#(2) taking care of me and whatever mess i get into when he is home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

annwrites · 5 months

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exactly what he needs, pt. 2 ♡ ⋆｡˚

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & nate hang out in your room (after he snoops through it right in front of you), then ask each other questions, & he dresses & does your hair before you head out to spend the evening together.

— tags: conversing, getting to know one another

— tw: sexualization, lying (nate manipulating the truth), dollification

— word count: 6.2k

— a/n: I edited this numerous times, but fucked myself over by writing part 1 in present-tense to begin with, which I'm not always great at. So, if I messed up the tenses anywhere, please ignore it. Going forward, I'll probably be publishing further installments in past-tense.

Next post will be reader & Nate going shopping & having dinner!

The next morning when you wake, it only takes a few minutes for you to remember that Nate will be there in a little less than an hour, and the nerves immediately set in.

Surely people will see you getting out of his truck. What will they think?

You shake your head. It doesn't matter. Not really, anyway. You don't much care what any one person of the student population thinks of you.

You know high school is just a blip—a very brief moment in time, where it seems like every little thing you experience can be the end of the world, but it's really all just the beginning.

People will think whatever they like. It's not your job to try and change their minds. Not that trying to do as much would work anyway.

Once you've quickly showered, dressed, pulled your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your way, and eaten breakfast, you don't even have time to wait by the door as Nate's truck pulls up. You quickly pull on a pair of boots and step outside, locking the door behind you.

When you look up, your stomach does a flip when you see Nate holding the passenger-side door open for you.

You walk over to him. "You don't have to get my door for me, you know."

He shrugs, taking your backpack from you, setting it in the backseat with his. "I want to."

You tell him thank you as you climb inside and he shuts the door behind you.

Once you're on the road, he's the first to break the silence. "You can listen to whatever you want on the radio."

In truth, it's a bit too early for music for you. "I'm ok."

"Did you eat already?"

You nod. "I had a bowl of cereal."

He gives a slight frown. Not a very healthy start to your day. Something full of sugar.

"Do you want me to pick you up something on the way?"

Your eyes go wide. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you, though. It's nice of you to offer."

He decides tomorrow he's bringing you breakfast, and he won't be asking for permission beforehand.

You're both silent again for a moment and the truck slows as he pulls up to a red light. He briefly wonders if you know how to drive. If not, he'd be a more than willing teacher.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you something personal. If you do, just tell me to fuck off and you don't have to answer."

You look at him. "Ok..."

The light turns green and the truck picks up speed again. "I noticed neither of your parents were home yesterday. Were they both at work?"

You grow quiet for a moment, a pregnant pause settling between the two of you as you look out the window at the passing houses.

"My dad was...is. He travels a lot for work, so he's not home much."

He nods, deeming it good news, at least for him. "And your mom?"

You're quiet for even longer this time. Then, "I've never met her."

Minus Lexi, you've already divulged more to him in that short sentence than you have to anyone else at East Highland.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He's not sure that he means it. He despises both of his parents and, if anything, in this moment, is envious of you, due to your lack of relationship with both of yours.

You shrug. "It's fine."

He wants more than just 'it's fine'. He wants to know more, as it's clear it's something which bothers you. He wants you to give him emotional vulnerability for just a moment. Something he can use in the future to work his way in closer to you.

"Do you know anything about her?"

You shake your head. "My dad refuses to talk about her. After a few fights when I was younger where I tried to get him to, I gave up. It's probably for the best. She made her choice, and I think me knowing anything about her would just make things...more difficult. My life, I mean."

Even if you still felt like you were chasing shadows sometimes.

He nods. If nothing else, it's one less person he'll have to go through to be with you. Two less, from the sound of things.

Finally, he turns into the school parking lot, taking his usual spot and he shuts the truck off.

"I'll get your door for you," he states before getting out.

You unbuckle yourself, not sure what to think of his insistence with the whole door thing. It just doesn't seem to be something men much concern themselves with anymore—getting a girl's door for her—at least not teenage boys, that is. But perhaps he's different. Maybe it's just the way he was raised.

Nate opens your door and grabs his backpack, sliding it over his shoulders, then grabbing yours as well.

You get out and go to take it from him, but he continues holding it.

"Turn around."

Your brows furrow for a moment, but do as he's asked. You quickly realize what he's doing and adjust your arms as he slides your bag onto your back. He's really going the extra mile to be a gentleman, you think.

Once the truck's doors are closed and he's locked the vehicle, he places his hand against the small of your back as you walk into school together.

You look perfectly calm on the outside, but on the inside, your anxiety levels are rising with each pair of eyes turning your and Nate's way.

When you spot Lexi, the look on her face is nothing short of bewildered. Next to her sits Cassie, who's fuming.

You're torn away from looking in their direction by Nate coming to stand in front of you. "See you in third period."

You nod and give him a small smile, going to sit with Lexi, despite Cassie giving you that same glare from yesterday. A worse one, really.

"What the hell was that?" Lexi asks, her tone full of concern as you sit down beside her, setting your bag on the table.

"Nothing. He just drove me to school, that's all."

"And home," Cassie says, voice full of malice.

Lexi looks from her sister, then back to you. "The two of you are not hooking up."

You flush. "No. He just gave me a ride, that's all."

"Ok, but why would he do that? The two of you never talk. You're not even friends."

You do your best to ignore Cassie's unsettling stare.

"I'm just—" You immediately shut your mouth. You should've thought further ahead, should've thought about what excuse you would give people when they inevitably ask why the two of you are hanging out all of a sudden.

Nate asked you to keep it a secret and you aren't about to betray his confidence. If you do, you're sure he'll fail and never bother asking for help again.

"Just what?" Lexi prods.

"We're just hanging out. It's not a big deal. I promise."

Suddenly, Cassie stands, angrily grabbing her bag, jerking it off the table and storming away.

Lexi rolls her eyes. "Just ignore her. I don't know why she's still hung up on him, anyway. He treated her like crap." She shifts in her seat, facing fully toward you now. "What I can believe even less, however, is the fact you're giving him the time of day. He's an asshole. He was abusive toward Maddy and wanted to keep screwing Cassie so long as she kept it a secret. He uses people, Y/N."

Abusive? You knew he and Maddy had argued quite a bit, but nothing that severe.

"What do you mean by abusive?"

She shrugs. "I don't know much, since she and Cassie obviously aren't friends anymore. But I know a good portion of it, at least, was emotional. Maybe verbal, too. Then again, I don't think she was any better." Lexi glances behind you, and you don't dare turn around, now worried the subject of your conversation is who she's looking at. "She gives as good as she gets."

Once the school day is over and you go to drop off your books at your locker, you find Nate leaning up against it.

He smiles when he sees you and you give him a shy smile in return.

You put your things away, then look to Nate.

In truth, what Lexi told you had gotten to you a bit. You try to tell yourself that it's all nothing more than hearsay, and you're only tutoring—not dating him—so whatever had occurred between he and Maddy and Cassie is none of your concern.

"You ready?"

You nod, and, just like this morning, he places his hand firmly against your back.

Once you're in his truck, you notice Maddy staring at you today, just a few cars away. She and Kat are both looking in your direction, Maddy clearly getting worked up and Kat obviously trying to calm her down, and your eyes widen when she begins heading in Nate's direction.

Before she can reach him, however, he gets in the truck and pulls out of the lot, leaving her standing there, staring after the two of you.

You're glad whatever was about to happen has just been avoided.

Over the next week, you and Nate go to your house every day after school to study. You gradually get to know more about one another, like you learning he has a brother—which you'd somehow managed to forget over the years—and he tells you how passionate he is about personal fitness, something to which you don't much relate.

It'd been abundantly clear since day one that he dislikes his father. But that dislike—even if he talks about him very little—clearly, somewhere along the way, became loathing. It's all in the tone he uses, the language he uses when he's brought up.

But the thing that always seems to calm him—make him happier—is talking about you.

He asks you every question in the book: favorite food, color, flower, song, type of music, art, what you want to be when you graduate, the kind of house you want to live in. The list is endless.

And then the day came when he asked to see your room, with you standing awkwardly in the doorway as he surveys every inch.

He starts with your bed, your fluffy white comforter with small pink flowers printed across it, and your plethora of pillows. And then he notices the small brown teddy bear leaned back against said pillows. He briefly picks it up, smirking to himself, then looking at you.

“Do you sleep with this?”

Your face goes blood-red. “Y-yes.”

He studies it for a moment longer, making a mental note to one day buy you one himself, wanting you to sleep with one that’s come from him instead.

In truth, while you think about you sleeping with a stuffed animal as embarrassing—at least for another person to now know about—it’s a major fucking turn-on for him. You’re that innocent that you still sleep with a teddy.

He sets it back down, throwing a “that’s very sweet” your way before moving on to your bookshelves.

Not that he’s read or heard of the grand majority of the novels you have, he can tell by the titles and covers alone that they’re all either romance or fantasy. He supposes he understands that: you trying to escape through stories. Stories where you can go somewhere else, be someone else. Have a new family, new friends.

And then he thinks it incredibly sad—just how lonely you are.

It’s not like he isn’t already aware of it, because he is—has became more and more so as the last week has gone on. Everyday he’s come to your house it’s been empty. But to see your shelves crammed full of books—your one attempt at escaping into a better life—he vows in that moment to start working faster at bringing the two of you together into a relationship.

You need him.

You like stories about princesses trapped in towers and white knights coming to save them? Then that’s exactly what he’ll be for you. He’ll rescue you from the lonely hell you’re living in and give himself to you fully. He’ll dedicate all of his time that he can to you. And he plans to spoil you fucking rotten.

He looks over the various trinkets you have set on—and on top of—those shame shelves. Porcelain figurines of unicorns and cats, a small jeweled crown, some candles and a few faux plants.

He turns back to you. “Which one is your favorite?”

You shift nervously from one foot to the other. “The Lord of the Rings, actually. I…I really like Éowyn and Faramir’s story.”

He nods.

He’s never watched the movies, and has obviously never read the book, so he makes a mental note to at least do some reading on the characters you’ve mentioned to understand you better.

He then looks over your entertainment center and the small collection of DVDs you have alphabetically organized in one of the cubbies. Beauty and the Beast, Ever After, Stardust, The Last Unicorn, The Princess Bride, among a few others.

He then steps over to your closet and pulls the doors open without even asking your permission first.

You don’t much react to him doing so, supposing that everything in there you’ve worn to school at some point anyway.

He’s met with skirts and sweaters and dress blouses. Another thing he’s going to have to change—your wardrobe. It isn’t exactly “frumpy”, but it isn’t feminine enough for his taste, either. He wants your clothes to reflect who you truly are. Sun and baby doll dresses, and tennis skirts with the right pretty tops will suit you far better. Sandals and delicate flats. Your hair curled and actually down for once, perhaps with a bow in it. And he’ll buy you a few nice pieces of expensive jewelry as well. Maybe take you on a shopping trip to Tiffany one day.

He closes the doors in front of him.

What he really wants is to go through not just your bedside table, but also the top drawers of your dresser. He's curious if you've ventured into the territory of lingerie and sex-toys yet. And if so, what your preferences are.

He doesn't like to imagine you using more than a vibrator on your clit to get yourself to orgasm. As for lingerie, he doubts that you own any, but he often pictures you in lacy panties and pastel teddy nightgowns.

He adds such things to his mental shopping list of things to one day buy you.

Speaking of orgasms, however, he'd come thinking of you nearly every night for the past week.

He imagined you on his bed, naked, your pussy soaked for him, your legs spread wide as he teased you until you were begging for him to put himself inside of you.

He imagined all the things he'd teach you in bed, sure that you're inexperienced.

And only after you promised him that you're his—belonged to him and wanted no one and nothing else but him—did he finally join your two bodies together.

Finally, he sits on the edge of your bed. He then glances to the chair which hangs from the ceiling in the back left corner of your room, directly facing where he now sits.

You walk over, sitting in it.

He then lays back on your bed, feet still planted firmly on the floor, arms folded behind his head—God, he’s so tall.

“Do you not get lonely here?” He asks, turning his head to look at you.

You lift one of your socked-feet onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your bent knee. You shrug.

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Your brows furrow. “Do what?”

“Act like you being left alone all the time doesn’t matter. It matters; you matter.”

You remain quiet. Then, “I’m used to it. I like being alone.”

He refuses to believe that, knows it’s bullshit.

You’d only spent a week together, and only a little over an hour every day at that, but it’d not taken but a couple of days for you to—at times—talk his ear off. At one point, it’d nearly gotten on his last nerve, until his stomach dropped and heart broke when he realized why: how fucking long had it been since you’d had someone—anyone—to really talk to? Someone who bothered to truly listen? How long had you stayed silent, withdrawing further and further into yourself, until you’d built up an entire fantasy world within your mind and soul, which became your new reality?

And so he promised to himself—and mentally to you—that he’d never, even if it were true—tell you he doesn’t care what you have to say. He won’t be just one more person to hurt and let you down. Just like he knows you won’t be as much to him.

You’re good for him. He could tell as much from the first day he spoke to you.

He stares at you for a moment, making you squirm. “I don’t believe that.”

“Ok.” You don’t particularly feel like arguing. He can believe whatever he wishes.

He frowns. He dislikes that you don’t seem to much care what his opinion of you is. He supposes it’s a strange dichotomy. Going from Cassie who, it was all she cared about, to you, who clearly can’t care less.

“You’re really telling me that talking to barely anyone at school, except occasionally Lexi, and being alone in this house all the time doesn’t ever get to you?”

You shrug. “It’s just what I’m used to.”

In all the talking to him you’d done over the past week, all of it had been surface-level. About history or the new book you were reading, or something you’d read in a news article. None of it was actually truly about you.

If his plan to get in deeper with you—to know you like no other person on the planet does—is going to work, then you need to give him more.

“What if it wasn’t?”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs, looking up to the ceiling. “What if we started hanging out more often than just when we study after school? We could text or something, too.”

You appreciate his being concerned for you, you think it really kind of him. Even if makes you the least bit uncomfortable. You tell yourself it’s simply because it’s something you’re not used to: someone showing genuine concern for you.

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

He looks at you again. “You wouldn’t be. I like spending time with you.”

You’re not sure how to respond, so you just say thanks.

“I feel like for the last week I’ve done nothing but ask you questions about yourself. Is there anything you want to know about me?”

He’ll never admit it, but your lack of interest in him hurts his feelings. It makes him feel like you aren’t nearly as attracted to him as he is to you.

“I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He smirks. So that’s why. Always so fucking considerate; his sweet girl.

“You won’t.”

You think for a moment. The things you really want to ask him about are too personal this early on (even if you’d told yourself such things were none of your business, you can’t help wanting answers). Like why he despises his dad so much, and what happened with him and Maddy and Cassie. And what happened at that New Year’s party which landed him in the hospital?

You start smaller. “What made you want to play football?”

He considers giving you some bullshit answer—which will seem a plausible enough explanation—and giving you the actual truth. Finally, he decides on both. “It gives me something to do, for one. A reason to push myself harder. It gives me something to focus on. And football is a contact sport. So when I’m pissed off, I finally have something to take it out on.”

“Like when you’re angry with your dad?”

He grows silent.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

He shakes his head. “It’s ok. It’s not like I’ve exactly been subtle about my dislike of him.”

He doesn’t elaborate further than that.

“So…what’s your favorite color?”

He laughs. “I don’t know. Black, I guess.”

Somehow it seems fitting for him.

He looks at you, able to read you. “But that’s not the kind of question you want to be asking, is it?”

“I don’t want to overstep boundaries.”

He leans up on one elbow. “Then how about we make it fair? You ask me one actually personal question, and then I ask you one. And we both have to answer. No matter what. As soon as one of us refuses to, I head home.”

You think about it for a moment, worried about the sorts of things he may ask, but you have an out. “Deal.”

He smiles. “Alright, ladies first.”

“Will you tell me what happened during New Year’s?”

He sits up fully then. “Fezco smashed a bottle over my head, then beat me within an inch of my life. He got the upper hand immediately by doing what he did with the liquor bottle. He almost fucking killed me, all for a worthless druggy.”

Your brows furrow. “Who?”

“Rue went to him with some made-up story about me harassing her and some friend of hers online. When in reality I want nothing to do with her. So then he threatened to kill me and finally fucking tried to.”

“Why would she do something like that?” It feels like he isn’t giving you the whole story. He’s laid out the edges of a puzzle, but is withholding the middle.

He shrugs. “She’s a drug addict, how should I know?”

Before you can reply, can think of a polite way to say: so what’s the real story here, he takes his turn.

“How come we were never friends?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve known each other since we were five-years-old. We grew up together, have known each other for over a decade now. And only in the last week have we really finally talked, or spent any amount of time together.”

You lean back in your seat. “Well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean that fact has to serve as some prerequisite to becoming best friends or something. Sometimes people, even from a young age, just don’t click. You were always running around on the playground, playing sports with others. I was always sitting off to the side and reading or coloring or playing with toys. I guess you were just more outgoing than me.”

“You know what they say: opposites attract.”

You tell yourself he’s just referring to friendship.

He lays back again. “Well, it may’ve only taken eleven years, but we’re friends now. I just… I just wonder what things might’ve been like had it happened sooner.” He sighs, then, “Your turn again.”

To an extent, you wonder that, too. Mostly just what it would’ve been like to have a best friend for that long.

“What happened between you, Maddy, and Cassie?”

“Not going to give me an easy one, huh?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Me and Maddy had been together since sophomore year. I guess we just grew comfortable with one another, even if we weren’t always happy. Even if it wasn’t always healthy. It didn’t start out toxic. We were happy at first. For awhile. A long while. But she just…it was like she wasn’t pleased unless we were fighting and then making up.

“It was just a constant cycle of her beating me down, then trying to build me back up again through sex. She just…she made me feel like shit about myself. As both her boyfriend and a man. It was like it wasn’t bad enough: the shit I dealt with at home with my dad. She just had to become one more problem in my life that I was forced to deal with.

“I’d hoped that if I loved her hard enough, if I gave her enough, she’d love me back the way I wanted to be loved. The way I loved her. Turns out I was just a fucking idiot.”

Tears sting your eyes. You feel so sorry for him. To be so young and to have already known an emotionally abusive relationship was heartbreaking. It was one reason why you refused to date at such a young age. You were all too young to understand yourselves, nevermind another person. Not in the context of loving and taking care of them, at least. You all were barely even fully-formed people yet.

So that was what Lexi had been referring to before. Just like everything, there were always two sides.

“And Cassie?” You ask, softly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Just a giant fucking mistake. We first hooked up a couple weeks after Maddy and I had broken up…again. It happened on New Year’s Eve. I just…maybe I was trying to get even for what Maddy had done to me at the beginning of the school year—fucking a guy in the pool at McKay’s house—right in front of everyone.

"And then we hung out more, and at first I thought she was different. Maybe better for me. Until she started blowing up my phone with hundreds of calls and texts, screaming one night in my room about how crazy she was, how she’d never let me be with anyone else. How she was better for me than all the rest.”

Your brows raise. That unhinged? Cassie had always seemed so sweet and demure to you. But you’d also hardly ever been around her outside of school.

And dating—being in relationships—seemed to sometimes bring out the worst in people. Facets they themselves didn’t even know they had.

“I’m sorry, Nate. I never knew Cassie was so…” You trail off, until he fills in the rest for you.

“Psychotic?”

You laugh. “I wasn’t going to say it like that, but…” You shift legs, wrapping your arms around your other one now. “Your turn.”

He remains lying back, wanting this question to come off as something he’s casually asking. Whereas, in reality, he’ll be holding onto every word of your answer.

“Have you ever dated before?”

You feel like you suddenly want to use your out, but refrain. It’s a simple enough question, with a simple answer. “No.”

He looks over at you. “Never?”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh.”

His brows raise. He’d never known you to have a boyfriend before, but until recently he’d not exactly kept tabs on you.

It surprises him.

“Have you never kissed anyone or had sex?” He prays the answer to both is no. Also hopes you don’t cut his questioning you short.

You’re quiet for a moment, the two of you just staring at one another. Until, finally, you decide to answer. “No. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Not having done either of those things is a choice, just like having done them is as well.”

He sits up, hunching over to try and hide the erection he can feel forming.

No one has ever been inside of you—not in your mouth, not in your pussy, and not in your ass. Another pair of lips have never even touched your own, another tongue has never tasted you. Another pair of eyes has never explored your lovely naked body.

He wants to know what you do, then, to satiate yourself when the mood strikes. Do you rub at your clit until you come? Do you finger yourself—he wonders if your hymen is still intact? Do you bunch a pillow up between your legs, humping it until you've finished and the case is soaked? Or do you take and rub your teddy against your wet, needy pussy until you’re sore and can’t take it anymore?

God he wants to know what you fucking taste like. Wants to feel your fingers in his hair as he goes down on you. Needs to know what your perfect pussy feels like around his cock.

But he knows it’s too soon for any of that. For you, at least.

“That’s not something to be ashamed of. Not nowadays. You should be proud of yourself for having held out this long. I admire it.”

You shrug. “It’s not that hard to do.”

He smirks. “That’s because you’ve never done it before. Once you’ve been with someone in that way…giving up that kind of intimacy is difficult.”

You think any kind of intimacy must be hard to let go of after having it. Whether it’s emotional, intellectual, physical…sexual. Maybe it’s one more reason you keep most people at arm’s-length. If you never let anyone in, then you’ll never have to worry about losing them.

You clear your throat. “My turn.”

He lays back again.

“Can I ask about your dad?”

He flexes his jaw. “What about him?”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

There’s a long pause and then he finally sits up. “I guess it’s time for me to go.”

You plant both of your feet on the floor, now sitting on the edge of your swing-chair. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I was just curious. Since he always seems so…perfect, you hating him, I guess, is just a source of confusion for me. Then again, maybe that perfection is the source of it: your hate. I don’t know.”

“That’s part of it. But not all.” And that’s all the answer he’s willing to give you.

Letting onto his hate for his father in the first place was a mistake. But that loathing sometimes seeped out. And he feels like he can be honest with you. He trusts you. So, sometimes he lets go a little. That lid he keeps so tightly screwed slips loose sometimes in your presence.

He stands and you fill with guilt.

You’d gone too far. You’d known better—that asking about his father would end up being a mistake—but you’d brought him up anyway. And now you’d ruined the day.

“You really don’t have to leave. We can talk about something else?”

He pretends to consider that for a moment. When in reality, he’s all too-pleased that you’re so eager for him to stay.

Then, he steps over to you, standing in front of your seat, towering over you as you look up at him. He briefly thinks that this would be a perfect position for the both of you to be in as you take him into your mouth.

Then, he kneels down. One week was all it had taken for you to bring him to his knees.

He reaches up, grabbing either of the ropes the chair hangs from from on either side of you. “It’s Friday.”

You smile nervously. “That’s very observant of you.”

He smiles, letting out a small chuckle. “I just mean that it’s only four o’ clock; still early. We could go do something together.”

He begins to lightly swing you, just barely.

“Like what?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. I could take you to dinner, take you shopping. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, even if you just want to drive around.”

You don’t know how to respond to his offer. “You don’t have anywhere else you need to be?”

“Not at all.” He wants so desperately to touch you, but he sees you like a newborn fawn, easily frightened; skittish. So he refrains. For now at least.

You glance to the set of glass doors beside the two of you which lead into your backyard. At the sun still high in the sky and tree branches blowing lightly in the wind. And then you look back to Nate, seeing no good reason to waste such a beautiful day cooped up inside.

“Okay.”

He smiles. “Good.” He stands, offering you his hand.

You take it, doing the same. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to change again. Don’t really want to go out in sweats.”

He nods, going to leave, then stops by your closet. He pulls the doors open and you watch as he pulls out a light-pink sundress, then turns back to you, holding it out in your direction.

“You don’t have to wear it, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on you at school before. Just thought it might look nice.”

You gently take the dress from him.

He speaks before you can tell him no. “I’ll be waiting in the living room. Take your time.”

Once the door has shut behind him, you look down at the dress in your hands, then at the things you usually wear—the clothes you feel most comfortable in—beckoning you from your closet.

While you dress, Nate leans back on the couch, hoping you wear what he’s picked out for you. In truth, he wants to dress every inch of you. He wants to do your hair, your makeup—even if you never wear any. He wants to pick out a cute matching pair of lingerie for you—so only he knows what’s under your clothes—your shoes, your jewelry, even your perfume.

He isn’t sure why it means so much to him—perhaps it’s just another thing he feels the need to have control over. He wants you to look nice. He knows you’re capable of matching his ideal picture of what he wants you to be in his head.

When you finally emerge from your bedroom fifteen minutes later—you’d spent half of that time sitting on your bed considering putting the dress away—he’s left speechless.

You’d put on the dress, along with a cute pair of sandals, your toes already painted a pleasant shade of pink, which just so happens to match the item you’re now wearing. And between your breasts hangs a necklace.

You stand in the entryway awkwardly, one of your hands clutching your other arm. “I feel ridiculous,” you whisper, your face red.

He stands, coming to position himself in front of you. “You look beautiful.”

You’re surprised by his response. Wearing something which shows off so much of your body makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

You’d considered putting on a cardigan to cover your arms, but it’s almost ninety-degrees outside. So you decided against it.

He reaches around to the base of your ponytail, his thumb, index and middle finger gripping your hairband. “May I?” He asks, looking down at you.

You feel dumbstruck by the sensation of the base of your hair in his grip, so you just nod.

He gently pulls the band free, your hair falling over your shoulders and down your back, coming to rest just above your ass.

He’s never seen hair as long as yours before. Why the hell do you keep it up all the time?

He flexes his hand, the holder now firmly around his wrist and he reaches up with both of his hands, running his fingers through your soft hair, massaging your scalp as he styles it.

You just stare up at him, his face the picture of concentration as his fingers work against your head, through your long strands of hair. Your eyelids droop just a bit out of the feeling of relaxation that comes over you, goosebumps rising on your arms.

Nate takes note of that, as well as the quiet whimper in the back of your throat as his fingers brush against the base of your neck for just a moment. He likes that you like the way he’s touching you. He wants to know what other places his fingers and hands could explore that would get him similar results.

Finally, once he deems your hair presentable to his personal satisfaction, half of it falling down your back, the other half split evenly over both of your shoulders, he slips one hand into his pocket, the other coming to rest under your chin, making you look up at him again.

He feels blood rush to his cock at the flushed, lax look on your face as your hooded eyes stare up into his own.

“Why don’t you wear your hair down more often? It looks very pretty like this.”

“It gets in my way,” you state, your voice now having a dreamy quality to it.

He really likes you like this. All soft and submissive and dressed how he likes. He wants you wrapped around his finger sooner rather than later. Completely his in every single fucking way imaginable.

Today will be one step closer to getting that future.

He deems what you’ve said a good enough answer, but he knows you’ll have to get used to it. Your hair being down suits you far better than it being up.

He steps away, walking over to the door, holding it open for you.

Once you’ve locked it behind you, he holds open the passenger side door of his truck for you, same as always, shutting it firmly once you’re inside.

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x reader

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 6 months

Text

When the Levee Breaks pt.1

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you.

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone.

“Antsy?”

“No.”

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.”

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work.

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high.

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you.

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to.

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago.

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue.

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over.

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.”

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck.

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest.

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down.

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek.

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?”

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer.

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you.

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor.

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door.

“Yeah,” you exhale.

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.”

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.”

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart.

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly.

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.”

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction.

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it.

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there.

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully.

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.”

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.”

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued.

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you.

1971: the year you met.

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you.

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks.

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV.

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable.

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips.

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better.

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin.

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy.

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible.

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are.

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!”

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it.

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows.

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again.

“Down here!” you whisper-yell.

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa.

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it.

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.”

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily.

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair.

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours.

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful.

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it.

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all.

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so.

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.”

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him.

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it.

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand.

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…”

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be.

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.”

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek.

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.”

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back.

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended. Remus just hums in response.

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself.

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary.

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand.

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other.

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret.

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch.

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own.

“Do you?”

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it.

“About my crush.”

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back.

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?”

“Of course I did.”

“What happened?” he echoes.

“Nothing,” you confess.

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once.

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.”

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you.

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up.

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear.

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues.

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path.

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top.

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it.

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster.

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit.

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender.

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation.

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down.

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you.

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe.

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them.

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off.

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you.

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it.

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.”

“Other times?”

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you.

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.”

“I thought you were enjoying it.”

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random.

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick.

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid.

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes.

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours.

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state.

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him.

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face.

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…”

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile.

“I love you.”

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe.

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.”

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there.

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed.

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.”

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh.

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full.

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation.

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours.

“Ready, my sunshine?”

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus.

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours.

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there.

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry…

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him.

pt. 2!

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin smut #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #sirius black #james potter #marauders fluff #marauders smut #remus lupin oneshot #friends to lovers

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cloudwhisper23 · 3 months

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I'm too lazy to format, so if you want proper formatting on this, I've posted it on Ao3! This is a continuation from the last art trade I did with @pixlokita about their Werebunny Jeremy AU (we've decided to call it Cut Right Through Me)

Below the cut is the link to the story on Ao3, and the full part that I just completed! Fair warning, this is a pretty decent length, roughly 9k words. Enjoy!

“You’re mean, you know that?” Jeremy said irritably as he dropped into the passenger seat.

“I don’t care. He’s dangerous, Jeremy.”

“Dangerous, yet you apparently have been calling him,” Jeremy muttered, slouching in the chair.

“To find you! Speaking of, where were you this week?”

“Around.”

“Not home.” Ramona shot him a glare as she backed out of the driveway. “Which by the way, I went to your house. It’s an absolute mess. And you know how to get bloodstains out of things-“

“I was going to get to it.” Don’t mention Percy, please don’t remind me. Jeremy wished he was back in Michael’s house, still being interrogated for being there. It was much better than the absolute grilling he was getting from his sister.

“You’re lucky I helped clean up,” Ramona sniffed. “And you owe me for Percy’s vet bills, by the way. I know you’re a disaster on a regular basis, but whatever crisis you had will not get you out of your responsibilities mister.”

“Vet bills?” Jeremy echoed, flinching slightly when she mentioned Percy.

“Yeah, I had to take Percy to the vet. Some animal must’ve broken into your house after you ran off or something because he was hiding in your room scared out of his wits and covered in dried blood. He’ll be fine, but honestly. What could’ve been so important that you ran off and left Percy to fend for himself?”

“I didn’t know Percy survived,” Jeremy answered quietly.

“Well, you should’ve checked,” Ramona replied grimly. “He’s only still alive because I went to find you.”

“Yeah…” Jeremy pulled his shirt up over his head to bury the way his eyes were swimming. Everything was just too much for him right now. “Can you just- Can we go back to your house? I don’t think I can go home right now.”

“That’s where we’re headed,” Ramona answered gently. “I’m sorry to yell at you, Jer. I really am. I was just worried.”

“I know…” Jeremy rubbed his face into the soft fabric of the shirt. He wished he could’ve had a chance to apologize or make some kind of effort to befriend Michael before they’d abruptly left. “If it helps, I hardly remember anything from the last few days.”

“I noticed.” Ramona’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Hey, maybe we could go visit Becky for a bit. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I’m guessing you haven’t seen her lately either.”

“I can’t,” Jeremy said softly. He didn’t know when he’d transform again, and he couldn’t bear to have it happen around his family, not when he knew that Becky would dig straight for the cause of it, probably making him have to go through it longer than he wanted anyway. He wanted to have something for his friend to work with when he shared the problem.

Or maybe he wanted to handle something himself for once.

“Jer, are you sure? Not to push you or anything, but I’m probably going to head there at the end of the week. I was already planning the trip before you vanished, and now that you’re back-“

“I wouldn’t want to stop you from going,” Jeremy interrupted firmly. “I need to finish up some loose ends around here before I’d go. But if you could take Percy with you, I’d appreciate it.”

Maybe it would be best to just disappear. To be hunted and killed like the monster he was while Ramona was out of town. While she was safe.

“If you’re sure,” Ramona said, sounding hesitant still. “I’ll take Percy with me. I’m sure Becky misses him as much as he probably misses her.”

“Well, he is the son of her old dog. I’d be surprised if she didn’t miss him,” Jeremy answered, finally peeking out of his shirt.

“You’re such a big baby sometimes, Jeremy,” Ramona said softly, shaking his shoulder. “We’ll get you sorted out. Maybe find you a man to help you relieve your stress. You certainly need that-“

“Stop, stop. We’re not having this conversation-“

“If you just tried to have a relationship-“

“I thought you were all about not having a man to rely on for everything,” Jeremy countered.

“Well, I have different biases.”

“You only agreed because Becky said it first,” Jeremy accused, elbowing his sister.

“Hey, no assaulting the driver. Besides, I never said you have to rely on him for everything. Just… some things.”

“I’m less shallow than you,” Jeremy replied, huffing as he returned his gaze to the window.

“Oh, I doubt that. I saw the way you were eying up Michael. You wanted him,” Ramona teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m allowed to think a guy is hot, Mona! And he’s-“

“Just your type. Except I don’t think his personality is right for you. He’s too bitter, too grouchy. Not good enough for my little ball of sunshine.”

“I have four inches on you,” Jeremy argued.

“Not where it counts,” Ramona hummed in reply. “But seriously. I’m going to emphasize this, so pay attention. Don’t you dare go pining after Michael Afton.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I think you already burned that bridge too badly to rebuild.”

“Good. But if there’s still a silver of doubt in your mind, I’m going to update you on everything once we get home. That man has a bloody history.”

“So you’re calling him some kind of monster?” Jeremy scoffed. “Come on, he called you right away when he found me, didn’t he?”

“How do we know it was right away? Maybe he drugs people for kicks and-“

“Just because I don’t remember the last few days does not mean I don’t remember last night. And nothing happened! We didn’t have sex, I promise you.”

“Mhm,” Ramona sounded unconvinced. “If you say so.”

“I’m never going to get you to believe me on any of this stuff, am I?” Jeremy groaned hiding his face as it burned. He shouldn’t be thinking of Michael in that context, especially now. “You’re so mean to me.”

“I love you too, Jeremy.”

Jeremy went to take a nap when he got to his sister’s apartment, crashing immediately on the couch. He needed to fix his sleep for work later that night anyway.

Ramona dragged him away from his nap to give him a bunch of information about the background of Fazbear Entertainment, and the whole reason she was suspicious of Michael. Clearly, she wasn’t done with their earlier conversation. She really doesn’t believe that I’ll leave it alone, Jeremy thought to himself as she dropped a bunch of newspaper clippings into his lap.

“He killed his little brother, Jeremy.”

“Allegedly.” Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed as he skimmed the newspaper.

“And his father killed a bunch of kids back in 1985. At the same location you’ve been working at.”

“They never proved that,” Jeremy argued. He shoved the paper away, avoiding looking at the image of Evan Afton. The kid gave him an uneasy feeling.

“You can’t deny the evidence. Just because they weren’t convicted of murder doesn’t mean they didn’t kill anyone.”

That’s exactly what that’s supposed to mean, actually. Jeremy’s mouth thinned. He gave the newspapers back to his sister. “Okay, fine. Whatever.”

“Jeremy-“

“Can I please just take a nap in peace?” Jeremy begged. “I don’t need this extra stuff.”

Jeremy was glad to be able to get away again later that day. He knew his sleep was skewed, and he’d probably be exhausted for work, but he didn’t care. That was one thing he could rely on to be consistent. They’d be fine so long as he clocked in on time and clocked out. And if the animatronics caught him off guard, so be it.

He’d missed enough shifts already, and even without his uniform, he’d be fine going into work. Who was going to see him anyway?

He clocked in early, fiddling with his flashlight as he started his patrol. It was considered dumb to do things like this, he knew, but he hadn’t had any issues with walking around during his shift yet. And even if he did, he doubted the animatronics could do much to him anyway, now that he remembered the incident with Toy Bonnie.

The only real question was whether or not that golden bear would come back to kick him out again, but since Jeremy had never seen the bear before that time, he guessed it was a very rare occurrence thing that only happened if an animatronic was hurt or damaged. Then why wouldn’t it be protecting Mangle?

Shaking the weird thought out of his head, Jeremy stepped into Parts and Service, hoping he’d see the glint of his keys somewhere on the floor. Fritz usually forgot to lock up, and Jeremy had taken up the habit of locking up behind him. Since he’d lost his keys the last time he’d been in for a shift, he figured they’d be around somewhere.

He found himself out of luck. Sighing, Jeremy checked that all the old animatronics were still on the floor. Bonnie was still around, and with a twinge of guilt, Jeremy spotted Toy Bonnie’s mangled remains tucked between Bonnie’s torso and his arm. Best not to think too hard about that, Jeremy told himself, turning the beam to the rest of the room.

The faintest rustling noise had Jeremy immediately back on his guard. He turned to see a locker door falling open, revealing a golden suit. His grip on his flashlight tightened as he stared at the golden rabbit costume. It didn’t seem to move much more.

Maybe it was something they used during the day shifts? They were short a Bonnie after all. Still, a golden variation seemed odd as it was on the complete opposite end of the color spectrum from the other two Bonnie models Jeremy had seen.

He was almost tempted to look closer it at, but he knew better than to mess with the animatronics. Especially after his run-in with Toy Bonnie. He did not want to stir up the crazy bear thing again, no thank you.

Shaking his head, Jeremy turned back toward the door. Then he hesitated. The red light on the security camera was blinking at him. Who was in the security office?

Deciding to forget the rest of his early patrol for now, Jeremy made his way back to the office to see a very grumpy Michael shining a flashlight down the hall at him, a small boy also looking at him from a perch on top of the desk.

“Uh… hi?” That’s not Scott, Jeremy’s mind supplied. The realization hit him a moment later as he recognized the boy from Ramona’s newspaper clippings. Evan Afton.

His eyes seemed almost hypnotizing as he glared at Jeremy. “Huh. So you did survive then. Fancy that.”

“I… thanks?” Jeremy finished making his way into the office, weary of the kid on the desk. “Do I know you?”

Evan snorted. “Don’t be stupid. No.”

“Oh. Okay?”

Michael made an impatient noise. “Jeremy, don’t just stand in the doorway like a lost animatronic. Sit down if you’re going to bother me.”

“Right. Sorry.” Jeremy hurriedly went to sit down in the rusty folding chair next to Michael. “How did you know I’d be here?”

“I didn’t. That chair has just been here every shift I’ve worked,” Michael answered, checking through the cameras. “I can’t believe you’re insane enough to do that though.”

“Do what?”

“Go into Parts and Service. Cassidy doesn’t like it when people come in there,” Evan supplied. “Nobody’s supposed to go in there at night.”

“It’s part of my patrol,” Jeremy said defensively.

“You’re insane for doing a patrol in the first place!” Michael exclaimed. “I thought you’d broken in or something, and I was going to handle it, but Evan said that’s Cassidy’s job. Which, you had to be testing her patience with how long you stuck around in there.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“You should be.” Evan assessed him as Michael went back to focusing on the cameras. “I thought the rabbit thing killed you, you know.”

“Should I know what you’re talking about?” Jeremy asked, uncomfortable as the ghost boy studied him. He made Jeremy exceedingly uneasy, and he couldn’t describe why.

A helpful thought decided to interject for a moment, thankfully making him feel a little bit safer. Michael couldn’t have killed his brother. Otherwise, why would they be working together like this?

“Yeah.” Evan tossed a crumpled hat into Jeremy’s lap. “This is yours, right?”

Startled, Jeremy scrambled to catch it, seeing the black stains spotting the rim and front of his hat. Because it was his hat, the one he’d been wearing the last time he transformed. Battered and covered in black oil and whatever that other fluid was, his hat was mostly still intact.

“Where did you get this?” Jeremy asked, smoothing it out to shove it back over his head.

Amused, Evan let out another scoff. “Do you even have a brain? I lost half mine, and I can still connect the dots.”

“His sister is much quicker than he is, that’s for sure,” Michael replied before Jeremy could sputter out a reply.

“You guys are mean.” Jeremy crossed his arms with a pout.

“If you’re going to be here, you can check the hallway and the left vent.” Michael tapped his flashlight, ignoring his words.

“Right, yeah okay.” Jeremy shone the beam of his flashlight down the hallway. “So, what? You’ve just been in the pizzeria the entire time?”

“Yeeep,” Evan answered, leaning across the desk to change the camera and wind the music box. “Most don’t usually live to see the sunrise after they’ve seen me though.”

“Lucky them,” Michael muttered, pulling the camera monitor out of his brother’s reach. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a big grouch,” Evan retorted. He peered into the left vent. “Eugh, that stupid balloon kid is here. Scram!” His shout made whatever was in the vent squeal and scramble away.

Jeremy blinked. “So the animatronics are just scared of you?”

“Not all of them.” Evan answered with a meaningful look at the camera. “Just the insignificant ones.”

“Which translates to, all of them except the Puppet,” Michael added.

“I don’t scare Cassidy.”

“Cassidy’s not an animatronic, Evan.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Evan sighed. “She hates me.”

“I still doubt that.” Michael clicked to the Parts and Service camera, frowning. “You didn’t touch anything while you were back there, did you?”

“Not a thing. I was hoping to find my keys, but-“ Jeremy yelped as Evan tossed a set of keys at him. His flashlight crashed to the ground as he scrambled to catch them before they hit him. “Oh. Thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” Evan peered at the camera his brother was looking at. “You’re sure you didn’t touch anything?”

“I didn’t!” Jeremy protested, even as both brothers looked at him suspiciously. “I was tempted to touch the yellow rabbit guy when he fell out of that locker, but I didn’t, I promise.”

“Yellow rabbit?” Evan’s eyebrows scrunched. “I’ll be right back.”

Michael seemed worried too, his own mouth tightening into a thin line.

“What’s the deal with the… yellow rabbit?” Jeremy ventured to ask.

“Don’t worry about it I’m guessing you must not have seen him the night he was in here. Were you attacked by Toy Bonnie or something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy chuckled nervously, his spine prickling as he realized that they were probably talking about him. “But I can’t say I’ve seen any yellow rabbits before today.”

“Weird. Evan said he and Cassidy scared it off the last time.” Michael frowned deeper. “It crammed itself into a locker?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But it was in a locker. I thought it was an animatronic though.”

“It is,” Michael supplied stiffly. “But it’s harmless. It shouldn’t be able to move at all.

“…” Jeremy opened his mouth to ask another question, but he didn’t know how to phrase it.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? Evan’s got it handled,” Michael replied sharply. “Just keep checking the vents.”

“Right, got it.” Jeremy retrieved his flashlight. “You seem to have a bad experience with it.”

“I guess you could say that,” Michael answered shortly. “And you really never saw it when Toy Bonnie attacked you?”

“Uh, nope. I remember working on my shift and then waking up naked in your house. That’s… about it…” Jeremy lied awkwardly.

“Hmm…” Michael didn’t seem too sure about that, but he let it go. “So you didn’t see the giant golden bunny in my house either?”

“Nope!” Jeremy scratched his neck nervously. “Do you think it was the same one Evan was worried about?”

“Can’t be,” Michael replied. “The one I saw was a literal rabbit. This one is animatronic. There’s no way those two are the same thing.”

“I suppose not.” Jeremy shrugged, regretting holding up this conversation. “You seem… less grouchy than earlier.”

Michael turned to Jeremy wearily. “I had a rough morning.”

“Yeah, no, I get that. I just… I wanted to apologize for my sister’s behavior this morning.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “And um. I was wondering if, like, there was a way to sort things out?”

“Oh, you mean about borrowing my clothes? Don’t even sweat it, I don’t need them back.” Michael returned his focus to his work.

“I know Ramona can be awful sometimes-“

“I don’t care about that, Jeremy.” Michael finally gave him proper eye contact, shooting a jolt up Jeremy’s spine. Damn, that was hot. “I don’t care that your sister thinks I’m a killer, or that she thinks my father is also a killer. I couldn’t care less, because she’s right.”

“Oh.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, surprised. “Who did you…?”

“Evan. My baby brother.” Michael turned away again, his voice leaving no room to continue the conversation. Jeremy struggled to find a way to resume it, but he couldn’t.

It was all too comforting when Evan reappeared to confirm that Jeremy hadn’t touched the suit.

“Cassidy can’t figure out why it would have moved,” Evan said, peering at the camera suspiciously. “Music box.”

“Stop telling me what to do,” Michael grumbled, but he wound the music box.

“Hey, so how did you die?” Jeremy asked, even though he knew the answer.

Evan raised a surprised eyebrow at him. “That’s such a brash question to ask a nine-year-old.”

“Yeah, but depending on how long you’ve been dead, technically you aren’t nine anymore.”

“Leave him alone,” Michael growled.

“You don’t need to coddle me, Mikey.” Evan rolled his eyes. “What year is it?”

“1987,” Jeremy supplied, pretending to be less afraid of the way Michael was glaring at him. He checked the hallway with his vent to try to divert attention. “It is November.”

“So I’ve been dead for like four years then. My dad killed me.”

“He did?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow at Michael, who scowled.

“He’s lying to you. I was the one who killed him.”

“The accident was an accident,” Evan argued. “You’re not a murderer, Mike.”

“I’m close enough to one,” he shot back.

“So wait, why would you say your father killed you?”

“Because he did.” Evan crossed his legs and peered at Jeremy. “I see why the others like you so much.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“You’re so…” Evan snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word. “Honest. Genuine. Something like that.”

“Candid, maybe?” Jeremy offered.

Michael made an irritated noise as Evan brightened. “That’s the word! Yeah, you’re just so candid and blunt about everything. It’s refreshing. No handholding or coddling.”

“I don’t coddle you more than you try to coddle me,” Michael grumbled.

“Anyway,” Evan shot a pointed look at his brother. “What actually happened was Mikey tried to play a prank on me regarding Fredbear. One of the animatronics of the original diner.” When Jeremy looked confused, Evan elaborated. “The first place wasn’t Freddy’s. Our father and Uncle Henry opened the business as Fredbear’s Family Diner. There were two original animatronics. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.”

Michael made an impatient noise. “I stuck him in Fredbear’s mouth, and the bloody bear bit down on his head. It was my fault.”

“Your fault I was in the hospital, but not your fault I died,” Evan countered. “Michael was all about apologizing, promising to be a better brother if I just woke up. But when Father came to visit, he told me that this attention-seeking was ridiculous, that I should just open my eyes so the bad press would go away.”

Evan’s tone grew quieter, and even Michael paused, his expression softening. “He said that if I didn’t get up, I didn’t deserve to live. And then I was in the suit, with only Fredbear to keep me company.”

That’s the golden bear then, Jeremy thought. “So, your father is your killer?”

“Not just mine. All the missing kids too.” Evan shrugged. “We’d tear him to pieces if we could find him, but there’s only so many hours ghosts are awake.”

“Presumably only during this shift,” Michael added. “I don’t think Phil ever mentioned the haunted animatronics, and Ramona only mentioned rumors about them.”

Evan and Michael both didn’t seem very inclined to speak much after that. Michael did try to stop him when he went for his next patrol, but he didn’t care too much. The patrol was something he’d always done, and just because he was sharing a shift with someone in the office now didn’t mean he was going to stop doing it. It just gave him a longer time limit.

Maybe at some point he could ask about this mysterious ‘Cassidy’ that Evan kept mentioning. But for now, he checked corners and looked in the camera blind spots, knowing that most didn’t ever bother to check. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica didn’t seem too interested in leaving the stage tonight, which Jeremy was grateful for. The Puppet was sealed away, the music box wound tightly to keep the music playing.

And he remembered Evan’s words about Cassidy preferring to have people stay out of Parts and Service. Instead of entering the room, he just whispered at the door, “I’m trusting you to have everything handled in there Cassidy.”

A cold feeling enveloped him, and he shuddered as he walked away. It was weird to miss Mangle on a shift, but he supposed they wouldn’t come around while Evan was guarding the office. He checked the back door quickly to ensure it was locked and was glad to find that Michael had indeed locked it behind him.

“I wish I could complain about the job you’re doing here, but it seems to be fantastic,” Jeremy said with a sigh as he plopped back into his chair.

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, the constant frown relenting slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got the door locked and everything. Better than Fritz does, anyway.”

“Door was already locked when I got here,” Michael said. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

Huh. Interesting. Jeremy was curious about Michael’s sense of humor though, so he poked a little more. “Of course, I can’t really give you all the credit, since it seems that Evan and Cassidy are the ones who are actually in charge around here. They just tolerate you.”

Evan snorted at that, covering his mouth as Michael’s expression returned to a scowl. “I don’t know that you can say you’ve been doing much either, Jeremy.”

“I’m not claiming to. But the animatronics like me, according to Evan, so I have a one-up on you.”

Michael shook his head, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

The rest of the night passed in somewhat stiff silence.

“See you tomorrow night, I guess. Fitzgerald.” Michael rose, offering a hand for Jeremy to shake.

“Same to you, dude.” Jeremy shook his hand cheerily, trying not to visibly wince as Michael crushed his hand in the shake. “Until next time, Afton-“

As soon as he started to say the last word, Michael shoved him back against the wall, covering his mouth. A thrill ran through Jeremy as pain shot up his back. He couldn’t help a startled whimper as Michael glared at him with icy blue eyes.

“Never call me that. Understand? Never.”

“I… I understand! Yep! Never going to call you that ever again, never ever!” Jeremy chirped back, knowing his enthusiasm was way more than the situation required.

“It’s Schmidt. Michael Schmidt.”

“Then… I’ll see you tonight, Schmidt.”

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling a stick of gum from his pocket to start chewing it before he walked out of the security office. Evan had disappeared somewhere around 5, so Jeremy remained to tidy up a tiny bit before walking out to his car.

Michael was still on the sidewalk, presumably going to walk home, and Jeremy did not accept that he was just going to be walking in the chilly air in only his work uniform. He drove alongside Michael, rolling down his window. “Need a ride home?”

“No.” Michael kept walking, not even glancing at the car. “I’m used to walking everywhere.”

“You could catch a cold!” Jeremy protested.

“Good thing I��m not the only one on shift then,” he shot back, blowing a bubble with his gum. “Go home, Fitzgerald.”

“Alright fine. But if you get sick, I’m going to say ‘I told you so.’”

“I’m so terrified of the threat,” Michael replied sarcastically. “Goodbye.”

Rude, Jeremy thought with mild annoyance. But this was progress from last time! Last time, Michael hadn’t had much to say except “fuck off,” so at least Jeremy got through it this time without that. And he’d also gotten information that Ramona hadn’t had, which meant she was wrong about Michael Afton.

“So ghosts are real?” Ramona pressed as Jeremy hung up the phone after receiving a call from his friend Sebastian.

He was so lucky Seb was willing to give him a discount, so lucky he was willing to do repairs without questioning things. Jeremy had already gotten rid of the couch and burned his old sheets. The last step to making the whole rabbit nightmare a forgotten memory was the torn flooring.

“Yeah. And Evan has a much better sense of humor than his brother.” Jeremy shot his sister a skeptical look. “You’re not surprised by anything else I said?”

“Like what? The kid forgiving his older brother? You said he was like nine?”

Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that. She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t feel like she was completely right either. “But-“

“Jer, you’re being dumb about all this. You need to think with your brain at least some of the time.”

“I am using my brain! I was asking all the questions I needed answers to.”

“Yeah? Then why are you still so blatantly defending Michael Afton?”

Because if he’s a monster, then so am I, Jeremy thought to himself, but he didn’t say it out loud. “Forget it.”

“Jeremy-“

“No, it’s not worth arguing about. But Evan gave me back my keys.” Jeremy stood up moodily. “It was nice talking with you, Ramona, but I gotta get some sleep before tonight’s shift.”

“Jer, what’s bothering you? You know you can tell me about it, right?” Ramona pressed.

“I know. I just don’t feel like getting into it right now. That’s all. Have a good day, Mona.”

“You too, Jer.” Ramona hesitated for another moment. “I’m here for you, if you need anything.”

“I know.”

Ramona shot him a worried look as she got through the door, careful to avoid catching her pants on the splintered wood that Sebastian was going to replace.

After his sister left, Jeremy stripped, unsure of what triggered him to turn into the rabbit. He didn’t want to ruin clothes that didn’t belong to him though, so he wasn’t taking chances as he went to rest properly for the first time in ages.

Michael let himself back into his house with a heavy sigh. That shift had been long. He undid his tie, ignoring the impatient meowing at his feet while he changed out of his work clothes. “Give me some time, Logan.”

Logan meowed again, pawing at his empty bowl.

“One second, Logan.” Michael pulled a new shirt over his head before giving the cat a scratch behind his ear. “I’ll get that bowl filled in no time.”

After feeding Logan, Michael was tempted to go out and look for the bunny again. Surely it couldn’t have gone far, right? Even if it had been gone for a day, maybe it was just hungry and hunting. Maybe it had tried to return while Michael was gone and couldn’t get back in. Maybe-

You’re overthinking this. God, you are such a freak Michael. Michael shook his head, walking toward the place where he’d last seen the rabbit. Maybe the dumpster was its home?

His hopefulness diminished as he approached the dumpster. He couldn’t see any sign of it anyway. Shoulders slumping, he prepared to walk back, so he could let Logan have his own walk.

A soft thumb behind him made him hesitate though. Michael turned, excitement growing as he saw the giant shape of the golden rabbit who’d appeared very suddenly. “There you are!” Michael exclaimed, beaming as he reached out for the bunny.

His new friend nuzzled into his hand immediately, rubbing its fluffy face against his hand. “I missed you buddy,” Michael whispered into the overwhelmingly soft fur.

A soft rumble in the bunny’s throat soothed him, making all the irritation and torment from the last day completely vanishing. “You can’t just disappear on me, you know,” Michael said, trying for a scolding tone.

The bunny thumped his back foot as a reply.

“What? Are you going to say you didn’t miss me? Because I think you’d be lying.”

The bunny nosed at his neck. A soft, wet feeling made Michael’s neck prickle in the cold.

“Is that a way of saying you did miss me?” Michael asked, scratching up behind the rabbit’s ear.

He stumbled a bit as the rabbit rocked forward, knocking him off-balance a little bit. The rabbit kept nuzzling him until he was completely knocked to the ground. Startled, he didn’t even attempt to get up before he was completely enveloped in soft, warm, golden fur.

“Hey, hang on a sec-“ Michael tried to protest before the bunny squished its head down over his, keeping him even more safely enveloped in warmth. “I need to let Logan out for a bit! You’re going to make it so a poor little kitty can’t stretch his legs, is that what you want?”

A grumbling noise resonated in the back of the bunny’s throat, but it let Michael get to his feet. “Thank you.”

Michael walked back, knowing that the bunny was going to follow him back this time. He didn’t even need to stress about it. Michael grabbed his mail from the box on his way back into the house, tossing the pile onto his table before shaking the harness to get Logan to come running.

“Time for your walk, you crazy cat,” Michael said, pretending to ignore the rabbit who’d opted to lurk on the front lawn instead of coming in this time. Maybe it likes to be free to roam, he thought to himself.

Logan was happy enough to take his walk, purring as they returned. Shortly after Michael walked through the door and started undoing Logan’s harness, the rabbit wriggled into the house, looming behind Michael.

After he’d shut the door, Michael let out a big yawn, rubbing his eyes briefly. Gotta check the mail first, he scolded himself as he yawned again.

Glancing at the top of the stack, Michael felt himself pale. It was another letter from his father, this time marked as urgent. He hadn’t even opened the last one, and now he was getting another? Michael was just grateful his father didn’t know his phone number, but then actual horror struck him. He could just come to my house.

Michael twitched, grabbing the letter so tightly the edges crinkled. With a solid grip, he ripped the envelope and the contents in half. The rabbit flinched, clearly not expecting such a violent action. Logan was unaffected, as usual.

He tossed the torn remains into his trash bin and stalked to his bedroom, trying so hard not to start trembling or crying. The bunny nudged the door open and sniffed at the edge of his bed. Michael patted the side of his bed, giving it permission to jump up. The bunny took the permission easily, pressing comforting warmth into Michael’s back as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

“Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Michael sobbed quietly. “It’s bad enough knowing that I did something monstrous, but he does it on purpose. I bet he’s out there doing it to some other poor kids now, and I’m just not strong enough to stand up to him.”

The bunny rumbled out a growl at the blame Michael placed on himself, but it still soothed his pain with soft fur. He rolled over and buried his face properly into the fur, his fingers tangling into the strands. So soft, he thought to himself, tears dampening the fur of the bunny’s chest.

Not that it seemed to mind, pulling Michael closer as he started drifting off to sleep. “I just don’t get it…” Michael trailed off, finally relaxing enough to let go of consciousness.

Jeremy woke up with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Michael. Why am I not surprised? he thought to himself, carefully untangling himself from his sleeping coworker. He’d kill me if he knew I was here.

Unease sank into Jeremy as he realized he was yet again left to try to sneak out without clothing. But at least he was in Michael’s room this time, and he could just grab clothes without getting caught.

His foot hit something soft and warm, and a disgruntled meow made Jeremy realize the cat was also here. Oh shit. Directing a glare at the cat, Jeremy climbed out of the bed without causing the cat or Michael to wake up completely. The black cat nestled back into his paws, purring loudly as Jeremy snuck a new pair of clothing out of Michael’s drawer.

He left quickly, pushing open a window and crawling out of it, ignoring the pain that shot through his feet as he landed on rocks. Jeremy glanced around before hurrying toward his house, memorizing the address as he left the place.

He felt bad for ditching, but he also knew he could not just stay after all that. Not after how upset Michael had seemed the first time. Until he could control when he turned into a rabbit and maybe stay as a rabbit when around Michael, then he wasn’t taking any chances.

Back home, Jeremy slipped socks onto his feet and glanced at the time. He had plenty of time to spare before work, but he still couldn’t help but feel a bit antsy. I’m not supposed to know where he lives, Jeremy thought glumly.

The phone ringing pulled Jeremy away from spiraling in his obsession. Maybe Ramona was right about all that stuff anyway. “Hello? Jeremy Fitzgerald here.”

“Jeremy! What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice. No offense, but we all thought you were dead!”

“Yeah, that’s what Michael told me,” Jeremy chuckled nervously, wondering why Lloyd was calling him.

“Hey, you’re not too opposed to just sharing that shift with him, right? I mean, I know you said you absolutely did not want to have to deal with kids, and I completely understand. Michael had the same qualms about the shift, but this is the only shift where no one is stuck hanging around children. But you’re all good with that? You’re fine sharing the workload? It's probably better anyway, having two people check on the place during those hours. Keeps the place safer- I mean, more secure!” Lloyd blabbed on, talking so fast Jeremy could barely keep up with what he was saying.

“I’m okay with it. Is he?” Jeremy leaned back against the wall, a finger hooked absently into the phone cord. An excuse to spend more time with Michael? No way was he turning that down.

“Oh! Yeah, uh, he actually seemed more than happy to have someone else there. I guess he doesn’t have the same familiarity you have with the job yet. He’s probably a bit jittery about the atmosphere. You know, he’s never had a nighttime security job before, actually.”

“Lloyd, is that all you needed from me, or is there something else?”

“Oh, that’s it. Uh, except one thing. We found a bunch of the torn remains of your uniform. Did you want a new one? I’m guessing that you’ve been using the spare, but you should really have more than one.”

“By that logic, I should have at least three,” Jeremy pointed out. “In case one is misplaced or ruined, or another incident like the other night happens.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“Toy Bonnie came after me. I don’t really remember what happened after that,” Jeremy replied swiftly. “I don’t need to fill out an incident report or anything do I? I mean, as far as I’m aware, no one got hurt.”

“Nobody was hurt in the incident. We didn’t actually know that until just now actually.” Lloyd laughed nervously. “No, we don’t need anything from you, don’t worry! It just would’ve helped us if you’d remembered something about Toy Bonnie attacking, or maybe Fritz coming in-“

“I don’t know anything about that, sorry.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “But I can be in in a couple minutes if you have extra uniforms ready.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can totally do that. Yeah, if you come in before 6, I can totally get you set up with some new uniforms.”

“Great, I’ll see you at 5 then.”

“Fantastic!”

Jeremy hung up the phone feeling more awkward than ever before. At least he’d have a uniform again.

When he saw Michael at the next shift, he set out by tipping his hat at the other man. No response. Evan seemed a bit distracted today as well, somewhat of a frown crossing his face.

Jeremy sat down awkwardly in his chair, remembering Lloyd’s words from earlier. If he had to guess, maybe Michael had been relieved to have an excuse to make sure Jeremy wasn’t in any danger after all the personal risks he took at work.

“I’m going to do a patrol,” he announced abruptly, picking up his flashlight.

“Don’t die,” Evan said, peering over Michael’s shoulder.

“Right…” Jeremy looked at Michael hopefully, but the other man gave him no indication that he was going to say anything in reply.

The night was somewhat quiet. It was weird having the toy animatronics remaining onstage every night, and Jeremy almost wished they’d move so he could at least know that Toy Bonnie hadn’t been a fluke. Even Mangle hadn’t sought him out since he’d turned, presumably too afraid of him now to approach.

It made sense, considering how Percy was taking the exact same approach with him, but it still stung to know that his dog and his favorite animatronic no longer seemed to see him as a safe person. Even Evan didn’t trust him in that form, if Jeremy’s memory served correctly.

Nobody saw him as more than a monster aside from Michael. Was that why he was so magnetized to the other man? Physical attributes aside, Michael seemed well-guarded, not trusting other people. But he seemed to have a secret affection for animals. Even with the amount he swore at his cat, he seemed to love the cat enough to care for it when he was not in the mood to care for the poor thing.

Sighing, Jeremy started to head back toward the cold atmosphere of the main office. He stopped upon hearing what sounded like sobbing coming from Parts and Service.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Jeremy asked, hoping for a gentle tone.

“No!” The door flew open, nearly hitting Jeremy in the face, and he couldn’t help but flinch at the small girl glowering at him with thick black tear streaks running down her face. “He’s come back, and I can’t stop him!”

“Who came back?” Jeremy asked, crouching down to her level. “Sorry for asking, but I seem to be a bit out of the loop.”

“You take things more seriously than most,” she huffed. Then she blinked at him. “Wait, you’re that security guard guy. We all thought you died!”

“That seems to be the common consensus,” Jeremy sighed. “But who came back? Clearly he’s no one good if you are unhappy about it.”

“No. He killed me, and he’s gonna kill more kids.”

“Oh.” A prickle of fear made Jeremy tremble a bit at that. “When did he come back?”

“Not too long ago. We didn’t notice the changes in his suit, but-“ she glanced at the darkened area for a moment. “Here, I’ll just show you.”

Cold fingers wrapped around Jeremy’s wrist, and he was startled to discover that apparently ghosts could in fact touch people.

“So, originally, he was in that locker there, right?” the girl gestured at the locker Jeremy had originally spotted the animatronic at.

“Yeah…”

“Well, he’s not anymore. Now he’s on the floor over here,” Cassidy pointed directly at where the golden bunny suit was slumped next to the old Freddy model.

“Oh. And this suit’s not possessed right? Nobody should be moving it?”

“No one should be moving it. Employees can get fired for touching it, much less moving it. And I haven’t seen it move on its own.”

“Ghosts can only do things at this time of night…” Jeremy trailed off thoughtfully. “You think it’s the same guy who killed you?”

“I know it is. I had to ask a bunch of times to get anywhere with Evan. That kid is so tight-lipped, I swear.” The girl shook her head. “But apparently, this suit here can only be activated by a key. One person had that key.”

“Your killer.”

“William Afton,” she confirmed. “At least, that’s what Evan says, but he’s been wrong about so much lately, that I’m just worried he’s wrong about that too.”

“Did you try asking Michael?”

“Evan doesn’t think I should talk to the security guards.” The girl shrugged. “He thinks I’ll just kill you guys. But I’m not that murderous. I still have a brain, unlike some people.”

“So you must be Cassidy?”

“Yep.” Cassidy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to complain because it makes sense that Evan wants to spend time with his brother, but I miss being able to roam the pizzeria freely. Ever since Toy Bonnie got dinged, I’ve been checking in here to make sure Spring Bonnie hasn’t been used. I think we scared him off pretty well though.”

“Spring Bonnie…?”

“The yellow rabbit suit,” Cassidy pointed, rolling her eyes. “Oh! One more thing. I know you’re like, nocturnal or whatever like we are. But you can actually wake up during the day. Could you like, keep an eye out for someone wearing the suit?”

“I mean, I suppose. Did Evan bring that up to Michael?”

“I doubt it. He hates the idea of getting you guys involved.” Cassidy wrinkled her nose. “Something about trying not to cause more deaths than necessary, but he’s not going to kill an adult out in the open like that. I think it’s fine.”

“Huh. Okay. I mean, I can try…”

“Whatever works.” Cassidy seemed satisfied, finally noticing the red light on in the camera. “Oh! Say cheese!”

“That’s a live feed, Cassidy. It’s not a picture camera.”

“You’re no fun.” Cassidy stuck her tongue out at him. “Bye bye for now. I’ll expect results later.”

“I hope I’ll have results for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy said cheerfully before disappearing.

Resigning himself to the blinking light of the security camera, Jeremy went back to the office. If he hadn’t been sure before, Evan’s scowl told him plenty about what he needed to know.

“What were you thinking?” Evan hissed, his eyes so dark there was absolutely no color aside from the darkest of dark pits.

“Uhh…”

“She could’ve killed you!”

“She dragged me in there!” Jeremy said in protest.

“Did she now? Maybe she’s just lonely because she lost her best friend.” Michael shot a pointed look at his brother.

“Cassidy can’t stand me,” Evan scoffed, but he let up on Jeremy a little bit. “What did she want?”

“Help with her little investigation into Spring Bonnie.” Jeremy dropped into his chair and peered at the camera monitor in Michael’s hands. “Still no animatronic movement, huh? Almost like they were told to stay put.”

He raised an eyebrow at Evan. The kid rolled his eyes, the frown not relenting. “Toys aren’t our thing. We watch over the others.”

“So the toys not moving is also suspicious behavior?” Jeremy asked. “Hey, not to be dumb or anything, but how much did your dad work with the animatronics?”

“He helped create them, so a pretty significant amount,” Michael answered. “Evan, I just think you should make up with her.”

“There’s nothing to make up! She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ll stay out of her space, and she can take care of the others!”

“She said you told her to stay in Parts and Service,” Jeremy said.

“You’re going to believe her over me? Mikey, you can’t believe this, surely!”

“I mean, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never spoken to Cassidy before, and if its your word or Jeremy’s, then I’ll take your word for it. But I do still think you should try to resolve this conflict you have with her-“

“Think what you want then! I don’t care!” Evan’s eyes flashed before he abruptly vanished.

Jeremy sat in stunned silence as Michael just continued checking things. “Well that was…”

“He’s just pouting. We’ve had this argument before, don’t worry.” Michael didn’t glance over at Jeremy as he talked. “So, Cassidy let you off with a warning or something I’m guessing?”

“I already said she dragged me in. She wants me to go in during the day and look out for a guy in a rabbit costume.”

“That could only be one person, you know,” Michael said grimly, sitting back to start giving Jeremy his attention. “My father only made one key for that suit.”

“Cassidy said that. She also seems a bit weary of taking information from Evan since he seems a little…”

“Mixed up?” Michael shrugged. “Yeah, don’t put too much stock in what he says. I don’t think he fully knows where he’s at.”

“That’s fair, I guess…” Jeremy wasn’t fully appreciative of that response. “So, you still think your dad killed those kids?”

“Without a doubt. He was always a bit more bitter when he had to deal with them, and if the other kids say it was the golden bunny man, then who am I to say they’re wrong? It makes sense.” Michael shook his head. “I still don’t understand what kind of monster could willingly decide that kids couldn’t get to live their lives though.”

“A kind that’s actually a monster as opposed to someone who thinks of himself as one?” Jeremy offered.

Michael turned his gaze on Jeremy lazily. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“Not more than Evan’s assurances. Listen, I made my peace with what I did a long time ago.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Jeremy laid a reassuring hand on Michael’s arm. “You didn’t mean it. There’s no way you and your dad are even remotely in the same league-“

“Yeah, but a monster is a monster, aren’t they? Killers are monsters, Jeremy. Simple as that.” Michael slipped his hand away and went back to the cameras. “It’s not like it’s possible to always spot a monster on the surface anyway. Maybe you’re just telling yourself I can’t be a monster because I don’t look like one.”

Jeremy stiffened at that. You don’t have to look like a monster to be a monster. Did that mean the opposite was true too? He wanted desperately to know the answer.

Michael tried to give him a smile. “Look, it’s no big deal, really. If you aren’t actively saying I’m following in my father’s footsteps, then I think things are okay, you know? Like, I may not really like you, but I don’t think you’re a complete twat.”

“Uh, thanks?” Jeremy didn’t know how to respond to that, instead shining his light into the vent to avoid the heat that rose to his face at what he was guessing was meant to be a compliment.

“Anytime.” Michael chuckled softly. “Looks like he’s going for a full night sulk tonight. Guess it’s just us now.”

“Think you’ll be able to handle the office once I go on my next patrol?” Jeremy asked teasingly.

Michael snorted. “With the animatronics the way they are? I’ll be more than fine.”

“Good to know.”

A few nights passed like this, Michael offering minimal conversation during the shift, Jeremy taking his time to do patrols and update Cassidy on what he saw during the days.

It wasn’t much more than he had during the night, but Cassidy seemed to appreciate it nonetheless. And if he showed up to work tired, then that was fine too. Michael would shake his head, and Evan was still pouting about his argument with Cassidy, so he didn’t care.

Still, he felt a little bit bad whenever he realized he’d nodded off, insisting that Michael wake him. And evidently, that was not happening every time it happened. It hadn’t hurt anything so far though, so Jeremy was willing to let it slide.

It had taken him ages, quietly arguing with Evan while Jeremy slumped in his chair, to convince his brother to try and work things out with Cassidy. Evan had been furious that Cassidy was putting Jeremy in harm’s way, but Michael thought he probably knew the risks of what he was getting into.

Why should Cassidy get the blame anyway? She wanted help, not to doom another man to die. And Evan had given plenty of warning, so Jeremy could’ve backed out whenever he wanted to, so it was fine. There was simply no need to keep blaming Cassidy.

Michael spared a glance away from his constant checking to look at the uncomfortable way Jeremy had passed out in his chair, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth, hat knocked askew. On impulse, he reached over and fixed Jeremy’s hat, before deciding to move him to the floor.

Jeremy’s head knocked into Michael’s chest, and he felt sure that the man would wake. Jeremy hardly stirred, so Michael continued to lay him down, removing Jeremy’s jacket to tuck it beneath his head like a pillow. There, Michael thought to himself, somewhat satisfied before he went back to flick through the cameras absently.

Unfortunately for Mike, however, he’d missed the sound of an animatronic crawling into the vent, too focused on making sure he didn’t wake up Jeremy to pay much attention to the world around him.

The loud static did eventually catch Michael’s attention, and he set the monitor down, forgetting to wind the music box as he glanced at the phone. It was in its cradle, and belatedly Michael realized that noise meant animatronic, and he turned to check the vent just as Mangle swung down to attack.

Michael yowled in pain as the impact knocked him from his chair and plastic teeth tore through his face. The edge of the desk caught the other side of his face, making his vision blurry as he faintly caught the sound of tearing fabric and an angry growl.

Something warm ran down his face as the animatronic screeched, hiding away from the giant shadow looming over Michael. Struggling to push himself upright, he found himself surrounded by golden fur. Oh. Michael blinked blood out of his eye, struggling to process the scene around him, only slightly frightened now that he knew his rabbit friend had somehow appeared to aid him. I hope it doesn’t step on my coworker. That’d be awkward to explain.

“Mikey!” Evan’s voice echoed in the quiet environment. “Michael?”

The bunny was growling, a low rumble vibrating through its body. Cool hands cupped both sides of Michael’s face as Evan’s face came into view.

“Oh my god,” Evan breathed, smudging the blood stream ever so slightly. “Where did Jeremy go? I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“Glad you’ve got your priorities in order,” Michael answered slowly, still struggling to focus on his brother’s face. “Your hands are cold.”

“Of course they are.” Evan huffed in exasperation. “Wait, you’re totally in shock. Mikey…”

“The music box…” Michael trailed off as he registered that a completely quiet room was not a good thing.

Evan’s eye widened. “Oh no.”

The sound of aggressive music echoed in the halls as the Puppet made its approach. Not that it was much of a problem, seeing as Michael’s bunny pinned the animatronic to the ground before it could do much.

“Wait, don’t do that,” Evan said hurriedly. “Uh, I need to-“

“Yeah, no, go ahead.” Michael’s eyelids fluttered shut as Evan went away to shout at the bunny who was currently having a very intense stare down with the Puppet.

Jeremy hadn’t known he’d fallen asleep on shift that night. Waking up tangled in bindings made of shimmery thread had not been the most reassuring thing. More startling than that, however, was the pooling blood around Michael’s head as Evan argued with an unfamiliar girl.

Cautiously he untangled himself and dug into the duffel bag he started to bring to every shift, grateful for his planning as the remains of his uniform remained littered across the floor. The bickering children didn’t notice as he slipped his uniform on quickly before pressing his jacket (which for some reason was folded on the floor) to the wound on Michael’s head. Jeremy managed to pull the man close so he could hold the fabric to the wound while still being able to dial for the hospital.

Jeremy didn’t know how Michael had been injured, but based on the teeth marks, he had a sinking feeling Mangle had done something to the poor man. He did look a bit too similar to his father for Jeremy’s liking. That had to be the real reason Michael was so vigilant and why Evan was so paranoid about him missing things in the cameras.

The children stopped arguing to look at him when he was explaining things to the emergency operator, seeming to realize that maybe there were more urgent things to deal with than whatever they’d been arguing about. Jeremy clutched the plastic tightly in one hand as he clutched to Michael’s injury with the other.

Evan was the first to approach Jeremy, looking more disheveled than Jeremy even knew ghosts could be. “You’re the rabbit thing.”

Jeremy nodded awkwardly. He knew they’d discovered him the minute he’d woken up and was tangled in that same shimmery stuff that he’d seen under his skin before he transformed the first time.

“Our conversation isn’t over, Evan,” the girl said, impatiently. “Sure, Mike takes priority, but the fact that you guys tried to lock me away is absolutely insane.”

“How about we skip the interrogation until we know that Michael’s okay,” Jeremy said weakly.

“I guess that’s a good way to put things.” The girl crouched at Michael’s side, brushing bloodied hair out of his face. “Although you and me need a talk at some point, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

“I’m long overdue for talks with a bunch of people now,” Jeremy muttered.

Please be okay.

#cloud writes #werebunny au #jeremy fitzgerald #ramona fitzgerald #michael afton #evan afton #cc fnaf #cassidy fnaf #cw violence #cw injury #cut right through me

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its-all-stardust · 2 months

Text

Sugar || 9

Masterlist || Part Eight

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Note: this chapter is very late and fairly short. tbh i could have added a lot more, but seeing as it's been 2 months since the last chapter, i wanted to get something out. But I am still working on this fic!! I'm going to finish it i swear, so please please yell at me to get my ass moving!!

When you called the next day, Steven didn’t answer. You waffled about whether to leave a voicemail and ultimately decided not to—not on that call, anyway.

On the second call, later that day, Steven still didn’t answer. That time, you left a message asking if he was feeling better and asking him to please call you back.

He didn’t. There wasn’t even a response when you sent his payment for going with you to the auction, something entirely unlike him.

By the third call, another day later, you were afraid of once again being too much, too needy. Yet you left another message anyway. You tried to keep it professional, not wanting to let on how upset you were.

“Steven, I still haven’t heard from you. I was just checking in. If there’s an issue with our business arrangement, please let me know as soon as possible.”

You wonder if he’s sleepwalking again or whatever disorder is causing him to blackout. Perhaps it’s like that first time, and Steven will come back confused but well and whole. You try to tell yourself that’s what’s happening now, trying to remain positive.

But, of course, the worry still creeps in.

What if he’s lost?

What if he’s hurt?

Should you call someone and report him missing? Is he missing?

There’s a chance you could be taken seriously, but you also know you could be seen as a psycho jilted ex-lover.

You contemplate the merits of hiring a private investigator or going to Steven’s apartment yourself to see if he’s there.

You can’t go in, you don’t have a key, but you could knock. Maybe even ask his neighbors if they know anything.

You simultaneously try to convince yourself that nothing is wrong and something is.

If something has gone wrong, he needs you, and you can’t get to him. If it hasn’t, then he’s purposefully avoiding you for whatever reason.

You remind yourself you shouldn’t feel this way. Shouldn’t feel so attached.

By Sunday evening, you’re a bit of a mess. If you bit your nails, they’d be gone by now. Instead, your anxiety manifested outward. Your apartment is both chaos and order.

You went on a bit of a cleaning spree. Normally, once a month, you hire someone to come deep clean your home, moving furniture and putting in more elbow grease than you typically care to. These last few days, though, you attempted to take matters into your own hands. And while you were already cleaning, you figured you might as well sort through your cabinets, closets and shelves to see if there is anything you no longer feel the need to hold on to.

As a result, the bathrooms and Steven’s bedroom are spotless. The living room and the kitchen have been destroyed. Only your bedroom is untouched, but that’s only because you got distracted after going through the walk-in closet.

You would have kept going until something in you snapped, or everything was back in order if only the hunger pangs weren’t so distracting. It was a blessing in disguise that your nerves never seemed to affect your appetite.

You’re at your kitchen table, barely tasting whatever leftovers you had in the fridge and staring off into the middle distance when your phone rings.

At first, the sound doesn’t register, drowned out by the constant static filling your head the last few days. But then you realize what it is and lunge toward the counter where you left your phone.

Your heart stops when Steven’s name flashes on the screen. You don’t have to think before pressing the phone to your ear a second later.

“Please tell me it’s still Friday,” Steven blurts as soon as you answer. “Or even Saturday, and I got really drunk on champagne last night.”

Relief fills you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by worry.

“Baby, it’s Sunday,” you tell him gently, sinking back into your chair at the table.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Steven says, dejected.

For the past few days, you had thought, perhaps, that Steven was going to end your relationship. That he no longer wanted to be your sugar baby and didn’t know how to tell you. But his losing time, unable to recall anything during his blackouts, is much more frightening.

“It’s like I’m losing my mind,” Steven continues. “First, I’m losing days, and now Gus regrew a fin.”

That catches your attention. “Gus what?”

You distinctly remember Steven talking about his pet goldfish only having one fin. “Goldfish don’t regrow body parts, Steven.”

“Well, it’s either that or someone broke into my flat, stole Gus, and replaced him with an imposter,” Steven says, his voice bordering on joking and hysterical.

As ridiculous as it sounds…

“You’re sure you don’t remember doing any goldfish shopping?” you ask feebly. Someone replaced Gus after who knows what happened to him, and the most likely culprit would be Steven himself. Not that any attempts at regaining blackout memories have proven fruitful, nor is there an obvious explanation as to why he would do that in the first place.

“Not that, at least,” Steven answers quietly.

“You remember something?” you ask quickly, excited. Whatever it is, it might help you both figure out what’s happening.

“There’s…something alright.” He’s hesitant, like he isn’t sure what to tell you. Perhaps afraid you’ll think him crazy or maybe be disturbed by what he does remember.

“Can I…come over?” Any confidence Steven had around you seems to have been washed away by whatever happened while he was gone. In its place is the same uneasy timidity he had when you first began your relationship when he wasn’t sure what he could and couldn’t do.

“Steven, you never have to ask.”

When he walks through the door, Steven goes straight for your embrace, desperately, it seems, needing your arms around him. He breathes a sigh of relief, melting into you.

You don’t say anything and simply enjoy the feeling of Steven in your arms again. Before, you could survive a few days without him next to you. Now, you can’t imagine letting him out of your sight.

You don’t know when that change happened.

“Do you need anything?” you finally ask, your voice breathless. A mixture of relief and Steven squeezing you a little too tightly—not that you’re complaining.

“Just you,” Steven mumbles, his face buried in your neck. A pleasant heat fills you.

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, tangled up in each other, relishing in the comfort. You want to move to the couch to hold Steven properly but don’t want to be the first to let go. You don’t want Steven to think for even one second that you’re abandoning him in any way.

Steven shifts, lifting his head, and presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“At least I know you’re real,” he mutters more to himself than to you.

You have no idea what that means. It’s likely a part of what he has to tell you about the last few days.

“What happened?” you ask softly, prompting him.

Finally, Steven stands up straight, his arms loosening around you but not completely letting go.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he says, “I don’t even know where to start.”

With your hands on his arm, you lead Steven to the couch. “May I?” you ask, and with Steven’s nod, you continue. “Let’s start with the auction. You seemed fine at first, but something happened to you.”

Steven’s brow furrows in concentration, trying to remember what happened just a few short days ago.

“I remember going. We met your friend, but then…” He shakes his head. “It’s blank. Part of me didn’t feel right, but… I don’t know how to describe it. One second was with you, and the next, I was dreaming or something before waking up in my bed.”

Steven’s eyes widen, apparently realizing something. “Oh God, I didn’t just leave you there, did I?” he quickly asks, eyes searching yours.

“You didn’t,” you assure him. Even though Steven has the right to walk out on your arrangement anytime he wants, aside from your assumptions after the auction, he’s never shown any sign of wanting to do so. “You had me take you home, though. Do you remember that?”

Steven shakes his head. “When did that happen?”

The best place, you decide, is the beginning. Instead of guessing at what Steven doesn’t remember, you replay the whole night for him—even the parts he’s already mentioned himself.

“I thought you didn’t like being there. Maybe you were bored, or the crowd was too much for you. You got so quiet. And then you asked me to take you home.”

“I don’t…feel like myself.”

You weren’t sure what he meant at the time, but now it makes sense that that was when Steven’s memory started going blank.

“I don’t remember that,” Steven says softly. “Did something happen afterward? When did I leave?”

“Leave?” you repeat, slightly confused.

Steven continues, not hearing you. “Did I say where I was going? Or…or did I sleep in the spare room?”

That’s when you realize that Steven didn’t think of his apartment when you said you took him home. He thought you meant yours.

“Steven,” you say, interrupting him before he could keep trying to fill in the blanks himself. “I didn’t bring you back here. You had me take you to your apartment. Something about you needing to be there.”

Steven’s face scrunches up in confusion as if that course of action doesn’t make sense to him. He goes silent, and you let him think.

You want to ask about what he said that night, what it could have meant. What it was about himself he couldn’t tell you.

But you don’t. He didn’t want to talk about it then, and there’s a reason he wouldn’t know what you were talking about if you did.

An eerie feeling washes over you. At the time, you knew something was wrong, but looking back now and realizing that something inside Steven had changed, and he was no longer remembering what he was doing leaves you unsettled.

Whatever is happening to him, you need to help figure it out. The problem is, as far as any doctor could tell, it wasn’t anything physical, nothing that left an outward sign of its presence, leaving you at a loss.

“I followed you in,” you tell Steven, needing to say something about what happened in his apartment. “Pretty sure you didn’t want me to. You kind of…ran, but I needed to know you were okay.”

“Well, now I know something was definitely wrong with me. I would never run from you if I were in my right mind,” Steven tries to joke, but it comes out weak, without much feeling behind it.

It’s nice to hear nonetheless, especially with how this whole ordeal had left you feeling.

“I didn’t stay long,” you continue, no longer meeting Steven’s eye and instead turning your attention to your still interlocked hands. “It didn’t seem like you wanted me there.”

It was Steven, yet not Steven, sitting awkwardly at the table as you made him tea. Though he didn’t seem to hate you, he was clearly uneasy with you being in his space. Your heart pangs in your chest.

Before you can stop yourself, before you can even think, words spill from your lips.

“And then you wouldn’t answer my calls. Now I know why, but I thought I had done something, and maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

Steven’s breath catches.

No, no, no, you weren’t supposed to say it like that. You should have practiced the words beforehand.

You lo-like Steven, but your relationship doesn’t have room for that. You’re in this position specifically, so you don’t get caught up in feelings. You don’t want them. They’re messy and complicated and leave you hurt more often than not. You pay people to avoid feelings, and it’s always worked so well.

Until Steven.

It shouldn’t matter if he wants you, whatever that entails. As long as he’s happy to accept your money for his services, you should be content.

The last thing you want is to pressure Steven into anything, which means keeping any and all ill-advised emotions to yourself.

You don’t want this relationship to end; admitting anything is a surefire way of making that happen.

“I thought you didn’t want to be my baby anymore,” you correct. Your first admission is true, but it’s best if Steven thinks this is what you meant, and you can pretend it doesn’t sound just as desperate.

Steven squeezes your hand and doesn’t release the pressure, making you meet his gaze.

“When I woke up, I saw you had called,” he starts, his voice quiet, eyes intently looking into yours. “I was so scared, I didn’t listen to them. I just needed to call you. See you.” He takes a shaky breath. “And…I think I’ve known for a while, really, but I realized something just now.”

Your brow furrows, wondering what he’s thinking.

“I have…so much I still need to tell you, but I think I need to say this now.” He starts talking faster as if he thinks if he doesn’t get the words out quickly enough, they won’t come out at all. Then, in a rush, he says, “I don’t want to be your baby anymore.”

Your heart stops beating, and pain fills your chest.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

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penny00dreadful · 7 months

Text

And They Were Roommates! - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Eddie had called out of work the next day. Steve could hear him making his apologies to Mrs. Henderson who'd taken over the running of the shop when her husband passed.

Steve knew she'd probably tell him to stay home for the rest of the week, probably longer if she could get away with it, but Eddie loved every second he spent working there. Adored Dustin. Adored the other kids, Steve's kids, who used the back room for their dice game after closing on Thursday evenings.

Eddie would have to be beaten away from the premises with a bat. A bat with nails.

Steve might just have to give it a try if the idiot refused to rest properly.

He wasn't mothering him.

He was like… distant cousining him.

When he heard Eddie retreat back to his room after the call and when a light rumbling of snores came through the wall maybe a half an hour later, Steve finally made his exit from his room.

He hadn’t wanted Eddie to think he needed to put on a brave face or act like he was okay if Steve was out in the public spaces while he made the call.

Not because he cared.

Just so Eddie wouldn’t have to pretend.

And so he himself didn’t have to deal with the tension.

Yeah, right.

Also, it was the least he could do to complete Eddie's designated chores off the whiteboard that there had been war over.

Robin and Eddie’s friend Chrissy had been forced to come in and mediate the whiteboard before one of them set the other's hair on fire. Though by the end of the day the two best friends had been too busy making eyes at each other to be of any help.

Steve was taking a risk; messing with the delicate whiteboard balance that stayed the same, week in, week out, lest another war start. But if Eddie wasn’t up for going to work, he certainly wouldn’t be up for sweeping, mopping, countertops and garbage.

And like, Steve could hardly blame him, he’d been through a lot yesterday, he’d been betrayed by the guy he’d cared most about. He was attacked and had his heart broken all in one night.

So it was whatever.

Just a few chores.

Whatever.

At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping the noise down. Eddie could sleep through the apartment being ripped up by a cyclone then dropped into Oz.

He’d probably sleep through any and all musical numbers to follow, too.

Though he’d be bummed about missing them.

A few hours had passed by that point and Steve was just about to sit his lovely bottom on the couch to enjoy some good old fashioned thoughtless tv when there was a knock at the door.

He half expected Mrs. Henderson to be on the other side with half a hospital in tow behind her as well as, like, fifteen gallons of her famous chicken noodle soup. Which Steve would not turn down for love nor money and would steal a minimum 50% share.

As was his right.

But it wasn’t Claudia.

It was some guy.

Some guy who had a bandage over his nose, a harsh purple colour blooming underneath, sitting a little off as though broken. Some guy who had cuts and scratch marks all over his face and neck.

Some guy who seemed to be affronted at the very sight of him.

But as he stood there Steve could see the clogged up gears working in his brain before the guy opened his mouth and said "You're Steve, the roommate."

Steve pursed his lips.

Well, this interaction was off to a great start.

Though if this was who Steve thought he was, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

"I'm Steve. Eddie's the roommate.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “What was with the look?"

The guy blinked at him. "What look?"

"The look you gave me, when I opened the door. Like I'd shit on your shoe." He answered with a cocked eyebrow and a cocked hip.

"Oh, uh… I just thought Eddie had shacked up with someone already.” The guy laughed. “Bit soon.” He shrugged and smiled at Steve as though looking for some kind of commiseration for a good joke, two men giving each other nudges about how silly their wives were or whatever other shit straight people did.

But Steve had no commiseration to give.

So this was definitely the shithead, then. Rick.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, practically acting like a barricade, blocking off access to the apartment with his arms crossed. "Don’t like the idea of him having someone at home?” He asked in a light tone. “Bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

Rick’s face immediately soured. "That wasn't his business to tell."

“I think you lose the privilege to that kind of privacy when you fuck around on people you’re supposed to love.” Steve shrugged. “Or just people in general.”

“Who the hell are you to judge me?” Rick puffed his chest out. “You don’t know me.”

“And thank god for that. I don’t need to know you. I know you’re a cheater, that’s enough.”

Rick scoffed. “Whatever, man. I’m not here to debate morality or some shit with you. I’m here to see Eddie.”

“No.” Steve answered as simply as he could.

The guy seemed to need things to be concise.

Rick looked bewildered. “Ex- excuse me?”

“You got cotton in your ears or something? I said no.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? His keeper? You know he hates you right?”

Steve pulled his mouth down into a mocking pout. “Oh no.” He sighed, deadpan. “I’m so heartbroken.”

“Listen, I’m not getting into it with you right now, man. So call Eddie out or move.”

“Or what?” Steve leaned forward a little, feeling his blood light on fire.

There would be nothing more he’d love at this moment than Rick trying to square up to fight.

The guy was a little taller than him, but Steve was much broader, much stronger and though it wasn’t something he liked to do, he knew he could throw a decent punch if it was for someone else.

That much was obvious.

Thinking back on the things Eddie had said last night, the things Rick had tried, the way he’d cried into Steve’s shoulder, Steve would break Rick’s nose all over again if given half a chance.

“Steve.”

Eddie appeared next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away from the door.

Rick looked between the two of them before his eyes landed back on Steve, snapping at him “You can fuck off now.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘oh, can I?’, but even so, he looked at Eddie, waiting for some sign of what he wanted, whether he wanted him to stay or go.

But Eddie gave no indication of what he wanted, wedging himself in between the two and pulling the door tighter to himself, his expression thunderous through the blooming bruises and angry cuts.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Steve took that as his cue to go. Even through all the bluster and posturing and how much the two of them still didn’t like each other-

We barely tolerate each other, Steve insisted to himself, we don’t like each other. I don’t like him.

-he wasn’t going to force himself into this drama and if Eddie needed to tear this guy to shreds on his own, Steve would let him.

But he had barely taken a step back before Eddie’s hand shot out, grasping at what he could until he had a fistful of Steve’s shirt, white knuckling it and stopping him in his tracks.

The movement was hidden by the door, Rick wouldn’t have been able to see it and Eddie didn’t acknowledge that he’d done anything, still staring his ex down.

Steve stopped dead where he was and when Eddie seemed to realise that he wouldn’t be moving, his hand loosened, coming back up to rest against the door.

“I’m here to sort things out between us. Try to fix it.” Rick said, his voice going soft.

Eddie exhaled a derisive laugh through his nose. “Why don’t you go and ‘fix’ your wife?”

Steve crossed his arms, standing guard in the back but still mostly out of sight.

“C’mon babe…” Rick reached out, attempting to grasp at Eddie’s fingers but Eddie snatched his hand back. “I think you’re just… making a big deal out of this when you don’t need to.”

“A big deal?” Eddie snapped, leaning forward. “Not only have you been cheating on your wife but you’ve been cheating on me too.”

“You?” Rick sputtered, incredulous.

He exhaled with an eye roll and only then noticed that Steve was still standing there.

“Are you serious?” Rick almost shrieked. “What the hell are you still here for? Show’s over, normie!” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction as though dismissing him.

Steve raised his eyebrows and smiled back, not moving an inch.

Rick looked back to Eddie. “Are you not going to do anything about him? We’re in the middle-”

“Oh my god.” Steve injected as much sarcasm as he could. “Is this a private conversation? I had no idea.”

Rick’s face was turning red with frustration. “You got a real attitude problem, man.”

Steve turned his mouth down in a pout. “Oh no.”

“That’s it.” Rick slammed against the door all of a sudden, wrenching it from Eddie’s grip and almost blowing it open if it wasn’t for Steve’s hands stopping it in its tracks.

The sudden stop jostled Rick, sending him slightly off balance and Eddie took the opportunity to kick out hard, swinging his leg up until it landed in between Rick’s legs.

Eddie retracted his foot for just a second as Rick crumpled with a scream of pain before kicking out again, catching him in the hip and shoving him back into the hallway, sending him sprawling.

“Lose my fucking number, asshole.”

Eddie spat down at Rick before turning back inside and slamming the door behind him.

His eyes were still narrowed and furious as he glared at Steve who could do nothing but stand there.

The sound of Rick’s groans were still echoing beyond the door as the two of them looked at each other.

The silence stretched on as Eddie heaved heavy breaths in and out and Steve stared dumbfounded.

There was a glossy sheen to Eddie’s eyes by the time Steve opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say.

But it didn’t matter.

Eddie stormed past him without a backwards glance, his hair just disappearing behind the door before he slammed it closed and the wailing of a guitar and the crashing of drums started to scream out of the speakers in his room.

He didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Didn’t knock on his door to try to pull him out and didn’t try to get him to talk.

Steve was only just waking up the day after when he heard Eddie’s bedroom door open and shuffling coming down the hall towards the phone.

He twiddled his thumbs, waiting in his room while he heard Eddie’s muttered conversation.

He didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to have to force his presence on Eddie before it was necessary but he really had to pee and he’d have to walk past the phone to get to the bathroom.

Thankfully the conversation didn’t last long but then Eddie shuffled away from his own room towards the bathroom and Steve had to take some very deep breaths.

He couldn’t really be mad at him for it, the guy hadn’t come out of his room at all yesterday after the confrontation, he deserved to pee but Steve felt like his kidneys were gonna start failing at any second.

When he heard Eddie shuffle back into his room Steve nearly cracked the wall with how hard he threw the door open, rushing down the hallway and into the bathroom before he exploded.

Eddie hadn’t made another appearance by the time Steve was grabbing his keys for work and as much as it irritated him, he was feeling a little wary about leaving him all alone for most of the day.

Turned out he didn’t really need to worry about it.

Just as he had turned back towards Eddie’s room, there was a knock on the front door.

He swung it open to find bouncing blonde curls and a bright perky smile.

“Hi Steve.”

“Oh, hey Chrissy.” He stepped aside, allowing her to sweep inside. Her sweater was very unusual. Dark blue and baggy and tucked into her light wash jeans. Steve could have sworn he’d seen it before. There was a large plastic bag in her hand that a glance inside told him was filled with every tooth rottingly sweet thing she could have scooped off the shelves at their local store.

She placed the bag on the kitchen counter with a light clink of glass against glass coming from inside.

Maybe it was also a day-drunk type of visit.

“How is he?” Chrissy asked, blinking up at him with her big earnest eyes.

“I’m… not sure?” Steve shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I think I’m probably going to call over to Robin’s after work.” He muttered, trying to keep his burning blush down. “Hang out for a little bit.”

He didn’t think he needed to say he was doing it to give Chrissy and Eddie their space, to do their ice-cream and chocolate and alcohol and talk about how terrible men were without him hovering. But thankfully she got it, smiling at him so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“Could you…?” She hesitated, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers. “Could you ask Robin- never mind.”

Steve opened his mouth to assure her it was okay to continue but she barrelled on.

“The boys are coming over later too. Is that okay?”

“The boys?” Did she mean the kids?

“From the band.”

“Oh! Yeah I mean why wouldn’t that be okay? Eddie lives here too.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to check in case-”

“In case I complained about it later?” He tried to ask in his kindest tone. Maybe he’d been guilty of bitching about them in the past but he would never deny Eddie his support system, not at s time like this.

Even if he did… dislike him?

Did he still dislike him?

What was he talking about, of course he did.

“I’m sorry.” Chrissy looked incredibly guilty and Steve couldn’t stand it.

“No, you were right to ask. I haven’t- I’ve been a bit rude in the past.”

She looked like she wanted to apologise again so he shot her a warm smile and patted her on the shoulder. “I have to get to work, but take care of him, yeah?”

She gave him a curious look but nodded, sending him out the door with a wave of her hand, her sleeve following loosely where it was still pulled over her fingers.

Steve was halfway through his shift by the time Robin came in. She worked shorter hours ever since she’d taken that part time internship as a translator.

They’d just gotten past their mid-day coffee rush by the time they had a chance to talk.

“Are you doing anything after this?” He asked her, leaning back against the counter.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” Robin was rifling through the under counter refrigerator next to him, throwing out any old stock that had gone out of date.

“Yes.” Steve nodded. “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for years and I thought now was the best time to confess.”

“You could have picked a more romantic location.” She sniffed at a container of strawberries, considering before shaking her head and dumping them.

“But my heart told me it had to be now, Birdie.”

Robin just rolled her eyes at him.

“So?” He nudged her with his foot, very nearly sending her off balance. “You, me, two of the best subs this city has and your couch. It’s my best offer.”

She shut the refrigerator door, pushing herself to stand, using the counter for balance. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Steve absentmindedly snapped his fingers at her, remembering.

“Oh! You have a date tonight, right?”

“I did have a date tonight but sh- he cancelled.”

“He cancelled, did he?” Steve smirked, trying not to enjoy the poorly masked revulsion on Robin’s face at having to pretend to be dating a man.

“Yes. He did. Rain check for another time.”

“Bummer.”

Robin hadn’t told him much about the girl she was seeing and Steve hadn’t pushed for any more information than she was willing to give. When she wanted him to know, he’d know.

“But-” he continued “-that leaves your schedule wide open for a date with me.” He spread his arms wide open and smiled at her.

“Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“The luckiest. Any reason for the rain check?”

Robin nodded. “Friend emergency.”

“Oh. That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “He’s a very sweet…” her nose scrunched up, “boy.”

“Very sweet boy.” He repeated with a smile. “So can I steal your keys? Have everything all spread out for you when you get home?” He dragged his hand down his chest, wiggling his hips.

“God, Steven.” Robin shuddered. “You’re repulsive.”

“Wrong. I am a dish.”

“Ugh. Gag.”

Steve pouted at her. “I’ll get you a milkshake too, how about that?”

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. “Fine.”

She could only hold for so long before she started to break, cracking a smile.

“If you two don’t mind,” a voice next to them said and they both jumped, seeing Mark their manager standing there, “could you stop flirting and get back to work?”

Neither of them even bothered arguing that they were not flirting anymore. They both knew the rest of the staff had a betting pool going on when they would get together.

They would be waiting a very long time.

By the time Robin got home, Steve had himself swaddled in her blankets and had stolen her best hot water bottle.

Why did she live somewhere so cold?

His toasty warmth didn’t last very long, however.

She wrestled the hot water bottle from his grip by resorting to dirty tactics, pulling at his hair until he let it go.

“How many times have I told you the hair is off limits?” He hissed at her, trying to fix it. His hair was his fucking signature, how could she be so rude?

“That is exactly why I go for it every time. It’s your weak spot.” She grinned, smug in her win and attempting to pull the throw off of him as well.

“Go get one of my sweaters if you’re gonna be such a big bitch baby about it. I just got off work.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m tired.”

“I brought you subs and milkshakes!”

Robin heaved out a heavy, put upon sigh. “Fine.” She heaved herself up from the couch, still clutching at the hot water bottle and disappeared inside her room.

Steve took the opportunity to swaddle himself again, just getting cosy when he heard Robin call out, “Evie, did you steal my sweater?”

��Which one?” He shouted back. He probably had five or more of hers at home and he wasn’t even sure if all of those had started out as hers or his.

“The blue one!”

“Which blue one?”

“The new blue one!”

“What does it look like?”

“What do you think it looks like, it’s fucking blue!”

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to remember any blue sweaters that existed within his own apartment.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have it. I don’t even remember you getting a new blue sweater.”

“Well where the hell is it then?”

“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know it existed!”

“You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Maybe the sweater fairy stole it.” He snickered to himself until a dark red sweater that had definitely belonged to him first hit him in the face.

“You are the sweater fairy.” She pouted, sitting back down and stealing the throw from his lap.

“Don’t hate crime me. It’s rude.” He tugged the throw back over his legs, leaving her enough slack to cover herself as well.

Robin reached over to snatch her sub from the coffee table. “So.”

“So.”

“Something’s going on with Eddie.”

“What?” Steve ran through the entire day in his head. He didn’t think he’d mentioned Eddie once. “When did I say there was something going on with Eddie?”

“You didn’t.” Robin’s mouth went slack in the way it usually did whenever she was hiding something but she covered it up with a large bite, speaking through a full mouth. “But you’re here and not at home so…”

“That’s not that unusual.”

“No, but what is unusual is that you asked if you could steal my keys instead of just taking them.”

“Oh.” Yeah. That was not the norm. “Um, well it’s not really my place to say-”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Tell me.” She jabbed him with a sharp elbow.

“I don’t know if I can.” He said, running his hand through his hair.

“I mean, nothing too personal, if you don’t wanna.” She backtracked with a shrug.

“Doesn’t matter what I want. The thing is it’s not my business, it’s Eddie’s.” He shrugged. “But there was some… relationship drama the other night.”

“Ooh. Juicy drama?”

Steve winced. “Not exactly. More like… red flag drama.”

“Oh shit. Chr- I didn’t know that.”

Steve looked at her, bewildered. “I wouldn’t expect you to, how would you know?”

Robin just shrugged, shoving another large bite into her mouth.

“I don’t really… I’m not comfortable talking about the things Eddie and I talked about but I do need you to help me… figure myself out.”

“Okay, that I can do. I’m an expert at it. I helped you find your sexuality.”

“Find it? It wasn’t fucking lost Birdie.”

“Yeah, but I brought it out into the sunlight.”

“Jesus, you’re acting like you released it from captivity. I knew. I’ve always known. Just because you didn’t know that I know, doesn’t mean I didn’t know.”

She shoved his arm. “I unlocked it.”

He shoved her back. “You didn’t unlock shit.”

She shoved him again. “I unlocked it. You’re welcome.”

He gave her a final shove with a huff to go right along with it. “Whatever.”

“Okay, no more side tracking. Tell me your scrambly brain thoughts.”

“Alright. Um. Okay. So.” Shit. How much could he tell her without either breaking Eddie’s trust or revealing too much. “So there was drama the other night, between Eddie and the boyfriend, you know that much. I won’t say what happened but he didn’t get home until like four in the morning and he called out of work yesterday and today-”

“He called out?!” Robin shrieked, open mouthed. She’d lived with Eddie long enough and been through enough of Steve’s bitching to know just how much Eddie loved that job.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was… it wasn’t good, Birdie, what happened. It was actually really fucking fucked up.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So then yesterday he’s trying to sleep it off pretty much and there’s a knock at the door.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah and I go get it because I had assumed it would be Mrs. Henderson with some chicken noodle soup and you know I’d kill my own mother for some of that soup-”

“-I’d kill your mother for some too, yes.”

“-yeah. But it wasn’t Mrs. Henderson, it was Rick, the boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, I don’t know and he was trying to like, bully his way into the apartment to see Eddie and I don’t know what happened with me but-”

“-you went full guard dog protector mode didn’t you?”

“I…” Steve sighed, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I did. Why did I do that? It’s none of my business. I don’t even like the guy. Why would I care?”

“Because you always care, Evie. You saw someone who needed help and you helped, it’s what you do.”

Steve scoffed. “Hardly. It’s not like I’m some fucking selfless hero for doing it.”

“Nah, you kinda are.”

“It was just some guy!”

“And you’re just some guy too!”

Steve glared at her, offended. “You take that back.”

Robin looked at him for a moment. “Okay, fair, retracted.”

He gave her a small grin and dragged the sleeves of the sweater over his fingers.

“Hey! Stop, you’ll stretch it!”

“What does it matter if I stretch it, it’s mine.”

“It is not.”

“It is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!” He jabbed her in the side, knowing full well that if they continued the way they were this could go on all night. It had gone on all night more than once.

Robin squawked and immediately lunged, her hands grabbing at the top of his head.

“No, no! I told you not the hair!”

“And I told you it’s your weakness.” She hissed, her eyes flashing as he scrambled at her wrists before she could get her fingers buried deep enough.

“Boobies!” He shouted, as loud as possible. The effect was immediate, Robin tried to cringe away from him with a look of disgust. “Boobies, boobies, boobies!”

“Oh my god are you five fucking years old? Can you not say tits or breasts or fucking mammary glands or something like a damn adult?” She wrenched her wrists away from him. “I’m so embarrassed for you.”

“I’m embarrassed of your face.”

“I’m embarrassed of your weird man hair.” She scowled, patting at his chest.

“You shouldn’t be. Everyone loves the chest hair. Even the lesbians. It’s like a respect thing.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Steve pouted to himself.

He just wanted to help. He wanted to make sure Eddie was okay, that he would continue to be okay and there was this horrible little part in the back of his head that also wanted to make sure that no one would put their hands on Eddie ever like that again.

It was weird and possessive in a way he really shouldn’t have been feeling about his irritating as shit roommate who didn’t even have the courtesy to play guitar with headphones on half the time.

No matter how good his playing was.

“I can smell your hair burning.”

“What do I do now, Birdie?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I want to help, I guess. But I don’t know how. We don’t even like each other, why would he accept my help?”

“Well… how did he react when you did what you did?”

“He… I guess he… I was going to leave when Rick came to the door and he stopped me. He didn’t say anything to me, he didn’t even look at me but he grabbed onto me and… I think he was scared, Rob. I’ve never seen him scared.”

“Well Steve, I think you’re gonna do what you always do. Help. Whether you know you’re doing it or not, whether you even really mean to, you always help.”

"You're making me out to be some sort of saint."

“I’m really not.” She shook her head. “You’re just… you.”

“Wow, incredible observation there, Birdie.”

“Oh, fuck off and finish this for me.” She shoved the rest of her sub into his hands.

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #robin buckley #enemies to lovers #roommates au #roommates

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sanguineterrain · 1 year

Note

I'm BEGGING for a continuation of the drabble where Reader breaks up with Jason

Thinking of him injured and alone after almost dying is killing me 😭

this got more serious than i intended lol but i hope you like it anon! finally there is resolution!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw jason almost dies, hints of self destructive behavior, guilt, communication (i am forcing the batboys to be good communicators!!!), injured jason, dick being the bestest goodest big brother.

pt 2 to this

****

It's extremely stupid for you to be out this late, but if you hadn't left tonight, you'd probably never leave. And you needed to leave. You can't sustain whatever you and Jason had.

Asking him to quit would've been unfair, and you know he won't do it. This city pulls him back in every time.

"Where ya headed?" the cab driver asks. He doesn't look too shady. He'll definitely overcharge you, but at this point, you don't care. You just want to go home.

"Gotham Heights." You don't give him the exact address, but someplace close enough.

It's begun to rain. You try not to think about how you just left Jason. You turned off your phone as soon as you closed the door; you know he's probably calling like crazy, but as soon as you answer, you'll go back.

And you can't.

You blink back tears. You can't keep watching him throw himself into worse and worse danger. Jason fights crime like he'd sooner let it kill him. One day, it will.

The car pulls up to a stoplight. You're dozing; it's nearly eleven o'clock after all.

Suddenly, something lands on the hood. You jump, heart dropping.

"What the fuck?!" the driver squawks.

Nightwing perches on the hood of the cab. He lightly taps the windshield.

"Evening. Mind pulling over?" he asks pleasantly. "I'm actually their designated driver tonight."

"Nightwing!" you snap, hot with anger. "Get off the car!"

"You shut off your phone and left," Dick says, those white lenses zeroed in on you. His tone is cutting. "He's losing his mind. You know we don't go dark."

You close your eyes briefly. "We almost lost him, 'Wing," you croak.

"So your instinct was to leave?"

"Alright, that's it! Get outta the car," the driver says, unlocking the doors. "Fuckin' crazies..."

Dick opens the door for you and tosses a roll of twenties on the seat. The cab speeds off. You wrap your arms around yourself as he guides you to the sidewalk.

Several emotions cross Dick's face, before he lands on one. Sympathy.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

Your face crumples. "He died, Dick."

"I know," he says, holding your elbow. "I was scared too. But he's okay. He's the toughest guy I know."

"How am I supposed to keep him alive?" you ask desperately. "I can't."

Dick frowns. "That's not your job. I wouldn't expect that of you, and I know Jason doesn't either. None of us do."

You press your palms to your eyes and start to cry for real.

"I just want him to be okay. Every time he goes out, I think it'll be the last time I see him. I love him too much to lose him, Dick."

Dick hums. "Have you told him this?"

You shrug, wiping your eyes with your hand. "Some of it. I-" You wince. "I yelled before I left. He was being so nonchalant about it, and I know it was so I wouldn't worry, but..."

"I know. He can be a real pinhead about some things, but Jason's on it when it counts. He loves you a lot, and I think he'd want to know you're feeling this way."

You rub your eyes so hard you see shapes. "I don't know, Dick. I don't know if I can tonight."

Dick sighs sadly. "Alright. Look, I'll take you home. But can you at least tell him you're okay? He called me up, terrified. Said he dreamt you were in an accident."

Nightmares. The guilt triples.

You turn on your phone. Ten missed calls and fifteen unread texts pop up.

[10:38pm] Baby please come back

At least text me you're okay

I messed up, and you can leave, but at least tell me you're safe

[10:42pm] I'm calling Dick

Sweetheart don't get into a car

[10:43pm] Please don't I have a bad feeling about it

Call me please

You sniffle and tap on Jason's contact. The phone rings once before he picks up.

"Baby? Hi, hi. God, fuck. Are you okay? Is Dick there?"

Jason sounds wrecked. His voice is raw like he's been crying. Tears start to build up in your own eyes.

"H-hey, Jay. Yeah, I'm okay. Dick is here."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have scared you. Shouldn't have been reckless. I won't do that again. I won't patrol alone anymore. I'll-I'll work with Batman again. I called him just now. Told him I'd be at the Cave next week."

"Jay, don't force yourself to work with Batman for me," you say, your stomach a pit. "I don't want you to do something that'll make you miserable."

It's been better, lately, Jason's relationship with his family. It's not perfect, but then again, you wouldn't expect a family that dresses up in Halloween costumes every night to fight crime to be perfect.

"It won't!" Jason says. "Look, B and I have our differences. That's for damn sure. But I'm not so mad about it these days. And I should be safer. You were right. I want to come home to you, sweetheart, I do. If that means working in a team, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever will make us both happy and safe."

You squeeze your eyes shut. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner, Jay. I should've been."

"Oh." Jason sounds heartbroken. You can imagine him running a rough hand through his hair right now, tearing through the strands. "No, no, no. Baby, my love, listen. I don't blame you for any of this. That's not your responsibility. It's my job to keep myself alive. And Leslie's, once in a while. But I don't expect that from you. Never from you."

It's quiet for several moments. Then Jason speaks again, tone timid.

"Have I... did I make you feel that way?"

"No, you didn't," you say, opening your eyes. "Not directly. But... I don't know, Jay, I've just felt like there's nothing holding you back some days. You fight like you're fighting something inside of you." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I don't want it to burn you out for good."

Not again, you don't say.

Dick bows his head, and suddenly, you're there, watching them lower Jason Todd's body into the ground.

"I won't let it," Jason whispers. "I won't. I'm sorry I did this to you. Made you feel like this. I only ever wanna be good for you. I'm-I'm trying to be good."

Your lip trembles. "I wanna come home, Jay."

Jason makes a desperate sound, like a wounded animal. "Please come home, baby. I don't want you to leave. Wanna hold you so bad."

"Okay." You nod at the phone and look at Dick. "Can you take me home?"

He smiles, small and hopeful. "Of course."

****

Jason nearly tears the door off of its hinges before you can knock. He's probably been listening for your footsteps all evening. Your throat tightens.

"Hi, baby, hi, hi," Jason says, bracing himself against the doorframe as he pulls you into a hug. "Missed you so much. Love you so much. I'll be better, it'll be better. I promise."

You kiss his shoulder and bury your face in his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat. A-live, a-live, a-live, it says.

"Thanks, Dickie," Jason murmurs into your skin.

"Sure thing, Little Wing," Dick says, and you think he might sound a little misty-eyed. Sentimental sap.

"Thanks, D," you say softly, and Dick squeezes your shoulder.

"Get some sleep, both of you."

"You first," Jason says, and Dick laughs on his way out.

You help Jason inside, tucked under his arm, and this time, he lets you guide him to the bed. He allows you removal of your shoes and jeans before tugging you in with him.

"I'll be better," he vows, and rolls you over so you're face-to-face. "I promise."

"I believe you," you say, thumb brushing over his salt-streaked cheek. "I'm sorry I went dark, sweetie."

He shakes his head. "'S okay. Well, I mean, it's not, but I understand. I just want you safe. And here. But only if you wanna be here. I won't force you."

"Of course I want to be here, Jay," you say, kissing his cheek. "There's no place I'd rather be. I just... I want us to live."

Jason swallows and nods.

"I'll live. I will. For both of us."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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the-promise-has-been-made · 11 months

Text

Like with all Mike Flanagan shows, I have to sit and stew on The Fall of the House of Usher for a bit to let it fully settle, and then I'll probably have to rewatch it to get the full picture.

But what I can say now after the first watch has sat with me for 2 days is that compared to Hill House which dealt with grief, Bly Manor which dealt with love, and Midnight Mass which dealt with faith, House of Usher for me dealt with consequences. Madeline and Roderick were offered the deal that they could basically do whatever the heck they wanted, and all the consequences of their horrible actions would not be suffered by them. Which is essentially what capitalist super-rich experience all the time - and we, the ordinary people, suffer the consequences. It's funny that they thought it worked like that, but I guess they saw their father who suffered no consequences for abuse and for mistreating their mother whom he had ann affair with (if it even was that, and not rape) - but he did suffer consequences, he was strangeled to death by a dead woman. And Griswold, who seemingly suffered no consequences for his fraud and the many crimes of his company, except he did - he was literally cask of Amontillado'ed which is honestly the funniest thing! But for the Ushers, the consequences were suffered not just by the anonymous masses, not just by the thousands upon thousands that suffered and died because of their actions (powerfully depicted by the rain of bodies Verna showed Roderick in their meeting in his tower) and not by Madeline nd Roderick themselves, but very directly, very brutally, by their own children - who all in the span of a few days were driven insane and horrifically killed. They were offered this deal, and while Madeline had no children and made sure afterwards that she never would, Roderick already had two children by that point. He signed that deal not for some hypothetical children he might have, but for Frederick and Tammerlane who were already alive then, and for his 4 as of yet unborn children! They barely hesitated. The Ushers TOOK that choice away from their children, they doomed these children before they were even born. And they doomed even their grandchild before she was born. If that doesn't show the crippling consequences of actions we take today, I don't know what does. Every decision the rich and powerful make today has devastatign consequences for generations to come - not hypothetical, but very real and very dire consequences. But these people don't care about that, because it's not consequences they suffer NOW, so it's not their problem. The Ushers are charicaturized representations of that mindset, their children representations of the generations of people fucked over by their decisions. That's why I am torn between feeling glee at the bizarre demise each of the Usher children met (cause let's face it, they were all assholes and messed up) and at the same time feel immense pity for them (because the fact that they were assholes and messed up was almost not their fault but a product of growing up under the trauma Roderick and Madeleine suffered when they were children, and in a mindset where they genuinely believed being richer than God made them immune to cosequence, and because their fate had been decided for them without their knowledge).

But also, Verna gave EACH of these kids an option. They were all going to die, sure, but they were given the choice to do the right thing. Prospero was offered the chance to end his orgy and his filming of incriminating material but he chose to continue. Camille was offered the chance to turn around and go home and instead die peacefully in her sleep. Napoleon was offered the chance not to lie to his boyfriend and bring a fake 'cat' home, and instead go home, sober up, get his shit together, be honest about his fuck-ups. But he didn't. Victorine was offered the chance to say 'no, this treatment is not ready for human testing' but instead she deceived what she believed to be an innocent, desperate woman into essentially signing away her life. Tammerlane could have stopped her jealousy, her envy, and instead reach out to her husband, actually communicate, actually appreciate him, but she didn't. And Frederick, well, Verna spelled it out for him, didn't she? He had to bring her home, he had to bring out the pliers. He CHOSE to abuse and brutalize and mutilate his wife when she was completely defenseless, helpless, and innocent - yes she had gone to the orgy because she felt unappreciated, unseen, and nothing actually happened, she didn't cheat, her only 'crime' was chosing to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He chose to be a monster to her and to their child. All of them could have stopped, could have chosen to reflect on their actions and be better, do BETTER. Instead, they doubled down on their horrific behaviour, and sealed their own fate. All except Lenore, who until the very end chose to be good, chose to be kind, chose to see the best in people. That's why she was the only one to whom Verna appeared with kindness, giving her the certainty that her life mattered, that her sacrifice would save thousands, that her mother would do incredibly good in her name in the future, and she did not die with horror and suffering, she died peaceful, quick, quiet, like Verna had offered all the others. Verna was not so much a demon as she was the personification of "actions, meet consequences".

TLDR: The Fall of the House of Usher is the hardcore version of 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes' and will for me be part of the 'rich people actually suffer consequences for their shitty actions' cinematic universe.

#The Fall of the House of Usher #The Fall of the House of Usher spoilers #major spoilers #so many spoilers #the 'rich people meet consequences' cinematic universe

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jadeddangel · 7 months

Text

Creepypast & Marble Hornets headcannons:

Jeff the Killer:

100% sneaks into your house/ room just to wake you up randomly to spook you

If he ever took you on a date it would 100% be to the cheapest cinema in town cause my man's is broke

Your the breadwinner, you can make $2 a month and still be the breadwinner

He buys axe body spray and sags his jeans like a middle school boy and you can't convince me otherwise

Opened a nesquick Powdered milk tub with a table saw cause he couldn't get him open

Doesn't know how to undo child proof locks on meds no matter how many times you explain it to him

"No Jeff your not listening. Press down and then turn it," your voice scolded

"I'm trying! Damn you woman!!" Jeff yelled back

Yea, he never opened the jar right

Masky:

It started with you and Tim dating and then when you met masky you trying getting to know him

He ignores you at first, more focused on doing his job then dealing with his other half's lover

He's smart, he'll pick locks open jars and complete puzzles in no time flat

He doesn't make money but Tim does so indirectly he's the breadwinner

He'll start hanging out with you after getting tired of sleeping on the downstairs couch

He's not nice, like at all, he's very blunt and when it comes to any type of criticism, constructive or not, he's pointing out every miniscule flaw

Don't bother lying to him, he can see right through it and it pisses him off

It doesn't matter your gender or your sex. He's turning around when you change any form of your clothes. He's big on privacy

"Masky? C'mon masky, it's just a sweater you don't have to turn. I'm wearing a shirt underneath, " you sighed, pulling your sweater off

Masky shook his head. "I don't care sometimes you don't wear a shirt under them, and i don't wanna see your nipples," masky spoke bluntly

Yeaaaa, if you can't tell your sex life is totally (not) amazing with man

Tim:

As I said before Tim has a job, he Linda needs it to pay for his smoking habits

Speaking of smoking, he hates when you do any kind of drugs, he doesn't want you to end up like he did

He's surprising clingy behind closed doors and really likes being your little spoon

He constantly takes showers and cleans your shared home, even if no one except for you, him and masky will see it.

He has this bad habit of just buying whatever he craves, so when he goes to the store, expect the bill to be rather high

As I said before he's clingy behind closed doors but when it comes to pda the most he'll do is lock your pinkies together

"Tim, pleaseeeee I just wanna hold your hand! Just five minutes, and if you don't like it, you don't have to keep holding my hand. " You tried to bargain

Tim sighed "fine fine but you're giving me your box of cigarettes. Don't think I didn't smell them on you"

He has a sharp nose, so there's no point in trying to hide things from him

Hoodie:

Hoodie was beyond confused when he first met you, he had a whole "who what when where why?" Moment

You and brain both pay for everything so there's not really a breadwinner

Hoodie is rather quiet, it's not because he's awkward or shy, he just has nothing to say

Hoodie Hates coffee, he's more of a tea or energy drink guy

I hate to say this(no I dont), but he's a stoner, he hates all vape or smoking products except for weed

He usually sticks to weed vapes since it's less work and he can be a bit lazy when it comes to that

I mean his hygiene is ok he doesn't really shave or trim any thing but his beard but yknow he do him

Speaking of , he leaves his beard shavings all over the sink and leaves the toilet seat up

"HOODIE! GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE NOW" You shouted to get the man's attention

Hoodie walked in. "What?" He said monotonely

You pointed at the sink and then the toilet "pick up your fucking mess!!"

Hoodie shook his head "Nah I'm good. Thanks for the offer, though. "

You would probably try and beat him up if he couldn't just wollop our ass

Brian:

He's such a sweet boy,it like he's made out of cotton candy

He's mostly did cleaning and cooking on top of his job but after switching back from hoodie, he's out of commission for like a week

He picks up after himself, and does his own laundry and there's never beard trimmings in the sink

He occasionally forgets to put the toilet seat down but it's rather rare

He's not too clingy but he does cuddle up sometimes

HES A FUCKING FURNACE WHEN HE SLEEPS

"Brian pleaseee get off!! It's the middle of summer! It's too hot to be cuddling" you huffed sleepily

"Shhh just let me hold you.." Brian muttered

Ticci Toby:

Your the breadwinner. Period

You think this man has a job? Hah funny

He hates when he tics especially when you are trying to have intimate moments together

You guys have to be silly during sex especially when he has a verbal tic and just yells bird

"Fuck toby right there~" you moaned out holding onto his shoulders tightly

"I'm so c-*whistles* shit sorry~" toby moaned out a bit embarrassed

"Toby it's ok it's normal~.." you muttered a bit trying to keep your voice even

Toby nodded "fuck I lov-Birds!" Toby shouted

You both looked at eachother before bursting out laughing just holding eachother close

Overall aside from Toby's horrible moodswings at times and his "work" you guys have a pretty helpful relationship

Slenderman:

No, Just no

This man is toxic asf when you guys first meet, definitely a manipulator

He tones it down after a bit but still gaslights you into getting what he wants

When he gets angry, please down run from him- he will track you down and may or may not resort to physical violence to get you to learn your lesson

If you ask about the missing children he WILL gaslight you into thinking that's he's told you before and it hurts that you forgot and won't tell you again

Sex? What sex? You think he would let you even get close enought to see that shit happen hah very funny

"Slenderman? Cmon I'm sorry you know I didn't mean to hurt you.." you muttered softly

"No. I already told you, and you forgot.. it is insensitive of you and unwise of me to tell you again, " he responded through your mind. And though he doesn't have eyes, you could only assume he was glaring

He's not healthy for you, but you've got yourself into this for life and there's only 1 way to get out

Eyeless jack:

Just like Jeff he'll sneak into your room

You literally can't get rid of him

He won't talk or anything, just stand and stares

He doesn't cuddle and he barely touches you

He definitely tried to offer you a kidney as a way of telling you he appreciates you

No hygiene whatsoever, he doesn't shave and it takes a month before you even get him to shower

He mostly just grumbles and groans to let you know he understands what your saying

He's really smart, puzzles, locks ,and riddles are no match for him

He's blunt, when he does talk it's rare, bit it's honest and unfiltered

You guys barely have sex and honestly you've probably never seen his face

"Jack, please!! I just wanna see your face, " you whined, laying yourself over his lap

"I said no, and if you keep asking, I'll eat you. Literally, " Jack retorted

Yeaaaa he meant it literally and you could tell

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #eyeless jack #slenderman #tim masky #marble hornets #mh #marble hornets x reader #mh x reader #fluff #headcanon #jaded works🪶

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javierpena-inatacvest · 11 months

Text

Take Me Home

Summary: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Word Count: 3.2K

Pairing: husband!Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking (girl, you're plastered), allusions to smut, being a drunk, horny mess, mentions of food/eating, being hungover, Javi taking care of you, the Backstreet Boys (?!), just sweet, sweet fluff 😩

A/N: This was inspired by an ask from a sweet anon!! This made me giggle the whole time I was writing it, drunk Osita is my favorite 🤪 You know Javi would absolutely get a kick out of your drunken antics and would take such good care of you and your terrible hangover. Also who doesn't love a drunk Pop-Tart?!

This can be read as a standalone or as a part of the It's Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing you knew, it was that the first few weeks of school were never easy. You were tired, stressed, and feeling like you were running on empty. You were hesitant when some of your new coworkers had suggested all of you head to the bar for Happy Hour on Friday after work, knowing damn well you’d be absolutely exhausted. But after the week you’d had, getting drunk with your teacher friends and commiserating about the chaos that was each of your classrooms couldn’t have sounded like a better way to cap off the craziness that had been the past 5 days.

You had offered to ask one of your friends for a ride to the bar so Javi could enjoy his Friday night without having to worry about you, but Javi being Javi, had more than happily dropped you off with your friends, and planned to pick you up around 11:30, giving you what you thought was more than enough time to enjoy a few drinks and de-stress with your co-workers.

4 margaritas and 2 surprise shots of tequila later, it was safe to say the state you were in was a little more than just de-stressed.

With how much you had to drink, you had found yourself paying absolutely zero attention to any clock, and had completely forgotten that you told Javi you would meet him by the front doors when he came to pick you up. Javi had a sneaking suspicion when he pulled up to the parking lot and you were nowhere to be found, that you were probably having a much better time at the bar, and were a few drinks deeper than you intended. Well, Javi wasn’t wrong to assume that you had downed more than just a couple drinks, but what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be absolutely hammered.

Walking through the door, Javi couldn’t help but smile as he saw your familiar frame leaned against the ledge of the edge of the bar, gently rocking your head and swaying your hips to the muffled music playing under the chatter of the bar patrons. You must have been very focused on ordering whatever it was you wanted from the bartender, because you had been seemingly oblivious to Javi’s presence behind you. He firmly placed his broad hand on the small of your back, pressing his fingertips into your hips, making you immediately whip your head around in concern.

“Woah, woah, woah, don’t you dare fucking touch me, I am happily married and will glad beat the shit out of- AH! JAVI!” Your demeanor quickly shifted from a woman ready to throw down in a fist fight, to absolutely ecstatic, realizing the hand resting on your back belonged to your husband. Setting your drink down, you threw your arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight hug, pressing your face against the soft fabric of his button down shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, I thought you were some creep trying to grab my ass. But you’re not a creep, you’re my hot husband, and you can grab my ass all you want. What time is it? You smell really good.” From your giggles and rambling, Javi could tell you’d had more than your fair share to drink, trying to gently put down the glass you had picked up to take a sip from back down on the bar.

“Hi, Hermosa. I’m coming to pick you up, remember? Maybe let’s get you a water instead of finishing the rest of this, okay?” Javi smiled, passing your cup off to the bartender, and exchanging it for a new glass filled with water. Handing it off to you, your face scrunched in confusion as you took a long swing.

“This isn’t a margarita?” You questioned, handing it back to Javi, thinking that he had clearly made a mistake in ordering for you. Laughing, Javi nodded, trying to hand the water back to you.

“I know, Osita. It’s water, baby. Have a few sips and then I’m gonna take you home, alright?”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you gave him a little smirk before obliging, taking a few gulps of the water and setting it back down, crossing your arms against your chest. “Did you say you’re trying to take me home, Javier Peña?”

“Yes, I’m taking you home, you dork.” Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he picked up your coat and your purse from the back of the chair you had been perched next to. “Why don’t you go say goodbye to everyone and make sure no one else needs a ride home, okay?” You nodded, speeding off into the dwindling late night crowd, quickly finding your friends, hugging them and then pointing over at Javi, biting down on your lip, as the rest of them giggled, waving at him as he politely waved back. A few moments later, you found Javi again, stumbling through the bar, grabbing a fist full of his button up shirt, pressing up on your tiptoes to give him a long, tender kiss.

“Take me home, baby.”

After your 3rd trip to the bar bathroom and your self pep-talk in the mirror earlier, you knew you were drunk, but you hadn’t realized just how drunk you were until you found yourself trying to crawl your way into Javi’s truck, the passenger’s seat seeming much higher up than usual as you took several missed steps trying to hoist yourself into the car.

“You want help, hermosa?” Javi tried to keep his best from laughing as he watched you struggle.

“....Maybe. Jav, I think I’m actually really drunk. Or the seat got higher. I think it would be less embarrassing if the truck grew. Or maybe I shrunk… Drunk and shrunk, those rhyme, Jav!” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips, looking up at Javi’s car in frustration.

“I think you and the truck are both the same size, baby. Here… 1, 2, 3.” He smiled, grabbing you around your hips, lifting you into your seat, reaching over to click your seatbelt in before making his way to the driver’s side, strapping himself in and starting up the car. As Javi pulled out of the parking lot, you reached down to turn up the volume on the radio, turning it up even louder when you heard it was “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)” by the Backstreet Boys. Even in your plastered state, you knew how much Javi despised this song, claiming he’d heard it enough times to last him a thousand lifetimes. You, on the other hand, thought it was catchy as hell, even more so now that you were drunk.

“I don’t understand how you don’t like this song! You yelled over the music, dancing in your seat, singing along to the lyrics.

“Am I original?”

You pointed at Javi, waiting for him to sing along to the “yeah’s”, frowning when all he did was laugh at you,

“Am I the only one?”

You pointed at him again, this time getting a half assed “yeah” out of him as you poked at his shoulder.

“Am I sexual?”

You outstretched your arm towards him, raising an eyebrow and biting down on your lip as you smirked, watching Javi reluctantly sing along to the last “yeah”, shaking his head, laughing at you.

“Am I everything you need, you better rock your body now- EVERYBODYYYYYY!” You screamed, pumping your fist in the air, pretending to sing into your imaginary microphone, Javi trying to keep from bursting into hysterics from your over dramatic performance. You paused mid chorus, looking over to see him lovingly laughing at you, making you give him your most sarcastic stank face. “Are you laughing at me, Javier Jesús Peña? Are you not enjoying your concert?”

“Osita,” He grinned, reaching down to grab your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, “there’s nothing I love more than watching you sing along to whatever song it is while we drive. It’s my favorite thing. Even if you’re fucking ridiculous sometimes.”

“Nuh uh, you’re the ridiculous one, Jav. Ridiculously fucking hot. Do you like, ever look in the mirror and just admire how attractive you are? All the girls at work think so, too. They told me when I was leaving tonight that I was a lucky lady and you know what I told them? Bitch, absolutely I am. My husband is so fucking hot and sweet and perfect and to top it all off, he’s got a huge dick. Wait, maybe I didn’t say that last part to them… If I did, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry, ‘cause it’s true.” Javi practically choked on his own spit, his quiet laughter to himself halted by your last comment.

“Well, you’re very sweet, Osita. I hope for everyone’s sake you spared them the last part.” Javi laughed, giving your hand a little squeeze as you rested your head on his shoulder across the center console.

“I’m being serious, Javi! It really isn’t fair to everyone else how fucking handsome you are. Or that like, you’re fucking sex god. Can we have sex when we get home? Please please please?” You begged, trying to give him your best drunken puppy dog eyes and pouty lip, Javi gently patting your leg knowing you were in absolutely no state to do anything besides get force fed some Gatorade and ibuprofen and go to sleep.

“I think that we need to get you into bed, baby. Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“Into the bed where we have awesome sex all the time.” You retorted, shooting him a clumsy wink, pointing your finger at him. “Except this morning when we had sex in the bed and the shower. The shower is also a good place for sex. Do you remember when we had sex this morning?” You giggled, rubbing your hand over Javi’s thigh, working your way further up the denim before Javi reached down, placing your hand back in his, pulling it away.

“Yes, Osita, of course I remember. Tonight we’re just gonna get into the bed and sleep.” Javi chuckled, smiling at you with your bright red cheeks, still dancing in your seat to whatever song was playing on the radio as he turned to pull into the driveway of your house.

“Oh my gosh, we’re already home?! That was so fast. Let’s go to bed so we can sleep.” You gave Javi an overexaggerated wink as you parked in the garage, fumbling with the door handle to try and get out of the truck. Wanting to make sure you didn’t topple out of the passenger seat, Javi quickly unbuckled his seat belt, walking around to your side of the car, helping you down. You shot off to the door, fighting with the locked doorknob to try and get it open, instantly turning to panic when you realize it wouldn’t budge. “Jav! Jav! I forgot to bring my keys with me, I think we’re locked out of the house, I’m so- Oh. Nevermind.” Javi came up behind you, dangling his keys before reaching down to unlock the door. You stumbled through the mudroom and down the hallway, your eyes lighting up as you realized you were passing the kitchen. Trying to dart your way towards the pantry, you forgot that you had kicked off your shoes only a few moments earlier, making you slip and stumble on the hardwood floor, promptly landing you right on your ass.

“Jesus Hermosa, are you okay?” Javi rushed over, eyes wide with concern as he watched you tumble, trying to pick you up from the hysterical heap you had fallen into.

“I forgot I had socks on and I slipped. I’m such a fucking idiot, oh my god, that had to have looked so funny. My butt is gonna hurt tomorrow.” You cackled, hoisting your body up as Javi pulled you to stand, holding his hands firm on your hips, making sure you were stable.

“Alright, c’mon Osita, we’re almost to bed.”

“Wait, wait, I want Pop-Tart though! That’s why I was running to the kitchen!” You protested, Javi grabbing you to stop you before you tried to run full force down the hallway and slip again.

“I will get you a Pop-Tart, you just get yourself into bed, okay? I’ll be there in a second.” Javi pleaded with you, trying to direct you back down the hallway towards the bedroom, hoping you would go and he wouldn’t have to wrangle you any further.

“You promise?” You frowned, poking Javi’s chest, standing your ground until you were positive you were getting a Pop-Tart before you fell asleep. Javi leaned down, planting a soft kiss in your hair, brushing a stray piece away from your face, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, I promise.”

That was all it took to have you dancing down the hallway towards the bedroom, back to singing to yourself with each step.

“Everyboddyyyyy, rock your booooddyyy. Rock your body right. Back Street’s back, alright!”

Finally seeing you had made your way into your room, Javi made his way to the kitchen, shuffling through the pantry to grab a shiny silver Pop-Tart wrapper, a red Gatorade and a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet before quickly heading back down the hall, your singing now muffled as Javi found you laying face down in the bed, still fully clothed. Javi wasn’t going to let you fall asleep in jeans and a sweater, so he carefully flipped you over, making you giggle as he began to unbutton your pants, shuffling them down your legs.

“I thought you said we weren’t having sex tonight, so why are you undressing me, hmmm?” You sassed, wiggling your bottom half to help Javi get your jeans off before he grabbed your arms, pulling you up to sit and prompting you to lift up your arms, stripping you of your top. “Are you trying to look at my boobs? I want a piece of Pop-Tart before you get a free show.”

“I’m just trying to get you in pajamas, baby. I’m not gonna let you fall asleep in what you wore to the bar. How about this, if you can get yourself in some pajamas, I’ll give you your Pop-Tart.” Javi chuckled, rolling his eyes at the ridiculous compromise he was finding himself making with his drunken wife.

“You strike a hard bargain, Mr. Peña. Fine, I will put on pajamas. Only because I love you very, very, very, very, very much. And I really want that Pop-Tart.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as Javi threw you one of his t-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts, haphazardly trying to wrestle them onto your body before flopping back down on the bed. “Okay, they’re on! Pop-Tart me, bitch.”

“Did you just say Pop-Tart me, bitch?” Javi snorted, looking at you, sprawled out like a starfish, his shirt draped over your body backwards.

“Pop-Tart me, bitch. Please.” You replied, smugly nodding your head, pointing finger guns at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. I’m gonna go close up the house and then I’ll be back in bed. I love you, Osita.” Javi grinned, planting a kiss on your forehead, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I love you too, Javi. My Pop-Tart and my pussy are both ready for you when you get back.” You giggled, reaching over to grab the shiny, silver snack package Javi had left for you on your nightstand, now grabbing it like a microphone as you sang into it. “Back Street’s back, alrightttttt!”

“Jesus Christ…” Javi laughed, shaking his head as he gave you one last kiss before making his way back out of the bedroom, leaving you happily humming as you nibbled on the corner of your Pop-Tart, propped up on your stack of pillows. It didn’t take long for Javi to close up around the house, making sure to grab an extra package of Pop-Tarts and a big glass of water from the kitchen on his way back. “How’s the Pop-Tart, Osita?” Javi asked, gently closing the door behind him.

Silence.

“Osita?” He asked again, this time turning around to see that your singing and giggles had come to an end as you were passed out cold, sprawled out on top of the covers, Pop-Tart resting on your chest, rising and falling slowly with your soft snores. Javi laughed to himself, carefully taking the Pop-Tart off your chest and lifting you up to tuck you in under the covers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Ducles sueños, Osita. Te amo mucho, loca (Sweet dreams, little bear. I love you so much, crazy.)

The next morning, you could hear yourself audibly groan as you turned over in the bed, shielding yourself from the sunlight peeking through the cracks in your curtain, head pounding from the brightness. You rubbed your eyes, squinting as you looked over at your nightstand to see the red letters of your alarm clock reading “10:37 A.M.” and the shiny glare of an opened Pop-Tart package, covered by a blue sticky note. You twisted over, realizing that Javi’s side of the bed was empty, before turning back with a grunt, reaching over to grab the sticky note.

Morning Osita. There’s Advil and Gatorade for you when you wake up. I think you may need it. I’ll have breakfast for you whenever you get up, unless you just want the Pop-Tart.

Love you

-J

Slowly, you hoisted yourself up, grabbing the Gatorade and pills Javi and left for you, popping them in your mouth, followed by a big swig of your drink, running both your hands over your face before letting out a deep sigh and sliding out of bed. You trudged down the hallway, rubbing your hand on your hip to ease the bruising pain you had felt since getting out of bed, greeted by the smell of breakfast in the kitchen, and Javi sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Javi chuckled, peeking over the top of his newspaper as he watched you as you stumbled your way into one of the empty kitchen chairs next to him at the table.

“I feel like shit.” You groaned, propping your elbows up on the table, resting your face in your hands. Javi set down his paper, draping his arm over your back, tracing small circles with his thumb along your still backwards shirt as he planted a soft kiss in your messy, sleepy hair.

“You were pretty drunk last night, Osita. Did you see the note I left for you?” Javi laughed quietly, shaking his head as he continued to rub your back. You turned your head over, looking up at Javi’s sympathetic gaze, scrunching your face as you let out a deep sigh.

“Yes thank you, oh my god, that Gatorade and Advil is gonna save my life. Why the hell was there a Pop-Tart on my nightstand?” You mumbled, reaching over to steal a sip of Javi’s coffee, accidentally letting a little dribble fall down onto your shirt, you were just now realizing it wasn't on right. “Wait, is my shirt backwards? My ass hurts like hell too, what the hell happened last night?”

“Why don’t I get you some breakfast and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Taglist:

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rockstarhaechan · 8 months

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after hours | lee haechan part. 2

pairing: lee haechan x fem!reader

warnings: rockstar hyuck, fwb, smut, cum eating, choking, fingering, oral (m/ receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex (do not), overstimulating, breeding kink, rest of nct dream being mentioned, alcohol & drugs, angst, car sex, pet names (doll, love, darling)

summary: haechan and his band mates were having a lot of concerts in your area, you two always hooked up in the after hours of his concerts, recklessly getting drunk and high, you’ve got fucked by the universe when you started to catch feelings for him.

part one ! next part ?

“what are we gonna do when we get home doll?” he asked you as he turned on the engine, waiting for your answer.

“what about round two?” looking at him while grinning, he pressed down on the gas pedal, eyes locking with yours.

“round two sounds great doll” he smiled before looking at the road again while holding your hand.

haechan opened the door for you as you climbed out of his car taking his hand into yours.

it didn’t even take long until your lips reunite with each other, tongues fighting, but haechan won this time, picking you up as you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

“how are you gonna open the door?” breaking the kiss looking into his eyes, they show pure lust for whatever is gonna happen between the two of you.

“i’m just gonna open the door like a normal person” he laughed while getting the key out of his pocket twisting the lock open guiding you into his home.

haechan hungrily kissed you again, his hands resting on your ass, pulling you closer to him as soft moans were heard in between your kisses.

he carefully walked over to his kitchen, placing you down on the counter as he stood between your spread legs, drawing circles on the inside of your thighs, kisses traveling down your neck stopping at your cleavage.

you can already feel how wet you’ve gotten just by haechan doing his thing on you and as his hand moves even closer to your core you started feeling a tight knot forming in your stomach.

“you’re so needy doll, so wet for me and i already fucked you senseless” he laughed as he inserted two fingers into your dripping cunt.

your mind was blank and you didn’t even noticed how much your body was craving his touch, you fell in love with haechan over the past weeks and you never noticed, not even now as he’s two fingers deep buried inside of you.

“oh fuck hyuck” being the moaning mess you are, trying to close your legs but haechan opened your legs back up with ease, wrapping one hand around your neck, squeezing oh so lightly trying not to hurt you.

haechan liked how rough he could be on you not needing to care about a few bruises or scratches on your body cause it turned you on as much as it turned haechan on.

without any warning he dragged you down from the counter and as soon as your feet got in contact with the ground he turned you around with your back facing him, parting your legs with one of his feet while letting your upper body rest on the countertop.

“you gotta be really quiet doll, don’t want those neighbors to hear you” his voice was soft but you knew he wasn’t gonna be soft on you as you heard his belt being ripped out of his pants and soon felt on your ass cheek letting you breath in harshly with tears forming in your eyes.

haechan unbuttoned his pants before dropping them on the floor with his boxers, pumping himself a few times before lining himself up between your legs, slowly pushing his cock into you.

“fuck doll taking me so well” he groaned while grabbing your ass as he started to move slowly, picking up a faster pace after a few seconds, slamming your hips against the counter each time.

haechan wasn’t going easy on you but you’re still a moaning mess enjoying each and every single moment you two are together.

one of your hands moved to haechan’s hand holding him tightly as you tried to get some words out of your mouth, but almost immediately giving up cause you’re unable to speak properly, tears streaming down your face.

“what’s wrong doll huh?” he asked as his thrusts began to become sloppier and inconsistent as he waited for your answer, giving you a few seconds to breathe.

“g-gonna c-cum fuck” you stuttered, cheek pressing on the counter just when you heard haechan laugh a little, picking up his pace once again, hands digging into your hips almost making you choke on your own spit.

“fuck you wanna come around my dick doll?” he groaned letting out small whimpers as you reached out for his hand once again, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten coming undone around his cock trying to catch your breath.

haechan on the other hand didn’t really care, he slammed his dick into you in an immense pace almost reaching his own peak.

his thrusts were getting faster and sloppier and his groans got louder.

your mind? currently unavailable, haechan fucked you into a new world, leaving you completely breathless with a tear stained face and ruined make up.

“fuck” was all he said before cumming into you, moving back and forth basically fucking his cum back into you.

he turned you around slowly pulling you into a long hug whispering sweet words into your ear, promising you the world which made you fall for him even harder.

haechan did promise you the world a lot, but was he ever doing anything? no he wasn’t but you couldn’t care less, everything he did was perfect for you.

he had no time for a relationship with you yet he still fell for you too, but he would never bother telling you anything about his feelings for you because he rather keeps stuff to himself not wanting to make you worry.

but what if you want to tell him one day? you definitely want more you just don’t know it yet.

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sturn1olo-ffics · 2 months

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- “ALRIGHT BABY” -

pt. 1 | pt. 2

- Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns)

- Warnings: use of y/n, angst, hatred, swearing, making out, drinking, I think that’s it? I hope 😭; NOT PROOFREAD

- About: Matt and y/n have always hated each other. Their personalities clashed and honestly, y/n just had the BIGGEST crush on Chris. And Matt hated that. So. Much.

—————————————————————————————

MATT’S POV:

I really don’t want to go to this party tonight but it’s Tara’s birthday so I want to show her support.

“MATTTTTT!!!!!” Chris screamed from downstairs.

“Fucking what????” I yelled back.

“Are you almost ready? We gotta leave bro.” he said.

“Chris I’ve been ready I don’t even know what we’re waiting on.” I said back, lowkey confused.

“We’re waiting on y/n to get here, she was stuck in traffic.” Nick yelled from the kitchen.

“Of course she’s the hold up.” I snapped.

“Dude chill it’ll be alright.” Chris laughed.

*30 minutes passes and they’re all in y/n’s car, driving to Tara’s party*

Y/N’s POV:

“Alright so Imma leave y’all to whatever y’all wanna do because I’m getting DRUNK!” I laughed while Matt glared over.

“Okay well let us know when you’re ready to leave… and give me those damn car keys.” Nick laughed back.

Nick handed my keys to Matt, who would obviously be driving us home. I didn’t want him touching my things but I had no other option.

“Hey Jake!” I ran right into Jake Webber when I walked in.

“Hey! You want a drink??” He offered me a drink and I chugged it.

I hadn’t drank in a while because I was trying to focus on college instead of partying and drinking. But one night couldn’t hurt.

I felt a hand grab onto my waist from behind.

It was Chris.

“Hey?? What’s up??” I exclaimed, confused.

“Hey I just wanna stay by you tonight, make sure you’re gonna be okay.” He whispered in my ear.

Chris always cared about me a little more than everyone else. And it definitely didn’t help that I had a huge thing for him. I mean, who wouldn’t? Look at him bro.

But I had no chance with him. He said I was like a sister to him and, honestly, I’m not about the incest life…

On a real note though, he was my best friend. And I don’t want to mess that up.

MATT’S POV:

I saw Chris place a hand on her waist.

Why the hell was that pissing me off? I don’t even like her as a person.

I kept an eye on her the whole night. I know how she acts when she gets drunk and I’d rather her not embarrass us.

*2 hours passes and y/n has had a LOT to drink*

“Hey Matt-” she leaned on me. So unlike her.

“Get off. What?” I pushed her away.

“I don’t feel good, can you get me an Uber? You can take my-” she started before I cut her off.

“No. You’re not taking an Uber like this. That’s dangerous.” I responded.

“Well then how the fuck am I supposed to get home?” she snapped.

“I will take you. Come on.” I picked her up by the waist and threw her over my shoulder.

“Matt!!!! Put me down!!!” she squealed.

“No. You can barely walk.” I laughed.

Y/N’s POV:

What the hell. Why was that kinda… ok no I need to chill.

“What about Nick and Chris??” I questioned.

“They’re getting a ride from Carrington, it’s alright.” he responded.

He opened the car door and placed me in, buckling me up before closing the door and walking to the other side.

“Matt?” I asked, quietly.

“What?” He snarked.

“You know I’m not really drunk right?” I laughed.

“Y/n-” he started.

“I just wanted to go home but didn’t wanna seem lame.” I laughed. Which, I mean, I was telling the truth. It was all an act. “But please don’t turn the car around.”

“You know you could’ve just told me that…? I wasn’t gonna think you were lame.” He pulled the car over to talk.

“You don’t think I’m lame?” I giggled.

“Oh please, sure I do.” Matt put the car in park. “Do you wanna drive? It’s your car…” he asked.

“No… I’m too tired.” I yawned.

“Alright baby.” he turned to face the wheel again, not even realizing what he just said.

“… baby?” I was in utter shock. Matt HATES me. Where in the hell did this come from???

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.” he turned to face me again.

“No it’s just… where did that come from…?” I laughed.

“You want me to show you where that came from?” he looked down at my lips, then back up to my dilated eyes.

“Wha-” I started before I was cut off by Matt’s lips grazing my ears.

“Let me kiss you.” he demanded.

Since when did he become so hot?

Without a thought, I pressed my lips to his.

The kiss was passionate and greedy. Like he had been wanting to do that for years.

I pulled back.

“You know-” I laughed before he cut me off.

“Shh” he whispered.

He grabbed my waist and pulled me closer. He pushed the seat back and guided me over the center console.

He trailed kisses down my neck, onto my bare chest which had been exposed by the neckline of my top. Leaving bruises for the world to see.

His playlist played in the background.

Minutes passed by of us sloppily kissing each other until we couldn’t breathe.

“Do you still hate me?” he pulled back.

“I don’t know if I ever did.” I stared into his bright blue eyes.

“I know you never did.” he smirked. Making me trace back to all the times I stared at him just a little too long.

“Can we do this more often?” I laughed, climbing back into the passenger seat.

“Oh baby you’re mine. I’ve already marked you up.” he placed a hand on my chest, trailing his finger up my neck, then dragging my lip down with it.

How the hell do I explain this to Nick and Chris??? Do I just not say anything?? I have to, they’re gonna find out. Especially if me and Matt are together. But did he really mean that I’m HIS?

—————————————————————————————

A/N: Hi guys!!!! I’M BACKKKKKK!!!!!! Sorry if this fic was a little rusty…. it’s been a while. Sorry it’s so short!! But, I hope to make it multiple parts if this does well. So, I hope you see the vision?? I was so busy with school I crashed out LOLLL. But I’m back and better than usual. I hope to stay writing fics for a while longer. But we’ll see. Send reqs in my inbox for a part 2!! 🤍🤍 Maya :)

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ladykailitha · 3 months

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Icarus Part 12

I've decided that since I have a fair amount of backlog on the three I've been doing WIP Wednesday for, that I'd post some of them to give me time to work on the rom-com AU more.

I recommend going back and re-reading part 11 at least before reading this one to be on the safe side.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

The Fallen boys need a break and Robin and Chrissy meet up with Nancy.

****

Things were going really well in the studio now that they had Bob Newby as their producer and their studio was closer to home so they could live their normal lives and still be in the studio recording.

It was the happiest the band had been in awhile. Which was why Steve should have seen it coming. The dark cloud on the horizon.

Shane was late.

That wasn’t to say that it was out of the ordinary or whatever, but it was now two hours late and Spence was pissed.

“When I get my hands on his scrawny neck,” he hissed. “I’m going to kill him.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re just upset because it’s means you’ll be late for your date or whatever with Nadia. He’ll be here.”

“That’s not true and you know it, Asmodeus,” Spence bit out. “This is the third time this week and yeah, so what if I have a life outside of this, but that’s not why.”

Just then Shane stumbled in. He looked like absolute shit. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was a mess, and he wore dark sunglasses. Clutched to his chest was a large coffee.

“Fuck...” he mumbled as he shambled over to the sofa. He lowered himself gently onto the thing with a stream of curses. “Sorry I’m late, but my hookup last night turned off my alarm.”

He took a long sip of his coffee and rubbed his temple. He had finished most of the coffee when he realized that no one had said a word since he arrived.

The door opened and Bob and Robin entered the room looking more than a little cross.

Shane flashed them a smile. “Uh oh, it looks like I upset both mom and dad. So I was a little late. It happens.”

“But it shouldn’t be happening,” Spence said with a scowl. “This isn’t the first time. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week.”

Shane frowned, setting his coffee on the floor between his feet. He rubbed his temples as he struggled to think back. “That can’t be right, it’s only Monday, right?”

Everyone shared concerned glances.

“Astraeus,” Steve said slowly, “it’s Thursday.”

Bob crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You were late on Sunday, Monday and today, Astraeus.”

Shane stared up at them in open shock and disbelief. “There’s no way!” He pulled out his phone and looked at the date.

“Shit.”

“What’s been going on, man?” Simon asked, concerned for the first time. He hadn’t realized how often it had been and was giving Spence shit for wanting to be with his girlfriend.

Shane shook his head. “I have money for the first time in my life. I mean proper money. My parents always had enough to make sure we got into the things we wanted; sports, drama, music, you name it, but there wasn’t a lot of money to go around after, you know? I had to pay for my college education myself and I just wanted to live a little. Spread the money around, even if I couldn’t tell them what I did for a living, they don’t really care.”

“I can see that,” Robin said. “I think we all breathing easier, regardless of our backgrounds because the money we’re getting has pretty much set us up for life if it all went to shit tomorrow, which I really wouldn’t recommend, by the way.”

Shane let out a huff of breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I really didn’t mean to go off like that, I’ll cut back to just the weekends. I promise.”

Robin and Bob shared a glance.

“That’s strike one, Astraeus,” Bob said, “I don’t take slackers lightly. You want me to continue to work for you guys, you’ve got to step it up.”

Shane nodded empathically. “Can we have a day off a week though? It doesn’t have to be on the weekend, but this seven days a week is really hard.”

Robin blinked at him a moment. “You guys have been coming every day?”

The band looked around at each and all gave a collective shrug.

She turned to Bob. “Is that your schedule?”

Bob’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “I only do that if there’s a rush to get the album out, which I understood there wasn’t. I don’t how we got on working every day, but Astraeus is correct they need a day off.”

“What works best for everyone?”

The band worked out a better schedule that worked for everyone with it ending with Bob giving everyone the rest of the week off, giving them strict instructions to talk to him about those sort of things before it got to this point.

Robin clapped her hands once. “Right, now that we’ve got that settled, we’re still meeting up at Abbadon’s for dinner to discuss my meeting with Nancy. My meeting is at three and dinner is at six, so don’t be late.” She glared at Shane and he raised his hands in surrender.

“See you all then!”

****

Robin straightened her wig in her rearview mirror and added more lipstick. She wore special contacts that changed her bright blue eyes to a more common brown color. She was dressed in slim fitting white slacks with a bright pink silk blouse and a black leather aviator’s jacket. She hated wearing these clothes, they just weren’t her. At least she didn’t have to wear high heels to this thing. She would have broken an ankle for sure.

But she would sell her soul to the devil if it meant that Steve got to do what he loved. And it wasn’t as though she didn’t love her job either. But Eddie was right, she was on her last frayed nerve and that wouldn’t do her boys any good.

She slid out of her Maserati MC20 and walked up to the restaurant. The Corroded Coffin’s manager, Chrissy Cunningham was going to be there as a mediator.

Robin hadn’t told Steve this, but Chrissy knew who she was. Not the band, she didn’t know that, but she knew that Celeste Baptiste was Robin Buckley. It was just something Robin felt she needed to know before going in there with Nancy. That she personally had a stake in the game, even if it was just as Steve’s best friend.

Chrissy loved the idea of even their manager having an alter ego and it made Robin feel better about her choice to be someone else.

Robin and Chrissy kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting and Robin sat down.

“She’s not here yet?” she asked, looking at her matching watch.

Chrissy shook her head. “She’s running a little behind. One of her clients blew up the internet last night and she’s been having to play hard ball to keep it from destroying their career.”

Robin leaned in close. “Ooh, do you know who it was?”

“That’s for me to know,” Nancy said from above them, “and for you to never find out.”

Robin looked up at her and was struck on how good she looked. It was almost unfair how good she looked.

She was wearing a grey plaid blazer with the sleeves rolled up over a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She wore grey boots and matching sunglasses, glasses she took off with a shake of her dark curls.

Robin gulped. Nancy had been intimidating enough in high school, but now she could stare down a raging bull and come away unscathed.

“Hello, ladies,” Nancy said with a smile. “I’m sorry I was late, but I think I managed a god damn miracle and could eat an entire salad bar.”

Nancy sat down and put her phone in her purse.

“Oh are you vegan?” Chrissy asked as the waiter came up with a pitcher of water. Nancy waved him off and ordered a rosé.

“Just vegetarian,” she said with a shake of her head. “I love cheese too much. Plus, I knew a militant vegan and they scare me.”

Robin laughed. “Couldn’t be me, I went full vegan last year and haven’t looked back.”

Nancy and Chrissy both winced, but for different reasons, Nancy for her comment about militant vegans and Chrissy, well...

“I picked this place because it has the best rib eye steak on the planet,” she said with a grimace. “That’s not going to bother either of you if I order that, right?”

Nancy and Robin shared a glance and then shook their heads.

“My best friend loves steak,” Robin said, “It’s his choice to eat it, I just a have a problem with the ethical consumption of meat and other animal products.”

“Most of my clients eat meat,” Nancy agreed. “I’m not about to piss them off because I don’t like the taste.”

Chrissy relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Great!”

She picked up her menu to hide her embarrassment. A few minutes later, their waiter came back and they placed their orders.

Nancy had ordered a pasta with roasted sun dried tomatoes and mushrooms and Robin ordered a simple salad with a vinaigrette.

As they waited for their food, Nancy got down to business. “So as I understand it, the band The Fallen is looking for an agent to help with the legal and PR aspect of their brand, correct?”

Robin nodded, twisting her napkin nervously. Normally as Celeste, she was cooler under pressure but Nancy scared her. Not because of anything she could do to her specifically, but because what she could do to her boys.

Chrissy reached out and laid her hand over Robin’s fidgeting ones. Robin let out a shuddered breath.

“Normally bands like theirs have teams and teams of people doing all the work,” Robin said, “but with the secrecy surrounding their identities the more people that know the easier it is for a leak.”

Nancy nodded. “It’s certainly not the usual thing. But I’ve got a few clients that are strict about their identities and it wouldn’t be a problem, but as I told Chrissy, I would have know everything about them so that I can do my upmost to protect them.”

“Did you sign the NDA?” Robin asked, straightening her spine. This was something she was good at. Protecting her boys and she would do it with the fierceness of a mother bear and her cubs.

Nancy picked up her briefcase and opened it up. She took out a folder and handed it to Robin. Robin looked it over and then nodded.

She stuck it in her purse and pulled out a hard portfolio and slid it across to Nancy. Chrissy squeezed her hand as Nancy read through the documents. Their food arrived in the interim and she set it aside. She steepled her hands and planted her elbows on the table.

“How much of this do you know?” she asked Chrissy.

“Only what I needed to which is who Celeste is,” she replied, “and that both her and Abbadon have a history with you that could be trouble for a lot of people, not just the band.”

Nancy nodded and took a bite of her food before saying anything else. Chrissy and Robin exchanged glances but started eating as well. More for something to do in the intervening silence than because they were actually interested in food at that moment.

After a few moments Nancy blotted her lips with her napkin and set it next to her plate. “This is not what I was expecting when I heard that you had concerns about my professionalism and in all honesty, this is easier to understand then a manager thinking they don’t need the help of an agent when they really do.”

Chrissy and Robin shared a glance.

“Is that something that’s common?” Chrissy asked. Corroded Coffin had already had Nancy as their agent when she became their manager five years ago. They had outgrown their former manager Murray Bauman and was looking for someone younger to manage them so they hired her.

Nancy nodded. “It is.” She turned to Robin. “You’re his best friend, right? The quirky band chick who was always working with him?”

Robin was impressed with her way of asking the question without revealing anything significant about their identity. She brought her finger up to her contact and moved it aside to show the blue underneath before sliding it back into place.

“I’m assuming I’m the last resort?” Nancy asked after taking another bite of food.

Robin and Chrissy shared another glance.

“Not in the way you mean,” Chrissy explained. “I gave her a list of agents that might be able to have them on as clients and we’ve met with a couple of them but decided even before they got to what’s in the folder that they weren’t suitable for their needs.”

“The double lives aspect, I suspect.”

“Both of them wanted to push them into revealing themselves,” Robin said, nodding. “Which was completely off the table.”

Nancy licked her bottom lip and her eyes narrowed. “Is that off the table indefinitely or will we circle back to that sometime in the future?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “There’s no way to predict if they’re going to change their mind five-six years down the line.”

“I’m going to be frank,” she said, “I do not have a problem repping them. Not even Abbadon. But I understand there will be some awkwardness on both sides at first. I will even apologize in person. Because the fact of the matter is, I did hurt him. I strung him along until something better came along and then didn’t even have the decency to break up with him before moving on. I was young and stupid and even worse, I’m not even with that guy anymore. Like with me and Abbadon, we wanted different things.”

“Apologize first,” Chrissy said with a wicked gleam in her eye, “then we’ll see about hiring you for The Fallen.”

Nancy reached out to shake Robin’s hand. “Deal?”

Robin nodded curtly. “Deal.”

They moved onto the more tedious aspects of what they wanted out of Nancy as they finished their meals.

But as Robin was heading back to her car she had a small satisfied smile on her face. Yes, this really was the best option for the band.

****

Because of canon-Chrissy's unhealthy relationship with food, I wanted her to go hard into eating all things that her mom most likely forbade her from eating growing up. Hence the steak and the wine. Nancy I figured would be at least vegetarian with personality (just the vibes I get from her *shrug*) and Robin would absolutely be vegan. Just not a militant one.

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Text

The Babysitter Chronicles - Henderson

steve harrington and dustin henderson || 1.8k words || CWs: none || 5+1 Steve asks for permission to babysit the kids, and one time he's asked in return; post season 2 AU

~~~

This has been the worst week of Steve’s life.

Not only does Nancy think he’s bullshit, he found out she never actually loved him, she cheated on him, and she partially blames him for Barb’s death.

He was almost eaten alive by alternate dimension monster demodogs, almost died at the hands of Billy fucking Hargrove, almost died in the backseat of Billy’s car, and then almost died again in the tunnels.

He’s pretty sure he has a serious concussion and a broken nose. The stitches on his forehead are starting to itch. He’s had a migraine every day since, and there’s ringing in his ears.

Steve honestly thought he could put all of this Upside-Down shit behind him. Pack it away in a tiny box and move on. Yet he was dragged into it once again, forced to protect kids he barely knows from both monsters and humans.

He deserves to get paid for this shit, to be honest.

He’s got no friends to sit with at lunch, no girlfriend to love him, and no parents at home to take care of him.

After spending the week at home alone, wallowing and recovering, he found himself thinking of the kids. It was the first time he felt anything other than misery and physical pain. But they were big, complicated emotions that he’s still untangling. He’s been able to pick out fear and anxiety, annoyance, exasperation, and– surprisingly– fondness. When he thinks of the kids, he’s hit with a surge of fierce protectiveness and devotion.

He’s got nothing to show for his life and no one to spend it with. Those kids, though, needed him in a way he’s never felt before. It was life or death, and they trusted him to keep them safe. Now that it’s over, even If he isn’t necessarily wanted, maybe he could at least continue being useful.

Which is how he finds himself pulling up to the same curb as he did a week ago. At least this time he’s not here about the Upside-Down; although, knowing Dustin, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Steve!” Dustin’s running out the front door and down the driveway in just a t-shirt and sweatpants despite the chilly November morning. He plows into his chest at full speed and almost sends them both toppling over. “Steve, holy shit you’re here! Oh shit your face.”

“Hey man, language ok?” Jesus, the mouth on this kid. “Relax twerp, ease up on the hug, you're killing my ribs.”

Dustin immediately drops his arms and backs away, looking cowed. Steve’s going to have to work on his approach, apparently the kid’s sensitive. Or maybe Steve’s still a bit of a bully, another part of himself that needs to be fixed.

“It’s ok, Dustin, don’t worry about it. Just a little sore still.”

He perks back up again, bouncing up and down on his heels. The little gremlin’s toothless smile is so damn cute Steve wants to give him a noogie.

“Ok then,” Dustin replies, “so why are you here?”

“Uhhh, actually I’m here to talk to your mom.” Feeling suddenly awkward, Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. He hisses as it pulls on his stitches.

“My mom?” he asks, incredulously. “Why? What’s going on?”

Steve supposes he should’ve thought of this. It makes more sense to talk with Dustin before actually asking his mom for permission, but he hadn’t practiced this part. Now here he is, facing down an over-dramatic middle schooler and he’s actually nervous about it.

“Yeah, I kind of noticed you’re an only child, and you don’t really have a dad around.”

Dustin’s face falls, morphing into a scowl. Shit, Steve’s barely said one word and he’s already messing this up.

“Not all of us have rich parents who buy us whatever they want,” the kid huffs, crossing his arms and kicking non-existent rocks.

“No wait, ok look I’m sorry Dustin, that’s not what I meant. I’m not really great at talking about stuff like this. The important stuff anyways. Let me try again. Please?”

The kid’s still scowling, but his body relaxes a bit and he nods.

“Ok I’ll start over,” Steve continues. “Even though we were dealing with all of the Upside-Down shit and it was literally the worst week of my entire life, I enjoyed having you around. I’d sleep better at night if I knew you twerps are safe and I know you don’t really have anyone around other than your mom and the other gremlins–”

“The Party.”

Steve stares at him, mouth hanging open as he’s cut off mid-sentence. He’s in the middle of pouring his heart out to this mouthy ten year old and he’s got the audacity to interrupt him.

“The what now?”

“The Party, Steve.” The little shit’s tone is overflowing with condescension. “The group. We’re called the Party. You know, like in DnD?”

“What the hell is a dandy?”

“You, kind of,” Dustin mutters under his breath. Steve doesn’t really know what that means and coming from this kid he probably doesn’t want to. “D and D stands for Dungeons and Dragons, Steve. It’s a role playing game.”

“Whoa, alright I think you’re a little too young to be playing role playing games.”

“I’ve literally been playing for three years.”

“You’ve been roleplaying since you were seven?”

“I’m thirteen Steve!” He’s pretty sure Dustin’s screeching can be heard from the other side of town. “What are we even talking about right now? Why are you here, at my home, looking for my mom?”

“I want to be your goddamned babysitter!” Steve screams back. He takes a deep breath– in and out. This kid’s going to be the death of him, he just knows it.

He looks down to find Dustin’s eyes wide and mouth formed in a perfect oval. The kid’s shocked, either from what Steve said or that he literally shouted it in his face. Now it’s Steve’s turn to kick rocks. He shuffles back and forth, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from tugging his hair again.

“You guys almost died, man,” Steve says softly, avoiding eye contact. It makes this part easier. “You almost died, and if I hadn’t been there, I have no idea what would’ve happened. Maybe you all would’ve been fine, I don’t know. But it was my job to keep you safe, and you don’t have anyone else around except your mom and the grem– I mean the Party– to look out for you. I had to quit basketball thanks to Billy, and Nancy broke up with me. My parents are literally never home, so I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands. Figure I could use some of that time keeping you out of trouble.”

Dustin’s face hasn’t changed, still devoid of any emotion other than shock. God damnit, Steve really messed this up. He looks around and rubs the back of his neck. His skin’s prickling with nerves as he starts to sweat and he takes a step backwards towards the safety of his car.

This was a stupid idea. Why would any of these kids want anything to do with him? He’s nothing like them: smart, nerdy, can save the world without taking a beating. Steve thought he could be useful, worthwhile to someone– to Dustin. He should know better by now.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just going to go,” Steve says. But as he turns to leave, Dustin slams into him once more. Steve’s breath whooshes from his lungs and a lightning strike of pain travels up his back. He thinks he’s shaking from the pain, except his crewneck is starting to feel damp against the kid’s face and he can see Dustin’s shoulders practically vibrating. “Hey, Dustin. Hey it’s ok, are you alright? What’s wrong man, talk to me.”

Dustin doesn’t look up, just keeps his face buried in Steve’s sweatshirt and grips him tighter. It hurts and it aches and it pulls at all of his injuries. He still lets Dustin hold on for as long as he needs to.

There’s a slight movement out of the corner of his good eye, and he glances up towards the house to see a small, curvy woman smiling at them through the window. Not wanting to dislodge Dustin, he slightly lifts his hand to wave. He’s surprised when she honest to God clutches her heart and wipes what he assumes is a tear from her eye.

Steve’s already worried he screwed this whole thing up. He definitely didn’t think it would happen in front of a goddamned audience.

The kid’s still holding on, but the shaking has subsided and he’s breathing easier. Steve smashes his hat to ruffle his hair, and Dustin backs off with a shriek. His face is covered in red blotches matching his bloodshot eyes. Steve looks down at his sweatshirt to find a tears-snot-spit wet patch stained into his chest.

“Dude, gross,” Steve huffs. At least he’s wearing an undershirt. Dustin just chuckles.

“Like friends?” Dustin asks, still wiping at his face. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, hanging out. Whenever you’re not busy, I mean.”

It’s Steve’s turn to feel a burn behind his eyes. Relief fills him with warmth as his growing anxiety is washed away. Dustin wants him around. He wants to spend time with him and Steve never really thought he’d get this far. All he had was a half-baked idea to serve himself up for the one thing he knows he’s good for. And he was wanted.

He reaches out and pulls the kid back in for a hug, holding him tight despite the pain. Dustin starts trying to push off, so Steve flips him around under his armpit in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles roughly into the top of Dustin’s hat as he starts to screech again. He huffs, straightening out his hat, still sporting that iconic toothless smile.

“Now,” Steve says, “all I have to do is ask your mom.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dustin replies, turning around to lead Steve towards the house. He sees the curtains pulled roughly shut and the silhouette of the woman heading toward the front door. “She already knows all about you. I told her what happened. Well, the government version.”

“You told your mom about me?” Steve asks in awe.

“Duh, why wouldn’t I? Sure, you got your ass handed to you, but it was totally awesome!”

“Right,” Steve scoffs. He’ll let that one slide for now. “You’re sure she won’t mind?”

“Mom’s going to love you. She’s been asking about you all week.”

If she’s anything like her son, then hopefully Steve’s got nothing to worry about. And maybe if he can watch one kid, he can talk to the rest of their parents– look after the whole Party of gremlins. He can host after school hangouts and movie nights, sleepovers in the living room and pool parties in the summer. There’s the beginnings a plan forming in his head, which parents and kids he needs to talk to next.

When he’s met with Mrs. Henderson’s warm smile, he thinks maybe the rest of this year will be alright.

~~~

2. Mayfield (pt 1) || ao3

#steve harrington and the party #steve harrington fic #steve and dustin #steve harrington #dustin henderson #steve and the party #good babysitter steve harrington #babysitter steve harrington #the babysitter chronicles #stranger things fic #post season 2 #queeniewritesstories

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