grabbing your hand and pausing to glare at the two of them before stalking off quickly with you behind him. “don’t you dare say anything,” he yells back at them on your way out, leaving the owners of the falling for u cafe giggling.

v. spend more time with them

you step out of cheol’s car with a strange sense of deja vu. the last time you had been in it, you thought it was big and pretentious but now…now you think it suits him, but not in a bad way like at first. huh. maybe kkuma being in the backseat helps.

speaking of kkuma, cheol entrusts you with her leash as he gets his jacket out from the backseat, and takes kkuma out with him in his arms. he ruffles her hair before fixing her bow, making sure it’s still pinning down her bangs, so to speak. he gives her a kiss, and you can’t help but find them adorable; cheol cares so much for her, and it’s obvious in the way he treats her.

cheol looks up at you, drawing kkuma’s attention to you as well. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”

you lift an eyebrow before bluntly speaking. “cheolie. it’s because you just happen to be so good looking.” you wink at him jokingly, giggling when he looks around in panic, hoping no one notices how red he is—thankfully for him, there’s no one around.

kkuma licks him on the cheek, trying to comfort him, and he smiles softly at her before putting her down and grabbing her leash from you—not without pouting and grumbling about how embarrassed he is, of course. after he makes sure that the leash is secure, he gets up, brushing off anything that may have gotten on him before smiling.

as you walk along the riverside, stopping occasionally when kkuma does, you learn more about your new friend. he’s not jobless like you thought he was—he works as a manager at a local finance company, and is taking a little break to use up his days off since they don’t carry forward.

when you ask about kkuma’s name’s origin, he avoids your eyes sheepishly. “i…when we adopted her a few years back, i was obsessed with roasted sweet potatoes and…it just turned into her name ‘cause we couldn’t think of anything else.”

you gape at cheol before hitting his shoulder in horror. “WHAT? you’re lucky that kkuma is a cute name.”

cheol sighs, scratching his head. “yeah, yeah i know. at least i didn’t name her potato, right?” you nod in agreement, realizing it could be much worse.

you shiver when a particularly cool breeze flits by the three of you, jacket a little too thin for how cold it gets this late. the sun had set a while ago, and you decided earlier to head back to the car before it got too dark.

cheol looks at you from the corner of his eye and huffs, looking away before giving you kkuma’s leash. “here.”

he starts to take off his leather jacket, his red and white beanie falling off in the process—you manage to catch it just in time before it hits the ground. cheol grins and puts his jacket on your shoulders, taking his beanie out of your hand before you can protest.

“what—cheol! you’re only wearing a sweater, you’re gonna be so cold!” you glare at him, trying to give him back his jacket. he shrugs in response, putting the beanie on top of your head, covering your vision before he adjusts it.

“you need it more than me. besides,” cheol shows you the inside of his sleeve, “it’s fleece lined!”

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say, cheolie,” you grumble before giving him kkuma’s leash so you can make your way back to the parking lot.

his lips stretch up slightly before he clears his throat. “of course! it’s your cheolie who’s talking after all,” he says, before freezing. huh, he slips up a lot around you, doesn’t he? “i-i mean that like—”

“yeah i know, cheol,” you cut him off by patting his fluffy hair down. “i get what you mean, so don’t worry about it.”

you continue to walk even as he stops, and turn back with a grin. “i’m sure i’m not the only one who can say you’re my cheolie anyway.”

cheol mirrors your expression before he looks to the side and clears his throat again. “well…totally.”

you laugh before leaning down to watch kkuma, hoping she’ll let you pet her (kkuma doesn’t even look at you, instead opting to stare into the distance as if she’s a seasoned sailor.)

cheol stares down at you softly. he doesn’t know why he agreed with you, actually. jeonghan had once called him a similar thing, and both of them had immediately agreed to never think of that incident again, the cringeness being too much to handle. even his own mother hadn’t called him that since he was young…but he always finds himself agreeing with what you say.

vi. giggle it out

cheolie 🍒 ❙

hey wanna walk kkuma with me?

we’re going around the block

you ❙

is that even a question.

of course

i need my daily kkuma intake

cheolie 🍒 ❙

😭😭😭😭

i’ll be in front of the lobby in 5

you get up from your bed, where you had been scrolling on your phone after work. after taking a quick look at yourself in the bathroom, you fix your hair to make sure it’s perfect—wait. you’re just going to walk kkuma; why are you paying so much attention to how you look? you turn on your phone camera, and look at your reddening face.

to tell the truth, you knew why you were making sure you wore the nice pants you rarely take out, and fixing your hair again. the thing you didn’t know though was when you started feeling this way towards cheol, like you had to be your best for him. isn’t he just the apartment owner’s son? the owner of the dog you’ve found yourself loving? you sigh, slapping yourself lightly on the cheek. that’s enough. your phone buzzes, and you catch yourself immediately opening it as fast as you can.

cheolie 🍒 ❙

where are u??

i’m leaving in the next minute

hurry up 😗

you giggle at the emoji before pausing, cursing yourself out in your head. you search around for a jacket to wear—it was late, and cold outside; you aren’t about to risk catching anything—and your eyes settle on cheol’s leather jacket, the one he told you to keep with a wink before blushing last week. you hadn’t worn it, but it was neatly hung on the back of your bedroom door, waiting for you to pick it up, so you do. you pull on his jacket carefully, his cologne surrounding you for a second as you rush out to lock your door, almost forgetting your phone on your bed in the process.

you wave to cheol as you step outside of the lobby, the cold air making you shiver before the warmth of his jacket covers you completely. you nod politely at mingyu—he lives a floor higher than you, and sometimes comes to your door by accident, though his partner is usually there to drag him back to the elevator and get to the right floor. mingyu’s perched on the ground, petting kkuma gently as she barks contently. wow, he’s got kkuma privileges too, huh?

“well, i’ll get going! have fun on your date,” mingyu says, winking as he gets up and walks casually to the front doors, even having the gall to whistle.

you and cheol look at each other before giggling, your cheeks turning the colour of what’s become a fruit dear to you because of the man in front of you. cheol adjusts his grip on kkuma’s leash before walking slowly, making sure you can keep up with him.

you wave at his parents when you pass by them; they’re talking animatedly with the security guard at the front about something, and you hear your name mentioned with cheol’s once you pass them. you turn back to ask them what they’re talking about but stop when you see the trio giggling to themselves. wow, does everyone think you’re dating or something? …not that you seem to mind it like you first thought you would.

cheol clears his throat, and puts a hand around your elbow, urging you to carry on and leave them alone. “so…” he starts, crossing his hands over his chest—huh, haven’t you seen this before? he clears his throat again, looking down at kkuma as she walks gracefully down the sidewalk. “you like my jacket, huh?”

you nod, and peek over at cheol’s expression—he’s grinning to himself, clearing his throat every so often. “yeah, i do. i mean, it’s not just the jacket that i like—” you cut yourself off before you say too much. you feel cheol tense too, and wince. why’d you have to go and ruin this moment?

cheol’s panicking, his mind and heart running laps together. what. does that mean you like him? he knows he’s definitely not good enough for you, that’s for sure. he coughs before looking off into the distance, avoiding your eyes, as if he knows you’re trying to analyze his expression. “you know, i could always give you more. j-jackets, i mean of course.”

you gape at him before schooling your expression to be more neutral, though the colour of your cheeks betray your true feelings. “pfft, you make it sound like we’re dating or something,” you laugh slightly before looking in the opposite direction. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? somehow, you’re making this situation even worse than before.

you sneak a look at cheol again, and stop, realizing he’s completely lost for words. his mouth is opening and closing like a fish, and he’s struggling to say anything. he looks straight at you and starts giggling instead, not knowing what else to do. you giggle with him, realizing how silly this whole situation is.

here you are, giggling with the guy you like, faces brighter than tomatoes.

you stare at each other for a bit before kkuma barks angrily, pulling on her leash as she tries to keep moving forward. remembering you’re supposed to be walking your favourite dog, and not just standing in the middle of the sidewalk and giggling, you take a step forward, cheol by your side.

you walk in silence again, the hysteria wearing off. as you turn to face another street, cheol mutters about how cold it is, and puts his hand in your jacket pocket, looking away and covering his face—his hands don’t stop you from seeing how bright his ears are.

you nod at his words before grabbing his hand in your pocket with yours and squeezing gently. “yup, you’re totally right about that, cheolie.”

sweet silence coats the two of you again, and you clear your throat, looking down at your feet as they step forward. “so…” you mimic cheol’s tone from before. “how many jackets do you really have?”

cheol, flustered now that you’re speaking to him, stumbles on his words. “u-um, i’m not sure,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his other hand over his warm neck.

you squeeze the hand in your pocket once more, before stopping and shrugging. “well…i think you’ll need more, considering you’ll be giving them to me, right?” you look up at him with a grin despite your nonchalant words.

he stares at you as if you handed the world to him. he grins, and suddenly you can’t help but giggle…again. if someone chooses to walk out of the surrounding houses and buildings, they would probably think the two of you are crazy. something must be messed up in your minds to be giggling this late at night in the cold, especially considering the dog with you seems to be in a bad mood.

kkuma barks again, not caring if she ruins your little moment together—even she thinks you’re crazy, and she has to deal with seungcheol everyday. realizing she has to take more active measures, she walks up to the two of you haughtily once more, and taps your shoe with her nose.

this gets the two of you to shut up. only for a moment though, until you scream in joy and hug cheol, your hands out of your pockets and finding their way comfortably around cheol’s back, as if they’re meant to be there.

you’re almost about to cry, being so happy. “kkuma likes me, cheolie!” you scream into his ear, not caring if it hurts him or not—he’s content in your arms, only laughing slightly before pulling away and booping your nose. “i told you she would like you if you became friends with me!” he exclaims with a grin.

you hum in agreement before shrugging out of cheol’s arms softly. “well, maybe friends…” you trail off, looking up at him with a smile. he chuckles before he finishes your sentence, “isn’t enough.” you both grin at each other once more, about to burst into another giggling fit.

the other choi sibling pops his head over the entrance, already yelling. “hey, choi seungcheol! we’re about to close the gates, you’re taking too long to walk kkuma!” he pauses, seeing you two smiling at each other with heart eyes, and rolls his eyes. “oh, finally! hurry up you two lovebirds, it’s late.”

you turn back to cheol, who has a frown on his face. “hm. i don’t really like lovebirds…” he caresses your red cheek gently before chucking again. “what about cherries instead? we can be a pair of cherries.”

you laugh, caught off guard by how corny he’s being before shaking your head. “whatever you say, my cherry. let’s get back inside before your mom comes out and yells at us, hm?” you say, interlocking your fingers with his free hand.

kkuma barks lazily at the two of you from the ground, her goal finally complete.

a/n (again): thank you so much for reading!! let me know what you think hehe i promise i don't bite !! lots of love - moon ♡

bonus drabble: number one

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 27 days

Text

the girl next door 22

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

A man shows up shortly after. You think it’s the judge but you vaguely recognise his thick gray hair and his stance. Steve greets him happily and introduces him as Bucky; the other witness.

He nods at you and your mom as he crosses his arms and subtly checks his watch. He’s not dressed as nicely as Steve; he has no jacket but he wears a button-up and slacks. You wonder if he’s just as surprised by the whole affair or even if he has the context to be.

Your mom and Steve barely know each other. It’s only been a few weeks since he moved in. Isn’t marriage supposed to be a big thing? Something you do after at least a few years. Well, how do you know? All you know of normal life, you learned from TV and everyone knows that’s not realistic.

The judge arrives and introduces herself as the Honorable Valentina de Fontaine. Your vision is blurry as she begins by reading from a piece of paper. Is this how it really is? No romance, no fairy tale, just a stuffy city hall room and a judge with a script. You don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

It’s just too fast. It’s too surreal. It just doesn’t feel real.

You can barely process the words as Steve and your mom stand before the judge. Their vows are lost to the void of your confusion. That man, Bucky, stands near, intently listening but showing no emotion. He senses you looking at him and gazes back at you. You quickly turn away and self-consciously pull at your dress.

You don’t move until your asked to sign. You take the pen but have a hard time getting a grip on it. How strange it all is. You manage to sign your name on the paper to verify your presence and step back. The declaration of man and wife echoes in your ears.

What does it all mean? Steve is... your stepfather now? Is he still going to live next door? Is he going to move in? Do you have to go? Where? What about your mom? She’s still sick. None of it makes sense.

The judge congratulates the happy couple. The do seem happy. You bend your arms over your chest and clutch the sides of your neck. You chew your lip awkwardly as your mom and Steve beam at each other triumphantly.

“Uh, right,” Steve snaps out of it, “so, we’re going to do lunch. How about it, Buck, you wanna join?”

Bucky looks dully at his friend then glances at you. You notice how your mom clings to Steve’s hand. All of this is so fast and so much.

“Sure, why not, I can drive this one,” Bucky says, “so you two love birds get at least the drive to yourself.”

“You don’t gotta do that,” Steve smiles.

“Don’t mind,” Bucky insists, “you two must be so excited.”

“Honey,” your mother keeps her voice low, “it’s alright, they can meet us at the restaurant, right? I mean, we’ll need to talk about a few things on the way.”

“Sure, uh, sure. There’s a reservation so you can just give my name,” Steve’s voice evens out, “see ya there.

“Mm, sure. Starving anyway,” Bucky mutters and turns to you, “coming?”

You look at the man then your mom Steve. Your mother gives you a look that says get out of here. Best that you don’t ruin the happiest day of her life. It truly does seem to be. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her anything close to elated but she’s just smiling and latched onto her husband.

Her husband.

You turn and follow the other man from the room. He slows his gait until you’re walking beside him. He’s quiet as you tread through the maze that is City Hall. As you get to the parking lot, he points you without a word. You go to a car and hear the locks slide back.

You wait until he gets in the driver’s side before you open the passenger door. As you buckle in, he checks the mirror and turns the engine. He sighs.

“Must be strange,” he comments as he reverses out, “new dad and everything, huh?”

You’re quiet but make yourself eke out a noise, “mhmm.”

“Sorry, I probably don’t make it any better,” he steers casually, “why don’t you save us both the trouble and find something to listen to?”

He turns on the stereo with a button on the wheel and you flinch. You hesitantly lean forward and search the stations. You don’t want to make him listen to anything too out of his preference and you’re a bit too embarrassed to search for what you really like. You settle on a station with old songs you recognise vaguely.

“Talking Heads, nice,” he comments. It takes you a moment to realises that’s the band’s name.

You nod and look out the window. He doesn’t press further. He doesn’t try like Steve to manufacture the conversation. He just lets you be. You can appreciate that. You watch the buildings pass by and flutter your fingers against your legs.

As the car pulls in behind a restaurant, you feel another lurch in your stomach. You’re both hungry and terrified. It’s a nice place and you’ve never been anywhere nicer than an Applebee’s. That was when you were eight and your grandmother took you out for your birthday.

You let Bucky take the lead. He gets out, you get out. He crosses the lot, you cross the lot. Right there at his side. He’s a stranger, you don’t know him, but his presence is almost reassuring. He has a confidence you could never fathom. Besides, what choice do you have?

You step inside and he steps ahead to meet the hostess. He gives Steve’s name and you trail after him as you’re led further inside. You see other diners dressed nicely for their meals. You look down at yourself and the faded polka dot dress.

You sit and wait. You’re on edge, waiting for Bucky to say something, anything. To ask you a question. So what about your mom? You take care of her? She’s sick, huh?

He lets you be and orders a coffee, asking if you want something at the same time. You just ask for water and sink into the chair. Your eyes wander over the floor and up another table. Another woman stares at you. You try to ignore her as the server nears and puts down the coffee and water, a small divet between his brows.

As you sip, you hear your mom’s crow above the din. You glance over as she walks ahead of Steve. The settle in and order drinks as Bucky greets them. It all still feels so disjointed, like a dream. As if the little pieces of reality have been stuck together haphazardly.

"There's the happy couple,” Bucky muses dryly.

“Says the eternal bachelor,” Steve retorts, “sound jealous, huh?”

“I’m quite happy, actually. Got my own space, my own bed, my own everything.”

“Sure,” Steve chuckles, “sounds amazing.”

“Any plans for the honeymoon?” Bucky asks though he sounds disinterested.

“Probably will have to wait a while. For now, we’re just gonna sort things out,” Steve turns and looks at you, “you’re quiet, kiddo, what’s going on?”

You shake your head and sit back as the server returns with a coffee for your mom and a grapefruit juice for Steve. You wait for him to leave but he doesn’t. You stare at the table and he clears his throat. You look up at the man as the table stills.

“Excuse me, miss, um,” he keeps his voice low, “this is a nice establishment so I’m going to have to ask you to cover up.”

You bite your lip and your eyes go wide, “what? I don’t...”

“You can put a napkin over your chest,” he suggests.

Steve lets out a heavy breath and your mother mutters under hear breath.

“I...” you look down and try to pull your dress up, “I’m sorry.”

“Here, take my jacket,” Steve stands strips off his jacket, offering it up. “Thanks, you can go.”

You accept his coat with a quavery thank you and he sits after the terse dismissal. With your head down and your body on fire, you pull the jacket around your shoulders, hiding in it. It smells like his cologne. Your eyes tinge and you roll them back to keep from crying.

“Wow, that was rude,” Steve says.

“Well, she shouldn’t be wearing something so inappropriate,” your mother snorts.

Bucky shifts awkwardly and you turn your face away, humiliated.

“Her dress is just fine. That guy has no right to be commenting on her body. We’re paying customers,” Steve snarls, “makes me wanna just go.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffle, “really.”

“It’s not okay,” Steve insists.

‘”Oh, honey, don’t be so dramatic,” you mother snickers, “if she didn’t want people to comment, she’d cover up.”

Steve is quiet as Bucky sips from his coffee. He clinks it down and you wince.

“I think you both should let her speak for herself,” he says bluntly, “and if she doesn’t wanna talk about it, move on.”

You blink and slowly peek over at the man. He doesn’t glance back or even acknowledge you. He just sits back and swirls his mug.

“I always hated places like this,” he scoffs.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #drabble #series #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox au #captain america

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cieloclercs · 10 months

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a social media fic with nando where his gf/fiancé/wife comes to the paddock for the first time after they had their second child? And like the photographers are all oveeeer reader cuz of the cuteness and the other drivers are just soo happy nando found his person and started a family and just overload cuteness from the media and the fans and stuff like that 😊(ps: can you make the reader 10-12 years younger than alonso? I’m a sucker for a good age gap!) btw, looooove your writing and smau’s!! Have a good day 🫶🏻

-🦕

home is where the heart is — fernando alonso

genre. social media au pairing. fernando alonso x reader warnings. swearing

author’s note. hello anon! i wasn’t entirely sure if you meant first time after having their second child or first time ever, but i’ve gone with the latter so i hope you like it! also there isn’t a direct reference to the age gap in here sorry :( you can still imagine it that way though because that was my thought process when i was making this <3

liked by formulaupdates and 2,367 others

f1wags Fernando Alonso and his longtime girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N spotted in the paddock for the first time! Y/N has just given birth to their second child, María! What an adorable family 😍

view all comments…

username you’re telling me i’ve been waiting to meet the mystery that is Y/N for YEARS and then she turns up with TWO WHOLE CHILDREN IM GOING TO IMPLODE

username i can’t believe the mystery girlfriend nando’s been hoarding is THIS HOT

username he knows we’ll fight him for her 🤭

username what the FUCK

username two kids?? daddy alonso’s been busy 😳

username STOP 😭😭

username he’s officially a dilf now 🥳🥳🥳

username carmen and maría are so cuteeee 🥹🥹

username i knowwww 😭 and girl dad nando is SERVING

username look at how he’s got carmen on his shoulders AHHH 🦋🦋🦋

2h ago

liked by yourusername and 65,736 others

tagged: yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial Home race week with mis ángeles ❤️ So glad to have my three greatest loves with me for this special race. Y/N, Carmen y María, os quiero a todos más de lo que puedo decir 💗 / I love you all more than I can ever say. See you in Canada!

view all comments…

username i was NOT prepared to cry today

username stop because this is SO SIGNIFICANT as well?? like before y/n fernando was single for so long and now he’s finally found his person 🥹🥹🥹 i’m not crying u are

username i’m pretty sure ur crying

username don’t EXPOSE me

lancestroll it was so lovely to see y/n and the girls! hope you bring them to the paddock again soon 🤍

yourusername i think carmen would throw a fit of we didn’t 😅 how does canada sound?

lancestroll see you there! 😁

fernandoalo_oficial Do I get a say in this?

yourusername the girls will miss you if you go without us 🥲

fernandoalo_oficial Just the girls? 🤨

yourusername ok maybe i’ll miss you too 😉

username not y/n and nando flirting on main 🫣

lewishamilton So happy for you mate ❤️ Give Y/N and the girls my love x

*fernandoalo_oficial and yourusername liked this comment

fernandoalo_oficial ❤️

carlossainz55 the most beautiful couple 🤍 me alegro mucho por vosotros / so happy for you guys

yourusername gracias carlos ☺️ come visit soon, carmen and maría miss their favourite uncle!

carlossainz55 on my way as we speak

landonorris favourite uncle? am i a joke to you?

maxverstappen1 excuse me i think that title belongs to me 🤨

lancestroll not a chance. i’m their favourite

yourusername boys there’s no need to fight! you can share the title 😌

fernandoalo_oficial Lando is their favourite

landonorris HAHAHHA SUCK ON THAT

username nando really said fuck it let’s cause some chaos 😭

maxverstappen1 beyond happy for you guys (even though i should be the girls’ favourite uncle)

fernandoalo_oficial Keep dreaming, Max!

username yeah you’ve already won enough titles, let the others have this one!

*yourusername liked this comment

username i still want to know how they kept this secret for so long 😭

landonorris i deserve a medal for not telling anyone tbh.

username PHAHAHHA LANDO

astonmartinf1 We’ll be seeing the full Alonso family around our garage again soon, hopefully? 👀

yourusername keep my boyfriend’s car fighting for podiums and then we’ll talk!

username SHE’S JUST LIKE ME FR

username iconic.

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christinesficrecs · 7 months

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Author Spotlight is a Saturday thing now **checks to make sure it really is Saturday** 😋 Enjoy these gems. They are all amazing!!

pretty in tents by kellifer_fic | 7.6K

Even though he’s making fun of it, Stiles thinks the whole thing sounds awesome and, like most stuff these days, the experience is going to be totally wasted on Scott.

By Moon And Stars by kellifer_fic | 15.9K | Mature

“Have you heard of this Alpha?” Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it’s heavy and doesn’t sit well on Scott. He can’t shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it.

“I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories.”

“Tell me of him. Tell me a war story.”

Relationship Status: It’s complicated by kellifer_fic | 4K | Mature

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you’re like, into me?

the ring of the ancestors is not a euphemism by kellifer_fic | 10.6K

Stiles hadn’t noticed the way the entire commissary had gone silent when the guy had approached his table, or the two military escorts that had been flanking him, looking at each other like maybe they should be intervening but weren’t sure how. All he saw was someone stealing the last dessert from him and Stiles didn’t think about it, he just reached across the table and snatched it back with a, “What the hell, dude?”

tumescent by kellifer_fic (9k)

“I would have to want to date Derek for your plan to work,” Stiles points out, secure in the knowledge that his logic is infallible and yes, he’s had a pointless and soul-destroying crush on Derek for as long as he can remember but nobody knows that.

powerful in-scent-ive by kellifer_fic | 14.5K

Stiles holds up a hand, because he really can’t listen to the bites-are-all-right speech that Derek has given Scott dozens of times. “Dude, don’t.”

insert camping pun here by kellifer_fic | 12.5K

“I’m going to be different,” Stiles clarified. “I’m going to go to parties and make friends and,” Stiles leaned closer into the computer and whispered conspiratorially, “Get laid.”

Dude, what’s a bulwark? by kellifer_fic | 12.1K

Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

has time re-written every line by kellifer_fic | 14.6K

No, dad. Listen to what I'm saying. Yesterday, I was eighteen. I'm not speaking metaphorically, or about the way I feel or whatever. I was eighteen, we lived in the house on Maple, the last conversation we had was about how fries didn't count as a vegetable and I, uh, wasn't married.

Vampires, man. Not to be trusted by kellifer_fic | 9.6K

Stiles appreciates Derek worrying about him being overwhelmed but he really could have used a few overenthusiastic werewolves and impatient humans for his homecoming. He’s felt disconnected because of his forced isolation and would have at least liked to have had Scott on his doorstep when he got there.

monster at the end of the book by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 16.7K

It's not like he forgets about the scar. Just, sometimes it takes him off guard when he's half asleep or run down. It's there, a new companion that reminds him of the world he now lives in, how it's changed and what it's cost. Still, sometimes he'll blink at it owlishly in the mirror like he's doing now, at the way it runs alongside his collar bone and down. It even separates a mole into two neat halves.

i love you a latte [Fic & Podfic] by kellifer_fic, RsCreighton | 6.6K

"You... want me to come to your family reunion?"

"Yes."

"And you'll come to my best friend's wedding as...my... date?" Stiles thinks the whole proposition bears repeating.

"Yes," Derek says again, brows furrowing like he's starting to regret asking.

it's free (and always will be) by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 31.6K | Explicit

Stiles starts looking around, like there's someone who'll rescue him from this painfully awkward situation and Derek can't blame him. All he can think is this is some kind of elaborate prank Laura is playing on him after she'd found his pile of Fangboy back copies last month.

Or, the one where Derek has to marry a human to save Clawbook and it turns out to be Stiles. He's completely doomed.

#sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #author spotlight #writer appreciation #sterek fandom #kellifer_fic #fanfic writers

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slicesofapple · 3 months

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Favorite TodoBaku/BakuTodo fics

So, I am fairly new to this fandom/pairing, but I decided to start building my favorites list. Already it is very, very hard to choose. There are so many amazing fics and incredible authors writing them! But these (in no particular order) are the ones I am coming back to/re-reading the most. (I'll be adding to this as I go, this is just the start of it). Many of these authors have other fantastic todobaku/bakutodo fics as well.

playing with fire by ninanna. rated M. How things unfold and overlap, hurt and please between two people who do not see any potential in each other beside rivalry and occasional partnership. [Note: I think this is now my favorite all-time fic; it's a tour de force; spectacular. all ninanna's todabaku/bakutodo fics are - the author reaches in and rips out your guts in the best way possible.]

The Feel of His Hand is Like Home by XenophonSpeaks. rated T. A typical mission goes unexpectedly south, leaving Todoroki reeling with panic, injured and compromised. Thankfully, he didn't embark on this mission alone. [This author! so good.]

Sated, by Crossfire. rated M. Some Alphas and Omegas get cuddly, or tired, or hungry. Some Alphas and Omegas like to fuck. Bakugou and Todoroki like to fight. [I'm a sucker for (especially non-explicit) alpha/beta/omega, and this one hits the sweetest of sweet spots.]

anything you say can and will be held against you by delectum. rated G. What is the correct protocol for when the villain you’re supposed to be apprehending starts flirting? [So funny and perfectly executed.]

Be Kind, Rewind by seventh_time_lucky. rated T. What starts off as a normal-seeming Sunday starts to get stranger and stranger, until Shouto finds himself locked out of UA, with no money and no phone, and the only person he can find to help is Midoriya. But Midoriya is too tall and cries every time he looks at Shouto, and Shouto starts to think something has gone really, really wrong. [Perfect angst. wip.]

Finding and Holding by bigcatsmallcat. rated T. Shouto gets temporarily quirked into a mushroom. [This one is really bakutododeku, but it is so adorable I had to put it in.]

Something of Silence by Viidoll. rated T. When Bakugou Katsuki is unexpectedly hit with a muting quirk, he makes it his mission to hunt down the moron stupid enough to silence him. Reluctant to receive help, he somehow gets it anyway - in the perplexing form of one Todoroki Shouto. In the process of losing his voice and struggling to get it back, Bakugou might just learn a little about listening. [Ah, one of the earliest ones I read of these two. So perfect.]

put some socks on by Tierfal. rated T. Shouto comes home after an extremely long day, and Bakugou is sitting on the couch. [The banter here is especially delectable.]

the witch's familiar by orange_cheetah. rated M. The night he escapes from the castle, crown prince Todoroki Shouto finds himself cursed by the magician in his father's employ. Undeterred, Todoroki strikes up a deal of his own: kill the most powerful witch in the kingdom to have the curse broken. There's just one small problem: he's somehow ended up as the familiar of the witch in question—Bakugou Katsuki. [This is such great storytelling, the way the pieces all slot into place at the end.]

i'm tired, i'm tired of not loving you by yekijan. rated M. [Amnesia fic. So much fabulous angst.]

Ten Years Wanting by Ramabear (RyMagnatar). Rated E. Bakugou. His name is Bakugou. Or at least that is what they call him.Everyone has been calling him by some other phrase that he cannot understand and that makes his head hurt when he hears it too much. Bakugou doesn’t feel right until he hears Todoroki call him that and then it does. He remembers Todoroki calling him Bakugou. He has never really said his name with fondness and even now, as he tells Bakugou what he expects of him, he doesn’t say it kindly but he does say it.Something in the back of Bakugou’s mind tells him that this is progress. This is more than what there was before. This is closer to what he wants. [Another amnesia fic, this time the other way around].

A normal poly relationship doesn't have this many fucking spreadsheets by Anonymous. Not Rated. three teenage boys being fucking idiots because actually being mature about your feelings is for suckers. [wip. this is hilarious but also very sweet. warning: izuku is pretty much an asshole here, at least so far. and it is very much bakutodo/todobaku, not bakutododeku.]

I will love you in every universe by HeavenCat. Rated T. During a rescue mission, pro hero Katsuki aka Dynamight switches places with his fifteen-year-old self. (it's so good! so sweet and funny and good).

Ruin My Life by justhavesex. Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings. He's not a vengeful person, really, he's not. But him and Bakugou have started this little on-going war of theirs back in middle school when they were 10 years old and Todoroki had accidentally—if you got Todoroki drunk enough and fed his ego well enough he would, in fact, admit that it was very much on purpose—accidentally fed Bakugou's limited edition All Might magazine to his cat.

feel free to put your own faves in the comments or tags 😉

#todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #todobaku #bakutodo #fic rec #a03 #bnha #fanfic recs #mha

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jedimasterbailey · 4 months

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Hey there love 😘 for the writer ask game 💚, ❤️,💜, 💛,🤍, 🤎

Hi baby! 🥰 I love that you selected all the other colors so no one else takes them 🤣

💚- Do you ever feel inspired by and/or jealous of other people’s writing?

I’m always inspired by other people’s work whenever I read because I’m actually quite picky on what I read and have a super short attention span so if a fic gets my attention I’m always taking mental notes on how the author got my attention and enjoyment and I try to do it in my own writing. Huge shoutout to @mini-and-mighty @bluedeedeedoop @kaaragen @stellanslashgeode @alexeithegoat @archduke42 @lesbiansandpuns and of course my dearest wife @devondeal for writing my favorite pieces of fiction ever. Everyone should check out their work.

❤️- Do you ever feel anxious or scared while writing? If so, why?

Honestly no, writing is when I feel my most confident so it’s just pure fun for me.

💜- Name one song you’re listening to while writing your next/current fic. How or why does it help the writing process?

Oh I love this question because music really drives my work and is a need besides caffeine for me to write ☺️ I’m currently going in between my Luminara and Barriss story and the sequel story to The Padawans and where I’m in in both stories, I’m having to really delve into Barriss’s depression and internal pain and even Luminara’s I may add so I listen to the song “Birds” by Audrey Morgan. I guarantee you that you will think of Barriss Offee and/or Luminara Unduli when you hear that song and/or read the lyrics.

💛- Do you ever alter, highlight, or de-empathize certain canonical traits in a character? If so, why and describe how.

I definitely do more highlighting on Luminara and Barriss’s positive canonical traits (I.e. their compassion, their intelligence, etc.) because they receives so much slander from the Star Wars fandom that it’s partially why I started writing fic in the first place, because I want to chip away at that negativity.

🤍- What’s a fanfic scenario or idea you’d like someone else to write so you can read it?

I’d love to see someone tackle any of these ideas I have not conquered yet but would love to see someone’s interpretation of it.

1.) Ahsoka thinking of Barriss during the events of Order 66 and/or the events of the Ahsoka novel

2.) Luminara and Barriss during Order 66

3.) Luminara and Barriss in the direct aftermath of the first Geonosis battle

4.) How Ahsoka and Captain Rex split up after Padme’s funeral

5.) A Luminara and Ventress adventure after the events of Cloak of Darkness

🤎- How did you decide to write (or why are you writing) a certain fanfic?

I write fanfic mainly to fill in gaps in the Star Wars timeline canon refuses to touch on (I.e Barriss and Ahsoka post Wrong Jedi arc, Luminara and Barriss pre Clone Wars, etc.)this why I write them so that I can have that closure 🤣

#devondeal 💚💙#fanfic writer ask game #star wars fanfiction #thanks for the ask! 💚💙#fanfic writing #also I hope someone tackles one of the fic ideas for real

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embossross · 1 year

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The Devotion of the Girl in the Mirror

Chapter 3 >> Chapter 4 >> Masterlist

✣ Pairing: Rindou x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Series: part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Chapter CW: cockwarming, rough blow jobs, orgasm denial, light asphyxiation, mention of weight gain treated as negative, clumsy assignation of Japanese pet names by English speaking author (I tried 😞😩)

✣ Story CWs: BDSM dob/sub relationship; sex (oral, ptv, pta, etc.); genre typical drug use, alcohol, smoking

✣ Synopsis: A story of two lonely people find love for better or worse. Or, dom!Rindou is sweet on his girl. Or, on paper, you and Rindou have nothing in common. But sometimes chemistry defies logic, and with every conversation, you find yourself more bewitched until all you see, smell, or hear is Rindou.

✣ Word Count: ~6k

The gamy smell of cooking beef floods the space under your tongue. Your eyes track your mother as she turns down the heat to a simmer and tosses a few extra slabs of beef into the pot. For once, you’re home to eat a proper dinner with your mother, and she’s made a special occasion of it, springing for pricey cuts of meat to make sukiyaki.

“The tofu is a nice color,” you comment, hoping to hurry along to the part where your mother serves you a heaping bowl. All you ate today between classes was a granola bar and banana.

“Give it another minute. I swear! You’ve never had any patience,” your mother scolds.

“Not where my stomach is involved,” you agree.

“Have you been eating well? I worry with you always running out the door.”

“I’ve been eating too well. I’m afraid to step on a scale at this rate. I’m not sure there’s a restaurant in Roppongi I haven’t tried at this point.

“Roppongi? Why are you spending so much time there?”

There is no conspiracy to keep your mother out of the loop when it comes to Rindou. Unlike most of your classmates, you always considered your mom more a friend than a strict parental figure. Days and nights alike took your mother out of the house to man cash registers, stock shelves, iron suits, and mind other families’ children as the opportunity presented itself; so, in her stead, you took on the mantel of de facto mother to your little sister, of homemaker for your older brother. Rare nights with your mother at home were often spent debriefing her on the goings on of the household, which created a uniquely female solidarity between you both, a kind of perverse equality that warped the boundaries of parent and child.

You told your mother about your first heart break, first kiss, and every other milestone, so when she asks about Roppongi, you remind her that you’ve been seeing someone and offer up a few details: what he does for work (export/import), where he lives (Roppongi), how you met (a lie about a coffee shop).

“I recognize that look in your eye,” your mother says. “You’re in love.”

“Oh, because I’ve been in love so many times before?” you scoff.

“Exactly because you haven’t been in love before. This look is different. New. But I’ve seen it on other women far too many times. Tell me, what is it about this boy that has you falling in love?”

You slurp your udon, stalling not because you need time to think of an answer but because the answer is too readily available.

All your great heroes are writers, yet you never reckoned yourself one until recently when you started a journal. Great, heaping emotional confessions splay out across the pages as you unburden yourself of the too-big-feelings you harbor for Rindou. His every advantage and grace is captured on those pages, and the only trouble is translating the truth into something less scandalous for your mother’s ears. Because you may be close, nearly friends, but you cannot tell your mother that when Rindou chokes you, in the space between thinking and emptiness, you could make yourself a home.

“Well, he’s always there for me. Even when he’s busy. I know I can rely on him when it’s important,” you say.

Translation: Rindou works without making it his life, placing it lower in the balance of his priorities than time with you. It is a privilege to commit to lovers or even family over work. Your mother’s chapped hands, reddened from nights doused in dish detergent remind you of her sacrifices every time she stirs the pot. Rindou, free from those worries and hardships, strikes you as a fairytale prince.

Only a few weeks ago, he dropped everything to come to your side in the middle of a workday.

You normally answer texts within a matter of minutes, so five weeks ago, when half an hour passed with Rindou’s message left on read, he called you. Brave face on, you tried to answer like nothing was wrong, but sniffling tears warped the words, and Rindou forced you to admit what had happened.

“It’s not a big deal. I just got a really bad mark on my last essay. The professor’s comments are…harsh, yeah, harsh…but I’m okay,” you blubbered.

“What an asshole. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come pick you up,” Rindou said.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Seriously, I’m just being a baby. It’s not like I failed the class. From here on out, I just need to get A’s on all my assignments,” and here you drew a shaky breath as all A’s would be a near miraculous feat, “to pass the class. You work hard, and I’ll see you tonight.”

“Forget that. Tell me where you are now.”

“You said you had an important meeting with investors –”

“Don’t’ be a brat,” Rindou warned, and your jaw clicked shut and stayed there. “You think I give a fuck about this meeting? Compared to you? Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to find the closest froyo or ice cream shop. Go there and drop me your location. Then, buy every flavor with every topping you can imagine wanting. I don’t care if there are twenty bowls, and you take one bite from each. Buy every kind you like. Once I’m there, I’ll cheer you up, baby, but until then, treat yourself on me.”

The day played out exactly as Rindou commanded. You nursed a stomachache that night as Rindou listened to you talk through your anxieties. He treated you so softly as you cried that you couldn’t remember what you were so worried about when morning dawned. He never once checked his phone for messages from work, all his attention on you.

“What else? He’s a great listener. He doesn’t talk as much as me, and before you say it, Mom, yes haha, who out there talks as much as me? You’re hilarious. But, um, he isn’t just not talking, but he’s really listening even when I don’t think he is,” you say.

No translation needed for this one.

Slumped in his seat, eyes hidden by his bangs, sometimes you worry you are talking to a wall when you tell Rindou about your day. The problem is especially painful over the phone, where you can’t search his body language for any clues, and his affirmative noises come few and far between.

You told yourself that he cared, but sometimes, when you were at your lowest, it was hard to believe.

All your lingering worries were relieved shortly after New Year’s, when you broke the seal on staying over at Rindou’s place and began joining him several times a week at his apartment for nights of long, dirty sex. Times not spent in bed together usually found Rindou playing video games or listening to music, while you did your homework in a pile of blankets on his heated floors.

You thought you knew Rindou’s apartment inside and out until one day you dropped an earring on the floor. You lazily tapped around with your feet, but when it didn’t turn up, you dropped to your belly to look under the bed. Your earring shone gold and unmistakable, but your greedy eyes glossed over it to latch onto a pile of books. There were only a couple books in the stack, but as browsing other people’s libraries was one of your greatest pleasures in life, you crawled out from under the bed with the humble bounty in tow.

The first book compiled the short stories of Edogawa Rampo. The paper cover looked uncracked. New book smell oozed off the pages when you pressed your nose against them. You traced the titles on the back, picking out a few favorites like ‘The Human Chair’ to read later.

Impressed as you already were by Rindou’s taste as you long enjoyed Rampo’s uncanny valley explorations of 20th century new Japan, you were equally surprised to find Kani by Kōno Taeko as the next book. You remembered mentioning her work to him a few months ago as something you hoped to make time for outside your studies because while you loved 19th century literature, you also enjoyed the modern classics when time allowed.

The next book after that weighed heavy in your hands, and when you saw the title, you dropped it hard on the floor. Hakkenden. Rindou was reading Hakkenden. A bookmark saved his spot on the nineteenth of ninety-eight chapters.

You had been working your way through the epic behemoth, one of the longest in world literature, for the better part of two years and often brought it up in conversation. Rindou would sit stone-faced and seemingly bored as you talked about the most recent chapter. Yet here was the book. And now that you thought about it, you’d mentioned Rampo to him as well.

“Why are you on the floor?” Rindou’s voice came from behind your shoulder.

“You’re reading the books I talk about!” you squealed, holding the massive tome up in accusation.

Rindou scratched the back of his neck. “Well, yeah, but not all of it. I wanted to read everything you mention, but you read too fast for me. I got through Kani pretty fast in between meetings, but Hakkenden slowed me down way more than I thought. You weren’t kidding about that thing.”

“But just because I mention it doesn’t mean you’re going to like it. I could make better recommendations tailored to your tastes,” you said.

“That’s not the point. I’m reading them so we can talk about them,” Rindou said.

Heat swelled in your chest, and you understood for the first time why ancient peoples believed the heart was the source of all love. You dropped your books to the floor and took Rindou’s hand.

“Rindou, baby, sit down on the bed. I’m going to suck your cock now.”

“Oh, are you?” Rindou scowled, but his voice was light and unoffended, just the hint of the thwarted dom peeking through.

“Yeah, just this once, shut up and let me,” you said.

And maybe he understood how your heart pulsed in your chest, or maybe he just wanted his dick sucked because Rindou didn’t argue. He had, after all, proven he knew how to listen.

Face hot at the memory of what happened next, you fan yourself, hoping your mother will think it’s from the heat of the sukiyaki. Your mother, for her part, nods wisely.

“Listening is good. You do like to fill a silence. But understanding is something else. Some men seem like good listeners but truthfully they just have nothing to say,” your mom says, sage advice stemming from a decade plus of caving to the glorified fuck boy masquerading as a man that was your father.

“No, I know,” you agree. “But I do think he understands. When I dated Sensyuu for a bit – remember him? The guy from the factory? The one with the goatee – well, I thought he was so experienced and smart because he was in this thirties, but I know now that he was an immature idiot. With Rindou…it feels like he’s so intuitive. Like there’s so much about the world and people that he understands and could teach me.”

“Wait, how old is this boy again?” your mother asks.

“Relax, Mama. He’s only twenty-eight,” you reassure her.

“And you’re turning twenty-two in a few weeks…I suppose that’s reasonable. About the same as your grandparents,” your mother allows.

Relieved by your mother’s approval, you take a meaty bite of beef, chewing slowly to savor the flavor. Rindou never fashioned himself as some great teacher with you the pupil. Yet, you do learn so much when you’re with him. Not facts or even opinions, but about yourself. From his example, you discover a confident way of moving through the world, unapologetic of making a scene or breaking some social more that no one could justify in the first place. He shows you how to have fun outside of books, to take risks. And, oh how deliciously he teaches you about the limits of your own body.

Fucking Rindou teaches you about the pleasure of anticipation. Obliterating and ossifying as an orgasm may be, you learn to relish the ascent to the pinnacle, the delights of the journey. Discover that stretching the moments leading to the fall, finding new ways to lengthen that coiling rope inside your tummy, not only intensifies the descent, it is the very point.

Thus, every moment you spend with Rindou’s hands on your skin becomes a kind of pre-climax, like snacking on sweet grapes before a swish of white wine.

Because you are always listening to him, for his words and the subtle language of the body. If he nudges you with a thigh, you leap to correct your position. To his word, you follow. Such ecstasy in obeyance. And in every moment that passes without his direction, you wait and enjoy the act of waiting.

One time, a work emergency popped up, a problem with customs at the shipyard holding up a barge of goods. The call came right as Rindou promised you could cum after an hour of teasing cruelty. Your body was bowstring tight, ready to fire, when cursing to himself, Rindou unwound from your body and set to work. It went without saying that you did not dare cum then.

You tried to regain his permission, petting his arm, thumbing at your own pussy, and crying to soften the coldest of hearts, but Rindou didn’t even discipline you for the brattiness, too focused on his work.

Annoyed when your attempts didn’t let up, Rindou gave you a task of your own, pushing your head into his lap, your throat swallowing up the full length of him, and keeping you still with a submission hold.

Now, you cried in earnest, not just because of your needy pussy but the ugly obstruction that blocked your throat. Intellectually, you recognized that you could breathe through your nose, but your body insisted it couldn’t, that you would die here, suffocated on his dick. And for the next half hour, as Rindou made phone call after phone call, that’s what you did. You choked and whined and cried until your tears mixed with the steady stream of drool that streamed past your overstretched lips and down his balls. The details of Rindou’s phone call went straight over your head as your mental faculties busied themselves with restraining your hands and feet, both of which wanted to kick and claw for survival.

Finally, Rindou hung up the phone. The work crisis handled.

Thrusting up, he managed to choke you on the bare centimeter of his dick not already buried in your wet mouth. A few bruising pumps, and then his cum rushed unimpeded down your throat. Thick and rich, he came with more spurts than he’d ever gifted you before, and your body quivered with it.

Only then did Rindou dip one finger down to your clit and tap. Tiny inconsequential nudges, yet your edged and desperate body answered that knock by throwing open the door of your orgasm. You came like your own personal rapture, sending you first to hell and then to paradise as your body spasmed uncontrollably. Then, Rindou reincarnated you with a kiss to the cheek, and you were whole once again, staring into those velvet eyes.

“Well, it sounds like young love,” your mother says, and you nearly choke on a mushroom as her voice rips you violently from torrid daydreams. “Just remember that no matter how much you love this boy, you should never let him push you into doing something you don’t want. If he threatens to leave, let him. Benefit from my mistakes. Don’t go repeating them. Don’t ever make yourself small for a man.”

These words are delivered blithely as your mother pokes at the simmering pot with a chopstick. Yet she touches her wrinkling neck as if on reflex. You remember once staring up at then supple and unmarred skin with the uncomplicated, admiring gaze of an infant or small child. You were young when you came to see your mother as a tragic heroine, a sympathetic one sure, but one doomed by her narrow choices or maybe by the lessons learnt from her own mother and her grandmother before that. Because there was no shepherding hand to guide her away from unloving men, no strident lessons woman-to-woman about the need for her own money, to never empty her pockets with the trust that some man would fill them. When other girls went through the stage where they became hypercritical of their mothers, picking at faults and laughing at the sad repetitions in their lives, you continued to look at her with that child’s loving eyes. You drink up the words of concern and advice as if she delivers the scripture.

You feel pride in your relationship with Rindou as you can put your mom at ease without telling a single lie.

“The best thing about him, Mama, is I know he isn’t treating me like some easy thing. He never makes me feel silly or inconsequential. He shows me how important I am through his actions, but not just that, he lets me set the tone of things, too. He doesn’t push against my boundaries or pigeonhole me in some box set aside for a girl. I know that he wants me to feel important and safe when I’m with him. And I do.”

A few nights ago, you hooked a calf over his while lying in bd. Half a dozen pillows stacked behind you supported your chest, so you wound your sweaty, just-released lower bodies together. The sex had been intense but not too rough, and he had let you cum, so your brain was half way to shutting down for a deep sleep when you turned to look at him speculatively.

“I think we should come up with pet names for each other.”

Rindou cracked one eye open from where he lounged in his own post-sex haze. “You want me to call you more pet names?”

“We should have ones just for us.”

“Here’s an idea. You can call me Sir, and I’ll call you slut, whore, cocksleeve…I’m tired but I promise to come up with some more in the morning,” Rindou yawned.

You poked him in the side, right below his ribs where his chest hair ended.

“A pet name we can use in public.”

“I’m more than happy to call you a slut in public.”

“A cute one! Like…I’m thinking I could call you…Tanuki-chan,” you said.

Just like that you felt the full weight of Rindou’s attention as he rolled onto his side to stare you down. Rindou exclusively operated on one of two modes: inscrutable stoicism or searing intensity. As he weighed his new nickname, his observation carried the weight of the universe.

“Tanuki-chan?”

“Yes, I thought it fit because of the dark circles under your eye and your two-toned hair. Plus, it’s just cute!” you explained.

Rindou sighed, “Fine, but if you call me Tanuki-chan instead of Sir while we’re fucking, I’ll belt you.”

“Oh, good to know,” you murmured, like you just might try it. Rindou cursed under his breath, rolling over to serve you his back. The thick trapezius muscles there flexed, and a stirring lust rose in you that shouldn’t have been possible so soon after you last took him inside you. “Don’t go to sleep! You have to give me a nickname, too!’

No response came and soon after, you heard his grumbling snores. Only a little piqued, you followed him into sleep.

The next morning, you scrubbed your toothbrush – a second bought just to live on the sink in Rindou’s apartment – against the overnight scum on your teeth, when Rindou entered the bathroom, wrapped two arms around your waist and whispered in your ear.

“Good morning, Mozu-Mozu.”

Peppermint fluoride slipped precariously down your throat as you struggle to respond through a mouth full of toothpaste. “Where’d that come from?”

“You wanted a pet name, right? Well, I thought about it all night. Since you made me a tanuki, I wanted to go with an animal for you, too, and I couldn’t stop thinking you would be a bird because I love waking up to that beautiful voice in my ear. So, what better than the hundred songs bird?” Rindou said.

You spit in the sink.

“You stayed up all night thinking about that?”

“I took my time with it. Wanted to choose the right one.”

True to his word, Rindou slips Mozu into your texts and softer moments now, caressing the word with his tongue like it’s something sinful and secret just for your ears. No man has ever taken you half as seriously.

Your mother has nothing to worry about. Nothing.

Bicycles meander past the shop fronts barely faster than the pedestrians who lazily stroll the street. Shopping in Ginza is intimidating on a student’s budget. The names of the high-end brands fall clumsily off your tongue. Even the Japanese ones taste like a different language.

Hair hastily thrown back with a tie and sneakers tattered from stomping the streets on many a rainy day, you know you stand out in the boutique lingerie shop. The women manning the front of the store appear airbrushed. Poreless and unfairly tall, they tower in watch at the front of the store like Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades.

Akane – one of your closest university friends – flings yet another bra onto the pile in your waiting arms. You asked Akane to join you, yes, but the plan was simply to make a return and then visit the bookstore, not play her personal shopper as she tries on a hundred bras she could never hope to afford.

The lingerie set in your bag consists of a sheer teddy, bite-sized thong, and bra with crisscrossing straps all in the most delicate crème colors. When you wear the outfit, you look like a virginal sacrifice, all contradictions and enticement. But, the bra digs into your chest and leaves ugly red marks in its wake, so you decided to return it.

Rindou has gifted you more than a dozen similarly priced and fine outfits at this point. The gifts make you nervous as you were taught to never trust a man who trades in love for money, but you do trust in Rindou’s eyes when he sees you in a chosen negligee or strip of leather. Trust that these gifts are a treat for him, turning you into a feast for the eyes, rather than an attempt to own you with his wealth.

“Would I look cute in this, you think?” Akane questions, holding up a corset top and matching panties.

“Anyone would look good in that. You’d shouldn’t try it on though. Better not to know how good you would have looked in it,” you say.

“I could spoil myself just this once,” Akane wheedles, like any underwear, no matter how sexy, could be worth a full week’s worth of wages.”

Set on leaving your friend to her bad decisions, you mindlessly scroll Twitter, liking any post that remotely catches your eye. The jangle of the bell announces new customers entering the store. You hope the gorgeous shop attendants might stop staring you down if there are other customers to assist.

“Hey, isn’t that Rindou? Rindou!” Akane calls out, bumping you in the side. “Wait, but who is that?”

Excitement and exasperation compete as you turn to follow Akane’s pointing finger, figuring if Rindou is in a lingerie shop, it is to buy you yet another unnecessary pantie set. He looks particularly debonair, dressed for the office, in a turquoise three-piece suit and matching vest. The color sets off the garish purple of his hair nicely. He looks like the kind of man who can afford to shop in stores like this.

So too does the woman at his side.

Both of them notice you at the same time, following the call of Akane’s voice in the quiet store. Rindou wears a neutral mask, revealing no particular care in running into you out and about on a Wednesday afternoon. The woman at his side, on the other hand, looks genuinely interested.

You scan her up and down. The graceful arc of her body drops to an ironed skirt and towering high heels, everything obviously designer or at least expensively made. She wears her hair in a chignon that would take you an hour to get right, which frames a delicate neck. Tasteful makeup on an already beautiful face completes her daunting impression.

Unsure what to think of Rindou’s appearance with such a beautiful, far more sophisticated woman, you wave. Rindou barely reacts causing your stomach to flip over. Twice.

“Oh, wow, she’s really pretty,” Akane whispers.

“Are you good to try on this stuff alone? I’m going to go return this,” you say, shoving the stack of hangers at your friend. She doesn’t argue at all, eyes glued to the other woman.

As you approach, Rindou whispers something in the other woman’s ear. You watch eagle-eyed at the way his mouth nears her skin, how his breath dislodges a loose tendril of hair. They don’t touch, but their bodies are too close as they commune. Then, the woman struts off to browse a section of the store you already know contains high-end fetish wear.

Rindou turns his attention to you only when the other woman leaves his side. His face is blank.

“Hey, I um, didn’t expect to run into you here,” you greet him. Normally, you would kiss his cheek, nuzzle into his neck, unable to stand any physical space after time apart, but now you keep your distance. Rindou doesn’t reach for you either.

“Yeah, you don’t normally shop here,” Rindou says, voice low. His eyes scan over your head like he’s looking for something, or maybe he’s just avoiding looking at you.

“I just came here to make a return. That set with the teddy doesn’t fit. But then, Akane insisted on shopping around, so I’m keeping her company until she’s ready to leave. I keep telling her she can’t afford this place, but you know Akane,” you explain.

“You’ll have to tell me how it turns out later,” Rindou says.

“Right, yeah, and you’ll have to tell me about your friend.”

You deserve awards for the even tone you manage as you circle the question, like it isn’t driving you crazy to wonder why your lover is in a lingerie shop with an attractive woman. You can feign casual; you’ve done it before with other men. Granted, you didn’t love those men like you love Rindou, but your muscle memory is good as you affect perfect nonchalance, hand on your hip and reassuring smile on your face.

Or, more likely, you radiate awkwardness, but at least that’s better than jealousy and suspicion.

“Not much to tell,” Rindou shrugs, and you wish he would stop speaking before the next words even leave his mouth. “She’s one of the subs I’ve done scene work with for the last few years. She moved to Kobe, but she’s back in town for a bit, so I promised to spoil her for the day.”

“Spoil her? What does that entail?”

“Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow. It’s rude to keep her waiting, and you should go back to Akane,” Rindou says, and the clear dismissal of what you’re feeling somehow hurts worse than the awful, fantastical images that dance through your mind: Rindou zipping this woman into a naughty maid’s outfit, Rindou spanking her in the dressing room, Rindou kissing her with those red lips that should be yours.

“Cool.”

As you return to Akane, who does not argue at all when you insist you leave immediately, return completely forgotten, you don’t feel remotely cool. Not. At. All.

Over winter break, you and your university friends drank shochu until you reached a spectacular level of drunkenness. You swore lifelong loyalty to one another, crying at how thankful you were that fate tied you together in the same major. Somehow, a dirty napkin became the site of an official friendship contract that included provisions for favors. Things like, a friend must assist in helping one of the others move apartments given a week’s notice, or a friend must always pick up a fellow friend from the airport. More importantly, it included a clause instituting that all prior commitments short of finals and family funerals must be dropped if an emergency friend meeting is called.

Now definitely constitutes an emergency.

Two hours after Rindou blows you off in Ginza, you snuggle up beside all your friends on the couch in Akane’s apartment, tipsy on wine coolers and completely losing your mind.

“I say you just break up with him. He’s no good for you,” Naoto says for the dozenth time since he’s arrived.

“You should have seen her! She was freaking gorgeous, like I’d have wanted to hang her picture on my wall as a kid gorgeous,” you moan.

“I disagree. You are ten times cuter,” Akane lies.

“Cute? Cute?”

You stuff your face into a throw pillow and scream. All your friends trade concerned glances. Unsure what to do, they settle on pushing another wine cooler your way. You guzzle until your throat burns on the acidic drink.

“I think we’re jumping to conclusions, and you should give him a chance to explain. He said he was spoiling his ex-girlfriend, and yes, that does sound like he meant to buy her underwear, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see her in it! Maybe she has blackmail material on him. Or, maybe they broke up because he sees her as a sister? You should wait for him to explain tomorrow,” one of your friends, Tsumugi, offers.

Himeka, another friend, scoffs uncharitably. “No man buys underwear for a woman unless he intends to see her in it. Let’s get real. He’s a dog. I can’t believe I liked that cheater! I gave him half my scone at brunch!”

You skipped over the background info about doms and subs when regaling your friends with the story. You told them instead that the other woman was an ex-girlfriend rather than a scene partner. Much like you skated around the truth of your relationship with Rindou all this time.

“I mean, it’s not technically cheating,” you admit ruefully. “We never said we were exclusive. In fact, we basically said the opposite when we first started dating. I just thought…it’s been almost six months! Six months of seeing him like five days a week. How does he even have time to see other people? I sure don’t!”

“He probably doesn’t! Like you said, when would he even find the time? He probably just met up with this woman because of nostalgia or pity, and he’s going to realize he made a mistake and come crawling back. For sure,” Tsumugi says.

“Then, why hasn’t he texted? He knows the impression he left on her. He should be blowing up her phone right now. Besides, husbands find ways to cheat on their wives all the time, and they live together,” Himeka, ever the pessimist, insists.

“Akane, what do you think?” you ask, turning big, pleading eyes towards the only witness of today’s incident.

“I mean…it doesn’t look…good,” Akane stutters, face beet red as she delivers the death knell to your heart. “But like you said, you aren’t official. So, if you have a problem with him seeing other people, you should communicate that. I wouldn’t trust any guy to stick to one woman if he’s not even asked to. For all he knows, you’ve been seeing all kinds of university guys behind his back, too. So, you should communicate with him, and see what he says.”

“I wouldn’t need a woman to ask,” Naoto mutters. As the only guy in the room, he is tasked with bearing the burden of men everywhere.

The tick tock of the wall clock in Akane’s kitchen sounds like a countdown to your personal misery. Rindou promised to call tomorrow, and the anticipation blurs into anxiety. Tomorrow may well be the end of your relationship, and you don’t think you could bear that. But in the same vein, Akane could be right, so you should wish time brought your reconciliation even sooner.

You bite your fingernails as you think through your options.

“What do we even know about this guy? He knows everything about you, but he keeps you at arm’s length from his life. You’ve never met his friends or work colleagues, except for his brother that one time. For all you know he could have a harem of women all over Tokyo. And, you have to admit, he looks fishy. The neck tattoo? The money? The hair? He isn’t some upstanding citizen,” Naoto says heatedly.

“See, that’s your problem, Naoto,” Tsumugi says. “You’re a police officer now. You can’t go around with these discriminatory attitudes assuming anyone who dares to dress like an individual is a bad guy. I honestly expected more from you.”

The two argue back and forth for a few minutes, but their words don’t reach you. A self-defense mechanism slides into place. It empties your brain, protects you from any thoughts that may churn your guts. The wine coolers are doing a good enough job of that already.

“Enough! Nobody cares,” Himeka lectures them before turning to you with solemn eyes. “If you talk to him tomorrow, and he says, yes, I am seeing other women, and I’m going to keep seeing other women. There’s nothing you can do about it. What are you going to do?”

You want to evade the question, but Himeka’s narrow eyes follow yours, and stop you from fading into nothingness. It’s a good question, which is what makes it so uniquely cruel.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to break up if he is. I mean, you were okay not being exclusive before,” Akane points out.

“Wouldn’t that make me, I don’t know, pathetic?”

“It would only make you pathetic if you let him sleep around with as many women as he wants while you wait for him to call like a good little housewife. I say go out and have some fun of your own. You are young and smart and beautiful, and guys are going to line up to take you out. So, why not let them? That way, you’re even,” Akane advises.

The idea of someone else’s touching your body with foreign hands makes you shudder. Yet, Rindou shows no signs of the same revulsion. He can stomach a woman’s hand wandering down his chest, tracing his thighs, palming his cock, and who knows what else? Maybe he even lets them sleep in his apartment, curled up like true lovers, like the two of you. The thought sours the sweet wine in your mouth.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves. I just…need to talk to him. Yeah, I’ll communicate with him, and I’m sure everything will just work itself out. No reason to worry.”

Looking around the circle of sympathetic faces, not a single one of your friends looks like they believe it. And neither do you.

A/N: So be honest guys...am I completely evil?

“In order to induce the process of decay, water is necessary. I think that, in the case of women, men are water.” – Natsuo Kirino, Grotesque

“Is it not because women are so trusting that they are constantly being deceived by men?” – Natsume Sōseki, Kokoro

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou haitani #rindou smut #rindou x reader smut

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annabtg · 9 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love

Hey girl!! I think I did this quite recently, but here we go again!

1. Nom De Plume (WIP, currently 19.2k. Jily, no Voldemort AU, rated E.) SO MUCH WORK but I adore my writing in it!

James Potter, renowned potioneer, has a secret side career as an erotica writer under the pen name of Scarlett Goldwing. When his latest book starts to take off, and Scarlett is asked to promote it at a public event, he has no other option but to recruit his colleague Lily Evans to pretend to be Scarlett. The only problem is, Lily Evans hates his guts… or does she?

2. Are You Experienced? (12.6k, Jily, rated T.) Fun and fluffy, the fic I always dreamed I'd write one day!

James Potter decides to ask Lily Evans to a Muggle live music show. This noble mission, however, requires a series of steps he is entirely clueless about: from procuring the tickets to finding the correct outfit, and most importantly, to spending an evening with Lily Evans without making an absolute fool of himself.

3. My Best Friend's Girl (12.4k, Sirius/Lily to Jily, rated M.) A deeply personal story that always lives in the back of my mind.

Sirius Black and Lily Evans start dating during their sixth year at Hogwarts and their relationship is nothing short of perfect, to James Potter's silent suffering. However, things begin going downhill when next year, she is appointed Head Girl...

4. Her Favourite (1k, gen, rated G.) Short, introspective, bittersweet, poetic. Minerva McGonagall reminisces about her relationship with James Potter.

If Minerva McGonagall had a son, she would have wanted him to be like James Potter.

5. Inescapable (4.2k, Jily, rated T.) Loved doing the soulmates trope in this, and Jily slowly falling in love over the years ❤️

You’re born with two eye colours: one is your natural eye, and the other is the eye of your soulmate. When you meet, your eyes return to their natural state. One of them knows, the other doesn't. But whether they go with it or try to fight it, destiny always works out the way it was meant to.

Thanks for playing! ❤️❤️

#lovely athena #self rec

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lazywriter7 · 11 months

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Cap-Ironman Rec Week - Take A Chance On Me Sunday

I’m a firm believer that good writing and a long enough wordcount can sell me on anything... which is why this list was hard, because I read coffee shop and Hogwarts AUs to major character death, twice over. But I think we’ve come up with some fun stuff to rec nonetheless - Same old story. by orphan_account “We’re toasting our regrets,” Tony explains. “Your turn." “Oh,” Steve says. It takes him a long minute to think of something. Or, more likely, it takes him a long moment to work up the courage. But then he turns and raises his bottle to Tony. Looks him dead in the eyes, a sad, sort of wistful smile on his face, and says, “You.” Notes: On a list of era preferences, post-Endgame is usually not super high for me, and this fic is the Most Endgame. It’s compliant with Steve’s ending Endgame. And yet I enjoyed it so very much because it gave me a SteveTony ending without necessarily going back on their past loves and choices, it talks to regret without actually rewriting it, and I very, very much recommend it. such a devotion of the heart by drunkonwriting Persuasion AU. Tony is a disillusioned heir on the outs with his wealthy, spend-thrift father, trying to finish his master's degree so he can work on engineering instead of joining the House of Lords. When he has to return home to prepare his family house to be rented, he doesn’t expect the new tenants to be Bucky Barnes and his new wife - old friends of Tony’s spurned ex-fiancé, Captain Steve Rogers. Tony, still heart-broken over their falling out, has no intention of meeting Captain Rogers again if he can help it. Captain Rogers has other plans. Notes: I don’t always click on WIPs, which is mighty hypocritical of me, and Persuasion is... mumbles someofmyleastfavouriteAusten. This fic, however, does address some of the things I don’t always enjoy about the original plot, and the liveliness and detail in the writing and characterisation is more than worth it not being complete yet... so go and shower it with love! how much i’ve been touching you by isozyme Steve loves Tony, but not enough to listen about the SRA. He loves Sharon, but not enough to stop coming to Tony late at night. Notes: Oh boy. Infidelity is one of those very, very few tags I avoid, but I’ve loved all of this author’s other work, so gave this one a shot. It’s brutal, ugly and unpleasant, which is exactly the way I’m supposed to feel, and so very, very well done. The excellent prose - Rain sluices down Tony’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Every so often the wind shifts, and the downpour slams into the glass mid-fall like an open-handed slap. - accentuates every emotion the reader is meant to feel, so if you’re in the right mood for it, this is a highly impactful read. Childhood is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies by MemoryDragon Seven-year-old Tony Stark wakes up on a Hydra base, lost, afraid, and alone. He has to overcome his fears before it's too late for the Avengers and Captain America. Notes: Character de-aging is something that can be hit-or-miss for me, but this one is a classic. By the very nature of the premise and how much time Tony spends as a seven year old, it’s more pre-slash though Steve/Tony is tagged, but watching Steve and the Avengers match their expectations of who they think Tony is versus who they see in his younger self, makes for quite the satisfying read. The Time of the Season by WhenasInSilks Iron Man shuffles his feet and clears his throat in a burst of static. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. Doesn’t matter the reason.” For one wild moment Steve actually considers it. Surely if he can tell anyone, it’s Iron Man? Iron Man would never shrink away, would never laugh at him. But what could he possibly say? Actually, Shellhead, I just pulled myself off three times in the past hour and I was thinking about your boss the entire time. Actually, Shellhead, I’m a science experiment they let out of the lab too soon and I think I might be going out of my mind. Notes: This is another one of those WIPs that is completely worth the read and subscribe, because identity porn oh myy :D The author takes the secret identities of Tony Stark and Iron Man and pushes them to the farthest extremes, till it’s incredibly entertaining and somewhat disconcerting and the amount of sheer pining that exists in one room is surely enough to kill us all of delight. A Fool's Name For Fate by elise_509 It’s 1949. Hollywood’s system of powerful studios and contract stars is fading fast as a new decade looms. Tony Stark thinks he’s just the type of forward-thinking, madcap genius that can solve the dream factory’s woes, and maybe he can. If not for a certain distraction named Steve Rogers, the golden boy who should clearly be twenty-feet high on the silver screen yet seems determined to stay hidden behind the scenes. Tony’s used to getting what he wants, but now he’s not sure what that is. Or rather, who that is. Notes: More WIPs that deserve love! The premise is so captivating, and the writing even more so. I love the period it’s set in, I love how Tony and Steve fit into it and the roles they play, as well as the way they play off each other, and the sheer pleasure I got from the 70k words I gobbled down is definitely worth holding out for an ending. And that’s all for today. Go take a chance on reading something you normally wouldn’t!

#capimrecweek #stevetony #steve/tony #fic recs #steve rogers #tony stark

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assortedfruitsnacks212 · 2 years

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Worship The Flame - Ch 1 - Welcoming Party

Pairing | Billy Hargrove x El Hopper

Series summary | It's May 1989. After three years in California, Billy returns to Hawkins for Max's high school graduation. He thinks he'll find everything—and everyone—as he left them. Turns out time has moved on in Hawkins, too, and a certain "little girl" isn't so little anymore. Now that he's back, she's desperate to prove it to him. Too bad he swore he'll never fall for her. And if he does, there's no way her police chief father won't find out.

What to expect | angst, fluff, smut, romance, supernatural sci-fi weirdness, bouncing between past and present storylines, Mike/El vs Billy/El love triangle, El and Max friendship, Max playing matchmaker, El finally finding her own voice, Billy and Max covering the entire gamut of sibling interactions, Billy flipping between being soft and being an asshole as he tries to keep his shit together, Hopper playing the role of “father with shotgun,” Hopper-Byers and Hargrove-Mayfield family drama (but without Neil! yay!), the sensation of watching a car wreck in slow motion

Series warnings | angry fathers, explicit content (18+)

Chapter word count | 5k

Chapter summary | In May 1989, Billy shows up in Hawkins to find two special girls waiting for him.

Chapter warnings | none

Author’s notes | Intended as a sequel to my old draft of "Lost Boy."

When I had the idea for this fic in February 2020, I dropped EVERYTHING to write it. Couldn't help myself. Now the idea has grown into a full-fledged trilogy starting with "Lost Boy," and I'm rewriting the whole thing from scratch to reflect that.

It'll take years to finish. I'm treating the trilogy as a continuation of the show, with just one tweak: Billy survives Starcourt. Canon storylines continue around him; relationships grow, change, and break up; the Upside Down evolves, the Mind Flayer keeps trying to take over the world... It's a lot.

In the meantime, I thought I'd post my old draft of what is now the third story. I wrote it before I decided to bring in the Upside Down, etc., so it's basically a romance with a supernatural bent. Future drafts will be dramatically different.

Hope you enjoy!

P.S., if you're here to tell me what a “problematic ship” this is... don't :) El is eighteen, and to quote Max, "She doesn't need your protection."

Comments and reblogs are welcomed with open arms!

Tuesday, May 23, 1989

He thought he'd feel something more when he returned to Hawkins. A whole lot of anger, maybe. Hell, even tears. Stuff happened here that made him cry for the first time in eight years. If he was ever gonna cry again, this would be the place to do it.

Instead, he feels a whole lot of nothing. He cruises past the old turnoff to the high school without blinking. He doesn't even flinch at the sight of the road he used to take to get to Hopper's cabin. He just… doesn't feel anything. He's not sure if he should be proud, relieved, or concerned.

Blowing smoke out the window, Billy hooks his hand over the wheel. The sweet strains of Skid Row pour out of his stereo, streaming out the window along with the smoke. When he slams on the brakes for a left turn, the tires of the Camaro screech. Trees careen past him, and he can just imagine their mouths falling open as they murmur to each other.

That boy again? I thought we'd seen the last of him! Look at him still driving like a maniac.

Yep, he thinks, chewing on his cigarette. Billy Hargrove never changes.

Thankfully, Max is damn good at giving directions. Though she and Susan have lived in this house for three years now, he's only seen the place once, and that was at night. It's broad daylight now, golden and May-bright, and nothing looks the same.

When he makes the last left turn, pulling onto a sleepy neighborhood street, he slows down till the engine of the Camaro drops to a purr. Suddenly his stereo’s unbearably loud. He turns it down, scanning the cul-de-sac ahead.

Goddamn, he hates cul-de-sacs. Who the fuck ever thought they were a good idea.

He catches sight of their house on the right. It’s a modest affair, single-story, with an equally modest front lawn. He remembers the countless times he pulled up to the house here in Hawkins, the place where that man lived. Biting down hard on his cigarette, he grips the wheel.

No, he’s not gonna think about that now. Neil Hargrove is gone. Fucking gone.

As he drives up to the house, he sees Max sitting comfortably on the front lawn, leaning back on her hands. Her hair is down, glinting copper in the May sun, and she’s wearing jeans and a bright yellow shirt. Next to her, looking far less comfortable, is another girl with long brown hair.

Billy scowls. The fuck is that? Did Max really bring a stranger to meet him on his first day in Hawkins?

He pulls up to the curb and stops. Max gets up from the lawn, grinning. The other girl gets up too, and as she stands to her full height, hair tumbling past her shoulders, Billy’s heart hits his ribcage with a thud. He plucks his cigarette out of his mouth.

Holy fuck. No way. No fuckin’ way.

He stares for a second before he realizes he’s staring. Tearing his eyes away, he throws the car in park and switches off the engine. Its rumble disappears along with his music, leaving him in silence. He takes a deep breath.

It’s fine, he tells himself. It’s fine.

He unbuckles his seat belt and steps out of the car. Slamming the door behind him, he flicks his cigarette onto the pavement. With another breath—more shaky this time—he turns to meet the girls.

They’re already bounding toward him. Well, Max is. She’s approaching too, but more calmly, almost shyly.

Max squeals, flinging her arms open. “Billy!”

He forces a smile. “Hey!”

She throws her arms around him. Shutting his eyes, he wraps her in a hug and makes himself forget the other girl. This moment belongs to Max. She fought so hard to get him to come back, and he’s not gonna let anyone ruin that. Not even her.

Max squeezes him tightly. Soon she pulls away and swipes at a tear in her eye.

“It’s so good to see you, Billy. So good.”

Before he can respond, the other girl walks up. She’s smiling with soft red lips and looking at him with brown doe eyes. Her hands are clasped in front of her, tugging at the material of her light pink sweater, which exposes her right shoulder. As he notes the way her collarbone curves flirtatiously out of sight, Billy cringes.

Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“El,” he huffs, hoping he doesn’t sound as choked as he feels. “Jesus. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

And for good reason. With each passing second, he sees something else that’s changed about her. The long hair, with the top half pulled back, was just the most obvious thing. Aside from that, she’s gotten taller; her figure has filled out in a way that tugs at his gaze; large hoop earrings are dangling from her earlobes, and she’s wearing makeup. Makeup. Sure, it’s subtle, doing little more than highlighting her dark eyes. But boy, does it fucking highlight them. Her eyelashes are thick and black, and he could swear she’s wearing eyeliner.

She smiles shyly, but it doesn’t suggest fear. It seems more knowing, more deliberate, like she’s holding something back.

“Hi, Billy,” she says. Fuck, even her voice is different. Deeper.

His mouth goes bone dry. Her eyes are smoldering, and for the first time he notices they’re not plain brown. They’re golden too, catching and refracting the sunlight.

All at once, he realizes why she’s here. In the old days, he would’ve suspected a more fun motive like oh yay, Billy's coming to town, I want to see him. But with the way she’s looking at him—the way she said his name—he knows she’s here for another reason entirely.

She didn’t just want to see him. She wanted him to see her.

A jolt shoots through him, waking up his skin, making it tingle. He swallows, blinking rapidly.

Move the fuck on, Hargrove.

Flashing her a hesitant smile, he turns to Max, the nearest person who can get him out of this mess.

Because this is definitely a mess. He can feel it already. Two trains are speeding toward each other on the tracks, and he’s standing right in the fucking middle.

Seeing him get out of his Camaro was like witnessing the return of a young god. If El hadn't been sitting in the grass already, she would've fallen on her knees. He was just so golden, exactly the way she remembered him. And when he looked at her, it felt like a lightning bolt falling from the sky.

Now she’s standing in front of him, and she can scarcely breathe. How do you breathe in the presence of a god when his very energy sucks you in and crushes you into dust? You don’t. You just claw at your throat and beg for mercy with your eyes.

Upon closer look, she sees his appearance has changed in some ways. His scruff is darker. His hair falls a little differently, and something in his face seems harder, sadder. But other than that, he looks just the same. He’s wearing jeans and a grey tank top, the same kind of thing he wore three years ago. His hair is still long and curly. He’s still wearing an earring and his Virgin Mary necklace, and he still has those black brows and lashes she came to love.

The earring draws her attention the most. It’s a small hoop, the same one he wore in ‘85-86—or, at least, it’s similar enough that it might as well be.

Suddenly she’s fifteen years old again, and red hot terror streaks through her body. Her hand aches to grab Max’s and squeeze as hard as she can.

Please tell me I didn’t make a mistake coming here!

She can’t say that, obviously. But Max seems to hear her anyway. She glances between them, then turns to Billy and smiles brilliantly.

“Hey. How about we go inside? Mom wants to see you too.”

“She’s here?” Billy frowns. “Doesn’t she work till five or something?”

“Yeah, but she got off early today.”

“Huh.”

Watching Billy’s face, El holds back a frown of her own. Is it really so surprising that people want to see him? It shouldn’t be.

He notices. He glances at her, blue eyes bright under black eyelashes, and it’s too much. Breath hitching, she looks away, then trails behind Max and Billy as they go up the sidewalk to the house. She tries to keep her gaze down, tries not to watch the swell of his shoulders under his grey tank top. But she watches anyway, tensing like she’s about to be struck down.

I shouldn’t be here. The thought echoes with every step.

He can feel her behind him as they walk into the house. She radiates energy like a heat lamp in an Indiana winter, and it drives him to distraction, keeps his eyes unfocused. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, hoping the pain will shock him to attention, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps until he steps through the door.

The front door opens into a central living area with the kitchen on their left. In the kitchen, Susan’s pulling a covered platter out of the fridge. She looks up as they walk in.

“Billy, hi,” she says, smiling.

It throws him for a second. Her smile doesn’t seem too forced. Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he’d actually think she’s happy to see him.

“Hey, Susan,” he answers, strolling forward slowly.

This is always the worst part: figuring out if the person you’re greeting is a hugger. He and Susan never hugged in the old days. Not that she wasn’t interested in physical affection. She probably would’ve hugged him a lot if their relationship had been different. If he hadn’t been so fucking, murderously angry with her.

Now? He has no idea what to expect. Yeah, their relationship is at a high point, but given where they started, that’s not saying much. And yeah, he’s been gone three years, but they rarely spoke in those three years. The longest conversation they ever had was, “Hey, is Max home?” “I don’t know, let me check. No, she must be at Lucas’s.” “Okay, I’ll call back later.”

So do you hug this person? Billy can’t say. And for a moment, it looks like she can’t either. She just stands there, platter in hand, staring at him with wide eyes.

Then her posture relaxes. Setting the platter on the counter, she steps forward with an embarrassed smile, opening her arms.

Something growls inside Billy, the last remnant of the teenager who hated her guts. He shoves it down and steps forward to meet her. When she wraps her arms around him—gingerly, like she’d break him if she wasn’t careful—he makes himself wrap his arms around her too.

The hug lasts for two seconds at most. As soon as it’s over, she goes back to the platter, grabbing it like a shield, while he steps away toward Max.

Of course, his eyes have to land on the girl with long brown hair. And just like that, he remembers his problems extend far beyond Susan.

“How was the drive over?” Susan asks, tugging the plastic wrap off the platter.

“Oh, you know… boring,” Billy says. He moseys around the kitchen counter toward the dining table, away from Susan. Away from her.

“Well, that’s good. You never want a road trip to be too exciting.”

Aw, cute. Susan made a joke. Max and El laugh politely. Billy doesn’t.

“Um…” Susan slides the platter toward him. “I know you must be hungry, so help yourself. Just don’t eat too much, we’re having chicken for dinner.”

Billy checks the platter, which turns out to be a spread of meat and cheese. It looks damn good actually, but he’s not in the mood to eat. He can’t imagine trying to chew with a mouth this dry.

When he doesn’t say anything, Max jumps in. “How about I show you where you’re sleeping? And we can help you bring in your stuff?”

He wants to scowl at her. How much stuff do you think I brought? But he literally just got here, and he shouldn’t kick off his visit by antagonizing his sister.

“Sure.”

She turns to lead the way. As Billy follows, he crosses paths with El. They pull up short, and for the space of a single heartbeat he registers the pinkness of her cheeks, the way she gazes at him from under those thick eyelashes.

Then he steals a breath and strides forward, catching up to Max. His chest hammers like he barely avoided a head-on collision.

Max leads them to a door at the end of the hall. With a flourish, she pushes it open to reveal her room, much more decorated than it was the last time Billy saw it.

“You’re sleeping here,” she says, smirking. “Which means I get to sleep with Mom all week. So you better be thankful, dickweed.”

He walks in, not so much to see the space as to get away from the heat lamp at his back. As he looks around, he has to admit it’s a nice room—for a girl, anyway. The walls are yellow, of course, and decked out with posters. Her queen-sized bed is centered on the wall ahead of him, its headboard a stylish white wicker. To its left is a nightstand, and to its right is her dresser from the old house. On the wall to his left, he sees her old bookshelf with all her books and paraphernalia. In the center of that wall, white lace curtains waft in a breeze from the only window.

Not bad, he thinks. He’ll be comfortable here. The room even lifts his mood a little—until he remembers who else is with him. A thought stabs through his brain.

She'll know where I’m sleeping.

His gut twists in a mighty knot, sending a pulse of heat down his limbs. He sucks his teeth and keeps his back to the door, all too aware of the tension creeping into his shoulders. Can they see the muscles tightening as clearly as he feels it? God, he hopes not.

He turns to face them. Max has stepped into the room behind him. She hasn’t. She’s standing in the doorway, hand resting on the frame, and she’s watching him with the most scrumptious look in her brown doe eyes. Another pulse of heat swirls down his limbs, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous. He can’t help but think it. El’s gotten fucking gorgeous over the past three years. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, but it happened, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

“Is something wrong, Billy?”

He blinks and looks at Max. She’s staring at him with a frown and very, very perceptive eyes.

“Ah… no,” he says. “It’s fine. It’s a… it’s a good room.”

She raises her eyebrows, alerting him to just how dumb he sounded.

Shit. He has to pull himself together right fucking now. He takes a breath, glancing around the room one more time.

“I’ll, uh, get my stuff. It’s just a suitcase, so… don’t bother helping.”

With that dumbass announcement, he heads for the door. He expects El to scurry out of the way; that’s what people usually do when Billy Hargrove is barreling toward them. But she doesn’t. She just puts her back to the doorframe, angling her body enough to let him through, but no more than that.

He sees instantly that he’ll have to slide right past her. It almost makes him stop in his tracks. But Billy Hargrove doesn’t stop for anyone, and that means there’s only one option.

Angling his body to mirror hers, he braces for impact.

After her panic on the front lawn, El spent the next couple minutes mentally checked out. She barely even heard the things Billy and Mrs. Mayfield said to each other. She was too busy talking herself down, rehearsing all of the lessons she’d learned over the past year.

I belong here. I deserve this. I can have what I want.

To her surprise, it worked. When she and Billy nearly collided at the counter, she had the strength to look him right in the eye. Amazingly, he was the one to buckle. Visibly catching his breath, he rushed forward before she could even blink.

She warmed with pride. That’s right, he should be the one to run. She belongs here in Hawkins, meaning he’s the one entering her territory.

As he wandered into Max’s room, followed closely by Max herself, El stepped forward to the doorway, resting her hand on the frame. The wood seemed to pulsate under her touch, pushing its life and strength into her. She drew it in gladly, taking a slow, deep breath, as if inhaling the scent of a flower.

I deserve this.

Eventually, Billy said something about getting his stuff and started for the door. Years ago, she would’ve fallen back into the hallway.

Not today. Today she stayed in the doorway, staring right at him. He hesitated for an instant, but then he kept coming, turning his body to squeeze past her.

Now they’re so close they’re practically touching, and she holds still, letting it happen. He radiates body heat and the smell of cigarette smoke. His elbow brushes her sweater, and she thinks she sees him glance at her bare shoulder.

It makes her stomach flip. As he escapes through the doorway, retreating down the hall, she nearly grins.

He saw her. He actually saw her.

When she turns toward the bedroom, Max is smiling wickedly. Walking forward, Max winds an arm through hers.

“What did I tell you?” she whispers.

El can’t hold back her grin anymore. Face heating, she ducks her head.

Max giggles and jostles her playfully. Her delight is contagious, and El finds herself giggling too. After years of crying, it feels really good.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Max continues. “Don’t change a thing. I swear to God, I have never seen him stutter like that.”

Fuck, it was the best. It was the worst. She was so close he could feel her actual body heat. He caught a whiff of a scent too—something floral. As he slid past, his elbow brushed the soft material of her sweater above her belly. His gaze skimmed the flesh between her bare shoulder and her neck, and he imagined swooping in and nipping it with his teeth, just to hear what sound she’d make.

He didn't look straight at her, though. Hell no. That would've been fucking dangerous, like lightning striking dry grass.

By the time he stumbles out the door, his mind is reeling like it got sucker punched. The shock throbs through his body as he cuts across the lawn, stirring up old memories.

When he gets to the trunk of his car, he unlatches it and flings it up. He reaches in, grabs the handle of his suitcase, and stops. Head drooping, he shuts his eyes. Panic bubbles up inside, and with it, a hot wellspring of shame.

Fuck. He brings up a hand to cover his face. Fuck.

This is El. El. Four years ago, whenever she smiled, her canines poked out the way they do when the adult teeth have just grown in.

He takes a moment to breathe. Gradually, a cold resolve fills him, turning his body to stone. Opening his eyes, he yanks out his suitcase, then slams the trunk shut with a clang.

Three and a Half Years Ago November 1985

“No, El. No. The word ‘uneasy’ describes ‘dreams.’ You follow me? So it branches off of ‘dreams,’ like this.”

Snatching the pencil from her hand, Billy draws a slash under the line saying dreams, then scribbles the word uneasy. He looks up, gesturing at the page, only to see El staring down at it helplessly. Leaning back in her chair, she covers her face with both hands.

A knot of frustration twists in his gut. Gritting his teeth, he leans back too, propping his wrists on his head.

He glances out the kitchen window of the cabin. Hopper’s out there somewhere, busying himself with yardwork that doesn’t need to be done. Billy rolls his eyes.

Dammit, Hop. Has it really been that long since you diagrammed sentences?

They sit at the table in silence. El’s close to tears, he can tell. And he doesn’t blame her. Teachers always said he could ace this shit if he tried. But it’s still dumb and complicated. And this poor kid went years without real schooling.

He looks at her. She still has her face in her hands, and she’s breathing slowly as she fights for control. Taking his wrists off his head, he leans forward.

“Hey. Let’s take a break or something. Go get a drink of water. I’ll go out for a smoke. Just…”

He sighs. He drops his voice to a softer tone.

“Just don’t let it get to you so much, okay? It’s just homework. Screw it.”

“You don’t understand,” she mumbles through her hands.

“What?”

“I said you don’t understand,” she says, flinging her hands down. He sees she’s been crying. Her eyes are red, and her cheeks shine with tears.

“I’ll never get it,” she cries. “I’m too behind, Billy. I always will be.”

Aw, shit, El. Apparently they’re gonna have a heart to heart over the kitchen table.

He raises his eyebrows, studying her with a look he hopes is compassionate but firm. “That’s not true.”

She meets his gaze, sniffling, then looks down at the table. He folds his arms and sits back, rolling his tongue in his mouth.

He’s about to deliver some brutal honesty. Well... brutal for him.

“El. You’re a smart kid. Wicked smart. And the fact that you’ve gotten so far so fast… it’s amazing. I mean, look at this. You’re diagramming a sentence from–”

Wait, who is this guy? He checks the page.

“–f-from fuckin’ Kafka,” he stutters. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

“No,” she murmurs.

“It means you’re in the big leagues. Alright? This isn’t you swinging at a tee ball. You’re in a real game, and you’re fuckin’ playing. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She frowns. “What’s a tee ball?”

Christ. He keeps forgetting she doesn’t know things. He sighs and shifts in his chair.

“Look. All I’m saying is you should stop being so hard on yourself. Alright? You’re doing good work. Someday—someday, El—you’re going to catch up. And when you do, you’re gonna be brilliant. You hear me?”

She seems skeptical at first. She stares at him with a flat expression, her hands lifeless in her lap. But as they keep staring at each other, her expression melts until she's smiling. He smiles back, a weird warmth spreading through his chest.

"Okay." Clearing his throat, he stands up. "Um… get some water. I'll be back in a minute."

He passes her before she can get out of her seat. Pushing through the front door, he strides out onto the porch, where he lights a cigarette and glances around the yard. When he sees no sign of Hopper, a thought occurs to him, and he looks at the driveway.

Hopper's truck is gone too. Smirking, Billy shakes his head.

Idiot. He'll barrel straight into the mouth of hell for his daughter, but he won't stick around for English homework.

Present Day

Billy tucks into the meat and cheese platter after that. And even though he stuffs his face, blatantly disregarding Susan’s warning, he’s still starving once dinner comes around. As he sits down at the table next to Max—across from her—his mouth is watering like he never ate at all.

Dinner is roast chicken with sides of seasoned veggies. It’s a damn good spread, the kind he never gets around to making at home. He tackles it with so much gusto he barely talks. To his right, Susan looks at him as she eats, her face glowing.

Yeah, okay. You’re a good cook. Don’t let it go to your head.

Susan and Max carry on a conversation around him. El interjects every once in a while, but for the most part she doesn’t talk either. She just picks at her food and watches him eat.

He tries to ignore her. He looks at his plate, at Max, at Susan. Never at her. His efforts accomplish fuck-all. She won’t stop watching him with those brown doe eyes, and her bare shoulder—the one he imagined nipping with his teeth—seems to stare at him in accusation.

His body grows more and more tense. Finally he looks up, eyes hard, and meets her gaze. He takes a vicious bite of his drumstick, glaring at her as he chews.

Her eyes widen. Looking down at her plate, she stabs a string bean with her fork. He glares at her a beat longer before turning back to his food.

That’s right. Message fucking received.

Things get better immediately. She quits watching him so much, and when he finishes eating he’s able to start laughing and talking. It feels like a monkey fell off his shoulders and scampered away, and it’s a relief. A goddamn relief.

After dinner, they move to the living room for dessert and coffee, and they talk more. It’s actually kind of fun. He would never have expected that, not with Susan around. But… well. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Before long, he’s totally relaxed on the couch, legs spread open, wrists propped on his head.

El barely speaks. She’s sitting in the chair across from him, the physical outlier of the group. She’s resting her cheek on her hand, and she’s always chewing her lip, looking hazily at the floor. Occasionally she glances up at him, and their eyes meet. He gives her a cool stare each time.

Move the fuck on, Eleven Hopper. Do you hear me?

She seems to, as clearly as if he’d screamed it. As the evening passes, she wilts like a flower. Part of him writhes in discomfort over it, but it’s a small part. The rest of him stares at her as coolly as ever.

This is necessary. It’s for her own good.

Not long after sunset, Susan drifts out of the room. Her exit seems to stir El from her dark thoughts. She takes her head off her hand and rises slowly from her chair.

“I need to go home.”

“Aw.” Max stands up, going to El for a hug. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m tired.”

“Okay. You want me to drive you?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Feeling a prick of concern, Billy frowns. “You’re walking home in the dark?”

El pulls out of Max’s hug, giving him a surprised look. I always do, it says. Max turns to him with a far more impatient one.

“Uh, yeah. El has superpowers, remember?”

Oh, right. Good point. Still, as he shifts his gaze back to El—or rather, the dark-haired beauty that’s taken her place—an offer takes shape on his tongue. Let me drive you. It just feels like a good idea. After all, why tempt fate?

Then his breath catches, and he bites the words back. Jesus. In what reality would that be a good idea?

She’ll be fine. Like Max said: superpowers.

“Come on,” Max says. “I’ll walk you out.”

As they leave the living room, El glances back. “Bye, Billy,” she rasps.

“Bye,” he answers. Saying it feels wrong, and he has to swallow a knot in his throat.

They slip out the door. Exhaling heavily, Billy slumps into the couch, then digs in his pocket for his cigarettes.

Susan never liked it when he smoked indoors. Well, he didn’t give a fuck then, and he sure doesn’t give a fuck now.

Between El and Max, El’s the first one to walk out on the porch. Her eyes are stinging, her nostrils burning. When she hears the door close behind them, she turns, letting the porch light show her face.

Max takes one look and sighs.

“Oh, El.” She steps forward, drawing El into a hug. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just the first night. And we knew this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I know.”

El pulls back. Her first instinct is to wipe her eyes. She’s surprised to find her lashes are dry, and her cheeks too.

Max rests a hand on El’s arm. “Here’s what you’re going to do, okay? You’re going to go home. You’re going to get some sleep tonight. Then you’re gonna get up tomorrow morning and try again. No matter what, you keep. Trying. Understand?”

El nods. Max squeezes her arm, then puts her hands on her hips.

“In the meantime, I–” she waggles her eyebrows “–will work on him. I’m telling you, there’s something here, El. He just needs a little help. And I am such a helpful sister.”

Like before, her mood is contagious. El smiles, matching the impish glint in Max’s eyes with one of her own. She has to admit, scheming with Max is a lot of fun. It always has been.

“Now, you head home,” Max says. “And we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They hug again. This time it’s warm and lingering, and it gives El the strength she needs to back away from the porch.

“Bye,” she murmurs. Turning toward the darkness, she heads for the line of distant trees.

–

A/N | It only gets worse from here.

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Index

Chapter 2 >

#bileven #billy x el #billy x eleven #bileven fic #stranger things fic #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove #el hopper #jim hopper #max mayfield #mike wheeler #assortedfruitsnacks212

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