#So now that I have you all gathered here today

[batfam-stuff-posts-0]

And Tim is the batfamily's Make-Sure-You-Don't-Die Support Gremlin

They all have to work together to make sure he doesn't die.

Jason, in the Batcave with a 50-slide Powerpoint presentation: So. I have gathered you all here today because *gestures to statistics on slide with pointer* None of you want Tim to die

Jason, gesturing again: And I don't want Tim to die

Jason, gesturing to slide labeled How to Force-Feed Slef-Preservation Instincts to Your Gremlin Today: So now we gotta make sure Tim doesn't want Tim to die.

The rest of the batfam: Fantastic plan but have you fucking met Tim

Tim: You don't want Dick to die

Tim: And I don't want Dick to die

Tim: So now we gotta make sure Dick doesn't want Dick to die.

Jason: Fantastic plan but have you fucking met Dick

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.2 (you are here)

A03

Gareth had been a part of a handful of grand finales in his day, but none of them had ever been like this.

Maybe it was the fact they’d almost died in real life.

Maybe it was the kids in the room, egging and cheering them on.

Likely it was a combination of a lot of things, up to and including the way Eddie had poured his entire soul into this game--as if in doing so, it might fix the world that had been accidentally ruined for them.

(Possibly it was the cheesy effects Eddie had somehow roped Steve into pulling off with him, which included a number of lighting changes and a smoke machine that was cool for all of five seconds before it overwhelmed the room.)

They’d stayed well past when they had the room for, shouting and cheering and screaming-- and for once no one came in to chew them out for it.

Coming out triumphant, they'd defeated the great evil Eddie had cooked up in order to save the realm.

All the twists and turns and reveals…even now Gareth still felt the victory pulsing through his bones.

They really had needed this.

“Not gonna lie, I am not ready to go home.” Gareth thinks it was Stewart who said it, but it might have been Jeff. Not that it mattered--plans were sprung sprung, and they agreed to meet up at the only place still open that wasn’t the McDonalds.

“All middle schoolers get to go home first!” Steve announced with his typical mother-hen flair, which caused a very large amount of boos to be sent his way from said children.

“It is almost 10pm, you dipshits, I don't need all your moms crawling down my throat.” he tacked on, glaring as Dustin and Grant both began loudly gagging.

“Stevie’s right!” Eddie boomed from where he was still gathering his papers, haphazardly throwing them into his backpack. “You all know your moms want him.”

“Munson--”

Hop to it, hobbits, I want a burger.” Eddie interrupted, grinning cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes at him.

“Who are you calling a hobbit!?” Mike bit out, offended.

“if hopping makes someone a hobbit, then I guess we should start calling Eddie Frodo.” Jeff added sweetly.

“I have been walking normally for days, Jeffrey--”

Several parting shots later, the children allowed themselves to be herded outside, wherein they all stood around and proceeded to try and wheedle a ride out of anyone willing to listen to them.

“I don’t have a car today.” Tiff lied, standing in front of her family’s ancient Crown Vic.

“Sorry guys, I hitched a ride with Grant.” Jeff piled on with a grin. “And I don’t think he’s got room for all of you.”

“Come on, you’re not really gonna make us bike home? In the dark?” Dustin tried valiantly, gesturing at the sky as if it was pitch black outside.

It was not, and thus, his point was moot.

Gareth once again tuned out the ensuing argument, taking the time to just enjoy the moment.

(Maybe make a secret, near-silent bet with Jeff about who was going to break down and give the kids a ride home, communicated entirely through eyebrows and eye rolls.)

“Why are we even asking you--where the hell is Steve!?” Dustin finally shrieked, hands flung in the air in a way that was too reminiscent of Eddie to not be intentional.

Apparently Harrington wasn’t the only person he impersonated.

“Pretty sure he picked ‘stay behind to help clean.’” Grant told him, as if Eddie had ever done such a thing in his life.

“Someone tell them to hurry up.” Max grumped, hands crossed over her chest, Lucas’s arm around her shoulders. “They’re taking forever.”

“Welcome to life kid. Eddie runs on no one's clock but his own.” That from Stewart, who was also doing a grand job of pretending his mom’s car wasn’t sitting in the parking lot.

“Eddie doesn’t even know what a clock is.” Tiff said flatly, before Max could murder him for the kid comment. “I gave him one once and he acted like I gifted him a bomb.”

Darkly she muttered, “I think he ran it over with the van.”

“I’ll go get them.” Gareth announced, interrupting the entire charade before Dustin and Mike both could lose their shit. “I left my jacket in there anyway.”

More than likely Eddie's leg had begun hurting, in which case Gareth would be right about the only person besides Steve who Eddie would allow help from without falling into a snit.

(He did not want to end the night with Eddie in a snit.)

He figured the sooner he went, the sooner the whining would stop. Besides, it was just a quick trip back in, grab what he needed, and come right back out. Easy enough.

Unfortunately, Gareth forgot a few key things about surviving a horrific incident.

Mainly that PTSD was a bitch and schools were really creepy when they were empty.

At the right time of night, with the shitty, fluorescent lighting and the dark corner?

It looked a lot like the lab had.

The floor was even echoey in the same way as he slowly walked down it, each step ringing out as if to sing out his very doom.

….Which is why he immediately dived into the first door to Hawkins High’s tiny ass auditorium, rather than walk all the way down the creepy ass hallway to use the door they’d all trooped out of.

It had way more lights, and a far less chance of hiding a murder monster.

(Would he always be like this now?

Worried about shit that shouldn’t be real?

The Men in Black had done a group job of insisting this whole thing was a one off but that didn’t exactly make anyone feel better given the kids had told them they said that every time this shit happened.

Which was apparently bi-yearly.)

Unfortunately for Gareth, it also meant he was popping into a door that was at the very far back of the drama room--hidden, partly, by the costume rack Hellfire had shoved over to make room for Eddie’s throne.

He wasn’t being quiet. Didn’t think he needed to be and given his thoughts didn’t want to be-- but it wasn’t until he was through the door and weaving his way through ancient, tacky clothes that he realized Steve and Eddie hadn’t heard him come in.

Given the very compromising position they were in, Gareth doubted it would have mattered if he came in blowing a trumpet.

They were making out.

Or--no.

They weren’t.

It looked an awful lot like they were, from the angle Gareth was at, but he quickly adjusted to the low lighting and realized their heads weren’t lined up right.

He was proven right a moment later, when Steve straightened up--hand going to an all too familiar guitar pick that now hung around his neck.

“I can’t take this.” Steve protested, quiet voice made loud in the emptiness of the room.

He sounded off as he said it, a little like he had been that night at Eddie’s, when he’d been so upset about his parents. The choked, strangled voice of someone trying to reign in their emotions and doing a piss poor job about it.

Something clearly had happened between them in the ten or so minutes they’d been dragging their feet back here.

“Yes you can.” Eddie replied.

“Ed’s--”

“I’m giving it to you. You think I’ve ever offered this to anyone else?”

That was said as a challenge--Gareth very much recognized it as one--but Eddie’s bravado sounded wrong too.

Like he was trying to be serious about one part of this, while hiding another entirely. A magician performing an unfinished trick, relying on the audience to look right where he wanted without much prompting.

“Exactly. You should be giving this too--I dunno, someone who is important to you.” Steve protested, voice thick. “Not to me. Not because I was joking around. Fuck Eddie, I didn’t mean it--”

“Yes you did, and that is exactly why I’m giving it to you.” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to flick the guitar pick that now sat on Steve’s chest. “You mean something to a lot of people, Steve, and now you have proof.”

They stared at each other for one far too heated moment. 

(They were both so emotionally constipated--and Gareth absolutely shouldn’t be overhearing this.

Why were they always having these damn conversations in places he was around!? 

If either of them realized he was in the room…)

“I don’t need proof--” Steve said, but his hand had come up, trapping the one Eddie still had hovering near his chest.

“Yes you do. And you deserve to know that people want to be around you. That I want to be around you.”

Slowly, carefully, Gareth began walking backwards, trying not to make a sound.

This was way too fragile for him to ruin.

Steve made a frustrated noise. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Really? You, the person who apologized to me, told me you didn't care if I was gay, and insisted that I wasn't a satan worshiping demon, can't figure out why you’re important to me?”

Eddie’s voice faded as Gareth successfully retreated back out the way he came, doing his level best to ensure the door closed as quietly as possible.

Relief made him slump his head against the wood, and he held it there for a moment in order to give his two, idiotic friends the time they clearly needed.

Maybe Eddie would have a boyfriend after this.

(Let’s be honest, they’d have a better chance resolving their feelings by talking to a brick wall, but that wasn’t Gareth’s problem to fix.

At least not yet, anyway.)

Either way, he looped back to conquer the terrifying halfway, cursing out Munson and Harrington both the entire way down.

Made his way to the front of the door as loudly as he possibly, conceivably could, smacking into it as though he’d fumbled opening it on the first try (and only partly because being so fucking loud meant the monsters couldn’t get him.

Right?)

“Are you two done yet?” He yelled, and made sure to wait for an affirmative before barging in.

Sure enough, they were still close together, Steve with a smile on his otherwise red face and Eddie equally looking guilty, but both swung to look at him when Gareth marched in.

“Are you guys partying here or cleaning? Hurry the fuck up we want food.” He challenged, gesturing at the pile of shit Eddie still hadn’t put away. “Also the children need a ride.” 

“Dammit--” Steve growled, springing to life and trotting out past Gareth, hand running through his hair--and his other hand carefully hiding the necklace under his shirt.

Now, Gareth decided, that could let on what he’d seen, since they’d been about as subtle as a fucking hippo.

“I have told you you’re screwed, right? We’ve had that conversation?” He teased, after waiting just long enough for Steve to be out of earshot.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Eddie sniffed.

Gareth grinned, slow and mocking. “Mmm. and I’m sure the necklace I just saw was totally a copy you bought for reasons. Couldn’t possibly have been your real pick…”

Eddie’s face immediately reddened. “Shut up, Gary.”

“Whatever kind of situation could have just happened to have led you to hand over that?”

With a faked gasp, Gareth suddenly clutched at his heart. “Munson, tell me you didn't just deflower the good maiden Harrington!?”

He got punched in the shoulder for his efforts.

“Shut up, Gary!”

Quiter, not wanting to take any chances at all of being overheard, he said; “Did you tell him it was your moms?”

“No.” Eddie said, just as quiet. A true feat, for him. “And I will be furious if you tell him.”

Gareth raised his hands in surrender.

“Secrets safe with me.”

They both knew he meant it.

xXx

With the first lazy days of summer came a quiet kind of healing: Eddie finally stopped limping, Steve had gotten better about hugs and high fives, and Gareth was (mostly) sleeping through the night.

It was peaceful--or had been, until the Munson phone started to ring.

(Or maybe It had been ringing for a while, Gareth thought. Time was a little fuzzy right now.)

“Ten to one that's Henderson.” Eddie said, as the phone stopped, only to immediately start back up again.

He hauled himself up, apparently deciding the ringing was not going to stop until it was answered.

Steve, sprawled out on Eddie’s couch, groaned.

“Why is he calling here?”

“Because you're always here.”

A fun little fact Gareth knew was true more than it wasn’t.

Steve spent an awful lot of time in Eddie’s trailer these days. Gareth’s garage and the drama room too, but given how Steve seemed more eager to hang out with Eddie than anyone else, those places didn’t count.

“How do you know he's calling for me, and not D&D advice?”

“Because he worships you, dude.” Eddie drawled, returning from the kitchen where the phone now sat politely on the kitchen counter, with tinny Dustin Henderson-esque noises squawking out of it. “Not me.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Steve muttered, but heaved himself up off the couch, careful to step over Gareth--who had claimed the floor the very second Eddie had magicked a joint out of his lunch box.

“What, Henderson?” Steve said into the receiver, as Eddie flopped dramatically onto the couch.

He nearly kicked Gareth in the process, who hissed at him for it.

“Yes, yes, you’re so vicious.” Eddie cooed, and if Gareth wasn’t high, that comment would have earned a solid tackle. Alas, the floor called to him, so he simply flipped his best friend off instead.

Steve’s voice floated back from the kitchen, fond and exasperated in equal measures.

“The plan you put in my hand yesterday? Yeah Dustin, I have it.”

Whatever Dustin said in response caused him to make an offended noise, followed by a higher, actually offended noise.

“Where’d the joint go?” Eddie questioned lazily, hands idly patting the couch.

“Did you put it in your pocket again?” Gareth asked, after checking that he himself did not have it.

Eddie thought that over.

“I don’t think I’m wearing pockets.” He decided after a moment.

“Okay--okay! If anything happens I will handle it, and fill you in later.” Steve said, followed by a loud; “No.”

And then;

“I said no!”

And then;

“That's stupid, Henderson. You're two hours away at camp, you wouldn't make it back in time to do anything.”

“Is it under the couch?” Eddie asked, half watching Steve slowly sink down onto his elbows on the kitchen counter, only to spring back up anytime Dustin talked.

Gareth gave him a look.

“Why would it be under the couch?”

Eddie shrugged. “Dunno man. Joints roam sometimes, you know?” He walked a few fingers in the air, as if joints had legs and used them.

“And they walk under the couch?” Gareth challenged back. “I am amazed this trailer’s never caught on fire.”

“I wouldn’t say never, Gare-Bear.”

“Can you just go enjoy camp?” Steve pleaded in the background, sounding like the world's most disgruntled parent. “For me, man, I have to work all summer, I’m literally doing my last interview tomorrow. How am I supposed to look forward to making fun of your dorky math adventures if you don't go on any?”

Finally;

“Yeah, you little shit, you too.”

“Not to worry, we have all summer to find it.” Eddie said, before he caught up to the conversation.

Head whipping towards Steve, he accused; “Did Steve just say he got a job?”

“I wasn’t listening.” Gareth said, too busy looking under the couch in case Eddie really had dropped a lit joint under there. How he didn’t know, but this was Eddie Munson, after all.

Stupider things had happened.

Steve grumbled, “I'm hanging up now!”--before slamming the phone back into the receiver with a sigh so heavy his entire chest shook with it.

“Who knew Steve Harrington was whipped?” Gareth teased rolling back onto his back and miming cracking a whip in the air. “And to a future freshman, no less!”

“I did!” Eddie raised a hand in the air.

“Oh screw you guys.” Steve scoffed, hauling himself back to the couch. “Someone hand me the joint, I need it.”

“So bad news about that…”

Gareth got to watch in delight as Eddie tried to explain the missing joint to Steve--who was a lot less casual about being potentially lit on fire.

“Where are you interviewing at, anyway?” Gareth asked, as Eddie dramatically army-crawled to his bedroom in search of a new joint, after being thoroughly chewed out about losing the last one.

“Starcourt. Place called Scoop’s Ahoy.”

Knowing damn well he was the highest person in the room right now, Gareth frowned as he tried to recall what store that was.

It took him a moment.

Then the realization hit and glee overtook him in a wave that not even weed could temper down.

“The ice cream shop?” He said, amusement overtaking his voice.

“Yeah!” Steve said, only to immediately frown when a cackle of laughter burst out of Gareth’s mouth.

“How is that funny?”

“If you don’t already know,” Gareth snickered, “I’m not telling you.”

He was saved from having to explain by Eddie inch worming back, this time with a lit joint in his mouth.

Sparks twirled from the end of it, landing threatening on the thin carpet every time he puffed.

“Dammit Eddie you’re gonna catch the trailer on fire!”

“Supposedly he already did.” Gareth tattled.

This did not earn him any favors, but did give him endless amounts of delight when Steve dived on Eddie as if wrestling would, in fact, save them all from catching the place on fire, and not help it along instead.

God, Scoop’s Ahoy.

Gareth’s summer just got a hell of a lot better.

Bonus

If he was a good person, Gareth would have given Steve a heads up about Hellfire visiting on his second week of work.

Unfortunately, Gareth was far more interested in seeing everyone else's reactions to care. Only Tiff so far had realized what “Steve’s working at that ice cream place at the mall” meant and Gareth was in dire need of watching Eddie’s reaction to The Shorts.

“Remind me to steal Grant's camera next time.” He whispered to Hellfire as a whole as they walked up to the counter, grin growing as Eddie finally clocked Steve.

Slutty little sailor outfit and all.

Eddie’s own grin froze first, and then his limbs, eyes growing so wide they practically overtook his face. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his mouth, and so it stayed slightly open, giving the wonderful impression that he’d been paused like a VHS tape.

Gareth wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Hey Harrington, you didn't clean the--whoa.”

Steve’s coworker—a girl from band whose name Gareth couldn’t recall—stared at the group, her expression shifting into something that could only be described as “overworked minimum wage employee completely fed up with life.”

“Can I help you?” She challenged, planting her hands on her hips with one eyebrow raised.

Like he’d been shocked back to life, Eddie sprung into action.

“Oh we're here to laugh at--ow, Jeff, your elbows are like blades!”

“We're here to see Steve.” Grant said over Eddie’s screeching, before turning his own cheeky smirk on their ex-jock. “Right buddy?”

A smile flit over Robin's face, something that's got too much of an edge to it to be friendly.

“Well don't let me stop you. Take your time, we offer unlimited free samples.” She waved her hand to all the open tubs in the case, the same gesture Eddie used when pretending to be a merchant unveiling fanciful wares.

Steve frowned, head whipping to her in outrage. “Not even an hour ago you were down my throat about giving out too many!”

Robin turned innocently towards him. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You literally said and I quote, ‘Harrington we don't offer unlimited free samples!’”

“You must have misheard me.”

“Well don't convince the lady otherwise, let's try some ice cream!” Eddie said, clapping his hands together.

To the average outsider it might look like he's taking Robin's side (and advantage of the situation)

What he was actually doing is what he always did--pulling the attention back on himself to get heat off everyone else in a way that allowed him to stare greedily at Hellfire’s newly acquired sailor boy.

Steve huffed, frustrated, but pulled his scooper out of his holster anyway. Twirled it as he does so and then did it again when Eddie ooed and awed at him for it.

“Can you do tricks?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno man, throw it in the air and catch it?”

“Do not throw ice cream.” Robin warned from the spot she’d retreated too, settling against the wall to watch the show.

Idly Gareth wondered how long it would take for her to catch on that they’re all friends.

(It still surprised him to learn there were people who didn’t know they were friends.

Gareth had assumed small town syndrome would mean the entire school had figured it out by now, but there’s always people who don’t eat their lunch in the cafeteria or pay much attention to gossip.

A stereotype that Buckley fit to a perfect T.)

“Yeah Munson, I'd probably just get it all over me!” Steve added, exaggerating his own frown.

A fact Robin considered, before stating:

“On second thought, tricks would bring in more customers…”

Eddie pointed a finger her way, winking. “I think I'm starting to like you, Buckley.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, stop.”

(He never actually started, of course, but Gareth doesn't think she's figured that out yet.)

Bonus x2

“There’s a guy drowning in the mall fountain.” Robin announced as she trooped past, backpack slung over her shoulder. Steve had opened the store by himself today, something he had privately told Gareth he was proud of.

(“Means she’s starting to trust me!” He’d declared, triumphant, and somehow missed Eddie making a gagging noise in his peripheral vision.)

“Sonovabitch!” Steve growled, flinging the dishrag down and vaulting over the counter.

“What--” Robin sputtered, flinging herself away before she got plowed over. “Dingus we have a door--!”

Gareth said nothing, instead taking a noisy slurp of his shake as he too, turned to watch as Steve paused at the fountain’s edge, assessing the splashing happening inside of it with narrowed eyes.

“Fucking show off.” Robin finished in a mutter, as Steve seemed to decide the best course of action was to lunge forward, grabbing onto the drowning guy’s waist with both arms and bodily hauling him out.

A familiar figured flailed around for a minute before going limp, causing him and Steve both to crash to the floor and--

Gareth almost choked on his shake.

“Oh shit that’s Stewart!” He gasped, slamming the shake on the counter before rushing over to help his friends.

“There’s a trash can, right there.” Robin called after him, and when it proved ineffective, threateningly yelled;

“I’m throwing this away!”

“Dude, you're a trouble magnet, you know that?” Steve was ranting, as Stewart sputtered and hacked up fountain water.

“I thought I saw something!” He whined in between coughs as Gareth trotted up.

“Well stop it.” Steve crawled back up to his feet, trying to fix his dumb little sailor suite while glaring menacingly at Stewart.

“Was the thing you saw coins perhaps?” Gareth teased, now assured that Stewart wasn’t in danger of dying from his own stupidity (again.) “Maybe a misplaced dollar bill?”

“Shut up.” He moaned, while Gareth smirked at Steve.

Who just ran his hands through his hair, like he wasn’t fond of their antics, the liar.

“Did you decide to find it with your mouth instead of a hand, like a sane person?”

“I said shut up Gareth--”

“Let me get you real water.” Steve interrupted, being hauling Stewart back to Scoop’s, like the mom figure he so totally was.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part five. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: tragedy strikes when a plane crashes. john insists upon your relationship taking the next step. · tags: mothering kink, lactation kink · tw: possessiveness, codependency, attachment issues · word count: 3,742

One hundred and eighteen people are dead. In an instant. Just…gone. Fallen from the sky. Innocent people just trying to get from one place to another. Including a mother and her little girl. Teachers, families, couples…

It’s been everywhere today: on the news, social media, and on the lips of every person you pass in the halls at your college.

And you feel sick every time you think of the terror they must’ve felt. How…helpless they were as they probably clung to each other in those final moments, praying for someone—something—to save them…

You try to push it out of your mind, to the best of your ability, so you might make it through the rest of the day without bursting into a puddle of tears.

That evening, you pick idly at your dinner as you watch John on your flat screen.

Three minutes. If he’d been three minutes sooner, there at least would’ve been a chance at saving them.

And then you watch as he actually gets choked up—as tears stream from his bloodshot eyes—and your own chin wobbles in response.

Please, God, don’t let him blame himself.

He got there as quickly as he could.

While part of you hates him—is terrified of him—for the way he’s been treating you since first meeting a handful of days ago, you're sure he would’ve practically carried that plane to safety if it’d still been in the air when he arrived. He has every right to be angry. To be upset. Because countless lives have now been destroyed, and over a hundred taken through an act of evil—of terrorism.

At least they’re dead now, too.

You hope that if there is a hell—from whatever religion is it that they prescribed to—that they’re suffering in it.

You glance down to your barely-touched dinner, then rise to put it away.

Once you’ve brushed your teeth and are ready to lie down for the night, you glance to your balcony doors, and, most unexpectedly, fill with disappointment when you find the space to be empty.

Then, you quickly fill with guilt immediately after. How could you expect him to show up here after the day he’s had? You are the furthest thing from his metaphorical plate—from his mind.

The real world is calling now, and your time of being a distraction to him is over.

He’s gone, and he’s not—

Just as you step toward the doors to close your curtains is when he lands outside them, causing you to jump from fright.

And then tears quickly gather in your eyes as you turn the handle.

John turns around slowly, and he gently rests his hands on his hips while shrugging slightly. “I—”

He shakes his head and glances to his feet. “I tried. I really—if I’d gotten there sooner—”

You throw yourself against his chest and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you choke out between sobs.

You run your fingertips through his hair and bury your face in his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “There is nothing you could’ve done. This is not your fault.”

He slips an arm beneath your legs, and he carries you back inside.

John currently has one of your nipples in his mouth, and is gently sucking on it for comfort while you rub his head and keep blankets tucked tightly around him.

You turned quiet white noise on awhile ago to try and lull him to sleep, but every time you think he might be close to drifting off, he begins sucking again.

Such a strange arrangement this is tonight. And in general, really.

But you won’t tell him no in anything he needs to soothe himself. He’s been through utter hell today, and he came to you of all people to make it better. To hold and console him.

“Do you think they’ll do it?” You whisper.

He hums in curiosity.

“Let supes into the military,” you explain while resting a palm against the warm skin of his back.

He releases your breast from his mouth and swallows before replying, wishing you could lactate. He’d like that tonight. But he instead has to make do with what you have to offer.

At least he has the rest of you to do with as he pleases. Whether you like it or not.

And you’re even stupid enough to buy his sob story about being filled with immeasurable guilt over not being able to save the day. When, in reality, he doesn’t feel an ounce of it.

Because, really, it may just work out in the long-run for Vought, and get them exactly what Madelyn has been wanting for months on-end.

He smiles at the thought of her being pleased with him this time. She should’ve been for the last plane he brought down, but he set things right with those words he fed VNN just a handful of hours ago.

And now here he lies in your arms, while you coo over him like a loving mother.

He snuggles closer to you, feeling completely content for once.

He could get used to this. But only when he needs it—rather, wants it—of course. He can’t keep coming over here every night like he has been. Can’t come off as needy.

Even if he feels like he does need it: you, your attention, affection, and maternal comfort and love.

Finally, he replies. “It’d be ignorant as shit for them not to after what happened today, don’t you think? I mean, for the military to say that they’d rather have ordinary soldiers on the frontlines, as opposed to those who can survive a bullet or bombs…”

He shakes his head in indignation. “No different than today. Every day this country fails its people—people the government is supposed to be working for. Instead, they’re getting them killed needlessly. So, if us entering the military can save innocent lives, then I’m all for it.”

Your eyes flit between his while you gingerly cup his cheek, and he nuzzles into your touch. “I know that physically, you can’t be hurt.”

You trail your fingertips up to his temple. “But what about in here?”

You press a kiss to his forehead. “Sweetheart, you have already been through so much pain because of these people. Going to war…the things you’d see—”

“I can handle it,” he says, cutting you short.

You grow silent for a moment.

“Is this something you want, or something you’ve been told will happen to you if the people at Vought get their way? Meaning you have no true say.”

He’s not used to this: someone looking out for him. He’s not so stupid as to think that when Madelyn tells him that all she does is to protect him that she actually means it. She’s just…telling him what he wants to hear. But, because he’s so desperate for the attention…he’s willing to pathetically play along.

But with you, it isn’t a sick game. It’s honest. You are.

You ghost your fingertips over his lips, waiting for a response.

Until he decides that he doesn’t much feel up to trying at giving one.

So, instead, he takes your nipple into his mouth again, and he begins to suck.

You sigh quietly, but don’t push the subject. Instead, you gingerly cup the back of his head and begin to hum a nursery rhyme, so as to lull him, hopefully, to sleep.

When John wakes in the morning, it’s not in your arms, but he’s immediately comforted by the smell of eggs cooking and the sound of bacon sizzling on the stovetop across the room. And you hum along quietly to pop music, which plays softly on your little vintage countertop radio.

Sunlight streams through sheer gossamer curtains a few feet from the bed, and he’s practically swaddled in blankets, with plenty of soft pillows to keep him comfortable.

He really likes it here with you. It feels like…home. A home he’s never, in all his life—over forty years—had a chance to have. But this place is just that.

It’s well-decorated, cozy, clean, and warm. Charming. Idyllic, even. Honestly? You deserve an entire house, he thinks. He’d love to see what you’d come up with in turning it, gradually, into a home. Maybe into one for the both of you.

You playing the role of his perfect, dutiful little housewife…? He loves the idea. Fucking adores it. And it’s not like you could ever hope for better, anyway. What woman wouldn’t want such a life given to her by him of all men? Only an imbecile would refuse it.

Now, he has something to truly think about and consider. Given you continue behaving yourself for him—continue doing as he says, and being his well-behaved young lady…and playing mommy to him, which he needs most of all.

“This is nice,” John says after taking a bite of buttered toast, with a smile on his lips.

A smile that you return while gently brushing your foot against his beneath the table.

You’re still wary of him. You’re not so stupid not to be. To be wholly trusting and adoring toward him when you know what he’s capable of would just make you careless toward your own safety and well-being.

Maybe you are anyway.

But what choice do you have but to continue entertaining him like this? To continue…mothering him.

“I’m glad,” you say quietly before taking a drink of orange juice.

He leans back then, and you watch as he looks around your apartment, carefully taking in every feature and facet.

You shift nervously in your seat, wondering what he’s thinking—why he’s studying the space so intently all of a sudden.

And then his eyes meet yours again, and you merely look at him shyly from beneath your lashes while swallowing a forkful of cheesy scrambled eggs.

“I like it here,” he remarks. “It’s so…homey. You’re a good little homemaker.”

You flash him a toothy smile, and he genuinely returns it, enjoying the sight of you so happy.

You like being praised, he notes. You probably have no one to give you regular encouragement and approval. No one to give you attention.

He likes that you seemingly like having his. And certainly likes that his is the only that you have.

He doesn’t need to worry about someone else standing in his way—between the two of you. Between him and what now belongs to him. But, even if such a person existed…it wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Thank you,” you say while actually blushing. “I’ve worked really hard on it. It’s not much, but I’ve done my best with what little space and money that I have.”

He takes a sip of milk, then licks his lips. “I can tell. I do wonder, though…”

Your brows furrow when he begins to trail off. “What, baby?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. God, he really fucking loves when you call him that. He likes when you call him any pet name, in truth. Baby, sweetheart, sweetie… He wishes you’d call him more. Like, perhaps, your sweet baby boy—or your perfect little boy. Maybe, in time, you will.

He shrugs, then waves his hand, as if he’s trying to be nonchalant. When, in reality, he wants you to push him to tell you. Wants you to show interest in what is it that he has to say. Wants to know that what he thinks matters to you more than anything. Well, that he matters to you more than anything—not just what he thinks.

You gently set your fork down on your plate, then rest your hands in your lap. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

He glances to his right, to where your balcony doors lie. “Just wondering what you might think about my place at Seven Tower.”

You blanch momentarily as he looks back to you.

He’s about to segue into asking you to come see it, isn’t he? His apartment, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if he offers to give you a tour of the entire building, just as an opportunity to show off. Not just how he, most likely, knows the whole of the place like the back of his hand, but also so you can witness how everyone there probably bows and scrapes before him: the face of the Seven. The face of Vought. The face…of the entire country—of America.

You know he’s waiting for a specific response. An agreeable one. One that will please him.

“What’s it like?” You ask, feigning mild curiosity, even if you couldn’t care less.

It’s probably like every other corporate skyscraper: soulless and without character. Just a giant advertisement for their brand. A monument to their greed.

He takes a bite of his bacon and chews thoughtfully for a moment before answering. “Guess you’ll just have to come and see for yourself to find out.”

You proceed to stare at him in response to his, admittedly, predictable answer.

You refrain from shifting in your seat, so as to prevent him from bearing witness one of your ‘tells’ for when you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh. W-when?”

You grab your glass of orange juice and hold it between your hands to try and keep them steady—to prevent them from shaking from nerves.

“How about today?” He replies, taking another bite of his eggs.

You grip the glass more tightly. “How? I mean—”

“I can fly you up. We’ll just go in through the roof. No need to bother with metal detectors and what-not.”

You nod slowly.

At least you won’t have to worry, then, about crowds and people snapping pictures of you on their cellphones. That is the very last thing you desire: obnoxious notoriety, and to have yourself splashed across the cover of a supermarket tabloid with a question in bold print asking who Homelander’s new girl is.

And there’s still Emma.

Emma, who you’ve been…somewhat avoiding as of late, strictly from guilt. Guilt that you’re lying to her by omission. Omitting the fact that you’re carrying on with Homelander, for lack of a better term, that is.

If she ever finds out, her heart will break in two. You’re dealing with enough right now, such as the man who sits before you. Adding the loss of your best friend to the list of stressors upon you might just be more than you can handle.

“Okay,” you finally say in reply.

John watches and trails along behind you as you walk slowly around his apartment, looking it over.

He suddenly feels like all his nerve endings have been exposed. It’s a similar—if not near-identical feeling—to how he felt that first night he laid in your arms without a stitch of clothing on, minus his briefs.  But he’s gotten used to it; likes it even: the warmth of your body against his own in the middle of the night, when it feels like the two of you are all that’s left in the world.

“So, what do you think?” He asks, eager for your thoughts.

You turn around and ease your head back as you gaze up at him and into irises of blue.

“It…” You trail off.

You don’t want to anger him with your answer, but are also growing tired of lying to spare his overly-sensitive feelings. It’s exhausting walking this dangerous tightrope every time you’re together.

If he doesn’t want an unpleasant answer, then maybe he shouldn’t have brought you here in the first place, and furthermore shouldn’t be asking your opinion on his personal living space.

You nearly flinch when he reaches up and cups your cheek.

You truly detest his suit, including his gloves.

So, you reach up, take his hand in yours, and pull gently against the fingertips of the soft red material.

He stays quiet as you remove it, and then his other one, before tossing them both onto a nearby table.

You blink innocently up at him and he smiles.

You fill with relief that he didn’t take offense to the gesture.

God, he is truly exhausting.

He cups your cheek again and brushes his thumb along your soft, flushed skin. “You can be honest.”

You mentally raise a brow at that. “Did you decorate it, or—”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “No. Not something I’d ever waste my time with.”

He smirks. “That’s women’s work.”

You do raise a brow then and frown slightly as well, so he grins at your response.

He turns you around and pulls you back against his chest before wrapping his arms around your neck. “So?”

“Well, it’s very clean, which I like,” you say while resting your hands on his arms.

He snorts. Of course you’d reply with that.

“And?” He pushes, wanting for more.

You sigh. “I hate it. It’s very…empty. Impersonal. It feels like we’re in an American History museum instead of what’s supposed to be your home. There’s no…personal touches. It feels far more like Homelander’s living space, and less like my John’s.”

He stills, which you take immediate note of, and you grow cold all over.

You fucked up. Said too much. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Your John,” he whispers.

With your back against his chest, you can’t see the tears shimmering in his eyes at the sweet sentiment.

Your body loosens and relaxes, and you lean further back against him—your legs now a bit wobbly-feeling from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline.

“I mean, do you like the way it’s decorated and arranged?”

His mouth tugs into a frown and he shrugs. “I don’t spend much time here, to tell you the truth.”

You turn around and slide your hands up his chest and into his hair while standing on tiptoes. “You could always have it redone, sweetie. Hire a decorator, pick some things out and—”

He smiles widely and you shut your mouth while your brows furrow.

“What…?” You ask hesitantly while cocking your head slightly to the side.

He rests his hands against the small of your back, holding you close.

“I could just have you do it for me,” he states while sliding his hands higher, beneath the soft feminine top you have on.

Your eyes flit between his, waiting for explanation.

“You could come live here,” he explains. “We hire a decorator, like you said, or I just give you my credit card and let you do as you please to turn this place into a proper home. I foot the bill while you…y’know, go nuts.”

He…wants to live together?

Oh, no. No, no, no. That is way too big of a step to take, and far too soon.

His attachment issues know no bounds.

There’s a specific word for this level of it, isn’t there? Co…something. Codependency, yes! And now he’s made you the subject of his sick version of it. You wonder how many have come before you—have failed and disappointed him—then disappeared, per Vought, so he can inevitably find another to take their place.

Or, maybe you’re the first.

Who knows?

But if you are…why?

He never did answer that question, did he? Why you, that is.

You don’t think you should force that answer out of him right now, though.

“Baby, that is…a huge step. And I don’t think that…after only knowing each other for little over a week, for us to…take that leap—”

The light slowly drains from his eyes, and his smile disappears.

You swallow thickly while your heart jumps into your throat.

“What? You don’t want to be here? Don’t want me around?”

You jump into damage-control mode. “Of course I do, baby. But… I have less than two months left in school before I get my diploma. I’m about to be loaded down with finals. And there’s work, too. Just…to move in the middle of it all…”

You cup the back of his head and smile warmly, desperate to keep him from getting angry. Terrified of what will happen to you if you don’t succeed.

“How about this, sweetheart: we can compromise, maybe, if you like? You could pack a bag: clothes, toiletries, books and movies—I’ll even help you. Just…whatever you like. And you bring it all back to my apartment. I’ll clean out one of the drawers in my dresser for you, and some space in my closet, a spot in my bathroom—whatever you need—and you can continue staying there, just like you’ve been. But this way, it’ll feel more like your home, too. I mean, you like it better there, right? You said that you do.”

You press a soft kiss to his cheek, then gaze warmly into his eyes as you wait for—you desperately fucking hope—a positive response.

He considers for a moment—you note how he grinds his jaw while in thought—and then he exhales while nodding. “Alright. Fine. But only until you’ve graduated. Right?”

You ignore the feeling of fear that overtakes you at his insistence. “Of course. I’ll just have a lot less on my plate then, sweetie. And it’ll be good to wait. Because it’ll give us more time to get to know one another. And you to have an opportunity to make sure that that’s what you truly want: me living here. Because I’d hate to…to just move in, and you decide a week or two later that you’ve made a huge mistake, and I have no apartment to go back to because I gave it up, you know?”

He nods his head from side to side in understanding. “Okay. I’ll pack a bag or two, and I’ll just continue coming to you every night.”

He smirks while leaning down and cupping your face between his hands—the image of him crushing your head between them flits briefly through your mind—and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“Besides, I love seeing you comfortable and in your element, anyway. And it’s nice having home-cooked meals so often.”

He grabs one of your ass cheeks, and your eyes widen in surprise. “And we don’t have to worry about the lemmings here at Vought up both our asses when we’re being intimate and when you’re…y’know, looking after me.”

You nod. “That’s all I want: privacy. And for me to have you all to myself.”

You hope he likes that last bit… You only tacked it on for his benefit.

When you feel his erection suddenly pressing against your stomach—hard and firm—you have confirmation that he does.

And then he presses his lips to yours once more.

· tagging list: @emilynissangtr @highsummon @chaimshelii @sacha1slytherin

[lucygraysboy]

she looks so cute, is the first thought that crosses billy’s mind when he opens the door, letting lucy gray step in. a little cowgirl about to win over the sordid hearts of new yorkers. he, on the other hand, is still in what can be described as loungewear — a light blue sweater, gray sweatpants and socks. the biggest of smiles dancing on his face as he studies the other’s reaction, taking her bags and closing the door behind her. he carries the luggage to her room before joining her in the living room, his heart feeling all light and fluttery, brimming with the kind of joy only she can bring him. “i’m very happy to hear that.” he picked red roses because nothing says i love you like roses. “how was your trip? any traffic?” he’d spent the past few hours obsessively checking the maps and weather apps, stressing himself out. lucy gray is a good driver, or so billy thinks, but it’s the other drivers that he doesn’t trust. “well, that was kind of my intention. i didn’t want my rainbow princess to walk into a mojo dojo casa house. i wanted to make this place feel more homey. charlie and manuela, mostly manuela, helped me pick all these things.” he’d bought so many teddy bears for her room that the doorman started giving him strange looks every time he walked right past him with yet another furry head sticking out of a bag. “the luxury?” he chuckles, shaking his head and trailing over to the couch, plopping down beside his childhood best friend. “you should see the penthouse up at the top floors. no, but thank you… i hope you’ll love it here. look, there’s manhattan bridge and the one over there… that’s brooklyn bridge.” he leans closer to her and points to the view outside the massive windows. the weather isn’t ideal, but at least the gray clouds gathering above the city bring with them a silent promise — the first heavy snow of the year. “east river, of course. you can’t really see the statue of liberty from up here, though.” that’s what almost all of his friends ask about the second they walk in, can you see the statue of liberty from up here? he’s learned to answer the question before it comes up. “for you. everything i do, i do it for you…” he softly hums, briefly laying his head on her shoulder. arms coiling around her waist as he hugs her. “i’m so happy you’re finally here, lucy gray. i have a plan for today, but i’m not really sure how you feel and what you want to do. if you want to go out, we can go to central park, get a cup of hot chocolate, some churros, just walk around the park. there’s a cute carousel and an ice skating rink. or we could take it slow and easy if you’re tired, there’s a swimming pool on the first floor, all you need to do is get on the elevator, we could have some fun there, take a shower, go see a musical on broadway, grab dinner? what do you feel like doin’? wait, gosh… where are my manners? do you want anythin’ to drink or eat now? i can fix us somethin’. wanna take a nap?” he bombards her with questions out of sheer excitement, finding it hard to believe she’s really here.

dressed in pink high waisted pants, a brown cowgirl snoopy top underneath her fleece fuzzy zip up with large flowers printed on it and a pink beanie with matching gloves. she’s super glad she brought the fuzzy jacket to shield herself against the icy cold new york winds. after finding somewhere to park the silverado, barb azure and the rest of the covey will be here later this week— god, she prays no one decides to rob her mama’s truck. it’s in a well lit and seemingly guarded parking garage to billy’s condo but still. she’s still amazed she managed to get here in one piece, actually still in shock at what she’s went through to get here. and then to come and stand in the middle of all of it, is surreal. eyes looking up at how tall everything is, buildings instead of mountains. people instead of animals— everywhere. noisy horns and crazy attitudes. no more southern hospitality to be found in sight, it’s certainly all very overwhelming but still not as bad as she imagined. and the moment billy’s came and got her, it’s like the moment in nashville again, but triple that at seeing such a fascinating sky line when the elevator ride up to his room shows her that. “i really love my flowers,” she’s in the midst of gushing about her roses and how he approached her with them like a prince when the door to his condo comes open and the inside of it makes her go speechless. “this is—” amazing. bambi eyes wide and bewildered. the interior but then the decorations… “looks like i live here.” the brunette laughs, standing in awe and confusion simultaneously. she reaches down to pull her converses off, then trails over to the living room, “look at this place. the view, the luxury, the view— that’s insane! and these,” hands touch the fairy lights, WHERE in the world did he find such girly like stuff? wait…smile dares to falter, is those blair’s? she retracts her hand, like it burns her. then eyes refocus on something else, going over to the couch to sit, a happy smile gracing her features. rainbow princess. “aww,” placing the roses on the table, she grabs the chocolates, “for me?” reading the card while opening the chocolates, taking the one with marshmallow inside it. her favorite. a sweet smile gracing her face, casting him a loving look.

[jo-harrington]

A Very Corroded Black Friday AKA Extended Holiday Hours CCFest x SMVerse Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader

CCFest Black Friday Prompt: One Day Only

Summary: In an unprecedented turn for 1986, StarCourt Mall announces that it's staying open for 24 Hours on Black Friday. Eddie barely survived a regular shift last year; what will happen when he and his friends embark on an adventure during the dreaded Extended Holiday Hours? It's one day only. How bad could it be?

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: No Upside Down AU, Friendship, Fluff, Angst, Humor, Character Growth, established relationship between Eddie and the Claire's Store Manager (reader), references to media and pop culture, retail and food service themes

Notes: Thanks to @corrodedcoffinfest for another fantastic pop-up, this one absolutely up my alley.

This fic is set in my Store Manager Verse. It's a very fluffy friends-to-lovers story about Eddie, who works at Tape World, and the Claire's Store Manager. This installment will be set in 1986 and I'll do my best to make it as digestible as possible for anyone who hasn't read SMVerse. Just know that the focus will be on Corroded Coffin more than Eddie and Reader.

I might be a smidge late with this than I hoped I would be; I had my own Black Friday nightmares to deal with today. Such is the world of retail. Hope you enjoy the shenanigans of our favorite guys.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

November 27, 1986 - Thanksgiving 11:45PM

"Do we have to go in?"

"Yes."

"What if we all faked our deaths and changed our names?"

"Then you can't buy your mom that glass bird she wanted for Christmas, dingus."

"We could just sell one of Dave's kidneys to buy the bird."

"Why one of my kidneys? She's your mom!"

"Considering how many 'your mom' jokes I've had to hear, it might as well be your kidney."

"Guys!" you shouted to get them all to stop their bickering. "It'll be alright. It's just Black Friday. We'll survive."

"Barely," Eddie grumbled from his spot in the driver's seat.

"You're not helping," you scoffed at him.

You were all piled into the van, staring at the brightly-lit entrance to StarCourt Mall as though it was the gate to hell.

As a matter of fact, it might as well have been. There was already a line of grouchy, cold customers gathered outside the entrance to the mall, and each time a group of employees approached to be let in by mall security, they started shouting and getting restless, as though the doors were about to open for them instead of the poor souls that would inevitably be the targets of their shitty behavior.

After a year of being open, the excitement around the new and shiny StarCourt Mall had faded. Now it was just The Mall, much like every new shopping center became after the novelty wore off. People still shopped, of course they did, but mall management seemed to like the hype that had surrounded StarCourt upon their grand opening.

So they came up with a gimmick that got them on the news and in the papers and had all of the residents of Roane County talking: Extended Holiday Hours.

In fact, not just any extended hours.

The mall would be open for 24 Hours on Black Friday.

Actually, it wouldn't just be open. It was a whole event.

There would be gift certificates for the first 100 customers who entered the mall, raffles and giveaways, free snacks and hot cocoa available all day, and all the pomp and circumstance surrounding Santa's long-awaited arrival to Roane County as his workshop opened for families to snap their perfect holiday pictures.

Gag.

Although you were well-versed in retail with a store of your own--that you'd volunteered to work the whole 24 hours with a sneaky nap in the stock room slipped in--Eddie had only experienced one Black Friday, as a mid-shift. And Jeff, Gareth, and Dave? This would be their first holiday season in retail, let alone a crazy gimmick on the biggest shopping day of the year.

So the Gates of Hell? Yeah, they were actually looking pretty tame compared to StarCourt Mall.

As if sensing your sudden and uncharacteristic trepidation, Eddie sat a little straighter and took on a look of determination.

"Alright," he rallied as the clock on the dashboard clicked closer to midnight. "Are we gonna sit in here and freeze to death as we wait in fear? Or are we gonna go in there and try our best? Because those paychecks are gonna look pretty nice if we survive.

"So what do you guys say?"

He turned back to his younger friends, eyebrows raised expectantly.

They all glanced at each other before they all shouted for Eddie to start the van and drive them all home.

"Unbelievable," he grumbled and yanked his keys from the ignition so he could climb out of the van himself.

You and the others followed suit and you walked towards the entrance together, in solidarity, before splitting off to your respective stores once you were in.

StarCourt's 24-Hour Black Friday Blowout was One Day Only.

How bad could it possibly be?

3:15AM Gareth - Hot Dog on a Stick

Gare didn't know how people could be hungry for something from the food court in the middle of the goddamned night when they'd just gorged themselves on Thanksgiving dinner and surely had plenty of leftovers back home.

At least, that was the mindset he had when he agreed to being on the opening shift for Black Friday.

Hot Dog on a Stick hadn't been his first choice for a job; actually, he thought that he'd be a shoe-in for getting rehired at Santa's Workshop, just like he'd done last year for some extra cash. Unfortunately, he'd been a little too late with his application.

"Food Court's always hiring though," his old boss suggested sympathetically.

So Hot Dog on a Stick it was.

He thought the job would be easy, especially the opening shift for Black Friday. He'd had his training shifts and they had gone so well! He figured they'd be like that. 8 hours of eating funnel cake fries and thinking of the perfect gifts for his friends and flirting with his coworker, Annie, until it was time to go home.

Maybe he'd even get the balls to ask her out by the time they clocked out.

He should have known that expectation would definitely not meet reality.

And everything that could go wrong definitely did.

He'd burned the first batch of hot dogs that they'd prepared as they opened for business. He swore he'd only turned to get a glimpse of Annie's perfect profile for just a second as she talked and laughed with their shift lead. Next thing he knew, the fryer was beeping and the oil was bubbling and he was scrambling to get the hot dogs out as quickly as he could before the fire alarms went off.

His rotation at the register wasn't much better.

You know, he was actually pretty good at keeping track of things in DnD. Jeff was the more superior note-taker, but Gareth was actually the one who caught all of the little intricacies that Jeff seemed to miss.

Taking orders from people was an entirely different story, though. He couldn't seem to press the right buttons on the cash register, and if he did and he got lucky, he forgot to charge them for something else. The line of customers just got longer and longer, and angrier and angrier, and his shift lead kept coming over to fix his mistakes.

He was about to scream when he felt Annie's hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't I take over for you," she smiled sympathetically. "I'm pretty good on the register. If you want to just focus on getting everyone's orders together?"

He swallowed his frustration, nodded dumbly, and listened to the suggestion.

The longer he kept his head down and focused on the task at hand, the more dejected he felt. This job was chaotic and fast-paced and unlike anything he'd ever done in his life. There were so many eyes on him and he kept messing up. It had only been 3 hours and somehow he felt like he never wanted to come back again.

Soon, it was time for him to take his lunch. He was already so sick of the smell of food that he skipped his own lovingly-packed leftovers in favor of walking around the mall. As he dodged wayward customers shuffling from one store to the next, laden with shopping bags, he contemplated ripping his stupid hat off his head and quitting.

Money or no money, he didn't care; his shift lead could take his stupid job and shove it.

When he returned to the food court, though, he saw something that made him change his mind.

Annie was in the back, sitting on an overturned milk crate, with her head in her hands as she cried quietly.

"Hey," he said, trying not to startle her. "You ok?"

"No!" she wailed and looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with fire, but they softened as they landed on Gareth. "No. Some lady called me stupid because I wouldn't accept her dumb StarCourt Black Friday coupon. It even said 'excludes food court' on it, and she refused. Then when I refused to get a manager to give her a discount, she squirted me with mustard and said '"'the customer is always right.'"

Lo and behold, the front of her multicolor uniform was stained with splotches of yellow mustard.

"What a bitch," Gareth swore.

"Yeah," she sniffed. "What a bitch."

The two of them stared at each other for a second before they laughed and shared more of their woes with each other.

Gareth quickly realized that as bad as he had it at this shitty job, his coworkers had it just as bad, if not worse. And it would all be ok, because they had each other to complain to and make faces at.

So he might quit, one day. Maybe even tomorrow. But it certainly wouldn't be today.

6:00AM Dave - Spencer's Gifts

"Where do you think you're going, David?"

Dave froze at the voice behind him as he crept closer and closer to the front of the store. He turned and found himself under the unsettling--and quite frankly creepy--gaze of his boss, Henry Creel.

"Uh," he fidgeted. "Hey Henry. What's up? You need me on register?"

He knew that Henry most certainly did not need him on register, and he fidgeted under that intense stare as Henry folded his arms over his chest and waited for Dave to fess up to...whatever it was that he was up to.

See, Dave wasn't as stupid as he was making himself out to be here; actually, he was pretty clever. But he was the worst when it came to confrontation.

Expectation.

Or possibly a simple case of indecision.

This whole thing started because he needed a job. Who didn't? But given the way you and Eddie and Gareth went on and on about working at the mall, he'd been enticed into applying at almost every store at StarCourt.

Spencer's had been his dream, short of rock star or sex symbol or Geddy Lee's muse. How could it not be? The lewd t-shirts and the gag gifts. Of course, with a manager like Henry, he thought that he'd bombed the interview.

That's why when Mr. Newby had called and offered him a seasonal position at Radio Shack, he'd said yes immediately.

Dave had been ecstatic. He already liked the jovial, older man. He was not only friendly to his customers but he was friendly to his employees too. Dave really felt like he was part of the family when he'd gone into orientation.

So why was he currently at Spencer's?

Because after he'd hung up the phone with Bob, Henry had called to offer him another seasonal position.

His dream job at StarCourt.

What could he possibly do but accept the job? Accept both jobs. Especially when Bob was so nice to him, and Henry was so off-putting.

Dave figured...he was done with school, there wouldn't be anything wrong with having two jobs and juggling both schedules and band practice and DnD. That should've been the end of it.

He'd gone to orientations and training shifts. He got shiny plastic name tags and keys to the locked cases and quickly made friends with his coworkers. Everything was going swimmingly.

Until his Black Friday shifts overlapped entirely.

He tried to bring it up to both of his managers but every time he tried to open his mouth and say something, he lost his nerve.

In the end he figured if he was smart about it, he could work both shifts simultaneously.

And he had been smart about it. Radio Shack and Spencer's were almost right across from each other in the same wing at StarCourt. With the massive crowds of customers to take advantage of, plus some well-planned breaks and lunches, and some over-staffing for the big day, he could sneak across the hall every so often and no one would know any better.

He switched his name tags and his keyring, dedicating his left pocket to Radio Shack and his right pocket to Spencer's.

And it had been working.

Until now.

He and Henry stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to break, but Dave had never been good at staring contests and Henry seemed like he never needed to blink. Dave's eyes watered and his resolve wavered as his fear of confrontation got the best of him.

"Alright," Dave threw his hands over his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it, I just couldn't tell you that I had a job at Radioshack or Bob that I had another job here. I didn't want to let either of you down. And I know I should just pick one store, but I like both jobs and I...I don't know...I don't know! I'm sorry!"

He hung his head in shame and waited for the older man to yell at him or tell him that he was fired or to get lost. He wouldn't even blame Henry if he turned him around and gave him a swift kick in the ass.

Instead, his boss crossed the distance and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, you could've just told me about the situation with your other job," Henry told him earnestly.

"Seriously?" Dave asked, dumbstruck.

"I'm not gonna fire you because you have a second job," Henry snorted. "There's nothing wrong with that. Joey works weekends at Bradley's too, and I work with him to make sure he isn't overworking himself as much as I can. I know I can be a little...intense sometimes, but I'm your manager, not a villain."

Dave forced himself to laugh along with his boss.

"I'll let you have an extra fifteen if you want to go and explain the situation to Bob. And you can decide which store you want to finish off the rest of your shift at."

"Alright. Thanks Henry."

Henry clapped him on the shoulder and then nodded towards RadioShack.

Dave thanked him again and then started to walk away, when he paused and turned back to Henry.

"Hey, uh, how'd you find out?" Dave asked. "That I was sneaking out of the store?"

"Well," Henry took a breath and folded his arms over his chest. "It took some serious observation skills, some detective work on my part. You honestly did a good job of sneaking back and forth in my opinion. I didn't realize it until five minutes ago when you made one fatal mistake."

"Seriously? What did I do wrong?"

Henry took a step forward and flicked a finger against Dave's chest.

"You're still wearing your Radio Shack name tag."

9:05AM Jeff - Sam Goody

Jeff was a pretty easy going guy, if he could say so himself.

He was funny, he was level-headed, he was attentive and a good friend, and he could get his friends out of a pinch if and when they needed him. And since he started this job, he found out that he was a pretty damn good employee too!

But today, of all days, he had a problem.

"Hey Jeffy," his coworker, Gina, snickered over the headset. "Your stalker is back."

And that problem was named Edward J. Munson.

"I think he's hiding behind the dump bins of discount cassettes Jeff, if you wanna deal with that?" His manager chimed in, causing Jeff to groan and abandon his spot in the back of the store.

Jeff couldn't exactly say that he blamed Eddie, really.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Eddie was the reason they were both in this predicament in the first place.

Jeff had just wanted a job, just like everyone else, and he figured it would be really cool if he could work at Tape World alongside Eddie. It was a job that revolved around music, and over the course of the last year or so, Jeff had really witnessed Eddie develop another layer of confidence in himself, especially after losing it all the first two times he failed to graduate.

Now look at him, he was a keyholder at a job he was really good at, he finally graduated high school, and he had a girlfriend? He had really come into his own.

Jeff felt like it was his turn now.

Especially as he put any serious college plans on hold so they could focus on the band once Gareth graduated in June. Sure, he took a few classes at the tri-county community college and even had a job at the book store on campus. But music was his passion, just like Eddie's. So a job at Tape World made the most sense.

Only Eddie had said no.

Actually, he blamed you. Said you told him not to help his friends get a job once-upon-a-time, because that just put a strain on friendships.

And Jeff could understand how you'd come to that conclusion; shit, they had enough creative differences with Corroded Coffin sometimes.

So Jeff turned to the next-best option: Sam Goody.

Because there wasn't just one music store in the mall. There were two. Just because he couldn't work at Tape World didn't mean that he couldn't work at any music store.

But that had been a little too much for Eddie to stomach, apparently.

"Traitor!" he had wailed when Jeff excitedly broke the news to him. He'd fallen to his knees and clutched his chest as though his heart was about to burst. "How could you do this to me? To us. Didn't you learn your lesson when we watched the Godfather? Never go against the family Fredo!"

"It's just a job Eddie," Jeff argued as he nudged his friend where he was dramatically lying prone on the ground. "I'm not a traitor. I'm not going against the family."

No matter how much Jeff tried to defend himself, though, Eddie couldn't seem to get over the hurdle. Especially not today of all days, where he crept down the hall to sneak into Sam Goody and spy on Jeff every chance he got.

Breaks, trips to the loading dock to take out garbage, he even brought you along when you guys went on lunch together. He tried to be as stealthy as he could, ducking behind displays or holding a magazine over his face, but the whole Sam Goody staff recognized Eddie after the first two hours of the day. And after a good 9 hours of endless greetings and sales spiels and customer interactions, Jeff was starting to lose his mind, hallucinating Eddies all around the store. If someone wore a denim vest or leather jacket or a pair of brown eyes stared at him through a video display, well that must be Eddie.

Now his shift was almost over, enough was enough, and Eddie needed a swift talking to so that Jeff didn't have to put up with this nonsense for the rest of his life.

Or, at the very least, until his boss got sick of Eddie's antics and fired him.

Jeff circumnavigated the store so that he could sneak behind Eddie, and when he found the older boy crouched behind a cardboard standee of Cyndi Lauper, he lifted his foot and kicked Eddie right in the ass.

"Fah...rts," Eddie caught himself before he swore in front of a group of kids. He turned and glared at Jeff. "Farts, Jeffrey. What the hell was that for?"

"Why are you playing Mission: Impossible in my store, Ed?" Jeff questioned in response.

"I think you answered your own question there," Eddie sniffed haughtily. "Mission: Impossible. Reconnaissance. Scoping out the competition. Someone has to do it, especially since someone decided to turn to the dark side."

"I didn't turn to the dark side!" Jeff threw his hands in the air. "I'm not a traitor, I didn't betray our friendship, because I work at a rival store that you do."

"No but that's exactly what it is. I wouldn't help you get a job at Tape World, so you decided you'd break my heart by working for my nemesis."

"I don't think Sam Goody is your nemesis, Eddie," Jeff snorted.

"It's commercial," Eddie argued. "It's mainstream. It's--"

"It's a job," Jeff interjected. "I make $3.50 per hour and I get one free tape per month if I work more than 20 hours. It's fun here, I like my coworkers. I like the job. And I'm sure I would've liked it if I worked at Tape World with you too."

"You could've had fun selling candles at Wicks and Sticks!"

Jeff felt a pang in his chest, and although he could see the pain in Eddie's eyes, he needed to put his own feelings first. For once.

"I wanted to work someplace I enjoyed." He shrugged dejectedly. "You're always telling us to follow our hearts. So I did. And if that means that I'm a traitor...that I'm your nemesis now...I guess that's exactly what I am. And you don't need to worry about driving your nemesis home from work Ed. Have a great day."

He turned on his heel to head back towards his section to finish off his shift, heart plummeting into his ass as he realized that this nonsense probably cost him his closest friend.

But a hand clamped on his arm and stopped him before he got much further.

Jeff turned back and raised a questioning brow at Eddie.

"Can I help you find anything today sir?" he asked.

Eddie's mouth opened and closed a few times as he found the right words, face scrunched with, what Jeff knew was, self-loathing. Finally, he spoke.

"I thought," he paused for a moment to lick his lips. "I thought you took this job because you were mad at me for not getting you a job at Tape World. I hadn't realized it was because you actually wanted to...to work at a store like this."

"Damn Ed, are you the only one who can suggest music to people?" Jeff snarked.

"Considering I have the correct taste in music, yes," Eddie responded without missing a beat. But his expression got soft again. "But I'll let you tell people to listen to...I dunno Bon Jovi or whatever it is you guys sell here. As long as you're having fun doing it."

"I am," Jeff nodded, and then smiled widely. "I really like working here Eddie."

"Good."

"Good."

"Alright then," Eddie cleared his throat and clapped a hand on Jeff's shoulder. "We're good then."

"Yeah."

"Then I only need to come and spy to make sure they're treating you well."

"No more spying Eddie!" Jeff laughed.

"Fine!" Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "No more spying."

2:35 PM Eddie - Tape World

Eddie was exhausted.

He hadn't expected to work a double, but he seemed to draw the short straw when Paulie showed up for his shift and promptly puked all over the front of the store.

Lucky bastard, getting some kind of food poisoning from Thanksgiving dinner.

Honestly, Eddie would rather be sick in bed instead of surrounded by screaming customers and all of the new hires that were now his responsibility to corral around the god damned store.

"Why me?" he whined to Kyle as his boss stood in front of the bathroom mirror and fixed the novelty turkey hat on his head.

"Because I don't want to," Kyle snorted.

"It's good to be the king, isn't it," Eddie swatted the turkey off Kyle's head, earning a groan from the older man. "Come on, I'm already picking up Paulie's shift, have Mitch babysit the new kids. I'll do all the returns. Every customer complaint. For the rest of my shift."

"You," Kyle poked a finger into Eddie's chest, "constantly refer to yourself as a shepherd with your little sheepies. I'm just adding to your flock. It's a bunch of kids from the high school. You need to work on your leadership skills if you wanna promote to ASM one day. This is how you get there.

"Just preach the good word about metal to them and do a few headbangs to hypnotize them, and then have them work on alphabetizing tapes. Easy squeezy."

And God Bless Kyle, because as good of a boss as he was to Eddie and the rest of the team--the older brother they never realized they wanted or needed--he was honestly a liar and an asshole.

Keeping an eye on the new hires was not easy or squeezy.

Eddie seriously didn't think that he had as bad of a time last year when he was new. But he guessed that last year he had a few months of experience under his belt before black friday. These kids were fresh.

A poindexter-type kid named Lawrence--not to be referred to as Larry by any means--who actually complained about how loud the music was inside of the store before he wandered off on his own and Eddie couldn't be bothered with him.

A blue-haired punk girl with a mohawk who dared to call him a freak and criticize him for his t-shirt. He hadn't even needed to tell her to go and organize the tapes, she took the initiative herself after she called the store a pig stye.

Eddie had to respect that.

Lastly, there was the one...

The only...

Mike fucking Wheeler.

"What? How did you get a job here Wheeler?" Eddie scoffed and crossed his arms. "I even told Jeff that he couldn't work here. Conflict of interest. No working with friends."

"Who said?" Mike whined.

"Mom says," Eddie emphasized the kids nickname for you.

"Bullshit. Besides, I'm already hired, and I'm here now. So you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Eddie grit his teeth as Mike grinned smugly.

"Kyle!!!!" He shouted across the store for his boss.

There was no way he was going to work with Mike Wheeler.

Unfortunately, that was exactly what he had to do.

And speaking of shepherd and sheep, that's exactly what Eddie and Mike looked like. Eddie went to help a customer and Mike trailed right behind him. Eddie labeled markdowns, Mike was labeling them too. Eddie suggested Metallica to a customer, Mike would interject with his favorite Metallica album to them.

The album which happened to also be Eddie's favorite as well.

It was honestly getting a bit annoying.

"He probably misses you," you offered when Eddie jogged upstairs to see how you were faring on the second leg of your own lengthy shift. "He looks up to you. And Dustin does too. And Lucas. They all do. This is probably a treat to hang out with you since you graduated. Be nice to him."

Eddie leaned closer to mutter in your ear, "He's waiting outside right now sweetheart."

"Ok," you sighed. "That's a little weird. Send him off on his own break. Give him a task of his own. Show him how to use the register. He doesn't need to follow you helplessly; you're letting him do it."

Eddie tried.

He absolutely did.

Mike was hopeless though.

Register training went about as badly as it could on Black Friday, with several buttons jamming and the cash drawer getting stuck in the open position.

Eddie even tried to get Mike to sweep, and Mike took it upon himself to actually mop the floors. Mop. On black friday. With a store full of customers.

Yeah, that was a disaster.

And Eddie could feel his blood pressure skyrocketing.

All while Kyle oversaw the whole store and laughed at every mishap.

Thankfully, the end of his shift was imminent, and he would be free of Mike Wheeler. At least until the next shift they had together.

"Maybe I'll have a stroke before then," he sighed and headed to the stock room to get his things so he could go and pass out back home.

Only to find Mike sitting at the little desk waiting for him.

"You did good today, Wheeler," he sighed and beelined for the little locker that held his things. He at least tried to put a little bit of a positive attitude on for Mike. It was his first day, after all. "It'll all get easier next time, you'll see. Just like learning to ride a bike."

"Uh," Mike scratched the back of his neck and shuffled back and forth. "I don't think I'll be coming back."

Eddie froze and stared at the younger boy.

"What?"

"Yeah, I...I just don't think I'm cut out for a job like this," he shrugged. "You make it look so easy."

"Practice. It takes practice," Eddie insisted. "What did I just say? Learning to ride a bike. You've gotta fall off a few times first. Scrape your knees and all that shit."

"Well, I think I'm in intensive care with the number of times I fell off today," Mike let out a self-deprecating laugh. "So I think it's time to return the bike. I'll tell Kyle when I leave."

"No you're not gonna tell Kyle shit," Eddie demanded. "Because you're not quitting. Come on Mike, I've seen you face the craziest monsters I could throw at a player in DnD and not blink an eye. You've got bravery, you've got guts. What is this?"

"This is different Eddie. I'm brave when I have my friends around," Mike sighed. "When I'm alone, I'm worthless."

And oh, Eddie Munson's heart--which was, admittedly, pretty big to begin with--grew three sizes at that.

Maybe you were right, that he was just being a grouch because Mike was a little snot-nosed punk. But Mike was one of his snot-nosed punks, and he wasn't gonna let one of his friends think that they were going through it alone.

Because he had thought he'd been alone so many times, and all he had to do was look past his own nose to see that there were plenty of people there to rally for him.

He took a breath and crouched down so he could look Mike in the eye.

"Hey kid, you're not alone here," he began gently. "I wouldn't have told you that you did a good job today if I didn't mean it. And it might seem like you're alone here because it's a new and scary experience. But you're not alone. You have me. And I'll be here to lead you through until you can face the scary world that is StarCourt on your own. You hear me?"

Mike's eyes darted back and forth between Eddie's before his face broke into a wide smile.

"Thanks Eddie," he cheered.

"Don't mention it."

"I'll do my best, I promise," Mike insisted. "I won't let you down, and...and..."

"I said don't mention it," Eddie stood straight and ruffled Mike's hair, then nodded towards the door. "You better go clock out and head home. I'm sure your mom has a turkey sandwich waiting for you at home."

Mike scurried out of the stockroom and Eddie turned back to his locker, and when he closed it, Kyle was suddenly there, grinning like the cheshire cat.

"Look at you, developing those leadership skills," he told Eddie proudly.

"I fucking hate you," Eddie snarked at him, then sighed. In that moment, he realized that this was a passing the torch sort of moment. Kyle had passed it to him when he gave Eddie a chance, and now Eddie was passing that torch to Mike by giving him the chance. He wouldn't fuck it up.

"Thanks Kyle."

November 28, 1986 Claire's - 12:10AM

You were dead by the time you and the closing team trudged out of StarCourt.

The mall itself looked like something out of a horror movie. The lights were off. It was practically abandoned and trash was everywhere. The mall muzak was shut off and there was the sound of a distant store radio that was still on somewhere, playing a haunting, off-tune saxophone.

But you survived. You and your team and countless other teams survived the epic StarCourt 24 Hour Blowout and you, thankfully, would be working the mid-shift tomorrow so you could sleep in.

You all exited the mall and into the employee lot, and you waved goodbye to your team as you approached the van that waited where Eddie had parked it almost a whole day prior.

"You better have gone home and actually gotten some rest," you announced as you threw open the passenger door to the familiar sight of Eddie and a bag of McDonalds, while Beth softly played on the stereo.

You pulled the van door shut behind you as Eddie sung along and then leaned across the console to drop a sleepy smooch of both greeting and gratitude on his lips.

"I did after I finished my double," Eddie said after a few soft kisses. "How are you doing?"

"I'm hoping that this fucking spectacle doesn't become a tradition," you announced and gestured towards the mall before you dug into the bag of food. "I don't think I can do another twenty-four-hour Black Friday again."

Eddie took in the sight of you, looking even more worse for wear than you had last Black Friday during a normal 8-hour shift.

"Yeah, well, you know what they say," he chuckled. "Gotta do something more than once if you wanna consider it a tradition."

"And is this our tradition now?" you asked.

"What? One of us has a rough Black Friday shift and the other feeds them."

"No," you snorted. "McDonalds and KISS when you pick me up from work?"

Eddie contemplated it for a moment, "you know what, it's not the worst tradition to have. What do you think?"

You sighed and sunk into the passenger's seat as you chomped away on hot, salty fries. You knew that you wanted to ask him about his day, and about the rest of the band and how their shifts went, but for now...

"I think it's perfect."

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 7 (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6

Chapter Summary: You and Buck are officially a couple, but it isn't an easy start for either of you.

Word Count: 3k Warnings: none

It’s strange how effortless it is to go from being Buck’s best friend to his girlfriend. Maybe that’s because you’re still best friends, only now, you can make out with each other. Buck being on medical leave is kind of perfect timing, too, because none of your coworkers suspect anything. They aren’t surprised you spend most of your time at his loft. When they wonder how Buck is doing, they ask you; they know you know him best.

“Woah, hey, be careful!”

You and Buck are sitting around his table. Well, you’re sitting at the table, and he’s off to the side, sitting in one chair while another elevates his leg.

You look up at Buck and roll your eyes. “What, you’re gonna sew it back together?”

You’re holding a pair of his navy slacks and ripping apart the left pant leg.

“It doesn’t mean you had to rip them,” he chastises.

You lift up the pants, and you have to admit: it’s not your best work. It’s even, but the edges are frayed.

“Yep, looks terrible.”

“It’ll be fine!” you assure, setting them back down. “We’ll just tuck it in the top of your cast.”

You sit in an uncomfortable silence.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Buck eventually asks.

You sigh. He had a follow-up appointment with the surgeon today, which wasn’t great. Granted, it could have been much worse. The fracture isn’t healing as expected, so he wants to perform another surgery. It wouldn’t be a minor surgery, either — he’d be replacing the rod and using bone grafts instead.

You lean back in your chair and cross your arms. “You already know what I think.”

You and the surgeon think Buck should wait a few more weeks before surgery. Buck, being Buck, disagrees.

“The sooner I have the surgery, the sooner I can get back to work.”

“We’re talking about your ability to walk, Buck,” you say slowly. “We’re talking about your health, your life.”

“No, being a firefighter is my life!” Buck shouts. “It is the only thing I have ever done that was important and that mattered, okay? Without that, I-I don’t have…”

His eyes are red, and his voice is breaking.

“You will still be Buck, okay?” You say, kneeling in front of him. “We’ll all still love you. There are lots of other important things that you can do with your life.”

He stares at you, then looks away and clenches his jaw. “Do you know how hard it is to watch you walk out that door every day? Leaving me behind to just sit here and stare at a wall? Knowing you get to go do the one thing I want to, but can’t?”

You press your lips together. “Buck, I’m sorry, I never thought about it-”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he interrupts. “I-I want you to keep working. I just want to be working with you.”

You move closer, setting a hand on his face and pressing your foreheads together. “I know. I know you do.”

He reaches up to hold your wrist. The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours.

“People assume we choose this life; I'm not so sure. Sometimes, I think this life chooses us.”

Everyone is gathered around foldout tables in the station loft. There are two rows: on one side sits the 118 staff, and on the other side is Eddie’s family. Bobby and Eddie stand in front of everyone.

“For those that answer the call, there can be no doubt, no equivocation,” Bobby continues. “It's not just the lives of those we serve that depend on us, but our own. The lives of our fellow firefighter and first responders. Today, we welcome a new brother into those ranks. After a year of hard work and dedication, I am proud to officially declare that your probationary period is at an end. Welcome to the Los Angeles Fire Department, Firefighter Diaz!”

The two men shake hands as everyone claps and cheers. Christopher stands up and approaches Eddie, offering him his helmet. Eddie picks Christopher up into a hug.

Something draws your eyes to Buck, who’s sitting next to you. He doesn’t see you looking, so you watch as he claps and smiles for his friend.

It’s crazy to think that Eddie’s only been in your lives for a year. In 365 days, he’s become the third closest person to you, right behind Buck and Hen. Something about him, in both a personal and professional sense, fits so perfectly into your life.

Everyone disperses to converse and get lunch from the catering table. Eddie makes his way around the small crowd. Eventually, he makes it to the table where you and Hen are sitting.

Hen pulls him into a sideways hug. “Congrats, Eddie. This is well earned.”

He thanks her and pulls her in a little tighter.

You rise out of your seat and pull him into a hug. You turn your lips to his ear in a whisper. “I’m proud of you.”

Eddie squeezes you tighter. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. For a brief moment, the only thing between your bodies is a held breath.

You separate, but he keeps his hands on your arms. He chuckles and dips his head down.

“What?” You ask, lips curving into a confused smile.

“I’m just… I’m glad I met you.”

You smile warmly as you pat his arms. “Ditto.”

You hear some shouting and laughter. Across the loft, Buck and Chris are playing a game on the TV console. You see Christopher laugh and rest back on the couch while Buck leans forward, pointing at the screen. He gives Chris a gentle push, which makes him laugh harder.

“You two are a thing, aren’t you?”

You turn back to Eddie. You look him up and down. His hands are now buried in his front pockets, and his smile isn't as wide.

You could try faking it, but he’d call you on it in five seconds flat. “We’re that obvious, huh?”

Eddie shrugs a little. “To me, I guess.”

Your smile softens a little.

‘I’m not saying it can never happen.’ The sound of your own words keeps bouncing around your head. You essentially told this man that you could see sharing a life with him… if the timing wasn’t wrong. A strange sensation settles into your stomach. You wonder why it’s the right timing for Buck. You wonder how Eddie feels, knowing he has time to spend with you while also knowing his best friend’s time is just a few minutes sooner. You wonder if it’ll ever be Eddie’s time, and wondering this makes the feeling in your stomach more than a little bit worse.

“Well, you seem happy,” Eddie says, cutting into your thoughts. “I’m happy for you both.”

Part of you hopes he means it, and the other part sort of hopes he’s lying.

You and Buck spend the next few months growing closer. He has the second surgery, and you’re there to help him recover. For now, you’re not sharing work hours, but you’re sharing time. You’re telling your stories, and he’s telling his. Your relationship sews itself like a quilt, each day getting cozier and heavier. The extra warmth is worth the extra weight.

It’s still weird not working with him. Now that he’s going through re-certification, he at least has something to keep himself busy. Before that, he was always at his apartment when you got off work. You’ve been spending most of your free time at his place. You can’t remember the last time you spent the night at your own place; you just pop in occasionally to grab something.

You blink awake, rubbing at your eyes as you yawn. You slowly sit up, and the pleasant smell of fresh coffee greets you. You rub your eyes again, and when you open them, you see Buck standing at the top of the stairwell. He’s already dressed, and he’s holding a mug.

“Hey,” you smile. “You’re up early.”

Buck smiles back. He sits on the edge of the bed, handing you the mug. “I’m heading in now, wanna get a jump on things.”

“Today’s your final eval, right?” You ask as if you don’t already know the answer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“Nah, watching me pretend to save lives isn’t as important as actually saving lives.”

“Well, you’ll be done with pretending by the end of today,” you remind. “You’re gonna do great.”

He grins. “You’re just a twelve today, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back around 8 tonight,” you confirm. “I’ll make dinner! We can celebrate.”

“Sounds perfect,” Buck smiles again.

You return the expression. God, you can’t remember the last time you were this happy.

He looks at his watch. “I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, then.”

You nod and bite your lip to hold back a massive grin.

Buck springs to his feet. He kisses you on the forehead before trotting down the stairs. “Love ya!”

Before you can say anything, the front door opens and closes. He’s gone.

“It was just… weird,” you say, tapping your finger against the steering wheel. “I mean, we’ve implied it, but we’ve never said it, you know?”

You’re chatting with Hen in the rig. You’re on your way to a scene call, but it’ll be a few minutes before you arrive.

She figured out you and Buck were dating a few days after it started. Hen’s always been able to read you like a book, so you didn’t even try to deny it. Truthfully, it’s nice to have someone to talk to. The only other person on the team that knows is Eddie, and you’re friends, but not kind of friends. Talking to Eddie about Buck would feel like talking behind Buck’s back.

“So you said it back?” Hen asks.

“He was gone before I could.”

“Do you want to say it back?”

You sigh. “I mean, I kind of feel like I don’t even have to. He knows I love him. He has to know. …Right?”

Hen shrugs. “Just because he knows doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell him. He might need to hear it, even if he knows.”

You pull up to the scene, and it effectively ends the conversation. A car ran through a crowd of pedestrians using the crosswalk and T-boned another car. Once you’re out of the rig, Bobby assigns you and Hen to the most critical pedestrian while Chimney and Eddie check on the driver.

“Hey there,” you greet, grabbing a C-collar from your bag. “What’s your name?”

“Shannon,” the woman musters. Her lips are pale and her voice is raspy.

“Hi Shannon, my friend Hen and I are going to look you over, okay?" You say as you start an IV. "Where does it hurt?”

“Nowhere,” she answers. “That can’t be good, right?”

“You’re in shock; we won’t know the extent of your injuries until we get you to the hospital,” you assure. “Can you wiggle your toes for me?”

You look down at her feet. They aren’t moving.

You place your hands in hers. “Can you squeeze my hands?”

Her hands sit limply in yours.

“I’m not doing anything, am I?” Shannon asks. She shakes her head as much as the collar will allow. “That’s bad. My husband, he’s a paramedic. He’s said that people with severe spinal cord injuries either die or probably wish they were dead.”

“No one’s dying, you hear me, Shannon?” You say, squeezing her hand, even if she can’t feel it.

Shannon. Her husband is a paramedic.

“Eddie,” you whisper before whipping your head around.

He’s already barreling towards the three of you. You stand up, taking a few quick steps forward. You place a hand on his chest to stop him from moving closer.

“Eddie, let me handle this,” you say in a low voice.

“How bad is it?” he asks, staring at his wife. “Spinal injury?”

“Maybe worse.”

Eddie pushes past you and kneels beside Shannon.

“Vitals are trending downward,” Hen says as she pulls her stethoscope from her ears.

“We need to get her out of here, now!” You order, ushering in some paramedics and EMTs.

Eddie stands by and watches as you and some other first responders transfer her onto a backboard and gurney. He then follows you and Hen as you load her into the rig.

“I’m riding with her,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You turn to him, pressing your lips together. “Eddie, it looks like a cervical spine injury. We’ll probably have to intubate her. If we do that, there’s a good chance it’ll never come out.”

Tears form in his eyes. His jaw sets. He nods slightly.

“You need to say goodbye,” you whisper.

You end up intubating her in the ambulance. When you’re hitting the ER, her heart stops, and you begin chest compressions. They code her for about half an hour before Eddie says enough is enough. They call her time of death. Eddie goes to fill out paperwork while you pace around the waiting room.

He comes out a little while later, holding a plastic bag full of Shannon’s belongings. You stop dead in your tracks and just stare at him.

You rub your hands up and down your thighs. “Eddie, I’m so-”

Eddie pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. You return it in full force.

You open the door to Buck’s apartment. He’s in the kitchen with his back facing you. A bottle of champagne sits in a bucket of ice on the island. You hear a sizzling sound and watch his arms move. You close the door a little louder than normal.

“Hey, you’re home!” Buck says after he turns around. He’s holding a skillet in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say, dropping your bag and jacket on the floor by the front door. “I thought I was supposed to cook.”

“Well, since you were running behind, I figured I’d get a jump on things,” Buck says.

You smile. Even though it doesn’t feel genuine, you hope it looks it. “So you passed, huh?”

“In record time,” Buck adds, returning to his cooking. “Cap should clear me in no time.”

You kick off your shoes and take a seat at the kitchen island. “I’m proud of you. …I love you.”

Buck stops what he’s doing. He turns to face you again, a puzzled look on his face.

“You said it this morning, on your way out,” you say. “I say it in a lot of different ways, but I realized I never told you directly. So… I love you. I need you to know that.”

Buck folds his hands together and leans on the island. “Did something happen at work?”

You smile sadly. “Yeah. Uh… you know Shannon?”

“Eddie’s wife?”

You nod. “She got hit by a car when she was walking in a crosswalk — C-spine injury. We had to tube her in the ambulance. She coded and died in the ER.”

Buck takes his hands in yours. “Are you okay?”

Tears start to form, but you quickly blink them away. They aren’t yours to shed. “I’m fine. I mean, I was just doing my job.”

“How’s Eddie?”

You clear your throat. “Um, about as well as can be expected, I guess? He kind of just… took off. I called him a few times, and he texted me back saying he’s at home with Christopher.”

“That poor kid,” Buck mutters.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, playing with his fingers. “Life is short, so… I just needed to know that you know.”

Buck smiles softly. “I know.”

He begins to cough.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

He steps away, waving a hand as if to tell you he’s fine. He cups the other as he coughs into it.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” you say, already standing to go to the cupboard.

Buck puts his free hand on your shoulder, stopping you. When he pulls back his hand, it’s spattered with blood. Your eyes widen as you look up at him.

“Buck?” you ask, setting a hand on his waist.

He starts coughing again, but this time, a flood of dark red blood flows out of his mouth and down his chin. He stumbles backward.

“Evan?!” you shout, helping him to the floor.

“You got lucky. Most people who suffer a pulmonary embolism aren’t in the same room as a medical professional. It saved your life.”

You’re sitting beside Buck, who’s lying in an ICU bed for the second time this year. You keep his hand in yours, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand.

“What caused the blood clot?” you ask.

“Clots, plural. There's the one that hit his lungs, and then there's two more in his leg,” The doctor explains. “As to the cause? It's unclear.”

“Yeah, but he just got a clean bill of health last week,” you argue. “This came out of nowhere.”

“Did it?” The doctor counters. He looks at Buck. “No pain or tenderness in the leg? Any skin discoloration, swelling?”

“...I thought I just pulled a muscle or something.”

You run your free hand over your face.

“Okay, um, well, great. Look, I'm not dead. You found the clots. When can I get out of here?” Buck asks.

“We'll move you to a room and keep you on the anticoagulants. Tomorrow, we'll run some more tests. And then we'll see.”

You thank the doctor for his time, and he dismisses himself from the room. You stare at Buck.

“I wasn’t ignoring this,” he says slowly.

“When did the symptoms start?”

“...A day or two ago.”

You stand out of your chair. “Dammit, Buck.”

“I didn’t know what it was,” he argues. “I thought it was a leg cramp or something.”

You start pacing. “If this happened when you were alone, you could have died.”

“But I-I didn't, okay?” Buck says. “Can… can you just sit down again? Please?”

After a moment, you sigh but ultimately listen to him. You take his hand again, this time with both of yours.

“The last time you were in the hospital, I told you I was scared of losing you. I hope I don’t have to repeat myself,” you say quietly.

“You don’t,” Buck assures. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[romanarose]

Safe With Me

Eddie Brock x fem!reader (Some Venom x reader)

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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Summary: You open up to Eddie about being sexually assaulted. He takes care of it.

Warnings: mentions of past sexual violence. Actually literal violence lol but its okay because he's a bad guy. talking about how hard it is to report and victim blaming.

dividers by @kodaswrld

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

Eddie held you close on the couch, letting you tell you're story the way you wanted to. You sat straddled on his lap, resting your head on his shoulder because you said this made you feel extra safe. Like he was all around you. Sometimes, if things were extra rough, venom would come out like a blanket of sorts around you, wrapping you up in his warmth. Today, you thought it might be overwhelming.

Eddie knew something had happened to you, the way you were skiddish when you first started dating. And not that he was complaining, but it was a little odd to wait 2 months to have sex. Still, that was your choice and you were worth waiting.

He wasn't an idiot, he could read the signs in your behavior, so he made sure you're first time together was filled with the most explicate consent you could dream of, and was always conscious of your non-verbal ques in bed. Eddie liked to think he was always the kind of guy to pay attention to that, but with you, he was extra certain.

As he got to know you, you made passing references of a bad past, and he let you know he was ready to listen when you were ready to talk, but you were a private person and wanted to wait. You and him talked about exes, and nothing stood out.

Finally, a few months in, you and him were having a movie night. Rewatching your favorite Disney princess movie Eddie was nice enough to indulge you in and Venom was thoroughly enjoying, when you pause it.

"Can I talk to you?"

At first Eddie thought you were about to dump him, but when you looked at him with sad eyes, he knew it was something more serious.

You sniffle against his wet sleeve. "That's it, I guess..." You said as you finish telling the story. "I know, *sniff* i should've reported it but... I dunno this was when 50 Shades was coming out and I was afraid he'd say I just liked it r-rough..." A fresh little bought of tears come, and Eddie is quick to rub your back in comfort.

"Ah, shit, hey now... I know it ain't like that..." He presses a gentle kiss to your hair. "We believe you, baby. Trust me, I'm not tryna scare no one away from reporting, but man... it can be fucking brutal."

You nod against him. "And, and I was just barely having sex, you know? The idea of a stranger doing the rape kit, having to tell a hundred different people what happened knowing they don't believe me... and I couldn't really prove I'd said no... and god, having to tell my parents?!?! I couldn't do it Eddie! i just couldn't do it!"

"Shhhh, shhhh... it's okay, I know, I know... you made the best choice for yourself."

You sit up, rubbing your red and puffy eyes. "Now I see colleges have this thing, well, some of them, the You Have Options Program where you can report and choose the level. Like if you want to report but not press charges, or you aren't sure if you want to press charges but they can gather evidence... or maybe you just want something on record incase they offend again, you know?"

"That's good, that's real good baby. i think they'll help a lot of people." As a journalist, Eddie had reported on many rape cases, or times people had tried to cover up sexual abuse of different kinds. he'd seen many young girls crying, expressing the same feelings you had. He knew better than to say 'it's not your fault' even if he still had the urge. Instead, he thumbed away a tear as you looked down at him. "We believe you, we don't think any differently of you, okay? We're here to help you."

You smile at him, fondness in your eyes. "Thanks for listening, Edide. And Venom." You lean down and give him a chaste kiss on his plush lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The next day...

Eddie is furiously typing on his laptop while you're at work.

"Okay, so she said college, he went to college with her."

Venom excitedly shouts out the name of your old school, happy he remembered, but Eddie shook his head, frustrated. "That's a big fucking school buddy, we need to narrow this down." he pulled up school records. "She said they were in theater, right?"

"YES! AND HE WAS IN HER SPANSIH CLASS!"

"Right! Fuck yeah! and she took Spanish her freshman year because she wanted to 'get it out of the way'. Okay I can narrow down the year, look up students who took Spanish that semester... then i just gott pull up the theater pamphlet... she said he was an actor... alright, now we just gotta cross reference the names of people who acted in that production with spanish class students..."

10 minutes later they had a match.

Pulling him up, he matched the description of the student to a T. He would have a senior at the time, same hair, skin tone, facial features...

"Now, we just gotta find him."

That didn't take long either. Eddie was able to find everything he needed. His job, his home address, everything was right there.

That night, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead as he left for the night. He told you he had something to investigate for work, and you didn't ask any questions.

"And you're sure you don't wanna come over after you're done?" You give him a pout. He hated to leave you alone, everything you'd trusted him with made him just want to watch over you all the time... but who knew how messy this would get?

"I might be out late baby, i don't wanna wake yuh at 4 am. I'll bring you lunch tomorrow, how 'bout that?"

that makes you smile. Food usually did.

"Okay. Lunch tomorrow it is."

The house was way too nice for someone like him, someone who hurt innocent younger girls. He was a corporate executive too, and Eddie was sickened to find he'd had a string of bad luck keeping assistants and interns, no doubt preying on more vulnerable young girls, using his power to keep them complacent. Men like that never changed. He wasn't gonna feel bad.

The light turned on the the living kitchen, revealing where Eddie sat drinking his expensive whiskey.

"Your security is shit, man."

He looked shocked, dropping his briefcase and freezing in fear. Eddie figured its not often he's the powerless one. He was going to let him cook in his adrenalin.

"Whatever you want, you can have it."

But Eddie just shook his head, standing up. "I don't want nothing here but you."

"i have-"

Eddie interrupted him with your name, "Remember her? Freshman girl you raped in college? Or does that not narrow it down enough?"

He chuckled nervously, raising his hands and backing up. "Listen man, you her husband? i don't know what she told you, but i swear to god she wanted it."

"Shut the hell up."

"Begged me for it!"

"Oh yeah? That why she had a black eye and a busted lip after?"

"Hey," he shrugged, trying to play it cool like he wasn't about to dash for the door. "What can I say, she liked it rou-" His words turned into a scream as Venom took over the body, biting off his head before he could say another word about you.

Eddie's face popped from behind the goo. "Venom! i had a whole speech planned!"

"TOO LATE! I was tired of him talking!"

He rolled his eyes but hey, what could he do about it now? Nothing. At least the asshole was dead, couldn't hurt anymore women.

The next day, at lunch time...

Baby <3: Meet me at my place, I went home early.

Eddie Boo: Everything okay?

Baby <3: Just come please?

When Eddie let himself into you're apartment to find you sitting on the couch with your arms crossed, eyes wet.

"baby, are you oke-"

"Do you want to explain to me why, a few days after I tell you I was raped, he ends up dead with his head ripped off?"

Eddie blinked. "Uhhhh.... coincidence?"

You stand, walking over to him. "Venom, got anything to say to me?"

Venoms head popped out behind Eddie. "WE ARE NOT SORRY AND HE TASTED DELICIOUS!"

"Venom!" You gently flick him. "Eddie, why would you do that?"

"Ahhh, come on baby, you know he deserved it! I'm not gonna apoligize for killing a rapist, and i don't feel bad!"

Eddie watched your face soften, lip quivering a bit. "I know. I know he deserved it I just... it's just a lot, right now..."

"Ohhh baby...." Eddie took you into his arms as you began to cry again. "Do you feel guilty? Is that it? Cause this was all me, nothing to do with you."

You sob into his strong chest. "I can't believe you love me this much."

His heart almost broke at that. "Of course I do! baby, don't you know we'd do anything for you? We'd break a guys finger off for look'n at yuh wrong, of course we'd kill for you."

Eddie scooped you up, carrying you over to the couch where he sat you down on his lap. "You're gonna be safe with us, always. You know that don't you? We're always gonna protect you. never gonna have to worry about anything again."

"LETHAL PROTECTOR!"

You chuckle in his arms, and Eddie holds you close. "Yeah, the lethal protector. No ones ever gonna hurt you like that again."

OKAY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING EDDIE/VENOM

Eddie will be a part of the team in my very gay series The Prodigals and maybe has gay sex with marc spector who knows! yet to be determined. but there will be a lot of gay sex. logan and wade, logan and scott, scott and kurt. It will be 99% gay.

Anyway!!!! thanks for reading!!!! i love fics were rapists die so I thought eddie was appropriate! I saw venom for the first time at the start of the month, literally watched one and two the day before i went to see three in theaters. CRIED

if anyone has any good eddie series, something quality im looking for a masterpiece here! eddie/venom is 100% welcome! so is gay shit.

If you are new to my blog just coming in from this fic, I mostly write Logan Howlett, and oscar isaac/pedro pascal characters. Mostly fem! reader but i like to dabble in other stuff, like trans readers or trans characters, lots of gay shit.

Anyway, hi if you're new!

Have a great day!

I wrote this after already writing a chapter of rooms on fire, and after doing a bunch of homework AND battling bronchitis soooooo plz be patient my writing isnt the best in the first place, i type and spell very badly.

[lady-of-blossoms]

WHEN LOVE FADES

Pairings: Toji x Y/N

From this poll

synopsis: Toji’s relationship with Y/N was always a little tricky but Y/N still stayed even though her friends told Y/N how he wasn’t a good partner until he forgets their anniversary and leaves Y/N waiting for him at the restaurant for 6 hours, then when Y/N finally realizes Their love faded.

WC: 1k

CONTENT WARNING: Toji is an asshole, he forgets about your anniversary, alcohol abuse, A HELLA LOT OF ANGST, Fighting, Blaming.

A/N: Sorry this was so unintimate, i didnt have much motivation. Class has been really hard on me rn:(

I sat at a small table, a single white candle flickering in the center, illuminating the carefully crafted menu that lay untouched before me. The whispers of other couples floated around, filled with laughter and sweet nothings. I glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was 9:30 PM, and the reservation had been at 3:00 PM. I could almost hear my friends’ voices in my head, their warnings echoing like a distant memory.

“Y/N, you deserve better than Toji. He’s not good for you.”

But yet, here I was, waiting. Toji and I had always walked a tightrope of chaos and comfort, his flaws often eclipsed by a flicker of charm. He’d sweep me off my feet one moment and leave me questioning my worth the next.

I poured the last drops of water from the pitcher into my glass, staring through the translucent surface. The ashy blue of his eyes would twinkle with mischief, the kind that made my heart race in ways I didn’t even want to admit. But today, they felt as distant as he was.

By the time the waitress cleared my empty table—half-heartedly touching her arm as if to say “maybe you should go”—I felt the weight of hopelessness pressing down on me. Had I been foolish to wait? To believe that today would be different?

Suddenly, the bell above the restaurant door chimed, breaking through my encasing silence. I straightened, my heart stammering as I turned to see Toji step in. He looked disheveled and slightly out of breath, his typical swagger dampened by the despair that surrounded him.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed when his eyes found me—first a flash of relief and then, confusion.

“Where have you been, Toji?” I hardly recognized the coolness in my own voice.

“I… I lost track of time. Things got a bit out of hand.” He ran a hand through his messy black hair, something he did when he was trying to gather his thoughts.

My heart ached as the memories swirled around us—the fond moments we’d shared, entwined with uncertainty and unfulfilled promises. “You forgot our anniversary,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

“I’m here now, right?” he said, and there was a hint of desperation in the smile he tried to muster. “Let’s make the best of it.”

“Six hours of waiting is a long ‘now,’ Toji.”

The flickering candlelight danced between us, casting shadows around the worn features of his face. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just… I lost track. It won’t happen again.”

But something shifted in my heart. Each year, we’d been caught in this carousel of doubt and affection, wit and sorrow. I could internalize this moment, mark it and brush it aside, but tonight, something felt irrevocable.

“The bill…” I started, but Toji cut me off with a wave of his hand, a look of guilt etching across his face.

“We can talk about that later.”

“Can we?” I challenged quietly, rage bubbling beneath the surface. “How many ‘laters’ do we have to go through before we face what’s real?”

His eyes flickered, and for a moment, I saw the man I fell in love with, his heart laid bare in the dim light, vulnerable and exposed. But just as quickly, he masked it with nonchalance.

“It was just a bad day, Y/N. We’ve all had them.”

This was our never-ending dialogue—Toji, the eternal optimist, hiding behind reasons and excuses, often leaping from the serious to the unserious, brushing aside feelings as if they were dust. And I, the craftsperson of resilience, sweeping them under the proverbial rug of sanity.

“Six hours, Toji.” I breathed, the hurt echoing in the quiet as I struggled to find reasons to hold on. “What if today wasn’t just a bad day? What if this is just how things are now?”

Toji remained silent, swirling the ice in his glass. It was haunting, the way he could make the space between us feel like a chasm filled with regrets. We used to dance around this exhaustion, always painfully avoiding the heart of the matter.

Realization hit me like a sudden rush of cold. Our love was unfurling like an old leaf disintegrating into dust. The passion, the thrill—it was fading.

“I don’t want to keep waiting, Toji. Not for you or anyone.” I could feel the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes, a testament to the years gone by.

“What are you saying?” His voice slipped, and I could see a hint of panic in his eyes.

“I think I’m saying goodbye.”

“I won’t let you go ma…” he stated fiercely, but even that sounded hollow amidst all the despair coursing between us.

“It’s not about wanting or not wanting. This isn’t working anymore. I’ve tried to hold our little family together long enough…” A silent pause filled the air, thick with words left unspoken. What once felt sacred was now fractured, barely held together by strands of laughter obscured by shadow.

Toji reached for my hand, squeezing it tight as if it would anchor him to the present moment. “Please, don’t walk away,” he begged, his voice raw and pleading.

But I needed to walk. I needed to step into the light of clarity, however painful. I wished I could splinter away his demons, sprinkle his life with joy and love, but you cannot save someone who doesn’t wish to be saved.

“I need to know I’m enough for myself first, Toji,” I whispered, wiping away the tears that had betrayed me. “Maybe one day, you’ll understand.”

With one last lingering look, I stood and slipped out of the restaurant, leaving echoes of what once was behind me, wrestling with the shadows of heartache, yet free from the chains of those delicious, yet debilitating memories.

I guess this really was WHEN LOVE FADES…

🏷️:

@bananaminn @morikosa @morikosahh

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 1: December Moon [A1]

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

A/N:  IT'S THE FIRST OF DECEMBER! IT'S RICKMAS TIME!

I hope you're ready for a month of Alan Rickman fics - I certainly am even if most of them have yet to be done 😂 I have, however, managed to write the first draft of a few here in the beginning, and I'm super excited to kick this off in what is now the traditional way - with Colonel Brandon of course! 😍👏

Happy December, Happy First Advent, Happy Sunday AND HAPPY READING!

Tags/TW’s: First Meeting, Love At First Sight, (Light) Mutual Secret Pining, Miscommunication (Body Language), Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 4.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

December Moon

There was little to do but wait. Mrs Marble fussed with my dress, Miss Abel forced my hair into an elaborate updo with entwined pearls and loose locks around my neck, and I stood there like a mannequin. Never had I thought December would be ruined for me. But, here we are, and I’m for once not a ball of sunshine close to Christmas.

“There we go, Miss. All settled,” Mrs Marble said with a twinkle in her little eyes surrounded by wrinkles. “You shall be the centre of attention, such a beauty you are, Miss.” My nose wrinkled at her words. In anyone's eyes, that was all there was to me. Beauty. Golden locks, hourglass figure, pale skin dusted with a blush to highlight my cheekbones, and clear blue eyes not unlike the sky during a cloudless summer day. My appearance to any and all was that of a stunning woman in her prime at twenty-one springs of age — soon twenty-two.

“Time to go, Miss.” “Give me a minute alone.” They nodded and departed while I stepped up to the silver-framed wall mirror displaying the entirety of me. Dreary… The only thought echoing in my head was a sad affair to have when looking upon oneself. My eyes were not bright today, my smile not flawless, my shoulders slightly slumped and the weight atop them only grew heavier by the minute.

Outside, the snow fell slowly, just enough to dust the ground in white but no winter wonderland appeared beyond the large windows lining one side of my bedroom. In the middle sat a matching door leading out to the stone balcony, which was privy to a beautiful view of our large gardens with fountains and a large span of open grassland beyond the intricate layout of the land created by a landscape artist.

I stepped out into the cold, my skin instantly pebbling in the light breeze despite my dress covering nearly every sliver of skin from my collarbones and down. The sound of carriages, people chattering, and hooves stomping against gravel travelled through the air and a sensation most dreadful crept through my veins. This Christmas would be unlike any other. No use dawdling any longer…

I sighed, and as I began to turn, a black dot appeared on the horizon where the grassland slope began tilting toward our estate. I watched for a moment as the dot became an outline of a rider in full gallop, and wished — for just a moment — that I could climb my mare and gallop across the grasslands for a while to rid myself of the weight resting on me. No amount of riding will ever be able to take away the demand to marry before the year is out. How cruel a demand… There is none I hold even the smallest amount of affection for, how can father demand such a thing of me?

⁛•⁛

The hall gleamed. The polished marble floors, the spotless mirrors and golden candelabras reflected the glow of thousands of candles and the odd lantern here and there. The entire ballroom I entered, at a slow pace so as not to ruffle my perfectly fitted dress too much, was a haven for all things white and gold. The two colours I abhorred, along with pink in every hue. Still, it was a wonder to behold. A fairytale-like sensation lingered in the warm air while jolly, upbeat music filled the whole space where the rich and mighty of society had gathered. None were the wiser, none knew the true reason for my father’s sudden invitation to a “December Ball” — it had little to do with the season, and everything to do with my unwed state.

When Mother passed during the early summer, he became obsessed with marrying me off. Always under the guise of me being protected… Lies. For one, I was in no need of protection, nor were I in need of any rich man to keep my house should anything happen to my father — I was the last and only living relative of our family so all would become mine once he was old and worn out of life. I was perfectly protected in that sense.

“Miss Haymnick,” said a man in his mid-twenties, his brown hair neatly trimmed and his green coat perfectly tailored to his lean body. “Good evening,” I said with a short nod and curtsey. “May I request a dance with the lovely lady?” How bold of you. “No, sir. I am not sure I shall dance this evening,” I said with a soft smile to ease the blow. He merely nodded and stepped away with a slight rush and pinkish ears.

I moved further into the room, watching the well-dressed people filling it. My eyes landed on my father, dressed splendidly as usual and with a glass of brandy in his glove-clad hand. He was a handsome man, my father, but he was handsome in the traditional way — the boring way that seemed to be all the rage with the three young ladies standing a tad too close to him (I was no fool, he was a sought after man, my father, but he would not remarry — my mother had been his all and I was all that was left of her so protecting my future heritage was a priority of his in turn).

My eyes kept skimming the faces and clothes of those all around me. They were mostly known to me, one way or another, but none had ever caught my interest and did not manage to do so now either.

There were such shallow values, such lack of depth in those within the confinements of the ballroom I nearly felt my own soul dim under the weight of finances, politics, and outer beauty not deep enough to allow any true value to shine. Do not judge so harshly. You don’t know every person in this room. My mind whined at me, and I had to yield under its words — yet still, I felt as if I had met every person now present. Of course, my father had only invited the grandest of the grand, the richest of the rich, the most important in society to this celebration — which purpose had not been revealed to those attending. Such fraud…

I turned and Lady Hilliard stepped up with her son in tow. Oh, fantastic. I steeled myself as she beamed at me and forced her son, Mr Timothy Hilliard, to stand a step closer to me than her. “Miss Haymnick, what a marvellous celebration your family has put together, such lovely decorations and such high spirits.” I curtseyed slightly. “Lady Hilliard, Mr Hilliard.” I looked between the two and they both greeted me with a curtsey and a bow. “How fine of you to attend our celebration of December’s arrival,” I said, smiling to the best of my capabilities.

Mr Hilliard’s eyes roamed all over my being, the way he studied my neck had me swallowing a lump. He wasn’t a nice man, or one I found particularly attractive even if he in general was quite the catch in most young women’s eyes. “We are so sorry about Lady Haymnick, Miss Haymnick. My son—” she nudged him forward “—wishes to offer his condol— Oh, my word, is that—” she interrupted herself as the pair’s eyes moved past me and toward the opened double doors of the ballroom.

I slowly turned, as many had begun looking the that direction as well. “Oh, my word, it is!” Lady Hilliard squeaked quietly, a nearly hissed whisper of shock. I could not fathom her reaction to the man, my own being completely different. I had no idea who the tall man with broad shoulders dressed in red, gold, and black was. That did not stop my heart from skipping a beat at his unorthodox beauty, though.

I fully turned without realising, watching the man stride into the room with a regal air about him none I had ever met before could ever match. He was stunning, straight-backed but not high-and-mighty looking. He appeared strong and unfazed yet the way he moved spoke of a soft elegance. What truly made my breath catch in my throat was his eyes, though. They were on the smaller side, but in the golden light they shined while speaking of uncharted depths hidden beneath the slight veil keeping his secrets safe.

As I had watched, stunned, he had moved through the room and were now passing me without so much as a nod to Lady Hilliard who tried fervently to catch the man’s attention. His eyes, though, were fixated on me. My heart thumped harder and harder until he passed me by and turned his head — looking in the direction of my father who now walked toward the man in turn with determined steps I rarely saw him stride forward in.

They shook hands, exchanging pleasantries I could not hear over the murmur and music in the room. “Lady Hilliard,” I said, without looking away from the man’s back. “Who is that?” “Who is— Who is that? My word, you are young, Miss Haymnick. That is Colonel Brandon. A fine gentleman, rich and proper, unreachable yet gentle in his manners. He was sought after in his prime when ladies would line up to attend his balls and gatherings. Well, the few moments he was at home, that is. The man has been all over the world, fought in wars and returned unscathed time and time again. His estate, Delaford, was in disarray upon his overtaking of it but now it is most grand.” She blabbered and rushed the words out in a quiet tone so none other could hear, but I did not miss the longing in her tone.

“Is he wed now, then? Being so sought after?” I never thought you’d be of use, Lady Hilliard, with your gossiping from one end of the country to the other. “Oh, goodness, no, Miss Haymnick. He never married, he never sought a wife after his first love was lost. He is a broken but fine gentleman. My niece would do him good,” she said, the last part slightly under her breath and as I watched her for a moment her eyes seemed calculating. “She is too young for him, but nonetheless, he would be a fine catch,” she continued just as quietly, and the hunger in her features made me wrinkle my nose in disgust. She was a prime example of all things wrong with all in the ballroom. It was only thanks to my mother I had turned out differently, if that is such a grand thing given my circumstances, I don’t quite know…

“He’s such a catch,” she continued and my eyes hardened. “Rich, fancy, away most of the time and— Oh, he’s looking this way!”

I turned my head, unable to untangle my features from the disgust and annoyance before meeting the man’s eyes. His eyebrows drew together, his head gave a slight tilt as I managed to school my face into indifference — removing the ugly emotions and hiding the absolute flutter of emotions he stirred in me. His eyes hardened, though, and his thin lips turned into an even thinner line a second before I averted my gaze as his handsome features turned too harsh for my heart’s liking.

“Excuse me, Lady Hilliard.” She gave me a nod at my words but her eyes were hooked on the handsome man who now had looked at me differently. Perhaps my father had said something not to his liking about me?

I had no idea, but for whatever reason, his eyes had turned sad when he viewed me and the veil I had noticed before had solidified in a sorrowful manner. I might have been mistaken, perhaps he’s just like all the other frauds here… Calloused, cold, money-hungry and politically attached. My shoulders slumped.

I grabbed the many layers of fabric to lift my dress, making my escape from the ballroom easier as I rushed my steps to get away from the room giving me a sinking feeling of despair. One of the men in there would have to become my husband, and the suddenly appearing ray of hope when Colonel Brandon entered with his beautiful eyes, soft yet strong elegance, and stunning features, vanished as swiftly as it had appeared.

There was no more to it, I would be wed to someone I had no interest in — someone who would never understand me, would never discuss the depths of poetry an entire afternoon or share my love of fictional stories all through the night, nor would I be able to discuss the intricate turmoil within an artist viewed only through the harsh brush strokes across a canvas painted many years ago.

I did not wish for a husband to keep me on his arm for display. I wanted no husband whose conversation was limited to finances and politics. No husband would ever suit me if he did not have a depth to his soul, a passion beyond money, or even a love of something that existed to please the heart and not the bank — something that garnered emotions without any further value.

I had walked myself right through the grand hall, out the doors, and along the gravel path around the house in my deep thoughts. I shivered in the cold evening air as the wind tugged on my hair and pulled at my dress.

The sinking feeling in my gut only ever grew with each passing thought, each hope of my heart being lost. I stopped at the frozen fountain, the ice glistened in the moonlight every moment the clouds parted above. My foggy breath seemed to shake out of me as his eyes haunted me — the way they changed without me having any knowledge of why. They had been so beautiful, so deep, so captivating when he passed me. Yet, when he looked upon me again, and our eyes had locked, his features had changed so swiftly.

“There is no hope…” I whispered while looking out over the gardens with a most forlorn sensation within my chest. “You will catch a cold.” I spun around, startled by the perfect voice taking me by surprise with my mind occupied of self-pity. “Who’s there?” I asked, looking toward the corner of the house where the silhouette of a man stood.

The silhouette moved closer, each step allowing me to see more clearly as the lantern light behind dimmed in intensity and the light of the pale moon turned brighter. Colonel?

My breath stuttered out of me, the wind tugged at the ends of his long coat as he walked toward me in a harsh stride. “You will catch a cold, Miss Haymnick,” he said anew, and I could have sworn my heart did a somersault at the delectable rumble unlike any other I had ever heard. “A lady such as yourself should not be wandering the grounds unaccompanied and under-dressed so late at night,” he continued and stopped just two steps away from me.

The clouds parted as I turned fully toward him. His harsh features were cold to view when his eyes seemed so closed off and empty. “Colonel Brandon,” I said and curtseyed. “Miss Haymnick.” He nodded his head deeply, his voice slightly harsh yet wonderful. “Have I offended the lady?” I blinked. “Excuse me?” He straightened. “I may be no beauty to look upon, but even that has yet to warrant such a display of disgust upon a woman’s face before introductions have even been made. Therefore, I ask, have I offended the lady in some manner?” he asked while holding my gaze captive.

I blinked a few more times, seeing the gorgeous man up close again — this time in pale moonlight — had my mind out of sorts and my heart in an uproar. He was striking, stunning, powerfully elegant. “No, you have not, Colonel,” I said, my eyebrows drawing together while his features softened a smidge. “Nor have I looked upon a handsome man as yourself in such a manner, sir.” He arched his eyebrow and a flutter broke out in my stomach. “I may be up in years, but I am not blind, Miss Haymnick.” “I’m sorry?” “You viewed me with the most abhorrent of looks, disgust smeared over your beautiful features. I shall not pretend I have not received harsh welcomes before, but paired with the lie you but a moment ago told regarding my looks I cannot—” “Lie? I have not lied, nor have I viewed you with disgust, sir,” I said, my hands balling to fists at my sides.

He reached up and unclasped his cloak at the neck. “You said I am a handsome man,” he said as he stepped forth, his voice slightly lower — softer. “After having viewed me with disgust, I find that to be a lie, miss.” He draped the warm cloak over my shoulders as I leaned back, taking half a step away from him before he had time to tie the string around my neck.

I glanced down, the fabric was lush and warm while thick and heavy at the same time. It smelled like heaven — of hay, horse, musk and wind. How something could smell of wind I could not fathom but as I drew a deeper breath to calm my raging heart at his sudden proximity it hit me with full force.

“There,” he said, taking a step back. “You ought to dress for the weather, miss.” I looked up at him, stunned at his sudden kindness amid the accusations of lies. “Thank you… But, wait, I have done none of the things you accuse me of, sir.” He arched his brow again. “A good person, as I have heard rumours of you being, ought to strive for honesty. No?” “I am honest!” I shouted and stomped my foot in frustration — Mrs Marble would have a fit if she saw my manners. “You saw me,” I continued loudly, “before I had time to—” no! He cannot know of anything, a man like him would laugh at the pitiful feelings my soul harbours. How could a colonel ever understand such things…

His eyes had widened, the shock of my outburst apparently enough to spook him out of the withdrawn, colder state he’d been in ever since our eyes had locked for a second time in the ballroom. “I am not lying, my good sir,” I said quietly. “A man such as you, so perfectly attuned to the world we live in, would simply not understand, as I cannot understand the likes of men such as you.” “Men such as me?” “Yes. Men such as you, colonel.” “And you have met many men the likes of me?” I merely sighed at his calm words, nodding toward the estate housing a party filled with men such as him.

He chuckled and shook his head slightly. My heart stopped beating for a second. “So that is how you view me, after a handful of seconds. Then I shall bother you no more, miss. Excuse me,” he said and clicked his heels before turning to leave. “Sir!” I called, not truly knowing why but my heart roared at him leaving. Something about him was so different to any other I had ever met despite the words I had just spewed in my dismay.

He stopped, only half turning so I could view his profile before he turned his head fully. I took a step closer, curious and something else moved around within that curiosity, too. “Yes?” His voice, so dark and deep, made a shiver slip down my spine. “Are you not?” I asked. “Am I not, what, miss?” “Like them.” “Life would have been easier had I been, but I’m afraid I must disappoint you.” “That does not disappoint me, colonel.”

His eyes widened as I took another involuntary step, something about him pulled me in and the more time passed the softer his expression turned and the brighter his eyes appeared. There were layers there, depth and that warmth I had always searched for in the eyes of others. So I stopped two steps away, spellbound by the beauty he was — even if that was shallow of me.

“Is it true? That you think me a liar for calling you a handsome man?” I asked quietly. “I am not a handsome man, make with that what you see fit.” “But, you are—” his eyes widened “—and I do not know what to make of the way you changed when you viewed me for a second time.” “You viewed me with disgust—” “I was disgusted by Lady Hilliard, for how she spoke of you.” “And, how did she speak of me?” he asked, his voice turning even softer yet it kept the depth that rumbled through me like gentle thunder in the distance. “I’d rather not say such things, but she wishes for you to marry her niece.” “Many wish to see their nieces and nephews wed—” “No, not like that, sir. She spoke about your-, your wealth and how you are never home.” “I am not home, for there is no reason to be. I have wealth for I have none to spend it on beyond the orphanage and my estate.”

I blinked at him, feeling lost for a moment. “If I had a wife, I would be here more. If I had a home, and not a mere estate, I would venture out into the world less. As it stands, none have caught my attention. That is, until tonight.” Why my heart faltered and saddened by his words I could not say. The man was far beyond me in years, he was a sophisticated and aged gentleman with beauty I could barely comprehend — every second I looked upon him he simply turned more handsome, inside and out. The way he spoke of a wife, of a family being what makes a home, it was beautiful and poetic.

“Then why are you standing here, sir?” I dared ask while I gripped the edges of the cloak he’d hung around my shoulders. “Because you are standing here, miss.” “I— I don’t understand, should you not pursue her before the evening ends?” “I am, by asking if I had offended her, given her change in view from the most beautifully wondrous look rivalling that of clear summer skies, to one as harsh and cold as disgust distorting her stunning features unlike any I have ever witnessed before.”

My breath snagged in my throat in the blink of an eye. My shoulders stiffened and as he held my gaze unyieldingly I turned warm on the inside. Those eyes had seen horrors and beauty all around the world, yet now they appeared solely focused on me with a warmth within them rivalling the sun.

“You find me beautiful?” I asked, my voice a mere whisper. “Most beautiful.” I sighed and averted my gaze. “As they all do.”

His cold finger came up under my chin and I jolted back. It was not proper for him to touch me, for us to stand so close with no chaperon near. “I apologise,” he said. “Have my liking of your appearance offended you?” I shook my head. “No, sir.” “Then why..?” “I am beautiful, sir. I am aware,” I said with a soft smile while drowning in his eyes that had gone most soft and deep. “It is not always something…” my voice trailed off, for how could I explain that my beauty was a curse in the disguise of a blessing?

“It does not matter, miss. I am no match for you, either way. I shall take my leave so another, more suitable match can sweep you off your feet as you deserve.” What a romantic thing to say… “I wish you the happily ever after you deserve,” he said a breath later and clicked his heels together with sorrow in his eyes that tugged at my heartstrings. I had no time to make my brain understand he was leaving until he was out of view.

I jolted. I finally connect with someone and I, what, shoo him away? Oh, no… I drew an unsteady breath, feeling that warming scent of him waft up my nose. I ran after him, my feet thudding against the ground. “Colonel!” I called as I rounded the corner, just as he galloped out of the gates too far away for him to be able to hear me over the snorts of the horse and spraying of icy snow around its massive hooves.

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

A/N: I'll be adding links to parts as I go along through Rickmas - so if you revisit or find Rickmas2024 later on you'll have access to direct links to continuations. My plan for this year is several serial fics and a few one-shots here and there as I know I'll get stressed and need breaks where I can just write whatever my little heart desires from time to time. Rickmas is INTENSE to write for, so 🙈

Anyway, how we feeling? We ready for this month's shenanigans? 😊

TAGLIST: @lizlil @snapefiction @darkthought15 @monstreviolet @flowerdementia @marvelschriss @once-upon-an-imagine @ravennight41 @caseydoodles98 @slytherinprincess03 @theconsultingdetectiveswife @grimmyhild @monster-energies @myobscureimaginarium @snowblossomreads @eternal-silvertongued-prince @cherryglossie @setsuna-meiou31 @helena211 @a-queen-and-her-throne @justsaturn0 @turvi @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @sunnylikesfrogs @dianilaws @sassanoe @snapesrn @bernadette-peters12 @sammy-13 @smartowl999 @castleofthorns @serenanight87 @leah1243 @cherihan @poetry-and-tea @evans23 @mamawolfsmith87 @snapesrn @severussimp @slyckman @liv2post @clawsthecactus @sunset90 @meliabrandon @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @thatlittlefangirl @ankhmutes @lessdepressy @snapesrn @theheartwants-what-itwants @slyckman @daddythanatos

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[Dec:2024]

[exitvelocities]

Hiii.... could I perhaps request some jingxiao fic where Pei Siheng maybe picks up on things between his sister and Wen Xiao? 👉👈

fic meme open for fof and mlc! please give me prompts, i'm begging.

*

wen xiao kisses the way she laughs, breathlessly, unstintingly, like she can't wait to share. it's a bounty pei sijing is still adjusting to, with her hard angles and knife edges, with the grief and the guilt still lodged in her throat. it's easing these days, between wen xiao's smile and the quiet presence of her brother's spirit. sometimes she catches zhao yuanzhou watching her with dark, knowing eyes, and she inclines her head in acknowledgement. of course he, of all people, would know— about grief and guilt and wen xiao's healing touch. he must know, also, how much it means to her to have a second chance with her little brother, in a world where such chances are rare.

she's taken to sitting alone for a little after dinner, after any training she might do for the day is done. it's when siheng is most likely to appear, for a few minutes or an hour, for a conversation or a bit of companionable silence. it's comforting to know he’s there, even if neither of them say anything. the finality of her choices can't be undone, but they can have this, an understanding that bridges life and death.

"a'jie," he says today, and pei sijing smiles. siheng observes her for a moment before cracking a grin himself, transforming his face with a type of boyishness pei sijing remembers from their childhood. "you're happier lately."

"of course i am," she says. "i have you."

siheng hums softly but shakes his head. "it's not just me," he says, raising his eyebrows and nodding toward where the others are gathered. bai jiu is squawking, chasing ying lei around the campfire while everyone laughs. pei sijing seeks out wen xiao automatically, the sound of her laughter high and clear, her sweet face cheerful in the firelight. "see," siheng says.

"they’ve grown on me," pei sijing admits, watching as wen xiao tilts her face back, laughing so hard zhao yuanzhou reaches over to pat her back.

"especially wen-guniang," siheng says, and his smile has grown like a toothy canyon across his face when pei sijing whips her gaze back to him.

"pei siheng!" she cries, face warming. "have you been spying on me?"

"of course not. but jie, you're not very subtle," he says, and she swats at him, palm connecting with a solid thunk on his wooden shoulder. his eyes are creased with glee, dancing with laughter he doesn't give voice to. "not to me, anyway."

pei sijing turns away primly, smoothing down her immaculate clothing, reaching for any shred of elder sister dignity she can grasp. "it's none of your business."

siheng does laugh then, the sound soft and fond, a balm for the heart. "you're always my business, a'jie. but i'm happy for you. really."

"thank you," pei sijing says, clearing her throat, still looking away, eyes suddenly stinging. siheng is as grown as he'll get. he'll never fall in love or kiss someone. but he's here. it's enough. it has to be enough.

"goodnight, jie," siheng says, voice fading away, and pei sijing nods.

someone settles beside her in the next moment and she turns, startled, to see wen xiao's sympathetic face. she doesn't say anything, linking their arms together and leaning her head on pei sijing's shoulder. pei sijing lets the touch comfort her, breathing through the grief. eventually, she presses a kiss to the crown of wen xiao's head before laying her cheek against it and closing her eyes. it's all right. she has more now than she ever thought she would. pei sijing is lucky. she'll learn to live with the rest of it.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I have a HC of IV letting reader wear his jacket?

He’s a sweetie, his intentions are pure. But sometimes you make him a little bit evil. There’s nothing ten bucks can’t fix. :)

IV x GN reader

Under the cut ~ <3

“IV it’s gone I can’t find it-“

“It’s probably in the car, quick let’s go we’re already gonna be late.”

You guys stayed up late last night. IV had the guys over for dinner, they ended up staying back for some drinks and before you knew it, it was 1am. After a long night of hosting you both crawled into bed, dead to the world in mere moments, and didn’t set any alarms for the plans you’d made for the following day.

A text from ii is what woke IV up, something about traffic and it being best if you two took another route. Which is how you find yourself here. Rushing around the house like psychos trying to get ready as quickly as possible. Except your good jacket, which you had hung by the door especially to wear today, is gone. You can’t find it. And you have no idea where it is.

“IV, I’m gonna be so fucking cold if I don’t have it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get there if I have to, just get your cute ass in the car.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t in the car.

And now you’re on your way to the meeting spot you agreed to meet everyone at, pretending that you’re not even bothered by the cold. Of course the gathering today had to be in a nice park, it’s lovely and it’s quiet. But there’s not one part of you that can enjoy it. You're already dreaming of a hot shower tonight.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

“IV, just drop it. I'm not in the mood.”

You frown at the ground. It’s damp and it chills your feet through your shoes. You can’t help but silently wish you didn’t come out at all today.

“One day you’ll realise you’re lucky to have me.”

You can’t even question him on his cryptic comments because your thoughts are immediately cut short. He’s draped something over your shoulders, you don’t even care to find out what it is because the only thing you can acknowledge is that it’s warm. The chill in the wind isn’t nipping at your skin anymore. It feels like you can suddenly breathe again. And when you do all you smell is him.

He’s given you his jacket.

Your head snaps to him. Worry immediately eating at your chest.

“Now you’re just going to be cold why did you-“

Oh.

He was wearing two jackets.

“You were wearing two?”

“Yeah. Thought it was going to be colder but I’m just a bit too warm. Was gonna take it off anyways. Lucky you, huh?”

“This whole time? What kind of evil are you?”

He’s smiling at you. He literally doesn’t care. Because you’re wearing his jacket and you look stunning in it.

“The kind of evil that always comes prepared. I remembered two jackets. You didn’t even remember one.”

You’re huffing and rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, but you’re smiling. You feel much better now, and you feel so lucky to have him.

“Thank you. But in my defence I didn’t forget it, it’s gone from where I left it I don’t know what happened… I was sure I-“

“Don’t worry about it, love. The day is saved. Now go say hi to the girls. They’ve been dying to see you.”

“You’re an angel, IV. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently.”

He sends you off with a kiss to the top of your head and a swat to your backside. He watches you part ways for a moment, admiring you dressed up in his favourite jacket. It makes his heart swell and his cheeks warm. It empties his brain and fills it with the impurest thoughts imaginable at the same time.

He watches the girls welcome you into their circle, IIs there as well. He’s happy you get along with his friends. He’s happy they love you.

His ogling is interrupted by a clap to the back from III.

“We get it, mate.”

“Shove off, prick. You’re already on my hit list.”

He has the gall to chuckle.

“Mission success, then?”

“It won’t be if you don’t keep your fucking voice down.”

“Pay up, then.”

IV huffs with a roll of his eyes, but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tenner. Slaps it into IIIs palm and shakes his head.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?”

III can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, yet again.

“Pleasure doing business, sweetcheeks.”

He saunters off with a smile that screams trouble. Headed straight for you. IV watches him say his hellos to you, compliments your ‘new’ jacket with a sickening smile and seamlessly inserts himself into the conversation you were having with II.

He briefly overhears you asking the tall son of a bitch where he disappeared to last night. He makes up some excuse about forgetting to turn his stove top off. IV can’t help the scoff that escapes him. But he doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You actually had him do it?”

Vessel stands next to IV, watching you all cozied up in his jacket.

“I asked him to hide the jacket, fucker took it home with him completely, I have no idea how I’m getting it back.”

“You know he’s going to con you out of another tenner, right? He planned this.”

“Yeah well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Plan worked though.”

“You know, I’ve heard just asking your partner to share clothes works wonders.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Keep your mouth shut.”

Vessel can’t help but laugh at his friend, a big old sweetie pie on the outside with a little bit of something sinister on the inside. Even if it means he ends up with more work in the end.

Vessel claps IV on the shoulder and walks him over to the rest of the group. IV zeros in on you. Comes up behind you and pulls you into his side. You’re in his jacket. You smell like him. You’re surrounded by his friends and you’re glowing.

He’s a very happy man today.

He doesn’t leave your side the whole time. As if you wearing his clothes wasn’t enough, he just needed to keep a hand on you all day as well. You learnt a long time ago that IV gets into these moods, you’d compare him to a lost puppy during these times. He follows you around with hearts in his droopy eyes and a smile that could tell a million stories. He’s so soft and gentle, and listens to every word that slips from your lips. (Except for the ones that tell him to leave you alone.) (You do not need to pee with the door shut.) (You’d think you’d get that by now.)

Sometimes he can reel it in. Like today, surrounded by his friends. But you know just beneath the surface his urges are festering. Every little squeeze of your hand. Or kiss to the forehead. Or quick little cuddles when the wind picks up, are his ways of trying to dampen his own urges to whisk you away, take you back home and bury you both back in bed.

He thought he’d be able to handle seeing you with his name all over you all day. Guess not.

There’s one moment, while you’re out, III was hungry and Vessel wanted a coffee, so you decided to take the short walk to a nearby cafe just down from the park. You and IV hang back, slowly following along but far enough away to be in your own world for a little bit. His hand is intertwined tightly with yours and he’s pulled you so close your arms keep brushing.

“You look stunning, love.”

It’s said in a low murmur, like he wants it to be a secret. A secret that only he knows how good you look. Your nose and cheeks are slightly pink from the chill in the air, your lips are a little bit cracked and his jacket drowns you. But to him you’re just beautiful. The smile you give him almost sends him into cardiac arrest. He thinks if his heart beats any faster it’ll create enough energy to power your house.

He ponders Vessels words. Wonders how you’d feel if he just outright asked you to wear his clothes when you go out together. Or when you go out without him. Or when you’re home for the day. Or when you’re going to bed. He knows you’d say yes, but there’s something about you being so oblivious that gets him all excited. How you unknowingly just let him dress you. Thinking it was pure coincidence, and that you really are just so lucky to have him.

He might tell you one day. He knows he’ll cop a good amount of teasing from you, but until then he’ll settle for watching you feel so at home and safe with him all over you.

____

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, Bub?”

“My jackets back there.”

IV quickly turns to see what you’re looking at. Mid way through tossing his jacket back there now that you’re back in the car, he follows your eyes to the backseat.

And there it is.

Bunched up on the floor like it was there the whole time.

“I must be blind or something, I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Fucking hell… all that and it was here the whole time…”

He turns back to the road and bites back an amused smile.

III might put him through strife sometimes, but he’s clearly not stupid. He makes a mental note to send him a text when you two are home.

Lucky bastard lives to see another day.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading. I love you guys.

[passionwillow]

You Aren't Leaving My Sight Anymore

Hello loves. ☺️ I had a request for a reader going into anaphylactic shock with either Street or Deacon in it. I have so much love for Deacon, so he'll be our guy today. Thank you all for the requests! Sorry if this is a little short.

Warnings: Allergic reaction, angst? I think. Just a lot of worrying and fluff and panic.

You scanned your badge at the entrance of S.W.A.T HQ and walked through the door, smiling and waving to familiar faces on your way. Your boots thumped steadily on the floor as you made your way to your desk, setting your bag down and taking a seat behind the black counter.

You'd started working here three years ago, filing reports and taking care of the paperwork trail cases like these required. Everyone welcomed you with open arms, even people from the SWAT teams taking the time to stop by and greet you. That was how you met David "Deacon" Kay.

Deac had stopped by on your second day to welcome you, and you guys spent the next hour talking like you knew each other for years. It wasn't long before you guys had a first date, then a second, then you were dating.

You got to meet his kids and they absolutely loved you. It was a year later you moved in, and you'd been together almost 3 years now and everything had been perfect.

You logged into your computer and answered a few emails, texting back and forth with Deac about dinner and date plans you guys had. You looked up as Chris approached, smiling and handing you a white paper bag. "Cinnamon raisin bagel, extra cream cheese" You took the bag with a grin and shook your head, humming happily as you opened it.

"Thanks, Chris. Be safe today, okay?" Chris nodded and waved as she walked off further into the building, and you picked off pieces of the warm bagel with as you worked through emails. You and Chris had hit it off as good friends soon after you were hired, and she loved watching the kids when you and Deacon had dates. You were always taking turns grabbing breakfast for each other during the week.

You turned in your chair to grab some paperwork from your filing cabinet, when you noticed it was getting a little harder to breathe. You coughed and cleared your throat, but the tightness in your throat increased and your heart started to race as you grabbed at your throat, breath wheezing.

Donovan Rocker buzzed in and walked into the building, nodding to a few people and approaching your desk with a smile, steps faltering as you saw your red, blotchy skin and the fear in your eyes. "Hey, Y/N? You alright?" You clawed at your throat and the panic set it completely, body trembling as you slipped from the chair and fell to the floor. "Shit- Help! Anyone, get the doctor!"

Donovan's bag dropped to the floor as he yelled at everyone nearby, rushing around the desk and grabbing a hold of you, hands cupping your face. "Hey, just try to breathe, okay? Relax, help is coming." His eyes looked over you in a rush, trying to find any reason for your current state. Your face was going blue and he knew he were really struggling to get any air.

His head whipped towards you desk, eyes falling on the bagel sitting on the white napkin. "Shit." He breathed out softly, and jumped back up, running around to his duffle bag and searching through it, pulling out an epi-pen.

He stood and started back to you when Deacon came running around the corner, brown eyes wide with fear. "Where is she? What's wrong?" Rocker said nothing as he ran back to you, Deacon following and crouching down, hands on your face. "Baby? Can you hear me? Come on - stay with me, we got you."

Rocker popped the cap on the epi-pen and didn't hesitate as he drove it in your leg, injecting you and whispering. "Come on, please work." The tightness in your chest eased, the relief spreading to your throat as you inhaled sharply, Deacon's eyes wide as he brushed your hair back, gathering you up and holding you to his chest.

"Christ, Y/N, what happened?" You gathered your breath and held to Deacon's blue jacket, voice raspy and weak. "I don't.. I don't know. I was eating and then-.. then I couldn't breathe." Rocker watched you both with relief, shoulders sagging. "It was an allergy. You had a really bad reaction." Deacon looked at him and swallowed hard, nodding a quiet thank you as he pulled you further into his chest, whispering. "We need to get you to the hospital. Make sure you're already.

You looked up at Deacon and nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek and sitting up a little. "I can take myself, you shouldn't miss work." Deacon stood and pulled you with him, supporting you and shaking his head. "Like hell you are. I'm not letting you out of my sight anymore."

You cracked a smile and held onto him, legs still shaky and weak as you nodded and looked at Rocker. "Can you tell Chris this wasn't her fault? I'm sure she feels like hell.. And thank you for saving me." Rocker smiled and nodded as he gathered his bag, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Anytime, Y/L/N."

Deacon watched the other man leave and snorted, looking at you and cupping your cheek. "Do you know what that just did for his ego?" You leaned into his touch and laughed, hugging him close and mumbling. "That's what I get for eating a damn bagel."

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game

[hella1975]

there's a very specific kind of vibe that comes with living with your friends in final year that it just does not have in first year or even second year. like as a fresher it's usually the first time any of you have lived away from home let alone with SO MANY people your age and it's terrifying and exciting and randomised to boot so it's generally carnage for a whole year in the best and worst ways, and then second year you pick who you're living with and it feels like for the first time you're doing this adult thing PROPERLY. you have a place of your own now. these are the people you've chosen to live with. studying gets serious etc. but it's still fresh. it's still new. you still don't know how to navigate it. but final year? final year is when you actually get it right. you know how to manage your time better. you know what works for you and what doesn't. studying is the main focus and you've been out in the world for three years now and it's not loud and boisterous like it was in first year and you're not exciteable and awkward like you were in second year. you're comfortable. every single one of my flatmates has their own friend group and we mainly keep to our own social circles, but we'll still meet each other back at the house after a night out and sit in the kitchen or my room to do the debrief. sometimes i'll go days not seeing either of them despite sharing a house but every now and then someone will softly call up the stairs that 'the heating's on!' or one of us will sneeze and the other two will yell 'bless you!' through the walls. the lack of interaction isn't interpreted as dislike in ways it would have been even last year, because we're all just old enough to be past that now and settled enough in our friendship not to worry about it. idk. uni is very loud and unsettling a lot of the time so it's been really sweet to see how almost boringly comfortable final year is.

[rubiesintherough]

.

[pearlymel]

A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,