#But on nights when his father doesn't manage to get home

[adore-laur]

DADRRY BLURB

what the hell, sure. welcome back dadrry!

——

It's the usual time of night when Harry prepares his mind and body for a healthy eight hours of undisturbed sleep. And by undisturbed, that doesn't include being woken up by either of his daughters. It's not so much an interruption as it is a natural part of being a father. These days, he's a master at curing midnight wakings from nightmares, sugar rushes, sicknesses, and those fussy sleep regression phases.

Secretly, he loves the challenge and reward of it all. There's nothing better than calming a baby's cry or tiring out a toddler's hyperactive brain. Even when he does it while half-asleep, the feeling of being needed by his children is unparalleled.

After putting the kids to bed, Harry has a set of rules for himself: take a scorching hot shower, drink a mug of chamomile tea, and put away his phone and laptop. It creates an inner warmth that relaxes him from top to bottom. After expeditious kitchen shifts followed by hands-on parenting, the last thing he wants is eyestrain and an aching pulse at his temples.

He'll often read a mystery or historical fiction novel to guide his thoughts away from work. It's a simple pleasure to get lost in the pages, lit only by the bedside lamp as his eyelids grow heavy. He'll bookmark whatever page is the culprit of his sleepiness and save it for tomorrow. No printed words are worth a crick in his neck. Afterward, you'll eventually join him, and he'll spend his last minutes of consciousness with his skin pressed against you, breathing in your familiar scent.

Tonight's routine goes a little differently, courteous of you. Harry manages to take a shower, adding a dose of meditation toward the end, and is blowdrying his hair when you peek your head past the bedroom doorway. Your gaze searches for him, roving over the empty bed and open closet until it lands on him standing in the connected bathroom. He shuts the dryer off, sensing you have something of importance to tell him. You're dressed in pajamas already, the matching silk two-piece hugging your curves and providing him with glimpses of skin he was deprived of all day. Lord knows the thin material draped over your bare breasts will be the cause of greedy, wandering hands under the covers later. He nearly groans just thinking about it.

Blinking himself out of that lovely fantasy, Harry lifts his eyes back up to your face. "Hi, baby," he says, setting the dryer down and fluffing his unruly hair in the mirror. There is something so intimate about seeing his and your reflection right before bedtime, in the low light after a long day. The domestic simpleness of living together, sharing a space, and coming home to each other is a delight he always revels in.

"Hey," you say, smiling and leaning against the doorjamb. "I'll wait until you're done."

Still staring at you in the mirror, Harry grips the sink's edge and hangs his head dramatically. "Why must you torture me with those pajamas?"

You roll your eyes. "Oh, please. You sleep nearly naked every night."

He finds you in the mirror again, his eyes heavy with lust. "And does it torture you?"

"I'll never tell," you reply, although a pretty blush stains your cheeks—a clear giveaway.

He smirks and says, "Give me a second. I'll be right there." He turns his attention back to his hair, but not before catching a brief flash of you practically skipping to the bed. With a warm feeling caressing his heart, he digs through the vanity drawer and finishes his routine, which consists of a spritz of sea salt spray in his curls, two swipes of Old Spice deodorant on his armpits, and a layer of maple-flavored lip balm that you'll probably—most definitely—kiss off within the next hour.

Flicking the light off, Harry makes his way to where you're sitting on the bed with a taped cardboard box in front of your tucked knees. It's only the size of half a shoebox. He sits and rests his back against the upholstered headboard, waiting for you to speak.

"Did you order a package from somewhere?" you ask, pushing the box toward him.

Harry frowns, his eyes narrowing as he tries to recall purchasing anything online recently. "I don't believe so. Why, did you?"

"No. It was on the front porch." You shrug, also confused by the mysterious box. "Must have just gotten delivered."

"Huh," he says. There's no return address, just a To: Harry Styles, and it leaves him stumped. Is it from a neighbor? A secret admirer? A stalker who is currently watching him through the window and waiting for him to open it?

New fear unlocked: a box with unknown origins.

Tearing his suspicious eyes away from the window—where thankfully no one lurks—he picks the box up and shakes it cautiously. Something inside shuffles, sounding like a solid object cushioned by something softer. Good grief, did he order something nonsensical while somnolent?

"I'm scared," Harry says bluntly.

You take the box and flip it all around like there could be a message hidden somewhere. Grinning, you say, "This is exciting. I love surprises."

"Then you should open it."

"Let's open it together," you suggest, crawling into his lap. With your back against his chest, Harry rubs his tired eyes and silently agrees. Sleep will only come harder if that unopened box sits menacingly throughout the night.

You seem unfazed by this random occurrence, but that's just how you are. The woman he married embraces the unpredictability of life and coaxes the curious nature he thought he grew out of as an adult. Now, staring at the harmless box, Harry follows your lead and digs his fingers into the topmost slit covered with flimsy tape. The cardboard gives way, and he opens the flaps slowly as if a wild animal might leap out.

He notices you aren't looking at the box's contents. Your eyes are trained on him, the eager expression you previously wore now softened.

"What's in there?" you ask, your thumb stroking the intrinsic lines and curves of his palm.

Harry looks from you to the box several times, not understanding the shift in mood. You nod, encouraging him to reveal the secret. He discovers a white fleece blanket, small enough in size for his brain to fire a synapse that he can't quite comprehend just yet.

"A blanket," he says with utter confusion. "Who would send me this?" When you quirk your lips to the side, he takes a shot in the dark. "Is this from you?"

"I don't know. Let's see the blanket." Your voice has gotten hushed.

Harry carefully takes it out, the material soft and lush. Again, he realizes it's small, not large enough to cover a full-grown person. Not even a child.

At that moment, during those few seconds where Harry's brain connects the dots, is when he shakes the blanket out and reads the embroidered words Baby Styles #3. He freezes, staring at the cursive letters stitched delicately into... a baby blanket. As he tries to process everything, you set a pregnancy test in his loose grasp, the lightweight plastic heavy with significance. His body jolts with awareness as he frantically holds it under the lamp, his hands beginning to shake. The two lines are as clear as day. Not faint. Not just a possibility. Positive.

It isn't a complete surprise. There were serious, sit-down conversations about growing the family one more time. Questions of, Are we ready for another one? and When's the right time? were answered with mutual confidence. Then it was just a matter of trying, though not as stringently as the last two times. If it was meant to be, it would happen. There was no rush. There's beauty in taking things slow and not relying on hope alone. It requires patience, maybe even a little fate, and now Harry fully understands that good things come to those who wait.

"I'm pregnant," you whisper in his ear, not able to contain the joyous laugh that punctuates your statement.

Harry falls back on the bed and stares at the ceiling with blurred vision. "This is real, right? You're not pranking me?"

You straddle his bare torso, beaming at him like an angel. "I tricked you with the box. But this—" you grab the test and vulnerably hold it in your palms—"is real. We have an appointment in two weeks."

Harry sits up quickly, anchors himself to your waist, and pulls you back down on the mattress with him. You giggle, limbs tangled and breathless with excitement. "Fuck," he says, kissing every inch of your neck. "I've been dreaming of this." He brushes your hair back with gentle fingers. "Another baby."

"Could be twins or triplets. You never know."

"Wouldn't that be something," he muses, not even mildly frightened of that inconceivable thought.

Happy tears drip from your lashes. "I'm sure it won't feel real until, well, you know..."

Yeah, he knows. He had the privilege of watching you bloom twice. Each time was slightly different, with varying symptoms and measurements. What remained the same was your radiant beauty that somehow became even more pronounced as the pregnancies progressed. It was remarkable to witness. He couldn't believe you were able to create life so gracefully.

You take Harry's hand and place it on your lower stomach. There's no physical proof since it's far too early, yet he knows it will sneak up on him, and before long, he'll be cradling a crying baby in his arms. For the third time.

"Can we keep this a secret?" Harry asks quietly. "At least until you have a cute bump that can't be ignored anymore."

"Can you keep it a secret?" you tease. The last two pregnancies were revealed to family and friends, both times spoiled by him. Apparently, he was making it obvious by the way he touched you and the "hints" he wasn't aware he was dropping. The first time, during a summer get-together with your side of the family, he honestly doesn't remember holding your cousin's baby girl and cheekily saying "I'm preparing." The backyard went eerily silent until you shouted the news to save his ass from fumbling through some half-baked explanation. The second time, during Christmas dinner, he really doesn't remember his hand drifting so evidently to your bump that you hid under a loose sweater. He may have been tipsy, so when his mother pulled him into the hallway and gave him a knowing look, he couldn't help but nod bashfully to confirm her motherly intuition.

"I'll be good, I promise," Harry says, making a show of locking lips and throwing away the key.

You cup his cheeks and attach your mouth to his. He melts into your sweet, tender kiss that he can't live without. "It doesn't matter to me. But I definitely want to get past the first trimester in case..." Your voice trails off, and Harry nods to show he understands the unspoken prospect.

"I guess I'm just already feeling protective," he murmurs, his hand traveling down your thigh. "Want you and this secret all to myself."

"You're a greedy, greedy man," you say, shifting your hips.

He groans. "It's these damn pajamas."

"Oh, you have nine months of torture ahead. You know why?"

"Why, sweetheart?"

You sigh theatrically. "Because there will come a time when these pajamas won't fit anymore. And poor me will be in the third trimester in the late summer, which means it'll be too hot to wear anything to bed."

Harry's jaw hangs open, filthy fantasies flashing through his mind at warp speed. "Yeah? Well fuck, I better take advantage of the precious time I have left with them." He snaps the waistband of your shorts.

You laugh loudly, the sound filling the room like it was always meant to, and Harry takes it as an invitation to dive under the silk.

——

[sareen-momos-stuff]

BatSup Fic Idea (in DCEU)

Batman sacrifices himself to destroy the anti-life equation. Superman manages to defeat Darkseid. But it's too late by then. Earth is already dying. Clark has lost everyone, Ma, Lois, his team and lastly Bruce.

So with the help of Constantine, a grief stricken Clark is send to 15 years in the past to change the course of time. (Paradox? Never heard of him)

Clark wakes up in his twenty year old body and decides to role into Gotham University instead of travelling across the world to find his heritage, to be close to Batman. Batman has been operating in Gotham for merely five years now.

The first night he sees Batman and a tiny child in Robin costume jumping from one roof to another to chase after criminals, Clark breaks down crying in his dingy shoebox apartment in Gotham.

Through heaving breath it dawned onto Clark that Bruce is alive and so is Dick. He is so close and yet so far. In the past timeline Clark had been in love with the man for years but he never could master the courage to confess. But when he did it was too late.

Clark had confessed when Bruce had been in the middle of absorbing the anti-life equation. He did it to stop him from sacrificing himself . To make him chose to live for Clark at least. Bruce had lost everyone in the battle, his sons, his father figure. He had nothing to live for. But Clark had hoped that Bruce would choose to live for him.

But it didn't happen. He had died to give Clark a chance to win against Darkseid. Everyone always dies because of Clark. Strongest superhero but he can't save anyone.

Not this time. This time Clark will save everyone. He'll be a better. He'll help Bruce to create the strongest superhero team to defeat Darkseid. He'll protect him from all harm.

It's okay if Bruce doesn't reciprocate his feelings. His feelings doesn't matter.

.

Bruce would like to know why the sad looking puppy of a college kid loitering around Gotham and helping Batman.

He helped Batman when he crashed into his apartment after inhaling Scarecrow's toxin gas and then he gave Robin a piece of pie when he came to get Batman.

The same young man had carried Dick to the Wayne Manor in a snowfall when teen had run away from home after a fight. He wasn't even properly dressed for Gotham winter!! He gave his only coat to Dick to keep him warm!!

Noone in Gotham is that kind! Either he is an alien or he has some ulterior motive!

Bruce is determined to find out what his motive is.

"Maybe he's just a good young man, Master Bruce."

"And a good cook!"

He's also very adorable in his sad puppy demeanor. But that doesn't matter! Bruce will know what he wants no matter what.

Is it necessary to turn into his sugar daddy for that? No. But he has the money and the kid could use a few more nice clothes. And then when he is vulnerable Bruce can eat him -*cough- I mean get his secret.

[sweet-bazzle-bean]

Ed listing "Orgasms" as one of the pros of living is of course hilarious, but him knee-jerk answering "Warmth" is going to haunt me to my grave.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I know this page now is filled with Mafia König, and Monster König, and Slasher König, but it was revealed to me in a dream- Executioner König. Apparently, (though I don't have a source) given that the profession often met with isolation, which obviously made it hard to find a bride. Some executioners if they weren't married already, could pardon a woman prisoner if she agreed to marry him. Now enter, all in white, Reader that has commited an unspecified crime. It's still enough to be on death row for it. But Konig, seeing her, just can't let such a pretty thing die. He's lonely, and not getting any younger....

Cut to Reader confused later in life how her life from stealing or conning went to cooking potatoes and warming his bed at night while he's busy ripping someone's intestines out.

(plus fucking Reader in a pillory as a treat)

You prayed every night. They gave you a week before the execution - threw you in a cold basement, dampened your feet in water, and waited until you begged for the sentence to come faster. They couldn't - the royal executioner was out on the road from another city, and they couldn't have a royal maid to be killed by some commoner. You thought you'd have time to let them know how you didn't do what you did - how you were innocent all along if only crime for protecting yourself. No one listened, of course. The royal executioner has cold hands, and you can almost feel them preparing for the torture. This is what he is going to do, you think - put you in a pillory, slowly rip you from inside out. A fitting punishment is to dump your common blood so everyone can see just how much of a filth you are. Konig knows he has a right to you - a royal maid, probably framed. Maybe you are guilty- but he looked at your wide eyes and tear-stained face, and he didn't really care. You have soft legs and nice hips, a body that even prisoner's rags couldn't hide. You'd give him nice, fat babies - about a litter of them, poor bastard living with their father's profession. Daughters never get married, and sons get themselves wives in a similar fashion. Konig draps a hand over your thighs, under the rags - you're filthy, but he never minded. Can clean you up after, make you a wife. Honest woman, getting clean with his cock lodged deep in your cunt. He always liked girls from the royal district - clean, fresh, looking small like dolls on their fast legs. Like deers in the forest, except that he can now get himself one. Like catching a forest nymph. You don't even whimper as he drags a hand over your pussy, fingering you slowly - learned his way with brothel girls, always too nervous to actually do something, but also too horny not to. No one would be with an executioner willingly, so he would fuck you until heaven and the crown would forgive you and then would put a nice ring on your finger. Drag you to his house and made you his made - and his princess, too. Would buy you a dozen little goose feather pillows and a soft blanket from a foreign merchant so your body would forget the cold and the depth of the dungeon. He knows you'd be a good housewife because you managed to work in a castle - he doesn't care if it was the lower quarters if you only worked with other servants. He calls you a princess in bed and gets expensive cuts of lamb to cook. You burn your first one, roasting it too much, not knowing how to deal with meat if it's not made from scraps - and he ate it anyway, nuzzling his face into your breasts later as if asking for seconds. Puts a baby in you two months after the wedding. Haggles with merchants for soothing herbs and tortures 5 people per day for a bigger cut of what was in their pockets. Gets you a really nice bracelet out of some poor merchanting bastard, and you wore it like a shackle, your hands still trembling lightly when embracing him. The smell of your hair makes him forget about blood, and he clings to your body like a dog whenever he is home. Konig couldn't be happier.

[wttcsms]

did i ever tell you guys about my delinquent!iwa with a heart of gold x rich girl & oikawa's younger sister!reader?? where tooru and reader are the sheltered children of one of the wealthiest families in the prefecture meanwhile iwaizumi, who means well, can't help but run with "the wrong crowd" — they're not really all that bad. they're just boys. they're his childhood friends, of course he's sticking by them.

anyway, tooru, in typical tooru fashion, decides he wants to join their little group. your older brother has always been charming, so it's no surprise that he manages to endear himself to their little group. now your older brother is running around with the same delinquents your father criticizes at the dinner table. tooru never lets you join them, even if you beg and threaten to snitch (which you'd never do, and maybe that's why he doesn't take your threat seriously)

after a particularly nasty fight and everyone in the group has to scatter to flee from the cops, where does a bruised and battered iwa end up? hopping the gate to enter your parent's property, throwing rocks at your bedroom window. he thinks it's oikawa, but he knows he's made a mistake whenever you step out onto the balcony outside your bedroom. before he can run off, the fight he just got done with has finally taken its toll on his body and he finds himself knocking out onto the grass.

you drag him in. your parents are gone at one of their charity galas and it'll be a late night. you're home alone. you're home alone in your family's mansion, and it took all of your strength to drag this unconscious delinquent inside, and the marble floors are surely gonna get dirty, and—

—you patch him up.

you patch him up, and when he wakes up half an hour later, he's got hello kitty band-aids on and you're not letting him leave 'til he eats the ramen you made him. you're stubborn, just like your annoying older brother, so iwa begrudgingly eats the meal you took obvious care in making for him.

and somehow, he keeps finding himself coming back to you. sometimes under the guise of needing to see tooru, sometimes because you take a stern tone of voice different from your usual gentle cadence when you chastise him for getting roughed up & how if he refuses to take care of himself, at least let you apply some ointment to his cuts.

iwa knows he's in too deep, though, whenever he sees you taking care of a kitty one night.

"is that yours?" he asks, never having seen you with any pets. the kitten is cute, sure, but looks a little rough. skinnier than baby cats should be, that's for damn certain. looks almost like the strays 'round his neighborhood.

"nope. i saw her wandering around, looking all lost and lonely. she stops by occasionally, along with others."

"others?"

you nod, stroking the kitten's fur, smiling serenely as you watch her lap at the saucer of milk you provided. "there's a couple of dogs i pass by on my way to school." that explains why he once saw dog treats spill out of your school blazer pocket.

"you have a thing for taking in strays." he's joking, but his smile fades when you sadly answer him,

"yeah. but they never stay."

iwaizumi knows that in the eyes of your neighbors and the people in your social circle, he's your stray.

is he going to stay?

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to. 

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it. 

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?” 

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.” 

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs. 

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back. 

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-” 

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.” 

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne. 

“Okay? I don't get it.” 

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer. 

“Happy Uncle's Day!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday. 

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-” 

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.” 

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-” 

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.” 

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?” 

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.” 

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large. 

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.” 

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?” 

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.” 

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s. 

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?” 

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in. 

“Can't argue with that,” he says. 

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning. 

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.” 

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders. 

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground. 

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”  

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction. 

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?” 

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh. 

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day. 

[artsninspo]

"FLAGS? CRIMSON 🚩" - RIO X READER

Authors Note: Monday Morning 🍵 , this one is based around the asks, the girls wanted filthy rio, I tried 😘

Summary: You have your concerns and reservations. Rio doesn't give a damn ... usually but then you stand on business, staying away for two weeks. Rio doesn't like that and lets his presence be known.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Black Reader

Warnings: Spicy🌶️🌶️🌶️, theres possessiveness, stalking?, hair grabbing, mild-spanking & dub-con elements.

Word-Count: 2.5K

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

You and Rio have been in a standoff for the past three weeks. It started with him snatching your phone out of your hand as you attempted to take a picture of the two of you. He’d wined and dined you after a busy work week. He had his place turned into a restaurant to hold the intimate date. How often does a girl get Michelin grade food with a side of five star dick? Rio was something new, he chased you mercilessly but there was never that ‘let me show you off’ phase that you’re typically used to. There were no meetings or greetings from friends or family.  You were excited for a relationship that was private but you didn’t sign up to be a secret. You already made it clear to him that you wanted to know if he was sleeping with other people. You’d asked him countless times if he was seeing someone else, secretly married, everything. Each time Rio’s been dismissive, more present and somehow better in bed to prove his point. It was only you. Still your suspicions beat out every single affirmation of his. As good as it’s been physically, the flags are crimson.

Swallowing hard you make your way to the country club for tonight’s benefit. Your phone rings again. Rio’s name flashes and you respond with another customer service-esque response, that delays your meeting citing being busy and exhausted as the reason. At first Rio was giving you time to cool off but now he’s relentless. If you were the only one perhaps his hand just isn't cutting it anymore. Rubbing shoulders isn’t typically your favourite thing to do but socialising is better than sitting at home and forcing yourself not to think of him. you see a few childhood friends among the opportunists and the schmoozes that frequent this kind of social climber opportunity. You dance and drink and enjoy the night out with your peers who are going off the rails. They encourage you to mingle with the eligible men but you know better. Thankfully your father’s wealth has purchased your freedom. There’s no need to pretend to be interested in them or the woman ‘worth’ settling for, to gain the opportunity for a more ‘financially free’ life.

It’s after two in the morning when you’re finally headed home. You tip your cabby and head in the lobby. It's been three weeks since you’ve been taken care of properly and you feel it every time you have to sit in the house alone. You make a mental note to buy a vibrator to take the edge off until you can find Rio’s replacement. The ding of the elevator gets your attention and you head to your apartment unlocking the door. The cold floor feels perfect against your sore feet. You let out a sigh of relief picking up your heels as you lock up behind you. You’re nearly down the hall to your bedroom when you freeze in place. Rio’s seated dressed in all black on your sofa. He stands furious and you take a step back so startled your heart is racing. Maybe it’s the liquor. You squeeze your eyes shut but when you open them he’s more clear.

“How was the party?” He asks.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“My girl has been sick for three weeks dodging me, you’ve been moody and shit so I’m wondering if you're down bad. I come here to be supportive and you don’t answer the door. I worry and get the spare key from management. I come in and you’re nowhere to be found. Now I just know you’ll be back soon but then I’m sitting here waiting and what do I see?” Rio asks before pulling up your social media, all the reposted stories from the girls night are there. You feel caught. His energy is menacing.

“And you didn’t leave and think maybe I don’t want to see you anymore?” You snap and Rio moves quickly grabbing a handful of your hair at the back of your head to pull you in. Your heart races and you feel your body begin to betray your brain, relishing the contact.

“You’re still lying to me?” He challenges. You look up at him in defiance and he smiles loosening his grip on your hair. “I should really leave you high and dry,” he threatens.

“Then let go of me” you respond, challenging him and his grip on your hair releases but he doesn’t step back. You can feel his breath on your face as you look up at him. You stare back at his angry eyes. He’s the only man who’s never cowered at your defiance.

“You think you can quit me just like that?” He asks settling into his usual disposition. Calm, challenging, maddening.

“It'll be pretty easy actually, no pictures, no mutuals, Rio who?” You taunt raising a brow before fearlessly turning your back to him. It strikes a nerve. Sighing to maintain his cool he wonders why he likes strong willed women while admiring  your frame in your selected outfit for the occasion. If it were anyone else he’d be out the door, he wouldn’t put up with it but you have him by the balls and have no idea. He hears the shower running and makes himself comfortable in your bedroom.

“You’re still here?” You respond sarkily fresh out of the shower and better equipped to handle the uninvited guest currently occupying the lounge in your bedroom. Rio’s eyes make note of your tone and that you have nothing under your robe, using it as a more secure towel.

“Mama, I know you’ve got liquor in you but tread lightly. Ya hear?” He warns still in his seat. All you want to do is be his baby. To take care of him, for him to take care of you. To have multiple orgasms to  pass out in his arms throughly fucked and a little sore. To be his road dog on his runs listening to music and eating snacks. To surprise him with blowjobs when he’s stressed from his work and watch as he loses control.

“I’m not drunk” you respond with folded arms.

“C’mere” Rio sighs, relaxing in the lounge chair. Usually it would work but he’s too comfortable. Instead you ignore his request heading into the bathroom to finish up your nighttime routine. You’re looking in the mirror and finishing up your skincare routine with hand lotion when he appears behind you. His expression is serious and you hear metal clanking. Looking down you see he’s unfastened his belt. Your eyes hold his and you watch as his hands slide up your thighs lifting your robe. His lips don’t offer praise or affection; a rarity. Anticipation builds as his hold tightens around your hips. Bringing them back against his growing manhood. He doesn’t need to promise a lesson. His eyes tell you it’s going to be sweet punishment. His hand swipes against your folds to find you’re already ready. He applies pressure before sliding a finger into you. Watching your expression change in the mirror.

“You’re lucky no one else has been in what’s mine” he comments possessively.

“You’re lucky” you contest moaning as he finds his rhythm with his fingers.

“Keep talking shit” he warns but it feels too good to talk back. “What’s that?” He asks finding your spot. Edging you closer and closer to your release.

“Mmmmm” you moan as he changes pace.

“That’s what I thought” he says onto your ear before giving your neck a kiss. You can feel him fully hard pressing into you from behind as he makes you come with his hand. You’re throbbing for more as you pant trying to recover. You want to kiss him but his eyes tell you all is not forgiven yet. He leaves a stinging slap on your ass. Punishment. Your brain chemistry alters making you wetter. It’s sick and twisted what Rio’s capable of bringing out of you. The quickness of the orgasm affirms you haven't stepped out on him, it pisses him off that you've been deliberately depriving him of sex. “When I call, answer the phone, don't send me any more automatic texts, or stupid distant responses.” He says laying down the law. “Dont ignore me” he adds.

“If you want me to behave differently treat me better” you manage standing upright and looking at him in the mirror again. He should walk out now. He should be done with you but he isn’t. You watch his jaw clench. He sees what needs to be done in spite of it being early morning, your defiance energises him. When he smiles your heart catches and it’s the moment he slides in full hilt. Gasping, your eyes close as he fills you completely, fitting snug. The feel of your walls around him nearly makes him lose control but he has a point to prove. When you wake up he wants you to see and feel him all over you. Pulling back before going back in repeatedly you feel your breaths grow shallow. The feeling is second to none.  It’s why Rio’s so different. Your chemistry is always enough foreplay. He leaves you satiated every time. He’s no slouch and your moans affirm the truth. Instead of putting on a show most of the time you’re fighting to hold them back. But Rio knows how much you enjoy when he’s inside you. The slickness of your walls, the responsiveness of your body, how soft and malleable you become. Gripping the counter you brace for his impact as he fucks you into it. His hand protectively palms your stomach to keep you from falling forward into the faucet. His pace and strength is punishing in the best way possible. You come hard again.You want a break but when he pulls out he lowers. Gripping your thighs bringing you closer to claim you with his mouth. He hoists you onto the counter to better his leverage before sucking and driving you crazy.

“Leave me for who” he asks, somehow still dominating you while in a submissive position. He continues like his appetite for you is insatiable and it must be because in  moments you find yourself beyond the point of comprehension. You moan yeses and other sounds of praise. He’s so good you can barely enjoy the sight of him pleasing you. Your head is back for most of it. You come even harder the third time absolutely spent. Rio gets up slower this time he knows you’re worn thin. He knows he has you in the palm of his hands. You look at his manhood standing at attention. His pants aren’t fully off, neither are his boxers. That’s how much he needed you. Your robe is still on too, you albeit not properly. There wasn’t even time to undress. Looking at him you go to return the favour but Rio stops you.

“No, I want to be in my pussy” he tells you, turning you around again.

“Let’s go to bed” you offer.

“Shut up be a boss and take it standing up” he continues goading you. Your legs are tired from standing all night and worn in from your orgasms.

“Rio please?” You whine and he chuckles.

“Now you want to be nice?” he asks.

“Baby please” you add.

“Now I’m baby?” he smiles pecking your cheek, having omitted his usual intimacy.

“Mhm” you nod.

“Words” he challenges.

“Rio!” You snap and he silences you again with re-entry. His hand over your mouth stifles a curse before he lets you taste your arousal on his fingers. His strokes are lighter than before and his rhythm is lethal. He’s a man that listens, he hits just where you need, and you feel the last bit of resistance and tension leave your body like a spool of thread being spun out. Your body is pliable and responsive. You lose your restraint, your moans affirming his talent and everything you feel. Rio’s moans follow, so do curses. Your body buzzes with satisfaction as you feel his pace hitch and the tension of a coming release. You prepare for the loss of contact but it doesn’t come. He thrusts deeper coming inside of you. You’re surprised for a millisecond before the feeling makes you relax. Your body settles completely. You feel goosebumps pepper your flesh as he hums emptying all of his pent up lust into you. You dare to look up into the mirror. His eyes are watching you. The anger is out of his face, his expression is blank and distant. You don’t recognize it as you feel his arousal dripping down your leg. His palm is against your stomach again. You hold it tighter and he comes to. You realise he’s sated and the unfamiliar look is a mix of exhaustion and euphoria. You want to kiss him so bad, he steps back pulling out and robbing you of the contact. His manhood bounces as it falls. You feel sore instantly. It takes him some time to catch his breath. Catching yours, you don’t know how to feel. If he’s still upset or if you’re back on solid ground. Rio answers the question when he turns on the water in your shower and holds out a hand inviting you in. You both get naked and he kisses you hard under the water before washing you up with care. He’s unpredictable and you are relieved he hasn't walked out to make you eat your words. After washing you up he gets dressed, choosing from the clothes he’s left for times like these, and to mark his territory.

“It’s quiet” he comments as you get into your night dress. A smirk plays on his lips. You roll your eyes climbing into the bed incapable of further defiance and too exhausted for a witty retort. Rio follows suit, pulling you in and spooning you. You know sleep won’t be far.

“Nite” he whispers.

“Nite” you respond.

When you awake you’re happy until you see Rio getting dressed. Rolling over you check the time to see it's 8am. Not enough time has passed for a full rest. You don’t have the energy to argue with him. Putting on a T-shirt Rio snickers pleased with the fruit of his labour. Now dressed in a sweatsuit he walks over to your side of the bed leaning in for a kiss. You oblige and he steals a few extra pecks before standing to look at you.

“Get some rest, I have a meeting. I’ll be back with some breakfast around 11:30, then I want you on the road with me” Rio says casually.

“Rio-“ you start, he knows you’re about to protest by your tone.

“I don’t want to hear about that shit anymore. You want to be public, now everyone will know I’m fucking you when you start to show in a few months. You won’t be able to get rid of me for years.” He says shocking you. You sit up scared straight and he smiles.

“Later … mama” he says walking out with a wink.

———-

Authors Note: Rio’s hell right? But we love our bad boy 😉 This one’s for the anons who wanted it nasty. I did my best to keep it Rio. Let me know if I got the vibe you were looking for. Like, comment, reblog.

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

[linksqueerawakening]

Miscellaneous LU Headcanons

Four doesn't cast a shadow. when questioned, they flatly state "it died" and refuse to elaborate. if pushed on the matter, they become more and more irritated, while still refusing to elaborate

Time always knows what time it is. you could wake him up in the middle of the night and before he's even fully opened his eyes he could tell you the time without having to even think about it

Hyrule has the most magic, but Legend knows the most magical theory, followed closely by Time

Warriors, Legend, and Four are the only members of the chain who are actually legit monarchists. like the others are pretty much neutral on the concept (tho Wild doesn't like how flora was treated with all the expectations and lack of freedom, but that's another matter entirely than being of the opinion that monarchy is inherently bad), they're fine with monarchy. they just don't have strong opinions one way or another, so long as the current holder of power isn't corrupt. meanwhile Four Legend and Warriors would probably fight you if you insinuated that hyrule's monarchy should be abolished

Legend and Fable are twins but it's a secret. and also due to Fable getting kidnapped and transformed in various worlds in some of their adventures, they're no longer the same age; Legend is 19, she's 16 or 17. they still look very similar so they used the excuse that they're cousins on their father's side

Legend used to want to be a knight very very badly when he grew up, because his uncle who raised him was a knight. the knights who were controlled and attacked him during Link to the Past were pretty much all trusted adults that he knew and admired. he stopped wanting to be a knight after that

Wild may be the best cook when they have good ingredients, but when the chain is down to the wire and they need to make every little bit count? Hyrules horrible concoctions are actually the best option. he can't make it taste good but he can make it keep you alive when there are no other options

Wind is the best at navigating without a map or compass due to his experiences on ships - he would rather have the tools, but he's pretty damn good at managing without

Four has a habit of referring to themselves with "we/us" pronouns ever since they were split and then reformed with the four sword. the other heroes don't know why, but sort of shrugged and started using "they/them" pronouns bc it seemed polite. Four is mostly unaware that they do this - green picked up on it but hasn't pointed it out to the rest of four bc he knows it'll make them stress, and it clearly hasn't caused any issues

Twilight is disarmingly charismatic but only when he's not trying. if he's talking to someone casually or even somewhat irritably, they tend to be completely taken by him, but if he's actively trying to be smooth it just comes across as awkward

Sky is the most mild mannered person you've ever met until you cross certain lines, at which point it's like a switch flips and he's so pissed that even the other heroes hesitate to deal with him

Discounting the hundred years in which Wild was unconscious, Warriors had the longest single adventure, with the war of eras lasting about 7 years. Legend's six adventures altogether may have lasted longer, but they were split up into multiple parts, not one long quest

Wild takes pictures of pretty much everything they can to show Flora whenever they're back home, because they know how much she wants to learn about the ancient past, like their species, their societies, and their magic

[yesimwriting]

thinking about bestfriend!coryo who you trust more than anyone else, so when he starts getting touchier, you think nothing of it. a lot of friends are like that and he starts small. holding your hand, thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. keeping an assuring hand on the small of your back as you walk through crowded halls or during formal events. you somehow miss the way that he always shows up just as some guy is getting too close to you, never noticing the glare directed at the intruders as his fingers find yours.

then he's coming over to study and the two of you lose track of time. so you can't send him home, not with how harsh winter nights in the capitol can be.

so you invite him to stay over. you're willing to wake up the maid to set up a guest room, but it's so late and she's been asleep for hours. and your father's out of town as usual, away on business in the districts, and your mother just recently left to join him. so there's no one there to hold the two of you to social propriety.

so why not let him stay in your room? just this once. it's not like he's some random boy, he's your coryo. it's also cold, your room being on the far end of your family's estate where the central heating can't ever manage to work consistently, so it's practical. you can't find anything wrong in the way his side presses into yours beneath plush sheets.

before you know it, he's finding excuses to come over and staying so late that it's just easier for him to stay over at least once a week.

and the longer this goes on, the easier it is to not read into more and more. a hand just above your knee while you're both sitting in the library, his foot absentmindedly pushing against yours while you're both reading, the rare brush of his lips against the back of your palm or your shoulder when you're are alone. how can any of that be weird or too much when the two of you are used to falling asleep while holding onto each other?

you get so used to it that it's instinct to welcome anything involving him. if coryo's placing an arm around your shoulder, you relax into his side. if his fingers are trailing patterns against your arm, you don't move. if he's pulling you closer while half asleep, you smooth circles against his back until his breathing evens. he's your best friend, it's the least you can do and it's not like the displays of affection bother you.

it becomes so habitual to just go along with it because it's coryo, who'd never do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, that you don't even react when he finds you at some capitol party hosted by your parents, stone faced as he grabs your arm. you're bubbly, ready to introduce him to the son of one of your father's co-workers that he can barley bring himself to look at.

he mumbles the faintest greeting before pulling you away. that's what you react to, being dragged harshly through a room full of people. coryo's so in his head that all he gets from your reaction is that you're pushing him away for the first time ever after spending most of the night talking to some guy that's everything he's insecure about.

he doesn't let go of you until you're in a hall closet. before you can ask what's gotten into him, he's closing the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours to prove that he can. that you'll let him.

you've spent so long letting coryo set the pace for everything that you kiss him back before you can think. eventually your mind catches up and you're pulling back enough to look him in the eye. all it takes is the slightest nod of his head and you're leaning back in because he's your coryo and he's always known where to go with things.

----

----

more bestfriend! coryo 

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Can you write something with young!Maverick?

Something like where they meet and she has heard about his reputation (he's the type to only stay a few nights and then move on to the next girl). So, when one night, he approaches her all smiley and flirty (and maybe a little shy and cute) she thinks that's exactly what he wants from her - to take her home for a night of sex just to move on to other people the next day. And, even though she has developed feelings for him, she accepts it, albeit with no expectation that she will become anything other than just another one he spent a night with or that it was anything other than just sex and fun. So, imagine her surprise when he starts acting the exact opposite towards her from what she expected - always wanting to be with her everywhere, skipping nightlife to be with her, being super clingy and loving, etc, etc. She doesn't believe he has feelings for her but she just can't understand his behavior. She starts to feel overwhelmed because her feelings for him only get worse and she fears the day when he will stop giving her that kind of attention (maybe she thinks this is just a harmless game for him, where she is the shiny new toy he is getting to know until she no longer interests him that much). She confronts him, confesses her feelings, gets angry and tells him to stay away. He desperately tries to tell her about his feelings for her, that he has always been in love with her and has tried to get closer to her through everything he has done because he didn't know what else to do. She doesn't believe him and it's basically him desperately trying to prove his love for her and all that cute stuff with a really happy ending 💖❣️

I also imagined a lot of cinematic chase scenes, inspired by that sand chase in There Are Rules and the f14 airport scene in Altitude 🤣🤣 so there's that. Lots of desperate, all-consuming love, perhaps ending with a love making scene that includes it all? Making desperate, passionate and hungry love. Someone so in love that they don't even know what to do, whether to cry or laugh.

You could also include a classic “misunderstanding scene” that unearths deep-rooted jealousy, but is it not what it seems? Lol it's all very cliché but honestly, it's the best shit in the world when it's written by someone who knows what they're doing, I live for desperate love.

I know this is extra long but hopefuly you'll be able to make it, I simply love your writing. Thank you. ❣️❣️

Oooh what a fun request! Thank you so much for sending this in!! I hope you don't mind, I kind of see this as a series rather than a one-shot, just because there's a lot to cover XD

Best of the Bad Boys

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff, allusions to sex

WC: ~2000

Masterlist

“That’s Maverick. Maverick Mitchell.”

You tear your gaze away from the animated man near the bar, throwing his arms around wildly as he describes some aerial trick he’s no doubt performed just that morning. You know exactly who he is, and yet, you turn to your friend jadedly and say, “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

She gives you a sardonic smile and skeptically scoffs. “Right. Like your father’s never mentioned his name.”

You shrug, glancing back at the pack of fighter jocks crowding the front of the establishment, each one admittedly a high-flier in his own right – pun intended. But Maverick… Maverick still manages to stand out. “He talks about all of them,” you reply nonchalantly, adding, “It’s not like I sit there and listen.”

“Why are you staring, then?”

You blink away, executing an elaborate eyeroll as you do, and fix your friend with a serious expression. “I can’t look?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“They’re nice to look at.”

Your friend nods in approval. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Doesn’t matter what his name is. What any of their names are. They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Perfect fling material, if you ask me,” your friend wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“No thanks,” you respond with a grimace. Every couple of months, a fresh assortment of aviators arrives at Top Gun, ready to take on the world. Already the finest pilots in their respective squadrons, they are sent to train at the most elite fighter tactics school on the Pacific seaboard. Their egos soar higher than their jets and their heads are always in the clouds.

You see the various groups come and go – the program is only several weeks long – but it’s always entertaining to watch them transform over the course of their training. It’s why you frequent the officer’s club rather than any of the other pubs in the area. That and the cheap drinks.

“Probably for the best,” your friend sighs dramatically. “He’s got a reputation.”

You purse your lips, watching Maverick smile at the waitress as she distributes another round of drinks among the officers. You know about that too. “Point him out to me,” you say, as though you have no idea whom the conversation is about.

Your friend leans into the table and discreetly aims her finger in Maverick’s direction. “The pretty one,” she mutters.

You let out a small chuckle. “They’re all pretty.”

Your friend shakes her head. “Not that pretty.”

“Not that pretty,” you agree musingly. You make an effort not to fall for the top guns of Top Gun and, until Maverick, you haven’t had much trouble upholding that rule. But everything about him, from the squint of his eyes when he laughs to the radiant warmth of his smile, not to mention his muscular arms, makes your heart skip a beat.

And then he pivots in his stool and his gaze, coincidentally, lands on you. You hastily look away, hoping he didn't noticed you staring, and start to fiddle with the pearls of your necklace. Several moments later, you slowly lift your eyes to check if he’s still looking.

Your heart nearly springs up into your throat when you see that he is. His mouth quirks upward slightly before he gives you the kind of smile that says he’s confident you’ve already noticed him.

You don’t smile back. You’re not about to engage in this dance. You do not associate with pilots. Your friend, on the other hand, is all for the naval aviator experience.

“He’s looking at you,” she whispers excitedly.

“Stop,” you warn her sternly. “I’m not interested.”

“Well, I am,” she urges. “Let’s go talk to them. I like the blond one.” But before you can refuse for a second time, your friend mutters, “Oh god, never mind. They’re coming to us!”

You look at her in alarm and then gulp as several of the men from the bar approach your table. You glance up at them with raised eyebrows.

“Hello,” Maverick says, looking directly at you. He presses his lips together into a vexingly endearing sideways smirk.

When you don’t respond, your friend chimes in excitedly. “Hello, hello! Welcome!” she exclaims, as though she’s receiving guests for a dinner party. “I’m Susan. Hello!”

You eye her moodily as she motions for the newcomers to join the two of you at the table.

“Mind if I sit here?” Maverick asks, pointing to the seat next to you.

You meet his gaze reluctantly. “Knock yourself out,” you respond coolly. You’re still annoyed that he caught you staring and you intend to make it clear that you are not just some girl he can charm into bed.

Maverick’s smirk widens somewhat, as though he’s not quite buying the act. He takes a seat beside you while one of his friends starts chatting up Susan who seems very much to be enjoying the attention.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Maverick says, leaning over slightly so that he could speak more discreetly. “Slider, here, wanted to get to know your friend. And I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch him crash and burn.”

You glance at Maverick dubiously. “That’s why you’re here?”

Maverick looks at you, then, and his gaze drifts languidly over the features of your face. “Would you prefer a different reason?”

Ignoring the frantic stutter of your heart as his eyes settle on yours, you shrug and look away, taking a sip of your drink. If only he knew who your father was, he wouldn’t be so bold. “I would prefer honesty.”

“Okay,” he says, resting his forearm on the table. “Honestly? I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”

You glance back at him hesitantly, not sure how to react. “Why?” you ask, trying to control the embarrassing tremor in your voice.

Maverick drops his head and lets out a small chuckle. “I just couldn’t,” he says. “That’s as honest as I’m going to get.”

You eye him tentatively, wishing he weren’t so dangerously good-looking. His sheepish smile almost makes you forget that he dates women for sport.

But the longer Maverick sits by your side, the less important his apparent promiscuity becomes. And when the two of you wind up in the back alley behind the officer’s club, wrapped in each other’s arms, you aren’t overly concerned about the future outlook of this particular liaison. Something about the way he kisses your neck convinces you that some moderate heartache might just be worth it.

Maverick weaves his fingers through yours and lifts his arm over your head, pressing the back of your hand into the brick wall behind you. He cradles the back of your head with his other hand as his mouth moves hungrily beneath your jawline. You let out an audible sigh and he pins you even more firmly against the wall, as though the sound you made has aroused him further.

And despite your every intention to just kiss for a while before taking your leave – because you don’t do flyboys – Maverick has managed to change your mind without speaking a word. You want to tell him that you’re flattered but no thank you, instead, you breathe, “come back,” when he finally pulls away.

Maverick smirks at you and tugs on the hand he’s still holding so that you’re drawn directly into his arms. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers.

You wrap your arms around his body, flattening yourself against him like you mean to be absorbed. And he folds around you like a cocoon, his arms enveloping you so securely, you barely have to hold yourself upright. He moves backward, pulling you after him toward his bike.

…

“We fucked,” you tell Susan the moment she puts her car in park.

She looks over at you with wide eyes and an even wider mouth as her jaw literally drops. “You and Maverick?” she shrieks.

You wince anxiously and look around, making sure nobody heard her exclamation. Then you roll up your window and nod for her to do the same. “Keep it together, Susan,” you hiss. “We’re behind enemy lines.”

Susan grimaces apologetically but the remorse is fleeting and, before you know it, she’s eagerly bouncing in her seat. “As if you’ve been blabbering on about a fender bender for half an hour and drop this bomb right before you have to go!” she whispers feverishly. You give her a grievous look which she expertly ignores. “Was he good?”

You sigh. “He was fine,” you say curtly, still uncomfortable sharing the details of last night’s encounter while sitting in the parking lot outside Hangar 1.

Susan appears disappointed. “Just fine?”

You glance around once more and then respond quietly, “He was very good.”

“I fucking knew it!” Susan yelps, tapping you on the knee excitedly. “Tell me more!”

“Later,” you say. “I have to meet my dad, remember?”

She nods. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Thanks, Suz,” you respond. “You’re a life saver.”

…

Your father, Top Gun’s very own Viper, paces back and forth as you sit in one of the chairs before his desk. He’s trying to keep his cool. “You sure you’re not hurt?” he asks again.

You nod tiredly. You’ve had a hell of a day.

Viper sighs moodily and shakes his head at you as though he’s not convinced.

It’s at exactly this moment that there’s a knock on his door and, as you begin to rise from your chair to leave your father to his duties, Maverick enters his office.

You freeze, meeting his gaze in alarm. Maverick, in turn, stops in his tracks, gaping at you from the doorway, forgetting even to salute his superior.

“Lieutenant,” Viper says. “You need something?”

Maverick, who seems unable to look away from you, stammers, “Do – I – uh…”

“Maverick,” Viper says sternly, and Maverick finally glances in his direction.

“Commander Metcalf,” Maverick says, a little dazed as though he’s surprised to find Viper in his own office.

“Speak, Lieutenant. I don’t have all day,” Viper grumbles, still irritable from the news he’s received during your visit.

Maverick, who seems unable to recall why he’s even come, gulps nervously and glances back at you again.

“Okay, well, thanks dad,” you say quickly. “I’ll be off now.”

Maverick’s face slowly morphs into a visage of terror as he realizes who you are and what, in fact, it means for him to have had relations with the commander’s daughter. He watches you in horror, beginning to mouth the word ‘dad’ before he catches himself and leaves his mouth hanging open on the ‘a’.

“How will you get home?” Viper asks you, not paying attention to Maverick’s reaction.

“Susan’s picking me up,” you respond.

Viper sighs again. Then, he sighs in Maverick’s direction. “Maverick, meet my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Lieutenant Mitchell, recent Top Gun graduate and a helluva pilot. Hopefully, soon to be one of our newest instructors. If he finally remembers why he’s here, that is.”

Maverick glances anxiously between your face and Viper’s and then holds his hand out to you. “Pleased to meet you,” he says courteously, his eyes resting on yours for a significant moment.

You give him a tight smile and then give your father a hug. “I’ve got to go.”

Viper shakes his head all over again. “I still can’t believe that bastard hit you.”

“Who hit you?” Maverick looks over at you sharply, suddenly on high alert.

“Nobody – the other driver.” You exhale wearily, not too keen on repeating the story for a fourth time in one day. “I was in an accident –”

“Are you okay?” Maverick asks, immediately taking a step toward you.

“I’m fine, totally fine,” you assure him, taking several steps backward until you feel the doorknob at your spine. “I just need some rest.”

“We’ll sort out the car tomorrow,” Viper says.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t a jet, right?” you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Neither Viper not Maverick is amused by your humor, however, so you reach behind and pull open the door.

“Okay, well, bye dad! Mav – uh – Lieutenant Mitchell.”

Maverick stares after you as you retreat behind the door, still somewhat speechless.

“Tell Susan to drive carefully!” your father calls.

“Will do!” you call back.

Finally, Maverick speaks again. “I, uh” – he clears his throat – “I could give her a ride, sir.”

You pause in the doorway while your father purses his lips, considering the offer. Joke’s on him, of course, since Maverick has already given you one – just last night.

Read Part 2

Maverick Tag List:

I have no idea when this list got so long but the rest of it will be in the comments. Hope I got everyone, let me know if I missed you! As always, let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Mav works!

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@callsign-echo

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@creativitybeware

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@callsignmaverick5

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@hermaeusmorax

@littlebadariell

@simp-for-fictional-people

@ollyoxenfrees

@iamabeautifulperson18

@living-in-my-imagination88

@wintercap89

@mavrellover91

@gingerbreadandpaper

[ziminy]

Run little butterfly

You were trying to run from home when you met him, disappearing from his side just the way you appeared next to him, in a dramatic way out of nowhere. And now that he found you, he won't let you go ever again.

Tags: smut, mdni, f!Cinderella reader, king!sukuna, true form sukuna, Sukuna's hand mouth (you'll see what I'm talking about), oral (m and f receiving), first time, fingering, creampie, crying, double penetration, two dicks kuna, Sukuna being a little bit too obsessed with you, jealousy, Sukuna haves a harem,

Author's note: this is a last minute fic I came up with to not leave sukuna out this year's list. Don't worry bbg, I'll never forget about you😘

Author's note: a very much different version of Cinderella. I was thinking of sticking to the original but it doesn't really scream me, so I had to change it.

Masterlist kinktober masterlist

You were the only child of a small noble house. You grew up enjoying the little's of life, trying to understand the beauty of it and the people next to you.

Your father was gone most of the time since he was traveling for work. You had your mother next to you, making you feel less sad and looking forward for the next day to come.

But your happiness didn't lasted for long, because your mother fell ill. And not long after that, she unfortunately passed away, leaving you and your father all alone.

It was sad, your favorite person in the world disappearing just in a blink of an eye.

You didn't even had time to mourn her death and your father remarried, bringing home a woman you never saw in your life and two other kids who happened to be the same age as you.

You were ignored most of the time, your father gone and your new mother couldn't give a single fuck about what you were doing.

You wished you could go back in time when no one would look in your direction. Because the moment your father also passed away, your life did a 180.

Everything happened way to fast, losing your family, now even the servants leaving because that woman was refusing to pay them. You were also moved to the attic.

You couldn't catch a single break since that woman and her daughters were mistreating you everyday.

You stayed there for a few years, that until you turned old enough to leave somewhere far away and live independently.

You didn't cared about the house, the memories, the people you once loved anymore. All you wanted was to run as soon as possible.

So, one afternoon, right after everybody called it a day and you were supposed to go to sleep, you tried to make your escape.

Taking a horse, you made your way to the gate, getting ready to run so far away that you won't have to ever think about this place again.

You followed the main path, going and going, not stopping until you were out of town.

For the first time in years, you were happy. The more you were getting away from that hell hole, the more you smiled.

After good minutes of getting further away from that house, you calmed down. Feeling at a safe distance to finally breath and let all the weight from your shoulders drop.

You stopped in front of an inn. Getting off your horse and leave it in front of the illuminated building, petting it for a moment before you got some courage to get inside.

You had a few coins that you managed to save over the past few weeks. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep you alive for a few days until you find some accommodation, a house that you could finally call your own.

You opened the door, immediately being met with a few people that were sitting at the tables. This places was a lot more full on the inside that it looked on the outside. Whatever, it was none of your business what other does when you had your own problems.

"I'd like to rent a room for the night." you said when you got to the counter.

"I have to check what rooms I have available." the older man in front of you said.

"Also, I have a horse outside. Do you have a stable where I can move it to?" you asked, hoping that your loyal friend will get a good night sleep.

"In the back." you wasted no more time and went outside, moving your horse to a comfortable stable where it could rest for a while.

Now, you were walking back to the inn, ready to pay for your room and sleep until tomorrow morning, then take off to another town and only imagining how life would be stress free.

Right outside the inn, there was an extremely tall guy, you could only see his body form because he had his face covered with the hood of his cloak.

You only looked at him for a moment, but right before you were about to enter the tavern, you felt some arms on you, being dragged to the side.

Your heart was about to get out your chest, you thought that was the end of your journey. Here goes your freedom. It haven't even been an hour and you were caught already.

But instead of your evil step mother or her ugly daughters, you were met with that tall man from earlier.

"I must admit, they did a good job this time." he said in a low voice that gave you chills down your spine. You were confused, not understanding his words, but you didn't dared to open your mouth. You just stood there, silent, waiting for an explanation.

You looked at him with big eyes, you could bearly see his face since it was dark outside, and the light from inside the inn wasn't giving you any help to figure out who he was.

He knew nothing about you and he was already salivating. You were nothing like he saw before. Daring to show up before him in peasants clothes, looking tired and full of anxiety. And yet, you looked so sweet that he couldn't help but want to break you already.

He thought he said he doesn't want any kind of unwanted guests during his trip, but he's not complaining about it when you looked so ready to take him.

He couldn't help but laugh, making you even more confused, and now trying to get away.

When you thought that you could get free, you felt another pair or arms around you. Now you got four arms on you, two on your hips and keeping you in place, one hand on your arm and one under your chin, lifting it up to look at him.

All you could see were his red eyes, that looked like they're glowing.

He looked like a beast who just captured his prey and you couldn't help but feel scared, he was way too intimidating.

His eyes scaned your face for a moment, looking at the dumb expression you had, and then it went lower.

Your lips look so tasty. He wanted to kiss you just to see how you'll react, even if he's usually the type to avoid such act.

Usually, his women would come into his room, look all dolled up and pretty before they take care of him and then leave. No questions asked, no feelings involved.

However, you look so dumb. He couldn't help but want to tease you. To touch you and overstimulate you until you're even more stupid that you already are.

He leaned down, getting his face closer to yours, somehow trying to anticipate your next move. Will you moan or will you keep quiet? Now he wanted to hear your broken cries even more.

He stopped right in front of your face, your noses almost touching. All he did was to look at you.

You froze, all the air from your lungs stopping in place. You couldn't process what was going on.

"Don't use that pretty brain on things you don't understand." even he can't understand why he was acting like that. Craving for you even if this is the first time he saw you.

You parted your lips, wanting to say something, but you couldn't say a single word. Your voice was stuck in your throat.

"Forget about everything they told you. That training was irrelevant." training? What was he talking about? "I make the rules, remember that." right, you shouldn't listen to his servants telling you how to please him. He knows himself better than them.

He misunderstood this completely. You weren't one of his new added toys to his collection. You had no idea who he even was to begin with.

But he didn't cared, his face continued moving, ignoring whatever questions you might have as his lips finally touched yours.

His eyes were cold, and so was his touch. His hands were roughly placed on your body, dragging you closer in his arms. His kisses were loveless, no sign of affection as he tried to deeper the kiss.

Taking all the warmth you had to offer, his cold body was slowly becoming warmer. Bathing in your scent, one of his hands went behind your head, holding you in place to be able to kiss you better. One of his hands on yours, trying to wrap it around his body, wanting to feel more of your touch.

He wanted to be in your arms, to feel how is it when you hold him tightly.

Fuck is even wrong with him. He's not usually like this but now his cocks were hard against his pants, wanting to break free and be inside you. Ah, but he's going feral just thinking about your warm wet cunt taking all of him in. And you must take him in, he won't let you rest until you can take him properly.

"Master." someone could be heard from behind a corner, making you jump and almost run from there.

"Tsk." the tall man said annoyed, getting his face away from you, now fixing his posture but still having you in his arms.

"I prepared the thing you asked me to." that person said again, not daring to show their face.

"Alright." the man said annoyed, finally getting his arms away from you. He looked at you for one more time before he left, leaving you all alone to process what just happened.

You couldn't possibly remain there for the night, you had to leave this place, and you had to leave now. That guy was nothing but a big red flag. Everything about him screamed danger, and you weren't stupid enough to fuck around and find out.

So, in a desperate attempt to get away from there, you went back to the stables, getting your horse out and getting on top of it. You left that place in a hurry, not looking back for a moment as you went back to the place you consider to be safe. By safe I meant that he couldn't possibly appear there, there's no way he could.

So, you ran back to that hell house. Leaving the horse back in its place as you quickly ran inside the house.

Never in your life did you think you'll be so happy to see the same old kitchen you spend most of your time into. And never were you so happy to run to the attic and jump into that rusty bed, falling asleep immediately.

But when you finally got home, the mysterious stranger that you met at the inn just finished his task. Getting into his room and calling for someone to get you to him. He couldn't help but want to ravish you right there and then, split you open on his dicks and pump a few loads in you.

"There's no one in this inn that describes that appearance." were they shitting on him now?

"This female that was recently added to the harem." he tried to find other words to explain it. He knew nothing about you besides how you looked and how sweet you taste for him.

"She's currently at the palace. You told us you don't want to see her because of how inexperienced she was." he did that, didn't he. He remembers something now, a girl with long dark hair getting into his bed wearing nothing but a red transparent bathrobe. She was nothing but talk, it made him lose interest immediately.

"Then I want to see all the females in this inn." he got to find you. He knows you're real, it was no way you weren't.

"There are no other guests besides us." then who the fuck were you? Why did you appeared only before him and then disappeared after making him so hungry for you. Were you a piece of his imagination? No wander he wanted to touch you so bad.

Then he haves no option but to look for someone similar to you, his vision, when he gets back to the palace.

And that night, one of you slept better than a a cat napping under the sunlight and the other was wide awake the whole time.

Sure, the next day came and it reminded you of why you tried to run in the first place, but wasn't it better when you knew you won't have to deal with strangers. Especially someone like that brute of a man.

Your chores and the harassment those three women gave you was annoying, but after yesterday, you'll managed to live a few more weeks with it.

When the weather clears, you'll go out again, and this time you'll do a lot more better.

But perhaps, the universe was giving you a much better solution than to sneak out the house.

Because, you see, by the end of that week your house received a invitation to the Royal ball, and it says that the king is finally going to chose a queen.

Your sisters were running around in circles trying to find a good dress. And the mess they made while looking around was giving you headaches.

But you couldn't really complain when you're planning to leave while they're at the ball.

"Can I come to the ball?" you asked with a basket full of clothes in your hands, being tasked to wash and iron them by the end of the day.

"Mother! Do you hear her nonsense?" one of the sisters yelled, making you close your eyes at the loud noise.

"She can't! Mother!" the other sister said, going to her mother and trying to beg her to say no.

"Do you think they need more servants there? It's a happy ceremony, not a job interview." you knew no was the answer, but still. You tried to see if something changed at least in one of them. Hoping to find a reason to stay in this house for a little longer.

The moment they left in their carriage to the ball, it was the moment you ran out the house and ready to get on the horse.

"Now now, no need to be sad." a masculine voice could be heard behind you, making you turn around instantly.

Two men, both of them dressed in black, one with long black hair and the other with white hair and sun glasses.

"We're here to save you." the white haired guy said, making you raise an eye brow. "Aren't you glad?"

"Who are you?" they acted like it was normal for two unknown men to appear in your yard and act all nonchalant.

"Your fairy godmother."

"But you're two, and men." you tried to correct their words.

"We come in a package. And being a fairy godmother sounds better than a fairy godfather." the white haired guy said.

"Gojo and I will help you go to the ball." the dark haired man said.

"I don't want to." you refused, getting your horse out and ready to get on it.

"But you looked so sad earlier." the white haired guy sounded like he was mocking you. "Come on, don't lie to us."

"If you want to do something for me then kick those women out." it was much better than going to a ball you weren't invited to.

"But you look like you already have your future planned out. Why would we interfere?"

"Then why are you here?" you said, getting ready to get on your horse.

"We better get started or you'll arive when the ball is finished." out of nowhere both of them got some kind of wands in their hands, moving it around in the air before both of them started to do their magic.

"If you're going to a ball you'll need a carriage." the dark haired guy said and you saw a pumpkin floating in the air, getting in front of you and slowly becoming bigger, slightly changing its color and shape.

"We need horses too." the other man said and some mices were turned into horses.

"And a coachman." they looked like they were having fun while you were still very much miserable.

"What about the dress?"

"Something blue?" with a hand movement, your clothes were changed into a big ball gown dress. "And look, glass slippers."

"That will be uncomfortable." the dark haired guy said, getting ready to change your shoes into something more comfortable.

"No, no. They're very much comfortable. Try to walk around." the other guy said, making you walk back and forth and give him a review of how your shoes were.

"It's good. My feet doesn't hurt." you said and try to jump around to show that everything was alright.

"Okay then. Get inside." both of them pushed you inside the carriage.

"You have until midnight to come back."

"The spell breaks when the clock shows 12. Remember that."

"Now go, and don't come back until you had all the fun you needed." they both disappeared into thin air. Leaving you alone in a carriage on the way to a ball you didn't want to go to.

You could jump out the carriage and go back home. But if you're being honest, you want to have a last good memory before you leave your good for nothing status and name and live freely.

A ball didn't sounded that bad. There would be music, food, and a lot of people so you won't have to worry about standing out. There's peacocks out there who are trying too hard to make themselves distinguished, so, you're good.

The castle was a lot bigger up close. You could see it every day from your window in the morning. It already looked big, but now? Damn, you're scared you'll stand out because you have no idea how to act like a noble.

You took a deep breath before getting out of the carriage. Grabbing a bit of your dress in your hands, to help you walk up the stairs.

With small steps, you took your time, looking around at the beautiful paintings and the way the whole place looked like it was covered in gold.

There were guards everywhere. It was a bit scary, if you think about it, but you chose to ignore it.

"Excuse me." you went to someone who looked like they worked there. "Do you know where the ballroom is at?" you asked, being lost in that foreign place.

"This way, miss." the man said in a professional voice, showing you the way to the place where you'll spend the next few hours before you disappear for good.

You went inside the room, being welcomed with a lot of people who didn't looked twice in your direction.

The ballroom was filled with music, but no one was dancing. Rather than that, they were talking between themselves.

Rich people, what do you know.

Most of them were dressed in a similar way to you, but there were some who went over the top. And now that you're thinking about it, your step sisters were doing too much. They probably stand out like crazy, and you couldn't help but giggle.

You decided to go and look around. What's a party without food and drinks?

Making your way between people who didn't wanted to move and inch, you found a table with some desserts on it. They look so tasty, and the taste was even more incredible. Can you steal a few for your journey? Or can you pretend to be a worker there and sneak into the kitchen?

Happy with your discovery, you took a plate of some cake and went to sit somewhere where no one will disturb you.

A small couch that was surrounded by little to no people. And you couldn't ask for more.

You sat on it, enjoying the sweet in your hands, the peace and the fact that no one was giving you any attention.

But the thing is, that if you payed some attention you would have saw why no one dared to stay there. It was the closest couch to the king.

It was in the right side of the throne, just a few feet away from it.

How could you be so blind? How could you not notice that brute of a man. Standing so tall that you could see him from a few crowds away, four arms, not two like the rest of the people in that ballroom. Pink hair that looked like candy, and yet it didn't made him look any softer.

Unlike you, he noticed the person who sat on the couch right away.

His eyes widened, mouth slightly opened as he kept looking at you again and again. Blinking, rubbing his eyes and then blinking again.

"You see that person?" the king asked the closest person next to him, to confirm he wasn't seeing things.

"The lady in the blue dress?" that was all he needed to hear to know he was in fact not hallucinating.

He got up, ignoring who ever dared to come his way and walk to you, stopping right in front of you who still haven't acknowledged his existence.

You raised your head when you finally noticed him, mouth full of delicious cake. You had the same big round eyes he remembers. You gulped, swallowing the sweet down your throat. He haven't said a word since he stopped in front of you, still being in his own world, still not believing that you came to him yourself. He didn't had to look for a replacement anymore.

"Can I help you?" your voice was like magic to him. It could make him melt if you said the right words.

He laughed, a big smirk on his face. But that only made you confused.

You looked left and then right, looking for a clue on what's going on. Perhaps he wanted to sit down and this was the only available space. You knew that nobles have some complicated etiquettes they follow, so maybe he's waiting for you to do something?

Ah, you finally get it. You got up, bowing politely to let him know that was your goodbye. But when you wanted to turn around, you suddenly woke up in the air, and a pair of arms wrapped around you.

"Wha-" panicked, you grabbed onto him. But now that you look at the situation, he was the one who got you in his arms, carrying you out of there. "What are you doing?" this couldn't be normal.

"Don't act like you don't remember me now." his words made sense to you, somehow.

He looked familiar, but you couldn't figure out from where. You don't know his name, this was the first time you saw his face, but that voice sounded so familiar. And his body, it also looked like you saw it before.

He walked around the castle like he owned it. Opening door after door, and getting deeper inside it, and far away from the ballroom.

"Who are you?" he was no ordinary person, you could see that. He walked freely without a single person saying a thing.

He made the guards look like decorations, and they didn't dared to say a thing to him. The palace workers bowed before him, and even the nobles were trying to please him.

"Where are you taking me?" you asked when you figured the answer to the first question.

He still didn't said a word and open one last door.

This room was deep inside the palace, you'd get lost if you try to run from there on your own. But perhaps that was what he wanted from the start. To lock you somewhere you won't be able to run from even if you try to escape.

That place had a big bed in the middle of the room, a couch that was facing the fire place, a big bookcase filled from top to bottom and some really big windows. From what you can see out the windows, and the fact you just walked up a lot of stairs, you were really high up. You won't be able to survive without breaking a few bones if you try to jump.

He really thought of everything, huh?

Walking to the bed, he placed you on it. Turning around and walking towards the door. He didn't thought of finding you this soon, so he had no idea what to do.

"Can I.." you bite your lips before speaking, too afraid that you know the answer too well. "Can I still go home?" he paused when he got in front of the door, but didn't said a thing. "The guys that helped me get here told me to get back before midnight." he almost broke the door when he heard those words. The what? The guys? They did what? "This is actually a spell. I don't actually look like this." he turned around and marched to the bed.

There was something scary in his eyes. But you couldn't help but look at him.

Did you tricked him? Was someone plotting against him and send a doppelganger to play with him?

"Who sent you?"

"I have no idea." you looked away. He won't believe you even if you tell him.

"Tell me." his cold eyes could petrify anyone.

"You don't trust me." you shook your head, trying to brush this off.

"I do. Now tell me." he looked like he could kill you right there, and no one would say a thing about it. You won't be missed, you won't be mourned. You don't even have someone to think about even in your last moments of living.

"Can I leave or not?" your voice just as cold as his, and for a moment he could feel his blood boil. You talked to other men, they send you there to the palace to make a clown out of him and now you dared to act like it was his fault for locking you in a place where he knows you won't run from.

"No." you sighed at his response. Disappointed in yourself for even trying, for listening to some strange men and for not running away when you had the perfect chance to.

"At midnight I turn back to my usual self. I'm not like this, I don't dress this way. You won't like me anymore after that." he was looking for a replacement from the start. This ball was held to find a doll that resembled you. And he found it. You can turn into a hideous monster and he'll find a way to turn you back into this form.

"And you think that I care?"

You looked confused. You had no idea what was going on in his head. What made him act like this and why.

Did you looked like an ex lover? Or someone who passed away? Because if that's the case, then he won't find what he's looking for in you.

"I won't submit to you." you tried to make it clear. "I'm my own person. I can't act like someone else."

He takes your words as a challenge.

He'll transform you into the perfect puppet. You'll match his expectations and taste in all aspects. You'll love him with all your heart and wait for him to return to you at the end of the day. All you need is a little training. And by how things looks, you'll need an intense one.

"You think you can defy me, brat?" he was mocking you. His voice was so annoying.

His face, his body, his status, everything was getting on your nerves now.

"I'm going home." you said. It wasn't a question or request, you were letting him know.

"Try." the shock look on your face was priceless. You looked offended by his words and he couldn't ask for more. He lied, he will get more out of you. Words, expression, feelings, he wants to see everything.

You tried to get up the bed, ignoring the fact that he was right in front of you. He didn't stopped you, he just looked at your dumbfounded expression when your actions weren't stopped by him.

He laughed, his voice filling the whole room.

You looked like you were going to cry, and he couldn't help but want to bite you. Sink his teeth deep into your flesh and leave marks all over your body.

For a moment, you stopped in place, not daring to get close to the door anymore.

Where have you felt that feeling before? The feeling of being watched by a ferocious predator.

You slowly turn around, to look at him who was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed. You recognize those red eyes now. It's the same as back then, when you almost successfully ran from home but you were met with that freak who made you turn around.

The realization look you had on your face made his eyes darker.

You had to get out of there, now.

You were if full panic mode, slowly walking backwards to the door, putting your hands on the handle and open it. Not a single second wasted as you ran down that hallway, dress in your arms and trying to get as far away from him as possible.

You stopped just for a moment to look back when you got to some stairs. He was nowhere to be seen, and you didn't know if you actually lost him or he was playing with you.

Whatever, you can think about that after you run from there.

The midnight clock could be heard in the background, but you weren't preoccupied by it. In fact, you couldn't even hear it, too focused on running down that mountain of stairs.

One of your shoes slipped off your foot. You turned around to look at it, and then you saw him, at the end of the stairs and looking down at you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you almost stopped working for a moment.

Leave it there, a shoe didn't matter when you had far more things to worry about.

You soon got to a hallway, a big open door a few meters away of you, and you couldn't help but run even faster. But the closer you got, the more the door close. And by the time you got to it, it was completely shut.

"No, please!" you banged on the door. "Let me through." no answer.

You tried to open it, pulling it as hard as you can, but nothing. Going back wasn't an answer, and there weren't any other rooms that you could hide in.

There was only one option left. So many windows on your right, it was easy to open one and try to escape. And so you did, you opened a window and looked down for a moment. A broken neck doesn't sounds that bad, if you're thinking about it.

You took a deep breath, with a hand lifting as much of your dress in your arms, and with the other holding onto the window, ready to jump on it and see what the outcome of this event will be.

With no hesitation, you placed your knee on the window frame, trying to balance yours with your other foot and get on top of the window. But then you felt those big muscular arms wrapped around you once again.

"I didn't thought you had the balls to do it." his mouth was right into your ear, his voice leaving chills all over your body. "I might lock you in the basement if you continue to be a bad girl." he can do it, who's stopping him. You won't give up without a good fight.

"So? What do you want from me?" with this he knew you were the person he was looking for. Daring to disappear again just like back at the inn. You loved getting on his nerves, didn't you?

"We have unfinished business." what was he talking about?

"I didn't do anything." and that's the problem. The fact that you left him when he needed you. How dare you.

"Look at the time." he said when he was walking back on the stairs, holding you in his arms. With two holding your body and the other two wrapped around you, in case you planned on doing something crazy again.

"I told you, this is all a spell." and he can't wait for it to go away.

He stopped in place, and you had no idea what he was going to do. "Your shoe." he said, looking at the glass slipper.

"That would disappear too." but that didn't stopped him from moving one of his hands from you and picking up the glass slipper.

He continued walking back to that cursed room, throwing you in bed.

"Let's wait for the spell to break." he sat on a chair next to the door, waiting for your next move. Will your run to the door and try to escape again? Will you jump on him and try to harm him or will you try to jump out the window? He couldn't help but feel exited for your next move.

The disappointed look on his face when you just stood there. Looking down at the floor and from time to time at him with a ugly look in your eyes. You hated him? But that's a strong feeling, wasn't it?

And your words were true. You started glowing, and soon your appearance slightly changed. Your clothes were back to your old rags, your make up gone and your hair freely on your back.

He waited, excited. He couldn't help but wet his lips with his tongue, gulping and pressing his palms against each other. You better transform or he'll do it for you.

He expected more. He thought he'll see something unseen before. A monster, or you at your worst. You got him overthinking that your previous appearance was all a lie, but now you got him to want to bully you for lying to him.

He got up, getting closer to the bed. He stood there before you, expressionless, before he pushed you in bed, making you fall on your back.

"I didn't know you were a liar."

"What do you mean? The spell broke."

"You look exactly the same." he was on top of you, caging you between him and the bed. "You look even better than before." he was strange, truly.

"I still want to go home." you'll try as much as you can. There must be something that will work on this guy.

"I don't want you to."

"And who are you to decide for me?" he didn't respond to your question, choosing to ignore it like most of your questions. Instead, he smashed his lips against yours, his craving for your touch far too loud to ignore it.

And then it hits you. If you distract him, and act all sweet, you might actually be able to fool him and run away.

So, your hands wrapped around his neck, dragging him closer to you. He looked shocked, and for a moment he just stood there.

"What?" you spit those words at him, annoyed. Even if you cooperate with him, your words can't help but show your true colors.

"Take your clothes off." you gasped.

"I'm not doing this before marriage." you said, not wanting to do more than kissing.

"Consider the ball tonight the wedding ceremony." you looked at him in disbelief. "I'll take them off if you don't want to." even worse.

"I never did this before." you said. Maybe he'll have a heart and try to understand your situation.

"It's definitely going to hurt." no encouragement words? What a dickhead.

"I'll do it myself, no need for you to do a thing." you got up the bed, your hands traveling here and there, taking your time while undressing.

He stood at the edge of the bed, watching your every move. You can run if you want, the door is open, and it would stay that way until he leaves that room. So, you can try as much as you want, it's entertaining watching you fail.

But you didn't run, instead, you did as he said. Taking your clothes off with shaking hands and biting off any bad words you wanted to say out loud.

"Come and help me too." he could only laugh at your expression. But you got closer to the bed, no protests. He better sleep with his eyes open tonight.

He placed his much bigger hand on top of yours, dragging it on him.

You had no idea what to do. You kept looking at his body, at his arms, at his big chest, his shoulders. "Try and undress me, not just with your eyes." he was too much.

You slowly took whatever you could off him, and he just looked at you the whole time.

Now, when both of you were naked, you just stood there in front of him. You couldn't help but stare. He had two cocks, not one but two. I mean, he haves two of everything, but you didn't expect for him to have two dicks as well.

"Close your mouth and stop staring." he laughed at your dumbfounded expression.

"I don't know what to do." he tapped the placed next to him with his palm.

"Lay down here." you layed down on the bed, waiting for what he planned on doing. "You have to open your legs more." isn't he asking for too much already? One of his hands traveled in between your legs. "Look at me." you was expecting everything but to feel something licking your clit. You gasped, and looked at his hand. It was just a hand but it didn't felt that way at all. He laughed again. "I told you to look at me. Don't think of things you can't understand." but you don't get it. You could feel a tongue, traveling between your folds, going up and down, playing with your pearl.

"What's that?" you asked out of breath, forgetting how to even breath for a moment.

"This?" he showed you his palm, which was having a mouth on it. Since when was it there? His hand went back between your legs, playing with your clit again, one of his other hands joining in, as you felt something at your entrance. "Keep your eyes on mine or I'll give you something to occupy yourself with." you had no idea what he was planning to do. With a quick move, he stood up, his dicks against your face. "You know what to do." you looked up at him, at his dumb grin and then at his friends that were right in your face. "Open your mouth." one of his thumbs was on your lips, pressed against it to make you open it and suck on it. He then moved his hand and took one of his cocks, giving it to you to do your thing.

You weren't trained to please him, but even so, he had some expectations from you.

You could do it. If others could, so can you. But look at you, who can't even take half of his fat cock into your mouth.

"Do good and I'll reward you." he said and added another finger inside your wet pussy. "See?" he said and curled his fingers. "Now get to work."

With your head pressed against his thigh, you wrapped a hand around one of his cocks, while trying to take the other in your mouth.

He let out a loud groan, making you unsure if you should continue or stop.

A promise is a promise, and he's true to his words. Since you're trying so hard to please him, he should return the favor. He kept curling his fingers, going in and out of you as his mouth kept playing with your pretty clit. He was touching all the good places, he knew that, and he didn't stopped a bit. Now determined to discover even more places and touch better than before.

Your walls started to clench around him, squeezing him so tight and making him wander how that will feel around his cock.

"You wanna cum? You better keep working then." his words made you try even harder, too desperate of that foreign feeling inside of you.

He kept moving his hands, and you kept trying to figure out what to do to him. But oh, you were so close that you couldn't think straight anymore. And it happened in a flash, your mind going blank and trembling under his touch as you came.

He kept his hands moving for a little longer before stopping, when you finally came to your senses.

"Now focus on me." his hands went away from you, now gripping your hair and pushing your head down his length. You tapped his thigh, too afraid you won't be able to breathe anymore. He moved your head, sometimes he moved his own hips, and soon, he was going to cum too. "Don't let spill anything. Swallow." he said before cumming down your throat.

This was more than enough. You didn't had the strength to go further than this.

Intimacy can be too tiring. And he looked like he enjoys sucking the energy out of you.

"We're not done yet." not yet? What more does he wants from you?

He got on top of you, positioning between your legs. Two of his arms places next to you, while one held your hips. With his only free hand left, he held one of his cocks at your entrance, rubbing his head against your pussy. Getting his head inside your cunt, then drag it out to rub it between your folds, rubbing it against your clit. Then back at your warm entrance again, slowly getting his head inside, just to get out and then again.

He was playing with you. He was enjoying seeing you mad.

But this time, when he got his tip inside of you, he kept pushing, going deeper and deeper. And he didn't stopped until he got inside all the way in.

Warm, wet and hugging him just right. He loved it. He could stay inside of you forever.

His face got closer to yours, looking at you and at the way you were struggling to fit him in. But he been so attentive to you, and you can't even fit him in.

Slowly, he moved his hips, in and out at a calm pace. It gave you all the time you needed understand how you managed to fit him in. And it also gave him time to understand how painfully slow this was.

His revenge was going to wait a lot before he fucks you properly.

He wanted to rearrange your inside for the way you left him, but now he had no option but to wait.

He's going crazy. He's dying in your arms and you're not doing anything. You're not talking to him, you're not looking at him.

He grabbed your cheeks, pushing them together and making your lips come forward.

"What?" you tried to say.

He kissed you, making you wrap your arms around him as he kept moving his hips.

This was better, when you held him in your arms was so much better. It made this fire inside of him calm down and let him realize the situation he's in.

One of his hands went between your bodies, softly rubbing your clit as he kept moving, making your bodies slightly rock together.

His tongue inside your mouth, his movement was so sloppy, not having a proper rhythms but keep increasing the force he kept slamming into you with.

The first orgams pulled out of you with force, him not giving you a moment to breath and keep going for it until he filled your warm walls with his hot cum.

But when you thought it was over, it never was.

He got out of you, giving you a break for a moment before you felt him back between your legs, this time a lot more bigger. He had both of his dicks in his hand, now trying to push them inside of your pussy to fill you up.

"It won't fit." you said, trying to stop him from this madness.

"Take a deep breath." he said before finally managing to get inside.

He was going to kill you, because this was too much. The way he split you open, being stretched out like never before. And he kept moving his hips too, like the fact that you still haven't accommodate to this strange feeling meant nothing to him.

It hurted, but at the same time, the way he kept you open felt good. And you hate to admit it but you might cum just from this alone.

His hips kept moving, and this weird feeling started to feel so much better. It went to the point where you started crying, too much for you to handle.

"Shh. You can take it." he said, a hand moving some hair away from your face.

He liked those hot tears that were falling from your eyes. It made him wander why he didn't try to make you cry a lot earlier.

Can you even come again? He can't help but wander. Guess he haves to find that out himself.

Pounding into you, keeping you wrapped in his arms and not giving you a break. He managed to make you cum again, now focused on the way your squeezing him again. And just like last time, he painted your insides white, this time getting you fuller than last time.

But it's not over, because he haves to try this again, but from another position.

You didn't managed to last too long and fell asleep in his arms, the next day waking all alone in there.

You wasted no time in putting your clothes back on and running out that room, down the stairs and back into that hallway. Being welcomed with a close door that was blocking your way out. Now having no choice but go back to that room and wait for him to arrive back. Who knows what he's planning to do this time.

Author'a note: I was planning on making Gojo and Geto the step brothers but then it would have because their fan fic. I might write something similar to this but for them. Dunno tho, I'm too lazy to do it.

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[letorip]

Can you do headcanons about meeting/first date with Jenna’s characters?

meetings & first dates

very funny to think about, i really did have quite good fun writing this one. thank you as always to the anon who requested, i was happy to oblige. also this isn’t what i originally planned to put out but casual [iii] should be out soon so maybe this’ll fill the void. i'm also on holiday at the moment, so that's why i'm posting at a weird hour (5 am) my ass had a plane to catch

i think i cooked on the lorraine one, would y'all want that one too

wednesday addams

you meet her in jericho, working behind the counter of the hardware store your parents own, when she stomps inside in her rain soaked boots and down a random aisle without a word at you

when she comes back with a shovel, some duct tape, a taser, and some rope, you have to awkwardly joke that it looks like she's trying to kill something

she doesn't laugh at your joke, instead staring right back at you, and you feel yourself gulp

that's your first interaction, and you don't see her again for a few days, until she comes back to buy a box of nails, and then a week later, a bucket, and a few days after that, a plunger

you won't know it until later, but she didn't actually need the nails or the bucket, she just needed an excuse to go back to the hardware store and buy some stuff so she could get up close to you

after four or five trips of her buying the most odd, random shit, she works up the courage to actually start talking to you a bit more. after a few more trips after that, you ask her what the stuff is all for, and she lets you in on the creature in the woods killing the locals, and that she claims to have seen it

for what it's worth, you believe her immediately, about rowan and the hyde and crackstone, and you listen to her theorise, leaning on the counter until someone else comes in and asks you where the plywood is, and you have to actually go do your job. wednesday stares down the intruder, trying to smite them with her eyes, but you always give her an apologetic smile before you leave

she tells you later when you're better friends and she's confessing, but she thinks of you as an odd comfort and home that she never realised she desired, and being in the hardware store and having you smile at her gave her a single fluttering of that warmth

eventually she brings you on her investigations and her cold, dead heart is running a million miles an hour the entire time, but you have to hide how close you are to wednesday from your father, because of his passionate dislike of outcasts

wednesday comes to your back window and chucks rocks at the glass to get your attention, romeo and juliet style, so that you can sneak out

when you actually ask her out, it's before you've even kissed, and wednesday wordlessly nods yes with her mouth hanging open, before she grabs the collar of your jacket and messily kisses you for the first time

your first date is to a movie, and to a horror movie, to be more specific. you take her to get food at a local diner that's open 24 hours, super late at night, and though she makes a remark about how these restaurants were unhealthy and an indicator of what's wrong with america, she thoroughly enjoys her waffle and you even manage to get her to wear one of those silly diner hates for a moment. she doesn't admit it, but she likes making you laugh

the movie is an incredibly rough experience. you despise horror movies, but wednesday is left smiling at the screen as a man is ripped to shreds in front of your eyes

that is until she realises your discomfort, and she realises you only did this because you knew she would like it. the realisation literally blows her mind, and she watches your face contort in disgust and fear, before gently reaching over and hastily grabbing your hand

she doesn't say another word, struggling to process the new emotions until you're both done with the movie and walking home. you're ranting about how gross it was and how you would be having nightmares for weeks because of it, and then she reaches up to the back of your neck and pulls you down into another fiery kiss, right as it starts to rain

tara carpenter

you've known tara for years, since you're also from woodsboro. you went to the same elementary school and she’s known of you for a long, long time since you chased her around the playground with a lizard in your hands

tara's always liked you, and you've both always had some attraction to each other and magical chemistry, but there's always been something to keep you apart

tara's involvement with amber and then chad, and then your own girlfriends, it was never the right time for you both to explore whatever electricity you could feel between you, so you didn't until you were both well into your year at blackmore

you only really get close until you take the same film class as tara. tara takes it because she's a film major and you take it because you need the credit and it's the only option of a class that takes place after 8 in the morning

you sit right next to each other and for the whole semester, you two slowly grow closer and closer, poking each other and whispering stuff while the professor prattles on

she's the de facto film buff of the group, only rivalled by mindy, and so you go to her whenever you're working on a project, because you're definitely the type to watch stupid shit, and not the high-brow film stuff the class requires

it means you end up hanging out a lot, at the library, at the coffee shop, on the couch of her apartment. you both set up the '1 for 1' rule, in which she gets to show you a movie for ever movie you get to show her

and she shows you really annoyingly good stuff, while you make her watch utter garbage. neither of you admit it, but you end up liking some of the high-brow art she pushes and she ends up having fun with the stupid movies you show her

when she makes you watch the babadook, you make her watch hot tub time machine, when she makes you watch citizen kane, you make her watch bridesmaids, and when she makes you watch la la land, you make her watch zoolander. it's a mutual exchange of interests, and you both lean against each other when you watch them on the couch or on her bed

paddington absolutely makes tara carpenter cry, there, i said it, and you show it to her and hug her when she does

things are genuinely just so easy and perfect with you, and it's so natural in a way that is unnatural for tara, but in a good way. you're unlike anyone she's ever been with, and it's refreshing and new in a way that's so exciting when you both kiss during the movie before sunrise

that's why it's so funny when your first date goes absolutely awfully

it rains on you, while you both walk to the restaurant and neither of you brought an umbrella because it wasn't projected to rain. then the sushi place you're bringing her to completely forgets your reservation and you're both waiting 30 minutes to get a table, and to top matters off, you end up being allergic to a fish you try for the first time, and need to get taken in hospital

you're not even choking really, just broken out into hives and feeling lightheaded, and tara's in the ambulance with you on the way there, and you're both talking casually, like "how was your day?"

you both get there and realise tara forgot her phone at the restaurant, and whereas anyone else would be pissed and call it a terrible date and give up, you both are fucking laughing your heads off at how cartoonishly awful the date went, even though it's a hospital, and that probably isn't the right place to be laughing in

when you're released super late that night, you both end up just wandering around new york until the late hours of the morning, just talking and occasionally holding hands. tara mentions that it reminds her of la la land, and you kiss, and what would've been a deal-breaking, awful date for anyone else just becomes something you shared with each other, and brings you even more in love

reminds me of the song ant pile by dominic fike

lorraine day

you meet lorraine as the kid of the new corn farmer in town, after your grandfather gets too old to be able to maintain his land by himself. your father has to come back and take over, due to his declining health, and you first see each other when lorraine and her daddy come to say hello and talk business for cow feed

she spots you in the back, leaning on the fence next to the field with your arms crossed and your hat pulled low, and you're just watching her and her dad talking to yours with a frown

she's set on edge by your presence, even though you're not really part of the conversation. she has to stop herself when she realises she keeps looking over at you every couple seconds, and you're still just staring at her and her father in a way that isn't exactly friendly

your dad is a generally nice guy, and he gives her your name in a passing mention and graciously accepts the pie lorraine's momma made to bring to the new partners, but it overall isn't a great first impression, and she decides right there in her daddy's truck on the ride home that she doesn't like you very much

when you're brought up again, it's by her father a week or so later. he's mentioning how helpful you are around your grandfather's farm over dinner, saying how your grandfather is blessed to have someone so good-hearted, and lorraine can’t help but remember the look of you glowering against the fence at them and doubt how true that is

she still doesn't like you, when you actually talk for the first time. RJ is bringing her home after an incredibly awkward date and gets a flat, and just as it starts to rain, guess who spots her and decides to pull over in their rusty ass pickup truck with a weird look on your face that lorraine can't help but assume is smugness

your truck bed is full of tools and supplies for your grandfather's farm and you haven't got a spare on you, but you know there's one in the shed on your farm. there's only one seat open in your truck, and even though lorraine heavily hints to RJ that she doesn't want to go, she's volunteered, as RJ doesn't want to leave his van on the side of the road, even though there's not many people who would touch the piece of junk

you snort when he insinuates that lorraine wouldn't be strong enough to fend off anyone who would take the van, and even though she's equally as miffed by RJ's assumption she's a bit annoyed by you defending her

the ride home is incredibly tense and neither of you say much until you're pulling into your yard and you say, "for the record, i highly doubt he'll be fending anyone off either." it's funny and it almost makes her laugh until she remembers she decided she didn't like you and she has to get serious again, and tells you not to talk about her boyfriend that way, and you don't say anything for the rest of the time you're helping her

she sits in the truck watching you from the wing mirror as you roll the spare out from your shed and then hoist it into the truck bed, looking sweaty and muscles tensing with effort. even though you're kind of annoying, you're tanned and you're fit, and it's something she can't help but notice whenever she goes to your farm in search of her father, who sometimes comes over to buy corn for his cattle

you both naturally start to grow into something resembling a friendship. you'll shoot the shit when you're not working, leaning on the handle of a shovel half in the ground, and lorraine will walk over and just kind of talk to you for a while. she doesn't even really realise the annoyance has melted away until it smacks her in the face that she was really wrong about you

your first date isn't actually a date until it's over. lorraine is at a lake day with her friends when one shows up with you in tow. she didn't even realise you had friends, but you're there with them and you look damn good in your swim suit, and you actually start talking a little bit about leaving the big city for your grandfather

you're all having fun, swimming around and talking, and she sees you're pretty funny when you want to be. it's kind of jarring to see just how wrong she was about you, and you both end up dancing around to your friend playing guitar and singing along

you end up being her ride home, and though there's still an underlying tension in the air, this time your truck is full of laughter and you're both actually talking. about halfway through, you accidentally let it slip that you asked your friend if lorraine was going to be there, and though the tips of your ears are red and you're apologising, lorraine can't help but reach right over and kiss you, and suddenly everything feels right in the world

cairo sweet

you meet her on the first day of creative writing, as the new student at your school, and mr. miller's seating chart places you directly next to her. she stares at you a bit, as if unimpressed by your existence, and you stare right back at her, equally as unimpressed

though you're new, you quickly skyrocket to incredible academic success, and cairo is enraged to find that with the transfer of credits, you're now really the valedictorian, sweeping it from underneath her feet at the very end of her senior year

with that, she absolutely despises you and everything you stand for

you have to trade papers for peer grading and while you calmly grade it at first, when you see that yours is covered in marks and cairo is being absolutely brutal beyond belief, nitpicking every little punctuation mark and symbol she can, you get a bit annoyed and start doing the exact same thing to her

it's a giant game of one-upping the other, and you guys repeatedly mess with each other like a chess match of fucking each other over. neither of you will admit you find the other annoyingly magnetic and captivating, you instead resort to messing with each other's standings

you both are duking it out over each little test grade, as cairo desperately tries to regain her spot at number one and you attempt to fend her off and keep your place. she'll brag about her perfect score on the calculus exam, and then you'll clap back with your extra credit. you absolutely dominate her in maths and sciences but she has you beat in creative writing and histories

winnie is greatly amused by the whole ordeal, and keeps insisting to cairo that you both should get it over with and fuck already but she scoffs and claims to resent the implication. doesn't mean she hasn't thought about it, though

her involvement with mr. miller is something she's only doing to maintain her spot as mr. miller's favourite student. cairo has the writing skill to back it up and is incredibly gifted with the pen, but you ooze a certain charisma that makes the teachers around you all giant fans, and she would be lying if she didn't say she was worried you would pull mr. miller's recommendation letter with it, and steal it right out from under her. it's entirely possible for a teacher to write more than one recommendation letter, she just wants the satisfaction of being the first one to get it

when you're partnered up on a group writing project that needs to be done in pairs, cairo sees it as the perfect opportunity to gather intel on you. another thing she hates is how mysterious you are, and how not many people actually know that much about you, other than how pleasant you are

she insists it has to happen at your house, and though you try to argue, she insists it has to be the case. it surprises her, when she puts your address into her phone and she sees it's a small one bedroom apartment in a bad part of town, without air conditioning and with terrible plumbing, and that your father works three jobs to support you

she doesn't know what she expected, but that's definitely not it, with your ability to dress and intelligence. suddenly her arch nemesis gains a third dimension, and she understands just how hard you work

though you're guarded at first, you both actually slowly discover that you don't exactly mind the other that much. you still want to keep your spot and she desperately wants it for her own, but you say something silly and it makes her laugh- really laugh- for what feels like the first time in a long time

you work together on the project more and more, and suddenly she's enjoying your company and wanting you around. she's definitely a little bit disgusted by that at first, but it's something she can't deny

she asks you on your first date to a poetry reading on a saturday, and you're a bit confused since the group project is already over, but you decide to go anyways and you have a great time. you say something profound after one of the poems, and cairo's eyes just drop to your lips in a weird amazement

she's dragging you to the bathroom immediately before the next poem can even start, and i don't think i have to say what happens next, but it's messy and there's lipstick everywhere

your father snorts when you get home that night, and there's dark red lipstick smudged all over your lips and a bit down your neck, and you roll your eyes at him with a smile

[venusvixen20]

So random thought.

The Diasomia boys are well boys, and until you join them, they never really knocked before entering someone else bedroom.

Being at the school they started the habit but once back home they quickly forget this.

Malluesxyou, Liliaxyou, Silverxyou, Sebekxyou

Had anyone in this castle/ cottage hear of knocking?!

You joined the Diasomia group for summer vacation and stay at the castle/ cottage.

Despite the cottage's small size you're given a room of own our but it doesn't matter because you don't sleep there most nights.

Had anyone in this castle/ cottage hear of knocking?!

You joined the Diasomia group for summer vacation and stay at the castle/ cottage.

Despite the cottage's small size you're given a room of own our but it doesn't matter because you don't sleep there most nights.

Lilia:

Lilia and you try to sneak around the best you can. Trying not to disturbed Silver and you manage, until one morning.

Lilia and you were up up all night and still up. You normally went back to your room but you could hear Silver up and moving around.

"Sh, we need to be quiet." You whispered to Lilia, who just nodded.

Silver was use to you two sleeping in that was normal but you had talked about going to the lake today and wanted to go early. He opened your door to see the room empty.

He quickly went to his Father's door and flung it open. "Father!" Silver began but stopped when he saw the two in a rather compromising position. Luckily your back was turned towards him.

"Silver!" Lilia exclaimed as he pulled the blanket up to cover you up.

"S-Sorry!" Silver exclaimed as he shut the door.

"Knocking! Please learn to knock!" You called after him with a giggle but red faced.

"Good to know I can still traumatized him even in my old age." Lilia chuckled as he received a gentle smack around the chest.

"Lilia!" You gasped just making him laugh more.

Silver:

Lilia knows what you two are up to at night but he seems no harm in it as long as you're being safe.

He can hear you sneaking around at night, going back and forth between the rooms but he always assumed it was at night.

He had gone to the market for his weekly trip. He placed the groceries on the kitchen table. He listened and heard nothing.

"Are they napping again?" He wondered to himself as he made his way to Silver's door. He opened it to see you two laying on his bed naked and asleep but the banging of the door had woken you both up.

"Father!" Silver exclaimed as you did.

"Lilia!" As you both tried to cover up.

You were both red faced as the blanket was brought up to your chin.

"Oops, sorry I should have knocked." Lilia chuckled as he closed the door.

Mallues:

Of course you had your own room, as was proper.

Your room was close to his but it didn't matter where your room was in the castle Mallues came to your room every night.

Some times you even went to his room. That's what you did last night.

Normally you both up early so no one catches you but you were got carried away.

So you were getting out of bed and throwing on your robe when the door was thrown open by Sebek.

"My Lord, your late,...." He began when he was you in your robe and Mallues in just his pajamas bottoms. "My lord, forgive me!" He exclaimed as he blushed and quickly exited the room.

"Knocking Sebek, you need to knock." Mallues called after him.

"Yes my lord!" He called from behind the door making you laugh.

"Poor Sebek. Go easy on him. At least I was in my robe." You chuckled as you go up and hug Mallues.

"Thankfully." Mallues said as he leaned down and kissed you.

Sebek:

Dating a knight wasn't easy but Mallues tried to make it easier by allowing our room close to Sebek's. Right next door.

It made it so easy to spend time together, when Sebek had time. So most of your time spent together at night.

Despite your best efforts you still fell asleep in his room often.

You often woke up to him getting ready for his shift. Every once and awhile you managed to wake up before him and got to wake him up.

Today he had the late shift so you decided to take your time waking him up.

Or so you thought.

Sebek only had his pants on and you were only in your underwear and bra when the door was opened.

"Sebek, you're late." Silver called out as he entered the room and everyone froze. "Oh, sorry!" Silver muttered as he blushed and quickly left the room.

"Knocking Silver!" Sebek shouted after him just as red faced.

*******************************************************

I hope you enjoyed this short. I wrote this quickly while I still had an idea in my head.

I was watching a show and there was a scene similar to the first one and it gave me this idea.

I hope you liked it.

[gloomweed]

Not Alone

(Eddie Munson/Reader Comfort One-Shot)

Summary: After a traumatic incident, you seek out the comfort of your crush best friend Eddie in the late evening.

Author's Note: I wrote this as a means to cope with my own recent traumatic experience involving my alcoholic father, so this is pretty self-indulgent comfort fic; however, I left the details pretty vague so hopefully it can relate to most others. Pretty much anyone with a shitty home life. Also, reader is referred to as a girl, but no pronouns are used for the reader and physical characteristics aren't mentioned. wc: ~2.8k tw: reader has an alcoholic father (implied), otherwise this a fluffy comfort one-shot.

Eddie’s dreamless sleep was interrupted by the sound of gentle rapping at the door. At first he thought he was hearing things, but when the sound repeated he rolled out of bed with a groan. He glances at the clock on his night stand that reads 12:23 am in bright red lights. Not bothering to put on a shirt, he rubbed the crust from his eyes as he stumbled towards the living room. Who the hell is knocking at this time of night? Peeking through the peep-hole, his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your hair was disheveled, like you had been running your hands through it, and the way you held your arms made you seem so small and fragile. Completely unlike yourself on any normal day.

The old screen door squeaks as he opens it, but underneath that sound, Eddie could hear you sniffling. Without the filter of the dirty glass covering the peep-hole, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy. The light from the porch lamp caught on the tear streaks running down your cheeks, making it look like gold. “Sorry, Eddie. I know you were probably sleeping, but-”

From the moment he spots you, it's clear to Eddie that you're in some kind of trouble. It puts him on edge, becoming hyper vigilant for your sake. He cuts you off as he ushers you inside with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about that, just get in here.” He's been around the block before, so he knows to make sure you aren't being followed by some lurking creep looking to prey on a vulnerable girl. He keeps an eye out as you enter, looking for any signs of immediate danger. From what he can tell, the rest of the trailer park is asleep. With no cars or people passing by, he follows you indoors, locking the deadbolt behind him. 

Inside, you stand in the entryway for a moment, unsure what to do with yourself now that you're here. After locking the door, Eddie sees you standing there frozen. With a faraway look in your glassy eyes, you looked like you were lost in thought. His gaze doesn't leave your sad face as he gently takes hold of your hand, swiping his calloused thumb over your knuckles in an attempt to bring you back to the present moment. When you finally look him in the eyes, he smiles in what he hopes is in a comforting way. It’s okay. You’re here now. I’m here for you. You manage a tight lip smile of your own, grateful you have such a good friend.

He jerks his head in the direction of the couch, and you accept with a nod. Eddie leaves for a moment to grab the roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. When he holds it out to you, he explains. “We don’t have any real tissues, so this is the best I can offer.” As you take it from him, he cringes with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Thank you.” Taking a few squares off the roll, you wipe your face and blow your nose. 

Eddie takes a seat beside you, looking worried. He runs his sweaty hands over his pant legs, feeling unsure of how he should help you. “So, uh… Do you want to talk about it, or is this more like a ‘no questions asked’ situation?”

There is a silent pause as you gather your thoughts, unsure yourself of what you want. You take a deep breath and release it slowly, refocusing yourself on the reason you decided to make an impromptu visit to your friend so late at night. “It’s my dad.” Eddie nods, aware that you have what some might call a ‘complicated relationship’ with your dad. Personally, he prefers to call it ‘your dad is an asshole, but you don’t have the means to move out of your parent’s place just yet, so you’re forced to just grin and bear it until you can.’ You fiddle with the crumpled toilet paper in your lap, frowning. “It got bad. He was yelling and screaming and breaking things.” The furrow of your brow made it seem like you were about to cry again. 

“You don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to. I mean, look who you’re talking to. If there’s anyone who understands having a shitty dad, it’s me.” Eddie smirks as he confidently puts his hand on his chest. It’s enough to make you smile in appreciation of his understanding. “So what I’m hearing is you need to stay here for a few days?”

Eddie’s offer makes your heart skip and the moment it's out there, you're shaking your head. “Just for the night would be plenty. You don’t have to let me stay at all if you’re busy-” 

He shakes his head with a smile, amused by the thought of him being too busy for you. “Nah, it’s no trouble. You know I like having you around.” He winks playfully knowing it would make you laugh. And it does, albeit just barely. It’s really more a snuff of breath exhaled out of your nose, but Eddie will take what he can get. “Besides, makes Wayne happy seeing I have actual friends instead of, you know, buyers.” After you nod in understanding, he points towards the back where his bedroom is. “You can take my room, while I take the ol’ reliable here.” He pats the cushion he's sitting on with a lopsided smile.

Knowing you, Eddie is already expecting an argument about it's his bed, he should be the one to sleep on it, but he could never have that, especially with his uncle's midwestern ideals. Eddie knows Wayne would chew him out if he lets a guest sleep on the couch. When you stay at the Munson's, you sleep on the one and only bed in the house. That's how Wayne was raised, and what was consequently drilled into Eddie's skull when he moved in. While he prepared this rebuttal in his head, your protest never came. 

Eddie looks to see you biting your lip as you look at your feet. He watches you patiently as you work up the nerve to say what you want to say. “Would it be okay if we share the bed?” Eddie almost can't stop himself from grinning, but he manages to keep in his screaming thoughts at the prospect of sharing his bed with a pretty girl like you. On the outside, Eddie does his best to play it cool, but you must have seen his eyes go wide in excitement and took it the wrong way. Waving your hands dismissively, you do your best to remedy the awkward silence. “You don’t have to! I know it’s a weird request, it's just…” Your eyes dim again as you feel the embarrassment creep up your neck. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

Seeing you so emotionally beaten down and afraid makes Eddie feel a kind of sadness he hasn’t felt since he was a kid. Before he became more cynical and realized most people deserve what they have coming for them. But he knows you; your kindness and generosity. There’s a feeling of something heavy sitting in the pit of his stomach and Eddie knows for certain you don’t deserve to feel like this, no matter what the situation could possibly be. The sadness quickly evolves into rage when he remembers this is something your own father did. He may not know all the details, but he knows fathers aren't supposed to leave their children feeling like this. Like a burden. 

Seeing as being around an angry person is probably the last thing you need, Eddie pushes his feelings to the back of his mind for when he might need it. Like the next time he sees your dad’s car sitting in the liquor store parking lot, for example. A crudely spray-painted penis on that dirtbag’s car might be the thing to put a real smile on your face. Even the thought that Eddie would go to jail if he got caught wasn’t enough to deter him. If it’s in the name of giving you the justice you undoubtedly deserve, he’d do it. This town already sees him as a criminal, so it wouldn’t make a difference to him either way. Why not do something bad for someone so good?

He says your name softly to get you to look at him through tear-heavy lashes. Eddie’s unwavering intense gaze is enough to make your hair stand up on end and your throat tighten. He subconsciously tilts his head at the sight of your sad face. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. Alright?” All you can manage is a nod in response, not trusting your own voice. You only hope he can feel your gratitude through it. “Welp,” he stands up from the couch pushing off of his knees. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You follow Eddie to his room where he begins to shake out the blanket he left resting haphazardly on his bed. He motions for you to lie down while he does so. Once you’ve settled on the side closest to the wall, the blanket flutters out one last time to lay mostly flat over you. Eddie quickly settles in bed next to you, doing his best to leave a respectable distance between you both. “Is this okay?” he asks once you’re both settled.

Clutching the blanket that smells overwhelmingly like Eddie, you bury yourself deeper into the pillow under your head. There is a small smile adorning your face as you get comfortable. “Yes. Thank you.” 

Eddie quickly sits up to turn off the lights and for a moment the warm glow from his bedside lamp casts a fitting halo around his mop of messy dark curls. There is a quiet ‘click’ as the room becomes dark and you can hear him shuffle back down under the covers. Eventually, he lets out one last sigh saying, “Sweet dreams,” before relaxing next to you.

His gentle breathing is not enough to get you to fall asleep. Hours after Eddie began his soft snoring, you're still running through the night's events. Where did you go wrong? What could you have done differently? What's wrong with you?

These questions circle through your head to the point you begin to feel a pressing headache at the front of your mind. It was like a brewing storm, with dark clouds and impending rain. No matter how you think of it, you still feel in the wrong somehow. It was something you did to set your dad off. You deserve to be screamed at. The tight prickly feeling creeps up your neck as you do your best to cry quietly. You don't want to wake Eddie up. He's already helped you so much, you don't want to bother him again. You face away from him, towards the wall, foolishly hoping that little distance would protect him from your breakdown.

Unfortunately, the need to breathe and a runny nose is a noisy combination. Eddie blinks once, twice, before realizing that it's you making that pitiful sound. It's a lot of sniffling and quiet whimpers. When he turns and sees you curled up into yourself with shaking breaths, he feels a little panicked. He sits up and places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing gentle circles there. “Hey, hey, hey,” he coos. “It's okay. You're gonna be okay.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, trying to calm you down, but as the words leave his mouth he can't help but frown at them. Telling someone that they are going to be fine later is not really going to help them now, but it's all Eddie has to offer. 

Voice too broken to respond, all you can do is shake your head. Being seen so vulnerable by the boy you like makes you all the more upset. A few stray tears is one thing, but being damn near hysterical with leaking snot is another. If you thought leaving his room would do any good, you might have tried to make a break for it. Instead, you shut your eyes tight, hoping he wouldn’t push you into talking about it, or worse, push you to look at him. 

Seeing as his words of encouragement are falling on ears too sad to believe him, Eddie feels useless. He hates seeing you like this. He wishes he could take it all away and bear it himself. With his last attempt to console you, Eddie steadies his mind in case of your impending rejection. 

The gentle hands on your sides make your breath catch in surprise. They pull you by the waist to rest a little closer before holding you in a loose hug. Is Eddie Munson cuddling you right now? His body heat radiates off of him in a comforting aura, soothing your tensed shoulders. The genuine surprise is enough to make you forget why you were crying, if only for a moment. The origin of his quiet voice makes you realize that pressure on your shoulder is where he is resting his head. He speaks into your shoulder blade, hiding his blushing face there. “I know I can’t make it better, but that’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

The sorrow in his voice is unmistakable, as if he was the one to make you cry. You feel a distant pang of guilt that Eddie feels the need to fix it for you. You don’t want him to worry about you, despite the little voice in your head telling you otherwise. You can’t deny that a part of you enjoys the way you feel loved when he shows his care for you, but you don’t want it at the expense of becoming a burden he feels obligated to bear. However, seeing as you can't form the words to tell him so, you're forced to let it go and just enjoy the feeling of Eddie enveloping you while you release the rest of your pent-up emotions.

Eddie is somewhat perplexed that you aren’t telling him off or pushing him away, but relishes the feeling of you in his arms nonetheless. He breathes in the scent of your laundry detergent, the one that he only associates with you. The little brushing of arms makes him realize how soft you are. It’s the kind of softness that reminds him of his childhood teddy bear. Something precious and sweet. 

He holds you for a while, being there for you as you cry. There are times he feels like he’s about to doze off, but Eddie wills himself to stay awake. Until he’s sure you’re alright, he can't sleep. When your shaking eventually lessens and your breathing has steadied to the same rhythm of his own, he feels you begin to shuffle in his arms. Eddie takes a small movement away, trying his best to give you your space back should you want it. You turn to face him, tears now dried, and stare into his glittering dark brown eyes. You aren’t sure what words you can say that will convey the gratitude you hold for him. The appreciation. The wholehearted love.

With how long you stare, Eddie struggles to read your expression, and can’t help but smile nervously. Is this the part where you tell him to never do that again? “You always make it better.” Your quiet voice is a little hoarse from your crying, but he manages to hear it anyway. It makes his face go warm with pride and his smile all the more genuine. Your eyes trail over Eddie as you do your best to commit the image to memory. As you appreciate every freckle and crease and dimple, your chest swells with adoration for the lovable boy before you. The feeling is all consuming and before you realize it, you lean into the little space separating you from him and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

When you pull away, you see the shock on Eddie's face. His eyes are wide, his lips parted in awe. The seconds feel like minutes when he doesn't make any kind of response. Blood rushes to your face from embarrassment. You must have overstepped his boundaries! What were you thinking?!  “Sorry. I shouldn't ha-” 

Eddie cuts you off with a kiss of his own, his lips pushing into yours with a touch more force. Heart hammering in your chest, your eyes slip closed as you kiss him back. When he feels you begin to move your lips against his, Eddie can't help but smile into it. His breath fans across your cupid's bow as he sighs in satisfaction. Arms reaching for each other beneath the blanket, your hands slide over his bare chest before settling on his shoulders. One of his hands rests on your waist while the other delicately cups your face. Mouths separating with a click, both of you panting, you wonder if Eddie can tell you're blushing as you stare. His grin is all teeth and dimples as he gazes back with adoration in his eyes. “Don't be. You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.”