#also i need to come back here when the heather is out

[vanilleandclove]

how to disappear; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

pittsburgh is roughly 58 square miles, large hospitals in metropolitans are usually 1.2 million square feet. only making ptmc extremely confining with a certain trauma surgeon and senior attending physician in the emergency room especially during hostility.

warnings: emotionally constipated adults, language, talks of children and marriage, semi-medical accuracies (i have several immediate family members in the medical field, this is basically in my regular lexicon), gore adjacent, mentions of past sex, age gap: reader is 30-33, jack is 47-49. word count: 4.1k notes: mdni. call me disorganized, my oc fic is on HOLD, until further notice :3. this is part one of two (?) ask/requests are open!

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“I thought you were working day shift?” Parker asked, your eyes blinked roughly as they adjusted to the bright light of the patient’s board, “What’re you doing stuck down here?”.

“They requested for me to have a change of schedule to be on-call, couldn’t say no to the generous pay raise” you responded, cocking your head slightly to meet eyes with Parker, “Plus night shift always gets the most carnage”.

“You’re sick, you know that?” Parker chuckled, fist meeting your shoulder playfully before she walked off. 

Clipping on your hospital ID was muscle memory, both Heather and Robby referred to as “overworker’s disease”, you saw it as being stuck in the place for several years at a time.

You needed a vacation, sweaty hot sex, vodka, or weed; or maybe just all of those in that order. Your eyes were glossed over from the eyedrops you have administered before leaving Jack’s house, they did good to conceal the hours of crying and bloodshot eyes. 

But Bridget saw through that puffiness and reoccurring sniffle that matched the pout of your lips, she knew you well like you were her own daughter. She knew your breathing patterns were shallow and uneven, the eyebags that became a more pigmented purple, the constant fiddling of your rings. 

She knew you needed a break, a break in bed where you could cry it out and come back renewed with extra hours of sleep and extra takeout. 

“Honey, are you okay?” Bridget inquired, taking off her glasses and tucking them in her scrub undershirt, “You seem out of it”.

Your eyes darted towards her and all you could give her was a nod as you became tight lipped, worried that if you unclench your jaw for a second you’d break. Nevertheless, Bridget smiled and rested her hand on yours, knowing all too well what happened to you. 

What Bridget saw was your hair blown out but tucked up a tortoiseshell claw clip for it to be out of your way. She saw manicured short french tip nails, residue of black eyeliner in your waterline, hints of matte red lipstick that must have been taken off in a rush as it made your lips look as if they were bleeding. She saw gold bracelets of all different textures and patterns, rings stacked beautifully and meticulously, necklaces that would accentuate cleavage with the right dress, diamond earrings that twinkled when moving under the LED lights. 

She saw a woman who had just got stood up. 

“Good evening everybody”.

And she just stumbled upon the reason. 

You closed your eyes and sighed under your breath. 

Luckily being a different specialty department, you weren’t required to be given the gist of speeches by the physicians and nurses. Some may say it due to surgeons being “above”, you say it’s because of different structures in departments- you can learn just as much during rounds in the emergency room as you would post-op, if not, you’ll learn more. Therefore you were able to walk off into the bathroom.

You enjoyed your job, you were grateful for your job that led you to places you never thought you would be. You were grateful for the smiles, the laughter, the songs the patient requested to be played during surgery, the parents or loved ones that would hug you tight, and yes, the gore and carnage. 

You were also grateful that it led you to Abbot. 23, you were fresh out of an internship in Massachusetts, then you wanted a change of scenery. By 26, frequent hookups at your respective places were a casual way to start, end, and continue a week; just in time for your residency to finish and your fellowship to be fast-tracked due your rotations in the emergency department and competency exams. Hookups turned to dating by your 27th birthday, months later, Jack’s house was basically yours too. Now, you’re the attending who’s trying her hardest to hold it all in because a man decided no more to the most constant thing in your chaotic life- in a chaotic profession. 

You had put on a silk dress that flowed perfectly enough to accentuate your curves, you wore lingerie, black heels, and smelt fucking amazing. You shaved, you wore your expensive lotion you could only justify using on special occasions, you wore jewelry you’ve collected over the years and that Jack had given you. You went the whole 9 yards and more. 

“Okay so what is it?” you asked, sighing in defeat and barefooted in the living room, “You don’t want to go out, don’t want to talk about something you know I care about. Fuck Jack, you don’t even look at me when you know this is important”. 

“Sorry I didn’t know dinner reservations were imperative to having a conversation with you” Jack scoffed, stressed and unnerved, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Jesus christ just forget about dinner!” you raised your voice, your throat began to slowly burn, “I don’t care about dinner Jack. I care about being appreciated from my boyfriend when I put on a fucking dress and heels. I care about you walking into that door every morning and kissing me. I care about having sex and ordering fucking pizza” you ranted, your time was almost up as it crept closer to your shift.

“Do you want kids?” he blurted.

“What?”.

“Do. you. want kids?”.

You blinked in confusion, swallowing whatever you had planned to say and again to collect what he had just proposed. “I would like to have kids but with my job and yours, that seems unlikely. I don’t mind not having them”. 

“There was a positive test in the trash two weeks ago that you didn’t think to tell me about” he cleared his throat. 

Your brows furrowed, “It was a false positive, Heather did a work up with full labs for me” you looked to the ground not noting that it would’ve also been nice for him to know both of those things. “If a pregnancy test is sending you to avoid me like the plague; we have a bigger issue here Jack”. 

“It would’ve been nice to know that you were afraid you were pregnant that you told Collins before me”. 

“Do you think I’m punishing you for withholding information that was irrelevant to me after a day?” you were shocked almost, still confused at the hostility, “I wasn’t afraid of being pregnant, I was afraid of false hope”.

“I don’t want kids, that’s just not something I see in my future”.

“Our future” your voice began to crack more and more. Kids weren’t a dealbreaker by any means, the way Jack worded it to be something exclusionary in regards to you is what broke you. “I need you to tell me if this is what’s causing you fucking hurt me”. 

“It’s not- I just think we have a misconstrued view on the future of this” he pointed to both of you back and forth. 

“Jack forget about the sheer possibility of kids, why are you being distant?” you took a step closer as he took a step back, the action only shattering your heart more, the tears began to flow as you straightened your back, “What about marriage?”.

“Same as kids”.

You nodded, looking away from him, “I’m not going to change your opinions about either of those, I’m not going to try”. You inhaled before a sob erupted from your throat, “I have to be able to want those things without feeling like you’re going to walk away. God, you never once spoke about this before so why now? Why all of the sudden vows and kids are a dealbreaker when- if I remember this correctly- the past year you’ve been asking for baby names and what rings I would like? Was it just for show? Was I just for show?”.

“Of course you weren't,” he sighed yet again, his eyes piercing yours, “You’re you, I guarantee you’ll find someone else who wants both of those”. 

“I don’t want someone else Jack” you whispered, one tone louder and you’ll be a wreck in front of him. 

Silence creeped over the room and nothing but the shudder of your breath filled the room, “I guess this isn’t working” his own voice cracked as if his mind betrayed his actions. With that, years of your heart shattered.

“I guess not”. 

Jack was the same guy who held your legs as they rested on his during football games. The guy who tied the strings of dresses and kissed your shoulder, who stared in awe while you did your makeup, baked and cooked with you, danced to his best effort with you. Watched ‘Game of Thrones’ and ‘House of the Dragon’ with you every sunday without fail, not shy of commentary. 

He would fix your hair after sex, clean you up in the en-suite with warm water, would make your toes curl around his waist as an orgasm washed over you, would coax another orgasm out of you. He would massage your clit, knew exactly where your g-spot sat, made your breath hitch and your eyes roll back. He never pressured, only asked a near sixty times if you were okay and comfortable. He would never degrade you even if asked, the most he’d do would be spitting in your mouth and lightly choking you. Wasn’t shy about having his dog tags pulled or you wearing them, loved the twinkle in your eye every time his cock grazed the right spot. The man was a dog. If you forgot an undershirt under your scrubs, his cock would strain from the veins coating your breasts, the slightest graze would send him on a frenzy when you’d get home if both of you were up for it, loved the lingerie just as much as he loved you in pajamas and a worn out shirt from college. 

The same guy that would squeeze the back of your neck to relieve your worries, text you mid-shift about your wedgie and would fix said wedgie in passing, would wash your hair and body. Would watch every movie and TV show with a thousand questions, stare idly at you during every get-together as you mingled on your own with Heather. Every Fourth of July he spent with you, he was at ease, not jumpy or had his heart racing- you thanked therapy, he thanked you. 

He’d stand in front of you and be the same guy during company basketball and baseball games that coached you on the sidelines, guided your arm, gave you water. You wanted to marry him, your parents always said when you do get married, it should be with someone like him if not him. You wanted rings, his and her matching towels, garter tosses and to take off his suit in the same night. He knew that, hell the whole emergency department was well aware of your dream wedding that changed every now and then.

Now you stand there beneath yourself because that is all gone on a random Wednesday. Didn’t wait for the weekend for it to settle, for hell to freeze over. While you went crazy thinking the worst, you had a job to do, and it was barely August. 

Luckily, new staff and medical students were reserved for day shift, meaning you were secretly praying for both Robby and Collins sake. 

“We have a male MVC victim, 10 minutes out, Abbot wanted you on standby” Parker opened the bathroom door only to be greeted with your meltdown, “You okay? Want water or coffee?”.

You shook your head only for her to fully allow herself in, “You and I both know the way you’re crying is going to lead you to dehydrate” she continued, “What happened?”.

“We broke up” you responded, curt and without remorse, “I don’t want to talk about it”.

“Okay, but just know you can always go home”. 

“He’s home”.

You spent two minutes in there trying to gain your composure, worried that the MVC wouldn’t get the most accurate and resourceful amount of care with you like this. Splashing water against your face before exiting and being greeted with the beaming emergency department lights. 

You checked up on three different patients, smiling and asking if they were comfortable and okay with waiting just in case the MVC took up more time than usual. As you left the last, the MVC arrived and both you and Abbot occupied opposite sides of the gurney. 

The EMTs were able to stabilize him as much as they could, “Breath sounds are good so far a little too crackly but acceptable, there’s rigidity in his abdomen I need an chest scan to confirm bruising- I’ll call they always fast track me” you told Jack as you approached the trauma room, grabbing the phone as he took over, “Hey it’s Doctor L/n, I need a chest CT for a MVC victim, his abdomen is rigid and slightly distended with crackly breathing. No- I need you to take me up now, we’re already in a trauma room- okay, thank you see you there”. 

Turning back to Jack, evening out the creases in your navy scrubs, “They’ll take him now, I’ll take him up” you whispered, grabbing a hold of the gurney from the bottom, “Can you open the doors?” you asked, “Get Walsh for me too, if it’s something with his abdomen I shouldn’t do exploratory”. 

“You don’t only do exploratory surgery Y/n” Jack posed the statement as if you were undermining yourself for Walsh to be the scalpel junkie this shift.

“I know, Walsh is still learning the ways of being an attending, if anything I’m making sure she’s equipped to be in my stead when I’m not here” you argued back only for the MVC victim to regain his consciousness, “I know what I’m doing Doctor Abbot”.

“This morning it was babe, by the afternoon it was Jack, now it’s Doctor Abbot?” he queried, as if the whole ‘I guess this isn’t working’ bit was a skit. 

“Last time I checked this wasn’t-“ you looked down to the gurney to see a conscious man with a smile on his face, “Good evening sir, I’m Doctor L/n, you’re at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, I will be taking you up to CT now” you feigned a smile and eyed Jack, he knew that look.

The ‘we’ll talk about it later’ look. 

“You’re in good hands sir” Jack waved off. 

The elevator ride was calming, the tension in the trauma was thick enough to cut with a knife. You learned his name was Raymond Orser, he had a wife and a daughter, served a couple tours in the military, his sister lived in Pittsburgh while he lived in Philly. 

“So, what was the deal between you and salt and pepper?” Raymond asked, his breathing less labored as you both exited out of the elevator.

“Salt and pepper? Doctor Abbot?”.

“Or babe whichever you prefer” Raymomd joked, “Must’ve been a tough fight, my wife and I were the poster board for marital arguments about silly things- one time after my daughter was born we argued about the way the cereal box closed”. 

“He’s not my husband Mr. Orser, technically he’s just a colleague” you told him. Eyeing around you to see who was there, “We dated for 6 years today, it’s our anniversary, was supposed to wine and dine him before our shift but…”.

“Ah. You know, I’m only 39. I’ve spent a great deal of it loving my wife before I had even met her." You made a face that exuded confusion, “I know you’re looking at me crazy, but you just know. When’d you meet Doctor Abbot?”.

“When I was 23, about to be 24, he was also relatively new; he beat me by 3 years. Didn’t start dating until I was 27 and he was 41” you confessed, “What about you huh? How old is your daughter?”.

“She’s seven, had her after I got discharged. My wife and I had a shotgun wedding, very intimate”.

“Okay, we are just about to go into CT, I’ll be on the imaging side, you’re going to feel a little fluid in your IV, it’s to highlight and pinpoint what’s going on internally. I need to know if there’s any metal on you like jewelry below or above the waistline”.

“No, just my wedding ring”.

“That’s fine, this arm is going to stay up away from the imaging zone for the ‘highlighting fluid’, you’re going to feel a bit warm throughout your body, completely normal. If you feel nauseated it’s also pretty normal, we keep a wastebasket on standby so no worries” you clarified, giving him a smile before handing him off to the nurses. 

Going into the radiology room, both the radiologist and technician glanced over to you, “Good evening” you greeted, “His abdomen was rigid and slightly distended, did Foreman tell either of you?”.

They both nodded, putting on their glasses and administering the contrast fluid. “Any plans for the morning L/n? You and Abbot are celebrating your anniversary today, no?” Jackie the radiologist asked, her hand not leaving the mouse and her eyes leaving the desktop.

You shuddered under your breath, inhaling deeply, “Yeah, might just stay in today”.

As the scans progressed one thing became clearer, there was a bleed in Raymond’s organs, non-septic, but still worrisome. You immediately grabbed the intercom mic, “Okay Ray, the nurses are going to get you settled back downstairs for a work up, I’ll go over your scans with Doctor Abbot”.

Turning to the left you grabbed the phone on the desk and dialed for the emergency department, “Hi Bridget, I’m sending Orser down, the MVC victim. He has a rib fracture that's causing internal bleeding, a tension pneumo but his breathing sounds were clear- lightly shallow” you cleared your throat, “Tell Abbot to do a finger thoracostomy, I’ll meet him down there”.

Afterwards you phoned the surgical wing, “Good evening, I need an OR available on standby, I have a MVC victim with a tension pneumothorax and internal bleeding”.

Some days cardio and general hogged the ORs, trauma and the emergency department always had an OR prepped in the morning shifts. Gloria liked to boast about her surgical teams, how each specialty had their own set OR.

Heading down to the emergency room, it was less chaotic on the surface- the waiting room said otherwise. Every room was filled minus the trauma rooms, the hallway had spillover, and curtains were drawn. You decided to take your leave to peds, being greeted with a little girl with a rattling cough.

“Good evening, I’m Doctor L/n, who is this princess?” you greeted, snapping on your gloves.

“Your scrubs are different” the girl mentioned mid cough.

“Sorry, this is Amanda, she’s been having this ugly cough for two weeks, she woke up choking on phlegm” a woman spoke up, “I’m her aunt, her mom’s on her way”.

“Ah okay, well, Amanda, my scrubs are different because I’m a surgeon here. Don’t worry, you’re not a surgical case, I just help down here” you clarified, putting your stethoscope on her chest, “Did she cough up phlegm, if so what color?”.

“It was brown, though in the car she had a cough attack and I swear I saw red”. 

“Any history of asthma? Was she around any strong fumes?” you asked, “Amanda can you give me two big inhales and exhales?” you requested, putting your stethoscope on the girl’s back. As she inhaled and exhaled, all you heard was rattling.

“My sister- her mom has asthma, nothing too serious, she self carries though. Mandy got sick last week, her fever was moderate but she sweated a lot of it off during her sleep”. 

You nodded, putting your stethoscope back around your neck, “I’m going to order a chest x-ray, from the sounds of it, Mandy here has acute bronchitis, probably from a viral infection that went unnoticed” you smiled to them both, “Is she allergic to paracetamol or ibuprofen?”.

“No, just soy”.

“Perfect, due to her age, I’ll prescribe extra strength Tylenol and an albuterol inhaler, two puffs about 5 seconds apart when needed to stabilize your lungs sweetie” you told her aunt, walking out to tell Bridget for an x-ray on Amanda. 

“Abbot’s asking for you in south 14” Bridget said as you walked off, all you gave was a nod.

Opening the door and being met with a scene you would not have guessed to stumble upon out of the confines of your home. “Bridget said you wanted to see me?”.

“I’m not a prideful man” he sighed, you moved closer to the hospital bed he sat on, his prosthetic beside him, he was rubbing a cream on his stump- it smelt like eucalyptus. Jack never complained of phantom limb pain, though his hip would hurt every now and then. “But I do know that I am self-conscious”.

You remained silent, allowing Jack to speak. You did most of the talking earlier, now, it’s his turn. “I don’t know if I’ll be a good dad, weddings require some level of dancing that I just can’t put aside that difference to give to you- and I want to, I can’t shake that feeling” he sucked in a deep breath, “There are days where I have coax myself off the ledge, today being one of them”.

“Jack I-” you sighed in disbelief, “I don’t care about those things- ever- you’re not taking away anything by us not having kids or not getting married-”.

“You want those things”.

“There was a point in my life where I wanted you, one thing I know for certain, I never regretted it. Though I would’ve regretted not doing anything, you gave me the best sex of my life” you joked lightly, “If loving you and being with you means I don’t get a wedding or kids, then I’m okay with that. Though, you would be one hell of dilf”.

He chuckled at the comment, “Shit, I’d be in my 60s by the time the kid was in high school”. 

“Still my sexy man” you commented, “I love you okay? But we have a job to get to and a vet who is keen on you”.

“Orser?” Jack questioned as he stood up with your assistance, popping his prosthetic back into place. You nodded, giving him a longing look, “I can’t kiss you- wouldn’t be able to stop”.

“Yeah yeah, happy anniversary cowboy” you smiled, feeling your phone vibrate with a page to the OR, “Shit, emergency surgery”.

“I love you cowgirl” Jack spoke up as you ran off. It was already 4:30 in the morning, the heat kept piling up. 

The surgery was needed for a thoracotomy on a 67 year old who took a fall down her stairs which caused a cardiac tamponade, it took 2 hours and 40 minutes to repair, drain and control her hemorrhage. Caught early, it took less time than usual. You reeked of pungent acid with a hint of metal from the blood, afraid it was stuck in your hair.

Luckily your shift was over 10 minutes ago, you gathered your things and looked around for Jack, being greeted with Heather and Frank.

“Dana, have you seen Jack? Good morning to you all” you stretched, looking around to see no sight of Jack or Robby.

“Up on the roof with Robby”.

“Jesus, the midlife crisis twins” Frank joked under his breath, only to be met with the dirty looks of you and Heather.

“When he comes down tell him I’m in the truck” you sighed, tapping on the desk before letting your hair down from the clip that has held up your hair through blood and way too many body fluids.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[bumblebecc]

the one where trinity santos knows that frank is using again, except he isn’t

Trinity knows something is up with Frank Langdon. She just does.

It starts when she walks in on a Monday with a truly horrific looking board. A massive carpile up handled by the nightshift has set them all back and tied up Ortho for the day. Good luck, all broken bones and potential amputations walking into the waiting room. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Dana look frazzled (apart from PittFest, but she tries not to think about that day too much. She puts it all in the Do Not Touch box that lives in the back of her brain). Robby is extra prickly because Gloria keeps popping up and jumpscaring everyone. Perlah’s daughter is turning ten next week and she’s making it a bigger deal than it needs to be (in Trinity’s opinion), so the normally restrained camp of Perlah and Princess is also stressed.

And Frank comes in basically skipping past the waiting room and freaking everyone out.

“Why all the glum faces?” Trinity hears him ask Collins.

“Have you even looked at the board today? It’s like Hell opened up overnight.”

“Never took you for a theater kid.” Trinity spares a look and sees Langdon languidly leaning on the nurse’s station. “So much drama. Nah, we’ll get this straightened up. Hey, look, you take South 15, he’s been here awhile. I’ll handle the rash and fever in North 5. We’ll get these beds opened up in no time.”

“Could’ve sworn you would’ve gone for the potential hernia.”

“Hernia, shmernia. McKay can have that one. C’mon, new attending. We have a waiting room to empty.”

Trinity sits up.

“You’re… optimistic today,” says Collins slowly.

“Ah, you know what they say.” Langdon smirks, snagging a pair of gloves as he leaves. “A cynic has to be an optimist at least some of the time.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Heather calls after him.

And Trinity would just chock that little interaction up to Langdon just being his normal brand of obnoxious if she hadn’t overheard Princess and Perlah in the breakroom.

“He smiled at me and told me to have a good day,” says Princess, audibly bewildered. “Has he ever done that to you?”

“No, but he asked me to tell Jamillah Roslyn happy birthday for her party,” says Perlah, bewildered. “I didn’t even know he knew her name.”

“Something’s up with him,” says Princess suspiciously and Trinity agrees. Parks it in her mind as she and the others steadfastly work through the onslaught of patients. Post-hysterectomy infection (and potential malpractice suit, the fucker didn’t prescribe the poor woman any antibiotics). A simple MI sent up to surgery in record time. A pulmonary contusion in an eight year old from a gnarly bumper car collision.

And then—

“Are you whistling?” Garcia asks, almost in disbelief.

“What, the patient is anesthetized,” says Langdon casually as he makes room for the ultrasound tech. “Don’t be knocking my bedside manner when the bedside isn’t awake.”

“Look,” says Garcia. “The Cure is low, even for you. At least do Bowie or Santana.”

“You would hate The Cure,” says Langdon and then whistles the first few lines of Smooth freakishly well.

“That’s more like it,” says Garcia.

“You treat me like a radio,” sighs Langdon. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Yes, especially because I am not needed here,” says Garcia. “Look at the head CT. Brain tumor. More than most likely caused the seizure. Far above my paygrade. He needs oncology and a specialized treatment plan, not emergency surgery.”

“Copy,” says Frank. “I’ll call up Blestner and get a consult.”

Garcia’s eyebrow slowly rises. “You’ll just ‘call up’ Blestner?”

“For a potentially glioneuronal mass that size?” Frank clicks his tongue. “Hell yeah I’m calling Blestner.”

“Blestner hates your guts,” interrupts Trinity. She’s too bewildered to stay quiet. “He called you a junkie and told you to put him on the phone with a real doctor last time.”

“And I went through the official channels and put in an HR complaint and everything’s been peachy since,” says Langdon, unbothered. “He loves me now.”

“Huh.” Garcia looks him over slowly. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Indubitably.” And Langdon strides out of the room, already on his pager.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Trinity looks up, surprised.

Yolanda is smiling, but there’s a tension around her mouth that Trinity recognizes from that time when she forgot to wash the pan after making eggs. The this thing is out of my control smile. “He is in a really good mood,” she says. “Which might be nothing. But it also might be something. I haven’t heard him whistle since he passed the Step 3. And that was 2021, so.”

“You don’t think—?”

“No, babe, I don’t think. I just worry.” Yolanda glances behind her, makes sure no nosy RN is looking, and presses a quick kiss to Trinity’s cheek. That was also something Trinity had to get used to. Yo’s touchyness. It’s a plus, she knows now, but there was a time she would’ve dodged away, wary. Now, she leans in.

“My worrier,” says Trinity, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yolanda Garcia backs out of the room, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And Trinity keeps a half-eye on Langdon, yeah. And maybe he’s a little too nice to Lupe, calling her a “badass” and then dapping up some random EMT after a successful code. But she’s not really concerned because she’s sure he’ll be back to his usual “I’m surrounded by idiots” self tomorrow.

Except he isn’t.

“He brought donuts,” says Mateo in the breakroom, looking like he’s seen a ghost. “And not Dunkin Donuts. Leonarda’s. The fancy shit. For Nurse Appreciation Week.”

“That’s not so weird!” Kim is sheepishly playing with her hair. “Dr. King gave me a personalized card.”

“Please call her Mel, Kim, no one calls her Dr. King and it’s lowkey a little weird that you do.” Mateo opens up one of the boxes (with gilded swirly writing on top, Trinity knows it’s bougie) and a heavenly smell envelopes them.

Donahue shakes his head. “This… this is some spooky shit.”

“Do you think this is like some NA thing?” Jesse asks. “Like, being nice to people?”

Trinity doesn’t speak, because being allowed in the nurse’s lounge is a privilege that gets easily revoked, but she thinks no fucking way to herself.

But then she kinda forgets about it because she’s pulled for Chairs. Bleh.

Flu case. Ten year old with influenza. Fifty year old with the flu. Eighteen year old with a headache and fever—influenza A. Seventy year old with—you guessed it—the flu.

“Fuck, I hate triage,” she tells the skittish med student who started last week. The name will come to her. Jessica. Jennifer. Something with a J? She’s red-haired, pretty in an effortless kind of way, and petrified of everything that moves and makes Trinity miss Whitaker, who matched into emergency medicine at Allegheny. “Don’t you want some action?”

“Huh?!” Jessica Jennifer Jayla blushes so hard, Trinity looks at her with concern. “No!! No I don’t!”

“Easy, easy,” says Trinity, undeterred. “So you like the boring ones?”

“Oh! You meant—“ the blush recedes and Jennifer Jessica Jaime clears her throat. “The cases. Yeah, uh, they’re alright. I don’t really like traumas that much.”

Trinity eyes her, slightly concerned. “Calm down, Mother Mary. I wasn’t asking you about your sex life.”

Jaime Joanna Jessica frowns. “My name is Julie.”

“Julieee,” says Trinity. “Cool. Just a joke.” And then she follows Julie’s eyesight, which is locked across the room to—Langdon, chatting with an EMT. “No way. He’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

“No!!” Julie is fumbling with her gloves. “He’s 33! And I’m 25!”

“You asked him his age?” Trinity says, absolutely delighted.

“He’s divorced!” says Julie. “It’s not a crime!”

“But it is definitely frowned upon. A resident and a med student, are you crazy?”

“You’re an R-2 with a new attending!” says Julie, suddenly fierce.

“Different departments, plus no one gives a shit.” Trinity could laugh. She could care less how Mother Mary knows about her and Garcia—probably a mouthy respiratory therapist or something. “Good luck with that HR violation, Julie. You should get some better taste.”

“What? He’s so nice. And hot. The day me and Yamaguchi started, he told us we’re on our way to being great doctors.” Yep, those are definitely stars in the med student’s eyes.

Langdon. Being overly nice to med students. An alarm goes off in Trinity’s brain. And she automatically says, “Yeah, he lies a lot,” and beelines straight to Robby, who is intensely charting and pretending not to notice a frequent flyer asking for a blanket (he has about five already). “Okay, is something up with Langdon?”

Robby slides his glasses down at her with intense scrutiny. “Let’s rephrase the question to something more specific, Dr. Santos.”

“He’s whistling in the ER,” says Trinity. “He’s happily doing all the shitty boring cases. He told Perlah to tell her kid happy birthday. He bought the nurses donuts for Nurse Appreciation Week. He’s being nice to med students. Med students. That’s weird.”

Robby sighs, slips off his glasses. “Maybe he’s just having a good day.”

“Try a good week.” And Trinity lowers her voice. “Look. Is it possible he’s relapsed?”

Her chief attending leans back in the chair. Clicks around on the computer for a minute. “Dr. Langdon’s drug screening results are private healthcare information that I cannot release to you, Dr. Santos. However, I can guarantee that as of this morning, Langdon is enthusiastically cleared to work in the ED.” He shoots her a look. “So whatever’s bothering you has nothing to do with his recovery. Okay? Conversation done.”

And Trinity stands there, frowning, because things aren’t clicking.

And they don’t until she bumps into Mel the next day.

“Heyyy, MelMel,” Trinity says, fresh off a Cliff bar break. “What the heck are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

Mel beams, cute as ever with her hair up in two twin buns. It must be boiling outside, because she’s in little white shorts and her cheeks are pink from the sun. “Yeah, it is! But Becca and I stayed up late last night baking.” And Trinity does notice the brownie tray. “We might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ah. Baking.”

“Yes, Becca’s very into sourdough lately,” says Mel seriously. Trinity can’t help but have a soft spot for her. A tiny soft spot. “She’s been watching these TikTok videos. My kitchen is now her experiment station.”

“Ah. Your sister. Nice.” Trinity’s about to politely extricate herself from the conversation in favor of a patient when Langdon suddenly appears. And by suddenly, Trinity means he was on the other side of the room, and then he basically teleported to Mel’s side.

“Mel, what are you doing here?” He puts his hand on her shoulder like she’ll disappear otherwise. “Are you—oh! Nice shirt.”

It’s a normal shirt, light pink with a print of Hello Kitty waving. Mel smiles brightly. “Hi!! Yeah it’s—“

“Becca’s favorite,” Langdon finishes and they both laugh, even though it isn’t really funny, like it’s an inside joke. And then Langdon glances down at the tray and says, “Ah, the brownies, shit, sorry, I forgot you were going to bring those in.”

“Well, I felt bad, you got the nurses those fancy donuts and I only gave out cards.” Mel is—pouting? Not really, not in the exaggerated way Yolanda does to make Trinity give her attention, but actually genuinely. Mel’s mouth is a little downturned, her eyebrows are scrunched with mild displeasure.

“Stop, they’d take a card from you over anything from me any day,” scoffs Frank. “Donnie acted like I was trying to poison him. And I’m half fucking convinced Ramón thinks you’re an actual angel from heaven.”

“No, he doesn’t, we have a very good professional rapport,” says Mel.

“Bullshit, he likes you.” And then Frank… softens? Like all the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax and he leans down, looking at her with his weirdly intense eyes and Trinity feels like she walked in on something. And the hand, still on Mel’s shoulder, is sliding down, his long fingers curling softly around her wrist. “Maybe I can’t blame him, though.”

“Oh my god,” says Trinity and they both jump, like they forgot she was even there. “You’re getting laid. That’s why you’ve been so fucking weird all week. You’re boinking Mel.”

“Santos.”

“That’s not a very appropriate thing to say in the workplace,” says Mel, frowning. But she doesn’t deny it. Because they TOTALLY ARE.

“It all makes sense,” says Trinity in disbelief.

Like she knew they were close. Langdon gets her a hot tea from a cafe every morning (Robby always asks where his is and Langdon snarks, “The break room, hands off.”) And the way they follow each other around and bump into each other without comment. That one time Langdon handed her a hair tie when hers snapped during a procedure and her too-bright smile.

“The stupid whistling. The weirdly good mood. You bought donuts. Oh my god. Mel, you and him? For real?”

Langdon’s face is not a nice face. “Can you go one day with causing a potential HR crisis?”

“I know way hotter dudes I can hook you up with, Mel,” Trinity tells her, enjoying this way more than she should. “Like I’m not a man enjoyer, but there’s this guy from med school who all my hetero friends say is a god at eating puss—“

“Okay, enough of that,” says Langdon firmly, and his hand is on the small of Mel’s back, herding her away, and he’s scowling. But Trinity follows, she’s so delighted. Mel and Mr. Asshole? Together? That’s so gold, it’s like platinum level gossip. Princess and Perlah are going to die. “Don’t you have a patient to neglect or something?”

“Possessive much, Langdon?” Trinity waggles her eyebrows. “Or are you that shitty in bed that you’re feeling a little threatened?”

“Frank is very good at cunnilingus, Trinity,” says Mel over her shoulder and ugh, she calls him Frank? And Trinity regrets all the teasing, because she did not need to know that. Or picture that. “I’m very well satisfied, thank you.”

And Langdon is grinning, an evil smug horny grin that immediately takes the wind out of Trinity’s sails.

“I am so texting Whitaker about this.”

“Tell Dennis I said hi!” calls Mel as Langdon ushers her into the break room. Where they’ll probably make out or say lovey dovey words to each other. (Probably not. Mel is a classy lady after all).

“This hospital,” Trinity says and then rushes off to hunt down Garcia.

[kiyokowastaken]

A Piece Of Heaven.

James Sunderland x Female Reader.

Minors Don't Interact!!!

CW: fingering, overstimulating, p in v (no protection), hair pulling/tugging, blowjob, babying a middle aged, miserable man, dirty talk, OOC James, porn with plot, age gap (reader is in her early twenties while James is in his mid-thirties), tit sucking, creampie, dom!James, oral (male and female receiving and giving, face f*cking, James has a breeding kink.

Summary: After partnering up with James and Maria, you could see the dynamic between them. A beautiful blonde vixen flirting with a miserable and pathetic man in search of his supposedly dead wife. Feeling a bit jealous of the interaction between them, you decided to climb the roof of the hotel to watch whatever of the sky that you can but you’re interrupted by someone.

This isn’t revised so excuse any misspelling or grammar mistakes! I was also inspired by another amazing James Sunderland x Reader writer named sundrlands so check them out!!

Enjoy loves ^^!

The fucking fog.

How come in some areas it’s dense as fuck but now when you need the fog to be dense, it’s not. You saw the blonde haired woman named, Maria latching onto James’s arms as if she couldn’t hold her own. You knew that the male was far too awkward to say anything about it, so he merely just let it be. You looked around the area, it seemed not as rundown and ruined as the other places that you guys have encountered, you caught a glimpse of a flower shop and your interest was piqued to say the least.

You jogged over to the small shop as James was looking down at the map trying to figure out where the hotel was as Maria was merely talking his ear off. You were pleasantly surprised when the flowers looked to be alive, they were still blooming in such a terrible condition. Your fingertips reached out and graced the soft petals of a Lily, the beautiful flower slightly moved by your touch before it got covered by a shadow.

You turned around to see James, which caused you to take a few steps back. His cologne was faint yet lingered around him, he smelled like clean laundry with a hint of a musky yet woody scent, the kinda smell that when you hugged someone you would try and take another whiff, “Uh..I figured out the way to the hotel, we would get there in a couple of more minutes..” The blonde haired man would mumble.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as you looked back at the blossomed flower, “You speak as if I’m going to snap back at you.” James merely flushed a bit at your comment as it took him a moment to think about his next choice of words. He always seemed to do that, instead of other people who just spoke their minds without considering what others might say.

James was the opposite, it’s like he handcrafted his response for you, yet he still fell short, “I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked peaceful over here in your own world.” He hummed out as he looked down at the flowers before he reached out and tried to stroke the flower but it seemed that he lacked a certain softness to his touch.

The very Lily that you once caressed so tenderly and gently, lost a petal once James touched it. James seemed a little disheartened as the sad look on his face that he always had seemed a bit more sadder, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched it, it seems like whenever I touch things they always end u-..” You stopped James’s sad monologue as with a bit of confidence, you grabbed his hand with your own and gently moved over to a flower, a budding bushel of Heathers.

You guide his hand and with a gentle brush of both hands, the bushel waves gently before you pulled your hand away with a small smile as you turned to look at the taller male, “Don’t always be pessimistic James, you have a gentleness to you. You just need to be patient, now come on, Maria is waiting for you.” You said with a slight bitter tone that James seemed to catch before his soft yet gruff voice said, “You mean, us, she’s waiting for us.” To which, you merely nodded before walking back with James.

A few minutes turned to a hour and the sweet moment between you and James had seemed to dissipate into thin air. Maria was once again walking side by side with James, their hands occasionally brushed against each other more than they should. At one point, Maria mentioned how cold she was which caused James to pause before he tugged off his military jacket and held it out for her which she graciously took and slipped on. You, in the meanwhile just scoffed, how unbelievable. James was merely being a gentleman and gave the women his jacket, so she wouldn’t freeze to death and here you were acting like it was the worst betrayal of your life. I mean, it stung a bit, you asked James to borrow his jacket during a moment of rest since the room you guys were in was cold to which he merely just got up and went through the hassle of finding a semi-clean blanket and handing it to you.

You merely just looked around at whatever you could in the surrounding scenery as the fog began to slowly disappear. You looked back to see the hotel, it was small but it was near an embankment of water which gave it a nice appeal. You guys got closer and before you guys knew it, you guys separated off into your own rooms. James got the room in the middle while you and Maria got the right and left rooms next to his.

Once, James got his jacket back from Maria, you all settled into your own rooms for the night. It was a delightful surprise when the water still ran through the pipes of this hotel, it was clean water as well. You stripped out of your clothes and turned the warm water on as once your body stepped into the warmth, it melted away any stress that you had away. You guys had battled all sorts of weird ass monsters coming to this hotel, so this was refreshing to say the least. You cleaned off the grim, sweat, and the blood off your body before getting out and changing back into your clothes.

They were a bit dirty but nothing too bad, you then debated into taking a nap or just roaming around the hotel. You guys could probably stock up on whatever you needed to finish this fucked up adventure so without a second thought, you grasped the handle of the door opened it before stepping outside into the fresh night breeze. Silent Hill looked less scary when it was night, the fog almost seemed lifted and the surroundings were now noticeable.

You turned towards James’s door to see him talking with Maria as they both leaned against the iron railing. You squinted a bit and you found yourself a bit shocked to see a small smile on his face, you had more than enough seeing the two of them together so you turned on your heel and walked to the opposite side. You looked through the few rooms that were accessible and grabbed some bandages and couple of food supplies before you found a latter up to the roof of the hotel.

You shrugged before you grabbed ahold of the latter and started to climb your way up to the room. Once on top of the roof, you let out a deep sigh as the air felt fresher up here. The cold wind stung your warm skin and blew through your slightly damp hair before you found yourself sitting on top of the roof. It was comfortable, the concrete of the roof was smooth enough to not be uncomfortable as you laid back and looked up at the sky and for once in Silent Hill, you felt at peace.

You closed your eyes for a moment as the wind blew small strands of your hair away from your face, you slowly reopened your eyes and the moon was bathing everything in its moonlight, including yourself. You looked serene, downright ethereal to James as he finally found you, he was getting worried once he searched your room and every other room that you already ransacked and didn’t find you.

He took a deep breath air before releasing it as he could now be calm. A few minutes ago, he was talking to Maria, the woman was good company. She was cocky, confident, and a downright temptress but he had enough of those types of women in his younger years. The attention was nice but you caught his eye, he really shouldn’t even be considering anyone when he’s looking for his wife, yet you graced him with patience, a loving and gentle touch, and the way your eyes always seem to shine a bit more brighter whenever he talked to you made him feel..good. Mary, they had their arguments and yet, they loved each other but somewhere along the way the glimmer in her eyes and the way she looked at James, it no longer felt like home. Yet, here he was searching for her after three years of her supposed death.

James saw you staring up at the sky and found himself also in awe at how beautiful the stars shined. He then cleared his throat as he saw you perk up as if he had frightened you, “Sorry..I didn’t mean to scare you, I just got worried when I didn’t find you in your room.” He said softly, as he walked a bit more closer before he found himself sitting down a bit away from you as he didn’t want to invade your space. “Are you okay..? I mean, obviously we aren’t since we are stuck in this hellhole but you seem to become a bit more reserved.” James said as his eyes glanced at you before looking elsewhere.

A silence followed afterwards and it seemed to eat at James, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

You let out a huff as you turned your body to fully look at James, “Are you something with Maria?” You rebutted with a question of your own. James was stunned at the question as he felt a red flush settle at the tips of his ears as he shook his head, “Me and Maria..we are just uh..good acquaintances. That’s all..” He stumbled out as your eyes hyper focused at his small movements and gestures.

“Then..why don’t you act the same way with me? You found Maria and me at the same place, we have been traveling together for a while now and yet, it seems like..you dislike me.” You muttered out before peeling your eyes away from James. James didn’t mean to make you feel that type of way, he didn’t mean to make you feel isolated from your small little group. This place was already isolating as it is.

“I-..I’m sorry, it’s just that..well I find myself feeling some kind of way whenever I’m near you and I don’t want that to affect us, it’s difficult to explain.” You could see James in the corner of your vision, he was rubbing the back of his neck. A bubble of confidence or maybe the way the moonlight reflected on James’s eyes made him seem all the more pathetic. You patted your lap as you looked at him for a split moment, “We have all the time in the world right now, explain this feeling to me, please.”

James looked at your lap that you patted before looking up at you, he felt like if he gave in to you, he would betray Mary. He did all of this for her. He reprimanded himself for feeling a warm feeling whenever you guys even locked eyes for a split moment. Yet, a part of him craved comfort, he wished to be adored again. He wished soft hands cradled his worn and tired face and pressed soft kisses against it. Mary once did that before the damned illness took her.

He moved closer to you and placed his head on your plush thighs and closed his eyes.

Warmth.

That’s what you gave off, the scent of a sweet yet citrus scent clung onto you and your clothes. He tensed up when he felt your hands on him. One on his chest and the other one scratched his scalp and he battled to hold back a soft groan. Sinful. This was utterly sinful. He was still married to Mary, he loved his wife, yet why did he turn around and push his face onto your stomach as one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled him close.

“J-..James..!” You stuttered out as the touch to you was foreign. You had have past lovers and loved every single one but none of them made you feel the way James did. The older man, he made a part of you want to baby him..protect him and care for him. He could provide for himself yet to your mind that didn’t matter.

“You make me feel warm, you make me forget about Mary. It feels so wrong. I’m here for her..and yet, your arms have felt more like home than hers ever did..and I feel guilty for such thought.”

Those words that James muttered out against your stomach made your face burn unlike any other. You didn’t know how to respond as you felt him take a deep inhale and then exhale, he felt more relaxed..guess that was eating at him for a while now. Your hand merely slid from his chest towards his back and rubbed his back as she sighed.

“You don’t have to feel guilty James..I also feel the same, I just didn’t know that you felt like I did. You always seemed reserved towards me, so I just thought I made you uncomfortable for something like that.” You felt James shift before you removed your hands from him as he sat up. He was fairly close now. You could smell him just like you did in the flower shop.

“..As I stated before, I’m not uncomfortable with you. I will feel terrible if you got mixed up with someone like me, (Y/N). You’re kind, sweet, warm, patient, and just everything that I’m not. I still have this whole Mary thing to resolve. We still need to get out of here and..I’m a bit older than you. You’re barely enjoying yourself, I’m already past my prime.” James said with a soft chuckle leaving his lips. God, that chuckle..it felt like a drug. You wanted more of that.

“You should stop putting yourself down, you’re terrible at even finding a good thing about yourself, James. You have this softness in you, I can see it. It’s just hidden by troubles, nothing that a little patience and talking can’t undo and about the whole age thing. Do you really think I care? We have gone against unexplained beings and you think an age gap is what’s gonna scare me off?” You rebutted with an eye roll as James raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like your men older?”

The silence that followed was all consuming, you cleared your throat as you puffed up your chest a bit as you nodded, “Well, yes but not senile old.” This seemed to make James laugh as he turned his face away from you as his body shook with his laughter.

“So, do I fit into your criteria?” James asked as his normally reserved and cold demeanor changed slightly. It had a hint of flirtatiousness and genuine curiosity. “I mean, yeah, you do.” You said as you couldn’t help but notice him moving closer.

A sudden change in the air happened, it was noticeable. He hummed as he looked at your eyes and then down to your lips, he wanted to kiss them so badly. It was almost downright painful how much he craved to brush his lips against yours. You could feel his eyes, you almost felt naked in his stare. It felt like he was undressing you.

“Jam-..”

“Can I kiss you?”

Did you fall asleep on the roof of the hotel and now your mind was conjuring up some wet dream about the male you have been lusting over? No, this felt real. He felt real. The warmth he radiated was real. You could only nod before he leaned in close and looked into your eyes with his beautiful, enchanting blue-grey eyes, “I need you to say yes or no.”

You felt your heart beating quickly, he was close, his slow exhale of breath. You could feel it against your lips before you opened your mouth, “Yes..please.”James let out a soft and quick breathy laugh before he placed one of his hands on your neck and pulled you into the kiss. His other hand was placed on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You couldn’t hide the slip of a soft whine tumble out of your lips.

Heavenly. That’s what James felt right now. If Silent Hill was his own personal hell then you must be his personal heaven. The hand that held your neck slowly slipped upwards towards your jaw as he held it. His tongue flicked against your bottom lip as to ask for entrance.

James acted different. This wasn’t the same man that seemed to dislike small talk or any time of human connection if it didn’t regard Mary. You might’ve unleashed a animal, a hidden side of him that you only caught glimpses at whenever he swung that metal pipe and aimed at those twisted creatures before pulling the trigger without hesitation. You opened your mouth, a tad bit but that was enough for James to slip his wet tongue into your mouth. Your arms that were once by your side slipped upwards to grasp at his faded, forest green military jacket as a anchor. Your own tongue shyly met his in a heated and sultry dance. The kiss that was supposed to be somewhat sweet became needy and sloppy.

He tilted his head to the side as his hand that was on your waist slipped down and underneath your shirt as his calloused and rough hands grasped your body as if to reassure himself that you weren’t going to slip away. That you weren’t a figment of his imagination. You were real.

The two pulled away from the kiss as a line of saliva was the only evidence of the hot and heavy kiss. James’s hand that was on your jaw slid upwards and wiped your bottom lip as the string of saliva was no longer there. The air was charged with sexual tension, it was no longer awkwardness and stepping on eggshells. It was filled with lust, need, and want.

“I need you..I want you but we don’t have to continue if you don’t want too.” James said between small soft pants as he tried to regain his steady breathing. Your eyes were hazy, in your mind, you only wanted him. You craved him. You have held back for a while and now the man that you craved, he craved you back.

“I need you as well, James Sunderland.”

Those words sealed your fate. Now, here you were, your shirt and light jacket thrown on the floor of James’s hotel room. Soft moans and pants filled the room as James left dark purplish red marks on your neck and collarbone. How you were going to explain these marks to Maria tomorrow, well, that was a problem for tomorrow. James was set on marking your skin up, claim it as his. To claim you and mark you as his woman.

His tongue licked and traced from your collarbone down the valley of your breasts. He placed a couple of sloppy kisses there as his mouth traveled to your right breast as he attached his lips around your harden bud. His tongue swirled around it as he started to suckle on your breast. His hand ran up your body and groped your left breast, his thumb and middle finger pinched and tugged on your nipple as one of your hands grasped the bedsheets and the other hand tried to muffle your moans and gasps.

Your body was soft, warm, and inviting to James. He felt like he was tainting you with all of his sinfulness, he didn’t want to damn you but at the same time. He grasped onto you as if you were his salvation and maybe, you were. His angel, his pretty girl..he wanted to leave you a beautiful mess. His teeth softly teased your nipple that was on his mouth before he pulled away with a lewd ‘pop’. Your expression was his favorite thing, yet he disliked you hiding your face.

“Don’t hide your face sweetheart, I want to see you for who you are, please.” He said as he locked eyes with yours as his mouth wrapped around your left nipple as his right hand slid up your body to tug and pinch your spit ridden nipple. He gave the same treatment to your left nipple until he felt satisfied with himself. After that, he left a couple more love marks on your chest just to make sure as pulled away from your shivering body.

“May I?” He said as he eyed your pants as you nodded as your hands slid down to unbutton and unzip your pants so that he didn’t need to struggle as much. His hands then grabbed the hem on your pants and panties before he tugged them down in one fluid motions. The need to cover your intimate area was strong as your hand slipped between your thighs to cover your slicked cunt. James found that cute, he dropped your pants and panties on the ground before his attention returned to you.

He grasped your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed as he made you sit up as he got on his knees. He wanted to taste you, badly. He looked up at you for a sign of hesitation before you nodded once again in consent as his hands prided your thighs open. He felt himself salivate when he saw your cunt dripping for him, “All for me, pretty girl~?” He cooed as he looked up once more to see your flustered face. He chuckled as he began with pressing soft kisses on your inner thighs as he teased you with small nips to your thighs. He suckled a few marks on your inner thighs before he was face to face with your cunt.

He closed his eyes as his tongue slipped out and a wet stripe licked your slit. You instant let out a whine as your thighs tensed up, he kept your thighs apart using his hands which were wrapped around them. He prodded his wet muscle into your cunt as his nuzzled his face into your wet heat. His nose occasionally bumped against your clit as his tongue lapped at your juices as he eagerly tasted you like if you were an expensive wine. His tongue prodded your clenching entrance before he nuzzled his face more into your cunt as his tongue slipped into your clenching and unclenching entrance.

His slurping became downright pornographic as your hands left the crumpled up bedsheets and slipped into his dirty blonde locks. Your head fell back as your lips were in a ‘o’ shape as moans and whines of pleasure left them. You began to grind your cunt against his mouth as the way he slurped you like he was a hungered man was all too addictive. The way his nose bumped against your clit would send shivers down your spine as goosebumps riddled your body, “J-..James~!” You moaned his name loudly.

This made James prideful, he pulled away from your slicked cunt as leaned his head against your thighs as you guys once again locked eyes as he panted heavily. He looked downright fucking sinful, his hair a tousled mess in your hands, his face flushed red, his eyes glazed over with pure lust and admiration, and his lips along with his chin were smeared with a combination of his spit and your juices. “Use me to get off, c’mon baby girl, I’m only here for you.” He panted out.

Those words made your eyes roll to the back of your head as his lips wrapped around your clit. Fucking hell. He was so fucking good, you felt the coil in your stomach come to life. One of his hands left your thighs as they slipped down to your cunt, his index and pointer finger slipped into your cunt without much resistance. He angled them upwards and curled them in a ‘come here’ motion, you soon began to grind your cunt on his face like if he was merely a tool for your pleasure.

The coil began to slowly unravel as he continued to suckle on your clit as his fingers quickened in pace as he felt you clenching non-stop on his fingers. You pushed his face against your cunt with your hands as his unused hand gripped your thighs in a bruising hold before he pulled away as he heard a disappointed and pitiful whine leave your pretty lips. He panted heavily as his chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to regain all the air he needed. He fell back on his ass as his other hand that was on your thigh wiped his face clean from your wetness. “Not yet, pretty girl, you aren’t going to cum that easily.”

He said as before he stood up, he then began to strip. Once he was naked, he had scratch marks and cuts on his body. They had long scarred which meant he probably got them long ago, your eyes mapped out his entire body before your eyes found his cock. He was trimmed, neat which surprised you. He was a good six and a half inches, he was more length than girth. He had a pretty pink tip, that was currently leaking pre-cum as it seemed that eating you out worked him up.

You looked up at him as he walked towards you, you licked your lips as he loomed over you. He grabbed your chin as his thumb ran across your lip, “Will you be a good little girl and suck me off, ‘hm?” He asked as you merely dumbly nodded, “Then, what’re you waiting for?” He let go on your chin before as he grabbed your hair into a ponytail as your mouth opened to let him slide into your mouth.

Your mouth wrapped around his tip as your tongue licked his slit that was leaking pre-cum. You swirled your tongue around his head before you slowly took more into your mouth, you had a bit of a gagging reflex so little by little did you take his cock into your mouth. You felt the tip of his cock press against the back your throat which caused you to gag, your hands held onto his muscular thighs as your nails dug onto them. He was fully in your mouth, he could see that you were tense so, he gave you a bit of advice, “Relax..breathe through your nose. You will cause yourself to gag more if you try to breathe through your mouth.” He said as he felt you take his advice.

He then started to bob your head up and down his cock as he felt drool mixed with pre-cum coat his cock. He also heard a bit of it fall onto the floor beneath the both of you, he let soft groans out as his head lolled back in pleasure as the hold that he had on your hair tighten, “That’s it darling, you’re taking my cock so well…” He mumbled out as he slowly began to buck his hips into your mouth. As when he looked down at you, he saw your pretty mouth around his cock as those tear filled eyes looked at him.

“Fuck..if you look at me like that, I might just cum early, doll face.” He muttered through gritted teeth as he felt you hollow your cheeks to create more suction. He felt you become more comfortable as he placed his other hand on your head as he began to lightly thrust into your mouth. The lewd noises and the occasional gagging sound around his cock made him shiver. He felt the knot in his stomach slowly appear.

He quickened his pace a bit more as he almost lost himself when he felt you swallow around his cock. The way your throat tighten around his cock, it was fucking heaven sent. You were a fucking miracle. He began to just fully thrust into your mouth as you slacked your jaw, letting him fully fuck your mouth as groans and..a whimper left his mouth. Oh, this was heavenly, he made such a pretty noise that made you bob your head with his thrusting as you felt his cock throbbing into your mouth more frequently.

It was you that pulled away from his grasp as you coughed, your lips were swollen from the kissing and the sucking you were just doing. He let out a frustrated groan leave his lips as he felt his cock throbbing as his orgasm was so close. You inhaled and exhaled deeply as your chest heaved, “If I couldn’t get my..orgasm, then you can’t either..” You panted out as James merely glared at you before he nodded, it was only fair. He edged you close to your orgasm and you did the same.

He pushed you down on the bed as he towered over you as you guys scooted upwards onto the bed a bit more. James placed a pillow underneath you and moved you close to him, you wrapped your legs around his hips as he looked at you, “Uh..I don’t have a condom, are you sure?” James asked as his hands were on your hips as his thumbs wrapped smoothing circles on your skin. You bit your lip as you thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, it’s okay..I want to feel all of you.” You mumbled.

James nodded as he positioned himself before he slowly slipped inside you. You winced a bit at the penetration as it had a been awhile since you slept with someone. James gritted his teeth as he swore that he wasn’t about to cum right then and there. You were fucking tight, he huffed as the grip on your waist tighten as he slowly sank more of his length into your cunt. You, in the other hand, you felt filled. He thrusted fully into you as your toes curled as he let you get used to him and his size.

A few seconds passed before you rolled your hips and a soft moan left your lips, you looked at him and gave him a reassuring nod as he bottomed out before thrusting back into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck as your nails dug into his board shoulder, “F-..fuck, James..feels so fucking good~!” You whined out as James settled for a slow yet deep pace.

Skin on skin slapping could be heard throughput the room, the scent of sex lingered and consumed the air in the room as the bed squeezed with every deep thrust that James gave you. Your moans mingled with his groans as his hands ran up your body and groped your breasts as bounced every time that he thrusted into your squelching cunt. Lips messily found each other as both of you locked lips in a sloppy and lustful kiss. Passion and..love was found between the two of you. You guys fucked each other like if you were in your own honeymoon.

You guys complete forgot about the outside world and the cruel reality. You guys were completely focused on each other, saliva slicked lips found bare and naked skin to mark as James pace became more quick. Your nails ran down his back creating red irritated marks as he groaned, one of his hands slipped away from your breasts and down to your clit. He rubbed quick and tight circles as he felt you clench around him like a vice, trying to milk him for everything that he had, “f-..fucking hell, c’mon doll face, take my cock. After we are..out of here, I will make you my pretty wife and fuck a baby into you, yeah~?” James said rolled his hips into your cunt.

You nodded as you were feeling so fucking good, he was fucking you so good. “y..yeah, I wanna be your pretty wife..fuck a baby into me right now, please baby~!” You whined against his ear as he nodded. Both of you too drunk out of each other’s presences as the coil in your stomach grew too tight as he quicken the pace into a more quick and deep pace as his kissed your g-spot so fucking precisely and him rubbing your bundle of nerves didn’t help as you came around his cock without warning. You clenched around him tightly as he felt your walls spasm around his cock.

“Good girl..coming on cock so prettily, gonna make you a mommy, mhm, you want that baby girl, ‘hm~?” James said as he wrapped his unused arm around your waist and pulled you close to cold sweat covered body. You nodded dumbly as you felt overstimulated, the way he kept fucking you like a mere ragdoll, chasing his own orgasm made you clench around him. You bit down on his shoulder he as he continued to thrust into you as he felt his cock twitching more frequently, “Close..I’m gonna breed you, my sweet girl. Make you mine fully, come on, cum with me. Let’s cum together….” He muttered as his breathing was ragged.

His chest heaved quickly as his thumb started to swipe against your clit as his thrusts became animalistic in pace as he pounded into you. He groaned loudly into your shoulder as came deep into you. Filling your womb to the brim with his seed as you cried out as you came hard. He stopped swiping on your clit as both his arms held you close to him. He could feel himself twitching inside you. Fuck..you both were tired. He slowly pulled out of you with a wince as you merely groaned, you felt his sticky, warm seed drip out of your abused cunt.

James pulled you down onto the bed with him as he would clean this mess up later but right now, he wanted to relish in the afterglow. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as his hands rubbed your back as you nuzzled into his chest, “I will do everything I can to get us out of Silent Hill..I promise.” He muttered against your hair as you merely nodded as you were fair too tired to form any sentences. He soon felt your body go limp as you feel into a deep slumber.

This wasn’t about Mary anymore, he had to move on from her..he loved Mary but you loved him even if he was a broken man. You chose to embrace him and give yourself to him regardless of the darkness within himself.

You were his saint, his angel, his goddess..his little piece of heaven.

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 1

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

| Next

Series Summary: He’s not sure how he got here, perhaps it’s the aching loneliness or the overwhelming stress. You’re there because it seems like easy money and you have a pushy friend. All in all, it’s a good deal — he gets the companionship he’s after, no strings, and you get your utility bills paid on time. It’s pretty simple, easy, until your arrangement bleeds into something a bit more…complicated.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: Me?? Coming off hiatus?? Bit nervous about this one, but I’m jumping right in lol not sure how long this’ll be. Struggled between making it a reader fic or making an oc, but here we are.

Takes place prior to The Pitt.

Word Count: 1.7k (they’ll likely be longer going forward — just needed to lay the groundwork)

Warnings: BIG age gap omg (roughly 18 years even after I aged Robby down a bit, ~44), foul language, ptsd mentions, mentions of sex work, descriptions of hospitals/patients and brief mentions of violence at said hospital, mild dubious consent later on (like barely), eventual sexual content (afab!reader), angst, mutual pining, mentions of difference in power dynamic, medical errors bc I am a simple bitch, Dr Robby lacking some emotional intelligence/bottled up feelings. (Also you go to school for accounting and have two named friends). Slowburn. Mature themes.

This is not a promotion of such gaps or sugar daddies in general — it was just an idea I had and I couldn’t get it out of my head. Dr Robby seems like a good man, so I doubt would actually seek out such a relationship, but I have no doubt that that man is lonely and stressed as hell lol and this is my fic soooo

not beta read

Michael Robinavitch really had no idea how he had ended up in this situation, sat in that little cafe miles away from his normal stomping grounds. There was the obvious — getting on the subway and physically walking into the building, but the events that led him there nearly made him stand and walk back out.

It had started with a patient he’d had several weeks prior; a man not much older than himself, who had no family, and money to burn. The pretty woman who had come to visit was out of his league, painfully so, but she had sat diligently by his bedside and comforted him while the residents ran all the necessary tests. When she had slipped out of the room to make a phone call, the man had boasted.

His once complicated relationship with Heather Collins aside, Dr. Robby usually found such age gaps problematic and messy; a man looking to take advantage of such a gap or a woman looking to gain monetarily, or both. In his experience, it was rarely pure intentions — but what the man had gone on to explain after a confused look of one of the residents, was they weren’t in a relationship. They weren’t even having sex. He was simply paying for a beautiful woman’s companionship. No complex relationship, no true illegal activity or prostitution; just a busy man and an uncomplicated solace.

“Not really even a sugar daddy,” the patient had explained to Dr. Robby and Perlah, doped up on pain meds, “though it’s a fine comparison.”

What two grown adults got up to in their free time was their own business, the patient’s voice rang in Robby’s head, and if a man likes to spoil his lover or his friend, then that’s not illegal.

His heart thumped anxiously in his chest. This was only going to be a distraction, one completely unconnected to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center and that would be a breath of fresh air. Besides, if this turned out to be a complete disaster, he could just go on with his life. No changes.

—

You took the long way to the cafe, anxiety eating at your insides. Why had you allowed Erin to convince you this was a good idea? It had seemed harmless at the start — laughing and joking with Erin while you downloaded the app, talking to a handful of guys looking to spoil you. Eventually settling on one particularly reserved man (which you found mildly endearing) and securing a “first date”. It had been thrilling. It had even been fun.

At least while it was all over the phone. Now it was real and you had such an urge to turn around and run for the hills.

University was expensive, and between clocking in as many hours at your office job and still staying on track with your classes, you still found that rent was hard to keep up with. Erin had found you in a state of distress over a bowl of cheap ramen, explaining quite plainly what she did to supplement her income. It seemed like it would be too easy. Erin told you she didn’t start out with anything sexual, mostly just spending time with lonely older men and keeping them company.

It turns sexual only if you want it to, but the pay can be better, was the only relief that echoed in your head. The control lies with you, and never let that change.

It only calmed you slightly — that, and the fact that if this date went terribly, or in a way that you became uncomfortable, you could call it all off. He didn’t have your number, or any personal information, only your first name. No arrangements had been made or agreed to, and you found comfort in it. You thought to go in and just get it over with, return back to your apartment and tell Erin: “It’s just not for me.”

Maybe you could pick up DoorDashing instead.

Before opening the door to the cafe, you quickly sent your location to Erin and sent a text to Marsi about coming by to study in a few hours.

You were instantly hit with the calming aroma of coffee once inside, though you felt too jittery to order any. You settled on decaf tea before turning to the tables on the far side of the cafe. You wondered if he was on time, or if you would instead pick the table. Maybe he won’t show.

You caught sight of him almost immediately and it made your heart jump with a renewed sense of anxiety. He was here. He was here.

His eyes were on his own cup, though you knew they were brown from his picture. His hairline was only slightly receding, with his hair thinning slightly atop his head, plenty of laugh lines adorning his face and a thick beard that held several grey hairs. His features seemed scrunched up in thought, dark brows pulled together. You would be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, part of the reason you had accepted his request in the first place. If you were going to do this, it wasn’t going to be with someone you could barely look at. You could fake a lot of things, but genuine interest was not one of them.

“Michael?” You asked softly, hand on the back of the chair opposite him.

He looked up and gave a stiff smile, before confirming your name.

You smiled back at him, nodding. You pulled the seat back and sat with slow, calculated movements. Feeling his eyes on you made you swallow thickly, nerves running a rampage through your insides.

Erin had coached you, explained good questions to ask to suss out the bad ones, plus her own advice as to what she looked for and what was a red flag. All the advice seemed to flow right out of your head.

“How are you?” You asked, thumb tracing over the lid of your tea.

He huffed a small laugh, “I’m…fine.” A pause. “Look, I’ve never done this and I don’t—”

Relief pooled through your insides, though the nerves held strong. “Well, at least that makes two of us.”

His brown eyes met yours, seemingly surprised. He swallowed.

Maybe he was looking for direction.

Your eyes flickered to your tea and back again. “So, can I ask what made you sign up in the first place?”

He leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah,” his expression suddenly turned uncomfortable, his left cheek scrunched up almost in a wince. “I’m just looking for some…companionship.”

Perhaps he was embarrassed.

You nodded, taking a slow sip of your hot tea. “Anything specific?”

His eyes flickered up to meet your gaze and he blinked. His eyebrows rose, “Nothing sexual,” he said, voice dropping into a whisper at the last word. “Just someone to listen, call and talk to, I suppose.”

Your heart stopped racing. “No interest in a girlfriend?”

“I’m too busy for that.” Though it seemed more like a deflection.

You watched him curiously, raising a brow, “Alright. Something like a friend, then?”

He considered it. “Someone unconnected to my life.”

—

He said unconnected, but he meant not worried about my wellbeing. He dealt with too many people asking how he was, too concerned with the past. He needed someone that let him breathe, someone he could reach out to on his own terms with no strings attached. Someone who wouldn’t pry, someone who would not be offended by his long silences and his avoidance of talking about his emotions. Someone who doesn’t look at me like I’m damaged.

“More like a companion.” He explained, elaborating, “I need someone who can give me more space than a friend would, who’s okay if we don’t talk for days at a time. Something easy and uncomplicated.”

“Ah, I understand.”

At least he didn’t sound insane. He had a few friends, but he frequently felt like he was putting on an “I’m okay” mask whenever he was around them. He didn’t want to wear that mask with just one person.

“Yeah,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “What is it you’re looking for?”

You smiled, adding to the warmth of your face. You were beautiful, with pretty eyes and hair pulled out of your face. Far too out of his league, and young. Your profile showed an age that put you at nearly eighteen years apart. But, a corner of his mind whispered, it’ll be nice to have a beautiful woman’s attention.

“A bit of a distraction myself,” you told him, pursing your lips. “I’ve been quite stressed with school and it’ll be nice to not think about all that from time-to-time.” Then you smiled. “And maybe get some help paying my utility bill.”

He chuckled, soft and quiet, matching the grin on your face. “What do you go to school for?”

“Accounting,” you answered after a beat. “I’m working on my masters. What do you do for work?”

“I’m a doctor.” He said, careful to not elaborate much more. He was proud of his position, but he wanted whatever this was going to be to be completely separate from his professional life.

You seemed to understand, not asking any follow up questions that most people might have asked.

After only a handful more questions, you seemed satisfied. He asked about allowance, and your expectations, and found you would be a fine fit for each other. He felt a strange calmness overcome him as your conversation melded into small talk.

When you excused yourself to leave, you explained you wanted a day or two to sit on it. You expressed it wasn’t him, but the situation at hand that you wanted to think about. It brought comfort to him, knowing you were both a fish out of water in this situation.

Michael left the cafe feeling lighter than when he had entered, taking a long walk back home — silently deliberating. You were easy enough to talk to, and seemed to understand right away when to ask questions and when not to pry. You weren’t asking for anything outlandish in return, or even looking to make a living this way, only needing some help to finish school. He understood that, Pittsburgh wasn’t the most expensive city someone could live in, but add in school loans and he could see why you turned to supplemental income, as you had put it.

By nightfall, he’d received a message though the app hidden in a locked folder on his phone.

It was your number.

[ Next ]

[laser-tripwires]

i am occasionally reminded that parker knows how to shoot/handle a gun competently in redemption s1e3 and it's like, eliot, mr. "i dont like guns", why are you teaching people this.

(i am aware parker has a handgun in s1e1 but i dont think the skills are transferable to shotguns and its never really established if she can actually hit anything and also i doubt archie would train her in it bc its not a gentleman thief skill and by the same logic i doubt parker would teach herself bc its not particularly thief-y)

anon, this ask was like an early christmas present for me. i love when people are "wrong" in interesting ways, or if not wrong then... take a different view to what i do. so, parker and guns. i can't believe i've never made a post about this.

(heads up, i've stolen vast swathes of this post from conversations i've had with both @ghostlyarchaeologist and @aardvaark. words are all mine but ideas are mutually borne, so thank you both for being sounding boards at various points in the past. everyone go follow heather and adrian cos they're better at this than i am.)

right, let's talk about the pilot, becuase parker can absolutely hit things with that. both eliot and nate know immediately that hardison isn't a real danger, but the second nate hears the safety beng turned off there he whirls around and matches her threat; that's what you do when you know someone's not making pointless bluffs.

also, boiling this back to it's utter basics, what's the main skillset you use in order to handle a pistol competently? hand-eye coordination. which is something we know for sure parker has in spades; she's a master pickpocket and she learns fast.

we need to remember, also, that parker's initial sense of morality is completely fucked. or... not morality, exactly, but sense of what does and doesn't count as wrong, what does or doesn't count as harm? because there's that scene in homecoming, right, where everyone's protesting the concept of eliot having to do the thing they hired him for, and parker weighs in with "i never hurt anyone." except... like, the FIRST thing we know about parker is that she blew up a house as a child. it's canonical that the parents survived, but parker also spent six months in juvie and has broken out of prison multiple times and lived on the street for god knows how long and stork job shows she can fight pretty well pre-leverage, too. i'll come back to all this in a minute.

her being a crack shot with a gun is... not really incongrous with who she was pre-leverage. archie describes her when he found her as "a danger to herself and to others" and like YEAH no i buy that. i buy that completely.

next up, what about things that aren't pistols? well.

that's a fucking sniper rifle.

that's a fucking sniper rifle.

that is, and i cannot stress this enough, a fucking sniper rifle.

so yeah, i'd say that those skills are transferrable. she can take out an armed gunman and tie him up with duct tape, without causing a scuffle, and re-aim the gun. with enough consistency that nate knows for sure she'll manage it in less than three seconds. sure, we can chalk some of that up to parker at this point having had four seasons of eliot here's-how-you-take-out-thugs-with-guns fight training, but... i think at this point it's pretty fair to say that (regardless of the provinance of her skills) parker's kinda a good shot, actually.

okay, let's revisit that point about morality, because there are kinda a bunch of really important touchstones here.

so, john rogers once said that "parker is the second most dangerous person on the team, and eliot would argue first most dangerous." she's the team member with the least qualms about hurting people, always, and that's a detail that tends to get brushed over.

she would have killed tara here. she makes that extremely clear. i can't listen to that "Bye, now." and not get shivers.

talking of shivers.... "I want to do the right thing."

because, look, parker's not eliot. she's not thawing ice all the way through, and yet we're shown again and again that, despite that, "She has the nuclear winter inside her." there will always be a part of her who's first instinct is to jump, to hide, to run, to kill, to not care because caring hurts. but there's also a part of her that is softer than any of the team, that is a child who'll never grow up and yet grew up too fast. she grew up beaten, bruised, neglected and starved yet she's something wonderful - but she knows she's broken, she knows they all call her crazy, and it hurts. she wants to do the right thing, make the right choice, but she hates that it'll never be her first instinct. and the thing is? that's okay. she went through hell and back and turned out someone strange and weird and at times unkind, but... the team like how she turned out. hardison likes how she turned out. and that's worth the world - she just needs to remember it and believe it and use HER skills instead of trying to be something she's not. that is what parker and eliot's conversation in the ice cave is about, if you strip it back to it's bare essentials. parker doesn't want to be normal, she just wants to be normal enough for her friends.

has parker ever killed someone? i don't know. i don't know if she even thinks like that, in such clear terms - as i already talked about, parker's definition of 'hurt' is not the same as anyone else's.

so let's talk about broken wing job for a second, because absolutely everyone overlooks the reason why parker does the job in the first place - "You brought a gun? To my bar?"

because. yeah.

"Those guys are gonna rob this store, right? Which is fine. I don’t mind robbers who aren’t robbing me, or my friends, or kids or… But they brought a gun to the party, and that changes all the rules."

this is season five. she investigates the theives because she's bored - but she only decides to stop them because they brought a gun. that's the kind of very specific morality you only get after being the good guy for a very long time, and i do think that hanging around eliot probably helped affect that a bit.

actually, fuck it, look at what else she says about this whole thing in the broken wing job.

"No cops. No cops. That will actually increase the chances of people getting hurt. [...] Seeing a uniform in the middle of stealing something could cause you to panic, make bad decisions..."

"These guys aren’t that good, which is actually another reason why we should do this, ‘cause sooner or later, they’re gonna make a mistake. Someone’s gonna get hurt."

so. yeah. on the one hand, this is weapons safety 101, for someone in parker's position. "[The Leverage crew] don't use guns because - when guns come out, people die. This attitude very much comes out from traditional American crime literature, and also from talking to our professional criminal friends. Guns are messy, when they show up things escalate, you take a longer, harder fall when doing a crime with a gun - professional criminals are pathologically averse to carrying weapons." i'm quoting john rogers here, because i can, but you'll hear similar in any training manual, and it's especially relevant to parker's actions both here and elsewhere in the show.

on the other hand, mix up all those statements and it definitely implies parker has fucked up badly in the past. again, i don't know if she's ever killed someone. but.

well, for funsies, let's look at the rest of JR's above statement about gun safety (i'm quoting from his blog on the gone fishin' job, in case you wanted to find the source): "You do not point a gun at anything or anyone you are not willing to kill. [...] I had that drilled into my head at an early age. A gun has two settings - holstered and murderous. 'Wounded' is an accidental condition. Eliot in particular is aware of this, and one of the many reasons he does not use a gun is because he is trying to, well, not kill people anymore. Hardison is magnificently awful with weaponry. Although Parker is probably a fine shot, she's trying to play nice by the new rules, and only brought a weapon to the meet in the pilot because she wanted to get paid."

and all that is, more than anything else, the core and crux of everything i'm saying here. factor in how broken parker is, how we know she's made mistakes in the past, throw in archie's "a danger - to herself and to others" line, think about the tara rooftop incident... there's a picture emerging here. it's not a nice one, but it's unpleasantly clear.

so. where does that leave us?

well, it at least leaves me extremely certain for a vast number of reasons that eliot didn't need to teach parker how to shoot a rigged game.

[tonellivision]

rule three

authors note: this is my first story, so have some grace for my terrible writing. This is not based on my life, BUT i am a camp counsellor, so this is what I got the idea from.

setting: canadian cottage country

pairing: kimi antonelli x fem!reader

warnings: flirting, angst, slow-burn, fluff, reader is canadian (this doesn't matter to the plot), very light swearing, angry confession, death threats? (it's a joke), not proofread

word count: 10.3k (my bad)

summary: y/n has three rules to survive living at camp for a summer, and they work pretty well considering she has been going back for the last 4 years. the rules are simple: have fun, do not get caught up in drama and most importantly, do not fall for someone at camp. but what happens when she meets a boy that could make her break the most important of the three.

rules were great.

my rules made sure my camp life wasn't complete crap.

my rules had made sure that my second, third and fourth summers working at camp went perfectly, and i was sure they were going to make sure i had another wonderful year.

they were very simple:

have fun

don't get involved in drama

DO NOT fall for someone at camp

– june 22nd –

i had been driving on the back roads for nearly an hour after exiting the highway, on which i had also been driving on for several hours before. now, i was surrounded by trees, my arm sat on the open window, noah kahan playing through the speaker of my crv. my car was packed full of everything i’d need for the summer, my exams had finished a couple weeks before, i had graduated a few days after that and now, I was going to my favourite place on earth. life was good. as i drove, i passed familiar mail boxes, towering maples, and gravel driveways. soon, i saw the rustic sign which displayed the camp's name in big bold letters which made me smile softly, knowing i was nearly at my home away from home.

i turned down the dirt road and drove even further into the woods. i knew there was a large lake through the trees ahead (simply because i had lived here for 4 summers), but the trees were so dense, i couldn’t see anything. rays of sunshine shone through the thick ceiling of leaves, keeping my car in the shade haphazardly.

i adored my job as a camp counsellor. if i didn’t, i wouldn’t be coming back. i adored pouring into the kids lives over the summer, bonding with them, making bracelets, swimming, sitting by the bond fire. sure, the pay was ass and my sleep schedule was never healthy but there were pros and cons to every job.

as i pulled into the main clearing, i could already see the other staff bustling about. there were a lot of returnees but i saw a few new faces. i drove passed the dining hall, shouting a few “heys” and “hellos” to my friends out the window. most were dragging suitcases and other things they had brought from home down to the cabins, a cody, carter, heather and jenna (who must have already unpacked) were playing spikeball in the field, and luke, julia and a few others were just lounging on the hammocks chatting and catching up about their school year. i drove into my parking spot, which was really just an empty bit of grass by the edge of the woods, hopped out of my car, flipped my shades in front of my eyes and opened up my trunk to begin unloading everything.

although i had tried to pack as light as possible for the almost 10 weeks i’d be here, there was still a ton of stuff. one big suitcase, a laundry basket packed full of essentials i knew i'd need, my bedding, my guitar and a few extras. i huffed and decided to begin with the suitcase. I had just started to pull the suitcase out, when a voice came from behind me, making me jump and nearly drop it.

“need a hand?” the voice said. it was heavily accented, italian probably? i wasn’t sure. i turned and was greeted with probably the most attractive boy i had ever seen in my life. he had gorgeous curls and a charming smile and these soft brown eyes and- oh no. i cut off my thoughts and i quickly recovered, hoping my face hadn’t displayed the wave of fear that i washed over me when i realised there was, in fact, someone here that may cause me to break rule three. “i’m kimi, by the way”

“oh! that would actually be fantastic. i'm y/n” i said smiling and sticking out my hand, knowing that this boy would be my downfall.

— july 1st —

we had been at camp for over a week now. we spent the first week prepping, cleaning and training for when the kids arrived, so when they arrived on the 29th we were ready. we were three days into the first actual camp week, and things had been great. i had gotten assigned the twelve-to-thirteen-year-old girls, and they were awesome. super energetic, funny, but unfortunately, not blind.

they had seen me and kimi talking and obviously began teasing as soon as they realised. i had finally managed to calm their giggles and explain that coworkers do, in fact, have to speak to each other, and it is not a sign of me wanting him to be my boyfriend, but kimi decided he was going to have a staring problem.

the first few days, his eyes would drift to me. i could feel them on me, but i managed to keep my eyes away from his. not only did my campers notice kimis eyes, but even worse, HIS campers noticed. so now i had to not only deal with nine twelve-to-thirteen-year-old girls trying to get me to admit i liked kimi, but i also had to listen to another nine pre-teen boys screeching at kimi to “use his italian rizz to seduce her” (an: this is a direct quote i experience this summer, im being so fr rn).

aside from this whole fiasco, the week had been going great. i had already bonded pretty well with my campers, we had gone tubing, swimming, played capture the flag, all the stereotypical camp activities. and of course, today was canada day, so that meant bonfire, red and white themed snacks and fireworks.

the sun was just starting to dip behind the trees when we got to the bonfire. the air smelled like woodsmoke and bug spray, and the mosquitoes were already beginning their nightly war against everyones ankles. my campers had rushed off to grab s’mores supplies and claim the best log seats, shouting over each other about who could roast their marshmallow the best. i let them go. they were good kids. loud, chaotic, a little too observant for my liking, but good.

i took a seat at one of the logs at the back. quieter, in the dark away from the fire light, more peaceful. of course, the moment i pulled out my guitar, a handful of my girls immediately perched around me like ducklings, asking for me to play different songs.

i started strumming a song i was pretty sure none of them would know but i knew the other counsellors loved. death wish love was just something soft to keep their chaos level from climbing too high. i didn’t even get through half a verse before the whispers started.

“miss y/n, he’s staring again.” kiana whispered.

i didn’t look up. i didn’t have to. i already knew who “he” was. i could feel his gaze from across the firepit like it was physically leaning on me. perhaps that was a tad bit dramatic. but accurate.

“i’m sure he’s just zoning out,” i said, not looking up from my guitar. “there’s fire. it’s hypnotic.”

giggles. always with the giggles.

“yeah, sure, he’s zoning out into your soul,” layla sassed.

i sighed. deeply. “go toast your marshmallows before i make you clean the latrines tomorrow.”

that scattered them fast enough.

i continued quietly strumming and singing softly, hoping to seem far to busy to care about the boy across from me.

kimi was across the fire pit, sitting on a log with his boys, pretending to be engaged in whatever story one of them was telling about catching a frog or making a leaf boat, but he wasn’t slick. i could feel his eyes on me. again.

the first firework went off with a bang that made the younger campers squeal and the older ones cheer like it was a soccer game. i stopped playing, just resting the guitar on my lap, letting the kids get lost in the colours. it was quiet for a few seconds.

peaceful.

then someone sat down next to me.

i didn’t have to look to know who it was.

not peaceful.

“you’re good with them,” he said after a beat, voice low enough that only i could hear it.

i shrugged. “bribery and thinly veiled threats work wonders.”

he huffed a laugh.

“you have a pretty voice too,” he said. i felt the tips of my ears heat up.

i turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at me this time. he was staring straight ahead, his profile all soft angles and flickering shadows from the firelight. he looked calm. he looked—ugh. he looked good. so good.

“you're really bad at being subtle,” i muttered.

he smiled, barely. “maybe.”

we sat like that for a while. i should have moved. everything in my body said move. but i didn’t. i didn’t move away, and he didn’t either.

— july 15th —

wednesday was the counselors' first day off. a few of the kids’ parents had come up to visit for the day, taking them away from camp for little day trips and lakeside lunches, which meant one thing: blissful, precious silence. the directors took charge of the stragglers who hadn’t been picked up, and the rest of us got the green light to do whatever we wanted as long as we were back before curfew and didn’t, quote, "get arrested or start a forest fire."

so naturally, that’s how i found myself crammed into the old camp van with seven other half-sweaty, half-hyper counselors and one very worn-out air freshener dangling from the mirror. kimi was driving, which should’ve been illegal, honestly. not because he was bad at it—he was actually really good—but because there was something about him driving with one hand on the wheel, sunglasses on, window down, wind ruffling his curls, that made it really hard to remember how to form coherent thoughts.

i was in the middle seat, squished between julia and heather, trying very hard not to look at kimi in the rearview mirror. or out the window reflection. or literally anywhere near his direction. it was fine. totally fine.

carter was in shotgun when he spoke “town run? or beach first?”

“town,” jenna said immediately from the back. “we need snacks. and i need dry shampoo or i’ll actually die.”

“respectfully,” luke added next to her, “you already kind of look like a victorian ghost.”

jenna whacked him over the head with her empty gatorade bottle, and cody attempted to restrain luke, who had started trying to yank the bottle from jennas hands.

“honestly, why do we need campers when we already have you too,” i said, rolling my eyes playfully. kimi just grinned and turned the van toward the highway.

the town was tiny, one of those classic one-street, general-store-and-ice-cream kind of towns, but it was basically a major metropolitan city to us after being stuck in the woods for weeks. we pulled up to the general store called Buck n Wilsons General Store but the sign was missing the B and G so it was uck n Wilson eneral Store.

“okay, you’re with me,” julia said, dragging jenna and carter toward the toiletries aisle. cody and luke bee-lined for the cold drinks. heather disappeared without a word. wow. fantastic.

i lingered by the door, pretending to look at a rack of keychains but mostly just needing a second to reset from the body heat of the van.

“you coming, tesoro?”

i blinked. “sorry—what?”

i turned, halfway expecting i misheard him or he was talking to someone else. but no—there was kimi, holding a handbasket, giving me that stupid little smirk like he knew what he was doing.

“did you just—what?” i asked.

he tilted his head. “tesoro. you don’t know what that means?”

“should i…?.”

“it means… like… treasure, sweetheart, or something like that. i think that's the english equivalent”

i stared at him. he looked way too casual about the fact that he just casually called me sweetheart. in his native language. while standing next to a rack of beef jerky and car air fresheners. i felt my cheeks dust with colour.

“right,” i said slowly. “that’s… normal coworker talk.”

he grinned. his stupid grin. and i swear i felt my stomach do an actual backflip, which was dumb, because this wasn’t a rom-com and i wasn’t about to fall for the guy who’d just spent the last two weeks accidentally making my campers think i was secretly dating him.

we wandered down the candy aisle together. i kept my eyes very fixed on a display of sour peach rings, hoping my face would stop feeling like it was on fire. kimi noticed this too.

“you like these?” he asked, holding up the peach rings.

“julia does. she always eats any of the packs i bring back to camp.”

he raised an eyebrow. “didn’t ask that. i asked if you liked them.”

“… maybe.”

he tossed pack into my hand before i could stop him.

and yeah, maybe i did spend the next five minutes walking through the store like i was completely fine, like i wasn’t still thinking about that stupid word and the way he said it.

but i didn’t like him. i didn’t. i was not breaking rule 3.

i just needed a snack.

that’s all.

— july 23rd —

sneaking out after the campers were all asleep was a pretty common occurrence. the campers slept like the dead due to how much energy they spent throughout the day, so it was very easy thing to accomplish. were we good role models? absolutely not, but you know, we were still kids too.

i slipped out of my cabin and made my way down to the dock. the dock was my spot. it always has been. just far enough away from camp that i could breathe again, with the lake stretching out in front of me like a secret. i was already picturing myself sitting at the edge, toes dipped in the water, maybe humming a song under my breath—until i spotted someone already in my spot.

i paused, squinting.

a figure. hoodie. legs stretched out. confident posture.

of course.

i sighed, louder than i had meant to, and sure enough, he turned his head just slightly like he’d been waiting for that. even in the dark, i could feel the smirk on his face.

“you’re in my seat,” i said flatly, already considering turning back.

“oh no,” kimi said, stretching out a little more like he was making himself comfortable on purpose. “don’t tell me this whole dock belongs to you now.”

“it’s an unspoken rule,” i muttered. “everyone knows it.”

“funny,” he said. “i must’ve missed that part in training week.”

i hovered for a second, fully ready to turn and go sulk by the archery range or something, but then he said—

“wait. stay.”

i blinked. “why?”

“because i’d rather not sit out here alone like a weirdo. it’s less depressing if you’re here.”

“you are a weirdo,” i muttered, but didn’t move. he didn’t deny it—just patted the space beside him without looking at me. bold.

but i obliged. i sat next to him, letting my crocs graze the top of the water. we sat in silence. goodness, i hated it.

“so, what do you do?” i asked, breaking the silence.

“hmm?”

“like what are you going back to? after camp i mean? like school? a job?” i asked

he glanced over at me, a little grin playing on his lips. “i drive.”

i stared at him. “okay. vague.”

he shrugged. “it’s the truth.”

“like what—uber?”

he snorted. “no.”

“pizza delivery?”

“worse.”

i tilted my head. “then what?”

“formula one.”

i blinked. “like… racing? like… cars?”

kimi nodded, eyes fixed on the water like this was just some casual little hobby he was telling me about.

“formula one,” he repeated, like i didn’t hear him the first time.

i scoffed, a small smile playing on my lips. “you’re joking”

“i’m not.” he reassured me. “you can google it if you want”

“no, it’s okay, i believe you…” i said.

i mean, i knew formula one was a big deal—fast cars, european guys with accents, monaco and champagne or whatever. i wasn’t an expert or anything, but i’d heard of charles leclerc. and lewis hamilton. mostly because of cars 2 and tiktok,

i played it off though. i'm not sure why. maybe i just didn't want him to know that i knew it was a big deal.

“huh,” i said, trying to sound cool. chill. unbothered. “that’s… neat.”

he huffed a laugh. “neat?”

“i mean, it’s no camp counselor,” i said sarcastically, pulling my knees to my chest. “but sure.”

in the moonlight, i can see him smile.

we sat there for a while, the silence settling around us like an old friend. it was nice—too nice, almost. the kind of nice that made you want to close your eyes and just breathe, but that also made you wonder why the hell you felt so comfortable. he stretched beside me and let his fingers rest on mine. thank goodness for the darkness, because my cheeks were probably pink at this moment. but i didnt move my fingers. and he didn’t either.

“so,” kimi said, breaking the silence. “what about you? what’s your big plan after camp?”

i glanced over at him. “plan?”

“yeah, you’re training for something, right?”

“i’m training to be a medic,” i said, feeling the words roll off my tongue easily. “already finished half of my training, actually. graduated early. i was supposed to graduate next year, but i graduated this year.”

his eyebrow arched slightly. “graduated early?”

i shrugged, not really seeing what the big deal was. “yeah. but i don’t want to work in a hospital. that’s not my thing. i want to be an onsite medic, for places like camps, events, stuff like that.”

“not a fan of hospitals?” he asked, his voice softer now, more interested.

i shook my head. “hospitals are too… sterile? too much red tape. i’ve always liked the idea of being in the field, more hands-on. i’m already a trained lifeguard, so i know how to keep calm in high-pressure situations. but working in a hospital just feels… too boxed-in, you know?”

the quiet stretched again, but this time it felt different—comfortable. he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t trying to get too deep, but there was a warmth in his eyes like he actually cared about the answer. it was nice, but… maybe too nice. and that’s when he threw me off again.

“so,” he started, breaking the quiet. “do you have a boyfriend?”

i blinked, caught completely off guard. “what?”

“you know,” he said, leaning back a little, casually. “someone back home.”

my stomach dropped for a second, but i couldn’t let him see that. i let out a short laugh and looked away, trying to cover the sudden wave of unease. “no…why?”

“i don’t know,” he said, the smirk back in place. “just curious. you seem like someone who would have someone by now.”

i felt my face flush slightly, but i fought the heat creeping up my neck. “well, i’m not exactly looking for someone, and… people don't really pay attention to me.”

the awkward silence came back. what do you even say to follow up after that?

“so, you’re not staying in canada after the summer, then?” i asked, trying to sound casual, but something about the way i said it made my throat feel tight. it wasn’t like i wanted him to stay. it wasn’t like i was planning on visiting or something, but something about the idea of him leaving felt like it hit a little closer to home than i was willing to admit.

he paused, glancing at me sideways. “yeah. i’ve got pre-season training after summer, then the racing season starts in march.” he shrugged, his gaze drifting back to the water, the casual air about him making the words somehow sting more than i expected.

i tried to mask my disappointment with a quick, forced smile, but i wasn’t fooling anyone. least of all myself. "right," i said, staring at the ripples in the lake. "guess you’ve got a whole world to go back to."

it was stupid to feel anything about it, i told myself. i didn’t even like him. so why did it feel like a weight in my chest when i thought about him leaving?

kimi didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything about it. we just sat there, side by side, both lost in our thoughts, the quiet stretching longer than before.

— july 27th —

it was dusk and the lake looked like glass, all soft purples and pinks reflecting off the water like someone had dropped a watercolor palette on the sky. today was another counsellor off day. we had a few volunteers come up to deal with the kids for the day while we took some time to ourselves. the air smelled like sunscreen and pine, and it was warm in that sticky, end-of-july kind of way where no one really bothered with towels anymore because you were just going to end up wet again anyway.

i was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the dock with heather and jenna, our legs dangling over the water, damp from earlier swimming and now slowly drying under the setting sun. we had lemonade in plastic cups and were trading gossip in low voices, like we were thirteen again at a sleepover.

“i’m just saying,” heather said, sipping dramatically, “if kimi stares at you any harder during breakfast, the table’s going to catch fire.”

“he’s not staring,” i muttered, picking at a bow on my swim top.

“he absolutely is,” jenna added. “he doesn’t even blink when you walk into the dining hall.”

“i think he just has one of those… intense faces,” i said, already hating how lame that sounded.

heather gave me a look. “babe. be serious.”

i shrugged. “it’s not like it means anything. he’s just flirty with everyone. that’s his thing.”

“right,” jenna said with a knowing smirk. “and you just happen to blush every time he talks to you because you’re allergic to compliments.”

“i’m not blushing right now,” i shot back.

“because he’s not here,” heather said.

i rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to argue—but i didn’t get the chance.

strong arms suddenly wrapped around my waist and i let out a shriek, my cup of lemonade launching into the air.

“what the—kimi!”

before i could protest any further, i was lifted completely off the dock.

“no, no, no—don’t you dare—!”

he started towards the end of the dock which made me shriek more, my arms went instinctively around his neck, holding on tight in the name of self-preservation.

“oh, now you want to be close to me?” he teased, walking us steadily toward the edge of the dock.

“you’re insane. put me down—gently.”

“i was going to,” he said innocently, “but then you started holding on like your life depended on it. can’t say i hate it.”

“you are impossible,” i hissed.

“i’ve been called worse.”

he then tried to throw me off, but this was made difficult because due to how i was clinging to him like a koala.

he huffed. and then, he didn’t throw me in.

he just… fell.

pulled us both down into the lake with one solid, dramatic step, like he couldn’t bear to let go of me either.

the water was shock-cold against the warm air, wrapping around us in a whoosh of bubbles and sunken laughter. i hadn’t realized how tightly i’d been holding onto him until we hit the water—and even then, i didn’t let go.

we hovered there under the surface, still tangled together, limbs brushing. i felt his hand steady on my back, the soft pressure of his chest against mine. he looked at me underwater, amused, and something warm stirred in my stomach.

then—light as a whisper—his mouth brushed the edge of my jaw. too soft to be on purpose. too lingering to be an accident.

i blinked at him through the water.

and then we broke the surface, gasping and laughing. i pushed my wet hair out of my face and splashed him.

“you’re ridiculous,” i said, half out of breath.

“you liked it,” he grinned, swimming backward, smug and soaked.

behind us, heather and jenna were howling with laughter, someone was already yelling, “called it!” and i dove under the water, swimming to shore, hoping to hide the heat rising in my cheeks.

pretended it didn’t mean anything.

pretended it wasn’t everything.

— august 1st —

breakfast at camp was always chaotic in a familiar, comforting way—wooden benches scraping against the floor, the smell of slightly-burnt toast, kids yelling over one another about what table got pancakes first. organized chaos.

i sat at my usual table with my girls, doing my best to mediate a very passionate debate about whether ketchup belonged on eggs (it did) while keeping an eye on the one camper who always tried to sneak a third juice box.

everything was normal. or at least it should’ve been.

until i felt it again.

the staring.

i didn’t have to look. i knew. kimi’s eyes drifted across the dining hall and landed on me like i was the only person eating breakfast in a room of a hundred. and for some reason, he still hadn’t figured out how not to make it obvious.

i took a sip of my lukewarm coffee, very purposely not looking in his direction. if i didn’t look, i could pretend it wasn’t happening. that was the game. denial was key.

but of course, his campers had zero interest in subtlety.

“broooo, stop looking at her!” one of his boys, landon, shrieked loud enough for half the room to hear, voice cracking halfway through.

i didn’t flinch. didn’t blink. just nodded along as one of my girls described a dream that featured a dinosaur, her dad, and tate mcrae.

“she’s not even at our table, man, focus on your oatmeal!” jake added.

i bit down on the inside of my cheek, eyes trained firmly on the center of my table, nodding like i was still deeply invested in a camper’s retelling of her dream from last night.

“i think he’s trying to use his italian rizz again,” noah whispered—but not really whispered—like the concept of volume was optional.

adam wacked noah's hat, which was backwards, off. “his italian rizz doesn’t work when he stares through her skull, bro. she’s not, like, telekenesis or whatever that mind-reading power is.”

“do you think it works better in another language?” levi asked.

“ciao bella, you wanna share a canoe?” landon mimicked, throwing on the worst italian accent i’d ever heard in my life. the entire table burst into laughter. i heard kimi mumble something that must have been some curse word.

i pressed my lips together and absolutely did not smile. nope. not even a twitch. i was focused. ketchup-on-eggs level of focused.

“ma che cavolo…” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like this was a daily occurrence (it was). “i’m literally not even looking,” he muttered.

“you were literally staring,” noah said, dramatically rolling his eyes.

“no i’m not!” kimi snapped, voice cracking just slightly in a way that did nothing to help his case. “ragazzi! basta! just eat your cereal!”

“bro, he’s blushing!” jake yelled.

“dude, she’s gonna notice, and then you’ll have to move back to italy from embarrassment.”

“ask her out already! you’re so slow!”

kimi groaned again, sliding down in his seat like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “dio mio…”

and then—disaster struck.

one of his campers, matthew, a thirteen-year-old with absolutely no self-preservation instinct, shout across the hall, straight at my table, specifically at the girl directly across from me, “HEY LAYLA! ASK Y/N OUT FOR KIMI, HES SCARE-” he was cut off by kimi covering his mouth with his hand but the damage was already done.

my campers paused. then all hell broke loose. and it wasn’t even just our table. the sheer volume of the commotion had gotten the attention of all the other tables.

“i told you he was staring at her yesterday during canoe check-in!” another girl howled, slapping the table. “you didn’t believe me!”

“guys, guys—ask her if she’ll go on a date with him!”

“should we write it on a napkin?? pass it over like in class?!”

“NO,” I said firmly, but of course, my face betrayed me by turning an absolutely traitorous shade of red. “guys, eat your eggs.”

i refused to look over at kimi. i didn’t have to. i felt the heat coming off of him. the entire dining hall was vibrating, and there was no escape.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” Landon yelled, spinning around and ordering like a tiny general. “SHE’S RIGHT THERE! SHE MIGHT HEAR! HAVE SOME RESPECT!”

i took a deep breath. calm. cool. professional. unbothered.

my campers, the lovely girls they were, quietly whispered, trying to keep it a secret, as if the entire dining hall wasn’t jittering, “so do you like him?”

“i don’t even know what you’re talking about,” i said, taking a very casual sip of my coffee.

then i choked on it.

because from across the room, kimi finally looked up, cheeks red, muttered something in italian that sounded vaguely like a prayer, and grinned at me.

I did not like him. i had rules to keep.

— august 6th —

it was almost 2:45 a.m. when the unmistakable sound of muffled giggles and the creak of cabin floorboards yanked me from my sleep.

at first, i thought one of the girls was sneaking off to the bathroom. but then came the second sound—quick footsteps just outside the door, followed by a suspiciously soft thunk.

i sat up, immediately suspicious.

then came more whispering. another thunk. a laugh—quickly shushed.

groaning, i dragged myself out of bed, still wrapped in my favourite hoodie and matching grey sweatpants, hair a mess and eyes barely open. i shoved my feet into my crocs and stumbled to the door with every intention of scaring off whatever little monsters were giggling outside.

i yanked the door open.

bad move.

WHOOSH.

a full bucket of freezing water dumped straight on my head.

everything stopped. my breath caught in my throat. cold soaked through every layer in an instant.

my hoodie clung to my arms like wet seaweed, and my sweatpants were sagging from the water weight. i stood there, stunned, dripping, homicidal.

slowly, i looked up at the porch roof. a bucket lay upside-down near the edge.

on the path, frozen mid-step, stood alex—kimi’s personal twelve-year-old goblin of a camper—eyes wide with horror.

“oh my—,” he whispered. “it wasn’t supposed to fall—”

i stepped off the porch like a ghost straight from a horror movie.

alex let out a strangled squeak and scrambled backward.

behind him, more campers peeked from behind trees and bushes, giggling—until they saw my face.

“abort mission!” landon hissed from the shadows.

“dude. fix it.”

jake shoved kimi forward like a peace offering. “flirt with her- grovel- i don’t know!”

kimi stumbled a little, catching his balance as he stepped between me and alex. he looked like he was about to say something clever—but then his eyes landed on me.

and lingered.

i peeled off my hoodie with an angry huff, wringing it out with both hands. my t-shirt underneath was soaked too, clinging to my body like a bodysuit.

kimi blinked once. then again. his eyes dropped before he caught himself and immediately snapped his gaze up and to the side, ears going red.

“wow,” he said, clearing his throat, “that shirt is—um—very… absorbent.”

i raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over my chest automatically, which only made his jaw tighten as he visibly forced himself to keep eye contact.

“okay,” he muttered, voice pitching awkwardly. “let me fix this.”

he pulled his hoodie off in one quick motion and stepped closer, holding it out to me like an offering to an angry deity. it was still warm, soft, and smelled like smoke, pine, and whatever stupid cologne he pretended was just “soap.”

“you think a hoodie’s gonna fix this?” i said flatly, still dripping.

“well… it’s one of my favourites,” he replied, trying to smile. “only the prettiest, scariest girl at camp gets to wear it.”

i stared at him.

“that’s you,” he added quickly. “just to be clear.”

i snatched it from him and tugged it over my head, shivering slightly as the warmth sank into my skin. his fingers brushed my arm as he helped untwist the sleeve, and i hated how nice it felt. how easy he was to like when he wasn’t being an agent of chaos.

“better?” he asked with a crooked smile.

“no.” but my voice cracked slightly from the cold.

“you know,” he said, still lingering a step too close, “i could make it up to you. a muffin? maybe your own hoodie? one that hasn’t been part of a war crime?”

i sighed.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to commit actual murder.”

he grinned. “means i’ve got a shot.”

from the bushes, one of the kids whispered, “he’s winning.”

“GO TO BED,” i barked, and they scattered.

kimi stayed a second longer, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at me like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.

“you gonna be warm enough?” he asked finally.

“i’m fine.”

“you sure? you’re not gonna slip in your crocs and drown in a puddle?”

i shot him a glare over my shoulder and turned back toward my cabin.

but i didn’t give the hoodie back.

and maybe—just maybe—i didn’t totally hate how warm it was.

— august 11th —

the woods were quieter than usual.

darkness was draping itself over the trees, the moonlight shining through certain bare spots in the woods, bugs hummed everywhere and nowhere at the same time, the air heavy summer humidity that made your shirt stick to your back by the time you'd gone five steps. kimi walked beside me, talking about some gossip his mom had updated him on from back home.

we were supposed to be looking for campers, tagging the ones hiding in the woods for the big camp-wide game so they’d have to run back to base and start over. “night watchers.” sounded dramatic. for me,  it was a nice excuse to walk in the dark and pretend i wasn’t entirely aware of every time his hand brushed mine.

“i feel like we’re the villains of this game,” i said, scanning the trees. “just walking around, destroying dreams and catching kids in the act.”

“you say that like it’s not the best part,” kimi replied, his voice casual. he was twirling his flashlight in his hand like it was just an accessory, not something he was actually using. “we’re the final boss. very powerful.”

i rolled my eyes. “you and this power complex again.”

he smirked. “i’m just saying… the kids scream when they see me. that’s impact.”

“that’s trauma,” i corrected. “you’re lucky they’re not in therapy already.”

he laughed, and i glanced over at him—just a quick peek. of course, he was already looking at me. of course. his eyes crinkled a little when he smiled, and i hated that i noticed that. i also hated that i didn’t look away fast enough.

“you like being out here with me,” he said suddenly.

i blinked. “what?”

“you do,” he said, grinning wider now. “you always end up paired with me on these shifts.”

“yeah, well, the directors seem to think we work well together,” i stammered.

“mmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that's the only reason.”

i kicked a rock off the path, face heating against my will. “don’t flatter yourself, antonelli.”

“too late,” he said with a shrug. “you like me.”

“i like not running,” i corrected. “this is the laziest job and you just happen to show up every time i’m assigned it. that’s all.”

“you’re flustered.”

“i’m not!”

he laughed, smug and just a little too close. i shoved his shoulder.

god, he was so annoying.

“you’re one to talk about flustered,” i said, straightening a little. “remember breakfast?”

that stopped him. “breakfast?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you forgot,” I said, turning to grin at him now, the confidence slowly crawling back into my voice. “You staring at me from across the dining hall like it was the most subtle thing in the world. Your campers screamed at you.”

Kimi groaned. “That was not my fault.”

“Uh-huh. Because you definitely didn’t have the world’s worst staring problem.”

“I did not have a—”

“‘Broooo, stop looking at her!’” I mimicked in my best high-pitched camper voice.

He buried his face in his hands for a second. “They’re demons.”

“‘He’s trying to use his Italian rizz again!’” I added dramatically.

He dropped his hands with a groan. “You’re evil.”

“I’m accurate.”

“You loved it.”

I opened my mouth to argue—but couldn’t. He caught that, too. Of course he did.

“See?” he said, nudging my shoulder with his. “You liked it.”

I scoffed. “Please. I had to explain what the word rizz meant to the directors.”

“I made you blush, didn’t I?”

“You made yourself blush.”

“No way,” he said. “You did first.”

I shook my head, but I could feel the color creeping into my cheeks again. I looked away.

He leaned in a little, not touching but closer now. “You're blushing right now, cara mia.”

I shoved his arm. “Stop calling me things I don’t understand!”

He just grinned. “Would you rather I translate it?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Kimi—”

“It means ‘my dear.’”

Oh.

I blinked at him, my mouth going dry. “That’s—why would you—”

“I told you,” he said, tilting his head with a faux-innocent shrug, “you like me.”

“I—” I choked on the word and shook my head fast. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re in denial.”

I sped up my pace to get away from the smugness radiating off of him, but he easily matched my steps, his grin only getting bigger.

“You so are.”

“I’m literally just here to tag campers,” I muttered. “This is my job.”

“And I’m just here for the game,” he said lightly.

I glanced sideways at him.

We both knew we were lying.

— august 21st —

i don’t know when it shifted.

maybe it was gradual—like water warming under a flame, slow enough that i didn’t notice until it was too hot to touch.

but it hit me all at once.

i was brushing sand off my legs after waterfront, still damp from swimming, and someone said his name—just in passing. a joke. something dumb about how he helped carry a canoe like it was nothing. everyone laughed. i smiled too, automatically. like muscle memory.

and then it hit me.

i like him.

not the heehee haha kind of like i had been telling myself it was. not the kind of like where you tell your friends he's hot and tease each other when he walks by. not a surface-level crush you nurse for fun during the summer and forget by september.

i actually like him.

i felt it like a wave slamming into my chest, all salt and pressure. i sat down on the edge of the dock like my knees gave out.

oh no.

i like the way he notices things. how he always grabs an extra juice box at breakfast because he knows i never get one.

i like the way his voice sounds when he says my name, even if i pretend not to notice.

i like the way he looks at me like i’m someone worth staring at.

and i hate that i like that.

because he’s leaving.

of course he’s leaving.

this is camp. summer. temporary. that’s the whole point.

and he’s not staying in canada.

he said it like it was nothing. just a fact. like saying he didn’t like olives.

i should’ve listened more closely when he said he wasn't staying.

he’s not even trying to stay.

he’s not mine.

he never was.

i pressed my hands to my face and groaned, low and quiet, like if i got the sound out of my chest it might take the feelings with it.

stupid. so stupid.

i don’t want this. i don’t want to care about someone who’s already halfway gone.

i don't want to be the girl who falls for the summer boy with the smile and the accent and the stupid curly hair.

i want to go back.

back to teasing him and pretending like none of it mattered.

back to not looking forward to night watcher shifts.

back to pretending i didn’t feel anything.

i have to kill this feeling. now.

so that’s the new plan.

i’ll avoid him. not in a dramatic, over-the-top way. just… enough. i won’t sit next to him. i won’t stay behind when he lingers after staff meetings. i won’t walk with him after curfew or laugh at his dumb one-liners or let my eyes meet his across the dining hall.

i’ll let it fade.

it has to fade.

because the alternative—

the alternative is letting myself fall harder for someone who’s already made it clear he’s not staying.

and i can’t do that.

not again. the rules were in place for a reason.

so no more late-night dock talks.

no more brush-of-the-shoulder, is-this-flirting or not moments.

no more getting soft because he says cara mia in a voice that makes my name feel different.

i’ll be fine.

i just have to forget i ever liked him in the first place.

Easy.

— August 25th —

camp was quiet in the strangest way.

the kind of quiet that felt wrong. no shouting across the field, no whistles, no splashing at the waterfront, no kids trying to convince me that brushing their teeth “technically” counted as showering.

just leftover tan lines, half-zipped duffel bags, and the smell of the last campfire still hanging in the air.

cleanup week was always a little depressing, but i didn’t mind the work. scrubbing out cabins, hauling lost and found bins, folding half-destroyed t-shirts into boxes for next year, it kept my hands busy.

which was good. because my head was a mess.

i hadn’t talked to kimi in three days.

not really.

sure, there had been a few hellos, a nod here and there. but nothing real. no quiet late-night conversations or casually bumping shoulders on the path.

because i was trying not to. on purpose.

it shouldn’t have mattered anymore. the campers were gone. camp was wrapping up. in a few days, we’d all be scattered—back to cities, universities, real life. he’d be back on a plane. probably already had a suitcase half-packed.

so why did it still ache when i saw him out of the corner of my eye?

why did i still know the exact sound of his laugh from across the dining hall when the staff was eating their leftover pizza and pretending they weren’t about to cry when they left this place?

i was elbow-deep in a plastic bin of sports equipment when i felt someone behind me. not footsteps—just the weight of presence.

i didn’t turn around.

but of course.

“did i do something?”

his voice was soft. careful.

i took my time adjusting the dodgeballs, hoping maybe he’d give up.

he didn’t.

“because if i did, i want to fix it,” he added. “but i feel like you’ve been—”

he paused, searching for the word.

“—distant.”

i forced a laugh, short and hollow. “i’ve been busy.”

“right,” he said, clearly not buying it. “busy avoiding me?”

i finally looked up. he was standing just a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, hair a little messy like he’d just taken off his hat. he looked… confused. and a little frustrated.

i shrugged. “it’s the end of the summer. everyone’s doing their own thing.”

“that’s not what this is,” he said, stepping closer. “come on. i know you.”

those words—i know you—they hit me right in the gut.

because he did.

i didn’t say anything. i just turned back to the bin and started aggressively re-rolling a soccer jersey that was never going to fold properly.

“you don’t even look at me anymore,” he said quietly. “did i say something wrong?”

“no.”

“then what is it?” he asked, more desperate now. “you were fine last week. and now you act like i’m… like i don’t even exist.”

i squeezed my eyes shut for a second and inhaled. big mistake. he smelled like lake water and camp laundry detergent. and that stupid cologne.

“i don’t want to do this right now,” i said, trying to keep my voice steady.

kimi stepped closer. “why not?”

“because you’re leaving,” i said sharply, finally turning to look at him, eyes hot. “okay? you’re not staying. and i don’t want to make things more complicated than they already are.”

he blinked, stunned silent for a moment.

i hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“i’m not asking you to make things complicated,” he said softly.

“no, but i made it complicated,” i shot back, trying to shove the lid on the bin. “and now i need to uncomplicate it.”

his eyes searched mine like he wanted to argue, but i didn’t let him. i grabbed the bin, hauled it to the storage closet, and didn’t look back.

i needed space. i needed logic. i needed a time machine to take me back before i let myself fall for the one person who was never going to stay. i needed to go back to when i started breaking rule 3 and slap some sense into her.

and most of all, i needed this summer to end.

before i did something stupid.

like ask him to stay.

— august 26th —

nine weeks. nine weeks of working with him. nine weeks of stupid jokes. nine weeks of our cabins pranking each other. nine weeks of him stealing my bug spray because he didn't bring any from italy. nine weeks of long talks at the fires after our campers had all gone to sleep. nine weeks of lingering touches. nine weeks of flirting. nine weeks of flustered sighs. nine weeks of teasing from campers. nine weeks of ignoring said teasing. nine weeks of the damn feelings not leaving, but not having enough willpower to distance myself from him.

i was back on the end of the dock, my toes dangling in the water, breathing in the fresh air. the lake was beautiful tonight. calm, reflecting the clear night sky. it was quiet, the only sounds coming from crickets in the woods and quiet laughter and voices from a fire across the little bay we were situated on. the other counsellors had all gone to sleep after the late night bonfire party we had to celebrate the end of the summer. i took in a deep breath, letting my hands run gently over the smooth wood of the dock. it was always bittersweet to leave camp, but this time was particularly bad.

i buried my head in my hands. gosh, i was so damn stupid. i had that feeling in my chest, like that tightness you have when you need to sob.

we only had two more days at camp until we went home. It had only been a day since our conversation. I hated ignoring kimi. i knew it bothered him. hell, it probably bothered me more. but i knew i had to detach from him before i went home. i needed to get rid of the feelings which had been bubbling up over the past nine weeks. i shouldn’t have let the feelings develop in the first place, but now, i was in a situation where every time i saw his face, the tips of my ears felt hot, i could feel the butterflies in my stomach and my heart began pounding ridiculously fast.

stolen glances, lingering touches, teasing, subtle flirting. what the hell was i thinking?

it could never work. Maybe if i had known that he was a formula one driver from the very beginning, i could have stopped myself from liking him. Why did he have to be a formula one race-car driver? and why did he have to be a damn good one too? Before him, i didn't know much about formula one, except for charles leclerc from the tiktok edits that popped up on my fyp and hamilton from cars, but he patiently and passionately explained it. I learn about the paddock, the pits, the other drivers. I knew things now. he'd be driving for mercedes this coming march, travelling around the world, probably getting with those drop dead gorgeous models who walked around the paddock.

maybe i let myself like him because at the time, i didn’t realise how impossible the situation was until it was too late.

maybe i let myself like him because i didn’t know he would be travelling for practically the entire year.

maybe i let myself like him because i thought maybe, just maybe, there's a chance this could work. but there wasn’t, and i was stupid for thinking otherwise.

i knew he was behind me before he spoke. kimi was a quiet walker, but you can’t silence the vibrations sent by your feet through a dock. i stayed silent though, not saying anything, not moving, silently praying he'd just leave.

“why are you ignoring me?” kimi’s voice cut through the silence. i breathed in softly and didn’t move, keeping my head forward, watching the moon's reflection in the still waters.

“i told you. i dont want to make things more complicated.” i said simply, trying to keep my voice steady but there was a subtle shake in the last few words. i could hear him huff in frustration before marching over and sitting next to me, letting the tips of his sandals dip in the water.

“y/n.” he said heatedly. angry? maybe. but there was something else there too. “look at me. What did i do?” he was pleading.

i looked at him. goodness, he was beautiful. everything about him made my heart beat quicker and i was forced to calm my breathing. “You did nothing, kimi. i’m fine.”

"no, somethings wrong,” he countered.

“kimi, there's nothin-” i began, but was quickly cut off.

“no, it's not nothing. suddenly you just don’t want to speak to me, look at me, or even be in the same room.” he shot back. he was angry, but i could still hear the pleading in his voice. he was hurt. i didn't want to hurt him, but i knew i couldn’t tell him why i had to.

“i don’t know, i’m just tired-” i mumbled feebly, turning away again, when i felt kimi’s hand grab mine, pulling my attention back to his face.

“no, you’re not. something else is going on. i’ve seen you tired, and you are never like this! you have never acted like this when you’re tired. i’m leaving in two days and you can’t even look at me!” he insisted. his voice had the shake mine did.

i didn’t answer and he pushed again. i could feel the tears welling in my eyes. no. i could not cry. not tonight. not over a stupid boy. even if that boy was the sweetest person in the whole world.

“y/n whats-” i got up at his words and started walking down the dock but he was faster, getting up after me and grabbing my wrist gently. “-wrong?”

“what if i don’t want to get hurt, kimi?” i snapped, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“what do you mean?! by me? i would never hurt you-” he started, but this time i cut him off.

“you’re leaving me kimi! i mean you’re going off to be a formula one driver, and you won’t have time for me anymore, and i’ll see you with some other girl-” i caught myself. crap. i felt a few of the tears beginning to fall. i pursed my lips, looking down. i tried to pull my wrist away, but he held me firm.

“w-what are you talking ab-”

i couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“i like you, dammit! Not just a little crush! Not just one I can be teased about! I genuinely have feelings for you, and it is physically sickening how far gone i am. and now you’re going off to your mercedes drivers training, then you will g-go to formula one and i’ll never see you again, and i’ll have to watch you succeed from here, with some rich girl on your arm that won’t be me. And I hate it,” I spat, pacing back and forth at the edge of the dock.

he opens his mouth to interject but i raise a finger "I'm not done."

“i hate feeling this way. i hate you making me feel this way. i hate how you stare at me like it means something when you’re just going to leave in a few days. i hate that you’re so damn perfect and i can’t get you out of my head. i hate the way you make me laugh when i’m supposed to be mad at you, and i hate how i’ve started thinking about you at night when i know i’m not supposed to. and i hate this damn pit in my stomach because i know it’s never going to happen. you’re leaving. you’re going back to that stupid, perfect life of yours, and i’m stuck here. and it’s killing me,” i breathed in and he looked like he was about to say something but i continued.

“i’ve been ignoring it for weeks, pretending like this didn’t matter because i knew it was just gonna hurt when you left. but then you kept looking at me—looking at me like i was the only one in the world who mattered, and i started to believe it! and now i’m here, standing in front of you, and i’m trying to convince myself that it’s just some stupid crush, or maybe it’s just this summer heat that’s getting to me, but it’s not. it’s real. and it fucking terrifies me.” i stopped in my tracks, chest heaving, crying.

he opens his mouth to interject but i raise a finger "i'm not done."

i took another breath before starting my rant again. “i don’t want to fall for you. i don’t. you’re leaving, kimi. and i’ve been so stupid because i thought maybe, just maybe, i could make it through the last days of camp without really feeling anything for you. but now i do. and i can’t—i can’t—watch you walk away without feeling like i’m breaking into a million pieces. you’re everything i’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to want.”

i could see his face change, the hurt there, but there was something else too—a softness in his eyes that didn’t match the anger and frustration in my voice.

“you’re so fucking selfish, kimi,” i spat out, the words bitter on my tongue. “you come into my life like it’s just this temporary thing, like i’m some game you can play with for a few weeks, and i’m supposed to act like everything’s fine while you go back to your perfect little life and forget about me! well, i’m not fine, okay? i’m not okay. and i’m not just some passing thing for you to fixate on until the end of the summer and then leave behind.”

“i let myself actually like you,” i said, my voice cracking. “and that was so stupid, because this isn’t real. it’s just camp, and you’re just—this perfect, impossible thing that i can’t have, and i hate that i let you get under my skin. i hate that i care—”

but i didn’t finish the sentence.

because suddenly, kimi’s hands were cupping my face and his mouth was on mine and everything—every word, every fight, every glance across the dining hall—fell away like it had just been waiting for this moment to crash.

i froze for a second, mid-breath, mid-heartbeat, before my body finally caught up with what was happening and i kissed him back. hard.

it wasn’t gentle. it wasn’t soft or slow or sweet. it was weeks of tension, of looking and not touching, of biting our tongues and pretending and denying and wanting. it was angry and messy and real.

when he finally pulled away, i was breathless and stunned, his forehead pressed against mine.

“you talk too much,” he whispered.

my heart was doing backflips. i tried to glare. “you’re one to talk.”

he laughed, just a little, and didn’t move. “you’re wrong, you know.”

“about what?”

“about this being camp. about this not being real.” he pulled back to look at me fully, eyes wide and shining. “i’m not letting you go just because the summer ends.”

“kimi, you have to.”

“no, listen.” his hands dropped to my shoulders like he needed to hold onto something solid. “you said you want to be an onsite medic. come with me.”

“what?”

“formula one teams travel with medics. we need people like you. i need someone like you. i’ll talk to the team doctor, or i’ll talk to toto. or—i don’t know—i’ll fake an injury just so they have to bring you. you’re smart, you’re trained, you’re already halfway there.”

i blinked. “you want me to—what—follow you across the world?”

“if that’s what it takes.” he was rambling now, his voice shaking a little with adrenaline. “or—or we do long distance. i’ll fly you out when you want to come. i’ll come back during the break. i’ll do long-distance. i’ll come back here in the winter. i’ll quit if i have to—”

“kimi—”

“i don’t care how we make it work, i just know i want to. i want you. i’m serious. i’ll give them excuses or fake injuries or learn how to crash a car safely if it means they have to bring you to me. i want you there. or here. or wherever you want to be, as long as you let me be in it with you.”

my brain had officially short-circuited.

“be my girlfriend,” he said, without even hesitating. “please. i’m asking you now before i lose the nerve.”

i stared at him, heart racing. “you’re serious.”

“i’ve never been more serious,” he said, breathless. “and you can still say no, if that’s what you want. but i’m in. i’ve been in. since, like, week two.”

i laughed—stupid, giddy, overwhelmed laughter—and shook my head. “you’re insane.”

“only for you,” he said, grinning. “say yes.”

i didn’t answer.

i just kissed him again.

this time it was slower, my eyes fluttered shut. i felt his hands on my cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears which had fallen down my cheeks. one of his hands moved to the back of my neck, deepening the kiss with a content sigh. the other slid down to my ass, which made me roll my eyes and move his hand up to my lower back. i could feel him smiling against my lips. my hands moved to his hair, letting my fingers tangle in his curls. i felt his tongue swipe my lower lip, almost begging for an entrance. i would have rolled my eyes again but instead i gave him what he wanted, opening my mouth just enough for him to slip his tongue into my mouth and keep kissing me. my one hand was tangled in his hair, and the other moved to slide down the front of his hoodie. i heard him hum with contentment as i kept kissing him. when we finally broke the kiss, i wrapped my arms around him and hid my face in his chest. he held me tight. i didn't even realise i was still crying, maybe from the rant, maybe the weeks of tension and yearning, but he held me tight, tracing circles on my back, his chin resting on the top of my head, occasionally pressing kisses to it, mumbling stuff in italian which i still couldn’t understand. i felt his chest rising slowly and steadily, his fingers running down the back of my sweatshirt. and we stayed like that for a while, me in his arms, slowly pulling myself together, and kimi holding me as if i would sprint into the lake if he let go.

“so, you didn’t answer my question,” he said into my hair, his voice low and warm. “can i be your boyfriend… please?”

i didn’t look up. i couldn’t. my face was still buried in his hoodie, my emotions barely under control. but i gave a small nod, a soft hum of approval vibrating in my throat.

“use your words, mi vida,” he murmured in my ear, his hand gently finding my chin and tilting it until i was forced to meet his eyes.

“yes, kimi,” i said, breath catching. “i would love that.”

his gaze softened. one hand moved from my chin to my cheek, brushing away a stray tear. and then—he laughed. quiet, breathy, affectionate.

“stop laughing at me!” i protested, though the corner of my mouth was already tugging into a smile.

“i’m not—” he tried to defend, still laughing, “i just didn’t expect you to be crying when i finally asked you out.”

i rolled my eyes but leaned into his touch anyway, my heart doing that fluttery thing it had no business doing.

“you know you made me break my third rule?” i said, voice barely above a whisper.

he smirked. “yeah, i heard about that one. ‘don’t fall for anyone at camp,’ right?” he stepped closer, arms sliding fully around me. “didn’t really go that well for you, huh?”

“oh, shut up,” i muttered, burying my face back into his chest to hide the smile i couldn’t stop.

maybe breaking my rules was a little okay.

© all works belong to tonellivision. please do not copy, translate or reupload to third party websites or feed my work to ai, character bots or recommend on tiktok/ twitter.

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ UNEXPECTED FEELINGS .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ rodrick heffley x fem!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.0k

DESCRIPTION after going head to head with Rodrick, an unexpected kiss turns things around.

CONTENT fluff ꣑ perv!rodrick ꣑ arguing ꣑ some smut talk.

THOUGHTS i don’t usually post this late but i really wanted to put it out. been a hot minute since i dropped something. also thank y’all for 700+ followers, i appreciate y’all so much! part two is in the drafts.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. based on this ask

“MOM!” You shout, running into her as she’s about to leave the house. You’re clearly heated and annoyed at the current events of your life.

“Yes (name)?” She sighs, knowing exactly what’s going to come out of your mouth as she's been hearing it ever since you were forced to move in with the heffley’s because of the house getting infected by termites.

“Can we please leave this house? I can’t stand living with Rodrick, he’s so… so annoying and irritating.” you complain, you and him have been at each other's throats since you moved in and it hasn’t been fun for anyone. It’s like he lives to make you angry, from stopping you watching your favorite show to stopping you from studying quietly for your college classes with his loud music and band practices.

While your parents are using Greg’s room, you occupy Rodrick’s room in the basement, which he wasn’t fond of, his bed isn’t much of a problem but because it’s his room, he doesn’t seem to understand knocking before entering, causing you to have to cover yourself from time to time. You had it up to here with him and just needed to leave, you wish your mom had other friends to move in with for the time being but because she’s best friends with his mom, you’re stuck here.

“Honey, the house is not ready yet. They’ll let us know when but for now, you have to try your best to get along with him. Be grateful that the heffley’’s allowed us to stay with them.”

You open your mouth to rebuttal but she gives you a stern look before leaving, today she’s going out with Susan for a girls day out while Frank went camping with Manny and Greg so technically you’re alone with Rodrick and you’re not happy with that.

You pull out your phone to text your best friend Heather, to see what she’s doing and if she’s available to hang. A smile brews on your face once you see she’s free, meaning you can go over to her house. You go downstairs, pick out a cute outfit, making sure everything you need is in your bag. All you need to do before leaving is take a shower.

A frown now sits on your face once you realize Rodrick’s in the bathroom. ‘He’s been in there for too long’’ you think to yourself as you saw him go in there a few minutes before you had the conversation with your mom. You knock heavily on the door as if you couldn’t take it anymore. “Rodrick, get your ass out of the bathroom right now!”

“Are you blind? Don’t you see me using it?!” He responds back, making you more angry than before. “You've been hogging the bathroom. I’m going out so I need to take a shower, surely you’re done by now!”

Rodrick opens the bathroom door, steam coming out as you take in his appearance which he had a towel wrapped around his torso and his body on display for you as water droplets drip down his chest towards his pelvis. “Hmm, if you like what you see, take a picture it’ll last longer,” he taunts, making you shiver at the thought as you couldn’t see yourself being with him.

“In your dreams, I could never go for someone like you. Now please get out,” you spit out, eyebrows furrowed together as you make eye contact with him. “I don’t think so, maybe you can ask me nicely.”

You roll your eyes as you watch his smirk sit on his lips. “I don’t have time to argue with you, I have somewhere to be!”

“Hmm, do you plan on wearing this?” your eyes widen in shock when you see what he is holding in his hands, one of your red lace panties you had drying on the shower rack. “As if that’s any of your business, give it back, you shouldn’t even be touching what’s not yours!” you yell at him trying to get it back from him but he takes it out of your reach since he’s taller than you, making you jump for it, his eyes watch how your boobs bounce each attempt you make.

Knowing he will remember it during his late night jerking off with your panties, he stole that you don’t know he has. He didn’t think the living with you is such a bad thing, sure he didn’t want to give up his room but sometimes he gets to catch glimpses of your body, like when you first came, he remembers vividly of the short skirt you were wearing as you dropped something and when you bent down to retrieve it, he could see your pretty panties clinging to your pussy, making him hard at the sight.

You finally grab your underwear as he seems distracted at the moment. “I bet these are the only pair you have seen in your life. Can’t imagine a girl putting up with your ass.”

“You’re so annoying, all you do is yap and yap.”

Rodrick knows just the way to push your buttons, watching how you get more angrier than you were before, opening your mouth to say more but before you can, he closes the gap between you, colliding his lips onto yours, you’re frozen in shock, trying to process what’s going on but your body betrays you as you pull yourself towards him, opening your mouth to give him more access.

Rodrick hands grips your hips tightly as his tongue dances along with yours. This feeling that you feel deep inside of you is different from anything you ever felt about him.

When you pull apart from each other, you lean against the doorframe, trying to catch your breath, trying to process what just happened. “Bathroom all yours,” Rodrick comments, with a smirk on his face as he leaves to get dress, leaving you there shock still written on your face. You bring your fingers to your lips, contemplating the feeling you felt during the kiss, not sure if you really wanted it to end.

“What just happened?” You ask yourself, swiveling your body to look in the direction he went but you decide to take your mind off of it for now so you can be on time to Heather’s house, oh how she would love to hear this.

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[writtenbythemoonandstars]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Possible content warnings: Jealousy and insecurity, questions of self worth, and a minor injury.

1.1k words

---

Black. With two sugars. And a splash of milk. That’s how Robby likes his coffee. 

Practically the opposite of his girlfriend. Who likes more cream than coffee. 

One in each hand. Made the way they like it respectively. A smile on her face as she walks in to the ER while on her way to work, expecting to find her hot doctor boyfriend. 

Well. She does. Just not in the way she thought. 

Obviously she knows Robby’s dated people before. She likes Jake’s mom, Janey. She also knows about Heather. Dr. Collins. Also a doctor at the PTMC. 

Squeezing the coffee cups tightly, watching them. Maybe to someone else they’re just discussing a patient. Maybe she’s simply asking her senior attending a question. Or presenting him the case. 

But to her… she can’t help the jealousy monster that crawls up her throat. Hot. Tight. 

“What do you think?” A voice beside her. Looking over his badge reads nurse. Mateo. 

“Huh?” Trying to snap herself out of it. She has no reason to be jealous, right? They broke up a long time ago. And Robby was with her now. He loves her… 

So why does the feeling go away? 

“They dated a long time ago.” This nurse has no idea who she is. “We have a betting pool on when they’ll get back together.” 

“… you think they will?” Trying to not let the emotions show through her tone. 

Mateo shrugs, “the kind of relationship they had? I don’t think you ever move on from that.” 

The look in their eyes. She can see it. The way Robby smiles softly when she’s not looking. The mouthed, “good job” when she does the procedure correctly. 

His actual girlfriend had been standing here for the last ten minutes and he hadn’t looked away from her once to notice she was there. 

“Woah.” Mateo’s voice snaps her out again. This time because she’d squeezed the coffee cups so hard they spilled over her hands. 

It stings in a good way. “Come on. I’ll get you and ice pack.” The hot liquid turning her hands a bright pink color. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, letting herself be guided to sit on the bed. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Mateo shrugs. 

She doesn’t hear much of anything else he says. The salve on her hands. The cool water. The dismissal of a doctor who must’ve wondered what was going on in here and if the nurse needed help. 

Thoughts spiraling.

Heather is loved here. She’s pretty… much prettier. Smarter too. She’s a fucking doctor. Why wouldn’t Robby want her? Clearly she’s much more on his level. 

“Thanks..” she gives Mateo a small smile when he informs her he’s finished. 

The nurses and doctors have a betting pool on when they two will get back together. “What am I doing?” Whispering to herself. 

Robby still hadn’t noticed she was even there. It was at least an hour. With the added medical attention. 

When he knocks on her door at 8 after his shift she doesn’t answer. 

Or the second time. 

She hasn’t answered his calls and left texts unread. 

“Honey…” His voice soft through the door. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks. 

“N-no-“ her voice sounding more wet than she intended. 

“Please can I see your face?” Still through the door. 

It’s a long moment before eventually the door opens and his hands immediately touch her splotchy cheeks. “What’s wrong?” He asks, wiping another stray tear. 

“…” there’s no answer right away. “Brought you coffee this morning.” She settles on. 

“Oh yeah? Is that what I saw on the er floor about 10 in the morning?” He sounds amused. 

“Probably. Costed me 8 dollars and some burn cream.” His expression changes. Checking her over for injuries. 

Showing him his hands. “Do you know the nurses have bet on when you’ll get back together with Heather?” Ripping the bandaid off while he’s still inspecting her palm. 

“What?” He sounds confused. 

“There’s a bet. Some kid, Mateo, was asking me how long I thought until you’d get back with her.” She shrugs. Trying to sound nonchalant. 

But she is very much chalant.

“Honey… I don’t understand what’s going on.” Shaking his head. 

“She’s pretty.” Another shrug like there isn’t a knife being twisted in her heart. 

“So are you.” He replies. “You’re very pretty. I love how pretty you are.” 

“She’s smart too.” 

“You’re smart. Remember last weekend when I couldn’t figure out how to turn the tv on?” He leans in. His forehead touching hers. 

“It was unplugged.” Comes the sarcastic response. 

“And look how smart it was for you to even check. I didn’t even think of that.” Robby kisses her nose. “Where is this coming from?” 

It’s a long time before he hears a reply. 

“You have chemistry. I see it. Everyone in the hospital sees it. I’ve been dropping coffee off for months and none of them know who I am. Especially not in relation to you.” She explains. More tears stinging her eyes. “Heather is a gorgeous woman. Fucking smart.. And she’s kind.” A incredulous shake of her head. “I have this… this… it feels like heart burn.” Trying to explain. “I want to be her and kill her at the same time.” 

A deep breath. “I don’t like that feeling.” 

Robby pushes her hair back behind her ears. He chooses his words carefully. “Heather and I split because I couldn’t let my past go. I didn’t let her in. Didn’t make time to see her. We both had a lot of baggage that we didn’t want to unpack.” 

Hands hands around the back of her neck. Tilting her head up. “You… I don’t ever want to make you feel that way. That you think someone- anyone- could be prettier than you. Not to me.” 

Pressing a kiss to her lips. “You may not be medically smart but I don’t know shit about social media. How to make money off posting photos online.”

Another kiss. “We talk. You told me about your family. I feel like I can tell you about mine..” making sure she’s looking in his eyes. “You male me want to take time to see you. Even if it’s watching shitty movies with take out on the floor of your living room.” 

A smile. The tears on her cheeks reduced to temporary stains. 

“I’m sorry.” Guilt replacing the monster that ruined her afternoon. 

“Don’t be sorry honey.” Kissing her. His hands moving to her hips. His next words against her mouth, “I will make sure everyone knows about you tomorrow. Take down that fucking bet.” 

She laughs. The only sound Robby wants to hear for the rest of his life. 

---

Hey everyone! Went through some minor writers block and work got pretty crazy but here you go!

Unedited, like always. and I may go back and add more to this but I had this thought earlier today and just wanted to get it out asap so I'm not sure of its quality. idk

thanks!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

--

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

-

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

-

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

-

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

-

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

-

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

-

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

-

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

--

masterpost

[pastafossa]

DDBA THOUGHTS, FIRST TWO EPS.

It's been roughly 90 minutes and I am still processing, jesus fucking christ.

Set behind a cut due to spoilers but my thoughts are pretty positive, even if that shit ran my heart over like a dump truck. Below you will find:

My frantic reaction thoughts I wrote down during or immediately after (character dissections will be marked)

My overall thoughts on the first 2 eps as a whole

Dissection of Matt and where I think he's at currently in this headspace

Yes that's right, I'm using the sad gif. Spoilers ahead. Feel free to skip down to whichever part you like!

I will have more thoughts tomorrow but I am still feeling fucking weird because I'm trying to process both the new series events and the fact that Our Man is back after 6 years in show format and I feel like someone who's gone from starving to suddenly full of food and my body is CONFUSED

The mood whiplash in the first 15 mins going from, yup we're all happy, to absolute fucking building dread and then horrified agony was, I won't lie, well done. You made me want to vomit, thanks writers.

Spent the whole fight with Bullseye just sobbing and whispering, 'oh no, oh no, oh Foggy, baby, no, Matt, no-', pretty sure some part of me inside is stiiiiiiiiill sobbing, it will always be sobbing, gonna relive that for days 😭

Matt crying on the rooftop? Him being so fucking distraught that all he could do was lean on Dex even though Dex was the killer? Just fucking gut me. Worst we've ever seen him, bar none.

DISSECTION MOMENT: He pushes Dex over the edge. I'd wondered if he'd try to kill Dex, with that being his, 'A Line Was Crossed', and tbh I think if any canon death could make Matt kill, it would be Foggy's. And he certainly tried. Matt's always walked such a fine line when it comes to murder, and he's come VERY close before, usually only dodging it because the baddie gets lucky or we can squint and say they did it to themselves. Welp, here we are again, and this time I think the only reason Dex is alive is because of all that technology we saw them packing into Dex at the end of S3. To Matt? To Matt, he killed. That Dex technically lived is a coincidence. Matt tried to break his rule. He tried.

Yes I am still parked in Denial Hill wondering if Foggy will come around somehow, I need some time to organize my thoughts, but even if he's dead dead, I'm going to wait and see if they pull an Elektra and find some way to revive him.

DISSECTION MOMENT: Matt's new apartment (RIP our beloved old loft cause someone's living there now from what I understand) is nice but something I noticed is it's... a little colder. And I think that's intentional. Matt's old apartment was rougher around the edges, warmer, and I'd argue a little more symbolic both of the Kitchen and who he was each night on the streets. Half the reason he chose that old apartment was the roof access. This new apartment is for a Matt who's trying very hard to be done with Daredevil and live life only as Matt. He's locked away from the streets with no easy way to go running, he's situated high and cool and distant, with all those floors to slow him down if he gets impulsive.

Matt just disassociating his way through his breakfast and morning coffee, yup he's totally fine, definitely not trying to block out all those screams.

DISSECTION MOMENT: EXCUSE ME, CARRYING AROUND FOGGY'S MEMORIAL CARD. 😭 Personal theory is he's not just carrying it to have a little of Foggy with him, but because he's trying to remind himself why he's not being Daredevil anymore since he thinks that doing that got Foggy killed.

Queenpin, good for her.

Really liked the touch of Matt cooking in the dark because he doesn't need light. And I liked the addition of the neon lighting flashing in his windows, a good callout to his old apartment.

I'm also digging both Kirsten and Heather, esp Heather who we get more of. There's chemistry there, and she rolls with Matt pretty well. I'm very interested to see how she handles the Shenanigans TM that I'm sure he'll get up to later. I'd love if he could have a healthy canon relationship for once but this is also matt soooo. And that KISS, damn, when is it my turn

THE DINER SCENE WAS EVERYTHING I NEEDED, THESE TWO ARE SO FUCKING PERFECT IN EVERY SCENE YOU HAVE THEM IN TOGETHER, GD

DISSECTION MOMENT: No but I really do think this is something that would keep Matt out of Hell's Kitchen for a bit as he struggles with his identity, his trauma, his fear, and with the 'costs' of what he does. All that work and he feels like he failed. He couldn't save the one person that mattered most to him. On top of that? He crossed his line. He tried to kill someone and would have succeeded if Dex hadn't been built different. All of that trauma around what happened... yeah I could see him trying to hang the cowl up and move to a new neighborhood in hopes that he'd be able to escape. And he is trying to escape. He's pushing all that down, pushing and pushing and I'm Fine-ing like he has with every previous death in his life, holding up like a good Catholic boy, but the cracks are showing. He's a powder keg.

YET MORE DISSECTION: And holy fucking shit when he blows up does he go. That fight at the end of the 2nd Episode had me feral. Definition of FAFO. I know I've seen some mixed opinions on the opening fight, but that fight at the end of ep 2 is exactly what I wanted, that was perfect. Him begging them to stop because he's trying not to do this, trying not to fight, he's afraid of what he'll do if it gets out, but the second that blood droplet hit the floor (LOVED that shot), you knew that was it, ding ding, Round One. I loved how vicious that fight was, I need to rewatch it 10 TIMES.

That final scream. What's that Matt? You're saying you're not fine? You're not handling this well? Whoever could have predicted that you mashing all that grief and rage down would come out like that, not me it was me though i predicted that.

Intrigued by that Punisher tattoo the dirty cop had on him.

OH MY GOD SHE'S THEIR MARITAL COUNSELOR, GOOD FUCKING LUUUUUCK

Man, Karen just fucking skedaddled and I'm wondering if this isn't because she's going to spiral out in CA like she does in the comics so she comes back having also gone through it (I realize it was because, in reality, they had to explain why she wasn't there because otherwise they'd have to rewrite and reshoot everything, but we're talking in universe here). Karen also has a tendency to run, much like she tries to do in S3. We know she'll be back though.

MY THOUGHTS OVERALL:

So.

(puts hands together and breathes because this was a lot and I'm still processing both the return of our man after 6 years and the show events themselves)

So.

So.

I'm obviously gutted over Foggy, I'll be crying over that for a bit even if I still have a lil hope, and am willing to just fix it in fanfic otherwise. But... I liked this. A lot. It's not exactly the Netflix show, which I'll always be nostalgic for, but quite frankly it was never going to be that show - too much time has passed, and batons have changed hands in terms of writing, directing, cinematography, etc. I'm ok with this being a little different. I'm ok with there being some small humps to get over, cause god knows S2 had its issues too (I love you, OG DD, but it's true). I'm really really optimistic about this.

I do think you can also see some slight tonal shifts between stuff that was salvaged from the original writing arc, and what Scardapane has added in during reshoots. And those moments Scardapane's got control are the best, even if I think they've done pretty damn good during the rest of it considering all the shakeups during production. I'm going to be very interested to see what happens in S2 where you've got a singular creator with consistent control, and I'm very excited for the final two episodes of S1 which are both all under Scardapane's hand. The best part is Matt is still Matt. The dialogue, what he's trying to do, even him pulling a, "that part of my life is over" is very him. His resistance to becoming DD again (though as my dad snorted when we were watching and Matt told Fisk that part of his life was over, 'HA! Horseshit.' Cue dad's smug 'HA! Told you.' During the ep 2 fight) feels... like a natural progression, and Charlie's playing it well.

MY THOUGHTS ON MATT, PLEASE STAND BY FOR ULTIMATE DISSECTION.

Oh boy. Oh boy. As predicted, our man is going through it and you can see it (God bless you Charlie, you're as wonderful an actor as ever). He's convinced, of course, that he's doing ok. He's holding down a good job, he's got a new apartment, he's managing to ignore the screams at night even if he has to drown it out with music and live up so high to try to muffle it, he's not laying in bed like a lump, he's not going out to fight, whatever you do, don't go out there, if I go I'll slip again. But this isn't a man who's ok. This is a man who's terrified and wracked with guilt because not only did his life as Daredevil (in his mind) lead to his best friend's death, but he broke his rule. He made the kill move, gave into his grief and his rage, and it was only through luck that Dex lived. It would only eat at him more that it was over Foggy, one of the people who regularly encouraged Matt to hold back from taking that final step. Matt knows Foggy wouldn't have wanted that for Matt.

He was warned that one day he'd kill someone. And he tried to do it.

Giving up Daredevil is what Foggy would have wanted. I have no doubt he's telling himself that.

But you can only cut away part of yourself for so long before it finds a way out. Matt will never be able to resist going to help those who need it. He'll never be able to fully turn away, and he enjoys those fights.

That's where that scream comes from at the end of Ep 2. He has done everything he's supposed to. He's given it all up, he's moved, he's focused on the law only, and he even fucking begged them to leave him be. He let them beat him and beat him and beat him, and still he didn't raise a hand.

Not until that gun came out.

And he snapped.

Everything done right, and still he finds his way here again, with blood on his fists and his adrenaline up and, I'm sure, no small bit of guilty enjoyment over suddenly being back in a fight that he won.

Our man is not ok, and I think he's going to realize that going forward.

This IS our man. There's some frayed edges here - there usually are in pilots, in shows that had this many production issues. But there is so, so much good here too to build on and I'm eager to see where Charlie and them take it even if it winds up crushing my heart a bit more in the process.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. j.eli x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. while helping out your parents with the street food stand , you saw a street cat staring at the food at the board over you head so why not feed it when there are no customers? who doesn't like free food?

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.9k words .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff for you. angst for heather. f!reader. spoiler about eli's past ! safe for minors ! crappy writing. eli, heather, warren, sally may seem ooc. inspired by no. 1 party anthem from arctic monkeys !

　“OH god... How much I hate standing here doing nothing.”

A huff escaped your lips as you waited in the small stand of street food. You've been standing here all day, for hours! Only a few customer came here for a short while before leaving. And your legs are about to give out if you stand for another hour here. But helping out your parents isn't that bad, at least you get some pocket money bonus from standing here all day.

Are you that desperate for money? Well. Yes. You need it, so you took your mother's offer up because you killed two birds with one stone. Helping out your parents and get a bit more money than usual. It was a win-win for you. "Do I regret it though?" you muttered under your breath, pressing your hands against your face, once again complaining in your mind about all this.

The moment you heard a little rustle near you, your hand moved itself and you peeked through your fingers. Only to meet the eyes of a boy — not just any boy, an absolutely stunning one. Ah, you're sure you've seen him somewhere already. Doesn't he always walk pass this shop while staring at the food that was displayed on the boards over your head?The one your father chased away once?

"Hey you." you removed your hand to not appear weird, watching how he flinched at your rude coming tone.

"What are you looking at..." he paused, knitting his eyebrows in caution, "little bitch."

Huh. What did he just call you? Could he repeat? "Shut up and come here." you furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance, almost regretting what you're about to do. The black haired boy hesitated for a second, standing glued to his spot before slowly coming closer — like a cat slowly making it's way to a stranger who's offering headpats or food. He resembled a cat to be honest.

As soon as he stood infront of you, you took a good look at his clothing. It was kinda shabby and rancid, everywhere holes. He was in general need of new clothing. His stomach growled. Seems like he also was in need of food. And to his luck, you were alone here, already placing a bowl of tteokbokki and a bowl of ramen on the counter.

"Eat up, buddy. It's on the house 'cause it doesn't look like I'll get any customers around this time." you sighed, "and I want to go home as soon as possible."

He blinked. The boy didn't expect that. "You're lucky that I gave you a large amount even though you just called me a little bitch." you placed your elbow on top of the counter, bending down to lean your cheek against your palm. The boy didn't answer, taking the metal chopsticks into his hand. "Bon appetit." you eyes watched how he was literally gobbling the food down.

"Good, right?" you asked, handing him a cup of water as he choked a bit.

The black-haired guy accepted the water swiftly whil nodding his head up and down hastily, a sign that he enjoyed the food. It was nice to see someone liking the food your parents cooked with much love, trying their best to let the food taste delicious. That's why you'll never tolerate someone complaining about the food, you'll throw hands if they cross the line — one bad word and they already crossed the damn line.

"What's your name?" you asked as he literally shoved the bowls into your face for more.

"...Eli." he introduced himself, his eyes intently watching your every move. "And you..?"

"Little bitch." ah, you didn't forgive him yet.

"Sorry." he apologized, not daring to accept the bowls back as he looked at the counter in shame. "I thought I could look weak to you."

"[name]." you answered his question from before, placing the food on the counter. "If you don't eat it, it'll get cold and then it won't taste as good as now."

"Yes..." he was surprised by your actions, lifting his head with slightly widened eyes as heat rushed to his cheeks.

"It's getting cold, you know?"

"Y-Yes." he blinked, bashfully beginning to eat now. After all, he doesn't want it to get cold.

"Visit me everyday and you'll get tasty food for free, yeah?"

A little smile of amusement rose to your lips — it was a pleasing to his eyes like an exquisite painting in the most expensive museum. Only to look at, not for anyone to touch. And if you were the painting, he would probably be the bodyguard if he's lucky enough to even stand beside you that is.

It was an understatement when you said your parents were shocked. Their souls departed from their body for a second as you quickly tried to force them back to their owner. Only because you said you'd like to work more often — more often in everyday. And then you added that you didn't care if they raise the sum of your pocket money. You'd feel bad if you give food away for free and get extra money.

And then you began working in the little stand, immediately coming home after school to take over the stand, always yelling sorry to your friends who wanted to hang out after school. You were busy though, busy feeding a street cat. Your favorite street cat, you said. While you would always come home quickly to leave your bag at home, Eli already stands beside there. Waiting for you.

He came everyday at the same time. It's not like he has anywhere to go but this little food stand. And then his eyes would light up at the sight of you, his cheeks would turn rosy red sometimes. And then he would stay until it closes. And then he would accompany you home. But at the end it became routine. His routine and your routine.

On the way to your home, you would always teach him new things he missed out. Because you noticed that he lacked a lot of basic education and knowledge. How did you notice? When he started a fight with someone who wanted to ask for directions and your number. As if Eli sensed the bad intention the dude had. In your mind, he reminded you of a cat. But it wasn't a reason to beat the literal shit out of someone.

"Where is he?" you questioned under your breath. "Is he beating someone up?" a gasp.

For the first time, you're the one waiting for him. Wow you were bored out of your mind. And slightly worried that he might have picked a fight again. However you doubt it because he's been a little busy lately. There are times where he arrives late or times where he goes earlier and not take you home. There are also days where he is not coming at all. Of course you're worried.

Suddenly — as soon as you opened your eyes, the black-haired boy stood infront of you with a troubled expression on his face. You averted your eyes from him to a group of people standing behind him with a curious gleam in their eyes. "Eli, you brought your... friends?" you were kind of surprised to see other people surrounding him. Of course though, his looks would attract people.

"No, they followed me..." he said truthfully, glancing behind him. "Am I in trouble?"

"For what? No, you aren't in trouble. I was just surprised that you have so many friends." you shook your head and signed his friends to come closer.

"A-Ah..!" one of the girls spoke up, "I was just curious about the person Eli always speaks about, but then those two followed me even though I said them not to. W-We're not looking for trouble!"

"Cute." you chuckled as she tried to explain herself, "y'all hungry?"

"No..!—"

The stomach of those kids began to growl at the sight and smell of delicious food. "(It's) alright. We (don't) have money." the boy was the next one to speak up, only to get nudged by the girl. "Stop leaving out words, she'll misunderstand!" she said with furrowed eyebrows. Wow what a funny troup of people. You looked at the last girl curiously who clung to the rather more confident one.

"It's on the house by the way." you already placed several bowls on the counter.

"B-But we can't eat without the rest of the family!" the girl said, not ready yet to accept the food offering.

"You can have some to-go." you suggested with a smile, "now come on. It seems like Eli will eat without you."

They stared at their friend who was by now holding chop sticks in his hands. "The name's [name]." you introduced yourself and watched the three hesitating to eat. "Quick, quick before Eli gets to eat your portion." and at that, they moved to come forward. Wow so that sentence made them move their asses? "What's your name?"

"The one and only mighty Warren Chae." he folded his hands together before eating.

"I'm Sally."

"My name is Heather."

"Well, aren't you all a cute bunch?" you asked, "I honestly thought Eli wouldn't find any other friends beside me. That little rascal really surprised me."

"Eli is kind though and he's on the path to change for the better..!" Sally said, not appreciating the way you're talking about Eli.

"Of course." you chuckled. "Hope he isn't doing anything bad. After all, he promised."

"Well... We're currently working on it..." she sweatdropped.

"How old are you all?"

"Fifteen."

"Then I'm older than you by one year. Better start calling me noona."

"Noona!"

"It was a joke."

A little smile grew in Warren's lips as he saw Sally conversing with you, enjoying the sight of her eyes lighting up just because of you before returning to his food again. "You have it all over you. Let me help you..." Warren heard Heather's little giggle as she took a napkin to help Eli wiping away the sauce that he had all over his mouth. He blinked, watching how Eli nodded slowly with his head, his eyes concentrated at the sight infront of him.

"You're cute." you complimented Sally, leaning your cheek against your fist and watching how red she got.

"Obviously I am!" she swept the hair back serveral times.

"Mhm, of course." it was nice to see someone full of emotions, a stark contrast to your own nature. From the corner of the eye you could see someone staring and as your eyes averted from Sally, you met gazes with Eli who was already done with his food. "You want more?" you questioned, standing up straight again and ready to serve him another portion.

"Please..." Eli shyly nodded at your smile, sinking his head a bit. Yet his eyes never left your figure, attentively following your every move while also admiring you from the place he was standing, his cheeks slowly painted itself a rosy red. The others — girl beside him long forgotten as he was blessed by your comforting presence, bewitching smile and addicting laugh.

Heather's hand lowered itself as she watched how shy he got around you, a little frown visible on her face before she continued to eat her portion of food. Oh. She could always recognize those eyes. The look of love.

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — I'm not sure if I like heather chat cuz bro wdym she was freaky with eli one night even though he lacked BASIC EDUCATION. no shame guys, so idk if I like or dislike her... BTW DOUBLE UPDATE BEFORE I DISAPPEAR AGAIN!

[bberry005]

maces and talons symbolism post because i was originally gonna just post it as a reblog to the other post i made but it got WAY too long. but basically i've recently been going a little insane about how maces and talons is used as a way to symbolize hiccup's character arc from explorer to chief that's eventually fully realized in httyd 2 (and also 3 but i'm not gonna touch on httyd 3 for this one even though i think it does have some fascinating storytelling that just wasn't conveyed well. but that's a whole other post)

we're first introduced to maces and talons when viggo is introduced as the primary antagonist. maces and talons is, in its shortest form, a game used to test the skill of chiefs in battle. it's mentioned multiple times that this is the game's primary purpose, even if we see multiple instances of the riders playing it for fun. so right away we're somewhat subtlely told this game is going to be used to test hiccup's skill in battle and his abilities as chief.

maces and talons is above all else a strategy game, and as hiccup and viggo fight we see that they're playing real life maces and talons against each other for seasons 2-4. hiccup is the viking chief and viggo is the chief of the marauders. the dragon riders and dragon hunters are the viking pieces, and the dragons are surprise! the dragons. but we're also introduced to a special piece: the traitor, who viggo explicitly names as heather. she plays both sides, tries to figure out dragon hunter secrets to tell the riders, and in the end is nearly killed for it, hence the line "the traitor always dies in the end" (this isn't an exact quote this is just what i'm remembering)

this first game is our first indicator at exactly how high the stakes have risen and despite how smart hiccup is, it shows us how much smarter he needs to become to best viggo with his morals and ideals still intact. with just dagur as the antagonist previously, the stakes were high but they weren't as impossibly difficult as they were with viggo. viggo gets innocents caught in the crossfire (ex: STARVING BERK to get hiccup to do what he wants), he payrolls a gladiator style fighting ring, and we understand him as someone who will do anything do profit off the sale of dragons. it's a harsh introduction for both hiccup and the viewer that the world outside the archipelago is much rougher than it seems and that dragon's edge is much MUCH more than a research station and their outpost. it's a military base, and often times serves as the last defense for berk before enemies get too close. hiccup running dragon's edge is almost his "trial run" as chief, and his first maces and talons match with viggo is the first real test. he passes because he won that specific game. viggo is presumably dead. ryker is certainly dead. there's no more threats to the dragons or berk, and dragon's edge can once again be a research outpost.

but then krogan enters the picture, and the riders are on their back foot again. it's an incredibly rude awakening to the fact that if hiccup wants to be a protector of dragons, he needs to be hypervigilant. it's unfair and harsh, but hiccup's distraction is what led to the edge falling. yes, he's 19 and wants to spend time with astrid and have fun, but if he wants to run dragons edge like a true leader, he needs to operate under the assumption the maces and talons game is never over.

the fall of dragon's edge is hiccup's biggest failure to date, and it's the first one we're led to believe he can't come back from. even when he lost all of berk's gold, there was the assumption he'd get it back and that it wasn't entirely his fault. but when dragon's edge falls? the blame falls on entirely on hiccup, and i think it's amazing writing that snotlout is the one who calls him out on it. snotlout is hiccup's right hand (yes, even over astrid or fishlegs. i have a lot of thoughts on this that i'm not gonna get into right now), and we often see snotlout as the irresponsible one. but here he is, after having just led the rest of the dragon riders through the absolute hell that was krogan's takeover, forcing hiccup to confront the fact that being a leader isn't everything he originally thought. in this moment, hiccup reaches that turning point he didn't reach with all his other missteps. this mistake is what solidifies the reality that people rely on him for more than just training dragons and that distraction isn't acceptable. it's the first thing that forces him into leadership in ways he didn't really process before. the next time he plays maces and talons with the newly resurrected viggo, the stakes will be much higher and the implications even more severe.

the true players of the next game aren't revealed until season 6 episode 8: triple cross. this is the episode where viggo dies, and maces and talons comes fully back into the picture with this episode. there are hints that there's still some game going on, since viggo and krogan do have a conversation about the merits of maces and talons when they take dragon's edge in season 5, but we don't truly know what's going on until triple cross. in this episode, hiccup is positioned as the viking chief, viggo as a new piece known as the accomplice, and johan as the chief of the marauders. the accomplice is a piece similar to the traitor. it's a piece on the other side that actually belongs to the opposing player, and with viggo's death, we assume the accomplice also always dies at the end. this is also the first and only time in rtte where hiccup loses an ally (no matter how brief or reluctant) to death, which is notable in its own right. no one on hiccup's team has ever died in battle, and viggo's death is another thing that shocks the reality of the situation into hiccup.

when they part ways at the end of the episode, viggo gives hiccup the one missing piece on his maces and talons board. back on dragon's edge, hiccup places the piece on the board, knocks it over to represent viggo's final defeat, and closes the board before walking away from it. closing the maces and talons board represents the end of hiccup haddock, explorer and researcher of dragons. there's no more game, no more dragon's edge, no more living with his friends and finding new islands and having his "trial run" as chief. hiccup's game of maces and talons is over. he's proven himself, and now he's hiccup haddock, future chief of berk and legendary trainer of dragons. he walks away from the maces and talons board because his time for learning is over, and he even says it when he tells astrid that they learned a lot from viggo.

SO BASICALLY all of this is to say that race to the edge is set up as a giant maces and talons game that proves hiccup is ready to be chief. he's learned all the necessary leadership skills and proven himself in battle over and over again. he's cemented himself as a strong, capable, and strategic leader who is curious and loyal to a fault (as many fictional characters are), and at this point his reputation makes him seem larger than life to many (ex: astrid is literally able to use hiccup's reputation as the "dragon master" to bide time for her and the rest of the riders when they're captured by eret)

okay that's it for now. this is already so long but maybe i'll do more maces and talons posting later who knows

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

Can u write an enemies to lovers fic of Grayson X reader??? Plsss!!

thank you for your request and I apologise for the delay in writing it, my request list has been mountainous for a little while now and this particular fic actually also had lots of rewrites before the final piece. It began as an academic rivals sort of thing, then became family-feud but finally ended with whatever this is. I’m praying you enjoy this 🤍🤍

title: we’re just project partners

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: you’re partnered with the one person you hate to complete a project you love… but what if he’s not as bad as you thought

warnings: swearing, gray-bae is being a nasty little b-word (BUT ITS FOR THE PLOT OKAY)

a/n: I am alive!! It’s just taken me a week and a bit to post again, I’m writing three fics at once so this one just happened to be done first

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I roll my eyes, eyeing the names on the board.

It just has to be him doesn’t it.

“There must be a mistake,” Grayson says. I turn my head to look at him, for once we can agree on something.

“No there is no mistake,” the professor tusks, “class dismissed.”

Everyone gets up and begins to pack their stuff, chatting about the project and their partners and various other things. It sucks when you have no classes with your friends, but it sucks even more when you get partnered with your rival for a project.

I’m about to walk out of the classroom when I hear my name.

“Y/n l/n, come back a moment!”

I stop myself from rolling my eyes, I just want to go home. I spin around and sluggishly walk back to the teacher’s desk where she stands and beside her is the infamous arrogant prat Grayson Hawthorne.

“You have to change it,” Grayson snaps quickly, his voice so insistent, so sharp. I look up to see he’s gesturing to our names beside one another’s. Classic Hawthorne. Thinks he can command people to do whatever he pleases just because he feels entitled enough to do so.

“What you gonna do, bribe her if she says no?” I scoff, arms folded.

They both ignore me but my lip still quirk upwards, proud of the pathetic joke I’d made, even if I was the only one who found it funny.

“There will be no changes Mr Hawthorne,” our professor replies sincerely.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head so vigorously I have to bite back a laugh, “I can’t work with her.”

“Well you’re going to have to,” she says, “this is 30% of your grade for the year.”

His eyes widen and he almost looks panicked. Almost. Nevertheless it amuses me to see the stoic, ironclad blonde crack for mere seconds.

“Professor please,” he says so desperately he’s practically begging, which I’d always thought was too beneath him to do, “she’s impossible.”

“I’m impossible?” I raise my eyebrows.

He rolls his eyes and turns back to our teacher, “anyone but her. I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

“I’ve told you once and I will only repeat myself one more time, there will be no changes made,” she says too calmly, “I don’t see the problem, you are both excellent students with some of the highest marks I’ve seen in my time. You need to get past whatever this little tiff is and move on. Bounce off of each other, enlighten each other, create a show stopping presentation.”

Such a teacher answer to give. Played off to be inspirational, really just a nice way of saying get on with it or you fail.

“On the contrary Miss, I think Hawthorne here is the only one kicking up a fuss, I haven’t uttered a word,” I point out.

“That may be true but don’t you think I can see the vicious looks aimed at both him and me?” she asks, accusation in her tone.

So maybe the dirty looks weren’t as sly as I’d thought them to be. Still, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie through my teeth, sweetened smile to sugarcoat it further.

“Perhaps it should be discussed in a detention then, I’m free after school tomorrow,” she proposes, her smile even sweeter than mine.

“No, no, that isn’t necessary,” I say quickly, “I’m suddenly horribly aware of the looks I’ve been giving.”

I’m not the kind of girl who gets detentions, actually I’d never gotten one in my life and I didn’t intend to change that. My record was perfect, it was going to stay perfect. My professor, annoyingly, knew that a bit too well.

“Good, I suppose no detention then,” she says, “and what about you Mr Hawthorne, would you like to discuss your stubborn means to switch partners in a detention with me?”

“No thank you,” he grits through his teeth, his jaw nearly set in stone. I fight back a grin at his irritation.

“Challenges are good for the mind,” she smiles, “and I have a feeling you two will very much challenge one another. You once told me you liked a challenge, no?”

“I do,” Grayson nods slowly, then side glances at me, “but not of this kind.”

I think it was meant to be an insult towards me but it was so poor it didn’t even come close to mildly hurting me so I don’t bother to respond.

“Try something new, branch out a little,” our professor shrugs, “and who knows, you may even enjoy each other’s company.”

“That is very optimistic,” I scoff at the same time as Grayson says, “that will never happen.”

“Only time will tell,” she replies with a whimsical look in her eyes, “good luck.”

We exit the classroom in the coldest of silences. Any colder and we would’ve had an ice palace with an interesting rendition of ‘let it go’. I vote Grayson plays Elsa.

He actually barely spares me a glance, with his jaw all clenched and tightened. I wonder at one point if he’s breathing. He’s so tense, the feeling smothers the air around me, suffocating any sense of relaxation. I turn to leave the building.

“Where are we going?” he questions, too assertive for my liking.

“I’m going home,” I tell him bluntly.

He furrows his brows, “why?”

“To get changed,” I deadpan.

“Why?” he repeats. I try to read his emotions but they’re not clear enough to define. He’s accustomed to hiding them.

I stare at him, “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, we’ll meet here in 15 minutes,” he decides.

I don’t reply as I turn on my heels and walk away.

***

After getting changed and piecing together all of the things I might need to study, all my notes and books and highlighters and pens, I walked back over to our ‘meeting place’. As I approach Grayson is already stood there with a sour expression on his face. Of course he’s already there.

“You’re late,” he tells me, his voice so bitter I wonder how many lemons it would take to rival it.

“No I’m exactly on time,” I sneer, flicking my phone in his face.

“It’s been 15 minutes and 43 seconds, so technically you’re 43 seconds late,” he smirks. I almost feel sorry for him because I can see how proud he feels after saying this, sense the smugness burning in his chest.

“Did you count?” I try extremely hard to suppress my laughter.

“Of course not, I wouldn’t waste my breath on that,” he rolls his eyes, then pauses slightly, “… I set a timer.”

“Of course you did,” I purse my lips with a sigh.

His screws his face up, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you’re a weird person who would time someone going home to get changed,” I shrug, attempting to walk past him.

Talk about being late, when he was the one stood here chattering on about meaningless subjects. He ignores the comment and briskly stands in front of me to block me from walking any further.

“What are you wearing anyway?” he asks, looking down on me with great distaste with all but his eyes.

“Clothes,” I deadpan, staring down at my much loved and slightly over worn band tee-shirt.

“They’re awful,” he tells me bluntly.

“Was that meant to hurt me?” I raise an eyebrow. I mean sure, it hurt a little, but I didn’t actually care what he thought. Or I shouldn’t at least.

“You could’ve picked something a little nicer to wear in public,” he continues, so cut-throat and cold.

I look directly into his mellowed silver eyes and wonder how someone with such soft, inviting eyes could be so sharp and jagged with the words he uses.

“Worried I’ll ruin your street credit,” I tease, “sully your good name with my sports leggings and band t-shirt?”

“I’m just surprised at your lack of care for your appearance,” he replies, a slight discomfort worming its way through his features. It makes me smile a little.

“I just think I’m not as fixated on it as you, I mean what’s with your outfit, James Bond? Do you own anything that’s not a suit and tie,” I ask.

“Matter-o-factly I do,” he replies bluntly as if to end the conversation.

So of course I continue it, “so do you just stare at those clothes then, hanging in your walk in wardrobe.”

His eyes snap up and his stare is suddenly so piercing it hurts to hold eye contact, “how do you know I have a walk in wardrobe,” he practically spits, in a defensive tongue.

I snort, “that was a joke, but yeesh rich boy you’ve got it all.”

“Rich boy, how original,” Grayson comments.

“I’ve got more,” I shoot back with that smile I know makes his blood boil and skin singe.

“Spare me them,” he responds, “sweetheart.”

A forbidden fluttering occurs in the pit of my stomach, it’s as if eight hundred butterflies have decided to dance a jive there. Some feeling between guilt and shame settles in my chest. The word sweetheart shouldn’t make me feel anything, least of all from the mouth of Grayson Hawthorne.

But it was the way he said it, so softly, so smoothly, the word just rolled off of his tongue like he’d called me it for years. It almost sounded nice. The guilt weighs heavier on my chest and I snap out of it. I don’t feel anything. For anyone. Least of all him.

“Awww you’ve got a nickname for me too Goldilocks,” I reply with a laugh to bury the truth.

“Did you not hear the spare me part?” he tusks, beginning to walk.

I shake my head, walking a little faster than usual to keep up with his strides, “sorry I usually don’t listen when someone irrelevant talks.”

He scowls at me and I wink back.

“Did your face get stuck in a permanent scowl as a child or were you just born unhappy?” I cock my head to the side and narrow my eyes.

“Do you ever shut up?” Grayson asks flatly.

“My therapist told me not to hold back,” I shrug.

“Doesn’t that explain a lot,” he says dryly, shooting me a look that makes me feel inferior. I go to bite my tongue, but ask myself when I’m trying to hold back. I don’t owe him anything.

I stare at him, “don’t look so disgusted blondie, just because you’re too up yourself to admit you need help doesn’t mean all of us are.”

“I don’t need help,” Grayson replies, each word candid and dull.

Something in me almost feels sorry for him. Did he really think he didn’t need help? Did he really feel that alone and isolated? I wanted, in that moment, to reach out and be there for him. Then I remember who he is.

“Whatever you say,” I sigh.

“We’re working at my house,” he responds abruptly, as we get to the end of the street.

I fold my arms and raise my eyebrows, “says who?”

“Me,” he shrugs.

“And who are you to tell me where I’m working?” I ask.

“I’m your partner and I’m making a decision,” he presses on, stubbornly. Little does he know, I’m twice as stubborn and I’m not going to back down.

“I don’t think you really understand how this whole project thing works,” I say.

“I’ve done plenty of projects and I can very much assure you, I understand what I’m doing,” he grumbles back, clearly annoyed that he isn’t getting his way this time. Someone has to teach him I suppose.

“Oh great,” I smile sickeningly sweetly, “then we’re not working at yours.”

“Why on earth not?” he screws up his face as if I’ve just told him I want to skin a cat alive.

“I don’t want to,” I reply simply.

“Well I do,” he argues back.

“That’s a shame,” I shrug softly, leaving him with no option.

He shakes his head and runs a hand through his perfect hair, “you are insufferable.”

“That the worst you got Hawthorne?” I giggle a little, turning left to walk down the pathway.

“And impossible,” he says, following me.

“Oh you wound me,” I say hyperbolically, putting I hand in my head and feigning a dizzy spell.

Grayson rolls his eyes, he’s done it so many times now I’m worried they might get stick here soon, “can we just work?”

“Where?” I shoot him a lopsided grin.

He sighs, most likely suppressing some very colourful language, “why don’t you decide seen as my ideas oppose you.”

“Much like your entire personality,” I let him know.

“My personality is fine,” he replies, probably trying to soothe his rapidly declining pride under that suit of his.

“Mhmmm,” I nod sarcastically, “and I have a unicorn that shits cupcakes called Craig.”

“Really?” he wrinkles his nose, “profanities?”

“Oh no is it too beneath the great Grayson Hawthorne to say fuck every now and then,” I laugh.

He tenses and mutters something under his breath. I don’t quite hear the words but you can see he’s fuming. It ignites something in me, a spark. I like seeing him furious. I really like it.

“Where do you want to work?” he asks me, grey eyes a little too distracting for my liking.

“The library,” I tell him, my answer almost immediate.

He tries to mask his horror but fails miserably, “in public?”

“You’re not going to get cholera,” I snort.

“Can’t we just work somewhere nicer,” he complains.

“The library is nice,” I tell him, “and they have a coffee stand outside and I want coffee so that’s where we’re going.”

“And you call me demanding,” he mutters underneath us breath.

***

We walk to the library bickering about how fast he walks and how slow I apparently walk. In my personal opinion I think he was walking fast on purpose, he obviously disagreed.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” I ask him, it now only just dawning on me that he was leading the way yet he didn’t know where the library was.

“I’m not an idiot,” Grayson spits back, nose in the air, posture upright and powerful.

He always carries himself like that as if he’s saviour of the world and we should all bow down to kiss his presumably pedicured feet.

“Are you sure?” I tease him.

“Certain,” he snaps regimentally.

“We’re here,” I say halting conversation to walk up to the coffee stand.

“I knew that,” he mumbled.

He glances at the cart, looking it up and down like it needs to be judged and inspected to his high standards.

“What is this?” he interrogates me.

“It’s called a coffee cart in english but in rich boy it might be called something else, I haven’t studied the language yet,” I respond coolly.

“Is this even safe to drink?” Grayson says, some variant of worry wavering in his tone.

“It’s coffee,” I deadpan, “not raw chicken.”

He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“I like it and I’m getting some,” I tell him bluntly, “you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“No,” he checks his watch, “I need a coffee, this’ll have to do.”

I don’t bother wasting my breath to respond but make a mental note that maybe the Hawthorne wasn’t so different from me, addicted to coffee.

“Hey Jack,” I wave, walking closer to the cart.

I’d known Jack for a good eight years of my life, he was my rock. The smile in endless clouds of grey, the light at the end of the tunnel and of course, most importantly, the coffee provider to my caffeine deprived being.

“Bonsoir sunshine what can I get you,” he grins his usual grin at me, the witty mischief-ridden grin is known since I was nine years old. His eyes slide over Grayson judgementally though when he realises I’m watching him he immediately flicks back to his job.

“The usual of course,” he makes sure.

“You come here often?” Grayson raises an eyebrow, interrupting my answer.

“Just every day,” Jack says, before I can get a word out. I shoot him a look.

Grayson looks at me, “every day?”

“I really like coffee,” I explain with an exaggerated hand gesture.

“Coffee is bad for your health,” he responds almost immediately.

I suppress the hundreds of colourful words exploding in my mind settling for a more well-mannered reply, “well it’s good for my mental stability.”

“She’s addicted now,” Jack adds, “she’ll get withdrawal symptoms without it.”

“Shaking, sweating, you name it, I get it,” I continue.

“That sounds like a serious health condition,” Grayson says, his eyebrows pinching together. It was so soft I could’ve mistakened the expression for concern. But of course, why would he be concerned for me. I must’ve been reading it wrong.

“Hence me buying this coffee,” I tell him.

“Blueberry muffin, on the house,” Jack offers me, as if he didn’t every Friday.

We had a deal, I was allowed to take a free blueberry muffin that came out of his earnings if he kept up to date with his school work. Jack had always had a problem with handing things in on time and concentrating and school wasn’t his strong point. He hated going and was so close to dropping out too many times. That was until I made him stay. I talked him into it and he promises me he doesn’t regret it. It seems this week, he’s turned in all assignments on time.

I smiled, “you mean on the cart?”

“Sure whatever,” he brushes it off, “anything else?”

His eyes dare to skim over Grayson again though he is quick to come back and meet my gaze, his cheeks flush like he’s a child who’s done something wrong.

I turn to Grayson, “what do you want?”

“I’ll pay for myself,” he says shortly, looking slightly offended at my question.

I screw up my nose at him, “I wasn’t going to offer to pay for you asshole.”

“Play nice, sunshine,” Jack teases.

I glare at him and his smile quickly fades.

“You can’t play nice with that,” I glower.

He shoots me a look, the turns to Grayson, “what can I get you sir?”

“It’s not the evening,” Grayson replies.

Jack’s eyes are lost in a blanket of confusion, “sorry?”

“It’s not the evening it’s the afternoon,” he clarifies, as if it made the meaning of his sentence any clearer.

“You’ve lost me sir,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows.

“You said bonsoir but it isn’t the evening,” he chastises, “it’s afternoon and therefore you should’ve said bon après-midi.”

Jack turns to me, bewildered, “is he on drugs?”

“Probably,” I shrug. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rich kid had private access to that sort of stuff, he probably had the lawyers to cover it up as well.

“Are you…” Jack hesitates, “…you know?”

He makes an odd gesture with two fingers as I confuse to stare at him blankly.

“No I don’t know,” I reply.

“Are you with him,” he asks, “romantically.”

I almost choke on my own spit as I bark out a laugh, “oh god no.”

For a fraction of a second a look of relief passes over Jack’s features. Something uninvited tugs at my insides but I quickly ignore it.

“You’d be lucky,” Grayson scoffs.

“Oh he fancies himself,” Jack grins, clearly amused.

“Yeah it’s an ego thing, his is massive,” I explain.

“No it’s not,” the blonde insists.

“In denial as well,” Jack smirks, folding his arms.

“Always,” I say, then turn to Grayson, “now what do you want to drink because if you don’t tell him now I’m taking mine and ditching you.”

“Black coffee, no cream, no sugar,” the answer was instant, rehearsed.

“Ooo you made a hardcore friend,” Jack snickers, I want to slap him.

“We are not friends,” I make clear.

“Yeesh okay,” he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hands up as if he’d been convicted of a crime.

“And let’s be realistic here, rich boy probably has a massive sweet tooth and is too embarrassed to let people know,” I say with a sly smirk.

“Oh one hundred percent!” Jack nods, handing me my cup and muffin.

“I do not,” Grayson mutters, but loudly enough for us both to hear.

“That’s confirmed then,” Jack winks at me.

I giggle as he hands Grayson his drink. We exchange payment and then comes the dreaded point where I actually have to leave to get work done. Usually coming to the library for me was getting to see Jack and getting my coffee, not the actual going to library part.

“See you tomorrow,” I smiled sadly.

“Hopefully without thunder face here,” Jack says.

“I can hear you,” Grayson says curtly, before taking a sip of his coffee.

“I know,” Jack shrugs.

“I hope so too,” I reply to his previous comment, “bye!”

“Bye,” he salutes me as I turn around and begin to walk.

I’m aware that Grayson is by my side but neither of us speak. The only sounds come from our surroundings and the alternating elongated sips of coffee were taking to avoid talking. I practically inhale my muffin, after skipping lunch as school had booked my time table that way.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” Grayson says suddenly with a sour expression on his face.

“The way he looked at me was none of your business,” I reply sharply, indicating for him to drop the subject unless me wanted a fight.

“Well I didn’t like it,” he continued. Fine, he wants a fight.

“I don’t really care,” I shrug, “he’s Jack, he’s been a friend since freaking kindergarten, he’s got no dishonourable intentions.”

A slight exaggerated lie on my part, but I wasn’t ashamed. It feels like I’ve known Jack that long anyway, the technicalities don’t matter.

“You don’t know that,” he states.

“I know that better than anyone now back off okay?” I snap, “or you and I will have a real problem.”

He laughs, “you’re almost adorable when you’re angry.”

“Adorable?” I say, fantasising spitting in his face after that comment.

“Almost,” he corrects me.

“I can throw a good hard punch and I’m not afraid to,” I warn him.

“Oh I’m sure you’re not,” he says, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips, “I can see as much in your eyes.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, raising my voice a little.

He stays quiet and averts his eyes, deciding to ignore me a continue walking.

“Oh ignore the question, real mature,” I roll my eyes, “so glad I’m having a proper adult conversation.”

Silence hits again, like a sonic boom of nothingness. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s as if I don’t exist, as if in the last three seconds I’ve become an irrelevant invisible being.

I stop Grayson in his tracks and force him to meet my eyes, “stay away from Jack,” I practically growl, “or I’ll fail this assignment on purpose.”

“We both know you wouldn’t damage your perfectionist reputation for petty revenge,” he murmurs, our faces only inches away from one another’s.

“I have a talent for getting myself out of things,” I cock my head to the side in an art of competition, my cheeks flushing at the realisation that I could feel his warm breath on my face.

“How funny,” he counters, “me too.”

His eyes are narrowed to challenge me. Okay Hawthorne, game on.

***

We’ve been researching for an hour with no further conversation. Since our previous altercation neither one of us had so much as looked up from our laptops. The only reason I knew he was still sat opposite me was the sound of his keyboard typing. I get out my textbook and begin to highlight the lines I need to use

“Why are you using six different highlighters?”

The first thing he says to me in an hour is that? I don’t bother looking up.

“Why do you care?” I ask, my eyes flicking over to my work, my hands continuing to highlight information.

“It’s annoying me,” he shrugs.

“Okay,” I reply slowly, “it sounds like more of a you problem to me.”

I look up. Grayson is staring right at me, his steel eyes cold looking on my face. He opens his mouth to reply but my surprise gets there first.

“You wear glasses?” I gape.

“Seen as I’ve had them on for the last hour that would make sense,” he teases.

“I never see you wear them at school,” I explain.

“That’s because I don’t,” he pauses, “why were you looking at me in school?”

“It was just generally, like I’d waste my time looking at you,” I roll my eyes.

Then catch his for a moment. My head tilts to the side. Something feels off about him. He looks warmer, softer, calmer.

“What?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

“You look weird,” I blurt out before my brain can filter it.

“How lovely of you to say,” he replies dryly.

“You don’t look like you,” I say, “you look more…”

Human. That’s what I want to say but I trail off instead.

“More what?” he prompts.

“It doesn’t matter,” I shake my head, getting back to my book. I can feel his eyes on me.

He stares me down quizzically, like he’s trying to work me out, “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Highlight my textbook in peace? Yeah,” I scoff, “but that’s not really happening anymore.”

“You’re trying to get under my skin,” he seethes.

“By highlighting my book?” I raise my eyebrows.

“In six different colours,” he reminds me, as if I don’t already know.

I sigh, “I dare say that coffee made you even more of a bitch.”

He rolls his eyes, “you really feel the need to use those words?”

“No but I feel the need to punch you,” I retort.

“Well I’m right here, why don’t you?” he challenges.

“Because I have a level of self control,” I shrug gently.

“Are you quite sure?” he asks me.

He doesn’t realise I’m not the kind of girl to question myself just because a man did first. I’m not that kind of girl at all.

“Are you quite finished?” I reply, just a smoothly to mirror him.

“No.”

Our eyes linger on each others and it feels like we share a million unspoken conversation through the patterns of our irises. I’m fixated on him like I’ve been fixated on no other before. It’s not me but that doesn’t make me pull away. His gaze becomes more concentrated, harder to ignore without unwelcome feelings arising so I look back down to my highlighters and pick up for where I left off, except now I had a thumping heart in my chest.

I slide a sweaty palm on my trousers keeping it hidden under the table. I finish up my highlighting and then begin type up the final few notes I have to get done. After that, it’s over. I get to leave, I get my freedom, I get to breathe.

“I’m finished,” he announces when I’m mid sentence. Why is his tone always so articulated, so definitive?

“Okay I’m nearly there,” I say, frantically typing the last of my notes.

“Bit slow,” he comments.

I roll my eyes with no energy to reply. He’s done me in today. I’m exhausted at the thought of more bickering. With a few more clicks of my keyboard I complete all that I wanted to.

“I’m done,” I exhale, “just send me your work so I can proofread and check the facts.”

“You doubt my skill?” he raises an eyebrow.

I shrug, “I don’t know you well enough to trust it.”

“Then send me yours,” he purses his lips, “and I’ll do the same.”

“Okay then,” I say, sending him over my copy slowly.

He opens it and begins to read as I open his. My eyes are just in the middle of the second paragraph when there’s an untimely interrupted.

“It’s a waste of time,” he says suddenly, irritation thick in his tone.

“Not if I find mistakes,” I sing song, not taking my eyes off of his page, knowing full well I’d have to reread this sentence and other four times.

“You won’t,” he snaps.

“Oh take it out!” I exclaim finally, growing too exasperated to keep my feelings at bay.

He grows suddenly extremely confused, providing a perfect answer, “what?”

“The stick, wedged up your backside!” I whisper-yell, exasperated, “just yank it out already.”

“Excuse me!” he widens his eyes, looking highly disgusted.

“You’re rigid as a board, you never smile, your muscles are literally tensed, chill out a little,” I breathe, “I literally just want to check over the notes, why is it nearly world war three?”

“Your imagination is quite something,” he comments, practically ignoring all that I’d just said.

“So is your expressionless face,” I answer with a small shrug.

Grayson’s lips twist into a smile, “you think my face is quite something?”

“Don’t flatter yourself Hawthorne,” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

“I’ll try not to,” he replies.

“It must be hard for you,” I tease.

“Not as hard it is for you to admit you like my face,” he continues to smirk, annoying twinging through me with each curve of his mouth.

“If liking it means I want to spit in it, then yeah I really like your face,” I reply.

He leans over the table, getting closer, “you’re revolting.”

“Get the dictionary out for the next adjective,” I taunt him, “there’s one behind you.”

He doesn’t respond and I take that as my win. His eyes just become fixated on my notes all of a sudden. My stomach dances a little. I feel nervous, why do I feel nervous? It’s just Grayson, reading my notes… but my leg is bouncing up and down and I’m holding my breath without realising it. The clock has never ticked so loudly.

I focus on his notes and unfortunately realise he’s right. There are no mistakes. How annoying. I wanted to make him feel stupid for being so arrogant but he had a right to be. His work was practically perfect. Of course there are things I would’ve written differently but it didn’t taken away from the fact that his work was masterful.

“There’s a mistake,” he says suddenly.

Damn it.

“What?” I ask.

“In your work,” he smiles, almost proudly.

“Okay?” I say, “that’s why we proof things, hence proving my earlier point of the important of proofreading.”

“You got the date wrong,” he explains.

“Which one?” I furrow my brows, dates were the first thing I checked usually. It wasn’t like me to make mistakes on them unless I was distracted.

“1922 should be 1923,” he counters, showing me on his screen.

“Must’ve been a typo,” I shrug.

“Or poor research,” he replied smugly.

“Well I’ve written down 1923,” I tap my pen on my paper notes, “so it must have been a typo,”

“Well you should proofread more carefully then?” he says.

“Maybe I should’ve,” I nod.

He’s got nothing left to say. He can’t argue with me if I’ve agreed with him. Silence hit us like the dead. You could cut the tension with a knife.

“Just correct it,” I finally breathe.

“I will,” he says, tapping at the keys.

“Done?” I ask once he’s finished.

“Done,” he consolidates.

“Great so now we can leave,” I say, standing up, a little too eager to get out.

“Not yet,” Grayson tells me, his words slow and staccato.

“What is this? Some sort of damnation? I want to go home,” I exclaim.

“Well we need to seal our work with our fingerprints,” he explains.

I stare at him blankly, it feels like he’s just said something to me in a strange foreign language, “what?”

“Put fingerprint recognition onto the data base so only we can open our work,” he clarifies, as if it makes it any easier for me to understand.

“Why?” I ask cluelessly.

“So no one can hack into it,” he replies.

“Why do you say it likes it’s obvious?” I say.

“Because it is obvious,” he shrugs.

“Only you would have a fingerprint recognition for school assignments,” I roll my eyes.

“Well I want them secure,” he says.

“Clearly,” I snort.

He opens his mouth to reply but I interrupt him before he can get there.

“Let’s just get this over with, I want to go home tonight,” I sigh.

“Fine,” he says, “you just have to tap here.”

I place my finger where he directed it but it didn’t work. Huffing, I jab my finger at the screen a few times harshly. I’m surprised I don’t break the screen.

“I said tap, not murder,” Grayson says.

“I’m imagining it’s your face,” I growl back, still tapping relentlessly at the uncooperative piece of technology.

“It’s cute you think you’d even get close to touching my face,” he replies cooly.

I smack his forehead sharply. His reflexes aren’t fast enough to register it until the act is done. He sits there, stunned and blinking.

“Still cute?” I ask, batting my eyelashes.

“Adorable,” he growls, a sarcastic venom dripping from every letter.

I groan, as the fingerprint fails me again, “it’s not working.”

“You’re doing it wrong,” he tusks.

“Come on then genius,” I roll my eyes, “show me how it’s done.”

I’m surprised when he takes my hand gently and guides it to the screen. That familiar jolt in my stomach returns. He’s so delicate with me, as if I’m worthy of being treated fragile. He applies light pressure to the tip of my thumb so the fingerprint recognition goes through, his eyes fixated on the screen. Mine are on him.

“There, that’s how it’s done,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts. The screen lit up green.

He let go of my hand and a wave of shame rolls over me because I’m disappointed he let go.

“Good then,” I nod, mentally telling myself to stop thinking such nonsense, “I need to get home.”

“It’s 6pm,” he deadpans.

“And I need to get home,” I repeat, remembering what an aggravating human being he could be. It washed away any tentative hand touch in an instant.

“But the assignment-“

“We have three weeks,” I say, “don’t get your kickers in a twist Barbie 2.0.”

“The names keep getting better,” he grits through his teeth.

“Well practice makes perfect,” I tease, enjoying myself a little too much

“Doesn’t it just,” he smiles sarcastically.

I sigh shaking my head, “why did she have to pair me with you?”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining, you got the better end of the bargain,” he says with a laboured laugh.

I pause and stare at him, “how?”

“You were partnered with me,” he states, “I’m coherent, cohesive, co-“

“Too many co words Mr,” I cut in.

“But I got you,” he says.

“You say it as if I’m a piece of shit on your shoe,” I practically spit at him. I hate the way me makes me feel inferior.

“Well you’re not exactly pleasant to be around,” Grayson defends, leaning back in his chair.

“Ditto.”

“You’re annoying, irritating-“

“They’re literally synonyms of each other,” I yell over him, earning myself a stern look from the librarian.

“I mean you’re clearly very argumentative,” he says, gesturing his hands as if I were proving his point, “but I wouldn’t put it past you, after all I’m presuming your background didn’t give you lessons in etiquette.”

I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. I knew he was nasty but I didn’t know he could be cruel.

“My background?” I question him. I know what he means, I just want to see if he’s brave enough this stick his neck out and explain it

“You’re a scholarship student,” he shrugs.

“How do you know that,” I ask quickly.

No one is meant to know that. The headmaster assured me no one could possibly find out and yet Grayson Hawthorne knew. How funny. He only shrugs in response, he wasn’t going to let up that information. He could see it meant something to me.

“I know you think you’re king of the world and all that but it wouldn’t kill you to take your head out of your ass every once in a while and breath some fresh air,” I raise my voice a little, wildly furious.

“Must you be so creative with your insults,”he asks dryly

“Must you be so blatantly rude with yours,” I shoot back.

“So it’s not true?” he replies.

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” I snap fiercely.

He raises his eyebrows, “sorry, did I hit a nerve?”

“You hit nothing,” I mutter.

He smiles to himself, he knows he hit something.

“I’ll be leaving now then, see you later,” I say, the annoyance too thick in my tone for me to hide. I stand up and grab my bag.

“Wait!” he calls.

I spin around, “what?”

“I need your number,” he says slowly.

“You don’t need to sound so desperate,” I smirk.

“I need it to text you the times to meet up and work on the assignment,” he clarifies with an infamous eye roll.

“You don’t need to use that as an excuse blondie,“ I say.

“How can someone some on so intelligent be so utterly exasperating,” Grayson groans.

My cheeks heat up. He thinks I’m intelligent. He values my mind.

“It’s a talent,” I grinned back.

He rolls his eyes as I write down my number and hand it to him.

“There.”

“Thank you,” he nods at me.

“Wow,” my eye widen in shock, “you can be civil!”

“Every once in a while,” he shrugs delicately.

I almost smile but suppress it. Quickly I stack all of the books I’d borrowed to out them away on my way out. Though as I go to carry the pile his voice stops me.

“You’re never going to able to carry all of those books,” he says.

“You don’t need to underestimate me Hawthorne, you’ve done that too much today,” I tell him.

“Watch me defy your so called fact then,” I retort, lifting all eight volumes on top of one another into my arms.

“I’m not underestimating you,” Grayson replies, “I’m stating a fact.”

It’s heavier than I’d estimated which is the first shock. They sit unstably, wobbling and threatening to come cluttering to the floor. But he could not be right. I wouldn’t buckle. I wouldn’t drop anything. I’m not a failure.

“Need some help there?” he tilts his head to the side.

“No,” I say, my strained voice giving me away.

“You look like you’re struggling,” he comments.

“Well I’m not,” I reply, feeling that my face is rosy from sheer effort.

He looks at me, “are you sure?”

“Very,” I grunt, my arms burning with the weight.

“I’ll save you the stubborn act and the library damage fee and take some,” he rolls his eyes.

“I said I’m fine-“

He takes a large sum of books from the top. My arms relax slightly as I glare at him.

“If you drop them you’ll like an idiot,” he explains.

“I wouldn’t have dropped them,” I state.

“Okay, whatever you say,” he replies.

“Don’t use my saying on me,” I say.

“It’s not yours,” he shrugs, “you didn’t create it.”

“I used it earlier, that’s close enough,” I tell him.

“Sure.”

We come to an abrupt halt in conversation and both turn back to back to put the books back to their respected areas. I see one in my pile that has a page marked. I flick to it and pause to skim over the contents.

“What are you reading?”

He almost makes me jump, I didn’t hear him sneak up behind me.

“An article,” I say, tying to keep my voice from trembling after the shock.

I can feel him now breathing down my neck, his chest almost touches my back. My pulse races, skyrocketing a little too far.

“Who’s it by?“ he asks.

My eyes flick to the bottom of the page where I read aloud my response, “am anonymous writer.”

He scrunches his nose up, “what good an article with an anonymous author?”

“It’s not about who wrote it, it’s about the impact it has,” I say.

“I disagree, if I wrote a life changing article I’d want people to know I’d written it,” he replies.

“Of course you want more,” I scoff, stacking the books a little too aggressively.

Classic Hawthorne. The second I think he might not be so bad he goes ahead and reminds me of exactly why I hate people like him.

“Want more?” he furrows his brows.

“You want the glory of it, your name talked about, your legacy preserved,” I snap.

“So I can’t want anything?” he shoots back with venom on his tongue.

“You’re a rich, stuck up prick, like all the rest of them at that school,” I laugh bitterly, “your grandfather is a billionaire, what could you possibly want that isn’t already at your fingertips?”

“You don’t have the right to judge me on what you think you know about my life,” he quotes me.

“Bite me Hawthorne,” I snarl, spinning around.

He catches my wrist and the corners of his mouth lift to form a smirk. A twinge of hatred shifts in my stomach as I glare at him.

“Any other requests?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t play that game with me,” I say, my voice low and dangerous.

“And what game might that be?” he asks, our faces inching closer by the second. The butterflies madly gnawing on my internal organs.

“You know what you’re doing,” I mutter, as my fingers clasp around his wrist too.

His smiles broadens and his silver eyes ignite, “and what is it that I am doing?”

“Stop,” I snap at him. We’re so close now that our foreheads could touch with the slightest of movements.

“Stop what?” he questions me, his voice so hushed it send a shiver down my spine.

“I’m going to strangle you,” I growl, the sound coming from the back of my throat. An uninvited passion rippling through my tone.

“I’d like to see you try,” he murmurs, snaking a hand around my waist. A soft gasp escapes my lips at the warmth and tenderness of his touch. He holds me like I’m breakable. It makes me vulnerable and I hate it yet I don’t tell him to stop. I come to horrible realisation that maybe I don’t want him to.

“I swear to god Hawthorne-“

“Shhhhh,” he says, eyes pinned to mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly. All the oxygen previously in my lungs had been sucked out mercilessly by his tentative being.

“Just shut up for one second,” he snaps.

Fury lights inside of me and the spark of rage burns brighter than ever, “don’t tell me to shut-“

“Shhhhh,” he murmurs, placing a gentle finger to my lips.

My mouth obeys without my brain’s consent and my voice ceases. It’s just him and I and the silence around us. My heart thumps in my chest, so loudly it rattles through my ears. Slowly, almost cautiously, my own hands slide up his back as if some other world force is tugging them that way. I know I don’t want to do this but a familiar aching for deprived feeling was forcing me to.

“What are we doing Grayson?” I say, the words barely heard.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, “all I know is, you drive me insane.”

“Funny,” I smile softly, “you drive me insane too.”

His pupils dilate as we get closer. An entrancing monochrome kaleidoscope, only black and grey. Our foreheads meet, pressing into one another. It feels so natural, so right. His hands tighten slightly around the small of my back, as my eyelash graze his cheek, tickling him lightly. I can feel his breath on my face and his heart beating against my own. Our lips go to meet and-

“We’re closing the library now.”

I jerk backwards to suddenly my back smacks into the shelves of books behind me. Pain surges through my spinal cord and I bite my lip to keep me from crying out. My eyes become glossy as previously stacked books thump to the floor. I look up to see the librarian standing there.

I cough, picking up the books, “thanks, we were just leaving.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t say another word. I feel my cheeks burn a feverish red. I don’t meet Grayson’s eyes as I spin on my heels and charge out.

thanks for reading my loves 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[chvoswxtch]

I wrote all this in my notes app while I was watching the finale so this is basically me coming to you live from my couch while freaking the fuck out but if you know me you know chaotic rambling is what I do best

matt saying karen’s name when he woke up in the hospital was just like alex saying izzy’s name and that was all the confirmation I needed that whatever they had going on ended right then and there and it was never real to begin with

also how are you gonna leave your man that just got shot in the hospital?? notice how kirsten didn’t 👀

fisk not giving a single fuck that matt saved him and trying to kill him anyway is COLD

“a dead hero is better than a live vigilante” I see the season 3 writers are in the fucking building

also what is it with fisk and trying to poison people in hospitals?? sorry buck but you’ll never be westley that diva was one of a kind

frank showing up at matt’s apartment bitching about there not being any coffee is so special to me you don’t understand

“nightgown man” “blind boy” I don't think frank has ever called matt by his actual name it's always red or a bitchy insult and I love that for them

“aftershave and a haircut? that all for me?” / “yeah I did it for you” AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT ???

“you’re not gonna do it with your ass out?” frank out here asking the real questions. I wish he would’ve. like charlie has no problem with nudity we couldn't get one quick ass shot as a treat for all our pain and suffering??

also frank looking at matt’s bare ass while saying that makes it even fucking funnier (alexa play that should be me)

I knew as soon as frank said he got a call it was karen and when she showed up I fucking SCREAMED MY BABY IS BACK

frank redecorating matt’s whole apartment with blood and brain matter was wild and his feral yelling throughout the whole sequence had my basement flooding if ya know what I mean

they might as well have jumped off that roof holding hands and GOD I missed their bickering I want a whole season just of that

karen literally pulled up like a disappointed mother that had to come pick up her two dumbass sons that got suspended for fighting I was dying laughing

GODDAMNIT JUST LET THEM FUCKING KISS ITS BEEN A DECADE I CANT HANDLE THE YEARNING MY HEART CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE FOR FUCKS SAKE

matt being a jealous bitch boy pls you had your shot

"you couldn't call me?" uh I don't know matthew, maybe bc there's three seasons of evidence of you not answering the fucking phone when karen calls??? you know who does answer the phone?? FRANK

also you literally heard both of their heartbeats you know they’re in love get a grip you have bigger problems right now and your ass needs to stay single until you get medicated

“avocados at law” just fucking shoot me in kneecap it would hurt less

THE FUCKING SKULL SHOWING UP IN THE DARKNESS?? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

frank ripping through the task force and calling them fucking clowns is so *chefs kiss* 5 stars, no notes, all the awards

they were literally like omg we’re your biggest fans and he was like bitch fuck you

“you think you know my pain? you think you know my loss?” y’all didn’t have to do that how much emotional trauma can you fit in one episode was it a fucking game

that whole scene with frank and the task force reminded me a lot of the scene with billy and rawlins from s1 of the punisher and when I tell you I need frank to take powell out in a way that would make fisk clutch his pearls i’m not exaggerating

speaking of, I think fisk popping gallo’s head takes the cake for his most brutal kill over the head decapitation from s1 with the car door like my jaw DROPPED (not bc of the scene itself, but bc they actually allowed that) like that was some terrifier shit and i’m here for it spectacular gimme 14 more of em right now

heather girl I wanted to like you but you can kiss my ass and kick rocks bye

kirsten baby i’m still rooting for you go get your man (pls for the love of god make him go to therapy first)

bb honey pls be careful you’re doing amazing

that whole scene of matt talking about losing his sight with karen and then his ending monologue oh my GOD we are so fucking back (but seriously stab me it would hurt less)

now i’m wondering does josie now know about matt??? like does she know he’s daredevil???? or did karen show up with him like this is my friend daredevil and josie was like yeah he helped fuck up my bar but I guess he can stay he’s gotta pay for his drinks though repairs ain’t cheap

matt telling karen he’s glad she’s back was speaking for all of us welcome home karen the kids missed you

i’m sorry but if you keep francis david castiglione alive knowing that man runs on black coffee and blood thirty vengeance you’re a fucking dipshit what did y’all think was gonna happen

“you know about me?” frank LAUGHING is so real bc you know who this man is and what he did and yet you think he wants to shake your hand and be friends?? anthony from jersey you dumb whore

“we need an army” BITCHHHHHHH LETS FUCKING GO BABY

it’s the defenders. i’m calling it. the defenders are getting back together and they’re gonna be main ones leading the fight against fisk

the shot of matt as daredevil through the door of josie’s fucking CINEMA

are we gonna talk about how daniel's suspenders look suspiciously familiar to muse's??? I really thought bastian was a red herring for muse, bc there was an ep where there was a shot of muse's eyes and then daniel's eyes (or vice versa, I can't remember) and then the recap for this episode included clips of muse...but then no muse at all, not even mentioned in passing. usually something isn't included in a recap unless it has relevance to that episode. also the whole muse storyline was too rushed and tied up too neatly, I think bastian may have been a copycat or maybe hired by vanessa but I don't think bastian was the real muse and daniel is clearly a fucking psycho

also I am still in denial about foggy hear me out what if they switched up the vanessa storyline from the comics and brett was the one put foggy into witpro after learning what he knew about the port (with the help of madani) and they all show up next season 🤔 let me be delusional and live my fantasy

I don’t know if frank will be in the next season since they’re doing that solo punisher thing, so i’m wondering if we’re getting a dex and matt team up next season?? the enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that jazz. bc one, dex basically told vanessa it’s always on sight when he sees fisk, and two, if foggy isn’t actually dead, then I feel like matt might be open to letting dex help take down fisk (very reluctantly, but desperate times)

I have so many thoughts and feelings but i’m just so fucking excited to see what they do next now that we have the right team handling this next season but also I have no idea what the fuck to do with myself now

also nick fury, honey, it’s time to come home. another bald man in a sleek suit is trying to take over new york. pls come back to earth and help matt assemble some new besties thx

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 27

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mentions of unrequited love. smut, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, choking (kinda). Not giving away who the smut is about but uh, don't come at me.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your anger and frustration take a hold of you, and for the first time, you take control and change things into the better... you hope.

Word count: 14k+

A/N: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me so much, we've been talking about this chapter for two months now (or longer?) and I'm so fucking excited that we're finally here, aaaah!

series masterlist

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A look of anger is nestled deep into your soft features, your brows are knitted together, lips curled downwards. There’s a tired look in your eyes, it’s barely visible beneath the lingering rage. You are clenching your jaw, huffing in frustration ever so often. Despite the mess that must be going on inside your head, you still manage to look beautiful. That is something Heather has always admired about you. No matter what bullshit life throws at you, you always manage to look better than anyone else in the room. No amount of tears, betrayal or pain will stop you from making yourself look good. In fact, Heather is convinced that you look better and better after every fall that you take. 

How? She doesn’t know. 

She eyes you, admiring the way the short maroon skirt looks on you, sun kissed legs glowing beneath the dim lights, the tight black top adorned with dainty lace straps, boots that you wouldn’t have worn a year ago – you look good. Really good. She understands why Eddie struggles to keep his eyes off of you. Or why Steve still pines after you. You’re not just an amazing girl, you’re also a really fucking hot one. 

Another huff falls from your lips, your eyes flash with irritation as you slam one of the records on the shelf. 

Heather isn’t sure if she had ever seen you this angry. 

You are rarely ever angry. 

You weren’t even this angry when Steve stood you up on dates you were excited for.

“What is wrong with cheer captain over there?” Argyle whispers in his girlfriend's ear as he pretends to check out the tape in his hand. 

Heather snorts, looking over her shoulder at him, “she’s not a cheer captain anymore, you know?” 

He shrugs, “once a captain, always a captain, baby.” 

Heather shakes her head. 

“No, seriously. What happened to her?” He asks as he puts the tape back into place, placing his hand on her lower back as he glances at you. “I don’t think anger was an emotion that existed in her world,” he mumbles quietly, watching the way flick your hair back angrily as you make your way back to the counter. 

“I’m not sure,” Heather mumbles, wide eyed and confused, not knowing whether to confront you or not. “I guess something happened with Steve.. again.” Just a moment after those words leave her lips, the bell above the door rings and in walks Eddie with the usual smile that appears on his face whenever he sees you. 

Heather glances at him briefly, before her eyes move back to you, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes at the man you adore so much. She can’t even hide the look of surprise that crosses her face when you look down with a slight glare.

Argyle, who wasn’t blind to it either, laughs quietly, “uh oh, trouble in paradise.” 

Eddie, who is yet to notice the angry look on your face, walks up to the counter with a takeaway cup that he places in front of you, tearing your attention away from the magazine that lies in front of you. Without raising your head, you look up at him through your lashes, eying the cheerful look on his face, the smile, the stupid brown eyes that you love so much. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, looking around the record store, he waves at Heather and Argyle before he looks back at you. “I got you some coffee, figured you’d need some after last night.”

He drums his fingers against the counter as he stares at you, taking in the sight of you in your pretty little outfit, your glossy, kissable lips, your soft wavy hair that you always spent the most time on. He looks into your beautiful eyes that you glare at him with. He waits for you to crack a smile but, just like last night, you only frown, your lips twitch as though you try to force a smile but fail to do so. You don’t even acknowledge the cup he had placed in front of the magazine that you were glaring at before he walked in. 

Eddie’s heart sinks a little. He hoped to see a smile on your face today. You had been acting weird from the moment you had excused yourself to the bathroom last night. When you had gotten back with another drink in your hand, you chose to sit next to Steve instead of him. Eddie knew that something wasn’t right the moment he saw how you were forcing laughter and pretended to be interested in whatever Robin was telling you. You barely talked to him or to Steve for that matter, but you had at least looked at him. All Eddie got were halfhearted smiles, short replies and a cold shoulder from you. Which hurt – a lot. 

He didn’t allow himself to overthink, to feel hurt over something that probably meant nothing. But now that he stands in front of you, looking into those eyes that seem even more rage filled than the night before he knows that he had every reason to overthink. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

Eddie blinks, staring at you with sad eyes. 

“Uh, you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath, he straightens up, staring down at you with confused eyes. “Did you sleep well? You had a lot of whiskey last night.” 

You didn’t stay over last night. And he didn’t stay over at your place either. In fact, it’s been a while since you had slept in each other’s beds, since you both started working. He misses it. He misses you, he misses waking up beside you, feeling your body on his, smelling your perfume on his sheets. He wants to go back to the night you had stolen the bat plushie for him, when you missed him, when you wanted him to hold you, he misses it, especially now. 

“I slept just fine.” 

He clenches his jaw when you give him another glare. 

What is your problem? 

Are you angry? Or are you angry at him? 

“What do you want?” You ask, voice filled with bitterness. 

Ah. So, you are angry at him. Eddie had never gotten to know what it’s like to feel your anger before. What it’s like to feel your cold shoulder. Not once, had you been angry at him. Not once, had you glared at him, snapped at him, treated him unkindly. Not a single time, had you done wrong by him. You are always sweet, always kind, always good. Now he gets to feel it. And god, it doesn’t feel good. 

“Uh, well. I’m on lunch break and thought I’d drop by,” he mumbles, hating the way his voice wavers, the way he feels so awkward, knowing that Heather and Argyle are listening in on your conversation. “So, the guys canceled band practice tonight. Do you wanna hang out after work? I get off earlier, I can pick you up after your shift, we can go to the movies or have a few drinks at the hideout.”

Suddenly, you snap your head up, looking him directly into his eyes. Eddie is almost a little taken aback by the storm raging in your eyes. 

“Why? Did you run out of girls to eat out?” 

Eddie is stunned. Utterly stunned and dumbfounded. His mouth opens and closes again, too confused, too shocked to say anything. 

What? 

Heather and Argyle who feel just as stunned, look at each other with wide eyes. 

‘Holy shit, dude. That is like a soap opera.’ Argyle mouths with a funny look on his face as he points to you and Eddie. 

Heather glares at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. 

With an eye roll, you look away from Eddie and his confused frown. You turn around and walk away, not bearing to stand being in his presence any longer, you brush past your friends and walk into the backroom. Ignoring the guilt that is burning in your chest after seeing the look in Eddie’s eyes. 

His eyes follow you until you disappear into the hallway. He wants to follow you, he wants to move, he wants to confront you, but he stands frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do. 

What the hell just happened? 

Did you really say that?

“What did you do, Munson?” 

Eddie snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at Heather, who is already glaring at him with arms crossed over her chest. The girl had always intimidated him a little, but especially now. 

He looks over at Argyle who looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or try to calm his angry girlfriend down as he looks between Heather and him. 

Eddie lifts his shoulders, shrugging with a confused and crestfallen look on his face. He is clueless and lost, not quite understanding what the hell just happened. Nothing you say or do makes sense to him lately. You say you wish you met him first, only to act like nothing happened the next day, like you don’t remember your words from the night you had gotten so drunk. He tried not to think too much into it, even after Dmitri’s encouraging words. You could never feel the same, could you? No. Then he thinks about the previous night, about how upset you seemed after his little sex talk with Steve. Surely you are not upset about the things he did but about the things that Steve did or well, didn’t do with you. Not because of what he did months ago, right? You wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t care about what he did with other girls or maybe you do, just not for the reasons he’d hope. You were – are probably just upset about what he did with strangers, what your own boyfriend never did with you but did with a girl he left you for. 

You wouldn’t be jealous, not over him, right? 

Not that he would ever want you to, he would never want you to feel jealous over him. For him, there is only one girl that he wants and that is you. The girls he had fooled around with, were merely a distraction and long before he had admitted to his feelings. The moment he had looked at you a little longer, felt his heart race a little faster, caught himself thinking about you more than he should have, he tried to distract himself, he tried to be with other girls, ones who were willing to touch ‘the freak’. Though, he could never go all the way, the moment he even felt someone else’s touch on him, pictures of you flashed right before his eyes, as much as he tried to force them away, he couldn’t. He knew he was done for when the thought of fucking some random girl left a bitter taste in his mouth and the thought of you stopped him from even going as far. He stopped it right then and there, despite knowing that he would never get a chance with you. It just felt wrong and not as good as it should have. 

“Who’s pussy did you eat, dude?” Argyle shakes his head at him with both an amused and disapproving look on his face. 

Heather glares at her boyfriend before she redirects her glare at Eddie, feeling the anger rise inside of her. She is not ready to see you pine after another guy who can’t keep it in his pants. Though when she sees the sad and confused look in Eddie’s eyes, her shoulders slump a little. She sighs, dropping her arms by her sides. 

“No one’s – what the fuck,” Eddie mumbles, ready to turn on his heels and run out of here. “That was months ago. I don’t know why she’s so pissed at me.” 

Heather knows. Despite not knowing what happened, she knows why you are so pissed. 

She makes her way over to him, squinting her eyes as she tilts her head. 

“What happened months ago?” 

He sighs, cheeks heating up. He doesn’t want to talk about something so meaningless, let alone with a friend who would probably kill for you. 

“And what happened in general?” She asks, now talking in hushed whispers. “We talked on the phone yesterday, she seemed fine and was excited to see you, so what the hell happened?” 

His heart soars to hear that you were excited to see him. 

He runs his fingers through his messy curls, looking around the record store before he looks back at Heather. 

“We hung out with Robin and Steve. We went back to his place, got high and had a couple of drinks.”

“And?” 

“And then we, fuck,” he sighs. “It doesn’t matter, okay? S-She’s just pissed at me because of what Steve did… or didn’t do.” 

Heather’s brows knit together, a confused look taking over her face. She hates the way she never gets anything out of him or you. You are both so confusing sometimes. 

“I just – I’m gonna go,” he mumbles in defeat but also in anger and frustration, “just tell her to give me a call when she feels okay again.” 

Before she can say or ask anything else, he turns around but not before taking another glance into the hallway, huffing when it stays empty. He opens the door and leaves. 

Heather leans against the counter, rolling her eyes. 

When you walk back out, you look around the store, checking to see if he is still here. You ignore the disappointment and guilt gnawing at your stomach. 

“So…. what happened?” Heather asks you when you start reading your magazine again, as though nothing happened. 

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on,” she groans, throwing her hands up. “Just tell me what happened, you clearly need to let it out!” 

With a sigh, you lean closer to her, not wanting her boyfriend to listen in on this conversation. 

“I didn’t fucking know that men eat pussies.” 

Heather doesn’t want to, she really really doesn’t want to laugh. But, the mix of anger and embarrassment in your eyes, the flustered look on your face along with your choice of words makes it hard for her not to giggle, she manages to suppress it though. 

“He found out that Steve never did anything like that with me and then he bragged about his skills to both Robin and Steve. I thought he was done with it, he told me he wasn’t hooking up with anyone anymore but then I found out that he fooled around two or three months ago, Heather! He fucking fooled around with other girls!” You yell in a whisper, getting angrier and angrier. “He was fucking and doing god knows what w-with – god, I don’t even want to know. But then he got mad at me for kissing Steve! He treated me like shit all day when he found out about the kiss, yet he was doing so much worse!” 

Heather’s eyes widen. Not because of what you told him but because of the look on your face. The anger in your voice. The very clear jealousy and storm raging in your eyes. 

She narrows her eyes when she feels Argyle watching. He begins to whistle, pretending to not watch you throwing a fit. 

“It made me so mad, so fucking mad. I-It’s not even that he fooled around with girls, he was– is single and free to do whatever he wants. It’s just – fuck,” you grab your hair, shaking your head as you close your eyes, trying to take deep breaths. “On top of that, I find out that Steve did everything with Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

You are frustrated. That much is clear. Angry, jealous and irritated. But there is a different kind of frustration, right now. 

“Babe,” Heather whispers, reaching over the counter, she pulls your hands out of your hair, pulling them down and placing them back on the counter, “breathe with me.” 

You open your eyes, looking into her calm ones. 

“Just take a deep breath,” she repeats. 

“I got a joint for you if you want, y/n,” Argyle says from the other side of the room. 

“Argyle!” Heather snaps, glaring at him again – something that only makes him chuckle in response, shrugging. “She needs to chillax a little.” 

You crack a smile at his words.

“Look! There she is, the first smile of the day, good job, Heather!” He grins at his girlfriend with a thumbs up. 

“You made her smile,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. She looks back at you. 

“Look, Steve sucks, we all know that.” 

“Sucked.” 

She huffs at your correction. 

“He will always suck to me – but anyways, what I’m trying to say is,” she pauses, holding your hands tighter. “Eddie is not Steve. I know you’re scared to watch the guy you like fool around with other girls, like you had to with Steve back then but, Eddie isn’t him. Besides, didn’t he say it was months ago?” 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Two or three months ago.” 

“See, that’s a long time for a guy, trust me,” she mutters with wide eyes. “It didn’t happen recently, it happened months ago. He stopped for a reason, besides I don’t think there’s a reason for you to feel jealous. I know you like Eddie–”

“I don’t like Eddie,” you blush. 

“Sure you’re don’t, y/n,” Argyle chuckles, not even hiding the fact that he is listening in on your conversation. “You’re not fooling anyone, neither is Eddie. You’re both idiots.”

You frown at his words.

“Don’t listen to him” Heather shakes her head. “Listen, I get why you’re upset but, you need to learn how to speak up and talk about whatever is bothering you. You never talked to Steve, you always kept it all to yourself, which I get because he was a douchebag to you the few times you did open up. But, don’t do the same with Eddie. He cares about you, a lot.”

You look down, guiltily. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Heather sighs, squeezing your hands. “I think he deserved that little cold shoulder, he did the same to you,” she shrugs. “But seriously, just talk to him. Being the on the receiving end of the cold shoulder fucking sucks, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I-I just don't know what to say Heather. Whatever I will say will make me sound like some jealous lovesick idiot.” 

She raises her brows, “are you lovesick?” 

You shake your head at her, though she can see you blushing. You are afraid of the feelings you had developed for Eddie, the ones you haven’t even fully admitted to yet. 

“Well, start with an apology and explain to him why you were angry. That it was unfair of him to treat you like that after the kiss with Steve when he was doing, well, that..” 

You nod.

“Talk to him, go to the hideout, after work. We both know you want to.” 

“Us three know, you want to,” Argyle corrects her. 

“Yeah, yeah. Us three,” she laughs. 

You snort, shaking your head at them both. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “What if he doesn’t want to see me? I was a bitch to him.”

Argyle snorts, “girl, he came here all the way just to spend his lunch break with you and he looked like a poor little kitten who was kicked to the curb by his owner. He does want to see you.” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Y/n,” Heather sighs.

“I just, I didn’t bring my car and I don’t want to walk all the way there.”

She knows that you are trying to make up excuses because you are too afraid to face him now after what happened. 

“I’ll give you a ride in the coolest pizza van ever,” Argyle grins, “it’s supposed to storm later, wouldn’t want you to walk home in the rain, anyways,” he shrugs as he finally walks up to the counter, throwing his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, he grins at you. 

“See, you got a driver and a few hours to calm down!” Heather says with a big smile on her face. “Now let’s go before she says no,” she turns to her boyfriend, letting go of your hands to grab his, she starts to drag him out of the store. 

“Oh,” Argyle chuckles, “see ya later!” 

“Yeah bye,” you sigh, already dreading the moment you will have to face Eddie. 

You busy yourself with the new records that came in today, trying to ignore the abandoned cup of coffee on the counter, but you keep looking at it, feeling worse and worse the more time passes by. 

Eddie didn’t deserve the way you treated him. Even when he was once a dick to you, he still didn’t deserve it. But anger controlled you and maybe a pinch of jealousy. Eddie is single but that won’t stay that way forever. He might not be around for you, forever. Someday, someone will come into his life and steal his heart, someone he will fall for, someone he will leave you for. The thought of it, puts a frown on your face. Imagining him with another girl leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes your insides feel as though they’re twisting and catching on fire. You hate it. You hate the thought of him with someone else. 

But it will happen someday. Anyday. 

A mix of emotions run through you all day and it almost becomes unbearable on the drive to the hideout. Neither Argyle’s attempts at making you laugh with his silly jokes or his music manage to calm you down. Nothing manages to make you feel better in the slightest. By the time you jump out of the van, your hands are shaking and your heart is pounding. 

What if he doesn’t want to see you? 

What if he is angry at you? 

What if you just ruined a friendship that means everything to you?

The rain is pouring, forcing you to find shelter quickly. Normally, you would’ve given yourself at least five minutes to calm down before walking inside but you refuse to walk in looking like a wet dog. 

With shaky hands, you open the door and step inside, ignoring the raindrops rolling down your cheeks. You take a few deep breaths, pulling the jacket tighter around your body. You look towards the little booth you usually sit at, only to find it empty. 

You swallow nervously, furrowing your brows. 

The sound of a girl's laughter pulls your attention towards the bar and for a moment, your heart stops beating, your breath hitches in your throat. Unable to move, you stand frozen in place with hands that shake for different reasons other than nervousness now. 

Eddie is sitting at the bar, talking to some girl. She touches his arm, leaning closer to him. You hear her giggle and you see his smile and that is enough for you to regret even thinking of coming here. Of course, he went out to find someone else the moment you rejected his invitation. 

Your heart starts pounding again, your throat feels tight, too tight. You can’t bear to stare at the sight in front of you any longer. To see him smile at someone like this, to see someone else touching him, to see him so happy with someone other than you. 

The moment you hear his laughter is the moment you know you’re done for. It’s too late to come back from this now. It’s too late to try and keep your heart safe from yet another heartbreak. It’s too late to stop yourself from falling because you already fell. And you lost, again. 

Tears prickle in your eyes, your bottom lip starts trembling. 

The urge to walk over to him feels strong, too strong. But you fight it, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself, you turn around and storm out of the bar, not caring about the pouring rain. You step out into the cold, letting the rain crash down on you. 

You don’t even acknowledge his van as you walk past it. 

You’re blinking away the tears, not wanting them to fall. The feeling of dread, anger and sadness is starting to consume you, again. It feels like Halloween night, all over again. 

The door slams open behind you and footsteps echo through the empty streets. You keep walking, not bothering to look back, not even when you hear his voice calling your name. Only when he catches up to you, blocking your path by standing in front of you do you stop walking. 

You see the irritation in his features, the confusion as he stares you down. 

He is trying to shield himself from the rain but to no avail, his bangs are already sticking to his forehead. 

“I called your name!” 

You huff, trying to step around him, but he only moves in front of you again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He finally snaps. “Where are you going!?”

“Home!” You try to walk past him once again, but Eddie is stubborn, not letting you go. You huff in anger, looking up into his eyes with a glare, “Go back to your girl, I don’t want to be the one getting in the way of you and some pussy, Munson!” 

His eyes flash with confusion, darkening in frustration. 

“I– what!?” 

You shake your head at him, scoffing at his faked confusion. 

“Get out of the way.” 

“What!? No!” He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to take your hand and drag you towards his van but he doesn’t want to startle you in this moment, not after what happened with Ray. 

You clench your jaw, glaring at him. You watch how his breathing gets heavier and heavier, how he glares into your eyes with both anger and frustration. 

Something like this has never happened before. 

You had never gotten into a fight before. Not once. 

“Get in the van, sweetheart.” 

The nickname that usually rolls off his tongue so sweetly, sounding so bitterly now. 

You shake your head. 

He huffs, looking away for a moment, he suddenly no longer feels the cold rain on his skin, the goosebumps underneath his clothes. He only feels the irritation rushing through him. He looks back at you, staring at the frown on your face, the furrowed brows, the pursed lip, the way you’re breathing so heavily. 

You are angry and so is he, he is fuming. 

“I’m not letting you go until you get in the damn van.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, not minding the pouring rain, at all. 

“No.” 

He stares at you in disbelief. Who would’ve thought that you could be such a brat?

He takes a step closer, looking down at you, “get in the van,” he says, slowly. 

Eddie expects you to stay stubborn, to shake your head and continue to argue with him on that. To his surprise, you drop your arms to your sides and turn around but not without an eye roll. 

He shakes his head at the attitude you’re still giving him, the one that got even worse. He reaches for his car keys, following you to his van. Despite his anger, he still walks over to the passenger side, opening the door for you. The rain dripples down your face, you get in the van with a mad look on your face, not even sparing him a glance. 

Another huff falls from his lips when you continue to ignore him. He closes the door, not wanting to stand longer in the rain than he has to, he rushes over to the driver's side, quickly getting in. 

He pushes the key into the ignition, starting it but not moving to start driving yet. He looks over at you after taking a deep breath. You’re staring out the window, not moving, not speaking, not turning to look at him the way you usually do, even your knees are pointed away from him. 

“Are you gonna talk to me?” He asks as he grabs the steering wheel. 

Silence. 

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, at least?” 

You only shift in your seat, huffing. He notices how fast you’re blinking, how you keep pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling. His eyes soften a little when he realizes that you are trying to blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. 

“Can you just drive me home?” You ask in annoyance. 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a long minute, trying to figure you out. He feels restless, his heart is pounding and he dreads the moment he has to drop you off at home, knowing that this will stay unresolved, but what can he do? 

With a sigh, he turns away from you, he doesn’t even bother to turn up the music when he starts driving. For the first few minutes, the car ride is spent in silence. There is a storm raging in his mind, a million questions running through it, ones that he will find no answers for himself. 

You are silent. You are never this silent. You always talk to him, you never ever ignore him. 

“What the hell is going on, y/n?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “Are you ever gonna speak to me again or are you gonna continue to act like a goddamn brat?” 

The faintest scoff sounds through the space between you, though this is all he gets out of you. 

He clenches his jaw and holds the steering wheel even tighter than before, he taps his finger against it, getting jumpy the harder his heart starts pounding. He doesn’t want to leave things unresolved. He doesn’t want to drop you off at home like this. He doesn’t want to deal with this tension, this anger from you any longer. He can’t take it. He can’t take the cold shoulder, not from you.

But he feels so powerless, not knowing what he did wrong, not knowing what he did to make you so angry. 

“What is wrong with you!? I invited you tonight, and you clearly rejected the invitation! You’ve been acting like a total bitch to me since yesterday night at Steve’s!” 

Not a single word leaves your mouth. He tries, he really tries to stay calm but he’s scared. He’s fucking scared that he messed it up without realizing that he did. 

In his state of anger and panic, he pulls the car off the road, slamming the brakes as he brings the car to a stop. He unbuckles the seatbelt, briefly glancing at you to find you staring at him in confusion. 

Oh, so now you’re finally fucking looking at him?

He gets out of the car, ignoring the way you mumble his name or the way you look at him with those big irresistible eyes. He stands beneath the pouring rain, not caring about the risk of catching a cold. He needs to cool off. He needs to breathe. He needs to think. 

He starts pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, thinking too much, too hard. 

He hears the door slamming and when he opens his eyes, he sees you standing there, even in the darkness, he can see the confused look, that same one that he has been wearing all day. Not just today, for the past few weeks. 

“Get back in the van!” 

He almost wants to laugh. 

“Seriously, come back, Eddie!” 

He won’t stop pacing, he keeps looking at you, at the way you’re standing there, not moving. 

“You make me so fucking mad and confused sometimes!” He yells over the loud rain. 

He sees the way you draw back, the way you look so offended for a second, before you start making your way over to him. 

“I make you confused? With what!?”

“Y-You tell me you wish you met me first, what the fuck does that even mean!?” He throws his hands up, he finally stops pacing. “You act like it never happened, like you never even said it. I-I don’t understand what is going on anymore! Why are you so fucking angry at me?”

You tense up, not daring to say anything. 

Eddie wants and needs an answer, he deserves one. You owe it to him. His brown eyes are filled with anger but they are also pleading. You have to tell him the truth but you can’t do that, despite what Heather said, you can’t do it. You’re scared.

You look down, huffing with your shoulders slumped, “fine, if you won’t drive me home, I’ll walk,” you say, stubbornly as you take a few steps before he jumps in front of you again.

He scoffs in disbelief, “oh, you’re not going anywhere until we work this out!” 

“Eddie–”

“I’m done with you running away from everything!”

“I’m not running.” 

He shakes his head at you, “no? Then what do you call this then, sweetheart? You keep running away when things get difficult or confusing but please, just this once, don’t run, don’t walk away from me,” he pleads, wanting nothing more than to take your hands in his.

You look up, finally meeting his eyes again. 

His hair no longer holds the volume from before, it’s drenched, water dripping from it, his face is soaked from the rain, his eyes blazing with anger and frustration, your eyes move to his lips and you once again, feel the fluttering in your chest, that you try to ignore, especially now. 

“You never say how you really feel, you never give the whole truth, you make me all confused and leave me hanging, all the damn time!” 

You shake your head, “when did I ever leave you hanging!?” 

He raises his brows, eyes widening as he looks at you in both disbelief and confusion. 

“How about the time you avoided me after you kissed Steve? Or the time you just disappeared on me for a whole week–”

“I called you every night!” You yell with a frown on your face. 

“Yeah? Well, you never told me why you suddenly needed to stop seeing me!” 

You swallow and look away, something that makes him roll his eyes. 

“Or the time you told me you wish you met me first? I-It’s been fucking with my mind ever since and I can’t make sense of it! You said these words to me and then passed out and the next day, you acted like nothing fucking happened!” 

You close your eyes, bouncing your knee and digging your nails into your palms. 

“Why does that matter now?” You ask, getting irritated the longer you stay out here, the longer you feel the clothes sticking to your cold skin. 

Eddie can’t explain the rage that is cursing through his veins. It isn’t directed at you but at the feelings he can’t set free because he can’t ruin this thing between you even more.

“It matters to me!” He yells, sounding desperate to know the truth. “Why do you say these things to me? Why are you so angry at me? Why aren’t you fucking talking to me?” 

You snap your head up, hating the way your heart is filled with so much fear or the way your body won’t stop shaking. He looks so angry at you – he is angry with you and your silence. 

“You never give me a chance to know what you’re angry about! But fuck, this time you are getting into my fucking nerves because you – I don’t know why you are so mad and why you keep being so cold towards me when I didn’t do shit!” He exclaims, feeling like his heart is about to jump out. 

He is angry, but he is mostly scared. Scared to lose you. 

You look offended by his words and despite it, you move closer and closer to him, drawn into him like a magnet despite the anger that should push you away, the way it always pushed you away from Steve for a little while before he’d come back asking for forgiveness. 

“Oh, so I’m cold now!? So you can be mad at me and act cold whenever you want, but I fucking can’t!?” 

He knows what you’re talking about. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. And as he looks into your eyes and he sees something else besides anger, he slowly begins to understand. He looks into your eyes, he watches the way the drops of rain run down your cheeks, the way your angry eyes are filled with unshed tears, the way you are so much closer than before, the way your chest is rising up and down heavily as you stare at him intensely, eyes scanning his whole face. 

He feels desperate. He wants and needs to fix this, he needs you to explain to him what happened so he can fix it, he needs you to stay, he needs you to stay with him. He can’t lose you. 

You stare at his lips for a long time, you listen to the way your heart is pounding, to the way your hands itch to touch his skin, despite the situation you find yourself in, despite the anger that is still cursing through your veins. 

You can’t bear this any longer. You can’t take this, not with him. You are so sick of the fighting. You are sick of being scared. You are sick of losing. You are sick of wondering and never taking action. 

“I at least explained to you why! You are afraid of telling me your reasons, and I honestly have no clue what your deal is! So can you please just tell me–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down, not wasting a second, you smash your lips against his, not letting yourself second guess it any longer. You finally do it. You kiss him. 

You kiss Eddie. 

With your eyes closed and your body almost pressed against his, you move your lips against his as you hold his face with your hands, getting lost in the feeling of kissing your best friend, not even noticing how still his body is. 

Eddie stands frozen in place. His eyes are wide, his heart is racing like crazy. He stares at you, not quite understanding what is happening, not believing what is happening. Is this real? Is he real? Are you real? Are you really kissing him? Is this really happening?

This is everything he ever wanted. To feel your lips on his. To find out what it’s like to kiss you, even if just for one time. 

As you stand here, kissing him under the pouring rain that is crashing down on the both of you, Eddie can’t believe that this isn’t something out of his dreams. Not even the cold rain can pull him out of his trance, not even the racing of his heart can pull him out of whatever shock he is under. 

Only when your lips stop moving and you shakily remove your hands from his face, you open your eyes, almost fearfully. You get flustered, so so flustered. Your eyes scan his whole face and he notices how anxious you now look. You swallow as your brows pinch together, a look of rejection flashes in your eyes as they begin to tear up. You blink, opening and closing your mouth. You take a small step back from him as your shoulders slump. You look crestfallen and that finally causes him to snap out of it. 

You blink, trying to hide the tears that are about to spill. 

He doesn’t want you. He never wanted you. What ever made you think that he could want you? Who does? Who could ever want you? 

You take another step back, raising your hands towards your lips, “I-I’m s–” 

Before you can even utter another word, Eddie takes two steps forward, he cups your cheeks, not letting you move away or doubt yourself any longer, not wasting another second, he leans down and he crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away with only the feeling of his lips moving against yours, you can’t even stop the gasp from escaping despite having kissed him just now. But you easily melt into his touch and against his lips. Your eyes close and you kiss him back in an instant. The softest sigh falls from his lips when you start to kiss each other like you’ve always wanted to. It’s soft and slow at first. His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, your hands are now pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pounding loudly,matching the pace of your own. The softest sigh escapes your lips, enough to make Eddie weak in the knees. You are both savoring this feeling, the feeling of the way your lips move against one another, the feeling of your bodies pressed together, the fluttering of your hearts, the joy inside of you. 

Eddie already knew that he was done for before this. But now, he is ruined and he doesn’t mind it for a single second. Even if you are only giving him a taste of this, even if this is the one and only kiss, he will die a happy man. He doesn’t know whether he feels like crying tears of joy or screaming in happiness when he feels you deepening the kiss, still going slow and soft as before but wanting more, more, more. He can feel you holding back. 

His hands leave your face, slipping down your – his soaked denim jacket, he squeezes your arms before his hands find their way to your waist. 

He could stand here forever, just kissing you underneath the stormy sky. Embracing the tingly feeling you leave his lips with, the giddiness in his stomach, the racing in his heart. He doesn’t want this to end, even when he’s getting breathless, he doesn’t want it to end. He just wants to keep kissing you. He just wants to keep feeling your lips moving against his, he wants to feel your hands on his chest, your body pressed against his, your breath on his skin, the taste of strawberries on your lips. He wants this to keep going. He doesn’t want this to end. 

But neither do you. 

You pull away from each other and open your eyes at the same time, both gasping for air as you stare at each other wide eyed. Your chests are rising up and down heavily. Rain is dripping down both your bodies but neither of you feel the coldness of it. You only feel each other. You only see each other. 

You only see him. You only feel him. His lips are parted, his cheeks are flushed, he is staring at you, eyes scanning your whole face. He wants more. You can tell by the look in his eyes as he stares at your lips, wanting to smash his against yours again, wanting to kiss you harder. 

And you want it too. 

You want more. 

You want him. 

All of him. 

You can sense each other’s desperation and this time, you both crash into each other after a long moment of heavy silence. You throw your arms around his neck as he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him as your lips meet, once again. This kiss is unlike the first one or the second one. This kiss is filled with so much desperation, longing, and raw lust, it’s rough and everything you’ve ever wanted to feel. You moan at the feeling of his ringed fingers digging into your skin and his plump lips kissing you so roughly and passionately. 

Eddie still struggles to believe that this is actually happening, that you are kissing him, that you are letting him slip his tongue past your lips, that you are moaning against his lips, that you are letting him slam your back against the side of his van, only for you to dig your fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging at his wet curls. 

He moans into the kiss when you bite his lower lip, catching him off guard a little by the roughness of your touch. You press yourself against him, sighing and fucking whimpering for him. 

One thing is for certain, the friendship is ruined. 

Your tongues clash together, your noses bump into each other as the kiss gets rougher and rougher. Both of you are breathing heavily, neither of you want to move away but when the lack of air gets too much again, you part away from the kiss but Eddie can’t stop, he brushes your hair to the side and leans down to press his lips against your jaw, kissing his way down to your neck. 

“Eddie,” you moan in need, closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip when you feel his lips on your sweet spot. You keep your hands around his neck, keeping yourself pressed against his body. You have to squeeze your thighs together when you feel him against your stomach, when you feel his lips sucking on your skin, when you hear his moans as he starts pleading for you. 

“God, I have to have you, baby,” he murmurs against your neck. “I need you.”  

He is asking, begging for you. 

Your stomach flutters and your knees almost buckle. 

You want him too. You need him too. 

You reach for his face, cupping his cheeks as you lean in, desperately kissing his lips again. 

“The back,” you whisper against his lips, pecking them. “The back of the van, now.”

His lips twitch as his eyes light up, you keep pecking his lips, “please.”

He takes your hand, dragging you towards the back of the van, almost shaking from excitement. He opens the door and grabs your waist, “c’mere,” he murmurs as he pulls your back flush against his chest, pressing his lips to your neck before he urges you inside. Your stomach flips at the thought of what is about to happen. You bite your lip as you bend down, crawling inside, onto the mountain of blankets and pillows you and Eddie have put in here, months ago. Your palms land on the gray pillows as you crawl forward. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, his breath hitches in his throat when your short skirt rides up, exposing your black thong to him. His mouth waters and his pants suddenly feel ten times tighter than they did five seconds ago. 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing harshly.  

Who would’ve thought that his sweet best friend wears lacy black thongs underneath her short little skirts. Fuck. A few months back you were wearing polka dot underwear with cute little bows. He only knows that cause he accidentally walked in on you changing, a few times. Something that led to uncomfortable situations for him. 

Snapping out of his thoughts when your desperate eyes meet his, he finally follows you inside, closing the door behind him when you suddenly reach forward and eagerly grab him by the cuffs on his belt, earning a surprised moan from him when you pull him down, on top of you, not giving him the time to react before you slam your lips back against his. With one hand on the pillow beside you and the other cupping your cheek, Eddie kisses you back, savoring the feeling of your sighs and moans, the feeling of your hands on him, as they start to explore his body, moving down his shoulders and arms as you start tugging on his jacket. 

“Off,” you murmur between pecks. “Take it off.” 

His heart flutters at the eagerness behind your soft voice. Without breaking the kiss, he takes it off, throwing the soaked leather jacket to the side before he lets himself get lost in the feeling of you. 

Eddie feels like his heart might explode from how hard it is beating inside his chest, your soft moans are driving him insane, your touches, the way you run your fingers down his arms before they find their way to his waist, pulling him closer and closer until his body is flush against yours. 

He allows his hands to wander, moving them down to your chest and stomach, basking in the feeling of your hands gripping his sides harder when he slips his cold hand underneath your shirt. 

You are the first to break the kiss, you open your eyes as he does too, both of you are breathing heavily.

Eddie stares at the lust in your eyes, the pupils that have widened, leaving almost none of the color behind. Your lips are swollen from the kisses, wet hair already a mess, you are breathing heavily, tugging at his shirt. Eddie adores you. He really fucking adores you. He wants nothing more than to rip your clothes off and worship you. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes. “Are you–”

“Fuck me,” you whisper before he can even ask the stupid question. “Fuck me, Eddie. Please.” 

Yeah, he for sure, died and somehow went to heaven. He is convinced of it. 

Your skin feels on fire. Despite the cold rain you’ve been standing under for the past few minutes, your skin feels on fire. Your heart is racing, not out of fear or heartbreak. No, it’s racing because of Eddie. You want him. You need him inside of you. Your body is aching for him. You are so lust filled – in a way you have never been before. 

Eddie’s cheeks are flushed, you can see it as you lay beneath the small string of fairy lights on the roof of his van. His eyes are black. His skin feels just as hot as yours. His strong hands are still on your stomach but you want them elsewhere. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this, princess.”

You are aching. Absolutely aching for him. 

Eddie kisses your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck as his hands start to push at the denim jacket, desperately wanting you out of it. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing at your waist, he pulls you up with him, so he can take your clothes off. You spread your legs over his lap, watching the way his eyes fall to your exposed thighs as your skirt rides up. His eager hands get rid of the wet denim still covering your body, he throws it next to his leather jacket. His lips twitch, curling into a smirk as you start pulling his shirt over his head, feeling just as eager as he does. You throw it down, not caring where it lands. 

You swallow as you take in the sight of his naked upper body. The chest you've looked at many times makes your skin burn now, the tattoos that linger on his pale skin now look delicious, and you just want your hands all over him. You lick your lips as you lean closer to him, stomach fluttering at the sound of his breath hitching when you press your lips to the tattoo on his chest, keeping your eyes on his. 

Eddie’s heart makes a jump, the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. He grabs your sides harder. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in content, trying to keep his eyes from shutting when you start to kiss your way up to his neck. “Y-You’re driving me crazy today, sweetheart. C-Can’t believe this is real.”

“You’ve been driving me crazy too, Eddie,” you mumble into his neck as you start sucking. “Why did you talk to her like that? You’re mine.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, a gasp nearly tears out of his mouth. 

Did you really just say that?

You suck harder, fingers digging into his scalp as you tilt his head to the side, needing more access to his neck. You switch between soft and rough kisses, gentle pecks and just sucking away like a vampire who’s starved.

“Mine.” 

Eddie’s heart nearly explodes. This has to be a dream, a very very good fever dream. He is surprised by the roughness of your touch and by your words, words that aren’t directed at Steve Harrington but at him. 

You’re surprised by yourself but your mind is in a haze, your blood pumping from all the adrenaline, you couldn’t care less about showing how jealous you were, how possessive you are of him. He wants you just as much as you want him, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, you don’t have to fear that this might push him away, you don’t have to hide your true feelings anymore, not the way you did with him. 

You can be jealous, possessive, angry, selfish, a goddamn brat. It won’t push him away. With Steve, you always had to be the good girl, the silent one, the one that was afraid to show her true side because you knew that it would push him away. 

But not him. Never him. 

“I’m all yours,” he breathes as he grabs your cheeks, pulling you back so he can see your face again. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, sweetheart.” And with that, he slams his lips back against yours, crashing them onto yours, earning a loud moan from you. He kisses you messily. Not knowing that his words make your heart feel more alive than ever. 

You smile into the kiss when his hands start to roam your body, sliding down your back and grabbing your ass, fighting to urge to push his hand under your skirt just yet, but the thought of your little black thong makes him groan into the kiss, especially when your hand slides down his stomach and you press your palm against his bulge, tearing another groan out of him. He starts playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up, his fingertips graze your bare skin, causing you to shudder. You pull away so he can take your shirt off, leaving you in just your lacy bra. He pecks your lips one more time before he pulls back to take a look at you. 

“Oh fuck,” Eddie whispers as he takes in the sight of you, nearly moaning in desperation. He saw you in a bikini before, he saw this much skin before, but it’s not the same. It’s different. This is different. Your chest is only covered by black lace, your skin is glistening beneath the dim lights hanging above you, you are breathing heavily, staring at him with wide eyes, begging for his touch. Your hair is sticking to your skin, your lipstick is smudged, you look like the prettiest girl in the world. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, staring at you with nothing but awe in his eyes. 

You are blushing at his words, and yet, you are the one to take him by surprise again when you lean in to kiss his chest, but not staying there for long, opting to kiss down his stomach as you begin to unbuckle his belt, moving lower and lower. 

His eyes widen when he realizes what you are trying to do. You want to suck him off. His cock twitches at the thought of your pretty lips around him but before he can let his thoughts get any further, he grabs you by your elbows and pulls you back up. As much as he is dying to let one of his fantasies become reality, he’d rather bring another, bigger one to life. 

“Nope.”

A frown takes over your face and you look up with a pout on your lips, one that makes it impossible not to kiss you. 

“I need to taste you, sweetheart.” He gently pushes you back down, making sure that your head hits the softest pillow, he steals another kiss. “Please, let me be the first to taste you.” 

His brown eyes look into yours, waiting for approval, waiting for you to say ‘yes’. It doesn’t take you long to answer, you nod your head quickly, begging with your eyes. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks as he grabs at your chest, squeezing your boobs, pulling another loud moan out of you. 

“Do whatever you want to me, Eddie,” you whine as you let all the frustration, all the pent up tension that’s been building up in the past few months, out.  “Please, just, please do something.” 

His stomach makes a somersault at your words, he is almost in disbelief of what the night has turned into, but for now, he pushes the shock aside and only focuses on you. He unclasps your bra with little effort, peppering your shoulder and your chest with kisses as he pushes the straps down your arms and takes the flimsy material off. 

“God,” he groans as he feels the uncomfortable strain in his jeans that have gotten way too fucking tight. “I knew they would look good, but never this, baby,” he moans as he grabs your boobs, leaning down, without wasting another second, he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking around it. 

“E-Eddie!” You gasp. 

His hand trails down your stomach, past your skirt that he flips over so he can touch you. He cups your pussy and he can’t even suppress the moan when he feels how much you have soaked through the thin material of your thong. He pushes it to the side, letting his fingers glide through your wet folds. 

“Please,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “More!”

He smirks as he keeps sucking on your nipple, teasing your soaked entrance with his fingertips before he brings them up to your clit. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart.”

Your eyes close and your lips press together harshly when you feel him rubbing your clit in slow, torturous circles, stopping only to tease your entrance the same way. It only lasts for a moment though when he gets just as impatient as you are. He releases your nipple with a pop!, trailing kisses down your stomach. 

You push yourself up on your elbows, blushing like crazy, the closer he gets to your heat, the longer he keeps looking into your eyes, even when he settles between your thighs. Fuck. You are aching for this – you have been aching for his touch for a long time now. Who would’ve thought that you would ever get him like this? 

Eddie takes his sweet time with you, getting rid of your skirt first before he hooks his fingers around your panties, yanking them down slowly. Your breathing picks up and your cheeks feel hotter than ever. Even in the haze of lust, you feel a little shy and nervous, having never done this before. All kinds of questions start running through your mind, filling you with sudden doubts – ones that Eddie quickly shuts down. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, almost drooling at the sight of your glistening pussy. “You’re so pretty.” He takes you off guard by licking a stripe up from your hole to your clit. “You taste so sweet too,” he moans as he repeats it again. 

“Eddie!” You gasp as you try to close your thighs, only for him to spread them open again. 

“Keep your legs open for me, baby,” Eddie groans, wanting nothing more than to just bury his face in your pussy and make you scream and cry until you’re begging him to fuck you – and that is just what he does. He grabs your thighs roughly, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he buries his face in your cunt. 

He teases your clit first, licking around it, sucking on it as he keeps his eyes on you, the whole fucking time. Wanting, needing to see you fall apart for him. You moan loudly, he keeps his lips attached to your clit as his fingers slip inside of you, slowly, stretching you open. 

You squeeze your legs shut around his head, elbows buckling when he starts fingering you. His fingers certainly reach deeper inside of you than your own. 

“Mmmh, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s cock is twitching, begging for release. You are moaning his name and he didn’t even get started. He slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy. Licking down your center and slipping his tongue inside of you. You expect him to replace his fingers with his tongue but instead, he fucks you with both. 

“That feels so good, Eddie! D-Don’t stop – please don’t stop!” You whine, a little shyly. He sees the flustered look on your face but the lust is stronger than any other emotion inside of you, right now.

He groans when you clench around his fingers but start grinding against his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”

“I– you – ah!” You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head hit the pillow, you dig your nails into the blanket. 

The van is filled with moans from both you and Eddie, heavy breathing and the wet noises of his fingers slamming in and out of you. 

Eddie has to restrain himself from grinding down against the blanket but you make it really hard not to. He keeps his eyes on you, watching the way you pinch your brows together as you bite your lip, still letting moans and whimpers fall, though. He sees the way you're gripping the blanket tightly, but he craves to feel you tugging and pulling his hair, something that Eddie wouldn’t allow anyone else to do. He reaches his hand out, wrapping it around your wrist, he guides it towards his wet curls and you instantly grab at them, earning a low growl from him.

He switches between licking and fucking you with his tongue and you can’t help but gasp and whimper at every flick of his tongue. This is unlike anything you have ever felt before. The feeling of his tongue slipping in and out of your wet hole, his thumb rubbing your clit, his moans that add even more to the pleasure. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe that this is happening, that you’re letting me do this.”

You pull his hair harder and buck your hips up against his face. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your eyes sting with tears from the pleasure that he is giving you. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to look into his as he keeps staring at you. You open your mouth to speak when he suddenly tears a gasp out of you, by curling his fingers, reaching so deep inside of you that you almost sob from how good it feels. 

“Eddie! What – oh fuck!” You whimper, looking down at him through your blurry vision. You watch him fuck you with both his tongue and fingers, tearing high pitched moans out of you when you feel how deep his fingers are inside of you. Knuckles deep. And you can’t help but grind against his hand, holding onto his hair so tightly as you squeeze your eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of Eddie eating you out so desperately and eagerly. 

He watches the way you try to say something only to be cut off by your own moans and whimpers, you turn into a blubbering mess when his fingers find your g-spot and his thumb rubs circles on your swollen clit. This is all he ever wanted. To worship you. To taste your sweetness on his tongue, his newest addiction. The fact that he gets to be the first makes it all even more special, you definitely won’t forget this. 

Who would’ve thought that your jealousy would bring the two of you to do this. 

He licks your pussy, moaning as though it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He is holding your legs tighter now as he eagerly eats you out, shaking his head as he moves his tongue in a way you can’t even explain, you can only whimper out his name, pulling his hair harshly as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tension in your stomach becoming stronger and stronger. 

Waves of pleasure run through your body, you’re getting closer and closer. You are falling apart, barely able to keep your shaking body still as you feel his fingers pumping deeper, tongue moving faster, his moans adding to the pleasure. You squeeze your legs shut around his head, opening your eyes to look down at him, the look in his almost black eyes, the desperation and lust behind him is what throws you over the edge. 

It’s Eddie. Eddie who cared for you since the beginning. Eddie who protected you from the moment you two started talking. Eddie who unconditionally was beside you through ice and fire.

“I’m gonna – Eddie!” A loud yelp escapes you when you can no longer hold it back, he flicks his tongue again, making you cum in a way that has you seeing stars. He laps up everything you give him, eyes almost rolling back when he continues to taste you. 

You chant his name, over and over again, making the strain in his pants more uncomfortable than ever. He doesn’t want to stop, he wants to keep going, he wants to keep tasting you but when you desperately tug at his hair and murmur a whiny ‘I need you’, he presses a kiss to your clit, smirking at the way you whimper his name as he starts to kiss his way back up your body.  

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, not even fazed by the juices dripping down his chin. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring him closer, both of you moaning at the feeling of his dick pressed against you. 

“Still jealous?” He smirks. 

“Shut up,” you frown as you pull him in for another kiss. 

“You don’t have a reason to feel jealous, I want you, I only ever wanted you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the confession, eyes widening and softening at the same time. 

“And what about those girls you’ve been with?” 

He kisses your lips, “I never thought you’d want me back, I tried to distract myself but it never worked so I stopped.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, your lips twitch, you can’t help but smile as you pull him in for another, deeper kiss, one that he reciprocates right away. 

With one hand on your cheek and the other playing with your boob, he flicks his tongue against yours, moaning and whimpering for more. 

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips. “I need you inside of me, Eddie.”

His eyes light up and his dick twitches at your words. He never thought he'd hear these words from you. 

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Please.” 

You push your hands down his body, grabbing at his belt again, you start fumbling with it, wanting to get rid of his pants quickly. He helps you, not stopping with the kisses even when he takes the rest of his clothes off. 

Realization rushes through him and he groans in annoyance. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” 

He watches the way your lips curl into a smirk. 

“We don’t need one. I never stopped taking the pill.”

His eyes darken even more, his stomach flips. 

“Shit sweetheart, you can’t just say that to me,” he groans at the thought of fucking you without one. This night keeps getting better and better. 

You giggle and catch him by surprise when you flip him over and get on top of him, straddling him. You wrap your hand around his cock, nearly gasping at the size. Pre cum is already leaking out of his tip and rolling down his length, you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning. You need him inside of you, now. You press your hand on his tattooed chest, fingers grazing the chain around his neck as you slowly sink down on his cock, not wanting to waste another second. He stretches you open and you welcome it, loving the way it feels to be filled by him. 

You miss the way he stares at you in awe, the way he takes in the sight of you on top of him, the way you shut your eyes and moan loudly as you take in more and more of him, the way you bite your swollen lip as you moan for him.  

His eyes are wide, his dick is already twitching inside of you, the feeling of your tight, wet walls engulfing him almost throws him over the edge already because fuck, it’s you on top of him, it’s you sinking down on his cock, it’s you. He can’t believe that this is real, that this isn’t just another one of his dreams. 

“Mhmm Eddie,” you moan as you slam down onto his cock, letting him split you open. 

The moment he feels you clenching around him, he gasps, snapping out of his trance, he sits up, grabbing your hips roughly to keep you from moving. 

You open your eyes, a flash of insecurity washing over your face. 

“W-What, don’t you like–”

“Sweetheart, if you move right now, I’m gonna fucking bust, give me a second,” he whimpers, closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate on not cumming too quickly. He leans closer, pressing his chest against yours as he slides his hands up your bare back, pressing his lips to your skin. Kissing your throat, your neck, your jaw and down your chest. 

You wrap your arms around him, leaning closer, you bury your face in his neck, giving him a second to adjust to the feeling. You breathe in his scent, his cologne, his aftershave, the smell of cigarettes that always lingers. You kiss his skin and suck on it a little, wanting nothing more than to mark him up as yours. A whine leaves your lips when you start to move your hips, circling him. 

Eddie’s mouth waters, he moans your name loudly. He couldn't believe he could have you this way. The beating inside his chest is almost too uncomfortable for him to properly breathe.

Your hair is in his face, the smell of your shampoo and perfume filling his senses, driving him even crazier. You pull back, arching your back in pleasure and closing your eyes as you bite your lip with a moan. 

Before he can even react, you start moving, bouncing on his cock desperately. He watches wide eyed, with nothing but love and desperation in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming right now?” He mumbles, unable to stop the whimper from escaping when you bounce harder. “Is this real? Baby, please tell me it is.”

You grab his hands, pressing them against your boobs “uh huh.” You keep bouncing on his cock, desperately. Surprised by your own self, by how desperate you are, right now. You’ve never been this feral before, and it has to do with the fact that since the very beginning you weren’t allowed to. 

He watches you, staring at the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way your tits bounce as he grabs at them, the way his cock disappears in your body. Fuck. This really is a dream come true. Suddenly, a flip switches inside of him, he grabs your waist and flips you over, getting on top of you. 

You open your eyes, stunned at the feral look that you see in his eyes for the first time. 

“I’m gonna do what I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time now.”

Before you can even say or ask anything, he holds your hips tighter than before and starts pounding into you, turning you into a dumb mess.

“Fuck,” he growls as his hips snap against yours and he fucks into you roughly, you feel so good, so fucking good. 

You can’t even form any words or sentences anymore, your mind is in a haze, your eyes barely staying open anymore, all you can do is moan and watch in awe how he fucks you in a way you’ve always dreamed of. His pace is brutal, his cock is splitting you open so perfectly. 

His hands are soft on you, his eyes look into yours in awe, with nothing but love but his hips move roughly.

He grabs your hands, pinning your wrists down beside your head, earning another loud moan from you. You love it. You love how rough he is with you, how he is fucking you so disrespectfully. He can tell by the look in your eyes, the fire behind them, the lust that keeps getting stronger and stronger with each rough thrust. You’re getting wetter, soaking his cock completely. 

You feel his breath on your lips as he presses his forehead against yours.

You wrap your legs around his waist, breathing heavily as he lets go of your hand, slipping his rough palm down your stomach, he presses you down before he ruts into you even faster and harder, totally knocking your breath away. 

“Feels so good,” you whimper as your eyes well up with a new wave of tears and your mouth begins to water. 

Pride swells in his chest, his heart almost busts. You are trusting him enough to do this with him. You are letting him touch you. You are letting him fuck you, make love to you. All his insides feel on fire, love and lust is all that he feels. His heart flutters in his chest when you look at him with tear filled and pleading eyes. You’re getting tighter and tighter around him. You try to raise yourself up on your elbows, only to fall back down when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Your stomach feels on fire, your legs are already shaking, you’re close, so close, so soon. 

He looks so good. With his cheeks so flushed, his eyes so dark, his pale skin that you want to kiss and lick, his arms that have gotten more muscular since he started working at the shop, his moans that drive you fucking crazy. 

One, two, three more thrusts and you can already no longer hold back, squeezing him tightly as you cum without even having to touch your clit. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie moans, not stopping his movements. “Just like that, sweetheart. Let go for me.” 

Your high pitched moans fill the van, the wet, squelching noises as he slams his cock in and out of you, not stopping as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“D-Don’t stop!” You sob, getting even needier despite the two orgasms he just coaxed out of you. “Please, Eddie!” 

He loves to hear you beg for him. He loves the way your body feels beneath his, so perfect and right. He loves the way you feel wrapped around his dick, like you were made just for him. Your juices are dripping out of you, making everything sound even filthier. He’s surprised by the way he’s able to hold himself back, the way he hasn’t busted in his pants while eating you out. He could cum just by listening to your moans. He is obsessed with you.

You are so needy for him. You won’t look away from him, refusing to shut your eyes, even as tears start to run down your cheeks and drool slips past your lips, you keep looking at him with that fucking innocent look in your eyes. 

As though that isn’t hot enough already. You grab his hand, raising it up towards your mouth and you wrap your lips around the fingers that were knuckles deep inside of you just moments ago. Your eyes roll back as you flick your tongue around them and start sucking. 

This almost makes him lose it. He almost halts all his movements as his eyes grow wider than ever. Holy fucking shit. 

“Mmmh.”

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tighter than before, causing him to growl in response. 

“Y-You’re –” he pauses, unable to find the right words as he watches you in disbelief, how you release his fingers and move his hand down to your throat, looking up with glossy eyes. You want him to choke you. 

His sweet ‘innocent’ best friend isn’t so sweet and innocent after all. You’re a closeted little freak. He should’ve known that there was a hidden sight to you. He should’ve known that you weren’t ‘just’ staring at the handcuffs on his wall for no reason. You’re a naughty and dirty little freak. 

He wraps his fingers around your throat, not enough to choke you, but hard enough. The sight of it only turns him more feral. He pounds you harder, letting all the frustrations out from the day and you’re loving every second of it. Both your moans are getting louder and needier. He smashes lips against yours, kissing you roughly and deeply as his free hand slips down your stomach. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs between kisses. 

You wrap your arms around him, closing your legs around his waist, you feel the familiar coil in your stomach again and it takes you by surprise. He presses his fingertips against your clit, making you shudder and twitch, you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive but it feels so good. 

“I-I’m, I can’t believe this is real,” he moans, rubbing your clit. His breath hitches in his throat, knowing that he won’t last any longer. 

You dig your nails into his back, the moment his thrusts get slower but deeper, deeper than before. He tears out whimpers and sobs from you. You have never felt anything like this before. 

He rams inside of you, fingers overstimulating your sensitive clit. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, where do you want me–”

“Inside! Please cum inside of me, Eddie!” 

“Are you sure?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Fuck,” he growls in utter shock and pleasure, he kisses you again. You gasp against his lips, one hand reaching into his curls, tugging at his hair and scratching his back with your other hand when he makes you cum again. He groans so loud against you. 

You’re shocked, confused and in so much pleasure that it makes you cry. How did he make you cum so many times in one round? You didn’t even know that it was possible to have multiple orgasms, you only ever achieved one with Steve, and sometimes not even that. 

He spills inside of you with a loud moan, coating your walls with his seed. He doesn’t move away from you, he keeps kissing you, slowing down his movements. You are twitching beneath him, whining and whitering. 

His heart is beating faster than ever, your walls are pulsating around him as he fills you up with his cum. He whimpers into the kiss. He has never done this before and you are the only one he ever wants to do this again with, in fact, he would do this all fucking night if you let him. 

Neither of you want to stop, neither of you want this moment to end but the lack of air makes you break the kiss. Eddie lets go of your throat and after a few more kisses to your face, he pushes himself up, pulling out of you and letting himself fall on his back beside you but not without pulling you into his chest. 

You are both breathing heavily, both coming from the high. Soft sighs fall from your lips and you keep your eyes closed for a long moment. There’s no thoughts in your mind yet, not doubts, no fears, nothing – nothing yet. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers as he stares at the ceiling before he glances at you, with a slight fear in his chest, scared to see regret in your eyes but instead he sees a lazy smile on your lips. 

“That was –”

“Fucking amazing,” he breathes, finishing your sentence. 

You giggle and it makes his heart soar. 

“Yeah, really fucking amazing,” smile and turn your head, you open your eyes and look at him. Taking in the sight of his sweat coated forehead, the way his bangs stick to his forehead, the way sweat dribbles down his body, the way he is staring at you with awe in his eyes. 

“We should’ve done that a long time ago,” you whisper. 

He raises his brows, eyes lighting up at your words. Eddie knew you wouldn’t treat him like other girls did before, yet the fear still lingered, that you would push him away, that you would regret it but instead, you lean closer and kiss his cheek. 

You keep looking into his brown eyes, unable to fight the smile off your lips after what happened. There is no doubt inside of you, none of it yet, not when he keeps looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

You snuggle closer to him, kissing his chest softly as his hand finds its way into your hair and he starts to play with it gently. 

“Hey sweetheart?” He asks after a moment of silence.

“Yes?” 

“That girl at the bar earlier, she was Jeff’s girlfriend. He was there too, by the way. He was in the restroom when you came in.” 

He tells you this without a hint of smugness behind his words, even though he now knows that you were jealous. He could’ve teased you for it, made fun of you for assuming something and getting jealous over nothing. But, instead his voice is soft, reassuring. He doesn’t want you to feel jealous, he doesn’t want you to doubt yourself. 

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling when he kisses the top of your head.

You lay like this for a while, with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you, just enjoying each other’s company, not wanting it to end just yet. But when the thunder sounds through the night, shaking you both out of your little bubble, you realize how late it’s gotten. You only reluctantly start getting dressed, helping one another with your clothes, all while giggling and stealing kisses from each other. You are trying to ignore the fact that you are very sticky between your legs, though, you don’t mind it for a bit. 

Despite the giddiness that rushes through him, he can’t help but feel a little fear when you both get back in the front. Unlike the drive earlier, this one is filled with music and comfortable silence, even when he’s nervous about what will happen once this night is over. 

If he only glanced at you, he’d see the way you’re smiling, the way your eyes are glowing from all the happiness. 

He is tapping the steering wheel, he feels happy, happier than he ever did but he’s also scared, scared to look at you and see that you have come down from the haze, that you are back to thinking about Steve, that you are regretting it all. 

When he parks the van in your driveway, he takes a deep breath and turns to look at you only to see you staring at him already, with the cutest and brightest smile on your face. His shoulders slump in relief and his heart feels ten times lighter. 

You unbuckle the seatbelt, licking your lips as you move closer to him.

“Hi,” you whisper. 

Butterflies flutter in his stomach. He tilts his head, leaning in, “hi,” he smiles. 

You meet in the middle, closing your eyes as your lips lock. All the other kisses before were rough, passionate, fast. This one is sweet and soft, just perfect and it lasts for a while, even when you try to pull away, Eddie keeps stealing kisses. 

“Eddie,” you giggle. “I have to go, you have to let me go.” 

He cups your cheeks softly, smiling sadly as he leans in again, “I can’t let you go,” he whispers between pecks. “I don’t want this night to end.”

“It won’t be the last, Eds.”

Warmth fills him, his heart makes a jump. 

“Can I come inside?” He asks, not wanting to spend the night without you.

“You already did,” you giggle, making him laugh in surprise. 

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he smirks as he plays with your hair, caressing your cheek, continuing to peck your lips. 

If you knew you could feel this happy, this content, this fulfilled just by doing this, you would have done it ages ago. 

Fear, doubt and all your insecurities, kept holding you back from finding this with him. For once, you took the leap and you couldn’t be any happier than you are now as you sit here and steal kisses from Eddie.

“My mom is home.”

“So? I stayed a thousand times before with your mom at home.”

You giggle, this time it’s you stealing a kiss from him. 

“I know but this is different,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be quiet.” 

His eyes widen. He’s gone to heaven. The girl of his dreams, the girl he loves, the girl he thought he had no chance with, wants him. 

You grab his face, giving him one last kiss before you pull away, “I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome.” 

He stares at you dreamily, love filled with eyes and a smile that he can’t hide. Your hair is a mess, your makeup smudged but your skin is glowing and you look so fucking beautiful. 

You open the door but before you step out, you turn around and kiss him again, grabbing his cheeks and peppering his face with kisses, making both yourself and him giggle. 

“Good night, Eddie,” you murmur against his lips, looking into his pretty eyes. 

He pinches your chin between his fingers, stealing another kiss. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers, smiling at you. You pull back and get out of the van, a small squeal leaving your lips when the rain touches you again, unlike before, you now feel the coldness of it. Eddie laughs when you close the door and start running towards the house, turning around one more time to blow him a kiss. 

Eddie shakes his head with a smile, chuckling as he blows you a kiss back. He waits until you’re inside the house. The moment he sees the door shutting, his smile grows wider and he pumps his fist into the air as feelings of joy rush through him. 

You are barely able to contain the giggles as you quietly make your way upstairs, smiling brightly. Your cheeks are flushed, your skin is burning, your heart and stomach both fluttering. You bite your lip as you silently walk into your room and close the door softly. 

You press your back against the wooden door, you close your eyes and raise your hand up to your mouth, touching your lips that still tingle from all the kisses. 

Another breathless, happy, giggle escapes you. 

You can’t stop smiling. 

You tilt your head up, looking at the ceiling as you think about the way it felt to be kissed and touched by him. Your heart flutters all over again. 

For the first time in a long time, you feel happy again, your heart full of love. 

Though, when you look around the room and your eyes fall on the picture frame in your bookshelf, your smile falls when your eyes lock with the man in your picture. 

Steve. 

Your heart drops a little and your smile vanishes completely. 

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @succubusmunson @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan @sherrylyn628

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 12

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader warnings: language, minor political/bau issues mentioned/talked about, smut eluded to. We've come back to the chapters that jump through moments in time! This is also the time that you read this, then skim through the series and see if you can pick up on the foreshadowing cause next chapter is what it was leading up to lol. I'm going to crack down and fly through as many chapters in a row of this series while writing and queue them for once a week. LMK if that timeline seems okay or if it should be more frequent or less, I wanna continue that habit for new series!

Heather was seated at one of the window side tables at Peacock Alley inside the Waldorf, a coffee and a bloody mary in front of her while she looked through the menu. Her gaze drifted out the window, wondering if she was there too early, if you were running behind or if it was a combination of both. Just as she was about to check her phone for both the time and conformation, she spotted what she was sure was your car pulling up to the valet.

Sure enough, you slipped out of it, passing the keys and a wad of cash over to the worker with a sweet smile before tossing your bag onto your arm and making your way to the hotel entrance. Her head tilted in confusion but before she could really get lost in her thoughts you had rounded the corner into the lobby restaurant, sunglasses pushed back onto your head as you glanced around in search of her. A small smile took over your lips when you spotted her, hurrying over to the table.

“You’re early.” You greeted, placing your purse down on the windowsill as you slipped into your seat.

Heather shrugged, “she got clingy, I kicked her out before she could start begging for room service and the girlfriend treatment.”

You nearly snorted, shaking you head at the other woman, “I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”

“Rob’s out of town, both the kids are on campus, you were occupied so I was bored.” She replied, picking up her coffee for a sip when the waiter came over to start you on your own drinks and you figured you may as well match Heather.

“Thought your go to place was the Conrad.” You asked, settling in as your drinks were dropped off and you could take a couple of sips.

“It is. But she was brand new and I wanted to be cautious, figuring we were meeting here in the morning I made it convenient.” She took a sip of her coffee, a brow raised in your direction, “which is why I’m particularly curious as to why you were pulling up to the valet instead of coming from the elevator.”

“I came from home.”

“Did we not plan to meet here for as little hassle as possible? We could have just met at my place if your date fell through.”

“It didn’t fall through.” Your brow scrunched, not able to get an immediate reply from Heather as the waiter came over to take your orders. You opting for a quinoa power bowl while she went with the mushroom and asparagus omelet.

“Did you change hotels?” Heather asked as the waiter left the table.

“No.” You shook your head, “we were at her place.”

“Oh?” She asked with slightly wide eyes and you laughed.

“Emily’s sick of not sleeping in her own bed. And to be completely honest I was getting bored of hotel life too.” You glanced up to catch the look on her face and you rolled your eyes, “Heather, this isn’t like one of us is some money hungry twenty something who’s going to go psychotic when the other one won’t leave her husband for her. Not everything mimics your life experiences.”

“So you’re not getting all domesticated on me?” She asked with a smirk, “because I need that wild, spitfire woman for work.”

“No.” You nearly grimaced, “we’re still going out for fancy dinners and shit, the sex is just occurring in a different environment and with a plethora of more toys.”

“Mmm.” She replied over a sip of her bloody mary, “so whose place were you at last night?”

“Hers.”

“You stay over?”

“Yes.”

“Careful.” She chided.

“What?” You asked her, your nose scrunching in confusion and she simply chuckled.

“Never mind.” She took another sip of her coffee, “you know… I saw Jackie the other day.”

“Not a surprise considering your line of work.” You replied, hoping the sudden heat on your cheeks wasn’t as present as it felt. “How is she?”

“Had one hell of a hickey on her neck… said she finally got around to having some good fun a couple of weeks ago.”

“Good for her.” You bluffed.

“Huh.” Heather clicked her tongue.

“What?” You huffed, wanting to move onto the next subject.

“Were you too drunk or too horny to realize that it was my main driver who picked you up from the club?” She smirked over the rim of her glass, “and to think you didn’t even bother to call me.”

“Heather it was nearly five in the morning.” You replied dryly, “besides, you always have to be in control of everything, you get power hungry in group situations, dynamic never would have worked.”

“Oh…” there was a devilish grin on her lips as she leant back in her chair, “so tell me then… did they gang up on you or was poor Jackie your little play toy?”

“Please.” You laughed, your voice quieting, “you know that’s what she prefers.”

“Tell me more.” With a smirk, she leant in, her elbow on the table, chin propped up in her hand.

“Absolutely not.” You shook your head, eyeing her up, “but I guess now would be the time to point out that hickey on your neck…”

“What?” Heather’s hand shot to her neck, gently prodding at the skin until she found the sensitive spot, “fucking brat. I told her no marks!”

“And that’s why you’ve got to make better choices.” You shrugged, leaning back in your chair, “I’m careful to not leave marks.”

“That’s because you don’t bite hard enough.” She nearly scowled, digging into her purse to pull out a compact and do the best coverage job she could in the meantime.

You were left laughing, the topic finally diminishing as food was swiftly delivered. Heather, having had enough of being prodded and teased slid the compact back into her purse and picked up her fork.

“How are we doing for next week’s assembly?”

“I’ve got Harris, Tart and Durant set up for speakers, Ashley’s been finishing shirts, banners, badges and stickers and Colton’s been going door to door every day this week.”

“Good.” She took a bite of food, “where are we with backing from Underwood?”

“Working on it. He’s been out of State so often it’s been hard enough to track him or Claire down even for a phone call. I’ll get there soon, I promise.”

“Good girl.”

**

While your dates continued around the city, it almost felt like you had more freedom when you weren’t trying to stay in or near a specific hotel. Dinner or drinks could be closer to your place or Emily’s, wandering the waterfront on the way back to her apartment. While things were a little more comfortable, there were still some unspoken rules that the two of you simply continued to follow.

Emily always made sure the payment was sent to you within an hour of a date ending, whether that be midnight or eight in the morning the next day. You kept your dates limited to weekends, both to keep things on a running schedule and to try and avoid crossing over with work. Staying the night wasn’t required, it never had been in the hotels, especially if one of you knew you had a busy week and wanted a day to prepare for it or decompress from the weekend. There was nothing in the contract about cuddles and sweet dreams, it was about sex, enough aftercare that everyone was alright and money. There were nights you were too wiped to move, falling asleep before Emily could even fully check in with you and there were other nights that once you’d caught your breath, you were dressed and out the door. Emily would admit she did enjoy spending the nights in your bed, but she still missed her own just as much and if she was willing to drive at the late hour, she was pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek and heading home to it.

Some mornings you’d wake up tangled in each other’s limbs and take the time for some lazy morning sex, which usually ended up leading straight into round two, three or more as you fully woke up. Other mornings you would wake up to the sound of the shower, Emily prodding your side what felt like seconds later with a to go coffee cup and you were on your way home straight away.

Coffee was where it ended, there was never breakfast, never brunch or dilly dallying as you talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend. It was a quick shower, a coffee in a cardboard cup and an ‘I’ll call you’ to set up your next date. While you had dinner or drinks most nights, they were had out, it was never homecooked, no dancing around each other in the kitchen while you put together a meal. Bottles of wine were often left forgotten on the coffee table as Emily made a home between your legs, bringing you to your peak over and over again until you were tugging her off you to return the favour.

Emily’s apartment was normally your setting, her toy collection happened to be more extensive than yours and it seemed like there was always something new to discover and play with. It also helped her keep a semblance of control in her mind, you may have been playing this game for months now, but she was still wrapping her brain around exactly how things worked. She was still new to it, learning the ropes as she went and she wanted to make sure she was doing her best. When she was in her own apartment, it was her surroundings, she knew every nook and cranny and felt more relaxed and able to take control.

The lines were still in place, even if there was a change of scenery.

**

Emily heard an all to familiar beeping interrupting her dreams and she rolled onto her side, scrunching her eyes briefly in an attempt to keep them shut and regain whatever sleep she still had left in her. You coffee always auto brewed and most mornings the two of you ignored it if you wanted to sleep in or have a morning session before parting ways. A chill ran through the room and she let out a small shiver, shifting to pull the covers tighter around herself and was surprised at just how easily she suddenly had the entire duvet in her hands.

Begrudgingly cracking her eyes open she looked around the room, it was still dark, sunrise being later and later as the city sunk fully into autumn. Rolling onto her back she was able to assess that you definitely weren’t in bed with her, the bathroom light was off but the fan was on, a likely sign you’d had a shower and started your day already. The second sign being that your pyjamas were strewn over one of the chairs across from the bed, your phone absent from the nightstand.

She knew that you were likely letting her sleep until you absolutely had to kick her out, but the exhausted part of her was really hoping maybe this was a quick thing and you’d come back to bed. She perked up when a light at the bottom of the stairs flicked on, her ears picking up the sound of your voice. Either someone was over or you were on the phone, but either way you sounded far less than pleased.

Letting out a soft sigh she pushed up to sitting, stretching out her body and rubbing at her eyes as she willed herself out of bed and into the cool morning air. She tiptoed quietly over to the door, if you did have a house guest this early, you likely didn’t need them knowing that you’d had overnight company. After listening for a couple of minutes she determined that you were definitely on the phone, there was barely any time for someone else to get a word in and whenever they did, downstairs was silent aside from the pacing of your heels or sound of coffee brewing. Emily crossed the room again, quickly getting redressed and collecting her things, quietly making her way down the staircase to the main floor, finding you with your back to her.

“Patterson I swear to god if you hang up on me— Yes! I already know that. He doesn’t need a parent or guardian if he’s of age. Did he ask you to call her? No. Exactly—What did I just say? Like hell you need to print him! You’re not just toeing the line you’re by far crossing it! Don’t think I know you just want him booked to get your name all over the press, I’ll have your fucking badge.” A slight pause while you pinched at the bridge of your nose, a voice chattering on the other side of the line, “no. Of course I don’t think you’re just going to toss him back out onto the street. Mr. Dalton is already on his way down there to make sure you don’t think about breaking any other rules or laws and believe me I’ll be making a trip down there myself to talk to your Captain.” Hanging up the phone you dropped it to the island, stopping to take a hefty swig of coffee, “fuck.”

You finally turned back to the island, dropping onto a stool and pulling your laptop toward you, movement out of the corner of your eye causing you to glance up, jolting slightly as you realized Emily was on the same floor as you.

“Shit, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” She replied, smiling softly as she stepped into the room. You made a noise, gesturing toward the empty to go coffee mug beside the coffee pot and she took the hint, mixing it to her liking. “Anything I can help with?”

You nearly snorted, glancing up to her, “morally, ethically and legally? No.”

“Oh…kay…” She took a sip of the coffee to make sure it was right before popping the lid on and you let out a frustrated sigh.

“Jordan got picked up for a drunk and disorderly last night.”

“Jordan?”

“Heather’s son.” You grimaced.

“Ah.” She nodded, suddenly more than well aware the severity of the situation, “DUI?”

“Luckily he didn’t get that far. But this fucking prick Patterson… fucking white shield who thinks he’s hot shit…” you grumbled, “he pays paparazzi to follow around teenage and older kids of politicians, especially at bars or parties. Tips them off to whenever he knows security is escorting them, they get the pictures, he gets to swoop in and make a couple of bullshit arrests, they split the bank. He thinks its gonna be his way up the chain.”

“Sounds like a piece of shit.”

“He is.” You mumbled, “and now I get to spend the rest of the weekend putting out fires and trying to keep this out of the press and away from Heather. Lord knows she’ll only lose her shit and knowing Jordan he’ll turn something flammable into an explosion. I—” you were cut off by your phone ringing and you immediately picked it up, “Yeah? I don’t care that it’s only five in the morning, the car is coming to the back entrance and you are to get Jordan into it without a single soul seeing him. Drive him back home, make sure he’s in the guest house, I’ll call Rob.”

Emily picked up her coffee cup, tapping on the island to gather your brief attention, giving you a little wave thank you for the coffee and to let you know she was saying goodbye. All things considered the best option for her right now was to get out of your hair.

**

“Shit, shit, shit!”

Getting an early or overnight call for a case on a Saturday morning was already annoying as is, but this was linked to one of the cases they had been working on that week. Meaning the call was Penelope saying she’d found an out of state connection and everyone was to be at the jet in thirty. While Emily’s go bag was in the car, it only had enough outfits for a few days and the one she’d worn the night previous certainly wasn’t Section Chief appropriate.

“Take whatever you need.” You sleepily waved in the direction of your closet, flicking on the bedside lamp before rolling over and going back to sleep as she began to rummage through your clothes.

Emily made it to the jet just in the nick of time, dropping her bag and managing to grab a coffee and bottle of water before settling into an empty seat across from Tara. She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her, examining the outfit choice and she shifted in her seat, the shirt was definitely a little snug around her chest but it was the best option she could find quickly.

“That’s a nice colour.” Tara complimented, “looks really good on you.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.”

“It new?”

“No,” she let out a semi awkward laugh, scrambling to come up with some kind of fib, “kind of old, figured I’d start cleaning out my closet last night, grabbed the first thing I could.” She shuffled in her seat again, tugging the fabric away from her chest before leaning forward to grab a case file, “what’d Garcia find? Do we know what we’re walking into?”

“Second page.” Tara replied, the corner of her lips curving up into a smirk and Emily could feel her cheeks burning pink, feeling like she was back in high school hiding a secret from her mother.

**

You sped through the doorway to Heather’s office, placing a now lukewarm coffee down on her desk as the check in that you were there before briskly turning around and she barely looked up from her laptop.

“Sorry, traffic on the I-395 was a fucking mess. I’ve never seen so many accidents this early in the morning.”

“It’s getting icy out there.” She replied, her eyes still on the screen in front of her, “turned the heater on in your office, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you.” You replied with a huff, barely making it to the doorway before the wheels started turning in Heather’s brain and she eyes shot up.

“Hold up!” She called and you froze on the spot, turning back to face her, “you live uptown…”

“Yup…” you nodded, feeling the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“And if you were coming from the Waldorf you would have taken Pennsylvania.”

“Yes again.” You nodded, nearly gulping. Heather surveyed you for a moment, her eyes narrowing as her lips twitched up into a grin.

“It’s Thursday…”

“You ever heard of wine Wednesday Heather? Zooz has an incredible happy hour and it’s walking distance from Em’s.”

“Hmm.” Her head titled, “must be a nice place.”

“I have work to do.” You began to turn away again, but she called out once more.

“Speaking of, pick a hotel for Sarasota this morning and Elise will book it.”

“I thought we were going to Laguna?”

“They changed locations, something about the right hall not being available.” She shrugged, “at least Florida’s an excuse for a shopping trip.”

“Huh…” your head titled as a grin broke out on your lips, “I could use a new swimsuit.”

“Could always go without one.” She smirked back and you rolled your eyes.

“Very professional.”

“We’ll have a private terrace.” She replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And here I thought I was picking the hotel.”

“You’ll pick something suitable; cost isn’t a concern.” She shrugged, “I’m not going to be slumming it in Florida for a week and not indulge.” Her eyes flicked up and down your body, “hell, why don’t you call Tony, take the afternoon to get some shopping done.”

“He’d love that.” You laughed as you thought it over.

“I’m sure he’s not the only one.” She replied, tilting the screen of her laptop back as her eyes fell back down to it once again, a smirk remaining on her lips.

**

Girl’s night at Garcia’s always meant a couple of cocktails and when Tara had offered to drive, having to be up early the next morning, everyone was on board. JJ was the first drop off, leaving Emily in the front seat with Tara navigating the streets of Washington.

“What is going on with you?” Tara asked, a small laugh leaving her lips as she glanced over at the other woman.

“What?”

“Your nerves are radiating off you and you keep shifting in your seat like a dog that hasn’t figured out if he’s going to the park or the vet.”

She laughed, “it’s nothing. I just went from not really recognizing the street to realizing I’ve got a friend who lives around here.”

Tara glanced at her watch, “it’s not that late, if you wanna make a pit stop or for me to drop you somewhere, I can do that.”

“No, no don’t worry about it.”

“Emily,” she prodded, “c’mon. I can keep a secret.”

“It’s nothing like that!” She swatted at her hand, “just haven’t seen her in a bit.”

“Call her or I’m pulling over the car.”

“I—what?” Her eyes darted up to the other woman who suddenly pulled into the right lane, “okay, okay!”

Your phone began to buzz on your desktop and you let out a soft sigh, thankful for the interruption as you pulled off your glasses, blinking your eyes a few times as you picked it up.

“Walton.”

“Hey, it’s Emily.”

“Oh, hey!” A smile crept onto your face, “what’s up?”

“I.. uh.. I was just in the neighbourhood, figured I’d see if you wanted to grab a drink?”

This sigh you let out this time was much wearier one that Emily could practically feel, “I would absolutely love to but I’m still at the office and likely will be for a few more ours.”

“On a Saturday?”

“Yup.” You exaggerated the word, popping the ‘p’, “bunch of extra tasks on hand this week and we’ve been spread pretty thin. I definitely can’t go anywhere until the boss does.”

“Shit.” She muttered and you reached across your desk for your agenda, flipping through a couple of pages.

“Looks like I can squeeze you in on Tuesday? Probably not ‘til ten at the earliest and I wouldn’t be able to stay.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it, the usual weekend is fine.”

“Weekend is all conference prep and we fly out Monday afternoon.”

“I would hate to add to your schedule, we can wait until you’re back.”

“It’s fine.” You laughed softly, “lord knows I could use the relief.”

“Alright.” She chuckled, “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“I’ll call once I’m finished up, let you know when I’m on my way.”

“Sounds good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Emily dropped her phone with a soft sigh, sliding it back into her pocket, a sense of relief washing over her when Tara pulled back into the left lane and signalled to make the turn towards her original destination.

“I thought you hadn’t seen her in a while?”

“Huh?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked up at her.

“’The usual weekend is fine’?” Tara raised an eyebrow, “who have you been meeting up with every week?”

“No one.” She fibbed, sinking deeper into the seat of the car.

“Oh come on Emily.” She laughed, “doesn’t take much to realize you’ve been spending time doing something other than work. You actually don’t reply to non urgent work texts on the weekends anymore, better moods Monday mornings…”

“No profiling the profiler!” Emily protested, punching Tara’s arm, “I thought I was getting a nice ride home, not an interrogation.”

“Okay, okay.”

Tara held up a hand in surrender, shaking her head at the other woman as she pulled up in front of Emily’s building. She said a quick thank you and goodnight, pulling out her phone when she was waiting for the elevator. If you were working this late on the weekend the least she could do was send over some dessert as a pick me up.

__________________

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