#and then take my car in for repairs and pick it up when it's done

[shouyuus]

Hiii, I’m the person screaming crying throwing up every time you post, love ur stuff!

Anyway… I’m thinking mechanic!vi prolonging the time it takes her to fix your car just cause she wants you coming around the shop more and then when she does eventually fix it she kinda worries you’re not gonna stay over at hers as often but u decide to ask her if u can move in or smth like this?!?

Idek tbh my brain is so fried from over consuming Vi content

all you have to do is stay

mentions of sex, but no explicit scenes, car mechanic!vi au oh she absolutely would; there's actually so much stupid domestic bliss in this wow

and sure, the hookup was good in the beginning, but she liked it when you came around, liked it when you'd show up at her shop, all shy and wide-eyed, asking her if you could watch, and who's she to turn down such a pretty girl, right? and honestly, she thought it was kinda cute, how you'd try your best to ask her about this or that, and she'd find herself rambling about her favorite kinds of pinon brackets, or talking you through a chassis restoration for another vintage car that was brought in.

it shouldn't take a whole-ass month to rig a crossflow radiator, especially since the rest of your car's actually in pretty good condition, but she keeps on picking out other things to do, insisting that she's already here anyway, sliding out from under the car with a crooked grin, asking you to pass her another cold beer.

but there's only so many things she can make up before it's obvious, even to you that there's not much else to do. so when the day comes, she's quieter than usual, tallying up the extensive list of repairs that she's both done and made up for herself to do (you'd insisted that you at least pay for the major ones, and if the smaller ones came with a dinner-date and dessert in bed afterwards... well.)

"and... i think that's all of it, sweets."

she hands you the receipt, immediately tucking her hands into the pockets of her light-wash jeans. her shoulders shrug up as you look down the list. it's way less than that she should be charging you for, but you peer up at her, frowning at the pinch between her brows and the tension clear in her muscles.

"vi? what's... wrong?"

"ah -- it's nothin' sweets, don't worry your pretty little head over it."

she teeters forwards and back, as if she can't decide if she wants to move closer or back away. but you're already reaching for her, closing the distance between you with your head cocked, your eyes bright and questioning. and she could never resist it when you looked at her like that, so toe-curlingly trusting. as if there wasn't a thing in the world she could do or say to drive you away or upset you.

sometimes, she'd lay awake and wonder if you knew how dangerous that kind of trust is -- how someone less scrupulous would take it and twist it into something foul. but she'd never let that happen -- at least not while you wanted her around.

"violet... we might not have known each other for very long but... you're not a very good liar," you say, reaching up to cup her cheeks, coaxing her eyes back to yours. she laughs -- it's a tiny, helpless sound; it shakes her open in a way that startles even her, the way her whole body wants to fold over you, into you.

"geez, sweets... that's... that's not really fair of you."

she lifts her hand to press them over yours, hands over hands, petaled around her cheeks, and it occurs to her that perhaps this is what it means to live up to her namesake -- violet. you'd said it was a beautiful name the first the she told you what vi stood for.

"you're not really fair either, vi... but that's never stopped you, has it?" you ask, a mischievous glint in your eyes, your lips twisted up on a fox-hole smile.

vi sucks in a breath. something feels like it's clawing up the length of her ribcage and burrowing through the hollows in her chest till she can taste it pitter-pattering at the back of her throat. it takes her a full three seconds to realize that it's her own traitorous heart, beating so strong she can taste it on her tongue.

"fuck."

and then she's kissing you, pulling you to her, fingers harsh and desperate, her touch lingering like month-old grease-stains the way they dig into your delicate skin. you gasp open for her, against her -- you let her tug you into her till there isn't a part of you she can't reach if she wanted to.

the kiss breaks like a dam bursting open, and a few seconds later, she's got you hoisted up on her workbench, wrenches and old receipts scattering to the floor as she slots herself easily between your legs. it's a familiar place to be, after all -- after all this time.

you hiss, fingers fisting in her hair; it's longer now, than when you first met. and she'd be lying if she said her letting it grow had nothing to do with your offhand comment once (over yet another impossible banana sundae) that you liked it long.

"vi -- vi -- please -- you --"

"hm? what is it, pretty girl?"

"you c-can't just try to distract me w-with sex every time --"

and she can't help the grin that hitches over her lips at the way your chest is heaving, your eyes blown dark, the way your thighs shake on either side of her hips. but she can see the flicker of worry in your eyes and her stomach twists with uncertainty.

"i -- i don't --" she tries, but a breath puffs out of her and she sags against you, "it's... just... now that the repairs are done... there's not really much reason for you to come around... and..."

at her words, you heave a sigh that seems much too big and weary for your body, pulling back to fix her with a surprisingly sharp look.

"you really thought i was coming around here to listen to you talk about my car repairs?"

vi does her level best not to pout; hearing you say it out loud, it does sound... a bit childish. instead, she leans forward and digs her nose into your neck, wrapping both arms around you till she's got you cocooned in her chest.

"what? you weren't interested in the new pressure washer i got just so i could get that really stubborn stain off your back bumper?"

you trail your fingers through her hair, letting your nails graze along her scalp. a shiver washes down the length of her back and you giggle close to her ear.

"sure i did... but you could talk about... dunno... your favorite dish rag, and i think i'd still wanna listen -- because i like listening to you talk about the stuff you like... because..." and its your turn to hesitate, her turn to pull back and fix you with a look -- one that's equal parts pleading and disbelieving.

"because what, pretty girl?" she asks, her voice low and husky, a thumb running across the round of your cheek.

"b-because i -- i like you, vi."

your eyes flicker away and color seeps into your cheeks like dye across clear water -- the shade blooming into you till vi's sure there's no color so beautiful as the one that you are now.

"mm... well, thank god for that cause..." she leans in to press her forehead to yours, "i was starting to wonder, what with all the multiple orgasms and midnight munch sessions and --" she laughs as you squawk indignantly at her, your eyes flashing wild and wide.

"t-that's not what i -- you know that's not --"

"oh? so you don't like those?" she asks, the tease now so obvious in her voice that you flush several shades darker. vi thinks she may have to amend her previous decision on her favorite shade of you. and you're outdoing yourself today.

she lets her free hand wander to the bend of your hips and she gives you a squeeze.

"i --" you steady yourself in the solidness of her, reaching down to lace your hands with hers, "of course i -- i like those things too but i -- i like that you're the one doing them to me and --" you swallow; vi tries not to be to distracted by the hummingbird flutter of your pulse as you struggle to find the words, even though both of you know full well by now exactly what you're trying to say --

sometimes, just sometimes, words speak just as loud as words need to. and the actions are just there to back them up.

sometimes, there are certain things that people just want to -- or need to -- hear said out loud.

"i -- i wanna come over even when there's nothing for you to fix... i..." you steady your breathing and vi nearly drowns in the certainty that settles between the pair of you, an ocean full of of unsaid words (the ones that don't need to be said to be understood), drifting like sunlight over shifting waves -- their brightness made no less real by their shimmering reflections in the water, "i guess i just... wanna be wherever you are. like... all the time."

vi's eyebrows hitch; her breath follows shortly after.

"all the time?"

you bite down on your lips, "yeah but... i know it's only been like... a month or whatever --"

"no, no god -- sweets, i -- i want that too -- more than anything -- it's just --" she motions at the shop, and you nod, catching her hand in yours mid-air.

"it doesn't have to be right now," you say, smiling and giving both her hands a firm squeeze.

"yeah?" she asks, a rare quiver to the shape of her voice.

you nod, "yeah." and your voice is just as solid as she needs it to be. you lean in to kiss her, and she sighs open against you, as you've done so many times for her.

"we'll -- we'll make it work," you say, in between harsh, nipping kisses, even as vi groans and trails her mouth along the line of your jaw. you gasp, letting your head tip back, "w-we'll t-take it s-s-slow -- mmngh -- vi!"

vi hums as she sucks a dark hickey into the side of your neck, feeling savage wanting plume open in her chest. she looks back up at you with darkening eyes and a hunter's smile.

"dunno if i know how to take it slow, sweets --"

"w-what about all those t-times you told me t-to wait --" you keen high in the back of your throat as she drops to pillow her cheek to your thigh, flipping up the bottom of your skirt to dig her nose into the damp triangle of your panties.

vi scoffs, rolling her eyes as she glances back up at you with a playful smirk.

"oh fuck you."

you lick your lips, reaching down to sink your fingers into her hair again, pulling just hard enough for the an ache to gather in her belly.

"thought that's what you were trying to do."

vi stands up, pulling you bodily forward till your ankles are linked at the small of her back, her palms holding up the plush of your ass as she walks the pair of you back into the house and up the thin flight of stairs to her room.

it's a good few hours before either of you are coherent enough to talk about any of this again, but by the time you are, the twilight is budding along the far horizon, and vander's texting to ask vi if he should pick anything up on the way back from the bar for dinner.

"you wanna stay for dinner?" vi asks, twisting to glance at you in bed, her face illuminated by the digital blue of her phone.

your pillow your cheek on your hand, "yeah, i'd love to."

"cool, what do you want?" she asks, her eyes turning back to her phone.

you lick your lips, "how about... you ask vander to pick up some tomatoes? i can make one of my grandma's old soup recipes. you have potatoes and cabbage right? and... i think i saw some pork bones in the freezer the last time i was here."

you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, ticking through a mental list of ingredients.

you only turn to shoot vi a glance when you realize that you can no longer hear the rapid pik-pik-pik of her fingers on her phone.

she's staring at you with what could only be called wonder in the halfway dark.

"you... remember what's in our fridge?"

"well i -- there's not much in there --" you say, almost indignantly.

she laughs, shaking her head, "no, it's just -- i didn't think you'd ever notice something like that, i mean, pardon me for thinking that you've never set foot in a kitchen in your entire life, what with you being daddy's little princess and all," she goads, nudging you with an elbow even as you squirm away from her, pouting.

"i'll have you know that i'm actually a really good cook, okay?" you tell her, "when -- when i was little, and my grandma lived with us, i'd help her in the kitchen all the time. and... after she got too old to make stuff... i was the one who cooked for her, because she said it tasted like stuff she'd eat in her childhood so..."

vi shuffles closer to you under the blankets, nuzzling her nose into your cheek.

"and just when i thought you couldn't get more perfect," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you giggle, allowing yourself to be tugged back into her chest.

"i told vander to pick up tomatoes... and to invite silco and everyone else he can round up over for dinner."

you squeak, shooting up, "what?!"

vi grins, pushing up with a soft yawn, "you can't just tell me that you've got grandma-level cooking skills and not expect me to invite my whole entire family, right?"

you tumble out of bed, nearly tripping over your panties, still caught around your ankles. you pull them up, scrambling for one of vi's big shirts to toss over your body as she watches you from the bed with an indulgent smile before swinging her legs off and standing up to pull you back into her chest.

"calm down, sweets -- i'll help you, kay? now, tell me what you need."

you nod, pulling on a pair of her jogging shorts and twisting your hair into a haphazard bun out of your face as you start listing off ingredients, hopping the last two steps onto the first floor landing and fluttering into the kitchen.

by the time vi rounds the doorway, it's to find you with vander's massive apron already tied around your waist, an several pots and pans stacked on the countertop.

"i need three onions, and a head of garlic and... a few bay leaves, if you have them. it's okay if you don't --"

vi fights back a grin (it's a losing battle, she thinks, but it's one that she's considering losing for the rest of her goddamn life if it meant doing this every day with you).

"sure, sweets -- whatever you need."

you nod, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you set to work peeling the potatoes. a few second later, vi pops up from the fridge, frowning.

"looks like we've only got one onion, but i found some shallots... not sure how good they are though... they were kinda shoved into the back." she holds up the bag with a grimace.

you blink at her, and for a moment, vi thinks that you're going to be angry, or at least a bit frustrated. but then, your face breaks into a sweet, helpless sort of smile, and you reach out to take the shallots from her.

"it's okay," you say, in a voice that sounds just a little too much like coming home, and vi has to swallow passed the peach-pit suddenly caught in her throat.

your fingers brush against hers as you point her towards the half-peeled potatoes, and she gets to work without you even having to ask.

you lean up onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to her cheek, your eyes bright as fallen stars when she turns to look at you.

"it's okay," you repeat, smiling up at her with that smile that just might rhyme with forever, "we'll make it work, okay?"

vi licks her lips; there's an entire ocean of saltwater words caught behind the tombstones of her teeth that she does not know how to say. but she thinks, as she looks at you and you turn back to fussing over the one onion and handful of shallots, that you probably know it all anyway.

"okay," she says, before turning back to the diligent work of peeling the potatoes.

[seekingthestars]

i specifically scheduled dropping my car off at the collision center to get fixed tomorrow morning instead of today bc i had some in-person meetings for work and i didn't want to deal with rushing to drop off my car and getting a rental car before going to them

and then it decided to freaking SNOW TONIGHT (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

so now idk if they're gonna open late tomorrow morning and i'll have to call and check and then deal with a rental car in winter weather which sucks bc no one here can drive normally but ESPECIALLY not in winter weather 🫠

[youcancallmeelle]

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay. 

[joonsytip]

All Too Well || Wonwoo

Synopsis: With Wonwoo's dilemma hitting the wall and your perseverance getting stronger, will the events unfold as foreseen or the fate will turn its course?

Word Count: 2k

Third and final installment of Wonwoo drabble series (set in the Withering for You universe but can be read as a standalone drabble series).

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Say Don't Go | So It Goes | All Too Well

It's been a week since Wonwoo has seen you. When he woke up that fateful day along with nothing but the void you, it didn't take him long to recollect the happenings from within the car to his sheets. The slightly recovered bruises on his knuckles and the bloodstains on his bedroom wall are the witnesses of the frenzy state he was in, still is.

The guilt of sleeping with you eats him up. The regret of getting wasted and causing the slip of his true feelings and also his dick into you, makes him wanna get swallowed by the ground. He hates that his subconscious mind was conscious enough to hear your sobs but did nothing to stop them.

Wonwoo contemplates for the whole week that follows. He wonders if he should contact you or let you have your space and contact him whenever you're ready.

He's not clear in head, unsure of what he'd say on seeing you again.

Sorry, it was a mistake. He wonders if he should go ahead with the classic lie and be an entitled jerk, letting you berate him which would gradually help you in letting go those feelings for him.

It wasn't a mistake, I really meant everything I said and did but sorry we can't be together. This seemed too much of truth bombing in a situation where the other party (you) is already hurt beyond repair.

In his mind, he tries several other permutations and combinations but never considers that one way which would save everyone from the headaches and all the heartbreaks.

Everyone can sense the shift, something has definitely happened by the way you have been avoiding meetups and can guess the reason to be Wonwoo. They can't pinpoint exactly but they're sure it started right after that night's party.

"I need you to take everything off your chest while I'm asking you nicely.", your best friend tells you, "My patience has been thinned nowadays and don't make me loose my temper."

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, as you look at her and Seungcheol whose eyes are begging you to comply with his wife because she can indeed be scary.

"Do you want Seungcheol to be gone from here?", she asks, her gaze softening, "It's okay, he won't mind."

Before you could answer, Seungcheol is already off his seat saying, "I'll head back to the office, have some matters to take care of.", and he leans to peck his wife on forehead, "Call me if you need anything and let me know once done, I'll come and pick you up."

After Seungcheol leaves, a comfortable silence falls upon.

"You're already showing.", you say smiling and your best friend mirrors one to you.

"Four months already", she says caressing her protruding belly, "Time flies by, I swear it feels like yesterday I took the test and it came out positive. Seungcheol had cried the whole night, holding me close. Though he has became a lot more sensitive than me.", she adds and looks at you, "But enough about us. I came here just to make you lift some weight off. I could have brought Gyu, but I thought we should have a one to one before letting the guys know if at all you're willing to."

When your gazes meet, you can tell that she already has an inkling because her hunch has always been accurate. So you squirm in your seat and after failing to keep the tears at bay you tell her what had exactly happened in a messy-teary state.

After consoling you, she waits for you to stop crying, blinking back her own tears.

"Are you planning to address this to Wonwoo?", she asks softly.

You shake your head, "He probably doesn't even remember."

"Bullshit." she scoffs, "Are you waiting for him to contact you? Do you want me to talk to him?"

You chuckle with all bitterness, "Yes, I wanted him to contact me but it's been a week already and honestly, I don't even want to see him now because he'll repeat the same words, which are not exactly pleasant to hear. I hate how right headed he is, how all his fears are legit. I wouldn't have done it either."

You lean up to look at her, "Also, I don't want you to talk to him and I'd appreciate it if you can keep this to yourself because we're in the same group and the guys would cause a ruckus if they become aware."

She strokes your hair in a soothing manner and you almost drift off until she nudges you to tell something but you're already dismissing her off, "Don't even think of trying to do anything. I've just accepted my fate, I'll gradually move on."

Another week passes by and Wonwoo thinks he's ready to confront you. He had taken the entire office, everyone in his circle by surprise by taking an entire week off. Seungcheol being an amazing boss and understanding friend easily granted his request in the best hopes of having his friend clear the clouds clogging in his head.

Wonwoo sends you a text asking you to meet him whenever you're free. He clutches the phone tightly in his hands, feet tapping anxiously as he awaits your reply.

When he doesn't receive one after an hour, he's calling you only to be unanswered. Rationality leaving his bones, he keeps on calling your number until it gets recieved and it's an unfamiliar male voice answering the phone.

There's a sharp pang in his heart when he gets to know that it's your blind date who has picked up the call since the phone kept ringing and you've gone to washroom. Though he wants nothing but to rush to whenever you currently are, he curtly ends the call and decides to wait for your reply to his text.

His unwavering gaze directed towards the phone might have worked because he receives a response late at night and he's meeting you tomorrow.

You are unfazed, never once thinking about Wonwoo. That's what you try to tell yourself, that's how you plan to act in front of him. You don't anticipate his arrival at your apartment, that's partially true because you know you're gonna get heartbroken again because even though you want to tie the loose ends, you're sure he's only coming to cut them off wholly.

So you tell your mother who has been nagging you to get married to set you up for blind dates and this time you promised you'd seriously consider them with marriage perspective. Hence, today you're going to another date with someone you know this time and not at all impressed about.

The doorbell rings and you check the monitor to confirm that it's Wonwoo before letting him in.

"Are you going somewhere?", Wonwoo asks as he settles on the couch and you take a seat on the chair.

You nod, "Going on a date with Minjun."

Wonwoo's jaw clenches, his hands ball into fists as he asks, "Kim Minjun? He's a womanizer, Y/N. Didn't you go on a date yesterday?"

You scoff, "And how does that concern you anyway?", your lips curl up, "People can change after marriage."

Wonwoo short circuits at your verbal jab.

"Marriage? How can you even consider Minjun out of all people?"

Your expression turns grim when you say, "If I can't marry the person I love then marriage for me would be just another business deal, another merge to benefit the company, solidify our social status."

Trying to maintain the unbothered facade, you ask, "Why did you want to meet?"

"Why did you leave me alone in the bed?", Wonwoo asks toning down, "When you left, you took all of the warmth with you."

You suck in a sharp breath, breaking the eye contact.

"Within these two weeks I went through all sorts of possibilities from never acknowledging the fact that we slept to being a jerk, dismissing it as a simple hookup to letting you down subtly.", he gets up and walks up to you, crouching in front of you, "But as I pondered over, the only honest answer residing within my heart was not to be a coward anymore and be honest about my feelings, be honest with you."

Your heartbeat quickens, as his hands encase yours, you feel the warmth seep from him.

"I love you, Y/N.", Wonwoo confesses, "Like you, I have also harboured feelings for you for a long time. I cherish every moment we've spent together."

You're eyes go wide, heart constricting in chest. You feel your inners catapulting. You thought you know him all too well to give up upon the possibility of being together but witnessing him stripping bare in front of you is something you've always wanted but never expected to happen.

Wonwoo gently holds your face, voice soft, gaze emitting tenderness when he says, "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for projecting my fears and insecurities upon you. But I have realised that you're worth everything and above. For you, I would fight the world if you allow me to stay by your side."

Rendered speechless, your teary eyes look at him with such anguish that it makes Wonwoo want to beat himself for breaking your heart over and over again.

Moments pass by and you both fall into comfortable silence. You're now seated on his lap, head laying his chest as he gently strokes your hair.

"It won't be easy.", you speak, head still downed, as your hand takes in his, entwining the fingers, "But I'd go to hell and back for you if time comes."

You shift back to look at him, "And I promise to be your shield, if anyone tries to hurt you or Wonseok, they'd have to face me first. I won't let anyone hurt you.", your gaze softens, "All of your worries, fears and sentiments are valid, Wonwoo. But it would be nice if you share them with me from now on because you're not alone, we're in this together. I love you."

Wonwoo swears he doesn't cry easily but your words seem to have opened the floodgates as his loud sobs echo throughout the house.

"Thank you.", he smiles as you wipe his tears and leans in to kiss you.

As your lips graze, the shrill ringing your phone startles you both. You grab it from the couch and the screen flashes Kim Minjun as the caller.

There's a sharp change in Wonwoo's expression as he takes the phone from your hand, putting it on speaker and answering it.

"Uh sorry, who's this speaking? Could you please get Y/N on the phone?"

There's a terse movement in the muscles of his jaw as Wonwoo responds, "I'm Jeon Wonwoo, Y/N's--", his gaze shifts at you, lips stretching in a smile, "Lover. I'm cancelling the date and please don't ever contact her again."

As soon as he hangs up, you tease him, "Lover huh? Since when?"

Wonwoo grins like he's drunk in love, he might as well be, "Since the day, you got drunk and danced on the tabletop after the semesters ended."

You gasp, "What do you want in exchange for deleting this memory?"

He's so lovesick, giggling cutely and being all touchy, "What about making new ones and keeping this one in my vault, sealed?"

Your heart flutters at the insinuation. True to your words, you'd surely fight the world to keep him with you.

And your lover chants all's well that ends well to ending up with you, gratefully with all his heart.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

[haikyu-mp4]

Congrats on the milestone I love your work😸.

Applying with Sakusa, I am organized and a problem solver

thank you very very much, love!! I'm happy to hire you<3

Human error

Sakusa is a regular and finally asks you out, for the now hiring! event

word count; 1087 – f!reader

Every time you got to see Sakusa, the mysteriously handsome volleyball player was accompanied by one or more of his fellow jackals. Their training facilities just so happened to be around the corner from the cafe where you worked and you had recognised him from the posters one of the first times he stopped by.

Sakusa wasn’t sure he’d ever have a chance with you, but he told himself it was even less likely if his teammates were to get involved. No doubt, they would try to play Cupid and ruin his already slim chances as if the prospect of them knowing he had somewhat of a crush wasn’t already embarrassing enough. So he put some effort into little ‘schemes’ that would allow him to talk to you without them.

One time, he left his MSBY jacket on the counter after he picked up his coffee. As he and Hinata left the shop, he put on what he felt was quite the acting performance, telling Hinata “I left my jacket, you go ahead,” before turning around to do so.

He had walked right up to the counter and you perked up when you spotted him, pulling the jacket up from behind the bar in a neat bag. You always wore a mask at work, which he greatly appreciated, but you pulled it down for a second to smile at him after he took the bag from you with a brief ‘thank you’. “You’re lucky I know you jackals and your uniforms by now,” you teased. “Someone tried to tell me it was theirs after they saw you left it.”

“Lucky me,” he agreed, completely abandoning the whole script. Instead, he just bowed and walked away.

Let’s just say, most of his schemes didn’t work out. Human error, one might call it.

Sakusa wouldn’t say he gave up, but he took some time trying to come up with a new plan to approach you. The next time he saw you, it was with the full squad of Bokuto, Hinata and Atsumu alongside him. They were talking loudly, not even lowering their volume when they got inside, which made Sakusa look away from them in embarrassment.

But then you laughed. And it annoyed him so much because he loved that laugh, but he never got close to being the reason for it. There’s one guy in line in front of the four volleyball players, and Sakusa was trying to tune in to your conversation. By now, one or two of his friends had caught on to where his attention lay.

“Would you let me take you out sometime?”

What did that guy just ask you?

Sakusa loudly cleared his throat and didn’t even realise he was moving until he stood in front of you, eyebrows furrowed as he turned his attention to the apparent competition. “Are you done ordering? There’s a line back here.”

You glanced at Sakusa and huffed out another short laugh, then looked back at the guy who had asked you out. “Sorry, I’m not interested. Remind me, did you want whipped cream on that?”

After a deep breath and watching the rejected guy step away to wait for his coffee, Sakusa was happy to find your attention back on him but not as happy about the playful glint of your eyes, even though it suited you painfully well. “Hello there, Sakusa. The usual?”

After confirming with a shy nod, Sakusa looked over his shoulder hesitantly. Atsumu was covering his mouth with his hand to contain his commentary, Hinata gave him a thumbs up, and Bokuto looked happily at the menu boards hanging above them to decide what he wanted to try today.

Sakusa could not believe his luck. Not only did he have to stay late at practice, meaning he couldn’t stop by your cafe before you closed as he planned, but his car also decided to give up on him and stay in the parking lot. He called the repair guy, who said he could be there in the morning, and Sakusa begrudgingly agreed before hanging up. Taking public transport home was not an option if he could avoid it.

Might as well start walking. He stared at his feet while walking to make sure he didn’t step on anything gross, but the slam of a door in front of him made his gaze sharply turn upwards. His feet stopped moving and he stared as you locked up the door.

Is this... destiny- no. Sakusa didn’t want to entertain such childish ideas, but at least it was an opportunity. He hesitated. Should he finally talk to you? None of the other volleyball players were there to snicker or make teasing comments and no other customers could rudely ask you out right in front of him.

You were closing up the shop and it had been a long day. Working at the cafe was amazing, but even you were susceptible to bad days. It didn’t help either that Sakusa hadn’t stopped by, so you did your hair all nice for nothing.

Speaking of the devil, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, making you startle and clutch your key like a weapon. When you saw those brown eyes, you calmed down slightly before tensing up again.

Your mind went back to earlier that day when Bokuto, Atsumu and Hinata had come into the cafe and the trio leaned their elbows on the counter.

“Between us girls, what’s your type?” Atsumu had asked, followed by Hinata adding,

“We’re asking for a friend!”

“Who might be interested,” Atsumu continued after realising that Bokuto had gotten distracted and forgot his line.

“Someone might call him the silent dark type, do you like that?” Hinata added like Atsumu had told him earlier.

“A friend?” you asked, pulling up the top of your mask a little to hopefully hide your cheeks more. They looked at each other and smirked, not giving you a proper answer.

“Could I get a raspberry refresher?” Bokuto asked with his sweet smile, and you clicked your pen more times than necessary before finally getting back into what you were doing.

Now, you looked at Sakusa and the blush seemed to be back. Your mask was hanging off one of your ears and you thought it might be too obvious if you put it back on now to hide it.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you said.

Sakusa seemed to consider his words. “I was going to get something to eat. Would you join me?”

“Gladly.”

masterlist

[sundeathh]

Random HEADCANONS

MASTERLIST

Featuring: Aizawa • Words: 865

CW: Mentions of anxiety, overprotectiveness that comes off as possessiveness, stress and burnout, insecurities, physical discomfort (nausea and mild bleeding), jealousy, potentially toxic relationships, emotional neglect.

Aizawa hates to drive, seriously. He'll likely just let you drive his car when you two go somewhere together (if you know how to drive and don't mind doing it yourself) since traffic makes him stressed. He gets anxious in traffic jams and might even get nauseous if stuck in one. He also tends to speed. If you don’t know how to drive, he’ll still drive for the two of you when needed, but you’ll have to bear with these manias of his and may want to find a way to make him less stressed while driving. 

He often gets overprotective of you. He tries his best not to but his anxiety gets the best of him sometimes, and he may act on it and make you feel like he's being possessive. If you’re more of an independent and self-sufficient person, you might get annoyed by it sometimes too, as it may seem like he doesn’t trust you enough to take care of yourself. That happens when he doesn’t voice out his concerns properly (which he often doesn’t), but in reality, he's only worried and wants to keep you safe.

He’s a devoted partner but may hurt you unintentionally, especially if you’re not good at voicing your concerns out loud too. He benefits a lot from someone straightforward about feelings that helps make it more clear to him.

He likes to sleep with his head on your chest. It makes him feel secure and it's one of the very few things that puts his mind at ease.

Aizawa has a knack for fixing things around the house. Whether it's a leaky faucet or a malfunctioning appliance, he's the go-to person for household repairs, preferring to handle things himself rather than calling a professional. (Once, he fixed the coffee maker that had stopped heating, for which you had already accepted the fate of simply buying another one.)

Despite his gruff demeanor and rough, calloused hands, Aizawa has a surprisingly tender touch. He's adept at giving soothing massages or comforting hugs, which always makes you feel loved and cared for.

He’s not naive, but because of his fierce loyalty and sense of responsibility, he may get himself stuck in toxic relationships if paired with such people. It might take him a while to get out of it and recover, since he may give in to manipulations for feelings of guilt and responsibility. (Even when he’s just being coerced into believing so). Rationally, he notices when he’s being used or manipulated but struggles not to fall into the trap anyway. But when he’s done, he IS DONE for real. ~shit might get ugly. 

Honestly? He likes to be called 'baby' or 'babe'. He gets all fuzzy inside. (It comes from a deeper need to be cared for that neither he knew he had, due to all the stress he undergoes). But he'll never admit that. “Darling” and “sweetheart” also work sometimes.

Likewise, he'll melt whenever you refer to him as "my man." If you're married, it'll also happen with "my husband."

Shota has a sensitive scalp. If you caress his hair in the right spot, he shivers and goosebumps erupt all over him. It is also a trick you can use to make him fall asleep pretty fast.

He's touch-starved. Really. Just give the man some hugs. (He'll shove anyone that's not that one person off, though).

Aizawa is a man who keeps his hygienic needs in check, but honestly, tidiness is the first thing he neglects when he’s overwhelmed with work. He’s not overly messy, but things will start to pile up if he’s working extra hours. Some not-so-obvious things may also end up going unnoticed by him. (He doesn't remember when it was the last time he washed his capture weapon).

Shota tends to bite or pick on his lips when he is nervous or stressed out, which can cause them to crack and bleed a bit. He gets self-conscious about it from time to time and usually doesn’t notice he’s doing it until it’s already bleeding and he feels the metallic taste in his mouth.

He is jealous of his favorite mug and might get pouty even if it’s you who is using it. He’ll try his very best not to let it show. (It is still clear anyway). Leave the poor man’s mug alone.

He is aware of his good looks but he still feels insecure about his worn out appearance. That's why he gets embarrassed easily if you compliment him about it. (Call him handsome or sexy and you'll have a tomato in front of you).

If he had to choose a flavor, he would say bitter, but he has a slight secret sweet tooth. (HE ATE THE LAST PIECE OF CHOCOLATE CAKE).

Aizawa is good at cooking but he prefers to eat the food you make (he always helps you clean up the dishes after dinner, though). However, if you're sick or feeling more tired than usual, he will refuse to let you do either of those things, and you better not defy him when he tells you to sit your butt on the couch and let him cook for the night. 

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[seat-safety-switch]

You may be aware of the concept of “a rental car.” It’s where you go to a store that lives inside the airport, promise to give them some money, and they hand you the keys to a car. When you’re done with that car, you just give it back and you never have to see it again. No oil changes. No windshield washer fluid repair. No welding new body panels into it after driving on a particularly pointy gravel road.

The thing is, this is an incredibly expensive procedure. Before the world broke, even the cheapest rental agencies were gonna charge you more than just flying in, taking a taxi to the junkiest piece of shit on Craigslist, and then signing a fake name onto the title. Cops give you like a week’s leeway on getting it actually registered – even more if you are there for a “business trip” and are wearing Value Village’s finest two-piece Italian-cut dead salesman’s suit. You get to drive a new kind of car, it doesn’t cost you that much, and when you’re done you can just drive it back to the seller’s house in the middle of the night and take a taxi back to the airport.

So, being forced to rent a car during my recent trip to Philadelphia in order to give the keynote speech at the Bad Cars Monthly conference, I decided I would get the maximum amount of value out of my rental. I neutral-dropped the fucker at every light, started a small side business delivering heavy goods for cheap, and did my best impression of Petter Solberg on every even vaguely curvy road I could find. At one point, I took it to a drag strip and put down a weak fifteen-second pass, the transmission warning light shrieking the entire time as I force-fed it a couple gallons of nitrous oxide that I picked up at a shop near the hotel. Never before had a 2023 Hyundai Sonata been thrashed so thoroughly and without mercy, and I can assure you that the lot boys (and ladies) were impressed when I rolled the filthy, used-up chunk of Korean iron into the lot, parked it across four stalls, and threw the keys into a nearby storm drain after yelling “Catch!”

Friends, I cannot recommend that you purchase a new 2023 Hyundai Sonata. I can, however, assure you that I have depreciated this particular unit enough that it should be really cheap at auction.

[amonsteronmaplestreet]

Hi. My name's Seann. I'm writing this plea for myself, for my girlfriend Natalie, and for our guinea pig Edgar (full name Edgar Allen Pig).

Put simply, we are in debt. And at present, we can't get out of it. One these debts is Natalie's car payment, and if something isn't done about it immediately, we will be in serious danger of losing, well, everything.

Our Story

We moved in together about a year and a half ago. It was an exciting time. We love each other, and we were eagerly looking forward to truly starting our lives together. But a run of truly terrible bad luck started darkening our bright future.

First, and perhaps most dramatic, Natalie was trampled by a horse. She recovered, obviously, but the medical bills from her bruised and cracked ribs were a huge financial strain. Then more medical bills piled up less than just two months later: she was in a car accident. This left her car totaled beyond repair, and she ended up having to get a new one.

With her savings wiped out, we needed to work more to make to make up for it, but here's the catch: we both work with dogs. I'm an attendant at a doggie daycare and Natalie a groomer. The thing about grooming is that you need to utilize your upper body strength to lift up dogs and work with them, and with her injuries Natalie had temporarily slow down her work, which meant less money.

Still, we persisted. I ended up begging for money on Ko-Fi to make up the shortfall, but at last we got our apartment and the day of our move arrived. It was at this point, fate crapped all over us once again: when I walked out to my car that morning, it wouldn't start.

In fact, my car had completely broken down. I ended up unable to repair it. In the end, I had to scrap it and rely on the bus to take me to and from work. I have been doing this ever since we moved, and now a commute that should take twenty minutes takes anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half, and requires me to walk a mile every time, leaving me tired and exhausted every day, with little time left over for anything else.

But we have each other. And we have Edgar. And even though it's been a struggle, we've managed to build a life together.

I love her. I love her so damn much. And it kills me that I don't have the money or resources to support her as much as I feel she deserves. No one ever got rich at a doggie daycare. My other source of income is writing, which is even less stable and less lucrative. I've tried. I've tried so hard. But once more I'm here, begging for the generosity of strangers online.

Our Car

My work is directly on the bus route. Natalie's is not. Her job is out in the more wooded part of our area, where public transportation options are few and far between. I may be able to get by without a car, but she absolutely cannot. Her ability to continue working rests on having one.

Like I said, it's been a struggle. But there's been a light at the end of the tunnel. Recently, the owner of Natalie's shop offered her the entire business. She is now, as of just six days ago, the owner of her own dog grooming salon. I'm so proud of her. This is huge!

But just like when we moved in together, some new problem has arisen.

When it comes to dog grooming, right now's the slow season. Natalie's doing her best, but even her most optimistic guesses don't have the business picking up until 2025. We're barely making rent right now, and we've had to take on some extra debt to get by, and in all the chaos and struggling, she fell behind on her car payments.

Now they're threatening to take the car away.

What We Need

So here we are. I'm going to take on more debt, via my Affirm card, to cover what she owes. Or rather, a chunk of what she owes. I'm close to the limit of what's approved for my account. But if Natalie loses that car, then she can't get to work, and her new business will be done for before it ever had a chance.

Which brings us to this. Which brings us to today.

I chose to set the goal for this campaign at $6000. I do not expect to reach it. There are people out there who need the money far more than we do, and I have nothing to offer to anyone who donates. But we'll take what we can get.

We owe $1400 on the car. That's the priority. If by some miracle we can raise that much, I'll be eternally grateful. The remaining $4600 would then go paying off our debts. My pie-in-the-sky is that we can at least get enough to put a dent in what we owe, and lower our monthly payments to something more manageable. By then, hopefully, business will have picked up, and we can devote ourselves to building our future together.

Writing this has not been easy. I feel like an incredible failure. I've failed in providing security to the one I love, and that's always going to weigh on me.

But if any of you reading this can find it in yourselves to ease our burden, then from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Do you long for having your heart interlinked? (Miguel O’Hara x Ai/Hologram! Fem! reader) Part 2

Hiiii! Part two as promised, not proofread. Once again, heavily inspired by K and Joi’s relationship in bladerunner 2049. And there will not be a part 3, but enjoy regardless!

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, Miguel being all mad scientisty at the beginning , Miguel being a bit of a perv at the beginning if you squint, talks about cutting of synthetic flesh, Miguel being a sad and desperate man if you squint a bit harder , Slight existentialism. lmk if I miss anything.

Word count: 2.2k

Part 1

Masterlist

—

“Miguel?”

His shoulders tensed up upon hearing your voice ring through his office, despite your inability to appear in the room, he always got nervous that one day you’ll end up just popping up in the middle of him working on your physical form.

“Yes?” His voice low, thick with concentration as wipes some sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief he had tossed to the side of his desk. Careful to not bump his glasses as he kept his eyes focused on wrapping the synthetic skin around your left hand, apart from the nails, it was the last bit of your arms that needed to be completed.

“It’s currently 2:24 am, you need to rest.”

“Tomorrow is my day off, I’m fine.” He replied, putting down his black marker and removing the faux skin from around the arm, placing it flat on the table as he picked up his exacto knife and began to prepare to slice off the excess skin. He needed to make sure to cut off the right amount, not wanting to cut off too little and having waste parts he could use on the rest of your body, it was almost as if he was vinyl wrapping a car.

“You still planned on going to HQ tomorrow, you need to rest.” Your words were only met with silence. “Miguel I’ll cut the power if you don’t leave that office of yours and go to bed, you’ll be insufferable tomorrow, you're even more cranky when you don’t get enough sleep.” You scolded him, Miguel’s lip twitched upwards at the mental image of your left hand on your hip with the other pointed a finger at him, your coding making non-existent wrinkle lines appear where your brows furrowed together, and next to your lips as you frown at his inability to take care of his own needs without you to remind him.

“Alright alright…” He mumbled, taking in a deep breath before blinking some sleep out of his eyes, you knew him so well. “Let me finish up, I’ll be out in twenty minutes, tops.” Instead of a verbal answer like he was expecting, he got the sound of your hologram being deactivated. Letting out a small amusement exhale from his nose when he realizes that you were physically waiting for him outside of his office door. How cute…

He was able to finish the arm up in sixteen minutes, placing the finished arm next to the other one, from the fingertips to the shoulder, packing them away properly in a briefcase that resembled those a musician would put their instrument in, he pondered on what part to work on next. Should he develop another external body part? Your legs, your torso? You’d be anatomically correct of course because he knows that’s how’d you’d want to be (and not for completely other unrelated reasons), or maybe on one of your internal “organs”, though completely made up of wiring and metal he wanted it to mimic the human body as much as he could.

“Miguel, it’s been twenty minutes.” Your voice apparently brought him out of his train of thought, making him rush to the door before you fulfill your threat of shutting the power, you’ve done it before on him.

“Alright, alright… I’m going…” he grumbled under his breath as he made his way to his room.

—

“I sent Hobie and Gwen to deal with that anomaly on Earth-A145… Jess wanted to speak to you about training for that new recruit you’ll be meeting tomorrow… and we’re gotten the thumbs up on reopening sector 6 again now that the repairs from last week are finished.” You read off your mini report from your holographic tablet, sitting on the edge of Miguel’s desk as you swung your feet as you looked back up at him. You were always in your smaller form around HQ, finding it easier for your system so you don’t get overwhelmed too quickly or easily.

Miguel replied back in a hum, his eyes trained on the screens in front of him, zoning in on watching the two spider-teens take down a Doc Ock variant pressing his lips together as he tries to keep his mind from wandering, he’s been having trouble with that recently. Letting out a grumble when he heard the faint sound of your screen dinging, internally groaning at the conversation you were both about to enter.

“Miguel…” You glanced at your tablet again, “your vitals are off again, Miguel.” You noted as you tapped around, your brows frowning together as you scowl lightly. “They’ve been like that for the past few weeks… did you want me to make an appointment with your doctor?” You asked as you looked back up at him, watching the way his nostrils expanded slightly as he exhaled out from them, shaking his head light.

“No, (Y/N), that’s not necessary.” He mumbled softly, lifting a hand in the air to wave off the concern, making you let out a huff of frustration, before phasing out and reappearing in front of him with a frown and your arms crossed over your chest. Miguel went to wave his hand through you, it passed through your programming as he silently told you to go away, his frown growing slightly deeper when he realizes that wasn’t going to rid of you.

“Miguel, don't start. Ever since a few months ago when you started to lock yourself up in your office at home, I’ve been starting to worry about you.” After your sentence, the tablet dings again, his heart rate, but you didn’t even glance at it as you look up at him.

“You don’t have to say that.” He responds automatically, his go to respond when you express concerns about him or compliment him in a way a human would. It made his heart skip a beat and sink simultaneously. Despite him overriding your original code, you were still meant to simulate romantic emotions. No matter what, that would always still be attached to you, and it didn’t help Miguel’s rapidly worsening pining for you.

“I know, I want to.” You’d always reply.

If only you knew you were the reason behind your own concerns.

“I’m fine, I promise.” He reassured you in a clam yet commanding voice, his hand going to play with the little metal spider figure on his desk that Peter had brought him one time after a mission. Your eyes narrowed towards him for a split second, before going back to their neutral position, your lips twitching up in a smile, you choose to believe him.

“If you say so, Mig.” You said before phasing away.

He let out a small hum, his lips curving upwards slightly as his eyes shifted down to the metal spider. It would be a nice addition to the metal heart he was about to start building…

—

“Morning Miguel.” The sound of your voice always helped put a smile on his face before he even opened his eyes.

“Good morning.” He replied in that same raspy voice he always did, slowly getting up and out of bed to stretch before starting his morning ritual. Groaning slightly as he felt his vertebrae pop back into place.

“I’m already warming up your coffee,” You said as your coding developed in front of him in your full size, watching as he twisted his torso to pop his hips, before going off to his restroom to get ready for his morning. Today was one of those rare days where he was off from his normal day job at Alchemax, and although he never true gave himself a day off, spending those spare days brooding up in his secluded area up in the HQ tower, watching dozens of screens to make sure that the multiverse didn’t collapse under his watch, but today was special, so he had Jess watch over the society for the day.

“Today’s a special day, (Y/N). You know why?” He asked, sipping on his coffee, as he glances at your presence in his kitchen as he waits for his bagel to pop out from the toaster behind you, a plate already waiting next to the cream cheese and a spreading knife.

You just tilted your head to the side, that once-in -a-blue-moon look of confusion crosses your face as you quickly look over his digital calendar for the day in your internal system only to be met with nothing. Because he purposely left it off, just to see that adorable rare look on your digital features. It was written on a sticky note in his home office instead.

January 14, 2099. (Y/N)’s activation date.

That was two years ago now, exactly down to the day. Miguel finally let out a chuckle when you eventually shrugged your shoulders, waiting for him to tell you.

“Today is the two year anniversary of you being my assistant.” He said as the sound of his breakfast finally popping up, you moving aside to get out of Miguel’s pathway despite his ability to phase through you, knowing how he feels weird about it.

“Really? It doesn’t quite feel that long for me.” You comment as you watch him complete his meal before taking a bit out of the still steaming thing of bread, watching the way the cream cheese slowly starts to melt and drip down onto the plate from the hole in the center of the bagel.

The concept of time to you was a thing you really only understood in theory, it felt like almost… a bubble. On the inside was Miguel, or humans in general. They were born, they celebrate each year when the earth does a full rotation around the sky, they grow up, grow old then they eventually die. Everyday they walk up, usually around the same time, go about their day as they attempt to stick to a schedule before going to sleep. Miguel will leave to work around in the morning, stay till afternoon and slave himself away till tiredness seeps itself into his bones or until you nag him to sleep. Whereas for you, you just kind of… woke up one day for a lack of better words, not how Miguel does though, you don't get tired, you don’t need to rest. Sure, you could overworked your system, you “sleep”, but sleep for you was when you weren’t being useful to Miguel, it’s almost like how you’ve read up how humans experience sleep, expect when they’re minds become free to dream about whatever their hearts long for during their R.E.M cycles, you just become enveloped in nothingness. There is no pitch blackness, no foggy stretch of infinite void for you to wander. Just that, nothingness, and just like humans forget 90% percent of what they dream of at night, you forget what it feels like when you are temporarily shut off. Despite living outside of that bubble of a timeline, you attempted to mimic it when you could, just to indulge yourself from time to time. For him, it felt exactly like those 730 days had passed, to you only a few rips of the fabric of time and space. Time was a man-made concept after all.

Miguel has noticed you’ve been using the word feel more. Despite your lack of a psyche, it felt like you were only growing more sentient by the day with Miguel’s help, on occasion encouraging you to come up with an original thought or opinion when he could coax it out of you.

“It has.” He continued as he finished his breakfast, placing the dirty dishes in the skin and the food items back where they belonged in the fridge. “And, I got you a gift.” Your face returns to that wonder, making Miguel’s lip curl up into a smile.

“You did?” You asked as you watched Miguel leave the kitchen with a response, waiting a moment to see he’d come back, going to zap to his location when he didn't, only to be met with the sight of his office door instead. Frowning as you wait for him.

The frown quickly became replaced with shock when he finally opened the door only to be met with the sight of you, it was you in the form of a robot. You slowly bring your hand out to go and touch it once he brought it through the doorway, your holographic form glitching through your new physical one as you pass it through your face. Bright wide eyes going from it to Miguel as he speaks again, a soft smile covering his features as he looked down at it with pride, your robotic form, eyes closed, head dropped down in front of you and arms hanging loosely by your side, the same way moments before you were first were booted up two years ago.

“You can use it around the house or whenever you feel like when you want to accompany me on non-Spider-Man related errands. Around HQ or during my patrols though it would be best if you stayed in your digital form.” You stayed quiet as your hand ghost over the fabric of your outfit, he even made sure to replicate the one you’d always wore. He cleared his throat as his eyes shifted to you. “Did you want to try it out?”

“Please.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Loyalty Rewards Program

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 9204 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, top Hob, bottom Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, Hob matches his freak, Bossy Dream, Agreeable Hob, Service Top Hob Gadling, Enthusiatic Bottom Dream, Dream is Not Quiet in bed, there is a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet at one point, blatant disregard for typical human refractory periods, rimming, anal sex, felching-adjacent, inconsequential ingestion of lube, effusive endearments, dirty talk, overstimulation, anal fingering, help my hookup is growing feelings

Notes: Third in the Turbo Lover series (Customer Service and Every Nerve Alive on Tumblr, if AO3 is down). This one happened because Dream was insistent on getting properly fucked in the garage and I refuse to be the author who uses engine grease or motor oil for lube. This fills the free space (B2) on my @dreamlingbingo card, and is also the longest Sandman fic I've written to date.

Summary: Dream comes back to Matthew's Motor Repairs the next day and Hob gives him everything he asks for

On AO3 Hob re-locks the door as soon as he's ducked inside the shop the next morning; he's not opening for people today.

He has other obligations, after all.

He first makes a thorough job of cleaning and sweeping the floor around the Porsche. Whatever the plan today entails, he doesn't want to wind up kneeling on a bit of gravel or taking a stray hex nut to the arse cheek while he's fucking his rich admirer. Granted he may need to do a quick spot-sweep when Dream shows up—if Dream shows up—since he'll be working on the car in the meantime, but doing it now will make that faster.

…Of course Dream's going to show up, Hob's not worried. Guy was thirsty as fuck yesterday, he'll be back. He's got a car to pick up, after all, and speaking of, Hob had best make sure it's ready.

He strips out of his clothes and dons his coveralls nude, leaves them unzipped to the waist, not even bothering to keep his underwear today. It's cooler than yesterday but still plenty warm, and this will make things faster once Dream shows up. He's pretty sure Dream will appreciate the aesthetic, also.

Hob whistles to himself working under Dream's Porsche, finishing up the clutch replacement that he hadn't quite been able to focus on after Dream left yesterday. It's quick work to wrap it up and he makes sure to let grease smears accumulate on his arms and maybe he deliberately puts a couple of artistically-placed smudges on his chest, for fun.

With the clutch done, he moves on to changing the oil, flushing and refilling the other fluids, and giving the car a general tuneup. The Porsche is a beautiful machine and Hob's thrilled to have the chance to work on her.

He's thrilled to have the chance to work on her owner, too.

When the shop bell rings, Hob's heart leaps. He's just got the car all closed up and down from the ramps and done another quick sweep so assuming that's Dream, and it should be, his timing is perfect. He winds his way to the front, zipping up his coveralls just in case and opening the door.

Dream is there on the other side, as breathtakingly gorgeous as Hob remembers. "Am I the 'special circumstances'?" he asks, coy and smouldering as he taps the handwritten sign Hob had pasted in the window—Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances; ring if you have an appointment.

"The specialist of circumstances," Hob agrees, effervescent joy and lust bubbling up inside him, spilling into his smile. "Closed up so I'm all yours. Entirely at your service."

"Wonderful," Dream purrs, stepping through the door. "For I am desperately in need of the services of a good mechanic."

Hob pulls the door closed after him, ensures it's latched in and that it's still locked, then turns with a grin. "You've come to the right place then, love. I'm at your disposal, one hundred percent, and I will personally see to your complete satisfaction. Guaranteed." He winks.

Dream steps in closer, tilts his head just enough to gaze up heatedly from beneath his lashes, toys with the tab of the zipper at Hob's collarbone. "Do you offer such comprehensive personal service to all your customers?" He's slowly drawing the zip down as he speaks.

Hob's heartrate picks up and his breath goes a bit short. "Oh no, this comes special with our uh, our loyalty rewards program," he manages, with his best charm-the-customer smile. The dainty fingertips unzipping his coveralls are very distracting.

Dream stops once he's exposed Hob's chest hair, rakes his nails through it lightly, skirting the grease smeared above it. "But this is the first time I have brought my patronage to your shop," he counters, with the prettiest little pout.

Hob shakes his head. "See I count twice; you tried out my services yesterday and found them satisfactory enough to come back today. And I'm very sure, if I meet your exacting standards, I can earn your repeat business. So I'll opt you in, because I have that much confidence in the quality of my work."

He's mixing his references clumsily, the car repairs and the sex getting muddled together, but Dream is smiling all the same. "Let us hope your confidence is not misplaced, then," he says, voice dipping lower in that way that makes Hob's stomach tighten delightfully. "I should hate to be granted such privilege unduly."

With that, Dream draws the zipper down more, then turns and steps away, casting a come-hither glance over his shoulder as he sashays toward the door into the garage. Hob, unzipped to the waist and hard already, is hot to follow, but first—

He tears the sign from the window, hangs the normal 'Closed' sign in its place, double-checks the lock and throws the deadbolt for good measure. He rounds the reception desk and logs into the phone system, makes sure the auto-answer is set to the 'closed unexpectedly' option, and sets the ringer to after-hours so it'll go straight to messages instead of ringing through. Not that he'd be stopping in the middle of whatever they're about to be doing to answer the phone, but this way they're guaranteed no distractions, no interruptions. Then he hurries after Dream.

Dream is completely naked when he gets back to the garage, leaning pale and pretty and barefoot against the side of his Porsche with his arms loosely folded and his cock hanging ready, half-hard, beautiful.

"Well hello, gorgeous," Hob says, unabashedly enthusiastic as he approaches, wondering if he's meant to just dive in or wait for a cue, if he's allowed to pull Dream into his arms and start with a kiss. His gaze falls to the delicate arches of Dream's feet, the soft pale curves of his toes (with black-painted nails!), and he's really glad he swept up first.

"You occupy my thoughts incessantly, Hob Gadling," Dream says, pushing off the car and stepping close to Hob again, hands reaching to toy with the open edges of his coveralls.

"Do I, now?" Hob decides on a caution-to-the-wind approach and snakes an arm around Dream's waist, raises a dirt-stained thumb to brush over his cheek. Dream hadn't hesitated yesterday to say what he did and didn't want; Hob will trust him to do the same today. "They're good thoughts, I hope?"

"Very," Dream breathes, gripping the coveralls, tugging marginally; his eyes are dark, his pale cheeks faintly flushed with excitement, his pretty pink lips slightly parted, and Hob sees no reason to resist the temptation presented.

The noise Dream makes when Hob kisses him is soft, eager, encouraging, and Hob presses closer, lets both hands play over Dream's bare skin, up and down his spine. Dream is kissing back, heated and insistent; he slips both hands inside Hob's coveralls, around his waist and down to grasp his arse cheeks, squeeze appreciatively, pull him closer.

Hob breaks away with a gasp, delighted and impossibly turned on; Dream squeezes again, nips at the scruff on his chin. "You are not wearing any underwear today, Hob," he murmurs, in a tone of pleased discovery, and Hob can't help grinning.

"Thought you might appreciate it," he says, breathless, hands stroking up and down Dream's biceps, leaving faint smudges behind. "Makes things a bit faster, easier—"

"And are you easy, Hob Gadling?"

"Only for you," he answers, which is truer than it would have been two weeks ago. "God, you smell good today—" He really does, floral-herbal freshness wafting from his hair, faint notes of soap and a light cologne lingering on his skin; Hob lets instinct shape his words. "So clean and pretty, too; come down to the garage to get properly dirty, have we?"

The way Dream shivers against him tells him that was indeed the right thing to say.

"Perhaps," Dream replies, and squeezes Hob's arse again. "I very much appreciate your wardrobe choices, in that regard." He brings his hands around front, one dipping to cup Hob's dick while the other draws the zipper all the way down underneath.

"Thought you might," Hob manages, while Dream's slender fingertips touch his balls, stroke with gentle pressure, and then Dream is moving, grasping at the shoulders of Hob's coveralls and pushing them off.

"I would feel you, bare, against me," is what he says, which sounds like a fine idea to Hob. He struggles briefly with the rolled-up sleeves but as soon as his arms are free Dream is in them, pressing up against him, kissing him fiercely and completely derailing any attempt at getting the coveralls all the way off.

Fuck it, Hob decides, letting them just fall around his legs as he wraps Dream close and kisses him back, hungry and insistent to match Dream's fervor. He backs him up a step, two, until Dream's narrow arse hits the Porsche again and he squirms prettily, his cock nudging up against Hob's as they break the kiss, panting.

"Over the bonnet then, love?"

Dream shakes his head, an effortlessly imperious little gesture. "I wish to ride you, first." He gestures to the creeper. "Please."

Clearly, clearly Dream's got some very specific fantasies about cars and mechanics and Hob is delighted that he gets to help make them happen. "Absolutely," he grins, shuffling down into position on the board.

Dream grabs a condom and a bottle of lube from where he'd stashed them between the windscreen and the bonnet and drops next to Hob. Which is just as well since Hob's supplies are with his clothes in the locker on the other side of the garage; he leans back on his elbows as Dream tears open the condom and rolls it onto him.

"You've got such pretty hands," he breathes, shivering at the glide of Dream's touch along his shaft, and doesn't miss the breath Dream sucks in at the compliment. "Gonna show me how you use those fingers to open yourself up? Or do I get to do that for you, hm?"

"Neither," Dream answers, rising and turning to lean over the side of the bonnet, which confuses Hob for half a second until he speaks again.

"Spread me open," he directs, and Hob is only to happy to sit up and comply, to see the greasy smudge of his fingerprints smeared on Dream's lily-white arse—

Dream is wearing a plug.

Hob's libido, already cranked to eleven, ratchets up another notch. "Oh, fuck," he breathes reverently, wide-eyed. Dream had put that in at home, had come here sitting on it, walking with it inside him, just to be ready for Hob's cock?

Christ, but that's hot.

He watches raptly as Dream's slender fingers grip the wide base and start pulling; he takes his time and Hob gets to just hold him open and watch as Dream's hole slowly stretches around the flare of the thing, bigger and bigger until it finally passes the widest point and slides the rest of the way free, and the hungry little sound of relief Dream makes as it comes out makes Hob's dick ache.

He desperately wants to slip his tongue in there, wriggle it into the shrinking gape and let Dream's body close to grip snugly around him, but Dream is a man on a mission, and that mission is getting Hob's prick inside him. He straightens up, turns and straddles Hob, fingertips to Hob's chest pressing him down as Dream squats over his lap. He drops the plug aside, reaches behind to take Hob's slicked-up rubber-wrapped cock and guide it into his body as he comes down, and the sound he makes plus the tight warm sheath of his arse have Hob absolutely riveted.

Dream lifts himself, thighs straining and hand firmly on Hob's chest now, fucks himself up and down on Hob's prick while hovering over it, letting out the most decadent moans each time he sinks onto it. He'd said he wanted to ride Hob but he's only made it as far as squatting, like he's so desperate for Hob's cock he can't even wait to get all the way into proper position for it and Hob (and his dick) definitely feel some kind of way about it. Dream's own prick bobs stiff and eager in front of him, a little drop of fluid glistening at the tip already, and Hob almost wishes he was enough of a contortionist to get it in his mouth. Later, perhaps. Right now he's got this gorgeous creature pistoning eagerly on his cock and well on his way to losing his mind, from the sound of it.

Hob spreads both hands over the tops of Dream's thighs, feeling how they tremble with exertion, and finally draws them down, forward, coaxing Dream out of his squat and into a proper kneeling position. He shifts his grip to Dream's hips and pulls him onto his cock at the same time, all the way down until he's buried deep up inside and Dream is panting the breathiest little 'yes, yes, yes's as he bottoms out, eyes wide and glazed. His hand is still planted on Hob's chest and Hob takes it up carefully, draws it to his mouth and kisses Dream's fingertips; Dream whines, gaze sharpening and honing in on Hob's actions. Hob's lips brush the pads of those fingers as he speaks.

"Did you still want to ride me, darling? Or should I hold you still and start fucking up into that pretty little hole?"

Dream shivers, makes another needy little noise and draws himself up on Hob's cock, sinks back down, does it again, and again, faster, harder, until he's panting breathless moans on every pass. His hands are planted on Hob's chest, up near his shoulders next to the grease smeared beneath his collarbone, and Hob rests his hands at Dream's hips, ready to take up the slack if he's needed.

Dream rides like a pro, to be honest, finding his rhythm and moving steadily in pursuit of his pleasure. His arse is snug and hot and slick, his voice like a song as he glides so easily up and down on Hob's prick; he feels amazing, and Hob has to remind himself to breathe as it goes on and on, to keep a rein on his own pleasure until Dream's gotten everything he needs.

At last Dream's pace begins to falter, his panting moans stuttering into broken little whimpers as he flags in his feverish bouncing. "Hob," he whines, arse wriggling lower, his fingers clutching at Hob's chest hair. "You feel. So good, inside me—"

"Do I?" Hob breathes, fingertips brushing over Dream's flanks, and it's weak, so weak as far as dirty talk goes but he can't help it. He's enamoured, struck senseless by how into this Dream is, and words are failing him.

"Yes—" Dream squirms forward and back, circles his hips beneath Hob's attentive grease-stained hands, moans prettily. "Hob, please—"

He doesn't even have to specify, it's clear enough what he's after now, and Hob moves to grip him properly, to lift him just slightly. He clutches tight, fingertips digging in to what little meat there is on Dream's arse, plants his boots on the concrete floor and thrusts up into him.

Dream cries out, clenches his fists on Hob's shoulders and throws his head back, chest heaving. Hob draws out and thrusts again, full force, and again, and Dream shudders, gasping, delighted. "Hob—yes—yes—" He squeezes tight around Hob's prick and groans, drops his head to meet Hob's gaze with fever-bright eyes. "Fuck me—I want—"

"Tell me," Hob breathes, mesmerized, shifting his feet for better leverage and thrusting into him again, and Dream warbles beautifully.

"Faster. Deeper—as hard and as deep as you can, Hob—!"

"'Course, love," Hob gasps, hips moving to comply with barely a thought, and Dream's voice rises into a long keening wail as Hob gives him precisely what he's asked for.

"Yes—yes—yes—!" He tosses his head back again, the arch of his throat working beautifully as he chokes out 'yes' after 'yes', arms stiff and trembling, hands still braced tight on Hob's shoulders.

Hob grunts with exertion, pounding up into Dream with everything he's got, thighs damp and sticking slightly where they press against Dream's. He's transfixed by the rapture in Dream's face, the sheen of sweat on his neck and chest, the stream of noises coming out of his pretty mouth; he looks and sounds like having Hob's cock in him is the best thing ever, like it's everything he wanted, and Hob is fast falling in love with how expressive he is about sex.

Dangerous thoughts, those; he puts them far away, concentrates on pumping hard and fast and deep up into Dream's lovely arse to make him come. He's careful still not to come himself; Dream has clearly got plans and it's his job to stay hard as long as Dream needs his cock.

"Hob—Hob—ahh, don't stop, Hob—!"

Hob squeezes Dream's arse, spreading his cheeks just a tiny bit more, and shifts the tempo down slightly, fucks up into him long and smooth, deep, steady. Dream wails, lost in the pleasure of it, and droops suddenly to lay over Hob's chest, a graceful fall into an open kiss interspersed with Dream's panting and whimpering. Hob shifts his hips to accommodate the changed angle and Dream sobs into his mouth, needy, desperate. His prick is nestled against Hob's belly, wet at the tip, hot and hard and Dream is moving helplessly as Hob fucks him, rutting through the hair on Hob's stomach in little jerks. He's tense in Hob's arms, trembling, skin damp with sweat all over and Hob thinks he could do this forever if he had to, fucking this gorgeous creature curled atop him but he doesn't have to, he knows, he can tell, Dream is nearly there—

Dream goes rigid abruptly, breath choking in his throat as his mouth opens wider, still meshed to Hob's. A high thin sound trickles out of his throat and Hob laps it up, fucks into him once, twice, again, and then Dream convulses with a wail, wet warmth blooming on Hob's belly. He buries himself as deep into Dream as he can and holds it there, flexes against the rhythmic clutching of Dream's arse around him, kisses Dream through the tremors and pulses of orgasm until he goes limp.

He spends a moment petting up and down Dream's spine then while Dream lies boneless atop him, catching his breath. He's still warm and tight around Hob's dick, perfect and tempting and—

And heavier than he looks, honestly; Hob shifts to take him by the shoulders, lifts him off his chest just a bit. Dream takes the cue, raises himself somewhat, blinks the haze from his eyes as he meets Hob's. The smile on his lips quickly sharpens to something simmering with heat, but Hob saw. He saw that glimpse of softness, the glow of bliss on Dream's face and he feels the way his heart trips, knows he's losing his battle.

There's a faint smudge of grease on Dream's forehead that probably came from Hob's collarbone and his dick twitches to see it. Dream shivers and squeezes around him and Hob sighs, a full and happy sound.

"You're pretty when you come," he says, gathering his wits about him again. He smears his hand through the mess on his stomach, picks up a little grease from just beside it, reaches to cradle Dream's face. "So, so pretty." He strokes his fingers back through Dream's hair, leaving a faint black smudge and sticky colorless smears on his cheekbone and more than a trace of filth in his hair.

"Only when I come?" It's a tease, accompanied by a gentle squeeze around him, and Hob shivers.

"'Course not," he murmurs, flexing his dick in response, delighted by the shiver that runs through Dream in turn. "You're pretty when you're bouncing on my cock, too. And when you tell me what you want me to do to you. And yesterday." He flexes again, warming to the topic. "You looked so pretty yesterday, with grease smeared on your face and my prick in your mouth."

Dream makes a pleased sound, squeezes his arse around Hob again, and Hob is more than ready to carry on, if Dream is. He strokes his thumb over the tacky mess on Dream's cheek. "Can I dirty you up some more, beautiful? Make you come for me again?"

"I should be very disappointed if you did not, Hob Gadling," Dream purrs, and there's that imperious little smirk again, the one Hob is already too attached to.

He'll give this man whatever he wants, and love every second of it.

"What next, then, sweetheart?" He's slowly pulsing up into Dream now in unhurried rhythm, too leisurely to be called fucking but ready to pick up the pace in a heartbeat. "Keep going like this?" The creeper is getting a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, and he wouldn't mind getting up off the floor but if Dream's not done yet he'll tough it out.

"No." Thankfully Dream sits all the way up, wriggles deliciously on Hob's cock, bottomed out and heavy-eyed with the pleasure of having it so deep inside him. "Next, I would have you—ahh—" He squirms, back arching, mouth falling open as Hob gives in to the temptation of dragging the rough grease-stained pad of his thumb over one pristine petal pink nipple. "Bend—bend me over the bonnet. Fuck me until I scream—Hob—!" He's panting as Hob caresses the tender little bud of flesh, writhing as if he could take Hob any deeper.

Hob shivers. "Fuck. Alright. As you wish, you precious beautiful man—" He lifts Dream's hips, lifts Dream off his cock as he sits up, then wraps one arm under Dream's narrow arse and heaves them both up with a grunt of exertion, his other hand braced on the car for support. It's awkward as fuck with his coveralls still wadded about his ankles and he can tell already his back and thighs are going to hate him for it tomorrow, but it's entirely worth it for the arousal that flares in Dream's widened eyes, the way he clings and wraps his legs around Hob, the way he surges in to kiss Hob again.

Hob shuffles round the front of the car using his one hand for guidance while Dream devours his mouth, and carefully lowers Dream onto the bonnet. He knows it's not the position Dream was looking for but he can't help slipping his cock back into him like this, when Dream is still wrapped around him and ripe for the plowing.

Dream breaks the kiss with a reedy little whining noise as Hob nudges inside him and sinks deep; he claws at Hob's shoulders and draws his legs back, open and practically begging and alright, okay, Hob can give him a good minute like this first, fucks into him in soft smooth rhythm. Dream's pretty pink cock is stiffening up again already, laying thick and half-filled against his belly and jolting with every thrust; he's panting open-mouthed, the sweetest little sounds falling out of him each time Hob pushes in.

"You're gorgeous like this too," Hob gets out, needing the talk to divide his focus, to keep himself going without risk of finishing. "So eager, so open, so fuckable—" Dream shudders, biting off a deep whine at the word, leaned back and still hanging onto Hob's shoulders for support, feet braced on his hips, and Hob zeroes in on his advantage. "Has no one ever called you that before, sweetheart? Fuckable?"

"None I would care to hear it from," Dream moans, pulling himself up closer, disrupting Hob's rhythm. "But. From your lips. It sounds like a benediction—" He kisses Hob, tongue plunging into his mouth, arms wrapping tight behind Hob's neck. His legs shift also, wrapping back around Hob's waist and he pulls himself close, up off the car as Hob gets his arms quickly underneath to support him.

"Give a bloke an ego, talking like that," he gasps, when Dream lets him up for air.

"It's well-deserved," Dream counters, nipping at his lower lip and shifting his weight so that Hob steps back to keep them balanced. "You are exquisite, and talented with your dick, and I wish to be so deeply and thoroughly fucked over my car that I will still feel you inside me tomorrow." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's mouth and unlocks his legs from around him, lets Hob set him back on his feet.

"Do you need a refresh on your lube first?" Hob gasps, mindful of what they've already done and what Dream still wants from him and the serviceable life of water-based lube.

Dream pauses, considering. "Perhaps," he says, with the restlessness of someone eager to get back into action but recognizing the wisdom of the question regardless.

Hob leans around him and reaches, snags the lube off the bonnet. "Let me slick you up a bit more just to be safe." He glances at his hands, perpetually stained and still dirty enough to leave smudges on Dream's skin. "Or you can, since your hands are cleaner?"

"Yes," Dream agrees, taking the bottle and squirting some out. He reaches behind himself and Hob gets to watch his face flicker through half a dozen little expressions; he's clearly moving for function over pleasure but there's enjoyment to be had all the same, from the look of it.

"There." Dream straightens as he finishes, eyes Hob with new heat in his gaze. "Are you clean."

"What?"

Dream narrows his eyes, clearly conveying both horniness and impatience in equal measure. "I am clean; I test regularly. I want your come inside me. Are. You. Clean."

Hob's libido flares, wildly. "Yes. Fuck. Yes, okay." Caution to the wind, and all that.

Dream reaches down and removes Hob's condom, drops it aside and picks up the lube again. He slicks up Hob's cock, kisses him fiercely while doing so, then turns and drapes himself over the bonnet of his Porsche and lifts up on his toes, arse presented. "Fuck me," he demands over his shoulder, breathless and eager like he hadn't just come bouncing on Hob's cock not ten minutes ago. Insatiable. "Hold me down with your work-dirtied hands and fuck me—"

Hob doesn't need to be told twice. He lines up and pushes in, bare slick and easy, all the way to the hilt. Dream makes the most appreciative and desperate little moan, wriggling backwards; Hob grabs his hip with one grease-stained hand, plants his other in the middle of Dream's narrow back and fucks.

Dream cries out, high gasping breaths punched from his lungs with every thrust and Hob just revels in it, moving in sure and steady rhythm. It's easy, so easy, smooth and slick and so good, and Dream's enthusiastic response is—it's heady, to have someone react to him this way, to want him this much, and he'll do everything he can to give Dream what he wants, to make it worth it. It's no hardship, far from it.

"Your arse is so hot," Hob pants, "so tight, absolutely perfect. Can't believe you wore that glass plug here so you'd be ready to get plowed." He grinds his hips deep in emphasis, draws out a little and relishes the way Dream whimpers when he slams back in. "Sweet of you, though. Did it turn you on, sitting on it in the cab? Feeling it move inside you when you walked? Were you horny and eager the whole way here, darling, stuffed full with your toy and imagining my prick in its place?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Dream cries, as much an answer as it is interjection. He's thrusting backward as best he can in Hob's hold, eager and desperate, and Hob keeps fucking, keeps talking.

"I loved watching you take it out. Your beautiful hole stretching bigger and bigger around it, how open you were after. Wanted to stick my tongue in there, sweetheart, wanted to eat you out, make you squirm."

Dream is gasping, wailing, trembling where Hob pins him to the car, head tossing, breath heaving under Hob's steady hand. His cock is surely leaking a mess all over the bonnet; Hob'll have to clean it for him again when they're done.

"You've got the prettiest little hole I've ever seen," Hob continues, steady and unflagging in his rhythm. He leans back, drags both hands to Dream's arse cheeks and squeezes, spreads them so he can easily see himself sinking in, his naked prick pushing and pulling at the puffy pink rim of Dream's hole again and again. He slows, savoring the sight, and Dream whines, clenches around him as he presses back in. "Absolutely beautiful," Hob breathes, thumb moving to stroke over the delicate skin stretched tight around the girth of his prick. "Exquisite. I'm so lucky I get to ravish it."

He knows on one hand he sounds ridiculous as he picks up the pace again, but on the other it's doing the trick on both counts—distracting him from his own pleasure to draw it out, and driving Dream higher at the same time.

And Dream is absolutely being driven to the heights of pleasured madness, that much is clear. He's writhing on the bonnet under Hob's steady pounding, fingers clutching futilely at the glossy surface, skin flushed and sweat-damp and sticking to the car, ribs heaving. And the sounds coming out of his mouth? Good god, he's noisy, so fucking loud and it's not like Hob doesn't love it, not like there's anyone around to hear or any other reason to hold back. It does great things for his ego, the way Dream's wailing like he's never been railed this good in his life, but Hob's got an idea and his instincts say it's spot-on, so he goes for it.

He claps his hand—still grimy from the tune-up, still a little tacky with Dream's come—he claps it gently over Dream's mouth, stifling his volume, and Dream jolts, then goes wild. His head goes all the way back, giving Hob easier coverage; his breath comes short and sharp through his nose, faster and faster in time with his cries that go higher and shriller, muffled by Hob's not-exactly-clean hand. His body has gone tense, trembling, hips thrusting back against Hob's with mounting desperation and god, but Hob is in love. "That's it, sweetheart, come for me again," he murmurs breathlessly, bending close to Dream's ear and the dried mess on his cheek and squeezing his hip, flexing the hand that covers his mouth. "Take your fill of my cock, shoot your load all over your car—I'll clean it again for you, don't worry—"

Dream stills abruptly, shaking, voice a strangled muffled shriek as he comes; Hob thrusts deep into his pulsing clenching arse and holds, intending to let Dream ride out his orgasm. But Dream wriggles, wrenches his head free of Hob's hand, gasping.

"Move—don't stop—"

So Hob moves.

He straightens up and sets both hands back on Dream's hips, fucks eagerly into him, quickly re-establishing his rhythm and speeding up. "Good?" he grunts, sweat dripping down his temple, and Dream warbles out an affirmative.

"Harder—Hob—use me, claim me, fill me—!" His voice shakes; his hands are spasming against the bonnet, his arms trembling, and his arse is so tight and slick and hot, clenches so beautifully around him, Hob isn't going to last but another moment.

"Use your pretty little hole for my own pleasure?" he gets out, pounding into it now with everything he's got, spiraling up to the horizon, and Dream sobs.

"Yes, Hob, yes—!"

"Claim it for myself?" Hob gasps, grinding deep, slamming into him again and again. "Fill you up with my come—ahh—here it is—Dream!"

Dream wails, and Hob comes, gasping, grunting, the euphoria sweeping through his veins in a warm rush. His hips jerk involuntarily, shoving deep, emptying himself thoroughly into Dream's clutching arse.

"Fuck," he pants, pulse pounding in his ears, "oh, fuck—"

It's good, so damn good, feels like it goes on forever, everything in his body alight with pleasure and pouring out through his dick, until at long last it subsides and he collapses, barely catching himself before he crushes Dream. He takes a minute, just panting above him, and then pulls out carefully—still wet and messy, regardless—with a groan. Dream whimpers, a sound of abject loss, but does not move from where he has gone limp on the car.

Hob turns carefully to perch beside him, resting his arse on the bonnet, catching his breath.

"Alright there, Dream?" he asks, after a moment.

"Mmh," is the only reply, and Hob takes a moment to just look at him, gaze sweeping over the lines of his body and the grey-black smudges he himself has left on that pristine pale skin. He lingers over the curves (such as they are) of Dream's arse, leans far enough to see where there's a mess of lube and semen dribbling down Dream's perineum to his balls, a glistening runnel of it trickling down his inner thigh—Hob shivers, arousal sparking despite the remains of orgasm still simmering in his blood.

"Christ, you look beautiful like this," he can't help saying. "Fucked out across the bonnet of your Porsche with your legs spread, and my come dripping out of your arse…"

"Silver tongue." Dream does not move from where he sprawls, languid and heavy-lidded, spread-eagled on the car, even as Hob levers himself up, moves to stand behind Dream again.

"Mmyes, that's right. Said something about having a use in mind for it, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"'Perhaps' he says," Hob drawls, grinning, but the idea's back in his head now and oh, he would like to get his tongue in Dream's arse, lube or no lube. He saw the bottle, it's water-based, it's not going to kill him to lick a bit of it up. "Why don't you tell me if this is what you had in mind, then."

He drops into a squat and flicks the tip of his tongue around the puffy rim of Dream's messy and very-pink hole, circling it with a light touch, and the sound that Dream makes is nothing but encouraging. His own come is no particular delicacy but just like the lube, he doesn't mind that he's getting a taste in the course of eating out this beautiful man. Dream's hole is swollen with use and sensitive and Hob kisses it softly, wets his tongue and wriggles it in, gently at first with slurping licks in between but with increasing enthusiasm until Dream is squirming against his face and he's as deep as he can get, grease-stained hands gripping those milk-white cheeks and spreading them wide.

The keening noise Dream makes urges him on and he delves back in again and again, breathless and eager, feasting until his face is sticky and his jaw aches. Finally he draws back, panting, senses filled with the smell and the taste of this man and still, Dream remains insatiable.

"More. Hob, I want more, do not send me on my way so unsated—"

He has come twice, surely he is not sincere when he says 'unsated', and yet. Here he is, pleading for more, as needy and eager as he's been the whole time. And god, but Hob wants to give him everything, is itching to finger him out but he's not doing that when his hands are still dirty, he's just not. Nor is he going to make Dream wait while he scrubs down with the Swarfega. He casts about, thinking, tongue lapping soothingly around Dream's sloppy hole all the while; there's the plug Dream was wearing but it's been sitting on the shop floor so no; it's shaped for stretching more than fucking anyway. His fingers really would be best—

"Did you bring more than just the one condom?"

"Mmh?" Dream sounds keyed up and hazy, blissed out on the attentions of Hob's tongue and Hob smiles, plants a kiss over his hole.

"Condoms, love. Have you got another?"

"Yes. Trouser pocket—"

"And where did your trousers escape to?" He kisses again, flicks his fatigued tongue inside in a teasing lick.

"Front seat." Dream wriggles, needy, restless and wanting.

"Brilliant. Hang on, got an idea—" He scrambles up and around and finds the clothes rumpled in the Porsche's driver seat, rifles through the pockets for the promised condom and tears it open, slips it over his first two fingers as he shuffles round the front of the car again, coveralls still tangled in his boots. Dream is a vision sprawled face down and spread-legged on the bonnet, eyes tracking Hob's return, and Hob won't leave him waiting another instant.

"Here we are," he murmurs, condom-clad fingers sliding down the cleft of Dream's grease-smudged arse and slipping deftly into his hole still slick with lube and Hob's jizz, Hob's spit. Hob pushes deep, curves his touch down and massages, and Dream cries out, going rigid.

Grinning, Hob leans over the bonnet beside him, fingers working deep and steady, and watches Dream's prettily-dirtied face as he comes apart. He's mewling, eyes wide, mouth open and gasping; he's come twice already and his insides are swollen and sensitive, his pleasure easy to stoke to trembling heights. Hob shifts briefly to drizzle more lube in for good measure and then gives him no quarter, fingers steady and relentless in their attentions until Dream is shaking, sobbing, tears leaking from his eyes and saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth. He pushes up on trembling arms, collapses back to his elbows, head hanging low between his shoulders. "Hob—aah—Hob, please!" It's unclear if he's begging for more or begging for mercy, but the way he flexes up on his toes and pushes back on Hob's hand is telling enough.

"Shh," Hob soothes, leaning close enough to brush his mouth across Dream's bicep in an open kiss, and then, because he can't help being just a touch evil: "Do you want to come again? Or did you need me to stop?"

"Do not stop," he manages, and it is very much an order despite his gasping breathless delivery. "Your hands are exquisite, Hob—!"

"You say the sweetest things," Hob murmurs, kissing his arm again and rubbing particularly hard with both fingers.

Dream wails, head tossing, trembling, helpless, and Hob draws his fingers partway out only to drive them back in, again and again and again, curving his touch to hit that spot on every thrust. He twists his hand as he goes, employing every expert technique he's honed in his time to bring Dream up to the edge again.

God, he loves this, having another person trust him with their pleasure and being able to give them everything they want and then some. It's heady, addictive to have this beautiful man sobbing in delight because of him, shaking apart, because of him; he desperately wants for this to not be the last time. Predictably, his mouth starts running again, pleading his case.

"You can have this anytime you like, love, I'd be delighted to take care of you again. Your pretty mouth, your pretty cock, this pretty perfect eager little hole—" He twists his fingers just so, curls and presses.

Dream warbles out a wet, broken sound that may or may not be Hob's name, bends trembling knees to widen his stance just a little, letting Hob that much deeper inside him.

Beautiful. Perfect.

"Come see me anytime you just need a good hard fuck, mmh? Whenever you want a fun and filthy seeing-too from your handsome bit of rough down at the garage?" He pauses with his fingers buried deep, strokes them fast and firm over exactly the right spot again and again and Dream wails, a high thin keening noise deep in his throat that rises into a proper scream as he comes at last. His body spasms, clenches hard on Hob's fingers in pulsing rhythm and Hob doesn't let up for a long moment, milks him relentlessly through it until he collapses onto the bonnet, boneless and panting.

Hob stills his fingers at that point but doesn't yet pull them out, savoring the snug warmth they're nestled in and the beautiful picture Dream makes like this.

He did that. He made Dream come three times, worked this posh pretty thing into a limp fucked-out mess sprawled across his expensive car.

God, but he wants to do it again.

"Do you think you've got one more in you?" He can't help it; he's always been greedy.

Dream groans, a low sound that stirs something deep in Hob's stomach. "Three times, Hob. I am spent." Yet he makes no move to rise from the car or pull off from Hob's hand, which he could easily do.

Greatly daring, tempted beyond reason by this ravenous marvelous creature, Hob twitches his fingers where they're still pressed against Dream's prostate.

Dream jerks, a shudder running through him, then squeaks when Hob does it again. "Hob—!" His eyes fly open, shining beneath his wet lashes.

"I'll stop if you say so," Hob hastens to assure him. "But you did chide me to not send you home unsated and I just want to make sure I've given you everything"—he presses again—"you need."

Dream whines through his teeth, sucks in a great gasping breath as Hob lets up and cries out when Hob's fingers curl mercilessly within him again, and again, and again. He scrabbles uselessly at the bonnet and lifts his head, mouth open, muscles straining, body trembling as Hob starts taking him apart again before he's even pulled himself back together from the last orgasm.

Hob's good with his hands, in this as well as his work, and he's quite certain he can make Dream come again in fairly short order given how sensitized and overstimulated he is. Hob is also quite certain he can draw this out just a bit longer, work him up even more before pushing him over the edge again and quite frankly, that sounds like more fun.

"Stay with me sweetheart," he murmurs in between Dream's cries, shifting his hand to stave off the cramp that wants to start. He strokes Dream's insides with both fingers, together at first and then one after the other; the condom and the grip of Dream's body restrict his range of movement somewhat but not so much that he can't do his job well.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," he breathes, fingers still moving steadily, and kisses his way softly up Dream's arm. "You're beautiful, perfect, so pretty and so hungry and so eager—" He's planting kisses across Dream's shoulders and back between words, moving down his spine next. "And you let me touch you, worship your body, get you off again and again and again—" He bends over Dream's arse, draws his fingers partway free and spreads them as wide as the condom allows, stretching open Dream's swollen well-used hole. He dips close, slides his tongue into the gap he's created and Dream moans, gasping, trembling. Hob takes a good minute with his tongue before pulling back and sinking his fingers deep again. "This hole, this perfect hungry insatiable hole, you let me fill it as I please, with my cock and my come and my fingers—so lucky, I am. Would you let me fill you with toys, too, sweetheart? I'll bet you've got a drawerful at home; I'd love to try them with you one by one, learn the best ways to play with each, to make you scream and sob and shake—" He's massaging Dream's prostate again, thorough and unhurried and Dream is indeed sobbing, incoherent. He moves, suddenly, draws up one knee beneath him on the bonnet and then the other as Hob moves with him. He's up on all fours briefly and then sinks down, folded double on his knees with his arms stretched out to grip where the bonnet meets the windscreen and his arse opened wide, letting Hob's fingers sink as deep as possible.

"Finish me, Hob," he begs, gripping weakly around Hob's diligent fingers, voice hoarse and shaky, "make me—make me—fuck, I can't—I can't—" He sobs, trembling, and Hob. Well. He's neither a cruel man, nor strong in the face of temptation, and his hand is ready to give out as well. So he buries his fingers to the hilt, seeks out that spot and gives it his all, strokes it quick and steady and firm, both fingers together, then one after the other, together again and Dream's knees spread wide, his spent prick pressing soft against the bonnet. He's making one long sound now, low and thin and straining in his throat, interspersed with gasping gulps of breath. His body trembles, jolts every time Hob presses harder at his prostate, and Hob leans back over beside him, softly kisses the curve of his shoulder.

"I've got you, sweetheart, we're almost there," he breathes, fingering relentlessly. "Is it still good?"

"Yes—fuck—fuck—Hob!" Dream scrabbles one hand down in Hob's direction and Hob seizes it, laces their fingers together; Dream is sobbing, breathless, utterly wrecked and Hob's hand is giving out but he refuses to stop, to quit, not until—

Dream's body stiffens, convulses, bearing down on Hob's stuttering fingers in tremulous pulses and his voice has gone high, whistle-thin, and then he is gasping, tension falling out of him in a rush as he goes limp, breathing hard and heavy against the bonnet. Hob stills his aching hand at last, draws it out carefully and peels off the condom with his teeth, flings it aside. He'll clean up later. He stretches the cramping sensation from his hand and settles it lightly on Dream's still-heaving ribs, unable to keep from touching him even now that they're done.

"Alright, dove?" Hob asks, gently stroking up Dream's spine. "Can you move?" He gives a soft squeeze to their still-joined hands and is gratified to feel brief pressure in return. Dream turns his head, lifts it slightly; his eyes are wet, his hair sticking damply to his forehead and the grease smudge there; his mouth is open, a bit of drool still in the corner and Hob is helpless, gone, so fucking besotted and far too deeply attached for what this is. He dips in, kisses Dream with every soft emotion squirming captive in his chest and Dream just kisses him back, quiet, exhausted, willing.

"C'mere," Hob murmurs, straightening up, sitting back, leaning on the bonnet. He draws Dream after him, tucks him awkwardly up against his side and Dream allows it, nestles underneath his arm, still catching his breath.

This is the drawback to sex in the garage, Hob decides wryly; there is nowhere really suitable or comfortable for post-coital cuddles. He's seriously considering whether he can slide into the passenger seat of the Porsche with Dream in his lap when finally Dream stirs, lifts his head, shivers all over as he straightens and graces Hob with a small smile.

"I believe I will make use of your shop for all my future service needs," he says, primly, with a playful note underneath the exhaustion.

Hob laughs, hearty and full-bodied and joyous. "Glad to hear it," he says, when the laughter subsides. He's so utterly gone on this man, no matter how unlikely a pair they make, and he feels far too good right now to care about the future heartbreak he'll inevitably have to deal with.

He helps Dream down from the car then, steadies him on his feet and sees him around to the driver's seat where Dream first downs half the bottle of water he brought with him and then proceeds with re-dressing. Hob makes to get his coveralls pulled back up into place at that point but Dream stops him. "You promised to clean my spend off my car, I believe," he says, with that tone in his voice that makes Hob's insides go warm despite himself.

"Absolutely," he confirms, waiting, because there was clearly more forthcoming.

"I should like to see you with your trousers around your ankles and your arse on display while you do so." Dream blinks at him, all coquettish charm that is somehow enhanced by his disheveled and dirtied and half-dressed state. "If you are amenable, of course."

"I can do that for you," Hob agrees, delighted, even as he feels his face heat. It's not at all what he's used to but being ogled, being objectified—especially by his beautiful Dream—is no hardship, whatever his reason.

He finds a rag and the polish while Dream finishes putting himself back together and comes round the front of the Porsche again, and then Hob cleans up the bodily fluids on the bonnet, sweat and semen and lube and anything else, coveralls still around his ankles as requested. He wiggles his arse just a bit, since Dream is watching, and when that gets a pleased little sound out of Dream he does it a bit more, putting his whole body into the cleaning motions, bending at the waist and letting his hips swing in wide suggestive arcs.

"There," he says, finished, tossing the rag aside, and his arms are full of Dream as soon as he turns.

"Magnificent," Dream breathes against his mouth, and kisses him, warm and wet and thorough. Hob gives back as good as he gets, threads his hands into Dream's hair, and Dream's hands skate down his bare sides, around his hips and lower, seizing his arse cheeks and squeezing. His fingernails comb through the hair there and Hob squeaks, delighted, dick twitching with interest.

Dream breaks the kiss after only a few seconds. "There is so much more I want to do with you," he murmurs, kneading Hob's arse in slow sensual motions, "but I am spent. Well used. Sated, despite my lingering desires." He releases one cheek, moves to draw a fingertip along the slit of Hob's mostly-soft cock, where he surely encounters the tacky lube-laced remains of Hob's earlier orgasm. He brings that finger to his mouth, makes a show of licking it delicately before slipping it into his mouth to suck properly, and Hob whimpers.

"Dream, love, I meant what I said. Pop by anytime you need, I'll take care of you—"

"I believe you. After all, you have opted me into your loyalty program, yes? I must be sure to claim all of my associated benefits." He steps back, pulling out his phone and handing it to Hob with the contacts open. "Your number, please."

Hob types it in gladly, hits save, hands the phone back.

Dream cradles it close, a look on his face like he's savoring the addition of Hob's number, and glances up at Hob through his lashes. "I look forward to employing your services again, Hob Gadling. You are very much worth the trip."

"You just like me for my rugged filthiness," Hob says, a tease to keep his head in the right place—there's still no sense getting sentimental, after all, no matter the elated cartwheels his ego is doing at those words.

Dream regards him haughtily, one eyebrow lifting; the grease stains do nothing to diminish the expression. "I am quite certain I would enjoy you equally as much cleaned up and dressed up, that I might wine and dine you, take you home to my bed for an evening."

Hob almost, almost detects a hint of vulnerability threading the words and grins, a little pang of tenderness tugging helplessly behind his chest. "Think so, do you?"

"Would you like to test my theory?" There is something both hesitant and eager underneath his casual tone, and Hob's heart trips a little as that tug grows stronger.

"Why, Mr. Atelíotes, are you asking me out? On a proper date?"

"Perhaps." It's equal parts caginess and coy teasing, and Hob is forced to admit—again—that he's smitten despite himself.

"Well." He grins, dialing it up to his most charming. "Rumor has it I'm excellent company whether my dick's involved or not. And while a standard dinner date may not be as fantasy-worthy as getting plowed by the rough mechanic in his garage, I think we could still have a good time." He's showing his hand a bit, gently calling Dream on the fantasy fulfillment that has obviously been going on here, but what's life without a little risk? Especially when the potential reward is so very worth it?

"You are very confident of your own appeal," Dream replies, mouth turning up at one corner in a way that tips over from 'cautious' to 'amused'. And if Hob's not mistaken, there's a hint of pink blushing over his porcelain complexion under the filth clinging to his cheekbone.

He grins, spreads his arms, still stark naked with his coveralls around his ankles. "Am I wrong, though?"

"…No," Dream decides, after a long moment of deliberation, and Hob steps closer to him, dares to touch his face affectionately.

"Why don't you pick me up here at seven tomorrow night. Tell me exactly how posh I should dress, and we'll see where it goes?" He leans in, presses his lips softly to Dream's.

Dream hums into it, pleased, and palms his chest gently before pulling away. "Very well. Seven, tomorrow night. I will make us a reservation and text you the dress code."

Hob smiles, an effervescent sort of happiness bubbling up inside him. "Sounds perfect."

He finally puts his coveralls back in order after that, zipped just past the waist, and makes certain that the condoms are picked up and Dream gets his lube and his toy all collected before he shifts back into business mode. Dream is no more interested in cleaning his face before leaving today than he was yesterday so Hob moves on; he explains the repairs and runs Dream's credit card, then returns his keys and guides him in backing the Porsche out of the garage. Dream leans out the window once he's clear and Hob ducks down, delighted to get a final kiss.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you," he says, trying to temper the giddy anticipation he feels against the reality of their acquaintance, and Dream's soft smile turns sultry around the edges.

"I will be counting the hours until I see you again, Hob Gadling," he purrs, and drives off.

The way the Porsche jerks when he shifts after turning the corner makes Hob wince.

Maybe, if they do continue whatever this is beyond a single dinner date, maybe Hob can give him some tips on driving stick so he doesn't burn out the new clutch.

Then again, the more Dream abuses his poor car, the more excuse he'll have to invoke his 'loyalty rewards'.

And Hob doesn't think that's such a bad thing, in the end.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 9/17/24 Posted: 9/21/24

[heavyhitterheaux]

Drive Safe Part 3

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: Our wild ride has come to an end 🥹😘

Synopsis: You confront your best friend for what she did to you behind your back all while trying to make sense of your future with Jack. The ultimate question is, are you willing to give your ex-husband another chance?

Pairing: Ex-husband!Jack Harlow x Ex-wife!Reader

Read Part 1 and Part 2 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After hearing Taylor confess what you had heard Jack tell Urban left you in a daze. So, he in fact was telling the truth, however your best friend or someone who you thought was your best friend went behind your back and betrayed you. Never did you think that in a million years that she would do something like this and try to play innocent and continue on with life as usual as if nothing happened.

“Y/N, I know you're pissed at me and for good reason and I know I shouldn't have done it and…”

You immediately cut her off.

“Let me ask you something. Did you honestly think that you could do that and ultimately get away with it? Yes, me and him have our issues but stepping out on one another because of a disagreement has never been a reality. No matter how mad at each other we are. Bottom line, you took advantage of him being in a vulnerable stage. Even if I am still very mad at him, I'm going to defend him when someone does him wrong. And in this case, you were in fact… wrong.”

“I…”

“I thought that at least you were one of the last people I could count on to have my back, but low and behold you wanted my man for yourself. Everyone has treated me like shit since this first happened and since obviously my feelings don't matter to you or anyone else, there's nothing left for me to say. We are done here and you can forget about being their godmother. Lose my number and do not call me again for as long as you live.”

“Wait, just….. we're throwing our friendship away over a mistake I made? I confessed and I apologized. I don't know what came over me to do that and deep down I knew it wasn't right. But I just….”

“A mistake you hid from me for damn near two years and it wasn't a mistake actually. I had my suspicions, but I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, thinking no, there's no way in the world that my best friend would do that to me. You were in your right mind and knew what you were doing. And to think I trusted you. I've told you things In confidence that I have never told anyone else and you just….I need to leave. And you can pick up the tab since you want to be kissing other people's husbands.”

“It’s never going to happen again, I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

“You've already lost me as a friend from the moment you tried to kiss Jack. It's not going to happen again, because you are going to stay as far away as possible from us. Did you really think that I would forgive you for doing something like that to me? You broke my trust and that is not something that cannot be repaired overnight. Oh, and one last thing, I knew what you did for months now and was just simply waiting for you to confess.”

Taylor was sitting there absolutely stunned and unable to speak. And it looked as if her eyes were starting to water.

“Didn't think it was going to take this long, but here we are. I'm taking my food to go and have the day you deserve. And you can save your tears for someone who actually cares.”

Without another word, you slid back from the table and went to the front of the restaurant to let them know that you wanted your order to go and that Taylor would be paying for it. 

Once you got outside in your rental car, the tears started to roll down your face. You were proud of yourself, but also hurting. You felt that at this point, you didn't have anyone anymore and you simply wanted to go back home to Louisville or Atlanta rather and be away from it all. Because Atlanta was the only place where you felt that your life actually made sense. Louisville held too many memories for you and every single one of them had to do with Jack. 

You had gotten back to the beach house in record time and stared at your phone contemplating if you were going to call Jack or not to let him know that you had talked to Taylor. Making your way inside, you sat everything down in the kitchen before making your way upstairs to the bedroom since your desire to eat anything was now gone. You picked up your phone and then shook your head and placed it on the dresser before the tears started falling again.

If you knew the shitstorm that would happen when Jack asked for you to marry him, you probably would have never done it. But who were you kidding? You knew deep down that you still would have said yes despite what was going on around you at the present moment. Did you see yourself marrying him again? Only time would be able to tell. The most important thing that you needed to focus on right now was trying to heal. 

Jack played with his phone in his hands contemplating calling your older sister, Danielle, but had a strong feeling that she wouldn't want to hear anything that he had to say.

But he had to try.

He was willing to do absolutely anything to get you to forgive him and get him to marry him again. Even though you told him that marriage was definitely off the table, in the back of his mind and deep down he knew that if he wasn't able to get married to you again that he wouldn't get married again at all. You were the love of his life and he ruined it.

Before he backed out, he quickly hit her number to call her as his heart was damn near beating out of his chest.

And now he was hoping she didn't answer. 

But luck wasn't on his side and she did.

“Hello?”

“Dani, it's Jack.”

“I know. I have something called caller id on my iphone.”

“Umm….”

“What do you need?”

“Um, for your little sister to stop ignoring my calls and talk to me.”

All Dani did was scoff before responding.

“And you think that you deserve to talk to her after what you did?” Dani asked and now Jack was starting to regret ever picking up the phone to call her.

“Dani, she's pregnant.”

“I am aware. I was there when she took the test. What's your point?”

“Dani, please. I just want her to talk to me so she can hopefully forgive me and we can get back together.”

“Jack, I told you to do one thing when it came to her. ONE. Do you remember what that was?”

“Take care of her.”

“Hmm, and did you do like I asked?”

“Well…”

“No. You didn't. Instead you hurt my baby girl and quite frankly, I’m surprised she stayed with you as long as she did. That girl LOVES you and would do anything for you, but instead you let your little fame get to your head. As much as she would call me crying all times of the night over you, you honestly think you deserve to be in a relationship with her again?”

“I know I've messed up and that I've hurt her, but all I want to do is make it right. I don't want anyone else or be married to anyone else. I didn't even want to sign the divorce papers!”

All Dani did was sigh before responding.

“You better listen to me and listen to me good. I will do what I can, but it is ultimately her decision. If she gets back with you, fine. I'll support it. If she doesn't, I'm also going to support it. But one thing I'm not going to tolerate is you disrespecting her. That is the mother of three of your big headed children so give her the respect she deserves. She's in Miami and I'm going to check on her so I'll do my best to see if she’ll talk to you. No promises.”

“That's literally all I ask.”

“But if she says no, unless it has to do with your unborn children, you better leave her the fuck alone.”

Not realizing that you fell asleep after confronting Taylor, you woke up to see that it was dark outside and had no clue what time it was. Grabbing your phone and wincing from the light as you put your password in, you saw that it was around nine at night.

Sighing to yourself, you threw the comforter away from your body to make your way downstairs to come face to face with your older sister who was currently sitting in the living room and scrolling away on her phone. 

Hearing your footsteps come up behind her, she quickly greeted you.

“Lil Bit, I thought you were going to sleep until next week.”

“Uh? What are you doing here?” You sleepily asked as you rubbed your eyes.

“Don't you think I know when you need me?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you?” She asked as you came to sit across from her.

You wanted to say yes, that you were indeed in fact fine, but the words just weren't coming out. Instead, something else did.

“I miss him and I HATE myself for feeling like this.” You breathed out while wrapping your arms around yourself.

“It's not like it was a one night stand. You two were MARRIED. And have known each other since you two were fourteen. That doesn't go away overnight. There's going to be ups and downs with healing from that. It isn't linear.”

“But I'm just so MAD at him for what he did. No matter how much he tries to take it back and apologize, what's done is done. And that song felt like a legit slap to the face.”

“He's not perfect, but neither are you. He definitely could have gone about it a different way, but what's done is done and the only thing you can do is move forward from it.”

“He called you, didn't he?” You asked as you were eyeing Dani.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“DANIELLE….”

“He did and in not so many words, begged for me to convince you to talk to him and to stop ignoring his calls.”

“And? What did you tell him?”

“After I threatened him, I said that I would try to convince you, but no promises. He has a show in Miami in two days so I figured you two can talk then. If you want to, that is.”

“I don't know If I want to.” You answered being completely honest. 

“You said you missed him.”

“I miss a lot of things, but I've learned to adjust.”

“You aren't adjusting. You're avoiding it.”

“I don't remember asking for a therapy session.”

“Look, I get that you're hurting and want to take some time for yourself, but you cannot keep this bottled up because you are legit going to explode.” 

“What are people going to say if I take him back?”

“Who gives a flying fuck? That's your business and no one else's. Two people would be in that relationship and not the entire world.”

“But he legit disrespected me multiple times.” 

“Y/N, if you are looking for me to tell you what to do, it’s not going to happen. In the end, this has to be a decision that you have to live with. No one else. Just know that whatever you decide, I will support you 100%.”

Before you answered her, you simply sighed.

“What venue is he performing at on Saturday?”

—-

Saturday finally rolled around and you had been on edge for the entire day. The time for you to leave was inching closer and closer and you were seriously about to back out of it altogether. Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself a once over in the floor length mirror at your black dress that you were wearing along with a pair of your Steve Madden sandals and was satisfied with how the outfit came together. You had straightened your hair earlier in the day, so the only thing left to do was to confront him.

You had been confronting a lot of people lately and wanted for this to be the end of it.

Dani volunteered to go with you and the two of you rode in silence to the venue with her taking quick glances at you to see that you were scrolling on your phone from time to time. Once the two of you arrived and made your way inside, Jack was already on stage and Urban had quickly spotted the two of you.

“Hi Urby.” You said as he engulfed you in a bear hug.

“Hey, didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I didn’t know either until two days ago.”

“He’ll be happy to see you. Come this way so I can take you two backstage so you can watch from the side.”

“Hmm, we’ll see if that still rings true after I talk to him.”

All Urban did was hold his hands up in defense before shrugging since he knew that you were just about at your wits end with everything that had been going on. 

You and Dani quickly followed behind Urban and since everyone recognized you, you were able to get backstage with no problem. But you also knew in the back of your mind that your so-called ex-best friends were probably there as well, right along with Neelam. And of course she had spotted you.

“Y/N?”

“The one and only unless there’s another one that I don’t know about?” You quickly said to her as Dani stifled a laugh.

“Can we…?” She started to say, but you immediately cut her off.

“No. I’m here for one person and one person only. If I wanted to talk to any of the rest of you, I would have told you. I’ll let you know when I’m ready whenever that time comes.”

“I.. fair enough. You both can come over here to watch him from the side.”

It took less than five minutes for Jack to spot you standing on the side and he got the biggest smile on his face and you simply gave him a tight lipped smile in return. You did your part of willing to open the lines of communication, but if it was something that you didn’t want to hear, you were immediately going to cut it off.

Once his set was over, he quickly jogged off the stage towards you and opened his arms for a hug which surprisingly you actually returned.

You had missed this feeling. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” You asked him and he quickly nodded as he led the two of you to his dressing room.

Once the door was closed, you let him have it. 

“Babe? Is everything okay? What are you doing here? And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Don't call me that, Jackman. You lost the privilege to do so. But let’s just cut to the chase shall we? You called Dani to get me to talk to you so here I am. Now onto my most pressing question, why didn't you tell me what Taylor did?” 

Jack, obviously taken aback, cleared his throat before answering you. And all he did was rock back and forth on his heels before sighing.

“Because I didn't think you would believe me if I had told you when it originally happened.”

“But not to say anything at all? You were supposed to protect me, we're supposed to protect each other! I had the fakest person under my nose for the longest and you said NOTHING.”

“I…. I didn't know what to do. You already didn't want to be bothered with me and I didn't want to create an even bigger mess. Wait, she told you?”

“Yes and kept asking me before she did if you had said something to me first.”

“I'm sorry, and I know that I should have. I would never cheat on you no matter how mad I might be. You mean too much to me for me to do that.”

“Hmm, your actions lately say otherwise. You hurt me with that shit you pulled and should have come and talked to me.”

“I know and I don't have an excuse for it. I just wish we could start over and just forget that any of this ever happened.”

“Do you honestly think that you deserve another chance?”

“Dani legit said the same thing.” He mumbled before taking a seat next to you and grabbing your left hand which was still decorated with your wedding ring. Except it wasn’t on your ring finger.

He began to play with it as he was waiting for you to say something.

“How do I know that something like this won’t ever happen again?” You asked and that was when he finally looked up at you.

“Because we’re going to communicate better and be honest with each other about how we’re feeling. That was my biggest downfall.”

“Hmm.”

“And I need to put you first. You were the one who was with me when I had absolutely nothing and I lost sight of that. Anytime I needed you, you were there but I didn’t give you that same treatment in return.”

“I want to believe you, I really do because I miss you, but… I just don’t know.”

“Y/N, please. Things are going to be different this time.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if I’m at that point where I want to find out or not.” You answered being completely honest.

“Well, how long do you think that will take? You know I’m willing to wait. I legit do not want anyone else.”

“Only time will tell.” You shrugged while looking at him.

When he didn’t say anything else, you simply let go of his hand and began to get up.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I did what you asked and I came and heard what you had to say, did I not?”

“Yes, but…”

“And now I’m leaving.”

“Baby girl, just…”

“Just, what, Jack? Just what? You said your piece and I’ve said mine. When I’m ready to take you back, you’ll know.” 

“I love you and I want this. I want us.” He said as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it.

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear and you’ve done it more than once.”

“At least just spend the night with me, let me take you out.”

“Maybe some other time. I’m pretty tired. I am pregnant, the last time I checked.”

“Okay, I get that. Some other time then.”

Jack then stood up and gave you another long embrace as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

You then felt him cup your cheek and knew he wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him too, but you definitely weren’t letting him back in that easily.

Instead of meeting his lips with yours, he met your cheek since you had turned your head and you heard him sigh.

“When I fully forgive you, you can give me as many kisses as your heart desires, but until then I need you to remember something for me.”

“What is it?

“Remember one thing, I'm not your girl.” You whispered against his lips before smirking and laughing to yourself as you made your way to the door of the dressing room.

“Drive Safe tonight, Jackman.” Was the last thing you said before you disappeared on the other side of the door leaving him absolutely speechless.

[redcoralpot]

Can you do Daryl finding out reader is trans? Early season 4, perhaps? :3

Attentu - Daryl Dixon x FTM Reader

Your wish is my command!!

Warnings: Gore, murder, violence, blood, cussing, mentions of transphobia and death, and addictions.

Word Count: 2.6K

You eagerly join in on the medical supply run, despite the group's awful luck. A confession from Bob has you feeling quite guilty about a personal matter...

-

It was dead.

You threw the car battery to the side, sick of the luck your supply group had. Daryl was on the other side of the room, shuffling through drawers in an attempt to obtain the right part. For an auto repair shop, it was horribly disorganized.

“Got anything?” you called over, impatient.

A grin took over your face as he tossed the find at you, catching it in a firm grip, “Nah.”

The car was not in terrible shape, not really. Some rust here and there, with paint scratched off from long road adventures before the outbreak. Your father had a similar car when you were just a child, and he was insistent that he passed on his knowledge, despite your mother’s constant objections. It was not fit for someone like you; that your hands should never be calloused from the tough ground nor covered in grease, she said. He always ended up laughing in her face.

So as he would have it, the two of you got in all sorts of trouble. Hijacking cars, picking locks, prying cabinets open with a pocket knife; all things he said would come in handy one day. Daryl seemed like he had the same type of upbringing, all rough and tumble, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him. That, or he was just really damn good with surviving.

Daryl’s footsteps creaked as he led the way out of the building, shining his flashlight on any possible threats around. Someone had to, as you weren’t keen to look after Bob found an old walker stuck under a desk, ending that misery. It was the only one left. One by one, you circled out of the building, with Bob’s silent trepidation behind you as you arrived back at the car. Daryl opened its hood again, and you both set to work.

His voice was muffled around his cigarette, “You never told us about the group you were with, before.”

You glanced up as Bob replied, “Which one?”

“You know,” he continued, when Daryl gave him a look, “when you found me out on that road, I almost kept walking.”

“Why’s that?’

“I was done being a witness. It happened two times, two different groups.”

…

“I was the last one standing, like God intended for me to see it over and over; a curse,” he shook his head, pursing his lips, “but, when it’s just you out there with the quiet, I used to drink a bottle of just 'bout anything just so I could sleep at night.”

“The run to the big spot, I only did it for me.”

You froze, a jug of clear liquid still in your hands. Daryl took it from you, completely unfazed, and managed to get a swig out of it.

He licked his lips, “You gotta keep busy somehow.”

“No, I did it so I could get me a bottle, a bottle of anything. That’s what got Zack killed.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daryl peered at him, “why don’t you get in there and try the engine? Should be the red and green wires, it ain’t rocket science.”

Even as Bob walked away, you stayed silent. Your fingers burned as you rigged the working car battery back in, but never as much as your thoughts. The other man nudged you, urging you to take your hands off as the engine roared in front of you. He clapped his hands and brought them up to his mouth; a sharp whistle rang through the air. Bob’s alcohol troubles seemed to be forgotten by Daryl, since he gave you a rusty smile while you slammed down the hood.

“Nobody coulda’ known, and you ain’t gonna be standing alone. Not anymore,” he reassured Bob.

You huffed, swinging a few plastic bags of gas in the back seats, ducking to join them. Tyreese and Michonne got the rest and the three of you squeezed together with the luggage, closing the door. With that, you left the burdensome place behind.

The ride to the college was short, but Bob still parked a little ways out, and the group set off to walk the rest of the distance. You passed most of the buildings on campus; dull brick that plants jumped at the opportunity to outgrow after a year of inactivity.

“Looks like the building we want is up ahead,” Tyreese stated.

For the first time since Bob’s confession, you spoke, “Are we splitting up? We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Is that safe?” Michonne questioned, and Daryl eyed you.

“I know I can cover myself, if I end up alone.”

The brunette scoffed, and you shifted a glare at him, “You know I can, too. You’ve seen me.”

“I think,” Bob uttered, “it’s a good idea.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll shoot if I run into any trouble. Meet me back at the car.”

Outside of the Learning Resource Center, you split from the group, sneaking close to the ground. You heard the rest shuffle in the opposite direction with a soft “C’mon, c’mon.”, and let out a shaky breath. Two pairs, then three pairs of footsteps faded away.

The lights of the wing flickered and let out fading sparks as you padded along, dust pillowing up from wherever you stepped. God, the outbreak sure did a number on this place. Shadows grew as abundantly as the plants, but never dulled the smears of blood along the walls, floor, and shattered glass. It cracked and snapped under you, somewhere behind you, and you hissed as you looked at the walls alongside you. There were several doorways leading to different rooms, most likely supply closets or classrooms. Carefully, you dipped yourself into the nearest doorway, a heavy feeling on your back. Your heart pumped wildly in your chest and your stomach had a sick pit of anxiety as you thumbed through the biggest drawers. There were plenty of jars, containers, and vials, but none of them had what you needed. You read all the labels once, twice, the text in messy handwriting or tiny fonts.

Testosterone, in its liquid form made for injections, should be a clear liquid. You knew that much from what your provider told you, and from your own studies. Any colored liquids, or any with particles floating inside, you discarded from your search immediately. You were taking too long, you started to think, or were you? You didn’t know if you were gone for ten or if you have been here for thirty.

Once again, you slid back into the trashed hallway, trying to make your way towards the next doorway. The only things you could hear were your quick breaths and a creak, most likely from the forgotten building. A set pattern was in your mind as you dove into the room, and the haze of adrenaline made it hard to think. Walkers, as the prison liked to call them, were not your biggest concern. Even before the outbreak, it was dangerous for you to step outside; to live your life. If you passed by the wrong person, your face would be on the hot topic of the community for the week after. Getting caught was not an option.

You blinked, trying to clear the thumping in your ears. The vial’s label looked like a foreign language, though you knew it wasn’t, so you peered closer at it. A gust of hot air hit your neck, and again. Hot air. This place was cold.

Your fingers scrambled for the knife at your side, it was there, wasn’t it? You slashed before you could think. Hair scratched your fingers; your knife dug into a warm crevice. The hot air turned into a raw, groaning noise. The hot air stopped. 

You pushed the body to the ground and your blade was released. The blood trickled hot down your wrist. Instead of the red you expected, it was a sludgy, filthy brown. It dripped in slow droplets on the floor beside your shoes. This was the first opportunity to look at the thing, and what a sight it was.

The knife had caved in a part of its skull, which itself was like a rotten, stomped on pumpkin. It oozed and dripped the same muck over the tile, muddying the disfigured face underneath. It made Osbourne’s stage trick look like simple child’s play to anyone who witnessed the act. Its eyes were still open; bulging out in that manic, hungry way only a madman got before the outbreak. You looked away from the mess, your breakfast seizing in your throat, and you busied yourself with getting more testosterone vials in your bag. The most important thing was that it was not human, not anymore.

Stuffing your full hand in your bag, you made a beeline for the doorway.

You should have learned your lesson.

A weight tumbled over you and knocked you to the floor, breathless. It screeched, rabid, like some sort of fucked up dog. If a dog hadn’t eaten for a month, that is. It stunk, too. It stunk so bad that you thought you might die from suffocation first.

It clawed at you, gnashing its yellow teeth. Your hands were pinned underneath the mass and you heard your knife land across the floor with a clang. This was going to be it. The end. It’s funny, isn’t it? Dying searching for your lifeline. You almost giggled at the irony.

The teeth were close to your neck, aiming to kill. To eat until you were nothing but an unrecognizable pile of flesh and bones. You had to do something, and soon. The only part of your body you could move were your legs, and you tensed them up. You were going to survive this, you were going to get back to that car. 

Three.

You struggled to prop your shoulder up, knocking the danger away from your neck. Its eyes were bloodshot and cloudy. As empty as a corpse.

Two.

The walker got more desperate to bite you, wiggling around harshly on top of you. You tried your best to keep your face far away from its own, but it successfully nipped the edge of your nose. This was going to hurt.

One.

Its final noise was a gurgling one, close to your ear. The weight flopped to your right side, stilling its frugal attempt to destroy you.

“You got yourself covered, huh,” a voice remarked.

You wheezed, “Christ.”

“What were you doin’?”

“Shit.”

Daryl stepped over you, pulling his arrow out of the corpse, “I’m serious.”

You finally got your legs under you, and the first thing you did was back a good distance away from him. There was no getting out of this, you both knew that Daryl would know if you lied to him. Yet, he was one of the last people in the prison you felt comfortable telling. Daryl was a classic redneck, with a bigot older brother and a taste for mysteriousness. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and the hair on the back of your neck stood up like a wildfire. You would have much rather told Carol or even Michonne, if you had to choose. 

“You know what Bob said.”

“Yeah,” he stated, “but you ain’t an alcoholic. I know that much.”

“I’m not, but that wasn’t the point. I only came on this run for one thing, and it isn’t medicine. It’s testosterone.”

“Why do you need that? You’re strong enough without that steroid shit.”

“I don’t get as much as you do naturally.”

“So a medical condition?”

“Kind of.”

“Even if it was, that don’t explain why you had to sneak away from the group to get it. What’re you hiding?”

“I’m transgender, Daryl. I wasn’t born a boy like you,” you murmured.

There was a parade of footsteps down the hallway, and Tyreese burst through the door, the others close behind. He looked spooked, with sweat dripping down his disheveled face. Michonne and, speaking of the devil, Bob looked no better off.

He exclaimed, “Jesus, there you two are. We gotta go, now.”

“What, why?”

“Walkers. Tons of ‘em. Let’s go!”

You gladly took this chance, shoving past Daryl to dart out into the hallway with the others. Everyone else was rushing, but it was a minute before you also heard footsteps behind you. The infected corpses swarmed the building, even though it wasn’t like that before, and it made you wonder what the hell released them. Your group ran up the stairs with walkers not too far behind, and those trapped banged on whatever surface they could reach. 

“There was a ledge near the fire escape,” Michonne hissed, “we can go through there.”

No one responded unless a quick nod could be considered one, and you were off. Michonne went first, then Tyreese, you, and finally Daryl. Your legs were shaking, and you paid Bob a glance. He tensed up, seemingly trying to gauge the distance, before jumping. He was barely right, and landed a little too close to the edge, teetering off. His arms flailed and an army of bodies from below swarmed up to grab his heavy bag. You rushed to catch him, attempting to pull the man up, but he refused to let his backpack go. 

Finally, you ripped both the man and his bag away from the grasp of the walkers, panting, “What the fuck were you doing? What’s in that bag that could possibly be so important?”

“He’s right.” Daryl took the bag from Bob, zipping it open.

Bob rushed to stop him, but it was too late. Daryl dropped the backpack as quick as he picked it up, and he seized Bob by the collar.

“If I ever catch you puttin’ a bottle before a need, I’ll feed you to the walkers myself. You hear me?”

You froze as Daryl let the shorter man down, pushing him as he did so. Everyone else shot him a disappointed look or a glare, and Michonne waved her hand. You were all to keep moving; the run was over, and on an especially sour note.

The group arrived back to the prison safe and sound, the most daring of injuries being bruises, or small cuts. Tyreese and Michonne left to do their own activities, while Bob left to lick his wounds. This retired Daryl and yourself alone, to an awkward silence. With nothing else to do, you picked at a particularly nasty cut on your forearm. It was starting to look infected.

You cleared your throat, “Do you have anything left in your bag?”

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I use some?”

“Nah.” Daryl tossed you his bag.

Carefully, you peeked inside. There wasn’t much left, some disinfectant spray and vials of a clear liquid. No, that couldn’t be, could it?

Testosterone. At least three good vials of it.

You raised them up to your face, not believing your eyes, “Daryl, where the hell did you get these?”

“Grabbed them from that drawer you found the others in,” he refused to make eye contact, “after you left.”

“Why?”

“You might’ve needed more than you got.”

That… meant a lot to you. You had expected him to at the very least ignore you, or even worse, disgusted by you. What were the chances he would grab extras for you, just in case? Instead of yelling or hitting or kicking you out of his life, Daryl did that. If you were being honest, this was one of the weirdest coming out stories to date, but nothing can really beat zombies being included.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Nah. I’m a little confused, though.”

“On the topic?”

Daryl sighed, “Yeah. Wasn’t educated that much.”

“Well, if you want, I could help with that.”

Just for a second, he looked you in the eyes. In that moment, you didn’t see hate, anger, or anything negative. Only a sharp, beautiful glimpse of curiosity.

“Yeah.”

-

[p-e-n-i-s-c-o-r-e]

Obsession

He has to have you.

Warnings: Lando dies, obsessed!Max, knife usage, kidnapping, cursing, murder, use of Y/N

A/N: Hello! This is my first lil story on here. Im pretty proud of it if I do say so myself. Enjoy please! 😼

He had been watching her. Ever since Lando brought her to the paddock he'd been hooked. The way her eyes looked in the sunlight. Her smile when she congradulated him on his win. God she was perfect, but she was with Lando. And he hated that. Hated that she wasn't his. Oh he was obsessed. He couldn't help it. He knew what had to be done.

A stench filled the room as her eyes fluttered open. A low tick being all that she could hear.

tick

tick

tick

She couldn't move, her limbs tied to the chair she was sitting in. Where is she? An what is that smell?. A stream of light seeps in as she sees a door open, followed by someone.

"You're awake."

He said, voice rough, like he had just woken up himself. She lifts her head to meet him. Max?

"Max..? Where...-where am I..?"

He chuckled slightly before speaking once more, his dutch accent prominate with his words.

"Don't worry about it liefde. All you need to know is you're mine now."

What? What is he talking about? She thinks. Wheres Lando? Why does it smell so bad in here?

"Where's Lando..?"

She asks, fear etching her voice. Max smiles widely, like hes proud of something.

"I took care of him."

He says, not explaining further.

Four days prior

Max had knocked on Landos door, she was at a party, so he knew this was his time to strike. Lando opened the door, surprised to see the dutchman in front of him

"Max! Whats brought you by mate?"

"Just wanted to chat."

Max says coldly, Lando smiles bright, allowing the dutchman in. Lando takes a seat on the couch, Max following.

"Anything up with redbull?" Lando says, looking at Max.

"Not really, Christians thinking about replacing Checo though. Not sure with who yet."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, something how hes lost his touch, that hes just bringing the team down. Which I can see, we've had to pay alot to repair his car from the constant times hes crashed it."

Lando nods. Understanding. Checos performance at redbull hasn't been the best lately. So maybe retirment could be in the bag for him. Lando decides to change the topic bringing her up.

"Y/n's at a party right now. Won't be back til late. I really love her mate."

Max keeps a stoned face. Not wanting to show his emotions at the moment

"Really?"

"Yeah, Im pretty sure she might be the one. Even got a ring picked out, let me show you"

Lando gets up, walking to his bedroom, the one he shared with her. Max followed him, playing with the knife that was in his pocket. Lando rummages in his dresser, searching for the velvet box that held the ring.

"I really love her mate. I really do. I hope she says yes. I don't know what I'd do it she didnt."

Max listens, twirling the knife around with his fingers, flicking it open as Lando talks. Stab and twist. Stab and twist. The knife connects to Landos side. Stab and twist.

Landos eyes widen, a sharp, burning pain shooting through his body, he grabs onto Max's arm, trying to keep himself upright.

"M-max? Wha..-what..?"

He stutters out, pain steadily running through his body. Max looks at him, a cold look, like he didn't care.

"Sorry mate. Can't let you take her from me."

He states coldly, not a look of guilt swimming in his eyes as he pulled the knife out, sticking it in Landos stomach this time, twisting.

Lando coughs, specks of blood landing on the dresser in front of him, trying to push Max away as he cries out in pain, his hands covering the stab wounds.

"You...-you're fucking insane.."

Lando coughs up. Stepping back, hitting the dresser, his hands covered in blood.

"No..Lando.." He chuckles, walking towards him slowly, "I'm in love."

Landos face twists into a mix of confusion and pain as he holds his hands out to keep Max away.

"Thats..-thats not love. Thats f-fucking obsession."

Lando coughs out more blood, this time splattering onto Max's face. The crazed look on his face intensifying.

"So what?"

Max stabs this knife into Landos stomach again, deeper this time, twisting the knife.

He cries out again, collapsing to his knees from the pain. His eyes wide with disbelief as he coughs from the pain.

Max uses the tip of the knife to lift Landos chin up, forcing him to look Max. He smiles at him, as if he wasn't about to take the young drivers life.

"I'll take good care of her." Max says softly, before sinking the knife into the pulse point of Landos neck.

He tried to protest, his words being cut off by a soft gurgle as blood flows through his airway. He slumps forward, landing on the ground with a soft thud. A trail of blood leaves his mouth, pooling onto the floor, and his body shivers in pain, the life leaving his body.

Max leans back on his heels. Looking down at the body of the man who was his friend and fellow driver. He didn't feel bad.

[kelcemenow]

Drive Me Crazy - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1661

Warnings Strong language, but not much and a wee bit of flirting.

Huge thank you to the Anon who sent this in! They had such amazing words to say about my writing which I massively appreciate and then to top it off, had an incredible request for me! I only have experience with mechanics in the UK, so I've tried my best with this one! "I just recently got interested in Travis K. X reader stories and wanted to let you know, I read all of yours as quickly as I could. They are so well done and I couldn’t help but laugh/giggle and feel through each word you typed out. You’re doing amazing and I’m so glad to have stumbled onto your page. If you have any space for a request, I’d be curious about what Trav would think about having a military (like fighter pilot) or engineer or mechanic girlfriend. I see a lot of stories with him paired with models/singers/social media individuals (which are phenomenal!) but just wondering how he would be with a more tomboy like girlfriend!"

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The dialling tone rang loudly in your ear for a few seconds as you wedged the office phone between your head and left shoulder. You typed up a couple of notes on the computer when the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it that Mr Kelce? It's Y/N from KC Auto repairs." You said, checking your notes.

A deep voice laughed, "Hey, yeah it's Travis. You can call me Travis."

"Oh, okay Travis. I had a look at your car and there is a problem with your combustion chamber. You see, vehicles need the right amount of air and fuel to mix and then-"

"Woah woah, you lost me at combustion." Travis said, "Just tell me, is the car a goner?"

You giggled, "No, you just need new spark plugs. It's around $250 including labour."

You could hear him sigh down the line, "Oh! That's fine then, do what you need to do."

"Okay, sure thing. I'll be finished with it by 4pm. Are you able to come and collect around then?"

There was a short silence, "I've got a crazy day. I got a couple of things to figure out first, I don't know if I'll be around."

You checked your schedule in the large leather bound diary in front of you, "Well, I'll be in the shop late working on some other cars, so if you drop by anytime before 7, I should still be here."

"Awesome, I'll stop by!"

"Great, catch you later." You placed the phone back onto the receiver and quickly jotted down in your diary details to remind yourself to replace Travis' spark plugs.

The office door opened and the noises of the shop floor grew increased for a second before they were muffled again as the door closed.

"Hey sport." You felt your Dad's hands on your shoulders, "Your headache gone yet?"

"Not really. I already got two cars to finish up, a service and now these new spark plugs for do for that GMC." You pointed your pen in the direction of Travis' car as you began to write out a worksheet.

Your Dad leant down across your shoulder, "I could do the GMC for you?"

"Dad no, Dr Martin said you had to take it easy." You covered the worksheet with your hand.

He swiped your hand away, "Oh come on, I'm fine! It's spark plugs."

You laughed until you noticed that his face had quickly changed when he caught sight of the sheet, "What's wrong?"

His once rosy cheeked complexion was now a ghostly shade of white, "Travis Kelce...you have Travis Kelce's car here?"

"Yeah, why?"

His eyes widened as he looked towards the shop floor, "His car is in my shop? The GMC, that's Travis Kelce's car?"

Your eyebrows lowered in confusion, "Yeah, he dropped it off this morning?"

"Oh man! Y/N, you gotta let me do it! The boys at the fishing lake aren't gonna believe this!"

"What is going on? Who is this guy?" Your voice was beginning to heighten in pitch.

Your Dad lifted his sweatshirt up to reveal a bright red jersey with the number 87 emblazoned on the front, "Travis Kelce is one of the greatest tight ends the Chiefs have ever seen!"

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your diary for the day.

"Which you would know if you ever watched football with me!" He poked you in the arm with his finger.

You tore off the worksheet from the pad, "If I give you this, will you stop shouting and making my headache worse?"

You Dad carefully took the paper from your hands and gently kissed the top of your head before dancing his way out of the office and onto the shop floor, Travis' GMC waiting in the corner of the garage.

______________________________________________________________

Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, you noted that it was 6.25pm. All of your colleagues had already left for the day, leaving you in the shop by yourself. You preferred working alone but your Dad's business had built up a good reputation in the city for being the best repair shop and it was always busy.

When you were younger, you had always preferred fixing your Barbie's houses to make them better as apposed to playing with the dolls themselves. As a teenager you could always be found in the workshop tinkering with tools and learning everything you could from your Dad. You started helping him in his shop during the summer and when you left school, he took you on and gave you a job. You saved every penny you could and when your Dad needed to take a step back from work, you bought into the business, running it alongside him.

You gazed up at the underside of the Ford that was lifted above you, squinting as the night drew in. The crackled radio played in the background and as you hummed along to yourself, the faint sound of footsteps seemed to blend into the music.

"Um...hello?"

You turned your head towards the direction of the deep voice, a silhouette standing in the doorway of the shop.

You squinted further, trying to make out any defining features but to no avail. "Karl, if this is you trying to scare the shit out of me, you gotta try harder than that." You shook your head and dropped your wrench down onto the floor, the sound of the metal hitting the cement loudly echoing in the vast room.

The figure stepped further forwards, his hands held up, "I'm sorry...it's Travis. I'm just here to pick up my car?"

You felt your cheeks flush red, "Travis? I am so sorry, that was really unprofessional of me."

"Hey, it's all good! Don't worry, I probably shouldn't have lingered in the doorway watching you."

Your mouth twisted to the side, "You were watching me?"

His eyes grew bigger, "Not in a creepy way. But now I've said that it wasn't in a creepy way, it sounds like it was in a creepy way."

You wiped your hands on your towel, smiling slightly as you listened to him struggle.

"I was just...impressed. Like I said earlier, I have no clue when it comes to shit like this." He looked around the room at the various tools and parts that were dotted around.

You slowly nodded your head, "Well, thanks...I guess?"

Travis scratched the back of his head and looked down at his feet, a clear indication that he was nervous. You took the opportunity to really look at him. He was wearing bright white trainers, dark wash jeans and a Louis Vuitton jacket with a white shirt underneath. He was so pristine and you were quite concerned that he wouldn't make it out of the shop without a smudge of oil on him.

"So, my car?"

You looked towards it, digging the keys from one of your many pockets, a couple of bolts coming out with them, "Uh yeah, my Dad took great pride in fixing your car. He's a big fan."

"Oh yeah? Well please, tell your Dad I said thanks!" He smiled before looking around again, "You on your own?"

You sighed, "Yeah, I got a few things to clear up on these babies and then I'll be done."

He unlocked his car and opened the door, pausing for a second before he turned back to you, "Wanna go for a drink?"

Your heart stopped for a beat or two and your chest tightened, a feeling you weren't used to. Men didn't usually ask you out, especially not at work. You didn't exactly make an effort to only be covered in grease all day and everyone knew that your Dad wouldn't be far away, meaning most potential dates kept you very much at an arms length. But here he was, an exception.

"I've still got some work to do." You looked down at your current appearance, "And I might not be down with the latest trends, but I'm pretty sure no one will let me in anywhere looking like this."

Travis smiled coyly, "So, is that a no?"

You winced at his hidden hurt, guessing he wasn't used to women turning him down, "Thanks...but no." Digging into your pocket, you retrieved his invoice, black fingerprints smudged across the paper.

As he reached to take the invoice, his large hand covered yours and you subconsciously held your breath, a fast heat rising to your face.

"No sweat, I might see you around anyway?" He jumped into his car, turning the engine on, "I'll wire you the money for the spark...things."

You nodded in acknowledgement, watching as he pulled away carefully out of the garage and into the night. You unclenched your shoulders and laughed to yourself, turning your attention back to the Ford.

______________________________________________________________

"A package? Who from?" You questioned.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. I didn't open it."

"We never get packages."

You became slightly distracted as Jordan tugged at the bottom hem of his hoodie and pulled it up and over his head, his shirt lifting up slightly to reveal a peek at his toned abs. He threw the garment onto the floor beside him and gazed at you.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, "Uh...I'll go and have a look now."

You furrowed your brows, making your way towards the office and shaking your head on the way, exacerbated at yourself.

On the desk was a small brown package with no indication of who it was from. You ripped open the paper and carefully pulled out the framed photograph. It was a picture of Travis midgame, the ball safely clutched in his gloved hands and speeding towards the end zone. He had signed the corner of the photograph. You turned the frame over to see some slightly messy handwriting on the back.

"For your Dad."

You smiled at his kind gesture.

"Let me know when you want to go for that drink."

______________________________________________________________

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[unsoundedcomic]

How's the aftermath of the Hurricane going around in those parts? It's been a bit, and I'm a little curious for a tale from a local.

My mom sent me some good photos yesterday. Here's where the Rays play, the roof got all tattered and they really have no idea when or if they're going to fix it, since they want to build a new stadium anyway

Here's where a wall peeled open on an old apartment building and you can see the stairwell inside

Here's where a construction crane fell and smashed into... I think the newspaper offices

All this destruction is just kinda chilling. It takes a lot of money and decision-making to do something about it.

In the neighbourhoods, it's a lot of debris everywhere. My neighbour's aluminum shed is still on the curb, waiting to be picked up. My roof repair is three months off, but patched for now. Fridge is stocked back up. Fence can chill. We don't have a dog at present so there's no rush to fix it and get the back yard sealed up.

I know a lot of people who had their houses flooded and can't live there until the walls are replaced. That's what happens. The water soaks into the drywall and you have to rip that out asap so the studs beneath can dry out and not go moldy. It's a costly and time-consuming pain in the ass and it's really hard to live in the house until it's done.

I know a lot more people who had their car flooded and ruined. There's no meaningful public transportation here, so that's kind of a death sentence. No used cars left to buy, very few rentals in stock. You're left relying on uber, which is an expensive proposition.

This did not happen to me since I took my car to high ground, at the shelter. I evacuate as much for that as for personal comfort. My car would have been toast here, the driveway is not high enough and I only drive a little Civic.

The most destruction came from flooding, and that was in certain neighbourhoods and all along the beach. The beach is really messed up.

On the whole though, it all could have been much worse. If it had gone into Tampa Bay instead of just those few miles further south, it would all look more like western North Carolina does now.

[eddievanhammettmunson]

The Repair Boy

Eddie Munson x Female reader

Authors note- hola my ghouls, gremlins, and fellow goblins. I’m back with another Eddie one shot. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated. <3

Warnings- 18++++ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH MY WORK PLEASE. Foul language, Protected P in V smut, oral female and male receiving.

Summary- After your dad needs his guitar fixed you meet a rather handsome repair boy. 5.2k words

“Come on darlin I wanna get there before they close”

“You’re a grown man I don’t understand why I have to go with you”

“Cause I’m your father and I don’t want to go alone that’s why”

You grab your jacket and join your father on his way out the door. On the way out the door your dad picks his guitar case up off the ground and swings it around in his hand.

“Watch out with that thing dad! You’re lucky you don’t break it!”

“I’m already taking it to get repaired. What’s a little more damage.”

“I thought that thing was your precious baby?”

“Oh trust me she is. Now get in the car.”

You get in the car and your father drives to the local instrument store. You both walk in together and your father makes a beeline for the sales counter.

A woman greets him and asks what he’s there for. She points him in the direction towards the back of the store to the repair counter. Your father and yourself walk up to the counter and ring the bell. You wait a moment while you hear rummaging from the background and out pops this tall, gangly, (rather handsome) young fellow around your age holding a guitar.

Your father greets him with a smile and tells him the problems he’s having with his guitar. The young man listens intently while studying the guitar and even chimes in a few times to compliment the guitar. “An 81’ skylark huh? She’s a beaut” his voice has you weak in the knees.

It’s when you hear his voice you realise you’ve done nothing but stare down the poor boy since you got there. What else you notice is he hadn’t looked at you once. For all you knew he had no idea you were there.

“So sir for the repairs it’s gonna be about $40”

“Really only $40? That’s amazing. Darlin, did you hear that? Only $40 to fix my baby!” Your dad turns to face you and for the first time since you walked in the shop so does the repair boy. His eyes meet yours and you can tell he checks you out really fast by the way his eyes scan up and down your body.

He quickly coughs and turns his attention back to the counter in front of him.

He rings up your father and tells your father the guitar should be ready either later in the day or the next day and that he’d call when the guitar was ready. As he turns to leave you catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his arm. What appears to be a bat. The words seem to tumble out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“I like your tattoo.”

He stops and looks at you and then back down at his tattoo on his arm.

“Thanks.” There’s a silence between the two of you and your father clears his throat to get your attention. You turn away from the repair boy and make your way out the door with your father.

On the car ride home it’s relatively silent except for the music blasting from the radio. Until your dad breaks the silence.

“i rEaLLy LiKed yOuR tATtOo” he pretended to flip his hair and bat his eyelashes.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh come on sweetheart you were totally drooling over that boy.”

You blush and try to sputter out some excuse but nothing comes out. Instead your face just keeps getting deeper shades of red.

“It’s okay sweetheart breathe. And besides you’ll totally have a chance with him.”

“DAD! What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh come on did you see how hard he was trying to not look at you cause I was there. And then the second he did look at you he looked like he was damn well about to faint on the floor.”

“Okay even if that was true what do you mean I totally have a chance with him. I’ll probably never see him again.”

“Sure you will.”

“When?”

“When you go by yourself to pick up my guitar whenever that boy calls.”

“What! Why!”

“Cause I work tonight so I will be sleeping when we get home and I will be sleeping tomorrow so you can go pick up the guitar by yourself.”

You go quiet on the rest of the car ride home. Thinking about that stupid boy. Hell you didn’t even know his name yet his smile and his long hair and his tattoos are all you can think about.

As you get home and day fades into night you await the phone call. It doesn’t Come. Instead you busy yourself with catch up assignments that you picked up from the school yesterday. You were hoping to impress some of your new teachers by having some schoolwork done before your first official day at Hawkins high.

As much as you try to distract yourself that boy keeps flashing through your mind. You wondered about him. Maybe he went to the same school you did and you didn’t even know it yet. What if you had classes together? What if what if what if. Eventually you realised none of your work was getting done and you decided to call it a night.

The next day you were going about your tasks of the day. Unpacking boxes and setting up furniture around the house when you hear a ring coming from the kitchen. The phone on the wall was ringing. You run over to the phone and answer it rather quickly. A female voice is on the phone much to your disappointment.

“The guitar is ready to be picked up whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you very much. I’ll be there shortly to pick it up.”

You got dressed in a particularly cute outfit (that may or may not have shown a little too much cleavage) with some cute shoes to match. You got in your dads car and drove to the instrument shop.

Exiting the car you feel yourself starting to get a little nervous. Now that your dad wasn’t here to cockblock you. It was completely in your hands what to do with this boy. Would you chicken out and say nothing? What if your dad was wrong and the boy had absolutely 0 interest in you. Or worse what if the boy already had a girlfriend.

Shaking the thoughts out of your head you open the door to the shop and walk past the girl at the front desk and head straight to the back repair counter. At first you see nobody but as you get closer to the counter you can hear noises. Clanging and banging.

Then a loud bang followed by an “OUCH FUCK”

Then from under the counter pops out the boy from yesterday. Rubbing the top of his head in a soothing motion. You try not to giggle at the boy but you just can’t help it. When he hears your giggle his eyes snap over to you and where you’re standing. He clears his throat and you can see a blush fan across his face.

“Uh hi. How can I help you?”

“I was in here yesterday with my dad. I’m

Here to pick up his guitar.”

“Right! Right! Of course! Skylark girl. You said you liked my tattoo.”

“Yup! That’s me! So how’s my dads guitar? That thing is his baby and if it’s not in perfect condition when I get home I’m pretty sure he’ll kill both of us.”

“Oh don’t you worry I fixed her up real nice. She’s good as new.”

He turns around and grabs the guitar case out of a stack of other guitar cases. He turns back to you and sets the guitar on the counter.

“You wanna see it?”

“Can I?”

He pops open the case and lets you look at it. You go to touch it but quickly stop yourself out of habit and retract your hand.

“Something wrong, skylark?”

“Huh?”

“Well you aren’t touching the guitar you’re just kind of staring at it.”

“Oh. Right. Well I’m not really allowed to touch it. Like I said that thing is my dads baby. Pretty sure he loves it more than he loves me so touching it would just be a death sentence.”

“He’s not here you know. He’ll never know.”

“Somehow he would. He’s magic like that.”

“So you’re telling me your dad will let a complete stranger like me handle his guitar but he won’t let a sweet little thing like you touch it?”

You blush due to his words and the casual way he said it. Little did you know your blush didn’t go unnoticed.

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Well that’s a cryin shame. You play any instruments?”

“I actually have my own guitar and a keyboard but I don’t play much”

“So you have your own guitar and he still won’t let you touch his. Come on, he's not here. How about you show me how much you can play? Plus you’ll be testing it out for me. Seein how it plays after my repairs.”

You reach out to touch the guitar very slowly but this time your hand actually makes contact. It felt naughty touching the guitar after being told not to so many times. You pick up the guitar out of the case so gently as if it were made from glass. You sit in a nearby stool and begin to strum away. Playing a little tune you’d learned from a friend long before you moved here.

As you finished playing you look up to find the boy staring at you intently. He has a lopsided smile on his face.

When he sees you’re done playing he does a nice light clap. “So what's your name mystery guitar girl?”

“Y/n L/n”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You blush again and look away from him and down at the guitar in your lap. And to think you thought you’d be the one having to make the moves while he’s out here just openly flirting with you.

“So why haven’t I seen you around before? Pretty small town. I’m assuming you’re new around here. Or just visiting?”

“My dad and I just moved here actually.”

“You go to Hawkins high yet?”

“I start there Monday. I’ll be a senior.”

“Same here. Well I mean I already go there and technically I’ve been a senior for 3 years now but I’ll still be one when you get there on Monday.”

You laugh a little and shake your head.

“Jeez 3 years of senior year. I’d hate that.”

“Livin the dream sweetheart livin the dream.”

“You know guitar boy you’re pretty cool.”

“Oh fuck I forgot my name tag. I’m Eddie by the way. Eddie Munson.”

“Pretty name for a pretty boy.”

He smiles wildly at you and reaches out to shake your hand. There’s a bit of a spark when your hands touch that makes you jump back slightly. When you let go of his hand yours feels colder. Emptier.

“So I should take this guitar and get it back to my dad. But I was wondering what time you get off.”

Eddie stood there shocked. He knew the two of you had been flirting but no part of him actually expected you to ask him out. Hell if you knew what his reputation around town and at school was you probably wouldn’t be asking him this. But you’re new so all that influence hasn’t gotten to you yet. Maybe he can win you over before the masses do.

“I get off at 6…why?”

“Well I was wondering if you’d want to hangout with me. Maybe show me around town a bit. I haven’t been able to explore much.”

“I’d love to show you around sweetheart. It’s a date. Here give me your address and I’ll come pick you up when I’m off work so we aren’t taking two separate cars.”

You write down your address on the back of the receipt and hand it to him. Eddie closes the guitar case for you and hands it to you over the counter. You leave the shop and drive home with a wide smile on your face.

When you get home you find your father in the kitchen eating some food before his night shift at work.

“How’s my baby? Is she fixed?”

“Good as new pops good as new”

You gently set the guitar case down on the kitchen table and your dad wipes his hands clean before opening the case and gently picking up the guitar. He starts strumming away and a wide smile grows on his face.

“God I haven’t heard her play like that in quite a while. That boy really fixed her up. Even cleaned all the old stickers off. Should have given that boy a tip.”

Your father looks up at you and can’t help but notice the gentle smile and glow you seem to carry about you.

“Speaking of that boy. Howd it go?”

“Well he’s picking me up when he gets off work and he’s going to show me around town. If that’s alright?”

“That’s fine. Just remember to be safe. In every way.”

“DAD!”

“I'm just trying to make sure I don’t have any grandkids before you graduate highschool.”

You grab water from the fridge and turn to leave the room. You had a few hours to get ready for your date. Your dad leaves for work leaving you home alone.

Around 6 pm you begin putting the finishing touches on your outfit. As you get dressed you begin to blast Iron Maiden on the surround sound stereo. Singing along to run to the you barely hear the faint ringing of the doorbell. You quickly turn down the stereo and open the door. Your eyes are greeted by the site of Eddie standing there with a very wide smile on his face.

“Iron Maiden?” Is the first words out of his mouth.

“Yup love me some maiden. Pops raised me on the shit.”

“So skylark you ready?”

“Ready Eddie!”

You grab your jacket and turn off the stereo and follow Eddie to his van parked in your driveway. You reach for the door handle but Eddie beats you to it and opens the door for you. You climb in and buckle your seatbelt as he makes his way around the van and into the driver's seat.

“So Eddie, where around town are you gonna show me?”

“Well sweetheart we’ve got some cool spots in town that I thought you might like. But you’ll just have to see when we get there.”

Eddie lets you pick the music on the car ride and of course you choose some Iron Maiden. Eddie enjoys getting to sing along with you but he doesn’t sing very loud. Much rather preferring to hear your voice. After a bit of driving Eddie pulls into the parking lot of a building that says “Arcade” attached to a building that says “Family Video ''.

You begin to get excited. Back in your hometown you loved going to the arcade and you’re ecstatic to learn that Hawkins has one. Eddie looks over at you and can see the excitement written across your face and breathes a sigh of relief to see you’re happy. He gets out of the car first and makes his way around the van to open the door for you once more. You practically jump out of the van and grab his hand dragging him towards the arcade doors.

“Where should we start!? There’s so many games in here!”

“My friends Dustin and Max really like dig dug. Maybe start there?”

You sit on the stool in front of the machine and begin to play as Eddie stands behind you and watches. You’re very good at the game and after only a few tries you beat both max and Dustin’s high scores. Eddie knows the kids are gonna lose it when they see this.

“Shit sweetheart you’re pretty badass.”

“I wanna try that one over there. The one called dragons lair.”

“Go ahead sweetheart but I’ve been told it’s impossible to beat.”

“If my party and I can beat vecna I can totally beat some dragon and rescue a princess.”

Eddie is left dumbfounded by what he just heard. You start to rise from the dig dug machine and make your way over to the dragons lair game but Eddie gently grabs your arm and spins you to face him.

“You play D&D!?”

“Well yeah? That hard to believe munson?”

Eddie's thoughts are racing a million miles a minute. It’s like you’d stepped out of his wildest dreams. A girl who plays guitar, listens to maiden, plays games, plays D&D and is ridiculously hot, is on a date with him.

Eddie doesn’t think about what he does next. He leans in and leaves a quick peck on your lips and you squeak in surprise.

“Shit sorry! I just- well you’re really- and I just-“

You cut off his rambling by kissing him again. This time not just a peck but enough for your lips to meld to his plump soft lips. You both sigh into each other's mouths. Eventually you pull back with a bright smile on your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I walked into your shop yesterday.”

Eddies knees practically wobble. He can’t believe you’re real. He must be dreaming. But he lets you drag him over to dragon's lair and he watches as you rescue the princess on your first attempt. Because of course you do. He watches as you type in your initials and they go just above Lucas’s where he’d rescued princess Daphne. Now the princess is yours.

After you play a few more games and prove yourself to be even more of a badass, Eddie suggests you guys move on to the next phase of the night.

“Wait Eddie! Can we go next door and pick out a movie?”

“What?”

“Well I was thinking after we do whatever you have planned that we could go back to mine and watch a movie. My dad works nights so it would be just us.”

Oh. Oh. Eddie wasn’t prepared for this. The possibility of spending the night with you alone in your house. But how could he say no. Why would he say no? He’d have to be a mad man to turn down that opportunity.

“Well sure thing sweetheart.”

He walks you over to family video hand in hand and as the door swings open a voice calls out.

“Munson?”

“Eddie?”

You look up to see a rather handsome boy behind a counter and rather lovely looking girl with him. Both looking at you and Eddie hand in hand.

“Hey Steve. Hey Robs.” He guided you towards the counter with him and introduced you.

“So you and Munson areeeee?” Steve says with a raised brow.

Eddie opens his mouth to answer but nothing comes out. So you take over.

“We’re on a date.”

Steve and Robin both look surprised as does Eddie. Eddie is shocked that you’d admit to being on a date with him and both Steve and Robin are surprised he has a date in the first place. You look around and note everyone’s surprise.

“Am I missing something?”

“No nope, not at all sweetheart. Here how about you go pick out a movie while I catch up with Steve. Robin, how about you go help her pick out a movie.”

Robin comes from behind the counter and walks with you to the horror section where you begin to pick out a movie. Robin decided to test your intentions with her friend.7

“So you and Munson huh? What made that happen?”

“Well I just moved here and met Eddie at the instrument store yesterday. Couldn’t stop thinking about him to be honest.”

“Aww that’s cute. So what are you guys up to?”

“Well he took me to the arcade and we’re gonna do some stuff after this although he won’t tell me what. And the. We’re going to go to my house and watch a movie.” You grab the shining and The Thing. You look over at Eddie talking to Steve and you can’t help but wonder what they’re saying. There’s no doubt in your mind they’re talking about you but you want to know why Eddie’s got such a wide smile on his face.

“Dude how the hell did you score her?”

“I didn’t man. She just kind of wanted me. It was wild. She’s amazing man. We’ve only known each other for like a day but I’m pretty sure we were made for each other man.”

Steve puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and gives him a light hit.

“Congrats man. So what are you two up to.”

“Well, I just took her to the arcade. Which she was a total badass at by the way. Then I'm gonna take her to the diner to get some food. And then I guess now we’re going back to her place to watch a movie.”

“Back to her place huh?” Steve says with a raised brow. “You ready for that munson?”

“Actually, no. Wasn’t really planning any of this today.”

Steve looks over his shoulder to make sure you aren’t looking. Luckily you seem to be in a conversation with Robin. He quickly reaches in his pocket and retrieves his wallet and pulls out a condom and slides it over the counter towards Eddie who’s face quickly turns a deep shade of red and swipes the condom off the counter and shoves it into his wallet.

After talking a little more you make your way back to the counter with Eddie where he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Robin and Steve check out your movies and send the two of you on your way. On the way out you turn around and see Steve and Robin high-five through the window. You smile to yourself.

After getting in Eddie’s van he drives you to a nearby diner called Bennys and the two of you order a couple burgers and fries and a single milkshake to share. You’re sitting on the same side of the booth and he keeps his arm around your shoulder the entire time.

You both spend hours talking and learning more about each other but somehow it feels like you two have known each other for millennia. At the end of the meal they bring the check and Eddie pulls out his wallet to pay for the meal. When he opens his wallet a double XL condom falls on the table in front of your face and Eddie tries to grab it as fast as he can but knows you’ve already seen it. His face goes deep red.

All you do is kiss his cheek and lean up to whisper in his ear. “Wanna go watch those movies now?”

He nods his head yes a little too eagerly making you giggle. He leaves the money on the table and the two of you run out of the restaurant giggling like children.

The drive back to your house was very fast. Considering Eddie didn’t stop once. The van comes to a stop and Eddie gets you out of the van and the first thing you do is kiss him. You guys kiss all the way till he has you pressed up against your front door.

Through breaths you say. “Eddie-“ kiss “I need-“ kiss “to open” kiss “the door” kiss kiss kiss.

He finally takes a step back and lets you open the door but the second the two of you are in the house you’re back on each other again. You kiss him and guide him all the way to your bedroom. Your hands are tangled in his hair and his hands are roaming your body. He squeezes your hips and pulls your body flush against his where you can feel a rather prominent bulge pressed against you. A part of you had wondered in the diner if he’d really need a double XL condom but now you were thinking that even that may be a little small.

You guide him to your bed until his knees his the mattress and he pulls you down on top of him as you two fall onto the mattress. Neither of you breaking the makeout session.

You sit yourself on top of him and begin to grind down onto his bulge making him groan into your mouth and you begin to moan back when he bucks his hips up to meet yours.

“Sweetheart.”

You stop kissing for a second. Both out of breath with kiss bruised lips.

“Yeah Eddie?”

“Unless you want me to blow my load in my jeans I think we should-“

You’ve already got the message so you sit up straight and start removing your clothes. Eddie sits up and starts removing his clothes as well and you can’t help but get distracted by his tattoo littered body. He notices you’re staring.

“Like what you see sweetheart?”

“Very much.” You lean forward and start to leave kisses on each of the tattoos you see. You leave kisses all the way down his torso and his happy trail and you stop right above his boxers. You look up at Eddie who has his head thrown back and is breathing heavily. You’ve never seen a prettier sight.

“Eddie?” Your voice is so soft and seductive it makes Eddie’s dick twitch in his boxers. He looks down at you in nothing but your bra and underwear and he’s ready to bust any second.

“Can I suck you off?”

And now he knows he must be dreaming. There’s no way you’re real. He knows he’s going to cum embarrassingly fast but he can’t find it in him to say no. Especially not when you’re looking up at him like that.

“Y-yeah.”

You smile and slide his boxers down his legs and let them on the floor. His dick flops up and almost hits his belly button. You’ve never seen a dick as impressive as his. It makes you press your thighs together. You see the precum leaking from the tip and you can’t help yourself. You lunge forward and lick the tip. Eddie let’s out a raspy moan. You then spit a glob on him and rub it down his shaft. You start to jerk him a little faster and Eddie’s moaning gets more frequent and higher pitched. His back starts to arch off the bed and you realize this poor boy is falling apart just from your touch. You decide to speed up the process and take him in your mouth. You begin to Bob your head up and down. He lets out a loud groan and he can feel his balls tighten. His dick is twitching. He’s close. You know he is.

Eddie warns you that he’s going to cum and he expects you to take your head off his dick but you don’t and before he knows it he’s spilling down your throat. And you’re moaning around him as he releases. Eventually he catches his breath and sits up and sees you touching yourself.

“Baby baby no. Come here let me do that for you. You took care of me, it's only fair I return the favor.”

You crawl up and trade places with him on the bed. He leaves a trail of kisses all over your body. He unclasps your bra and throws it across the room. He finds your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. He takes each of you nipples into his mouth giving them equal attention as his hand glides down your body and into your panties where he finds your soaked form.

It takes him a moment but when he finds your clit he starts to play you like a guitar. You're practically singing for him and he’s pretty sure he can get you to come from his fingers on your clit alone. But he doesn’t want that. He wants to taste you. So he makes his way down your body and slides your panties down your legs and discards them with the rest of the clothing.

When he finally sees your glistening pussy staring at him he can’t help but dig in and start eating you out like a man starved. You’re reaching for the sheets, his hair, the headboard, pillows. Anything you can grab to keep yourself grounded as you begin to scream out his name.

He licks you from clit to entrance and uses his fingers to swirl your clit as he continues to eat you out. You’re stomach begins to flutter and you can feel your orgasm building. Eddie moves his mouth back up to your clit and inserts two fingers into you and you sigh in relief. He starts pumping and curling his fingers until he finds that spongy spot that had you crumbling around him. Screaming out his name as you cream around his fingers.

He kisses his way back up your body as you come down from your high. You feel his cock hard and brushing against your thigh and you can’t help but moan. You reach between the two of you and grab hold of him and he moans.

You two make out for a moment more before he climbs off the bed and grabs the condom from his wallet. You watch as he rolls down his shaft and gives himself a few strokes. He then climbs back on the bed and situates himself between your legs.

He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. His fingers intertwined with yours and you both moan in sync as he bottoms out within you. You’ve never felt so full and he’s never felt a pussy that was made for him before.

You both have your eyes open as he begins to slowly pull out and sink back into you. You wrap your legs around his waist and he begins to pound into you.

The bed begins to shake and the headboard starts smacking against the wall so hard that you briefly worry about denying the wall considering it’s a new house but you’re too blissed out in pleasure to truly care.

His cock drives into you at just the right angle that has you seeing stars and you start to scream out his name. Your pussy begins to flutter around him.

Eddie reaches a hand between the two of you and starts to rub your clit and you’re done for. Clenching around him and cumming harder than you ever have before. Eddie continues to pound into you chasing his own high. As he pounds into you you reach around his back and begin to scratch his back. The sting of the scratches is what sends him over the edge spilling into the condom with the whimper of your name.

You two lay intertwined for a bit just catching your breaths. Occasionally peppering kisses on one another’s face. Eventually he pulls out and ties off the condom and throws it in the trash. You get up and go to the bathroom and come back to find Eddie gathering his clothes,

“Where are you going?”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me to stay.”

“Well we still have those movies to watch.”

Eddie sits back down in your bed and you crawl into the bed next to him and curl into his side. You both drift off while watching the thing.

When your father gets home and sees the van parked in his driveway he just knows it’s the repair boy.