#I love walking around. If it's a place I like to walk around . Love detroit but come On

[twilightarcade]

1 thing that's fucked up is when you actually make plans 4 yourself and everyone gets all offended . Sorry I wanted to do something by myself lol

[shocymer]

Want me to teach you?

"Starting off as journalism clubs buddies, you never know how your relationship will take turns after he offered to give you a lesson."

Pairing : Yunho x f!reader

Word counts : 2.3k

Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , college AU, gamer yunho, oral (receiving), size kink, big dick! yunho, slightly pussy edging, overstimulation, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

“There’s something between you and her. I mean like you’re in relationship or..?” Wooyoung asked him carefully.

Yunho’s eyes goes widen. He never thought of dating you in the first place. After breaking up with his longtime ex lover, he completely avoided the topic of romance. He’d been dating his ex since high school. But at the certain time they’re in college, she became a campus crush and immediately dumped him.

He let out a soft chuckle in response, “How could that be?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The atmosphere.. ehhm kinda heavy around you two.” Seonghwa suddenly chimed in while his finger moved in circle towards Yunho.

He raised his eyebrow, a thin smile form his lips after ridiculed by them.

“Nah we’re not. We’re just friends, that’s all.”

To be honest, he wasn't that surprise when they asked about it. It all started from two months before. You accidentally took a glance on Yunho’s phone. He’s immersed in Detroit: Become Human walkthrough video while waiting for other faculty journalism club’s member to come.

Then you happened to be walking behind him before taking a seat. “Oh you’re into that game too?”

“I want to give it a try.” He turn at you for a moment before his eyes glued back to the screen. “But I still figure it out whether this one worth it or not.”

You crossed your arms then slightly lean towards him in attempt to get a better view of the video. “Hmm.. It’s a shame if you know most of the plot through this. Like I want you to experience the true ending by your own choices.”

“Wait, you ever played this?” Surprised that you’re into gaming stuff.

“I did, but on PC. I don’t know if there’s any differences if you play it on your console.” You lean away from him.

Now, he’s more interested in you and leaving the video played alone in the background. Distracted by your little fingers fidgeting on the back of your phone unconsciously, as both of you deep in talk. He’s wondering why is it so small and weirdly cute. Then he glanced back to you.

“So you’re not used to play with the controller right?”

You nod at him, “yeah, last time I try it when I was in 7th grade or something. The grip was uncomfortable. Right after that, I decided PC is much more easier.” You paused for a second, “but sometimes I would love to try it again.”

He chuckled seems to know the reasons why. Proceed to clear his throat before he answered you back, “Want me to teach you?”

Deep sighed left from your mouth, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be mad at me the second we’re in.”

“No no, definitely not. I got patience as deep as the ocean. You sure know that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, definitely a saint in your past life.”

He laughed at your remark and how annoyed you’re right now. You smacked his arm, telling him to stop. Not too long, both of you getting ready for the club’s meeting as everyone already gathered in.

You thought he’d be joking. He never brought that idea again after the last conversation with you. He occasionally texted you only about the club’s activity or college stuff. Until a week after, he slide a brand new box of controller towards you.

“Better started now or never.” He slightly tilted his head, pointing to where the box landed.

“Yunho, you don’t need to buy me this. I- like just tell me when you’re-”

“Shhh.. save that nagging for later.” His delicate hand started to unbox it with care. Then he handed it to you.

It’s mostly dominated with white and soft blue colors on the side. Plus the kitty paw shaped the thumb grip, make it seems like a customized controller. You reach it in fascination. That’s super cute. Both of you think the same way, but completely on different matters.

Yunho kept looking at your fingers which is nicely wrapped the controller. His eyes following the direction of your little thumbs that moving uncoordinatedly, mimicking the way you’re gonna use it in game. Then, his gaze turn to your lips, looking at how cute and plump it is.

He shook his head, after that he explained to you about it’s feature, how to turn it on and how to charge it. You listen to him just like in one of your lectures. Remembering everything that he told you while nodding at the same time.

“Thanks Yunho, that’s so cute.” You looked at him in guilty. “I bet this was expensive right?”

“Well, actually not that much. I just want you to use it more if it looks like that.” He flicked your forehead. “This is my own wish. Don’t ever feel bad about it, okay?”

After that day, you spent almost every weekend playing co-op game with him. He patiently guided you from the voice chat. Dealing with how forgetful you are and a lot of complaints about your sore fingers. With that antics of yours, he only let out small chuckle or teasing you even more.

On the weekday, sometimes you met him in the club’s room. Mostly during the meeting or when you do the project. The moment you asked him to check your works, he’ll lean over from your behind and randomly put his hand on top of yours while the other hand is scrolling the mouse. There’s also a moment he covered the shelf corner with his hand when your head nearly bump it or he’ll immediately fetched the things you needed where it’s difficult for you to reach.

You never realize that, but not with your other two friends. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they keep exchange glances across the room whenever Yunho and you act like a new pair of lovers. They’re a hundred percent sure sensing something more than platonic relationship, when the actual truth is not. There’s nothing between you two, yet.

⁠✧

It's 3 days before the exam period. The faculty journalism club already in chaos for past few weeks. They’re divided into two teams. First team is responsible with the faculty website news update, and here you are in the second team handling the semester end magazine. Your leader pushed the deadline earlier hoping the only left to do is printed it out at the end of exam day.

Your tired ass have been proofreading for solid three hours non-stop. Flipping through the revision sheet and going back to the laptop. Luckily you don’t have any class today. All of you agreed to finished it today. But alas, there’s only four of you left, and making it worse the other two need to leave too.

“Shit, I forgot to consult my thesis. I’ll be back at evening!” Seonghwa barging out in hurry. No wonder he’s literally your senior a year above you.

Not too long, Wooyoung following around as he got notification with a sudden class at noon. He’s cursing along the way. Of course all of you haunted with the leader’s wrath, considering how strict he is. You still remembered the looks on his face when the last project failed.

There’s only Yunho and you left alone. Silence along the typing sounds are the only sound that filled the room. At this exact time, most of the clubs room are empty. Either everyone still in the class or diving in the library preparing for the exam.

The work flow with him lasted for more than an hour. He’s occasionally sipping his iced coffee while working on it. He took the editing part, after that passed it on to you. But this time, his hand slipped, nudging the cup of his coffee. He could save it, but not with your pile of revision papers. It scattered all over the floor.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He immediately crouched down as you do the same to collect the papers.

While collecting it in a rush, your fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Your face only a few inches from his side, making him shiver from the feeling of your warm breath against his skin. Then he turn to face you, staring deep into your eyes. Your heartbeat increase rapidly as he turning his hand to hold yours. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your small plumped lips.

When the tip of your noses touched, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You crushed his lips, kissing him hungrily. He pulled you in, till his back hit against the wall only to bring you on top of his lap while the kiss still not broken. He peeled off his denim jacket as the temperature keep raising between you two.

Gasping for some air, you pull out from the kiss. His index finger caress your cheek trailing down to you lips. You open your mouth to let it in wrestling around with your tongue. He let out small groaned at the sight of it. “I always curious how it taste like.” He lean in to you, whispering into your ears, “and that’s incredibly sweet.”

He picked you without a warning, gives you a quick kiss before plopping you down to the couch, then closed the curtains in swift motion.

Now he’s back to you, nibbling the nape of your neck, sucking on it, sometimes sunk his teeth beneath your skin. You’re squirming under him, gripping onto his hair as the sensation wash over you. He looked up to you, searching for your permission to go lower.

You nodded at him. He’s devouring your lips again while his hand pushed up your tight knee-length skirt, revealing wet trace over your panties. His fingers caress your clothed clit, moved in circular motion. You moaned between the kisses, you can feel he’s smirking on top of your lips.

He moved the panties to the side, then dip his finger into your folds. He chuckled, “you’re already this wet hmm?” Then he’s slipping in another finger, makes you gasped at how full it is inside. At first, his fingers moved back and forth slowly, but over time it’s moving faster making squelched noises due to how wet your pussy is.

He's amused by looking at the face you make right now, moaning out his name when you almost at the edge. He’s stopped in the middle of it, pulled out his fingers. “It’s not enough if it just like that.” He's immediately going down to yank out your panties, then sticking his third fingers into you, moving abruptly while his tongue flicking your clit, sucking on it hungrily. You grip onto his hair tighter, only strangle moan left out from your mouth before his another hand tried to cover it. You buckled your hip as you reaching out the orgasm, biting the palm of his hand trying to stifle your moan. He flicked his tongue few times makes your body spasm due to overstimulation. When you chasing down from it, he licked clean your pussy, then going back to kiss you, giving the taste of yours.

He take a step back, unbuttoning his jeans then pulled down the zipper, letting his cock sprung out from his brief. You took a peek on it with your half lidded eyes, still recovering from the last orgasm. It looks swollen, the unbelievable girth with it’s veins pop visibly, and the tip is glistening with the pre cum. He's stroking it for few times before lining it on your entrance. The tip is slowly in, you can feel the pain as it bigger than your thought.

He's leaning down to you, holding your hands, then trailing kisses on your neck hoping you to relaxes. “I’m sorry is it hurting that much?” He’s stroking your hair while looking into your eyes. “Not.. that much.” You answered him in teary eyes. He kisses your forehead then to your eyes. “It’s a still little bit more baby, can you take it?” You nodding at him. When it’s all in, he let it still for a moment so you get used to it. Then he start moving slowly while his hand unbuttoned your shirt, cupping your breast and slightly fondle it.

He thrusting it faster after he hear you moan in pleasure. His hand grip your waist, while the other hand busy teasing your clit. Your pussy tightened at every deep thrust, making him groaned at the feels. His hips moved erratically after pressing his hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge whenever his cock in you completely. Your nails digging in his clothed back as you feel the knot in your stomach. You squirted over him, making a mess on his shirt. He didn’t stop while your walls clenching on his cock, “you felt so good baby.” After few thrusts he filled your cunt, milking his balls empty. He pulled it out, then plopping himself beside you. Both of you breathing heavily while staring at each other. After realizing it, both of you laughing at how messy you’re right now.

⁠✧

“I’m baaack!” Wooyoung slammed the door open, his eyes goes widen at the sight of you two.

“Aren’t you guys tired? You didn’t move an inches since I left.” He saw you typing furiously on your laptop, meanwhile Yunho sorting out the papers beside you.

Yunho turned to him, “actually I need some snacks.” He gets up from his chair, then put his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Before they go, Wooyoung looked at you. “You don’t need anything? Or maybe you need some fresh air, you can go with Yunho instead. I’ll continue the rest.”

“I’m fine.” You paused for a second, “uhm.. well, maybe I want a smoothie.”

“Okay got it!” he gives an okay sign to you, then dragged Yunho along out of the club room. Yunho stopped his step, “wait I think I left something.” He ran back to the clubs room.

When he got there, he whispered something to you, “After this, do you still want me to teach you? My lesson isn’t done yet.” You flinched at his sudden peck on your lips. He smiled cheekily while leaving you speechless alone, squirming on your seat as you feel his juice spilled down over your thigh.

[lovebugism]

could you do some drunk Eddie blurbs or oneshots? Thanks! I love your stuff btw

✶ ┄ DRUNK IN LOVE !

summary: "you're drunk, eds" / "yeah, super drunk. and in the morning, when i'm sober, you’ll still be beautiful… i’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you." pairing: best friend!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 3.8k warnings: talks of alcohol, getting drunk, and taking care of a super drunk eddie! barely proofread so pretend any typos are nonexistent <3 a/n: i'm learning it's next impossible for me to write blurbs. i get an idea for one and boom. it's nearly 4k words. thanks for the request, anon! hope you like it xoxo

( MASTERLIST )

Eddie didn’t realize until he was halfway through his fifth beer, that he probably should’ve stopped at his fourth. 

He’d stumbled upon that finicky little fork in the road at the crux both drinks, a line he was toeing all night between blissfully tipsy and borderline obliterated. You can only really maneuver it if you’re smart about it, and in true Munson fashion, Eddie opted for the exact wrong decision.

It wasn’t like he’d ever prided himself on being a man of self-control. He was gluttonous to a fault, green and greedy at times, especially when there was free alcohol involved.

Eddie had been a grumpy little stick in the mud when you and him first got to Steve’s place. He didn’t feel like partying that night or sharing you with people he could barely stand. They were your friends, after all, not his. He only tolerated the bunch of them because you did. He spent the entire drive lamenting about how illegal it was — to be his best friend and have other people in your life you cared about the same way you cared about him. 

“That’s obviously against the rules,” he joked.

You only scoffed in response. “Obviously.”

Undeterred by his complaints, you drug him halfway across Hawkins with you like a storm cloud on a leash.

When you arrived, he found that it wasn’t a party at all. It was just Steve and Robin drinking together on the couch while Nancy and Jonathan stirred around in the kitchen and scolded Argyle for rifling through all the cabinets.

Music spilled lowly from the radio, a platter of snacks were laid out on the coffee table, and everyone smiled at you when you walked in. It wasn’t nearly as loud or as overwhelming as he’d dreaded it might be on the drive over.

Didn’t mean he was any happier about it, though.

“I don’t know about this,” he cautioned in your ear from where he stood behind your shoulder, seeking a familiar refuge in you once all the greetings were done. “We talked to everyone, can’t we just, like… go? I don’t think I’m gonna have a good time here, babe.”

Babe, he calls you, a nickname that’s left half of Hawkins believing the two of you were really dating. You stopped blushing about it some years ago, when the novelty of it wore off and it ultimately replaced your actual name.

You shrugged, grasping for a reason to make him stay. “Steve said he had a keg.”

The big silver thing next to the kitchen island didn’t catch his eye until then. You peered up at him, finding a sudden sparkle in his gaze. His bushy brows bounced and his pink mouth fell soft agape at the sight of it. Something swelled in his heart then, a distant and boyish happiness. 

“…I’m gonna try.”

He was pretty much a goner after that.

The beer was pretty stellar, but more than anything, the keg kept it cold. Eddie could barely drag himself away from the damn thing — the red solo cup hadn’t left his right hand all night. And when Steve let him handle the music, that was even better… Well, technically, he let you handle the music, but you sifted through his tapes and picked only what you knew Eddie would like — just like you always did.

Any other time, Eddie might’ve asked what the hell King Steve was doing with so many KISS cassettes, but he was already too drunk to think logically about anything by the time “Detroit Rock City” started playing. He stopped caring and let all the beer and music coursing through his system do all the work for him.

And while stumbling for his sixth refill with Robin, he concludes that he is, in fact, completely and utterly and unabashedly drunk. He’s still sober yet, enough to make such an admission to himself, but too far gone now to stop drinking.

He crouches slightly to bring the nozzle to the rim of his cup without much resistance. His tongue pokes through his tingling lips as he pours all of his concentration into aiming the beer into his plastic chalice and not completely toppling over onto the kitchen floor below him.

That’s when he spots you and Steve sitting on the couch, a little too close for his liking.

The brunette boy has his arms sprawled over the back of the sofa like he owns the place (Eddie’s too drink to remember he does, in fact, own the place) and your legs are delicately crossed and turned towards him, too enraptured in whatever conversation you were having to notice that your best friend had run off (you’d been trying to look after him all night, it wasn’t your fault he kept dodging you).

And it wasn’t his place to be jealous, he knew that. You didn’t belong to him. You could do whatever the hell you wanted to.

If he wasn’t so sloshed, he might’ve been able to recall that you don’t have a thing for Steve — that you’ve never had a thing for Steve, because you’ve spent your entire life in love with your best friend.

But you were too chicken shit to tell Eddie and Eddie was too oblivious to see any of it and it left the both of you in a permanent limbo of unsaid feelings.

So much so, that he once encouraged you to conquer the feat of King Steve one night, many moons ago. He thought he’d noticed the two of you being overtly touchy in the back of a dimly lit club.

Eddie was sober enough then to make fun of it all while still feeling every ounce of his misplaced jealousy as he playfully promised you that “you had his blessing to screw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.”

You should’ve known you were screwed when you told him that you didn’t want to screw Steve because “you had your eyes on someone else,” and he completely missed the brave, longing look you shot his way.

Eddie spent the rest of the night pestering you endlessly about your crush, while you just sat there, red hot and embarrassed about the whole thing.

Now he’s the one feeling like a fool, watching his best friend make nice with the dowager king of Hawkins.

Being without you makes the distance feel somehow wider from where stands across the too big house, feeling like a stray puppy everyone adores but never actually choses.

Robin taps him on the shoulder to bring him from his stupor before he can waste the foaming beer rapidly filling his cup, though there was no stopping the drunken war path he goes on after.

You and Steve giggle to yourselves as you watch Nancy twirl drunkenly to the tune of the Joan Jett, louder when Jonathan fights to keep her from stumbling over herself. The boy leans over to you, whispering a joke only you can hear, and smiling when it makes you laugh.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Eddie scolds when he stumbles up to the couch. “What’re you two love birds whisperin’ ‘bout over here, huh?”

The two of you blink up at the boy, surprised by his sudden visit and how much drunker he’d gotten since you spoke to him last.

He’s all flushed out, cheeks glowing red with the alcohol in his system, and slurring something fierce — the kind of drawled out garbles that only sound clear to the one that’s speaking.

“We were talking about you, Eds,” you smile without missing a beat. “Been missin’ you over here.”

Steve nods with a dumb, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah. You’ve been making friends with that keg instead of the rest of us, man—”

“Yeah, right,” the boy scoffs out a laugh with a bitter nod. He less than gracefully squeezes between your legs and the coffee table. “Scooch over, Harrington. Make some room. ’S too damn cuddly over here.”

With no choice but to comply, the two of you part.

“Scooch?” you hear Steve mutter under his breath with a faint laugh that has you giggling too. Eddie’s not drunk enough to miss the glance that both of you share, seemingly having some sort of silent conversation that’s left him, yet again, out of the loop.

He’s got a full on pout on his numbing face when he settles between you and Steve, losing his balance briefly before landing in a clumsy pile between the both of you. The beer in his freshly filled up cup sloshes over the rim and splashes into your lap. The alcohol stains the belly of your t-shirt, leaving it cold and clinging to your skin.

And it’s not as dramatic as the movies make it seem, where a guy spills a drink on a girl and something terribly melodramatic ensues. You weren’t trying to impress anybody, least of all with your outfit — hell, you’d probably stolen it from Eddie himself a lifetime or more ago. You don’t get angry or rush out of the room for a good cry.

Actually, you smile sweetly at him, with the realization that it was time for you and your way-too-drunk-to-function best friend to head home.

Eddie gets all sad about it anyway, though, because to him it really does feel all that dramatic. His face screws up like he’s just done something irreversible. His umber eyes glimmer at you with a particular sadness only a drunk person could possess. 

“Shit, babe… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay, Eds—”

“No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry,” he slurs with the sloppy shake of his head. “Please don’t be mad at me, babe. I didn’t mean to.”

“No one’s mad at you, Eddie,” you affirm with a soft laugh, dabbing at the wet spot of your shirt with the bunch of napkins Jonathan (the only other half-sober person aside from you and Steve) haphazardly hands to you.

“I can give you another shirt, if you want,” Steve offers, already standing to retrieve it for you. “Might be too big but it’s—”

Eddie’s head snaps away from you and to the brunette boy. A cartoon-like anger coats his buzzing features. “Like hell you will, Harrington,” he tries to threaten, though the words come out half-jumbled together. “Won’t have my girl wearin’ your shit, Steven—”

You burn red hot at the new nickname, equal parts embarrassed and delighted as you stand from your position on the sofa. Suddenly eager to escape the situation, you reach for Eddie’s hand. “Alright, Eds. Let’s go.”

He accepts your touch without question, rising on swaying feet and forcing you to keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady.

He’s already forgotten what he just said. He has no idea that your heart’s just done a billion backflips for him. He focuses, instead, on the thought of a new adventure with you. “Ooh. Where we goin’ now?”

“I’m taking you back to the trailer, okay?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, suddenly displeased again. “Yeah, whatever… You wanna spend more time with King Steve, I see what you’re doin’—”

“I’m coming with you, Eds,” you laugh.

It’s like the switch flipped and he’s grinning all sloppy and stupid at you again. He tosses the smug look to the boy standing at his other side. “Suck it, Stevie—”

“Eddie!” you scold.

“You guys can just take the spare bedroom,” Steve offers despite Eddie’s teasing. “I don’t want you driving like this.”

“Oh, how fucking chivalrous,” your best friend grumbles under his breath.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you press with brows furrowed in concern. “I don’t want to, you know, intrude or whatever. I’m good to drive—”

“No, it’s fine. Really. He should probably lie down anyway.”

“Yeah… Okay.”

“You know where it is, right?” he asks you and you nod

Eddie takes great offense to your affirmative answer.

“Wait, why do you know where it is?” he pouts down at you, figuring there’s something dirty hidden in the fact you’ve slept in your friend’s guest bedroom before. You shake your head and opt not to answer as you help him towards the stairs. “Why do you know where it is?”

“—Go upstairs, okay?” you shout over him, trying your best to stay patient. “I’ll check on you in a second.”

He lingers on the first stair and juts out his lip. His pointer fingers trails the intricate carvings in the wood of the banister while his glassy puppy dog eyes glimmer down at you. “…Promise?”

“Yes, Eddie. I promise.”

With that, he makes careful work climbing the stairs, hanging onto the railing for dear life as he goes. You watch attentively, prepared to rush to him if he stumbles, and able to breathe out a sigh of relief when he makes it to the top step. 

You turn away from the hallway of the staircase and back to your friends, who — save for Steve and maybe Jonathan — haven’t yet bothered to acknowledge the situation.

Robin is rifling through Steve’s cabinets for food, Argyle’s at the keg pouring beer into his mouth straight from the nozzle, and Nancy hasn’t stopped dancing the entire time. You’re not even sure if she knows the song.

“I didn’t know you guys were dating,” Stevie remarks with a smile. “No wonder he was being so… like that.”

You shake your head and duck your gaze. “We’re not. Dating, I mean— he’s just, like, super drunk.”

“…Really?”

“Really,” you breathe out a laugh at the way your admission make this face twist in confusion.

“I’ve just— I’ve never heard a drunk person talk that way about someone they didn’t, you know… like.”

A part of you so desperately wants that to be true.

Eddie’s never been particularly shy about calling you babe or sweetheart or honey in front of people — sometimes he did it just to throw them off. But something about him getting jealous over a guy you’ve never liked, calling you his girl to bat the believed ‘affections’ away, has a foreign feeling swirling in your belly.

You force yourself to swallow your hopes down.

“Well, you’ve never met drunk Eddie,” you tell him with a shrug. “The freak’ll say just about anything.”

You make your way up to the guest bedroom and find Eddie slouched at the top step. He looks terribly sad, pouting with his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands on his chin. But he lights up like a christmas tree all over again at the sight of you.

“What are you doing, Eddie? You were supposed to be laying down,” you scold softly.

“I missed you,” he whines, gazing up at you with twinkling, red-rimmed eyes. “And I got lost… And then I forgot how to walk.”

You try your best to keep a straight face as you help him up again, trying to ignore the way your heart thrums like a hummingbird when he leans completely into your side. 

You walk the staggering boy the short distance to Steve’s guest bedroom.

It’s as extravagant as the rest of the house, complete with large windows and expensive furniture and a thousand throw pillows on the freshly made bed. The entire room practically sparkles, there’s not a single crease in the bedsheets; it probably hasn’t been touched since the last time one of you spent the night there.

Eddie flops onto the bed when you urge him to sit down. He makes himself comfortable with ease, legs still hanging over the side as he throws his arms out, melting easily into the newly laundered blankets.

You navigate through the darkness, illuminated only by a subtle moonlight, to the seating area across the room. The newly granted privacy of the guest bedroom allows you to strip off your damp shirt. The wet spot sticks to your skin when you peel it off of you. The feeling makes you grimace. 

You don’t think twice about being in your bra in front of Eddie — he’s not even looking at you now — and besides, he’s seen you in less. You’ve been friends for far too long to care. Being naked in front of each other stops meaning so much after accidentally catching each other changing a half a billion times.

Leaving your shirt in a crumpled pile on the arm of the couch, you make the silent decision to sleep there for the night. Many a bed has been shared between you and Eddie, but he’s going to need all the comfort he can get tonight — the hangover he’ll have tomorrow will feel like hell, no doubt.

You look across the dark room at Eddie and find he hasn’t moved an inch. “Take off your clothes, Eds. You’re not gonna be comfortable sleeping in jeans.”

“Mm,” he groans in the darkness, as though in protest, already half-asleep.

“You’re already gonna feel like shit in the morning, especially if you’re sleeping like that,” you advise with a soft laugh. “Come on, Eds. At least take off your shoes.”

“…Don’t know how,” he murmurs.

You roll your eyes at him, even though he can’t see you, even though you do it all for him anyway. It was second nature to you, taking care of Eddie, and you do it with an ease that makes his drunken little heart swell. 

You start with his shoes, not having to untie them because they’re so loose on his feet. His jeans come next, a far bigger struggle because you do it with little help from the boy in the bed. His belt is strangely tricky and he claims his body feels too heavy to lift his hips for you.

But what he lacks in assistance, he makes up for in cheeky one-liners — “At least, take me out to dinner first, babe” and “If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you coulda just said" to name a few.

Once he’s clad in nothing but his Hellfire t-shirt, R2D2 patterned underwear, and hand-me-down socks that barely fit him, you maneuver him so he’s lying properly in bed.

You toss away all the pillows that are more for decoration than anything else, pull the covers down and over his body, and Eddie doesn’t do a single damn thing but watch. 

He couldn’t do anything even if he wanted to because his heart is so far in his throat he can’t breathe. 

You’re so unfamiliarly soft with him — sweet in your way than anyone will ever be to him in his lifetime, than anyone will ever be to anyone else.

The love you bathe him in half-sobers him and tosses him into a spiral of self-hatred. Why did it take getting drunk at Steve’s place to realize he’s been so head over heels for you he hasn’t stood up straight in years?

Drunken words sit impatiently on his tongue. He lacks the self-control to keep the hidden.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles tiredly.

Your hands almost immediately still where they bunch the covers up at his chest. Your eyes dart to his face and it takes everything in you not to duck away all over again, when you see the way he’s looking at you. 

Eddie looks so soft, basked in a soft moonlight streaming in through parted sheer curtains.

His brown eyes twinkle with stars of their own. He gazes up at you like you put them there.

He doesn’t miss the shock that coats your features. Your eyes widen in surprise of his words at first, before your brows furrow and you shake your head to yourself in denial — like you’re not deserving of them. Like you’re not standing over him in your baggy jeans and five-year-old cotton bra after he spilt his beer all over you, taking care of him because he’s too drunk to take care of himself, doting on him like it’s second nature to you.

As far as Eddie’s concerned, there’s never been a sight more beautiful than this one.

“Stop,” you manage a laugh, still swallowing down that glimmer of hope that lingers on the back of your tongue. “You’re drunk, Eds.”

“Yeah. Super drunk,” he nods unabashedly. A distant smile hints at the corner of his lips as he gazes up at you like he’s trying to commit your features to memory — the angle of your nose, the shape of your jaw, the softness of your lips, and the way you’re looking down at him like you’re wondering if he’s real or not. “And in the morning, when I’m sober, you’ll still be beautiful… I’m just gonna be too chicken shit to tell you.”

You never thought Eddie would say something like this — not something so profound it makes your heart stop and especially not to you. You always dreamed that he might. And you had nightmares that it wouldn’t. That he would utter them to someone who wasn’t you.

But here he is now, loving on you and calling you pretty and hating himself for not being able to tell you that, and you don’t know what to do.

“…Okay,” is all you can say in response, nodding your head like an idiot. You force yourself to move on quickly, focusing instead on tucking him further into the unfamiliar bed.

It’s easier than concentrating on your racing heart that ticks like a time bomb seconds away from going off.

“Thanks for taking care of me, babe,” he murmurs quietly, blinking slow and heavy up at you. “I’m sorry… I know I don’t deserve it—”

“I’ll take care of you forever, Eds. You know that,” you interject without thinking. “And you don’t ever have to apologize to me.”

Eddie lets your words settle over him like the cozy blanket you cover him with. They bathe him like warm water, prickle his skin like they’re cleansing him.

The intent behind them means more than he could ever comprehend, half-drunk or sober still.

He rises abruptly, disrupting the cocoon you’d just tucked him into, as he works with disoriented hands to peel off his shirt. “What are you doing, Eds?” he hears you laugh when his head and arms get caught in the fabric.

You help him out of it anyway, tugging the cotton over him and gaping at him when he hands the bunched up t-shirt over to you.

“Here,” he offers like you’re supposed to know what to do with it.

“…What?”

“Want you to wear it… And to go downstairs so Steve will see you in it.”

You roll your eyes though a smile plasters itself on your mouth. You slip the thing over your head and pretend it's just to appease him. It isn’t the first time you’ve worn something of his, but this time feels so much different. 

“Better?” you tease.

Eddie nods with a childlike happiness.

You’ve always been his, in your own special way, but wearing his shirt? It’s like you’re waving a big, brightly-colored flag — a lit up I’m with stupid sign with a flashing arrow pointed right at him. It makes him grin like an idiot.

“Now, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk in the morning. When you’re so hungover you wanna die,” you joke, still perched at his bedside.

Before you rise, you lean over and press a quick peck to the tip of his warm nose. 

You want to do more than that, so much more than that, but you know that he’s still half-drunk — and that he might not mean a single word of this come sunrise.

You’ll revel in this softness now, either way it goes.

“And, for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful too.”

[calummss]

Baby baby | Marshall Mathers

masterlist

summary: you find out your pregnant and tell marshall

pairing: fem! reader x 90s marshall mathers/eminem

words: 880

Positive

As hard as that slap from reality was, it was the only positive thing in your life. You were young, working a part-time job to finance college. Marshall worked many jobs to provide income but it simply wasn’t enough. You could hardly keep the both of you afloat. And now a baby? Where would that money come from? How would you be able to support yourself?

Your chest tightened as you held the test in your hands, the tremors making it hard to read the letters. Ringing in your ears increased the longer you shut out the world. Picking the skin of your lips leaving you with the taste of copper, you crammed the test into your pocket, stuffing the rest of the trash away and walked to the entrance of your parent’s house, grabbing your coat and boots as well as a hat and scarf to combat the harsh Detroit winter. Walking along the streets that were covered in white frost, baby names inspired by winter popped into your mind. All you could think about was the baby. Every person you encountered: baby. Every leaf: baby. It was all you could think about.

Arriving at the restaurant Marshall was currently working at, you walked past the main entrance towards the back entrance, surrounded by trash bags leaning against trash containers. You banged your fist against the door to be sure you’d be heard, your warm breath colliding with the cold air of Detroit, constant shivers trying to keep you from freezing.

The door opened with a powerful pull, DeShaum standing in front of you with a surprised smile. ‘Y/n, what are you doin’ here?’

‘Em here?’

‘No, hello?’ He crossed his arms, his playfulness obvious.

‘Sorry, Shaun, I’m just really fucking stressed right now and I feel like my heart’s gonna drop out of my ass.’ You rambled barely taking time to breathe. ‘I love you but I need to speak to him right now.’

‘I’ll get him.’ He turned around and walked away with only his voice to be heard, ‘Yo, where’s Slim? His girl’s ‘ere!’

‘Thank you.’ You returned the smile, balling your hands in your coat, your legs colliding together as you took steps to keep you moving and your body warm.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Marshall arrived at the door with his apron around his neck, puzzled as to why you suddenly showed up at his workplace. ‘Boss said I got 15.’

‘Can we go somewhere more private,’ you glanced around the alley, ‘and somewhere warm.’

‘Yeah of course,’ He pulled you into the building, walking you past the kitchen and staff to a break room that was empty. ‘What’s wrong witchu? You don’t look well. You’re pale and look like your about to throw up.’

You stayed quiet, unable to say anything. Your heart was racing, your mind racing with thoughts so fast you were unable to comprehend most of them. The only thing you could do was cry. You stared at Marshall whose worry protruded from his eyes, eyebrows knitted at his hands were placed on both your shoulders. Tears started to well. You tried biting your lip but it was no use. Tears started to fall.

‘Hey, hey what’s wrong?’ Marshall pulled you into his embrace, holding you so tight you could feel the pressure relieve some tension. ‘Watchu crying about?’

‘I. Don’t know.’ You sniffed, wiping away your tears that never stop. ‘I’m scared,’

‘Scared of what, baby?’

‘Em,’ you glanced at him, taking a second to compose yourself, ‘I’m pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘I’m pregnant. I took the test.’ You gave him the test so he could see for himself.

‘What?’

‘It happens when two people constantly have sex.’

‘I’m not fucking stupid, Y/n,’

‘Sorry,’ you sniffed again, your nose blocked, ‘I’m just on edge. I can’t think straight.’ You tried claiming yourself with a deep breath but ended up shaky as your nerves jumped all over the place.

‘Hey, hey,’ Marshall cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. Puffy lids, wide pupils and doe eyes, ready to surrender to the stress that had been planted on you. ‘We’re gonna figure this shit out okay? If you wanna keep it, we keep it. If not then not.’ He nodded. ‘And if we end up eating pasta with ketchup for years to keep us goin’ and give our baby the things we didn’t have. We will be able to do this shit, okay?’

‘Okay,’ you forced a smile, not fully ready to accept reality. ‘Okay.’

‘You know whatchu gonna do?’

‘No not yet. I—I need time to think.’

‘Y/n, listen to me okay,’ his thumbs rubbed against the apples of your cheeks. ‘You’re gonna go straight home. No staying in the cold. Sit down, make yourself a cup of tea and try to relax okay? I’ma come back as soon as I’m done and then we’re gonna talk this through properly.’

‘Okay,’ quiet sniff. ‘I’ll do that.’

‘Good.’ His face came closer, ‘Stay safe baby.’ He pressed his lips against yours. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Wiping your nose you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek and headed out of the back entrance, passing Proof as his gaze lingered on you. What are you going to do?

[starry-hughes]

fake holiday date (luke hughes)

day 16 of star’s ficmas

luke hughes x reader

Luke hadn’t heard from you since he left for Tampa. When he left for Tampa for the Frozen Four, he decided to break up with you. It was a hard decision but he didn’t want it hard on you. But he was coming home to Michigan for the holidays and he got a text from you.

“I need help.”

Luke Hughes was still in love with you. He immediately called upon seeing your text. “Hello?” you answered. Your stomach was a pit of nerves. Even though you texted him, you still felt sick when he called. “Are you okay?” he panicked. “I need a date.”

He should have hung up but you were scrambling words together. “Luke, wait, please hear me out. I kinda never told my family we ended things, and they are expecting you at Christmas. Please, just like two hours.”

Luke was silent. He didn’t know what to say. You were still telling your family he was still your boyfriend? “Two hours. Just two hours,” Luke mumbled.

Luke and you were a good couple. Envied by friends, called mom and dad by his roommates, always together. You loved Luke and he loved you, it was the right person at the wrong time. Luke was your first love, the first boy you brought home.

He sat outside your house, in his car, wearing a red sweater. He told his parents and brothers he was seeing his friends. He texted you a simple “here.”

You exited the house and Luke sucked in a breath. You were still beautiful. Luke walked up, a secret gift folded in his pocket. “Thank you,” you whispered and leaned up and kissed his cheek. You pulled him into the house and he was met with the familiar warmth of your house. Memories of him and you on the couch watching movies or eating dinners with your family.

“Luke!” your mother greeted, wiping her hands on her apron. “Honey it’s been so long, I’m so sad (Y/N) didn’t bring you by the whole summer, she said you were training but was always seeing you.” Luke nodded and smiled. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, missed you guys,” Luke lied.

You had coached Luke, saying he was so busy with training and that you still saw him over the summer, saying that you even went with the boys to see the game in Detroit. “How’s the season going?” your dad questioned. Your parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents, and you and Luke eventually sat at the table for dinner.

Luke didn’t need to do it, but he placed his hand on your thigh, the two of you were a perfect couple. Your family all bought the act. After dinner, Luke even helped clean up before you dragged him up to your bedroom.

It was the same as the last time he saw it. Even your pictures of you and him still were hanging, probably to further your lie. Your stuffed animal sat on your bed and he smiled. “Thank you for coming, I didn’t think you’d actually answer my text.”

“I wanted to get away from Jack and Quinn anyway, they were annoying me,” Luke joked. “Why didn’t you ever tell your family?” Luke asked. You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t want to tell them, they were disappointed when I changed my major. I didn’t want to tell them I lost my boyfriend too.”

He frowned. “I haven't dated anyone since you. My parents just think I was with you during the summer but I was really just driving around town or window shopping at stores,” you admitted. Luke opened his mouth to say something but shut it when his phone buzzed. He had been gone for three hours, his brothers and parents were wondering where he had gone. “I have to go,” Luke swallowed.

You walked him out, watching with a smile as he bid everyone a goodbye and walked him out to his car. “I hope your family is well and Jersey treats you well,” you whispered. “Have a good Christmas (Y/N).”

If Luke and you were still dating, he would have kissed you. You would have seen his parents for Christmas, messed with Quinn and Jack, it would have been all fine. “Bye Luke.”

You snuck past your family, wanting to go cry in your room. You missed Luke. You entered your childhood bedroom, but there was something on your bed. It was a folded piece of paper, from Luke. You slowly unfolded it. A plane ticket to New Jersey.

[hazybisou]

❛ OH BABY, BABY ❜

🎧 🎸 every single little moment, every single little sunshine

summary - when walking the streets of Michigan, you never know what to expect. maybe that’s why y/n never expected for a little boy to literally run into her with his fine ass cute father behind him.

pairing - f!reader x single dad!quinn hughes

side note - dad quinn 😻😻 that’s all i got to say as of now. my mans so fine 😍😍 (this takes place during the summer so about right now)

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

the slight breeze blew through her hair as she hugged her zip up closer to her body and grabbing the hood, putting it on over her head slightly. y/n had decided the weather was warm but windy enough to go outside and take a walk and get some fresh air. she had the day off from her job as a social media photographer for the Detroit Tigers.

y/n loved her job. she knew the second she saw her sister take part in sports photography that’s what she wanted to do. she took an internship during her junior year at the University of Michigan and once she had graduated, she had applied for the job as one of the photographers for the Detroit Tigers. two days after her interview, she had gotten an email form the organization saying she had gotten the job. since then she had been working with the MLB organization.

the young woman had just turned the corner and made her way into a local park in Michigan. her hand made its way into her pocket and pulled her phone out. she grabbed her earphones out of the other and connected them to her phone before placing them in her ears. she quickly swiped and clicked on spotify before she began to hear the lyrics to ‘Stay Ready’ by Jhene Aiko as she slid her phone into her pocket once again.

the music seemed to block out the noises of the children’s laughter and giggling as they slid down the slide or swung on the swing, being pushed by their parents or siblings or other children. the noise of the cars passing by and their honking were muffled.

she began to think about her life here in Michigan and if she were to stay her the rest of her life. find the one, have kids, grow old. the idea seemed nice in her head but she knew things may never go her way as god had other plans for her.

y/n suddenly felt something hit her leg. she heard a little ‘oof’ and a thud and looked down to see a little boy with brown, wavy hair on the ground. she took her earphones out and placed them in her pocket where her phone was.

she kneeled down to the little boys height and helped him get up. “are you okay?” her eyes scanned his small figure to check for any injures.

“i sorry.” the little voice made her melt. she always had a soft spot for kids. “i didn’t mean to.”

y/n smiled. “i know you didn’t, it’s okay.” she looked around for his father or mother or anyone who might’ve known him. “where your mom?”

he shrugged.

“your dad?” she tried and the boy turned around and pointed towards the way he came from.

“he’s over there.” he told y/n and she looked behind him to see a man with a slight subtle and neatly styled hair looking around frantically.

he was cute.

“what’s your name?” she asked the little boy who looked up at her with big doe eyes.

“roan.” he stated proudly with a grin on his face. “what’s yours?”

her smile turned into a small laugh. “y/n.”

she saw the little boys hand extend. she placed her hand in his and he placed a quick kiss to it and let out a ‘mwah’ as he did so.

“aw how cute.” y/n cooed as she let out a small giggle.

roan leaned in forward. “daddy says when’s pretty girl is around, to kiss her hand when you meet her.” he explained. “you a pretty girl.”

“your dad seems like a wonderful person.”

roan nodded. “he is.”

she looked at him and finally wondered if his father had figured out he was over here with her. her question was answered when she heard the padding of feet get closer but slow down as they neared. she saw the legs of a person behind roan and looked up to find the man she saw earlier looking down at his son. he kneeled down to be eye level with roan.

“roan, i thought i told you to stay next to me.” the man scolded the little boy who looked up at the man while squinting his eyes at the sun.

“i sorry daddy. but i wanted to go play! you promised.” roan exclaimed with his arms up.

quinn shook his head. “don’t do that again, okay? you scared me.”

“ok.” roan whispered as he wrapped his arms around his dad. quinn took the little boy into his arms and y/n watched with adoration in her eyes as she stood up.

the pair pulled away and quinn stood up while roan went and stood by y/n’s side, grabbing her hand and holding it. “daddy i made a friend!” he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice.

quinn looked down towards her. holy was she beautiful. her smile was warm and gave him a welcoming feeling. he never experienced that from anyone other than his own mother.

“hi, i’m y/n!” she held her hand out for quinn to shake with a smile on her face.

he took it in his own and shook it slightly. “quinn.” he let go of it and watched as she put it down. “it’s nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.” she looked down at roan and shook their hands that were still held together . “roan here happened to run into me.”

“did he now?” quinn looked at the young boy who smiled sheepishly. “well i hope he said sorry.”

roan just nodded his head. “ i did. like you told me to.”

y/n laughed. “he was such a gentleman.” she looked at quinn. “roan’s a sweet boy.”

quinn’s eyes softened. “i’m guessing i raised him right if he was called a gentleman by a pretty lady like yourself.” the words left his mouth before he could even stop them. “i didn’t mean it like that, well like i did, but not like that. you’re very pretty-”

y/n let out a small chuckle. “it’s ok, i know what you meant.” she stood there for a second. “you’re pretty hot, you know that?”

quinn felt himself blush and turn red. “oh, um, thank you.” he looked down at his watch and his eyes widened as he noticed he would be late to dinner with his family if he didn’t leave now. “oh i am very sorry but we have to go and get ready.” quinn reached down and picked roan up before settled him on his hip. “do you think i can i get your number?”

“no, i’m sorry.”

quinn’s smiled faltered slightly. “oh it’s fine-”

“but can i get yours before i go?” y/n asked.

“oh, of course. uhh, can i-” y/n pulled her phone out and opened to her contacts before clicking on the add sign. quinn smiled and typed in his number. “here you go.”

“i’ll see you around then.” y/n said and she looked at roan. “bye roan! it was very nice meeting you.”

roan leaned forward in his fathers arm, wrapping his own arms around y/n and she did the same back, “bye bye!” he turned his head and placed a open mouthed kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘mwah’.

“cute kid.” y/n told quinn as she saved quinn’s number and put her phone away in her pocket. “bye quinn.”

“goodbye y/n.”

she turned around and began walking back to her apartment with quinn and roan on her mind. he was very attractive.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

it was 10:13 pm and quinn has just put roan to sleep in his bed after coming back to the lake house from dinner with his family. he walked back quietly to his own room which next to roan’s and got into bed, pulling the sheets over his body. he grabbed his phone, in hopes he would get a text from a certain person. with no luck he sighed and put his phone on his nightstand, ready to drift off to sleep.

*ding*

*ding*

he grabbed his phone and saw an unknown number had sent him a text. he opened it and quickly saw who it was.

*** *** ****

though i forgot abt you or what?

roan’s daddy

just a little bit

y/n 💞

well goodnight quinn

send my love to roan

roan’s daddy

what abt me??!

y/n 💞

🫢🫢

maybe later

roan’s daddy

goodnight y/n

quinn turned off his phone and placed it where it was previously on his nightstand before he turned around and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with y/n on his mind.

✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫ ✫

turned out way better then expected. anywyas daddy quinn got me feeling some type of way. isn’t roan the sweetest little boy?? ☺️☺️💕💕 first post ever since my last one

[aflame4goinghome]

Illicit Affairs

d.r.w x reader

chapter i

Summary: There’s no harm in having a one-night stand with a captivating musician at a jazz club the weekend before the fall semester, right? Usually that would be the case, but this time, it was very different. After finding out what he does for a living, your entire world is turned upside down, sending you head first into a relationship that even you might not be able to handle. Good luck.

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: THIS STORY CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!! alcohol, swearing, flirting, SMUT: fingering, touching, sexually-implicit language, oral sex (m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex, hairpulling, semi-public sex, praise kink if you squint, hint of dom/sub dynamic

A/N: This story is in collaboration with my wonderful, talented friends @gretavanstink & @childinthegardenn!! Go give them a follow and give @gretavanstink’s fics some love! We’re so excited to share this journey with you all, we can’t wait for you to find out what’s next. Enjoy! Love ya!

Listen to the official playlist on Spotify here!

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

“Is this it here?” you ask, looking over at Rose in your passenger seat as you slow down in front of the apartment building. She looks down at her phone to check the GPS then nods her head.

“Looks like it… I think I see a spot there in the front,” she answers. You quickly pull into the parking spot and then put the car in park. “Here we are!” you say, smiling at Rose before turning the car off, opening your door, and stepping out onto the street.

The neighborhood seemed quiet and calm, for it being so close to downtown Detroit. You feel pleasantly surprised as you take a look around. You walk around to the trunk of your car, pressing down the button and lifting the hatch. Your apartment came mostly furnished, so you and Rose luckily didn’t have to bring much besides your clothes and general necessities.

You’ve known your best friend Rose since the two of you were 11 years old, when your elementary schools merged to become one big middle school. You were placed in the same homeroom and you became fast friends, having a lot in common. You’ve been inseparable ever since, leaving your small town in northern Michigan to move to Detroit for college together. 

Going into your third year at Wayne State University in midtown Detroit, you both found an apartment together off campus. The first day of class is in two days, giving you some time to get settled in at your new place before getting thrown into the busyness of the semester.

Grabbing your suitcases, you and Rose head up into your new apartment. You buzz the front door to the lobby, head inside, and gather your keys from the leasing office before taking the elevator up to the sixth floor. With an ecstatic smile on your face, you finally turn the key to open the front door and walk inside. 

It’s a modest place, not too big or too small. There’s a large window in the living area, giving you a view of the rest of the neighborhood, since you were on the sixth floor. There are two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and an in-unit washer/dryer, which you’re eternally grateful for. This was the most room you’ve ever had to yourself since you spent your first two years of university living on campus in the dorms. 

The two of you take a short look around the apartment together before going back downstairs to grab the rest of your things, then branch off into your own bedrooms to begin unpacking. The room already had a full-sized bed, a desk, and a tall dresser. There was a lot of closet space as well, which is a rare find in the city. 

You start by first unpacking your trusty record player, which you bring everywhere you go. Gifted to you by your grandfather for your 16th birthday, you’ve had it in your bedroom and have been adding to your collection ever since. You set it up on the top of your dresser, connect the speakers, and then plug it into the outlet below. You then uncover your record crate and pull out your favorite album of the month: The Queen Is Dead by the Smiths. You carefully remove the record from its protective sleeve, place it on the turntable, bring the needle to the edge of the record, and put it down.

As the music begins to play softly through the speakers, you turn around to open up your suitcase and start unpacking your clothes. You spend about half an hour putting your clothes away in the drawers and hanging some items up in the closet. Then, you go to make your bed, breaking out the new sheets and comforter set you just bought. After making the bed, you attach a handful of small adhesive hooks along the top of the wall behind your bed and hang a strand of lights to add some warm lighting to your space. 

Finally, you pick up your box full of books and bring it to the living room. The apartment came with a large wooden bookcase along one of the side walls, across from the couch and next to the cabinet that the TV rests on. You struggle to carry the box, practically slamming it onto the coffee table when you finally reach the living room. 

Admittedly, you brought way too many books with you— that box felt like it weighed at least 50 pounds. But as a philosophy major, reading is pretty much all you do. Despite that, it’s just a hobby that you particularly enjoy. You start by taking out all of your philosophy books and placing them on the middle shelf– Plato’s The Republic, Epictetus’ Discourses, Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, and many more. Then, on the top shelf, some of your favorite reads– your Shakespeare Complete Collection, The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Great Gatsby, Little Women, Jane Eyre. You left the bottom shelf for whatever Rose might want to add, but you know that it will likely end up full of trinkets rather than books.

As you finish straightening up the living room, Rose walks out and sits down on the couch. “Ugh, moving sucks,” she laments, throwing her head back with a groan. You sit down next to her, throwing your arm around her and putting your head down on her shoulder.

“I know, right? At least we’re all finished now, though,” you say. 

“I’m hungry,” she says, “Wanna go get some pizza?” Your lips quickly turn up into a smile.

“Is that even a question you have to ask?” you reply, standing up from the couch and offering her your hand to help her up. You both retreat to your separate rooms to get ready to go out before going to eat.

Detroit in the summer can sometimes be brutal in the daytime, but at night, it can get pretty cold. You decide on a black cropped v-neck top and throw on a flannel just in case you get cold, pairing it with a pair of ripped denim jeans and your Converse. You take the top half of your hair and pull it back, leaving some strands out in the front. You decide to put on a bit of base makeup, but nothing too detailed. 

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

The two of you agree to go to your favorite pizza place downtown to eat dinner, so you grab your car keys and head out the door. It’s only about a ten-minute drive, so you get there rather quickly. The sun is setting now since it’s a bit past 8 p.m., and the view as you drive toward the Detroit River is like no other. You finally arrive at the restaurant and sit down to eat, feeling practically starving at this point. This really was your absolute favorite restaurant in the city. To you, there was nothing quite like Detroit-style pizza. It felt like home to you, and was exactly the comfort meal you needed right now. 

After a delicious and much-needed meal, you and Rose exit the pizza place, turning the corner and walking toward where you parked the car. It’s dark outside now, and as you walk to your car, you’re nearly blinded by the lights of what seems to be a neon sign. It read “Cliff Bell’s” and there was a standing sign on the ground that said “Runway Blues Combo, August 24th, 9-11:30 p.m.” You can hear the distant sound of a saxophone and other instruments from inside, filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. You check your watch, which reads 9:25 p.m. 

“Come on, we have to go in!” you exclaim, pulling Rose by the arm to enter the bar. You show the bouncer your IDs then head over to the bar, waiting in the large crowd to order a drink. You look over at the band on the stage at the back of the bar, somewhat recognizing the song they were playing– Basie, you think. The bartender finally turns to you and asks for your order, so you order a vodka cranberry, wait for Rose to get her drink, and then you both go toward the stage to see and hear the band better without the big crowd. 

As you get closer to the stage, your eyes immediately fall on the drummer. At first, it’s the audacity to wear sunglasses inside that draws your attention– rose-tinted lenses with a gold frame. Then, you admire his shoulder-length, dark curls, bouncing along to the rhythm of the song. Finally, you notice the way the muscles in his forearms contract as he plays, his veins tightening as he hits the snare drum during a particular drum fill. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to sit right above his elbow, showing just enough of his arms to leave you wanting more. He has most of the buttons undone, only leaving a few buttoned at the bottom, accentuating the dark hair on his chest.

For most of the set, his eyes are often closed– he seems to be concentrated on the music, like he’s feeling it flow through him and letting his soul take control. You’d be lying if you said he didn’t intrigue you, he’s ridiculously attractive and seems to be incredibly talented. At one point during the set, though, his eyes open and seem to be drawn right to you. You convince yourself that the eye contact was just a coincidence and that he was just finding a spot in the room to lock his eyes on, but when he suddenly gives a distinct wink in your direction, you know that it wasn’t just a coincidence. He saw you. 

You try your best to fight off the blush that is starting to populate your cheeks, not wanting to show how much it affected you. Luckily, the room is darkly lit and crowded, so you hope that it will go unnoticed. You can’t deny the butterflies in your stomach, and how good it felt to know that his eyes were on you. 

You excuse yourself, leaving Rose up front to save your spot as you go to get yourself another drink. Rose agreed to drive home, not feeling like drinking much tonight, so you decide to allow yourself to have some more to drink. After the bartender hands you your drink, you decide to stay there to finish it, hoping to get another soon after to add to your buzz and hopefully quell the nervous feelings you had inside over this mysterious drummer. 

You’ve only had about half of your next drink when you hear someone on stage say that the band is going to take a brief intermission. Soon after, you’re taking a sip of your drink and suddenly feel a tall presence to your right at the bar. You look over to see that it’s none other than the band’s drummer. When he catches your eye, he smiles at you for a moment before turning back to the bartender. 

“Hey, man. Can I get an old fashioned?” he asks, then looks back over to you. He looks down at your near-empty glass, then back up to meet your eyes as he says, “And another of whatever she’s having.”  He flashes you another smile as he sees the shade of pink start to cover your cheeks, sitting down on the stool next to you. The bartender hands you both your drinks and then walks off to help other customers.

“Saw you there in the front. Did you enjoy the set?” he asks as he removes his sunglasses, places them on the bar, then takes a sip of his drink. 

“Oh, it was great! It’s been a while since I’ve heard live jazz, you guys are phenomenal,” you answer, smiling shyly as you take a sip of your drink, looking up at him next to you. Now that you were up close and personal with him, you couldn’t help but notice how tall he was– at least two heads taller than you were, you thought. And a little older than you had placed him when you saw him on stage. From far away you had guessed maybe his early to mid-twenties, but up close you wagered closer to thirty.

“Glad to hear that. What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks, leaning his arm on the bar as he turns his body toward you. “Y/N,” you answer, blushing slightly at the nickname. 

“Y/N. Beautiful,” he says, his lips turning upward into a small smile. “Daniel.” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, and places a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

“It’s not often that we see gorgeous girls like you in here, Y/N…” he says, leaning down a bit to talk directly into your ear. You assume that it’s due to the volume of the room, but then he takes you by surprise. “It’s even less often that I see a gorgeous girl undress me with her eyes while I’m on stage, like you just did back there.” You gulp quietly, completely taken aback by his direct words. He wasn’t wrong, you were attracted to him and certainly made no effort to hide it. 

“Oh, I-” you start, but end up trailing off before he interrupts. 

“Did you think you got away with it?” Daniel asks, smirking as his right hand reaches over to trail his fingers along your forearm, which is resting on the bar. His lips are practically touching your ear now, sending a shiver down your spine. “I noticed… Been thinkin’ about you ever since.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” you say, in almost a whisper, so much so that it was quite possible that he couldn’t hear it, but he did. You allow your hand to ghost softly along his wrist. Your fingers find the thin gold chain around his wrist as you look up to meet his gaze, his face is so close now that your noses are practically touching. 

“Yeah?” he says. You take a deep breath, looking up at him as you watch him lick his lips. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ about…” You could already feel your arousal start to pool between your legs, the anticipation making it feel like your heart could stop at any moment. You swallow hard as you try to answer him.

“I was thinking about how strong your arms looked,” you answer, trying to feign confidence despite how intimidating his aura felt. “Watching you play the drums and seeing your muscles flexing like that through your shirt… It was really hot.” He smirks, clearly pleased by your answer, and lowers his lips to your ear once again. You can feel his breath on your ear as he continues.

“Was it?” he asks teasingly. You feel his lips finally connect with your skin as he places a soft, lingering kiss on your neck, right below your ear. “Tell me what else.” Your breath hitches as his lips descend slowly down your neck. 

“I thought about what the rest of you might look like under that shirt,” you say, leaning your head back slightly as he sucks right on the sensitive part of your neck.

“All you had to do was ask, baby…” he says, kissing his way back up to your ear.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask, your confidence starting to shine through. He smiles as he whispers into your ear.

“Thought about how good your tits look in that tight shirt,” he says as he wraps his arms around your back, holding you close. “Thought about how I wanted you to only look at me and no one else…” He sucks at the skin below your ear, causing you to let out a quiet whimper only he can hear.

“I’m only looking at you, Daniel,” you say, turning to look at him. His lips turn upward into a wicked smile.

“You wanna go somewhere a bit quieter, baby?” he whispers, softly brushing his nose against yours, moving his lips even closer. Your breath feels like it’s been taken out of your chest, but you don’t have time to waste. You quickly nod and he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the back hallway that leads backstage. 

Once you round the corner of the hallway and are out of sight from the rest of the bar, Daniel stops you, pushing your back against the wall as his lips race to meet yours. He captures your lips in his as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His kiss is hurried and rough, something that you weren’t used to but definitely welcomed. The feeling of his body against yours was already making you lightheaded, and the alcohol in your system certainly wasn’t helping matters.

Keeping his lips on yours, he pulls your back off the wall, walking over to the one-stall bathroom only a few feet away. He removes one of his hands from you to quickly open the door, taking you both past it and letting it close behind him. 

He backs you against the sink and your ass hits the hard porcelain, causing you to wince and drop your purse on the floor. He takes his lips off of you for a moment and says, “The lock on this door doesn’t work.” His lips travel along your jawline and then down your neck. He continues, “But I bet you don’t care about that, do you, sweetheart?”

“I-” you begin but are quickly cut off as he pulls your v-neck to the side, his teeth dragging against the skin over your collarbone. A gasp escapes you and you tangle your fingers in his curls, every touch of his lips to your skin sending electricity shooting through you.

“In fact, I’m sure you don’t,” he says against your skin, his breath warm and tinged with whiskey. His fingers slip under the strap of your bra, lifting the elastic up and letting it snap back against your skin. He flicks his gaze up to meet yours, finding you staring at him wide eyed, and he smirks as he tugs your bra down, lips dropping back down to suck an already deepening purple mark just below where your shirt lays.

You’re grateful for the sink behind you, holding up your body, as you feel how weak your knees are. You feel like a fawn who has found herself face to face with a hunter in the woods and every word he utters, every touch he places on you, adds to the growing arousal between your legs. You don’t find yourself speechless often, but now is one of those times.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Daniel asks, noticing how your knees wobbled just slightly, and lifts his head to look at you again, his hips pinning you firmly to the sink. You can feel him, long and hard, against your abdomen, the thought sending tingles through your body.

“Maybe you need a rest,” he smirks, stepping back from you and leaning against the wall next to the door. “On your knees.”

Your hands grip the sides of the sink as you stare at him with wide eyes, hesitating to let go for fear that your legs would give out from under you. Slowly, you lower yourself to the ground in front of him, letting your hands rest in your lap and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Daniel looks down at you intensely, his gaze feeling like fire, and brings his hand down to your face. He drags his thumb over your cheekbone, down the side of your face, along your jaw, and finally stops at your lips. Placing his thumb on your bottom lip, he gently pulls down, tilting his chin up slightly and looking down his nose at you.

“Open,” he growls, waiting a moment for you to do as he says. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly dry, and let your mouth fall open, much to Daniel’s pleasure. “Good girl.”

His thumb moves from your bottom lip to your tongue and you close your lips around it, your tongue swirling around it. He hums, pleased, and pulls his thumb from your mouth with a pop.

“Eager, are we?” Daniel teases, his hands working to undo his belt. He leaves it in his belt loops, the buckle hanging undone, and unbuttons his dress slacks. You watch as he drags his zipper down, now able to see his cock straining against the fabric of his black boxer briefs, and pushes his pants and underwear down enough to free himself. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him as your gaze travels from the dark, well-groomed patch of hair above his base, down his length to his tip.

“Fuck,” you whisper, barely audible, as your gaze returns to meet Daniel’s. He strokes himself a few times, smirking down at you. With his free hand, he reaches down and runs his thumb across your lower lip once more.

“You seem to know what to do, sweetheart,” Daniel says as you open for him again, sticking your tongue out flat. He nods approvingly and lowers his cock, dragging his tip along your tongue before he pushes himself into your mouth. A low groan rumbles from his chest as you close your lips around him. “Just like fucking velvet.”

He gathers your hair into a ponytail and allows you to set your own pace as he watches his cock slide past your lips. You take him all the way in, widening the back of your throat so you don’t gag, and pause when your lips reach his base. Flicking your eyes up, you find Daniel staring down at you slack-jawed, his pupils blending into his irises seamlessly. You slowly start to draw your head back, the tip of your tongue following the path of the vein that runs the length of his shaft. Your tongue swirls around his tip, drawing a soft moan from his lips as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall.

“Fucking hell,” he groans as you pick up your pace, his grasp on your hair tightening as his hips buck involuntarily. You gag slightly as his tip hits the back of your throat and you flash your gaze up to him, moaning around him to entice him to keep going. Daniel’s eyes flash open and he looks down at you for confirmation, which you give to him in the form of a nod. 

“You’re fucking dangerous,” he says, letting your hair fall from the makeshift ponytail he held and tangling his fingers in it instead. He starts to fuck your mouth, slowly at first to not overwhelm you. Rough, but considerate, you think as his tip knocks the back of your throat. Once he’s sure you’re adjusted he picks up his pace, his hand holding your head in place. He lets another low moan fill the room as you hum around him.

“Daniel?” you hear a man’s voice on the other side of the door ask. “Is that you? Are you good, dude?”

Daniel’s head rolls to glance at the door, still fucking your throat as he speaks up through the door. “I’m fine,” he says, attempting a voice that doesn’t sound like he’s getting his dick sucked in the bathroom.

“You sure? We’re back on stage at 10:30,” the stranger reminds him, attempting to push the door open. Daniel’s free arm darts across the door, blocking it from opening.

“I fucking know, Sam!” he yells, his fingers tightening in your hair as he drives his cock to the back of your throat harshly. You gag around him this time, tears springing to your eyes and threatening to fall down your cheeks. You hear the man scoff on the other side of the door, followed by the sound of his footsteps receding, and you look up at Daniel. He glances at his watch, seeing that it’s 10:20 pm, and then meets your gaze, winks, and says, “Let’s make this quick, sweetheart.”

He pulls your mouth off of him and offers you a hand to stand up, which you graciously take, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Your lips collide in a fervent kiss, tongues tangling and hands gripping at each others’ clothes. Daniel’s hands find the button on your jeans and swiftly pop it open, followed by your zipper. He spins you around quickly and tugs your jeans down over your ass, letting them rest around your thighs as he guides you forward to bend over the sink.

“My god, Y/N,” he murmurs, seeing the soaked state of your plum-colored panties. Daniel loops his fingers in the waistband and tugs them down, the sudden cool air mixed with unbridled anticipation making you shiver. His fingertips grip into your ass for a moment before he draws his hand back and delivers a solid smack to your outer thigh, drawing a whimper from your throat. He drops to his knees behind you and drags a finger through your center, watching as you shiver again. Placing his finger onto his tongue, he cleans your arousal off and hums.

“Sweeter than sin,” he muses, licking a stripe up your inner thigh and smirking to himself as your legs quivered in response. He grips your thighs, hard enough to leave bruises, and pushes them apart, dragging his tongue through your folds slowly. You gasp as he laps at your core, your fingers gripping the porcelain harshly, and you arch your back, pushing back against his face.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your head dropping as he moans into you, the vibration ripping right through you. Daniel pulls his face away and you whine desperately at the loss of contact, gasping a second later as he pushes two fingers into you and curls them. He sets a quick, consistent pace with his fingers, bringing you closer to the edge as you bite your lip to try to stifle your moans. 

“I’m…I’m close,” you manage, his fingers working relentlessly at your sensitive spot.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. “Give it to me.”

He curls his fingers once more and your vision goes white, your moans filling the room as you cum on his fingers. Your legs shake as he works you through it, his motions slowing as your moans turn to ragged panting. He feels for his wallet in his pocket, but realizes he must have left it backstage, and he stands, placing a hand on your lower back.

“I don’t have a condom,” he confesses, watching you for a reaction. You lift your head and look at him through the mirror and shrug your shoulders.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD,” you say, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Are you clean?”

Daniel nods and smirks, stroking himself as his eyes traverse your body. You let your head fall again, arch your back, and say, “What are you waiting for then?”

“Careful what you wish for, darling,” he says, dragging his cock through your wetness and pushing into you until your bodies are flush. You gasp as you feel him brush your cervix and you feel yourself tighten around him. He groans and grips your waist, your pussy squeezing his cock as you adjust to his size. “Fuck, and I thought your mouth felt like heaven.”

He pulls back and snaps his hips forward, driving you into the sink as you push your ass back against him. Obscenities intertwined with the other’s name fall from both of your lips as he fucks you. 

Daniel reaches up with one hand and collects your hair into a ponytail again, wrapping your tresses around his hand and tugging your head back. Your eyes meet in the mirror, a smirk touching his lips as he says, “Want you to watch me fuck you, baby.”

You brace yourself on the sink and cry out quietly, the intense arch in your back allowing him to drive his cock deeper. His hand on your waist lifts and comes down on your ass with a loud crack and you whimper, your sounds spurring him on. You can feel your second orgasm coming on as you watch yourself in the mirror, mouth agape as lewd sounds tumble out of you. 

“Daniel…” you moan, looking up at him through the mirror. He looks like a god, his lips parted and his curls falling into his eyes as he snaps his hips forward again. “I’m…fuck,” you pant out, your muscles squeezing around him as you fall apart around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, his fingers kneading into your ass. “Cum on my cock, just like that.” 

Your muscles squeeze around him one final time as he pulls out almost all the way, groaning as he slams into you and spills his own release. You feel his cock twitch inside of you and his breath on your back as he leans over you, his orgasm wracking his body. He slides out of you after a moment and tucks himself back into his pants before he cleans you up the best he can with some toilet paper.

“Thanks,” you say, suddenly shy as if you hadn’t let a man you just met fuck you in a bathroom, and you tug your underwear and jeans back up. He smiles at your sudden bashfulness and nods, watching you pick your purse up from where it had fallen.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he says with a wink. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a much more tender fashion than he had earlier. “Stay for another set?”

Your face flushes as you look up at him, studying his face for a moment, your eyes focusing on the shape of his nose. As your eyes move to study his lips, you realize he’s asking you a question and you’re missing it. You shake away the fog clouding your thoughts and focus.

“Oh, um,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse and see about 20 texts and 2 missed calls from Rose, probably in a full-on panic now that you’ve been gone and ignoring her texts. “Shit, I’m in trouble. Gotta run, see you around maybe!”

You rush out the door, leaving him by himself, and stand up on your toes to see over the crowd. You spot Rose back by the door and push through the crowd as quickly as you can, putting your arm up and waving her down.

“Oh my god, where the fuck have you been?” she scolds you as you approach her. You grab her wrist and pull her closer so you can talk in her ear.

“We have to go,” you say, pulling her behind you towards the door.

“Wait wait, what?” She asks as she resists you, pulling you to stop. “What the fuck happened?”

“Oh my god,” you say, drawing out the last word, tugging her along. “I’ll tell you while we walk.”

She relents and follows after you, telling the bouncers to have a good night. She catches up to you and links your arms as you walk back towards where the car is parked. Once you were far enough away, you burst into a giddy giggling fit and lean against a light post to catch your breath. Rose moves to the edge of the sidewalk and folds her arms over her chest, watching you with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, spill. What did I miss,” she prods, nudging your foot with hers. Your head falls back against the light post gently and you turn your head to look at her.

“You know the drummer?” You ask, giggling again. Rose nods and tilts her head to the side, waiting for you to continue. “We just fucked in the bathroom.”

You cover your mouth dramatically after you say it and smile under your hands. Her mouth falls open and she grabs your wrist, pulling you off the post to start walking again.

“Oh my god, he was hot, Y/N,” she says, tugging you along. You catch up with her as you’re turning the corner to the car and nod.

“Mhm, I know,” you say, satisfaction dripping from your voice. You climb into the passenger seat and watch Rose walk around to the driver’s side. She climbs in and starts the car up, pulling onto the street and driving back towards your apartment. “Oh my god and he was good,” you add, tossing your head back against the headrest.

Rose shakes her head and laughs, “You’re fucking insane, you know?”

You nod dramatically and close your eyes as Rose rounds the corner to your street, pulling into the apartment lot and throwing the car into park. You climb out and start towards the building, slowing down so Rose can catch up. You walk into the building together and ride the elevator up to your floor.

“I thought the piano guy was hot,” she confesses, turning to look at you as you lean against the elevator wall. This sends you into another laughing fit.

“He almost walked in on us!” You shout, slapping Rose’s arm as you remember Danny blocking the door while you were on your knees.

“No way!” She clings to you and laughs with you. You both stumble out of the elevator and up to your door, waiting as Rose unlocks it and falling inside as the door opens. 

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

On Monday morning you walk out of your first class of the semester, Philosophy of Sex and Gender, and glance down at your watch. With about a half hour until your Art History class, you decide to grab a quick snack at the cafe. You tug your sweatshirt off, the late morning sun starting to warm up the day, and plop yourself into a puffy leather chair near the window to people-watch as you snack on the trail mix you bought. 

As you fiddle with a loose string hanging from one of the rips in your jeans, your mind comes alive as you zone out, bringing you back to Saturday night. The whole day passes through your memory like a timelapse, slowing when you tug Rose into the bar with you. Daniel’s figure behind the drums pops into your head and you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks as you see the two of you at the bar, as if you’re watching the interaction from a different perspective. You feel your heart race as you think about the bruises on your thighs from his grip, almost able to imagine the feeling of his hands on you.

As you snap yourself out of it, not wanting to spend the rest of your day helplessly worked up, you glance at your watch. You flinch at the 10:55 am staring back at you, realizing you only had five minutes to book it across the quad. Grabbing your bag from where it rests against your chair, you race out the door to get to the building on the other side of campus. 

You make it inside, out of breath and about two minutes late, and slip into the lecture hall, spotting the professor standing with his back to you as he writes on the chalkboard. Scanning the room for a decent seat, you take note of the way his dark curls are pulled back into a low ponytail and the way he had rolled the sleeves of his black dress shirt. You feel a pang of uneasiness as you realize how familiar he looks from the back.

You spot a seat on the aisle in the third row, making the decision that it’s yours now, but as you start to step forward he turns around to look at something on his desk and you freeze in your place. Not sure you’re seeing things correctly, you duck into a seat towards the back. He turns back to the chalkboard, underlining a date before setting the chalk down and turning to face the class. Fuck, you think.

“Hey guys, I’m Dr. Wagner,” Daniel says, clapping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “We’re gonna get started here.”

Hearing his voice confirms it and you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening your chat with Rose and furiously typing. You know she’s in an acting lab so she won’t answer right away, but you need to tell someone.

To: Rose🌹

DUDE

To: Rose🌹

MY FUCKING ART HISTORY PROF IS THE DRUMMER FROM THE BAR

You’re not sure whether you want to get up and leave or just try to avoid his eyes. Suddenly you realize that Daniel is the type of professor who paces when he talks as he starts to walk up the aisle you’re sitting on. Every few steps he stops to glance up at the bullet points he had written on the board, his eyes never landing on any one person as he spoke.

“So September 18th is when your first paper is due,” Daniel says, strolling up the aisle. As he lifts his eyes from the floor to glance back at the board, his gaze passes over you and he does a subtle double take, meeting your eyes. “Um,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “Oh, right. And your first exam is uh…is the week after.”

Your cheeks flush when you see it in his eyes that he recognizes you and you break the shared moment, dropping your eyes back to your phone screen to type out another text.

To: Rose🌹

He just fucking saw me. What do I DO???

You shove your phone back into your pocket as Daniel continues rattling off dates of exams and papers, answering questions as they pop up from the class. You keep your eyes trained on the floor, almost afraid to look up and find him staring at you again. 

“Okay, and last but not least, your final is on December 5th,” he says, wrapping up the hour-long lecture ten minutes early. “Anyways, welcome back guys. Go on, get outta here.”

Daniel waves his hand dismissively and picks up the eraser from the tray on the chalkboard, starting to clean the markings off of it. You practically leap out of your seat to make a beeline for the door, fearing you’d fall into a million pieces if you stayed a second longer.

“Oh, and uh,” he says as he turns to look at the class list to find your name, even though he already knows who you are, halting you just before you step into the hallway. “Y/N, can you hang back for a sec?”

Your mouth goes dry as you turn around, staring at him from the doorway. Daniel stares back at you, not turning away until you take a step back into the room.  As you slowly make your way toward the front of the room, he turns back to the board, lifting a spray bottle from the floor and spraying water on a rag. You reach the front row of the class and lean your hip against the side of the aisle seat, watching his muscles shift beneath the black fabric as he wipes the board down.

“Didn’t think ‘see you around maybe’ meant like this,” he says as he drapes the rag over the bottle on the floor and turns to the desk, refusing to meet your eyes. You trade leaning against the seat for sitting down in it, fearful that your legs might give out from under you, and stare up at him, your eyes wide and your lips parted as you search your brain for something to say.

“I’m not su-” you trail off as he flashes you a stern look.

“You’re not sure what I mean?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you and leaning on the corner of the desk before continuing, “I think you are, sweetheart.” You look over both shoulders, checking for any lingering students.

“It’s not like I knew, professor,” you challenge, your voice hushed despite being the only two people in the room, and cross your legs. Your hands rest in your lap and you turn your nervous energy to the loose string on your jeans again.

“Don’t do that,” Daniel says, his gaze boring straight through you.

A smirk finds its way to your lips and your hands fall still in your lap as you cock your head to the side, feigning innocence, “Don’t do what?”

He pushes himself off the desk and steps down off the small stage, stopping in front of you and bracing himself on the wooden armrests as he leans down over you. Your head spins as you look up at him, his cologne invading your senses and making it difficult to think.

“That innocent ‘professor’ bit,” He whispers as he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear and sending a chill down your spine. You shiver as his lips connect with your neck, his bangs brushing your shoulder lightly. Just as soon as the contact is made it’s gone as he lifts his head to look at you, studying the shade of pink that creeps up your neck. You swallow hard and your lips part as if to say something, but Daniel strokes a thumb along your jaw, scrambling your thoughts. He clicks his tongue and blows a laugh through his nose, “What, suddenly speechless?”

He pushes himself up and smooths his hands over his slacks before stepping back up onto the stage and taking a seat behind the desk. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and shake your head.

“No,” you say simply. “Is sir better?”

A smirk forms on his lips and he nods his head, satisfied with your answer. He pushes a pile of papers together and taps them on the desk to align them before sliding them into a pocket of his leather bag. 

You remain in your seat, watching as he organizes some things in his bag, and you feel your phone vibrate three times in your pocket, the buzz pattern you’d given Rose. Tugging it free, you glance at the screen and, sure enough, see a text from your best friend waiting for you.

From: Rose🌹

You’re fucking joking.

Daniel clears his throat and looks at you expectantly, silently demanding your attention back. You tuck your phone back into your pocket and return your eyes to him.

“You know you could have mentioned this,” you say, having had a moment to collect your thoughts. He scoffs and shoots you an incredulous look, folding his hands on his desk.

“Sorry, it didn’t really cross my mind to talk about my day job while I was fucking you,” he spits out, standing and collecting his things. 

“I need to go meet with a colleague briefly,” he explains, leaning against the side of the desk. “I think we should talk about this privately. Go wait outside of my office.”

You sit up straight and take a breath, parting your lips to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop you. Shrinking back into your seat, you watch him step down and stop when he stands next to you. With a finger under your chin, he pulls up gently, forcing you to look up at him.

“Be a good girl,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Room 321.”

Daniel lets go of your face, turns up the aisle, and walks into the building’s lobby, leaving you alone in the room as you’d left him at the bar. You sit silently for a few minutes, debating your next move, and finally decide to go, feeling certain he wouldn’t be letting this go. You gather your belongings and make your way toward the hall, unsure of what awaits you when he gets back.

· · ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── · ·

chapter ii

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[twohearts-hs]

Always & Forever Two - Marshall Mathers x Reader Series

Words: 4.4k

Pairings: Marshall Mathers x Fem!Reader Series

Synopsis;: They loved each other with every fibre and being. They knew that they were meant to be together, but it seemed like every obstacle came in the way. She was twenty-one, he was forty and they knew that it would be hard. Therefore, they promised forever and always as they were meant to be together despite every turmoil that came their way.

Warnings: Swearing, Alcohol & smoking. More warnings will come throughout the series.

|| Masterlist for Series ||

Hope you enjoy :)

May 2012

Y/N leaned against the wall in the kitchen as she ran a hand over her forehead. It’s noon and she had only been here for four hours…another eight to go.

She worked three times a week at the diner. Which each were twelve-hour shifts, therefore the rest of the week she was filled with summer classes.

However, the Sunday rush was not what they anticipated. It was crazy busy. At least she got to control the music for the day which was old rock and roll.

“Tired?” she heard Gavin say from behind the steel table in the kitchen.

“You could say that,” she whispered with a chuckle as she grabbed the plates and read the tag of where they were going. “I stayed up writing a paper till three a.m. as I forgot it was due.”

“Girl, you need a break.”

“I need a holiday, but you do not get one at this ripe age of twenty-one and in this economy,” she joked as she made her way to the tables.

Placing down the plates, she said the orders before looking up. A woman in her late teens sat with brunette hair and flawless beauty and across from her was…

“Y/N,” he said her name so perfectly as if he had practised it for hours.

“Marshall,” she said as she glanced at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Y/N sent a quick nod and looked over at the woman across from him before looking at him. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything else,” was all she said before turning away.

Marshall watched as she walked back to the kitchen. He glanced to Hailie before furrowing his brow.

“You know her?” Hailie said.

“Um, not really. We met at na event but it does not matter,” he stated before glancing down at his food.

“Ok…”

Y/N walked back to the kitchen before glancing at how empty the kitchen was all of a sudden. All the cooks lined up looking out the window to main area where they placed the plates. Why were they all there?

“What are you looking at?” she asked as she stood behind them.

“Eminem is here,” Gavin said, “you just served Eminem.”

“I just served…” Y/N whispered before glancing out the window too. “I just served Eminem,” she said more to herself. Eminem got her fired. Holy shit. “Like the rapper?”

Gavin turned around and had a stunned expression. “Yeah, like the rapper.”

The more she looked at him, the more she pieced together the information. How did she not know? She grew up with Eminem. Not in terms of being a hardcore fan but his music was played in her house and her mom did go to a concert when she was younger, but she sat and talked to The Eminem the other week.

It’s been a week since she saw him. He had to been at the sports event for publicity as he was Eminem. The event of course had Eminem there as this was Detroit.

Y/N went around back to his table. Marshall glanced up from his food to see her.

“Emily went on break, so I am just filling in for her right now until she is back. How are the first few bites?” she asked.

“Good,” they both said, and Y/N was content with that and went to turn away.

However, Marshall glanced up at her and sasked, “How are you?”

Y/N heard his voice and turned back around. Then his question hit her…he asked how she was. He cared about how she was… Therefore she smiled and said, “Good. Busy but good. You?”

“Good.”

Y/N thought the conversation was done and after a moment, she nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Gavin quickly pulled her by her arm into the back.

“Gavin!” she exclaimed as he pulled her into the closet.

“How was talking to Eminem? Could you maybe hype me up and get me a auto-“

“No,” she said blankly as if it was obvious.

“What?”

“He is obviously enjoying his meal with his friend-“

“Daughter.”

“Daughter. He is enjoying a meal with his daughter, and we cannot disturb that,” Y/N said. “Now if you excuse me, I have customers to serve.”

Emily came back from her break and continued to serve Marshall and his daughter. Y/N was told to go on her break and instead, went outside to have a drink of water and to have a smoke. It was the alley by the diner, and she was just about to light one before a voice interrupted her. She was not a chain smoker or an addict…simply, she liked the tobacco filling her lungs when she was stressed. She knew the habit was bad and she needed to kick it. However, she continued smoking.

“You know those will kill you,” Marshall said as he stepped into the alley.

“A little birdy told me so,” she hummed, “but that’s-“

“The purpose. To kill yourself a little?” he commented as he leaned against the wall. “I did not know you worked at Ted’s.”

She shrugged. “Just another job.” He nodded. “It helps with the stress,” she commented, “the smoking.”

He nodded again. “It does kill you.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I hope you enjoyed your meal-“

“Wasn’t too bad. You know,” he began as he kicked the ground lightly, “we keep running into each other.”

“Detroit is small.”

“Not really,” he argued.

“What do you want me to say, Marshall?” she hummed. “This is fate?”

“If we meet for a third time I will say its fate,” he argued back.

“Ok and if we do what does that mean?”

Marshall smiled and crossed his arms. “We will find out.”

“Ok,” Y/N whispered and nodded.

“Ok. Now stop smoking for me, will you? A pretty girl with attitude is needed in this world.”

Y/N chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Ok, duly noted. Bye, Marshall.”

“Bye, Y/n.”

Marshall walked away and Y/N watched as he descended. He was interested in her. He was intrigued by her and yet, she could not help but wonder why the Marshall Mathers talked to her. What did Eminem want with her? Who knew?

-

June 2012

Sam was something Y/N did not know how to describe. They met at a bar a few months ago and despite knowing each other’s bodies, that was all they were doing.

He was pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was taller and stronger. She did not know much about him besides his desire to become something more, but Y/N did not have time for that. She needed a release. It was simply just sex.

She did not know much about him. She knew he worked in the music industry. However, they did not have those serious conversations besides what pleased each other. Once a week they would see each other, and it would be a world of ecstasy before they parted ways.

Y/N took the bus to the recording studio. Sam was running late at the studio and suggested they meet at the studio before driving back to his place. Y/N got out of the bus and pulled her bag over her shoulder. She was in leggings and a hoodie.

Sam was fidgeting with the sound panel as Y/N entered the room. Instantly, he turned around and spotted the woman in the doorframe.

“Come in, Em and I are just mixing some tapes,” Sam said as he got up to greet her, but Y/N dodged the hug to look at the figure that sat next to him.

nstantly, Marshall smiled sending her a curt nod her way. Y/N shook her head in disbelief.

He was right. If they had a third time is the charm for meeting. This was fate. She was meant to meet Eminem for some reason. It’s been a month and a half since the curb side cigarette meeting and now she sat in his studio.

Sam introduced the team in the booth but when he got to Marshall he sent a grin.

“Y/N.”

“Marshall,” she quipped.

He chuckled and turned back to mix he was working on.

Fate. What a silly little thing…

“You know each other?” Sam asked as he glanced between the two.

“Something like that,” she hummed but then looked back at Sam. “Ready to go?”

Sam glanced around at the group before landing on Marshall. “Um, can I go, mate?” Sam asked.

Marshall did not even turn his chair before muttering, “No. We need to work on this.”

Sam nodded then looked at Y/N. “Uh, going to be a while.”

Y/N rose a brow then nodded. “Ok, I will go home.”

“You can stay,” Marshall said turning around, “would like to hear your opinion.” He patted the spot next to him that usually Sam sits but obviously he was being kicked out. Y/N settled, and Marshall handed her a pair of headphones.

“I get to listen to unreleased Eminem music?” she whispered to him.

Marshall smiled. “How did you know I was Eminem?”

“Gavin the line cook at the diner. He has a man crush on you.”

He chuckled. “Good to know. Did you know when we met?”

She shook her head before he pressed play. Y/N listened to the whole song and began to nod her head along. Marshall watched her the entire time seeing the change in expression as she enjoyed the mix. Once finished, she took the headphones off.

“I like it. Its good. What is it called?”

“Don’t know yet, but it is still a work in progress.”

Sam watched the entire scene in front of him. How she was close to him and smiled when he talked. Her eyes shined just a little brighter when he cracked a joke. He was so close to touching her and when he talked, he would lean in. Y/N was his. The last two months he had been pining after her.

Now, he got his big break at helping on an Eminem CD and here he was Eminem was stealing his girl.

Who did he think he was?

“Which tape was it?” Sam asked from the corner.

“Track eight.”

“Good one.”

Y/N turned around to see Sam and the solemn look on his face. Arms crossed as he watched the scene. However, Sam’s phone rang making him leave the room. Y/N turned to Marshall who was looking at her.

“I told you that if we meet again, it’s fate,” he quipped.

She chuckled. “Want my number or something?” He nodded, fishing out his blackberry in his pocket. “A blackberry what are you, fifty?” she hummed.

“Thirty-nine, thank you and I am very content with it.”

Another chuckle came from her lips which lit up Marshall’s cold heart for a moment. He handed her the device where she put her phone number in.

“I will warn you; I am not looking for anything serious. Just friends.”

His heart broke slightly from hearing that, but he ignored it. “That is all I am looking for. We keep running into each other-“

“Pun intended?”

“Pun intended. You are meant to be in my life somehow, Y/N.”

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked. “I am supposed to hang out with Sam, but I want to hang out with my new friend.”

Marshall smiled at that and nodded. “Want to come to my place then? We can’t really go out due to the whole Eminem…”

“Sure. Or we can go for a drive or something.”

He grinned at that. “Sure, let me get rid of Sam.”

Marshall left the room leaving Y/N in the recording room by herself. She did not know what any of this equipment was, but she was intrigued by it. Lots of buttons, levers and more. She was tempted to touch but if she fucked with an Eminem song…Eminem would fuck her up.

Eventually, Sam came back. “Are we going?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood anymore. Raincheck?”

The look on his face made her break slightly but he nodded. “Want me to drive you home?”

She rose a brow knowing exactly what he was implying. “We are not seeing each other tonight, Sam.”

He nodded and eventually gathered his things and left. Marshall came back and saw her sitting there with her bag ready to go. He grinned.

“You know, I am not one to just jump into a stranger’s car,” she stated.

“Well, I would say we can go somewhere public but-“

“I know.”

“I trust you though,” she said, “for only meeting you three times and sharing probably less than a hundred words, I do trust you.”

His heart shined lightly from that comment and nodded. He gathered his things before letting her walk out of the recording studio. He kept his hands to himself, hands in pocket as Y/N walked by his side.

“How did you get here?”

“Bus.”

He nodded as he stopped in front of an Aston Martin V8 Vantage. They got in and Y/N placed her bag between her legs as he settled in the driver’s spot.

“How do you know Sam?”

She pursed her lips and then sent him a grimace. “We met at a bar and have been sleeping together for the last few months,” Y/N stated but said in a tone that she was not impressed with herself.

Marshall nodded. “He is just helping with one song but honestly, I am not a big fan of his work,” he admitted.

“Really? Well, if you’re not really a fan of his work, I am not really a fan of him in bed.”

He chuckled. “Bad?”

She shrugged. “Just fills the needs.”

“How is work going?” he asked as they drove.

“Fine. Working loads. I need to save for my master’s because I do not know if I am going to get a scholarship.”

Marshall nodded. “Art history, right?”

She nodded. “The most useless degree but I was eighteen and did not know what else to study. I am the first in my family to have gotten a degree so…”

“Parents did not go to school?”

“My mom never went to post-secondary. I am from Canada, and she owns a surf shop in a small town. Its super cute. My dad on the other hand…I never knew,” she said. There was more to her dad, but it was simple to just keep it like that.

“I never knew my dad too,” he said, “so I get it.”

“Yeah. I am from the same town as Pamela Anderson is from. Ladysmith, British Columbia.”

He nodded knowing exactly that name and what he has said about her. “Surf town?”

“Not really. But my mom’s best friend lives in Tofino so we used to go there like a few times a month.”

“You surf?”

“Sure do. Miss it terribly as I am stuck in the Midwest.”

“How did you get to Detroit then?”

Y/N explained the story. The scholarships, the opportunities and the need to just start new.

“My mom and I had a falling out with me moving here. She was not ready to let me go. She needed me more than I needed her.”

“Meaning?”

“I love my mom, but she loves me more than anything.”

“Well, I am a parent and I can relate-“

“But she was obsessive with me. She wanted me to be the best in everything and to make her world better. She grew up with nothing and she made a name for herself with the shop. However, she had the shop and me. That was her life.”

He nodded. “I think she was lonely.”

Y/N agreed. “She just wants the best for me but she wanted me to stay in that town, but I needed to get out of that town. Off that island.”

He nodded again.

Marshall parked the car at some park and turned to look at her.

“Why is this Canadian girl in my life?” he asked.

Y/N looked at him. “Why am I in Eminem’s car?”

He chuckled.

“I don’t care that you’re Eminem by the way. I mean I did grow up with your music and I would say my mom is a fan…” she began to ramble, “like she did get to your concert in ’02 or ’03 or something. However, I am not-“

“Stop,” he whispered, “I believe you. You’re a grounded person.”

Y/N nodded.

“And I am sorry for getting you fired,” he said, “and being a jackass about it.”

Y/N chuckled. “It was a terrible job.”

“How is the diner?”

Y/N began to explain the logistics of the diner. The secrets, the people, the life of it and Marshall listened. He truly listened to every word she said.

There was something about this Canadian girl. She was beautiful, he would admit. The way the sun shined on her face; it brightened her freckles. Her lips were plump and kissable. Her eyes were bright with life. She has seen better days, but she was a survivor and a trooper. She was something and something magnificent.

However, as she talked, he listened to everything she said but he was so focused on how she used her hands to explain the story how her eyes fluttered and her expressions changed when the tone altered.

It had been a while since he felt this way. He was always so cold towards love. Since Kim, he kept to himself, focused on his career and his girls. However, she was a light in the very dark hallway, and he could not help but be the moth drawn to it.

“Why do you sleep with Sam?”

“You asked me this question before…”

“You’re disrespecting yourself by just-“

She chuckled. “Enough about me Marshall, tell me about yourself.”

He paused for the moment to think. What did she want to know? Everything about him was accessible via the internet but the pretty girl in front of him was wanting to get to know him…

“I am Marshall Mathers,” he said, “I have three daughters and I can rap-“

“No,” she said, “I know that. Tell me something deeper.”

He shrugged and took a moment to find his words. “I like the colour blue.”

“Ok.”

“I like hip-hop.”

“Ok.”

“And I think you’re pretty,” he said with a smirk.

Y/N smiled lightly but not a wide bodacious rather a simple and delicate smile. Like it was the first time she had ever heard those words come from the boy.

“I think you’re unique, independent and admirable,” he whispered. They faced one another with the middle console keeping them apart. However, with every word that came from his thin lips, he inched closer. Marshall reached out and grasped the piece of hair that was by her ear and slowly, he tucked it.

“You’re smart, snarky with humour. You’re not scared to ask what you want. However,” he pulled away, “you have a lot of darkness that takes the lightness from your eyes, and I want to know.

Y/N paused. Her smile faded slowly, and she looked at him with a serious demeanour.

“You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“Nor do you with me but I would like to.”

“I want to know your demons, Marshall.”

He shook his head and snickered lightly. He did not know how to answer that comment. A woman who was half his age sat here, young and ambitious saying she wanted to get to know him. Marshall knew better. She was momentarily. She was a blip in his world. However, he was attracted to this blip and wanted her to last just enough to potentially make him happy then she would walk as she was a twenty-one-year-old with her whole life ahead of her.

Therefore, he nodded.

“I would like to know yours too,” he said as he tucked the other side of her hair away. “Three times we ran into each other, quite potentially the universe has something to say.”

Whoever made this world had something to meddle with this relationship.

“Why art history?” he asked eventually as they stared at one another.

“Because there is beauty in art and the artists are so thoughtful. There is so much in a painting, a story to be told. Symbolism and analogies. You can read a whole story in just one painting. Why music? It is similar. You share an experience, a thought, an emotion, an opinion and a message all in rhythm, lyrics and beat. It is an art.”

Marshall admired her. The way she said it was with such utter love and devotion. However, as he was about to open his mouth her phone rang.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “it’s Sam.” As she said that he could not help but let his heart fall slightly. Y/N brought the phone to her ear and answered, “Hello.”

“Hey. I swung by your house to see if you were home and you were not. So was just checking-“

“I am fine. I am with Marshall,” she said so innocently.

“Oh, Marshall like Eminem Marshall?”

“Yeah.”

“No offence, Y/N, but he is Eminem. He is just trying to fuck you. He is going to hurt you.”

Y/N sighed, and it was clear Marshall could overhear the conversation. His face fell and instead, his brows furrowed with being offended. She opened the door to step out of the car to have this personal conversation, but Marshall followed by opening the door to see her rolling her eyes and kicking the ground.

“Sam, why does that matter to you? We are literally just fooling around.”

“Well, I have been trying to get more out of you-“

“I made it so clear I was not looking for something serious.”

“Look, if you want to be a whore, be a fucking whore for Em but don’t fucking complain if he is a fucking ass to you,” he snapped. “Enjoy getting dicked down by Eminem.” Then he hung up.

Marshall crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Y/N’s unimpressed face as she pocketed her phone.

“According to Sam I am a whore for hanging out with you,” she stated with a chuckle. “Fucking men I tell you,” she whispered the last part. “Can’t deal with fucking competition.”

Marshall raised a brow and nodded. “He called you a whore?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Like that would hurt. I have been called worse.”

Marshall had a grimace before his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He called her a whore. He called her a whore and a piece of him was angered, upset and more importantly infuriated.

This was Y/N. Sweet, sweet, genuine Y/N.

“Cut it off,” he stated with his arms crossed. “Cut the whole relationship off.”

Y/N gave him a look of disbelief and utter ignorance before sighing. “I can’t. I’ll be the ass.”

“Then be the ass,” he was serious. Completely and terrifying serious. ‘Be an ass.’ He would be. He would 100% be ass.

How dare he say such an ugly word to the most beautiful girl.

Y/N sighed and shook her head. There was some sympathy in her and to be a complete bitch was not in her cards of the night, but she had a boy in front of her. A handsome, mature and utterly devoted man who was telling her, whispering her the truth.

“He just wants my cunt, doesn’t he?” she asked.

What a dirty word for such a girl. He was taken aback by the comment, but he could not display that. She was beauty and she was grace.

They stood in the parking lot at the local park. She had tears welling up in her eyes and him looking as if the most beautiful girl just walked into the room.

It’s been years since he loved, but this devil walked in with cashmere and cream with devotion and adoration laced in her simple but beautiful eyes. A wonder with prospects of horror but he wanted her in ways he could not communicate.

“He is a boy,” he whispered as he took a step.

“And I am a girl,” she replied, “so…”

“A girl does not need a boy. She does not need a man,” he stated, “she needs wonder, acceptance,” he took another step, “and someone with an open mind.”

Y/N scoffed. “You’re saying I need someone.”

“You do.”

Y/N kicked the ground before glancing up at him. “You’re the man who has not dated since his ex-wife. You’re the epitome of being alone and yet, you’re standing in front of me with-“

“You’re young.”

Another loud scoff came from her. “Not like I have heard that before.”

Marshall sighed. “This is coming across as wrong.”

“I do not need someone to achieve the goals I want. I don’t need Sam.”

This was coming out wrong and the girl in front of him did not understand.

“Y/N,” he said then took a break, “don’t…” he took a breath, “don’t think you need someone when you’re capable of achieving something on your own.” He waited. “You’re responsible for your own success.”

Her frown turned slightly from solemn to emotionless to smile. “You’re a lonely man, Mr. Mathers.”

He shrugged. “I don’t sleep around-“

“You used to.”

“I did.”

“But that is the past.”

“Indeed. I am grown now.”

“And I am not?”

“Never said that. Sleep with who you like but don’t be used.”

“Sam is nice.”

“Sam is obsessed with you.” A pause. “You don’t need that.”

“I like the attention.”

“Then that’s your own issues shining through,” he commented then took a step. “I want to be your friend, Y/N, if you have me.”

“Usually, people do not propose friendship to me. We usually just become friends.”

“Call me old fashioned then,” he said with a shrug.

“You want to be friends with me?” she said with disbelief and slowly. “Me?”

“Yes.”           

“The overworked came from a single mom, a student who is half your age?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

Then she smiled and not just a small, happy smile but rather and impressed smile.

“I would like that, Marshall Mathers.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”

“Then Miss. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N will you do the honours of being my friend.”

“I consent.”

-

There you go chapter two!

Much love,

Ava

[therealcocoshady]

Love Game

Author’s Note : shoutout to @shady-577 for texting me the idea for this 👀. Y’all think I’m the Angst queen ? You haven’t met this amazing human being 😂.

TW : ANGST

Marshall raised an eyebrow when he walked in Denaun’s place and noticed shopping bags everywhere. He knew his friends liked clothing but the quantity was over the top. The whole living room was filled with tons of new clothes, with items from various designers’ most recent collections.

- New wardrobe ? He asked.

- Yeah, I figured I could use an update, his friend shrugged. Apparently, I should try wearing things that are more fitted.

- Who said that ? He chuckled. Did you hire a stylist too ?

- I’m just trying to keep up, man, Denaun said evasively. Not everyone wears the same sweatpants and Lions apparel, you know. Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to make an effort either…

- I’m fine, thanks, he chortled. Seriously, though, what’s that for ?

He started looking at the items his friend had bought and noticed it wasn’t only clothes. He spotted bags from various stores, containing expensive candles and even skincare. That’s the it hit him : there was a lady. And like the asshole he very much was, he was not about to lose an opportunity to make fun of his best friend.

- I know your fifties are just around the corner but… skincare ? He asked with a smirk.

- I need to moisturize, Denaun replied. My skin’s a little dry.

- And the candles ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. Just admit it ! You’re seeing someone !

His friend gave him an annoyed look and sighed, not denying anything. It made sense. As refined as Denaun could be, he was not the type to invest in $90 candles that smelled like peonies. His friend had not really been in luck with the ladies, in the past years, and he was happy he finally found someone. He was a great guy and he deserved some happiness.

- What’s her name ? He asked.

- Shut up, Denaun replied in embarrassment.

- She hot ? He asked with a smirk. Slutty ?

- Man, don’t talk about her like that ! His friend snapped.

- I was just asking, he said in his own defense.

Damn. If he was getting defensive, it must mean he really liked that girl. Whoever she was, he just hoped she was worth it. Denaun was a sweet guy but he had a knack for only attracting the wrong girls, the ones who ended up playing him. He also knew he was to blame, in a way : he couldn’t count the times when women dates his friends in hope to get closer to him. He had always tried to make his friends benefit from his status but, when it came to the ladies, it wasn’t too easy and a lot of them were only interested because of the money or the fact that they could meet Eminem, without really caring about the guys they were dating. Before he could say anything more, they heard the doorbell and, minutes later, you were walking in, carrying bags of freshly baked cupcakes, both sweet and salty.

- Hi boys, you said before giving both of them a peck on the cheek. Where are the others ?

- Running late, Denaun said. Let me help you with that.

He grabbed the bags of cupcakes and went to put them in the kitchen, while you babbled to him about the flavors. You were so cute, thinking about everyone and what they liked. You had memorized everyone’s favorites so that you could make them. You had walked into their life a couple of months ago and the whole group agreed that you were the sweetest thing on earth. With your fluttery eyelashes and warm smile, you managed to turn these Detroit rappers into gentlemen and, whether it was Bizarre, Swift, Kuniva, Denaun or Marshall, they were at your beck and call. You had them wrapped around your finger, especially when you wore your flowy sundresses. Marshall was partial to your white one. The last time he had seen it, it was in a ball, on the floor of your bedroom, while he was fucking you senseless. Ironically, it was the night you wore this innocent little number that he had discovered what a freak you could be, happy that he had finally given in on the attraction. Your chemistry was off the charts and, looking back, he was surprised either of you had waited that long before sealing the deal. He kept on looking at you while you were talking to Denaun, remembering the view he had when he fucked you from behind and you were begging him to go harder. The memory almost gave him a boner and he wondered if you wearing the white dress was intentional, debating whether or not it should happen again. On the one hand, the sex had been so great only a fool would turn down the opportunity for more but, on the other, he didn’t want to make things complicated. The two of you were friends and you fit right within the group. If he slept with you again, you might get the wrong idea, catch feelings, and it would ruin the whole thing. The others wouldn’t forgive him either : they were all protective of you and they loved having you around, enjoying your sarcastic comments, terrific cooking skills and encouragements. He didn’t want to hurt you. Even though you weren’t nearly as innocent as the others imagined you were, you were a sweet little thing.

- I need to go and put these away, Denaun said as he gestured to the bags.

- You went shopping ? You asked.

- I think he’s got someone to impress, Marshall couldn’t help but grin.

- You mentioned something about fits and neutral colors, Denaun said as he royally ignored Marshall.

- Glad to know you take my advice, you giggled. Wait… is that the Dyptique candle I mentioned ?

- Figured it wouldn’t hurt to try a new smell for the house, he shrugged nervously. You were right. Peonies is a nice scent.

You giggled and pecked him on the cheek, happy to notice he was taking your advice. Marshall quietly stared as you brushed Denaun’s shoulder, mentioning something about his biceps being bigger. You being all touchy-feely wasn’t surprising, you were like that with everyone, but his friend was looking all flustered. That’s when he realized what should have been obvious : you were the girl Denaun was doing all of this for. Of all people in the group, the two of them were the guys you were closest with but he had never interpreted your friendship with Denaun to be more than that. He wasn’t too sure of how he felt about it, though. Did you hook up with him too ? Did he mistake some slutty behavior for some off the charts chemistry ? He frowned and kept to himself the whole afternoon, even when the others joined. He didn’t talk and, instead, paid attention to your every move. You were the flirty type, for sure. Always had been. But it was painfully obvious that Denaun was under your spell, making sure to make room for you on the couch, fluffing the pillow on your side, making sure you always had a glass in your hand. The worst part was that you didn’t even seem to realize it. How could you though ? You were used to all of them giving you the princess treatment all the time. It was like some magic power you had : whenever you walked into a room, you managed to turn gangsters into southern gentlemen. You did it gracefully, effortlessly, pecking their cheek, giving them nicknames and batting your eyelashes. Even himself was guilty of giving you a special treatment, falling victim to your « Hi handsome », spoken in your sultry voice that could draw anyone in. He was always soft with you. Everyone was. They were all whipped. You had often joked about not needing a boyfriend or husband because your rapper friends kept you happy, but now that it was obvious that Denaun had feelings, it was sad. The worst part about it is that he was protective, urging the others to put some respect on your name whenever they made some joke. His friend was a great guy, who obviously only had the best intentions, unlike himself whose actions towards you were more so driven by lust and desire. When everyone went home, he decided to confront Denaun.

- So… Y/N, huh ? He asked as he scratched his throat.

- Is it that obvious ? Denaun asked with a worried look on his face.

- I don’t know, he shrugged. Have you guys fucked around ?

- No, no, his friend assured him. She’s not like that. She’s a lady.

If only he knew the lady he was mentioning had been on her knees, weeks ago, begging for him to choke her. It was almost painful, at this point. If he had known of his friend’s feelings, he never would have given in on the attraction.

- Does she know ? He questioned. That you like her ?

- No, his friend sighed. I wanted to ask her out but… when she mentioned she wasn’t looking for anyone, I didn’t dare. Plus, I wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship.

- You really care, huh ?

- Man, I don’t want to sound corny or whatever but… I think I’m in love with her, his hype man confessed.

- In love ?! With Y/N ?! He almost gasped.

- Man, have you seen her ? Denaun asked. She’s so beautiful. And so nice to us. And for once, there’s a woman who sees us, praises us as emcees. She’s always hyping me up, I can talk to her about my own projects. Finally, there’s a woman who doesn’t only sees me as your hype man. No offense, bro. Love the job but… you know. Most of the time, you’re Eminem and we’re chopped liver. Y/N, she’s not like that. She treats us all the same.

He hummed and looked away, hoping he would be able to have a neutral expression. The last thing he needed was to crush his friend’s heart and tell him that, though you did treat them all the same most of the time, he had painted your walls white, weeks ago, and made you cry tears of pleasure, abusing each and every one of your walls, doing some nasty shit to you.

- I’ll tell her, eventually, he shrugged.

- About your feelings, you mean ? He asked.

- Yeah. I want to treat her right, give her what she deserves, his friend said with a smile. I’ve never met a girl like her. She’s special.

- That, she is, he agreed.

Marshall liked you. He liked you a lot. You always brightened his day, laughing at his stupid jokes, keeping him fed and down to earth, with your cooking and humor. You also kept him humble. There was nothing not to like about you, lovely person that you were and, in hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Denaun had fallen for you. And his friend was right : you did deserve the world, as well as a man who was willing to give it to you. Only he knew he couldn’t be that man. He didn’t want to, either. As great as you were, dating wasn’t in the cards and he knew it. He would have gladly enjoyed you as a friend with benefits but he couldn’t do that to Denaun. Not when his feelings were so sweet, so noble.

That night, for the first time, he didn’t reply right away when you texted him and he even found some lame excuse not to see you, when you asked if he wanted to come by your place. There was no way he could keep on fucking you and, with the chemistry the two of you shared, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he was alone with you. There was something terribly intoxicating about your pheromones and, whenever he was in your presence, he couldn’t see straight, only being able to focus on you, anything you did and said. You tried reaching out to him regularly but ended up giving up. The two of you crossed paths a couple of weeks later, when Denaun invited you to listen to some beats he’d made in his hope studio. When you walked in, everyone greeted you with a hug, as usual, except for Marshall, who was rather cold. You were extremely hurt that he would give you the cold shoulder, this behavior being so unlike him. So far, he had always been extremely warm towards you but now, you could feel him take a step back and it broke your heart. He ignored you for most of the day, even though you regularly glanced at him. He was acting normal with the others and you were the only one he was different with. When he went to the kitchen to grab a drink in the fridge, you followed him.

- Marshall ? You asked nervously.

- Mmmh ? He asked without so much as looking at you.

- Ahem… can we talk ?

- I should go back to the others, he replied coldly.

- Marsh, it’s sort of important, you pressed him. Can we go outside ?

- What is it ? He sighed.

- We need to talk about… you know… us, you babbled. I mean, what happened…

- There’s no us, he said immediately. Nothing happened.

- Are you serious ? You asked in disbelief.

- Just because I fucked you doesn’t mean there’s anything between us, Y/N, he said coldly. You don’t mean anything, alright ?!

You bit your lip, visibly flushed with embarrassment and overcome with sadness. Marshall stared at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Your face was crumbling but his was steady, unmoved. His gaze was cold, devoid of emotion. You scoffed and mumbled an « ok then » before turning and meeting Denaun’s gaze. He looked visibly hurt.

- I was coming to get you guys but, obviously, you have your own stuff, he said in a sad voice.

- Shit, bro, it-its not-, Marshall began.

- I don’t want to talk to you, man, Denaun replied.

You were about to say something, at least try and mumble an apology but, before you could get any word out of your mouth, you started feeling dizzy and nauseous. You ran to the nearest bathroom, tears in your eyes, holding your nonexistent stomach. So much for telling Marshall you wet pregnant, you guessed.

[jayden-killer]

YOU LOOK LONELY.. I CAN FIX THAT. (Miguel O'Hara AU!)

summary: Year 2099 and a new A.I. had been lanuched. He is called "Miguel" and he's here to comfort you in your most hard times. But, little you know, he's more than a A.I.

paring: Miguel O'Hara x F! Reader.

A/N: woah there, Detroit: Become Human and Blade Runner combined togheter? Why not, hehehe.

WHAT'S IT LIKE TO HOLD THE HAND TO SOMEONE? INTERLINKED.

DID THEY TEACH YOU HOW TO FEEL FINGER TO FINGER? INTERLINKED.

DO YOU DREAM ABOUT BEING INTERLINKED?

INTERLINKED.

Year 2099. Bright neon leons illuminated the streets, high skyscrapers were imposing themselves, showing on their huge advertising screens and weather forecast. It was night, and the air smelled of smog. She always believed that all those air purifiers wouldn't be very effective. But now it didn’t matter, because among the crowd of people in the street she walked with her head down, tired eyes that seemed off. Next to her, dozens, no, many more people, ready to start their weekend. They planned to go to nightclubs, drink, have sex, or do something she didn't care about. She heard their laughter in the background, and he could clearly see some guys pushing each other, laughing, and joking in the corner of his eye. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get to her house. Then she gave himself a push and marched more quickly, because she could no longer. She wished to put an end to the terrible sadness in her heart.

"I'm home".

The moment she walked across the threshold of her house the lights went on, lighting up the living room and kitchen. She breathed deeply and threw out the excess oxygen accumulated, also expelling the tension she had accumulated in the day. She looked around, and calmly placed the bag on her raw coffee table until she heard some sweets in the house, yet heavy steps. Her eyebrows leapt up and a smile, a soft smile, fell on her face.

"Miguel," said his name softly. "You’re here."

"I am always here, dear. Ven aquì". The man smiled back and extended his arms in her direction. She didn’t waste any time holding him to herself. Miguel tilted his head to the side and a confused expression landed on his face. " I can feel your heartbeat, and your blood pressure is 61 mmHg. What’s going on, dear?" Miguel’s arms touched her gently, almost as if she were a fragile doll, caressing her hips. Her eyes shone.

"I just missed you, my love" she answered quietly, never stopping looking into his reddish, brown eyes. "That's all".

"I want to help you, mi sol, how can I?"

Miguel blinked, genuinely worried about his partner’s health. He gave her a rough hand in her soft hair and continued to caress her. She stared at him with those eyes that showed true love, felt, and felt good because now it was just her and her Miguel. It was just the two of them in his house while the world was doing who knows what beyond those walls. He sighed, and nodded, answering Miguel’s question. "Oh, no, I’m fine. I just missed you so much".

"I’m here, mi flor, I’m here," he repeated once again, bringing his body to him, a hug that Miguel really felt. His heart pompo more, feeling so close to him the person who had immediately shown him kindness, sweetness. The warmth that emanated from his loved one was comfortable. It was all true for him.

"Do you want to watch a movie? In exactly eight minutes, they’re gonna broadcast the "Bicentennial Man". It’s your favorite movie, right?" Miguel smiled at her, grabbing her hand and gently sitting her down on the sofa. She did not take her eyes off him for a moment: his tall, imposing figure, with large shoulders and trained arms, but she only saw a sweet man who needed great affection. He was perfect in every way.

"Of course I do, but only if you will be next to me to pamper me".

"Absolutely". Miguel landed lightly on the sofa and took a breath. With a gesture of the hand, the television went on, and the channel was rolled into the desired one with a single finger move. The girl got much closer to the man, cuddling up to him, resting her temple on his huge muscular arm. Miguel spent no time surrounding his beloved with that arm, bringing her closer to him. The two remained there, enjoying their presence, occasionally discussing the development of the film, a film that she had reviewed over and over again.

It was now night, the hologram of the clock marked 12.12 am. Miguel’s eyes fell on the figure of his beloved then sleeping companion. He calculated his breath and his heartbeats, and everything seemed normal to him. He was just resting quietly. He understood that his day had been intense, without her telling him, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Because over time he had learned to respect the needs of humans. He had become accustomed to their habits, or rather, to the habits of the one who had welcomed him to his house, without treating him as a slave, without showing racism towards him, just because he was a robot. Yet, he felt real every time he touched himself in the face, fingering his facial features. Every morning it was the same. Her arms picked her up, taking care not to wake her. She looked like an angel, he thought, admiring her as if she really was. How could human beings be such beautiful creatures, so deadly?

"Door, please," he muttered. The door to his room opened like a curtain, closing behind him. She walked calmly to her bed, then rested it on the warm mattress she had heated for her. He pulled the blanket up, and he watched her sleep for a few more minutes. She couldn’t believe it, she was the most beautiful creature he’d seen.

"Rest, my love. I’ll be here with you tomorrow too," he smiled, laying a subtle, soft kiss on her lips. His artificial heart blew, even more, even more the liquid that was contained in his circuits. He lowered the shutters and warmed the home environment a little more. Leaving the room, Miguel headed for his post, where he would recharge for the following day.

"Model 70868". This was what was written horizontally on his desk. He was not comfortable with it. He didn’t feel like a simple robot, something built to serve mankind and satisfy it fully. He didn’t feel like a machine.

"I want to be human".

[theweightofakiteofdreamsingold]

Promise (1) – J. Kiszka

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mature themes, virgin reader, teary-eyed Josh, fluff, unprotected sex (almost), oral sex (fem receiving) (almost), language, MINORS DNI

A/N: All these posts circulating about Josh leaning into people’s hands while they held him in Detroit inspired this fic. It’s gonna be some softie, first-time-ever smut with Josh, the V-card thief. 🥹

Bajabule,

-Han

“Is that thunder?” you asked, pausing to listen for the faint grumbling in the distance.

Josh paused to listen as well, his deep brown eyes fixed on the ever-darkening clouds above you. “I think so, but I didn’t see any lightning.”

The wind had started to pick up along the river where you and Josh had been kayaking with Jake, Sam, and Danny. You watched Josh as he paddled over to a big rock that was close to the bank, taking hold of it to still himself against the tugging current of the river. He looked up at the sky again, his brows furrowed in concentration.

After a moment, he paddled back out to you and the rest of the boys. “Looks like whatever this is is moving this way toward us. We should probably head out.”

The boys all muttered in agreement, and you all began to paddle downstream to look for a place to get out of the water. You’d been out on the river for at least half the day, but you were still bummed to have to go. Being with Josh and his brothers always lightened your mood.

You’d been seeing Josh for a few months now, and things seemed to be moving in a good direction. You spent a lot of time with him doing mundane things; going shopping at more farmer’s markets than you’d ever been to, visiting more record shops than you knew existed, and just keeping each other company when you had nothing else to do.

Josh was also a huge film enthusiast, so the two of you spent an abundant amount of time curled up on his couch watching movies of so many genres while Josh shared his thoughts on each one in real-time. You loved hearing him share how his mind worked, and you felt lucky to be able to have a peek at how he processed information. He was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, but it never felt intimidating to you. His brain and his heart ran on the same track, and everything he did and said was coming from a place filled with love.

Josh was tentative and understanding. He was soft. He had moments where you definitely questioned his thought processes, and he could be extremely impulsive and wild, but if the situation ever called for maturity, all of his antics disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Josh called, “you okay?”

Your brain caught up to your surroundings, and you never realized how far behind you’d fallen. You looked around you, and all the boys were a solid ten yards ahead of you.

“Yep, I’m- I’m good,” you called back, hastening the pace of your strides until you made up a little ground. Danny and Sam shared a tandem kayak, while you and the twins each had your own sit-ons, freeing up a set of hands to carry Josh’s kayak while he carried yours. You watched him as he shifted the weight of it over his head as he walked, watching the taut muscles of his arms as he did so.

Once you had all made it to where the cars were parked, the boys began securing everyone’s kayaks and paddles for the trip back home. Just as soon as they started on the first one though, you heard a monotonous rustling of the leaves in the woods around you. As the sound grew louder, you realized that it was rain, and that it was moving in a lot quicker than any of you had anticipated.

When it reached the lot of you, it was falling from the sky in a steady, but extremely heavy downpour. They boys made quick work of the rest of the kayaks, and before you knew it, you were all in your cars waving goodbye to each other behind tinted glass.

You were in Josh’s Jeep truck, shivering in the passenger seat as his hands moved swiftly over the temperature controls, doing his best to warm you up as quickly as he could.

As the shock of the cold rain wore off, you looked over at him and had to fight to keep your jaw from hanging slack. The usually puffy curls of his mullet sat closer to his head now in dripping ringlets. The water from his hair dripped onto his forehead and you watched the droplets make paths down the bridge of his nose to its tip before collecting together and dropping off, only to be caught by the pointed crests of his lips. The rest of his face glistened from being directly hit by the rain outside. You let your eyes travel down his neck which also glistened in what was left of the dim daylight to his shirt that was completely soaked through. You’d never thought anything of the fact that he practically lived in white shirts until now, and you couldn’t say you were disappointed in his color choice. You could see the curves of the muscles in his chest, more prominent now because of the cotton fabric that clung to his chilled skin. You wanted nothing more than to peel off his shirt and run your hands over his body; just to bask in him.

The thoughts running through your mind sent pangs of anxiety straight to your stomach. You’d never felt a yearning this strong for anyone you’d been with, but the fear of what he would say or how he would react to the fact that you were still a virgin overpowered your need for him.

You sat in the passenger side of his truck fighting an internal battle between reality and what you wanted with every fiber of your being. Your mind talked itself in circles the majority of the way back to his house. As he pulled into the driveway, you wondered what sort of thoughts were running through his mind.

At some point on the drive to his house, the rain had stopped, but you didn’t notice until the truck was shifted into park. Josh got out and came around to open your door for you. After he opened it, he paused, a grin spreading across his still-shiny face; his teeth shining in the light of the moon while the darkness hid most of the rest of his features.

“Come on, mama. Let’s get you warm and dry, huh?”

He offered his hand to you, and you took it, following him up the front steps to the door. As soon as the two of you were inside, Josh went on a hunt for towels and washcloths. He emerged from the hall with bath linens in one arm and a sweatshirt and a pair of boxer shorts in the other. His hair had started to dry, but the same couldn’t be said for his clothes.

“Here. I thought you might wanna take a hot shower to warm up, and I can dry your clothes for you if you want.” His brown eyes were sap-sweet and sparkling at you, his lips tilting up and a small smile.

“I’d love that so much,” you said quietly. “You’re the sweetest.” He handed you the towels and clothes, and you padded off to the bathroom.

Once you’d stripped off your wet clothes, you turned the water as hot as it would go, and you stepped inside. The air immediately felt thick from the dense moisture of the scalding water, and you welcomed it into your lungs, letting the water consume you entirely.

You heard the door of the bathroom creak, and you froze, naked and hot, under the shower head. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Josh’s shadow through the thick plastic and second decorative shower curtains. His figure paused for a moment before picking up your pile of wet clothes and leaving the bathroom to toss them in the dryer.

Your heart beat faster the more you thought about the way he paused a moment before. You let your mind drift into what could have happened. He could have waited there. Waiting for you. You could have opened the shower curtain, wordlessly inviting him in. You could have had him right there if you had just done it. Just ripped off the band aid and opened that shower curtain. But you couldn’t. You were scared. Of what, you had no idea.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After your shower, you towel-dried your hair and ran your fingers through it to get out the tangles. You slipped on the sweatshirt and boxer shorts he gave you, feeling apprehensive about not having any underwear while they tumbled in the dryer with the rest of your clothes. A heavy scent of sandalwood and patchouli wafted into your nose and made your chest feel warm. You took a deep breath, pushing your nerves as far down as possible before exiting the bathroom and walking up the hall to find Josh flipping through movies on TV.

“How do you feel?” he asked, “Warmer?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile before plopping yourself down beside him on the couch. He leaned back, one hand resting on the top of your thigh while he looked at you.

You watched his fingertips gently draw circles on your freshly warmed skin while his eyes trailed over your entire body, his lips turning up into another soft grin.

“What?” you asked, a smile spreading across your own lips in return.

His dark eyes flicked up to your face and he huffed a bit of air through his nose before he spoke, “I just really like the way you look in my underwear.”

You both giggled and you replied, “Well I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

He gave your thigh a little squeeze before moving his hand further up your leg. “I mean, there’s always another option,” he said, giving you an exaggerated look.

You rolled your eyes and grinned as he shifted next to you.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he asked, focusing back on your leg.

“Mhm.”

“What were you thinking about on the way home?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you’re usually never quiet like that. I figured something was going on. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You paused, wanting to tell him that your were fine, but the images of him sitting soaking wet beside you in the truck and standing in the bathroom, coupled with figmented images of him between your legs and pressed against your chest flashed through your mind, and you found yourself speaking without realizing what you were saying.

You noticed that your breath felt heavy as you tried to stop the river of words that flowed from your mouth.

“I just want- I- I don’t know how to-.” You stumbled and tripped through fragments of thoughts.

You immediately felt his hands gently holding the sides of your face, his eyes warm and welcoming to you as he spoke, coaxing you to speak through your fear. “Tell me, sweet baby,” he purred, “What do you want?”

You swallowed hard. “You.”

His thumbs swept across the crests of your cheekbones. “You’ve already got me, baby.”

“No. Not- not like that,” you said, your voice moving into a whisper.

His lips sat parted as he processed what you were telling him. After a moment, he spoke. “How come you didn’t say anything before?”

“Because I’m fucking scared,” you said, an unintentional chuckle escaping mid-word.

“Of me?”

“No,” you started, the word a little more exaggerated than you meant for it to be, “not like you’d do something to me, I was just nervous to tell you that-.” You watched his brow furrow as he tilted his head, anxiously waiting for you to finish your sentence. “That I’ve never- I’m-.”

Every single feature of his face softened and you could have sworn you could see a tear or two in his eyes. His hands slid up your cheeks as he rested his thumbs against your temples with his other fingers in your hair, and he pulled you to his mouth in a needy kiss. He completely enveloped your bottom lip, lightly sucking it further into his mouth before he ran his tongue along its edge. His hands slightly tightened in your hair, gently pulling on the roots, making you shift against him, wanting more.

You slipped your arms around his neck and moved to sit in his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. He pulled you closer, taking a hand from your hair and smoothing it over your back as he artfully slipped his tongue between your parted lips. He continued with his tongue until you broke the kiss, pulling back from his mouth and taking a big breath.

His eyes stayed trained on you the entire time as you heaved against him. He leaned back up into you and touched the tip of his nose to yours.

“You’re sure you want this?” he panted, his voice thick and raspy.

“Yes,” you breathed back, your hands resting on the waistband of his sweatpants.

You felt his arms wrap around you and scoop you up, walking you down the hall to the master bedroom.

He carefully sat you on the end of the bed, and you quickly found his waistband again. You could see the bulge in his sweatpants from where his cock was pressed against the thick fabric. You swallowed hard as you hooked your fingers around the band and pulled down, watching the tip of his solid cock hit his lower stomach.

You felt a warm sensation spread between your legs as you marveled at him, noting the pronounced indentations of his hips and the length and girth of his cock. You squeezed your legs together as thoughts of how deep inside you he would be able to reach filled your head, making your pussy throb just by the sight of him. “Fuck,” you muttered, barely audible.

He gingerly tilted your head up to look at him. “What’s wrong, mama?”

“Nothing,” you said, swallowing hard again, “you’re j-just really f-fucking big. What- what do we do if it doesn’t fit?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and but down on it softly, unsuccessfully hiding a smug grin. “It’ll fit. I promise.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, dramatically glancing from his face, down to his cock, and back up again.

His hands reached down and held your hips, swiftly lifting them up, laying you out on your back. You yelped at the quick movement and propped yourself up on your elbows. Josh hooked his fingers into the waistband of the boxer shorts you were wearing, his eyes trained on yours, waiting.

Your eyes widened, not sure of what was happening. He bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach before lifting his head just enough to be able to look up at you. You moaned at the sight of his soft brown eyes looking at you from between your legs; a sight that had been plaguing your mind for some time. He looked even more beautiful doing it in real life than you could have ever imagined.

“Lemme get you ready, mama. Let you cum in my mouth so you can get a taste for it? Hm? Lemme get a taste for you at the same time?” He punctuated his last question with a series of sloppy kisses to the insides of your thighs.

“Oh my God, Josh,” you breathed.

“Can I take that as a ‘yes?’”

“Yes.”

He immediately tugged the boxers down your legs and tossed them into the floor. He stooped down to stand on his knees in front of you, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed again. He gently laid your legs over his shoulders and leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath on your heat. He paused there, his big brown eyes locking with yours again. “Listen close,” he started, “You want me to stop at any time, you stop me, okay?”

You nodded, your eyes wide again.

“Promise me, mama.”

“I promise.”

[thatsdemko]

Woodward avenue - p. o’ward

masterlist

pairing: pato o’ward x fem!reader

warnings: talks of Detroit(but I’m from here) + minor anxious thoughts + implications of the future

a/n: I was the target audience for this fic 😅 so enjoy my self indulged fic! xx

the automotive business wouldn’t be what it was without Detroit. pato knows that, it’s why he’s wandered the streets of downtown Detroit, to pay his respect to those workers who created the business they have today. without Detroit, there couldn’t have been an Indy car, nascar, or even formula one. the automative business bloomed here, and now Indy car will race it’s straights and turns once again.

he’s not one to wander too far from the track, but the graffiti on the buildings and the smell of chili brewing grew his curiosity. he wandered the streets, and now began to wish he didn’t go alone. it wasn’t a scary city, he’s seen far worse, he’s now lost looking up at the Woodward street sign.

not a helpful soul roams the streets, just the drunk homeless man who mutters words to himself that are completely useless with directions. he’s lost hope, as he knows he’s got to be at the track in thirty minutes.

“let me guess, you wandered too far down Woodward?” your voice startled him. he turns around to see you standing there, an annoyed look on your face. you didn’t hate that indy car was back in Detroit, but you did hate the obnoxious sounds of the engines that interrupted your morning and afternoon.

“something like that.” he shoves his phone into his back pocket following you down the street. you weren’t too inviting to him, but he needed a way back to his motorhome, and he was sure by now people were beginning to be suspicious of his whereabouts.

“you a fan?” you point to the mclaren shirt, an automotive company you were well familiar with seeing. the cars were too expensive to be outsourced from Detroit, but your fathers dedication and passion to the fancy cars, helped you single him out on the street.

“a driver actually. and I need to be on the grid in thirty minutes.” he checks his watch nervously hoping you’re not leading him to a sketchy parking lot or a white van, but he somehow knew he could trust you. maybe it was the fans and the news casts that made him believe all Detroit native were good people, but he could certainly say he was weary about you.

“oh, a driver? my dad would be so jealous right now, he loves Indy 500– or whatever is filling up these streets.” you gesture to Woodward, closed down until the Grand Prix was done. it pissed more than half a dozen people, but you got a good view from your apartment of the circuit.

“Indy cars, actually, but you get the gist.” he heaves out a chuckle under his breath.

you take the chance to glance over at the man you were helping. your morning walk to get coffee was interrupted by a strangers confusion in his eyes, you were instantly drawn to help him.

two pieces of the mop of brown hair fall just above his eyes, the ones that lured you in. you look back over to the street when his eyes flicker to meet yours. you smell the burnt rubber, tires burning against the shitty pavement of Detroit.

“so first time here?” you ask, out of the corner of your eyes you see him nod, “yeah, actually. I was just trying to take in the city and got a little too lost.” he replies, rubbing the nape of his neck with his fingers.

he takes a look at you now, lips formed in a soft smile as the cool breeze lifts your hair off your back. you love this city, and he can tell by the wave you give to the local drivers who stop.

“who’s this? a new boyfriend?” an elder man pulls to the side of the street pointing out pato. the man knows your kindness runs too far, but seeing the McLaren shirt he knows why you’ve helped him in the first place.

“he drives, and he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m pato.” the man waves from behind you to the driver in the car, your dads best friend who nods, smile widening on his face.

“indeed you are my friend. good luck out there!”

you watch his car drive away, before you turn to man beside you, “pato? I like that name.” you gesture for him to continue to follow and he does, allowing you to take the lead like the last time.

“it’s short for patricio, but I don’t know your name, you know?” he looks over at you, brown eyes glimmering in the sun that begins to increase in temperature as you continue to walk.

“y/n.” you stop pointing to the barriers that begin to line the sidewalks, “and I’m afraid this is where we part ways. if you follow the path you’ll find the entrance. good luck today and tomorrow.” you point to the barriers that line the sidewalks and the stands that you see in the distance.

“what would you say to me inviting you and your dad tomorrow? you said he’s a big fan, I’d love to have him in my garage.” his offer excites you, but you know what your father would say. offering a strange man a walk throughout the city, and then an invite to the McLaren garage? he’d think you’d gotten drop kicked on the sidewalk.

“I don’t know, he’ll question why you aren’t my boyfriend—“

“then tell him I am. what’s he got to know?” he smirks watching you open and close your mouth a couple of times.

“he knows you’re pato o’ward and if I was dating pato o’ward and didn’t tell him I’d be the worst daughter ever.”

“then you’re not dating pato o’ward. you’re dating just pato. the guy you met on Woodward.”

—

“dad, this is pato. I met him on Woodward yesterday—“

your dad scoff cuts you off, and he happily shakes the drivers hand, “pato o’ward, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m impressed with your work.” he beams with excitement, a thrill that runs through the drivers body knowing he’s made somebody proud today despite his finish.

“thank you, sir. your daughter helped me out a lot yesterday.” he flashes you a wink, one that your dad doesn’t catch because he’s too busy taking in all the mechanics, cars, and other sights in the garage. you couldn’t believe pato did this for you, matter of fact, for your dad. the man who got you into racing in the first place.

“you know, you come here again I can show you around all the auto factories? y/n can show you downtown Detroit— you know what you didn’t see.”

you laugh at your dads excitement reminding him pato has better things to do. he’s got a busy schedule, and racing came first. you spent a couple of hours last night doing your research on the Indy car driver, he wasn’t interested in much else beside racing.

“dad, he wouldn’t want to come back here I’m sure—“

“there you go again, assuming you know me.” pato tsks you shaking his head, that same smirk that drove you insane all last night forms on his lips, “sir, when can I come back? I’d love to join you and y/n.”

“I like you, pato. have you ever thought about dating anyone? my y/n is perfect for you.” you watch your dad pull pato aside, arm wrapped around his shoulders as he talks highly of you.

you just roll your eyes in embarrassment watching pato look over his shoulders and send you a wink. the universe works in mysterious ways, and you can’t believe it led you to pato o’ward on Woodward, the man you can now call your boyfriend.

[heeversee]

Heeversee Presents ✨

Yander Au

Chapter 01

Genre: dark romance

Mention of blood.

yander, obsessed, mafia, Stalker heeseung.

Damn it's a lot. For my anons who requested me to add all these in one. So here it is.

Please leave if you're uncomfortable with all these things.

Spotify playlist

Criminal love (by enhypen)

The night we met (by lord Huron)

Chaccone (by enhypen)

Do I wanna know (by Arctic monkeys)

Given-taken (by enhypen)

Maniac (by stray kids)

Gasoline (by Halsey)

(⁠/⁠¯⁠◡⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠◡⁠)⁠/⁠¯⁠ ⁠~⁠ ⁠┻⁠━⁠┻............乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ

You gasp

"what is happening here" you watch with your favourite sketch book burning.

"ohhh dear dear, my hand slipped" you heard a very annoying voice.

You silently pick your half burnt sketch book and glare at the bunch of dumb heads who bully you.

Bulling wasn't new for you. You were bullied all along your school life. Even now in your workplace.

And suddenly one day you found yourself not wanting to go to work. You were tired of fighting with the bullies, after a week of thinking about your detroiting mental health you decided to give your resignation letter and live your life.

3 months later

The bells jingle indicating above your head as your enter your safe place, the art shop. The smell of panits and canvas lingering in the air.

You took everything you needed but the last thing that was missing was red paint. You went to the paint corner to find a single tube of big red paint lying on the top shelf.

You run towards the shelf trying to reach the tube, you felt warmth on your back and a very veiny hand reaching the tube. You turn to see a tall man with his face covered by hoodie. All you could see was looming dark shadow.

"umm can I take that" you muttered pointing out the red tube.

The hooded man took a sharp breath which sacred you thinking that you could have made him angry

"ummm, I'm sorry. It's okay, it's okay I'll find the paint in another store" I laughed akwardly.

He suddenly held my hand and handed me the tube.

I tilt my head "can I take it?" I question softly

He nods his head once and that was enough to make me smile for once in last three months.

I bowed, thanking him and left the shop after billing.

Heeseung

He watches you walking to your apartment. Heeseung quickly reach to his room and watching you through the window, exactly opposite of your apartment He watchs you twirl around in your space happily.

That's all heeseung has done.

Watch.

All he has done is watching you from afar. He wishes to kiss you, hold you into his arms, cook for you, buy you paint and watch you paint for hours. But all he has done is watch you from afar.

*distant muffling sounds*

"ahh" he sighs. "I totally forgot about you" he turns around and pulls out a sword hanging on the wall. He unsheaths the sword and the dried blood covering the entire sword.

He watches the girls who bullied you tied up with their mouth stiched witch thick red wire. Blood flowing from their mouths as they cry.

"let's see.... What do i add in my collection now...." He swirls the sword.

"your blood" heeseung laughs like a maniac after killing the three girls.

He collects the blood in a long tube.

As he walks to the window blood pooling in his room. He orders the men standing beside the door to clean and dispose the bodies

He closes the cap and watches you paint the canvas red from his window.

"maybe I'll gift it to you someday. My little one."

Idk how to actually feel about this. I'm still thinking about what twist to make in this series.

A new day a new me 😂

I hope you all like this.

Fuck I'm so nervous.

Thank you for you all anons for comforting me. I hope to live a long life.

Thank you and love you 🎀🪐

[not-neverland06]

Broken Machinery

Epilogue  (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: Roses symbolize forgiveness. 

 I started this story because I thought, if I actually want to start sharing my writing maybe I should start by writing something I don’t really care about. A throwaway story, so if people don’t like it, it won’t hurt me. Ten chapters later and 43.8k (and then some) words later, here we are. I love these characters, and its actually insane how the story developed. It felt like they were telling it through me, that it was the detective and Connor writing not me. I get what fanfiction writers mean now when they say it's hard to keep ‘Y/N’ a blank slate, it’s nearly impossible to stop a unique personality from growing. 

Thanks for making it this far, and thanks for taking care of them. 

“We’ve got to get you something other than flowers.”

“I have clothes.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Yeah! Hank’s clothes, because you refuse to let me buy you any, for some weird reason.”

Connor gave you a deadpan expression, “I like my flowers.” 

You waved him off, “I know, but I want you to be able to put your own touch on the place Connor. I don’t feel like you live here, I feel like you’re couch surfing.” Connor stood up from the couch and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I’m still figuring out what ‘my touch’ is, Y/N, just be patient with me.” You pulled away and frowned.

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Connor. I just want you to feel like this is home.”

Connor smiled and leaned down, pressing a quick kiss against your lips. He pulled back quickly, knowing it was too easy for the both of you to get swept up in your love. Hank would be coming over with Sumo and Carla for dinner soon, he didn’t need him walking in on you two again. The last couple of times were so embarrassing for you, you hadn’t let Connor touch you for a whole week. 

He rubbed his thumb across your cheek, he could never grow tired of staring into your eyes. “You are my home, anywhere you are, is home to me. I don’t need a bunch of stuffed animals or knick knacks to know that.” He smiled, “You were my home before I even knew what that meant.” 

Tears lined your eyes and you let your head fall into his neck, “This mascara is really expensive, do not make me cry.” He laughed and squeezed you tighter. 

“Come on, they’ll be here soon. We should set the table.” You nodded and managed to steal one last kiss before you went off to go set the table. 

Connor looked out the kitchen window, out towards the garden. 

He had ripped out all the weeds, repainted the fence and planted each of the flowers. 

A warm feeling filled him as he stared at his favorite, a lone black dahlia surrounded by roses. 

“Connor,” he turned towards you. Hank had arrived while he was staring out at the garden. Carla behind him, holding Sumo’s leash. You were all waiting for him. He left the dahlia behind and made his way towards you. 

Towards his family.

Towards home. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Detroit: Become Human, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[ladylooch]

What would Nico do when his girl is drunk af and they’re going home from a team party and he’s taking care of you??

I’m thinking a lil something like this:

If you're being honest, you're a whole lot sloppy tonight.

If it wasn't for Nico's arm tightly gripping your waist, you would have fallen over multiple times on the walk home. After your latest sway, you start to giggle, turning to wrap your arms around Nico and bury your face into his arm.

"Babe, we are almost home." He murmurs into your hair, stopping because you're making both of you lean over with your dead weight against him. He turns so you are resting against his chest, rubbing along your back with his palms. "Come on. A few more steps."

"It's at least 100 more steps." You mumble, placing your chin on his sternum to look up at him. He's blurry in your vision but his grin is crystal clear. Damn, he is fucking hot tonight. You remember he is leaving tomorrow and you feel instant dread fill your chest. "I miss you." You moan, eyes squeezing shut then popping back open when you feel his lips against you.

"I'm right here."

"Yeah, but you're leaving me tomorrow. And I'm gonna be so hungover. Who's going to love me?"

"I'll take care of you as long as I can. We are flying to Detroit so it's a later flight." He assures, urging you to start walking again.

You unintentionally fight Nico every single step the rest of the night. When you get to your apartment, you want to sit down in the hallway. In your closet, you struggle to get your clothes off until Nico removes them all himself. He rushes into the bathroom to hold your hair back when you're positive you're going to puke. Then, when you don't, he picks your tired body up and brings you to bed.

You've barely hit the sheets before you're whining for him, missing the safety of his touch. In bed, you're an absolute chatterbox, speaking every fleet thought that dances through your buzzed brain. Nico is quiet, listening and chuckling, until you give him a moment of silence to speak.

"I love you so much." He tells you while brushing his lips over yours. "And you're going to be wrecked in the morning."

"Mhm." You agree. "Why did you let me do tequila?"

"Like I could have stopped you? I tried to take the last one away and you literally slapped my arm. At least you didn't fight me when I grabbed you from shaking your ass on the bar." He gives your butt a light tap. Oh god, was that real? You definitely thought you hallucinated that.

"Sorry." You mumble, feeling the heaviness of your eyelids overtake your willpower to keep them open. "I'll make it up to you."

"It's okay. I enjoy taking care of you, love." You force your eyes back open, wanting to see the way he looks at you one more time.

"Wow, you're in love with me." You mumble, running your hand through his hair, then resting it on his neck. " 'M so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one. Sleep, baby. I'll be here for you in the morning."

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would love to see some TFA swindle soft vore with a Gn!human <3

Thanks for the request, anon! Here it is! TFA Swindle is so silly, I love how funky he looks. Just a fun salesman who definitely has never broken any laws :D

Deal Or No Deal

Pairing: TFA Swindle x Gn!human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 3230

Summary: After accepting a job as an errand runner for a local arms dealer, you are tasked with sneaking into a warehouse located in an old Detroit harbor freight yard and stealing a piece of Decepticon weaponry. Things go wrong when a certain money-hungry mech catches you red-handed and decides he is in charge of you’re fate.

You hate your job.

  “It’ll be quick and easy.” You quietly hype yourself up as you walk past various decrepit buildings, your steps bouncing off of their walls and echoing around you, creating an ominous phenomenon in which it sounds like someone is following in your wake. Too many times you’ve glanced back just to make sure your imagination was simply running wild and you were truly alone.

  “Just get in, find the piece, and get out.” You reach into your pants pocket and pull out the crumpled map of the freight yard. This part of the harbor is an unsavory neighborhood, too dated to be put to use, yet too expensive to gut and start anew. Thus, it’s trapped in a standstill, with local black market meetings happening frequently and without a hitch. Illegal materials are typically stored here too, due to the perfect real estate; not even the police are aware of how important this place really is.

  Tonight, you will be finding one of those exact materials…and you will be stealing it.

  “No problem. It’s no problem.” You study the map one last time, then tuck it away. “Find the prize. Get it to the boss. Easy. It’ll be fine.”

  You aren’t a thief. Well, you weren’t a thief until now. But you're low on cash, and the threat of going broke is just too high. You don’t want to be out on the streets, so you went down a rough road: you’ve become an errand runner for hire. A local arms dealer wants you to smuggle an extremely powerful weapon out of the freight yard and into his hands. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he had told you. “A cannon left behind by those Cybertronian-whatevers. It’s alien. And I want it.”

  The amount of money he offered to pay you was too much for you to resist. So here you are, against your better judgment, robbing one horrible person for the benefit of another.

  Well, you don’t know if this other person you're stealing from is horrible. The only information given to you about them was where they keep their goods. But judging from the fact that they’re directly contributing to Detroit’s crime rate, you have to assume they’re pretty terrible.

  And so am I. You wince when you think about it. I’m no better. I’m a coward who can’t even land a real job.

  No time to pity yourself. You chose this profession. There’s no chance for you to go back on it. At least after you complete this job, maybe you can return to some semblance of a normal life…if you aren’t arrested and sent to prison, that is.

  The warehouse you are looking for sits right on the edge of the harbor. It’s massive, with shoddy wooden walls riddled with graffiti and sheets of cheap metal nailed to cover up holes. Standing before it now, you feel a shiver go down your spine. Definitely the creepiest place in Detroit, this building is.

  Drawing in a deep breath, you head for the large sliding doors. One of them is just barely open. It’s enough space for you to slip through.

  Inside, it’s dark. There are lights above, but there is no sign of a switch, and even if there was, you doubt they’d turn on. The warehouse is filled with giant boxes: crate after crate stacked upon each other, some of them reaching so high, you have to wonder just who the hell is in charge of this operation. It’s quiet. You remain still, holding your breath to listen for any signs of activity, like guards or people bringing in recent shipments.

  Nothing.

  Somehow, that causes you to be on edge even more.

  You really, really hate your job.

  According to your employer, the Cybertronian weapon is stored in a special crate marked with a Decepticon insignia. It’s one of a kind, so it should be relatively easy to find. You just have to hope it can be reached. As you tread lightly through the warehouse and peer up at the towers of storage, you're suddenly afraid you might have your first experience with using a forklift tonight.

  Thankfully, luck seems to be on your side. You come across the crate quickly; it’s set up in the corner of the building, nestled between other boxes so it can be obscured. You only spot it because you know what you're looking for. The Decepticon symbol peeks out at you revealingly, like it wants to be found.

  Jackpot, you think. Pushing the other boxes away, you grab your crowbar from your belt and wedge it between the crate’s cover.

  For a moment, you pause. A nervous idea of this possibly being a trap crosses your mind, but then you dismiss it. There’s no way anyone could have known you were coming. You and your boss were alone that night when you discussed this plan. Grunting, you force the crate open. Wood cracks as the cover springs up. Excitement fills you when you eagerly peek inside.

  Your heart drops.

  There’s nothing there. It’s empty.

  “Nononono.” You frantically sift your hands through the packing peanuts, but to no avail. The crate is devoid of anything but styrofoam.

  You stumble back dazedly and press your hand to your head. This is a trap. Someone did know you were coming. But how? And who?

  Low, steady thumping answers you.

  It sounds like footsteps. No, they are footsteps. Heavy, boot-like pounding against the floor is accompanied by a large shadow casting over you. Suddenly, the warehouse lights blaze on. You have to shield your eyes to avoid earning a headache.

  “Well, well, well,” a voice says. “What do we have here?”

  You blink and lower your hands. Standing in front of you, towering above the stacks of crates, is a giant robot with dull golden armor and purple eyes. He gives you an easygoing smile and speaks with the same smooth voice you heard before. “And why might you be here, little mouse?”

  You gape at him with no words you can say. The robot chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. “Didn’t find what you were looking for?” He inclines his head to the crate. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s not your fault. I knew your boss was going to make a move for the cannon way before he decided to send you for it.”

  “I-I-uh-” you stammer.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “G-Giant…r-robot.”

  His smile widens and he raises a brow. “That’s what I am. The proper term would be Cybertronian, though.”

  “Y-You're one of them.” Your eyes flicker to the scowling symbol on his chest. “You're a Decepticon.”

  “Technically, yes. However, I consider myself a Decepticon in name only. I wear this badge as a sign of partnership with my best customers.”

  “Customers?” you echo.

  “Right. Guess I should introduce myself.” The mech extends his arms in an open greeting. “The name’s Swindle. I run a tight business of weapons selling, weapons building, weapons trading…basically, if you want something that’ll make your enemies go boom, I’m the guy you want to call. And you, little mouse, are currently stealing from me.”

  You look around you. “Wait. So this…all of this…is yours?”

  “Yup. It’s quite the haul, isn’t it? This loot is going to be spread all across Detroit to different buyers, Cybertronian or not. I don’t discriminate, you see. If you have the means to pay for it, I can get it for you. Earth is a violent place, little mouse. And where there’s violence, there’s money to be made.”

  A compartment slides open from his chest. He reaches into it and pulls out a large gray cannon with the Decepticon coat of arms on its side. “This is what you came here for, right?” Swindle says. “Your boss wants it so he can blast a bunch of banks open.”

  You swallow hard and nod.

  “Let me ask you this.” He drops the cannon back in. The compartment closes, and he crouches down to get more on your level. “Do you think I like it when people steal from me?”

  “I-I didn’t steal from you!” you answer.

  “You were going to.”

  “But I didn’t!”

  “You had the intention, and that counts.” He shrugs. “I’m what you humans call a cool cat, kid. I do business and I go on with my life. But when I find little mice snooping around my warehouse, trying to take things that don’t belong to them…” His gaze darkens and he bares his teeth. “I decide it’s time to show my claws.”

  You take a nervous step back. “I-I’m sorry! I really am! But I had no choice! I-I need this job! I need the money!”

  For a moment, he simply studies you. Then he leans back into the calm attitude from before, and grins. “Hm. What if I were to offer you a deal?”

  It takes you a moment to register what he just said. “A deal?” you say. “Why would you want to make a deal with me? I just tried stealing from you!”

  “I know. Trust me, I’m not letting you off the hook. But I find myself feeling bad for you, little mouse. You're just someone who’s down on your luck and trying to get back on your feet. I appreciate that. And…I see potential in you.”

  “…Potential?”

  His eyes sparkle with dangerous intent. “Yes. Potential. You're small. Quick. You can sniff things out and have a great sense of direction while doing it. I could use someone like you. A stealthy little robber who can sneak in and get things that a giant lumbering robot can’t. Do you see where I’m going with this?” He pokes you gently in the ribs. You yelp and jump back. “I’m offering you a job.”

  You rub your side and glare at him. “I already have a job.”

  “Correction. You had a job.” Swindle tilts his head. “If you go back to your boss empty-handed, you’ll suffer for it. I know how he works, and trust me, what he does to those who fail isn’t pretty. But me? I’m fair. I’m lenient. Your work hours won’t kill you, and I’m not going to dump your dead body into the lake if something goes sour. This is an opportunity for you. What do you say?” He holds his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

  You eye his hand apprehensively, then take another step back. “No. I’m done with this. I never wanted to be a thief. I’m not working for a giant robot who can kill me at any chance.”

  He throws his hands up, exasperated. “Did you not hear a word I just said?”

  “I don’t care what you said!” You turn on your heel and march away. “What my boss does to me doesn’t matter anymore! I’m not going through with this sort of life!”

  Swindle sighs, and his tone hardens. “Ah, geez, you're going to make me be the bad guy, huh. Alright, fine, I can be the bad guy.”

  You let out a strangled shriek when you are unexpectedly yanked into the air. Swindle unceremoniously lifts you up by the back of your shirt, bringing you close to his face. “Listen, mouse,” he growls. “You have two options to choose tonight: either you agree to work for me, or I can sell you to other people who are worse than your boss. You want to end up collared and turned into a Decepticon’s pet?”

  You stop your desperate struggle to stare at him in horror. “Y-You wouldn’t do that!”

  “Wouldn’t I? I’m a daytrader, little one. I may specialize in weapons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take up animal handling once in a while.” He shakes you a little, earning a cry from you. “So, what’s it going to be? This is a limited time offer, so you better make up your mind while it lasts.”

  You stare at him, and you know he’s being completely serious. You have no option here except to agree to his terms. A pit forms in your stomach with roots of anxiety spreading through you, thriving on your fear. He notices how you’ve begun to shake, and grins with the knowledge that he has you.

He holds his hand out to you once more. “I’ll ask again. Do we have a deal?”

  You hesitate…then reluctantly extend your own hand to him. He takes your palm between his index finger and thumb and shakes it gently. “There.” Swindle looks satisfied. “Was that so hard? You’ve made the right choice, little mouse. Now, for your punishment.”

  “Wait, what?” You yank your hand back. “Punishment? What punishment!?”

  “The punishment.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. “You tried to steal from me. I just can’t let that go. What kind of message would I be spreading to the competition if they were to know I’m too soft with thieves?”

  “But I accepted your terms! I work for you now! What more could you want from me?”

  He tsks and shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with the deal, little mouse. This has everything to do with the fact that your old boss thinks I’m someone he can send his cronies to steal from.” He lifts you higher, and his gaze softens, only for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. You're still a greenie in the trade, so there’s no reason to draw this out. Just relax and everything will be fine.”

  You squirm and clutch at the fingers holding you, confused. “What are you-?”

  He opens his mouth. You find yourself staring down into the abyss of his throat, pulsing with a gentle purple light. Then your eyes widen and your heart crashes when he begins lowering you towards it.

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” you yell while you squirm, kick, flail, do anything you can to fight back against what you realize is happening. “PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!”

  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the gaping jaws below you. Swindle’s tongue shifts with excitement and anticipation. The sight makes you scream until you think your own throat might bleed.

  The more you fight, the faster Swindle lowers you. You curse and threaten, so terrified that you aren’t even aware of what you are saying at this point, fresh tears pouring down your face.

“SWINDLE, PLEASE, DON’T-!”

  You break into a scream when he drops you.

  The impact is softer than what you brace for, and you fall onto his tongue with an “Oof.” For a moment, you lay there, little cries coming out with your rapid-tempo breaths, heart beating so hard you think you may have a heart attack.

  And then you come to your senses, and realize where you are.

  You are in Swindle’s mouth.

  You scramble forward, moving to throw yourself out of the sticky deathtrap, but it is too late; the robot’s teeth click closed, cutting you off from the outside world. “Nonono!” You bang your fists frantically on them. “Please, let me out! I don’t want to die! P-Please don’t do this!”

  Hot air wafts over your body when Swindle chuckles. The muscle beneath you moves and begins to slowly push you backwards. Thick globs of saliva suck at your legs as you are forced back towards his throat.

  “No, stop!” You claw at his tongue, trying everything in your power to prevent yourself from going down. The giant tilts his head back.

  With a loud squelching gulp, Swindle swallows, and you are sucked into his esophagus, the powerful muscles pulling you down.

  So many things happen at once. Your body is massaged from all sides by the throat, leaving you all but completely immobile. The sound of Swindle’s internal workings is thunder in your ears, so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think.

  The most terrifying noise, however, is the growling and gurgling coming from below. An ominous reminder of where you are ultimately going to end up.

  You are squeezed into the stomach and fall into the squishy chamber that, as soon as it is aware of your presence, closes in. From all sides you are massaged and kneaded by thick, muscular walls of synthetic organ that rubs saliva and fluid all over you. You push at the walls with a terrified air of desperation, your lungs constricting like you can’t breathe. “Let me out!” you beg your captor. “Please, I don’t want this!”

  Swindle rumbles out another chuckle that sounds so much deeper now that you are in here. The walls quiver, laughing right along with him. “I don’t care what you want, little mouse. I’m your boss now, and I want you to sit in there and think about what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for trying to steal from you! Just please, spit me up! I-I don’t want to die!” Your voice breaks. The situation is truly hopeless now.

  Swindle groans. “Geez, how many times do I have to tell you, kid? You're not going to die. Do you feel any acid in there? Is your skin melting off of your bones?”

  You pause and look at your arms. The glow of the mech’s biolights gives you a dim image of your limbs: sticky and slimy…but not in any pain, and certainly no terrible wounds visible.

  “…No,” you mumble in disbelief.

  Swindle speaks to you like a parent does with their child. “See? You're in no pain. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. You're safe. Now relax and settle down.”

  “If I’m safe, then why did you decide to eat me?!”

“I already said this. You need to learn a lesson. A few hours in there will teach you not to steal from others…well, at least, not to steal from me. You’ll be doing plenty of theft in the future. But I’ll pay you for it, and you’ll never have to worry about going hungry or living on the streets ever again.”

  Your fear begins to diminish, and it’s replaced with indignation. “Of all the ways to teach me a lesson, it had to be like this?”

  The stomach shakes boisterously when Swindle laughs. “Sorry, kid. I had to scare the crap out of you somehow so you’d learn. You need to know your place in this profession.” He presses his hands right over where you are tucked inside and gives you a little squeeeze. “Now sit tight and relax for me, okay? I’ll let you out in a few hours. You're safe.”

  You grumble and give the stomach walls a disgruntled shove. The organ flexes to hug you, forcing you to sink into the warmth. Now that you’ve calmed down, you find that it’s actually…kind of nice in here. The constant massaging feels good on your exhausted body. The soft violet glow is soothing to your eyes. And though you hate to allow yourself, because you're still rather pissed off with him…you finally relax.

  “There you go,” he murmurs. “That’s right. Nice and warm.” The walls ripple when he gives his abdomen a pat. “You know, I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

  You give in and release a soft breath. You’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle here. But with how warm it is, and relaxed you are…maybe working for this robot won’t be so bad.