#both are very grumpy and they’re neighbors

[gomzdrawfr]

Happily Ever After PriceRaven au where everything is good and they’re just so happy and please nothing go wrong—

Ha

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Eleven - Hoedown

W/C: 8K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"Got love-struck, went straight to my head."

"Slut!" - T.S.

A/N: it's been a while...

Masterlist

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The air smells of cinnamon and caramel corn, arguably the smell of Fall though if anyone were to ask you, you’d say Fall smelled of spice and smoke from the chimneys of your neighbors.  The caramel corn was a tad overpowering, a huge batch being stirred back in the kitchen, courtesy of Donnie’s secret recipe.  Her loving husband, Nathan was doing the heavy lifting, clearing the room so that the center allowed for a dance floor despite Eddie’s protests.  Tables covered with checkered tablecloths along with chairs were set around the edges of the room and the boys had lugged in the hay bales that were stacked out back and set them where you and Donnie had instructed around the bar, the theme of the night coming together before your eyes.

Nancy was gently tossing the apples into one of the barrels in preparation for apple bobbing while Robin was organizing the table that had been designated for the pie eating contest, ensuring that they had all the pies queued up, ready to be devoured for the prize of free drinks the rest of the night.  It wasn’t very logical, filling someone up with pie only for them to be rewarded with endless drinks and most definitely puke everything up, but you weren’t going to strike down the idea after Nathan insisted it would draw people in, that “they’d pay to see that kind of shit”.  

Finishing off a quick makeshift arrangement of sunflowers and filler leaves in a mason jar, you set it among one of the tables proudly.  It was simple but it did the job.  Satisfied with your work, you continue placing the remaining flowers on each table.  Nancy had assisted in putting them together, doing her part as you both sat at the bar earlier in the afternoon, chatting and giggling, squealing even, whenever you made a joke about Steve falling asleep again the second they got him in the door the previous morning at Eddie’s house.

It took a village, some would say, to get the man settled in his drunken haze.  Steve had been babbling about how he could walk, meanwhile he would nearly crumble into himself the second anyone let go, his head going falling back and limbs going limp.  Nancy insisted that you didn’t need to assist any further, that you should go get some sleep, but you didn’t want the night to end yet, you didn’t want to go home.

“Sunflowers.”  Eddie mutters, his eyes glued to the arrangements.  He stops what he’s doing, apparently searching for something behind the bar.  There’s a twinkle in his eyes and the softest smile on his lips, lights creating a glow around him that leaves you in awe.

“Yeah, do they look okay?” 

Suddenly, it was so easy to be insecure, even in the presence of a man who proved time and time again that you didn’t need to be.  The people pleaser lurking within you had been awakened once again and it was targeting your downfall, plotting your demise.  If there’s even a hint of displeasure in Eddie’s face, it would surely feed on it, ripping you apart bit by bit, declaring that nothing you ever did would be good enough for anyone ever again.  

He’s lost in thought again, eyes glazed over with some kind of appreciation as he taps his ringed knuckles against the bar.  He almost resembles a kid in a candy store yet you nearly take it as pity, that vengeful little monster within you ready to pounce on its prey and feast on you for the remainder of the night.  

“Yeah.”  He exhales.  “Yeah, they’re perfect.”  It’s said in a whisper, as if he had only wanted you to hear him although no one else was close enough to hear.

“Are you sure?”  You ask, hands placed atop the bar as you lean closer to him, worry etched into your features. “Cause I can–”

“They’re perfect.”  He affirms, louder this time.  His gaze finds yours, huge chocolate buttons so filled with such adoration you become overwhelmed, palms turning clammy.  The monster inside of you has been smothered for the time being.

“Yeah, yeah, the flowers are gorgeous, where do you want this?”  Steve interrupts, carrying in another hay bale, gesturing to it with a nod of his head.

Before you can scan the room and provide him an answer, Nancy is pushing behind him, guiding him away as she instructs him where to set it before sending you a knowing glance.  

Knowing what exactly, you weren’t sure.  

–

Sparkly plastic jewels adorn the hatband of the once standard black cowboy hat.  You’d catered it exactly to Eddie’s style, opting to only glue tiny silver jewels and graciously leaving out the little tassels you had so desperately wanted to add on.  Then you decided, too flashy.  This way, he could remain in all black and still have a little wow factor.  He was the owner after all, he needed to make a statement.

What really made it scream “Eddie” though, was the bandana adorned in skulls and crossbones wrapped around the hatband just under the jewels.  It was certain to gain his approval, being ‘metal enough’ and all, as he would say.  You’d worked on it for hours before tonight, meticulously placing each jewel and criticizing your own work countless times.  It hadn’t been easy sneaking one his bandanas away from him either although you were able to snag it from his back pocket one night and he still hasn’t seemed to notice.  That, or he just hasn’t said anything.

“As promised, I have your final accessory.”  You state proudly, standing in front of the desk of the tiny office, Eddie raising a curious brow at you from his seat.

You hold the hat behind your back, almost too giddy to continue hiding it from him but refraining from showing it to him a second too soon.  He had changed his clothes since you’d last seen him about an hour ago after finishing up the final touches for Hoedown Night.  By that point everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Now it was the calm before the storm, before patrons were let into the bar, before anyone could determine whether or not tonight would be successful or not, whether or not enough people would even show up.

From what you could see, Eddie wore his signature black jeans but rather than a regular black shirt or a faded band shirt, he wore a black button up that was slightly wrinkled and creased where it had obviously been folded previously.  He had it tucked into his jeans just right and though the creases should ruin the look, it only elevates it.

“Yeah?”  

His hesitation almost worries you although the slight purse of his lips and a raise of his brow indicate that he was more curious than anything.  A darling expression that could’ve gotten him anything he wanted should he ask.

“Mhm.”  Biting your lip in instant insecurity, you debate trashing the hat completely.  

He’s going to hate it.

It’s ugly.

He’s going to laugh.

“Wait…”  He interrupts your bombarding thoughts. 

Oh god.

“Don’t tell me you got me a hat–”

“I didn’t!”  You chirp, a lie clearly detected as you shut your eyes tight, the corners crinkling.  

“You did.”  

Opening your eyes only means being faced with the utter humiliation you’d brought upon yourself.  Why would you decorate a hat just for him?  You didn’t offer such courtesy to anyone else, he was going to think you were even weirder than you’d already lead on.  What started out as a nice gesture has suddenly turned into some kind of stalkerish behavior, your mind blurring the reality of the actual situation.

Except when you chance a peek, a nosy squint, all you can determine is that he was wearing a shit-eating grin.  Not the kind that was warning you that in seconds he would be poking fun at your little surprise.  But if not that kind then you were clueless as to what to expect.  No one sports a shit-eating grin without some kind of humor behind it, some kind of motive.

“That’s why you stole my bandana isn’t it?”

The tension in your neck releases, muscles relaxing though you hadn’t even realized they were straining until now.  You should be tense and stressed at the soft accusation but it just further pushes you gently into familiar territory.  The teasing tenderness between two complicated individuals who only seem to understand each other.  

“I-”  You choke out a laugh.

“You did steal it!”  Eddie points an accusatory finger your way, that big stupid grin still adorning his face.

“You weren’t supposed to know!”  You defend.  “It’s a surprise!”

“You’re not a very good thief y’know.”  

It’s not unlike you to shy away from someone’s gaze but the way he saunters out from behind his desk and towers over you causes your eyes to catch the ugly gray carpet.  Large brown irises were only going to force your honesty to display itself across your face like a giant billboard advertisement; honesty that even you yourself hadn’t even taken the time to address.

“I don’t tend to steal.”  You mutter bashfully.

A disapproving click of his tongue is all you can make out without viewing his face.

“No.”  He says sarcastically, maybe with a dramatic eye roll although you’re not brave enough to glance up yet.  “A shy little thing like you?”

You can’t help the tug at the corner of your lips, his perception of you somehow becoming so endearing despite your years of self loathing solely based on your timid nature and mumbled sentences.  At the moment, being shy didn't seem to be such an…inconvenience.  It didn’t seem so unattractive and repelling and moreso drew him in, it wasn’t a luxury you were often offered.  “Shy little thing” would usually constitute as insulting but when it rolls off his tongue, all you can feel is accepted as you are.  It didn’t secretly say “you need to get out of your shell more”, it stated “I like you as is.”

“I’m sorry!”  You whine, arms dropping to your sides and in the process, you’d long forgotten about the very hat you set out to hide and planned a grand reveal for.

“Don’t apologize.”  He gingerly grabs the hat, studying it from what you can see out of the corner of your eye.

Then it hits you.  

“Hey!”  You snap your attention to his face, catching a smug smile from him as he twirls the hat in calloused hands.

On instinct, you attempt to snatch it out of his reach, failing miserably as he extends it upward in the air, almost like a school bully would.  Your hands continue swatting at the air as if it will grant you any success in retrieving it but to no avail.  Once dull embers erupt into passionate flames within his eyes, something you haven’t quite witnessed yet, a playful and energetic aura haloing him effortlessly, like it had always belonged there.

“Whoa there, squirt.”  He jokes, waving your greedy hands away.

“Just–just tell me you don’t like it so I can go fix it or–or something.”  You demand with a childish stomp of your foot.

His features fall, gaze shifting between you and the hat in thought.  You’re in crisis mode though you can’t stop thinking about how good he looks with his button down, the top few buttons undone and showing off a portion of his pale chest, faded tattoos peeking out. 

“What?”  He shakes his head in confusion.  “Don’t like it?”  

“Eddie, just hand me the–”

“I think it’s perfect.”  He decides, plopping the hat on top of his frizzy curls.

There’s that word again.

Perfect.

–

The Bourbon had never been so alive-at least not in the past few months you’d become acquainted with it; in fact the closest it had been to being this animated was on Wednesday bingo nights.  Dusty corners that had never been touched prior were now spotless and though no one else in their right mind would care to inspect such corners, you took pride in playing a part in sprucing up the aging building.  The twang of a banjo and the squeal of a fiddle backed up by a cowbell filled the room, played by none other than Knife’s Edge famous trio, The Scott Brothers, also known as Donnie and Nathan’s lovely sons who had been musically inclined from a very young age, the band forming back in elementary school as Donnie explained.  They specialized in family gatherings and local events, a rowdy bunch that kept the pulse of any party going.  

Now you were witnessing it in real time, local superstars riling up the crowd that had accumulated in their best country attire, flannels and cowboy boots galore.  The pie eating contest was just about to begin, a group of burly men accepting the first challenge, hopefully encouraging others to participate in the next round.  Robin perched herself atop one of the haybales with her handy timer, a straw hat tossed over her dirty blond hair and a pale blue denim long-sleeve tucked into her high-waisted blue jeans.  

Jett had been in better spirits than you’d recently seen him in, a win in your book.  With a dramatic show of the boysenberry pies balanced in his hands, he made a point to “accidentally” stumble and nearly let the desserts fall face first onto the hay covered floor but managed to save them and earn himself a cheer from the crowd before setting them in front of the contestants.  You were just content that he wasn’t pouting anymore.

“You gonna give it a try?”  

His voice pipes up next to you, hands resting atop his flashy belt buckle as he nods to the commotion.  He reminded you of an oversized toddler, his boots a size or two too large for his feet that had been trudging around all evening and his hat lopsided on flattened hair.

“What?”  You cross your arms in a self-soothing manner, the act of becoming the center of attention inducing nausea in the pit of your stomach, blood pressure most likely spiking at the mere idea.  “N-no, I’m okay.”

“C’mon, why not?”  Jett shrugs.  “Live a little, Bambi.”  He chuckles.

It should have been harmless, though the name fell from his mouth and all you could detect was something vengeful within his intention.  It was unknown what exactly happened between him and Eddie besides Jett coming off as jealous and the metalhead not taking well to the younger man’s attitude.  Other than that, there was no determining what stirred up the disagreement in the first place and it only created more confusion in your swirling mind, why Jett felt some kind of possession over you.

“That’s not my name.” 

You avoid his eyes, only gauging his reaction out of the very tiny window of sight in your peripheral.  The goal was to set a very clear boundary however the task was proving difficult, confrontation never being your strong suit.  A human doormat was usually the role you slouched into at the first indication of discomfort in any conflict.

His shoulders stiffen, head tilting in your direction as he ponders your response.  You could just about choke on your breath, the air getting lodged in your throat as you held onto it in anticipation.  You only wish you could scramble over to where Dustin had been cracking peanuts and shoveling them into his mouth like he was an addict.  You didn’t even like peanuts.

“Not your name?”  Jett questions with a scoff.  “You sure about that?” 

There’s no intimidation, only slight annoyance written across his face which was far better considering that you were expecting an outburst.  Jett was still a stranger in a sense, he didn’t put any effort into really getting to know you and yet he had this sense of entitlement about him.  He was only a few years younger and it only got you thinking, were you so blissfully ignorant just years ago?

“Mhm.”  You begin fidgeting with your fingernail.

“Alright.”  He shows you his hands in surrender, the sentiment only being drowned out by the way his face contorts into a cocky expression.  “What are you being so short with me for?”  He asks, a humorless grin on his face.

“Excuse me?”  Your voice is smaller than you’d hoped for it to be.  Realistically you had no bite to your bark and really, the most you had was a pathetic yelp if anything.  “I-I don’t…Jett you’re the one–”

“Did Munson go off and start rumors about me?”  He laughs though you’re certain he finds nothing funny.

Robin shifts her attention to the current conversation from her perch on the haybale a few feet over, confusion taking over her freckled face.  You can barely make out “what the fuck” on her stained red lips, cherry pie most definitely that she had snuck more than a taste test of.  Your eyes widen, communicating almost telepathically, a silent alarm.

“Why–I’m not understanding.”

“You can tell me.”

He’s no longer that sweet kid you’d met a few months ago, his words were like darts targeting you and you almost felt the need to squeeze your eyes shut so you could brace for the impact.  He was calm but not civil, venom spilling from every syllable.  And you’d never once been involved in the quarrel he created in his brain, it wasn’t fair.

“Tell you what!?”  You manage to snap, desperately attempting to stand your ground and not scamper away like a wounded puppy.

“Bambi...”  Jett singsongs condescendingly.

“Stop!”  With clenched fists at your sides, you huff out a frustrated breath, no longer tiptoeing timidly around him.  “Stop…stop calling me that.”  Your warning tone has his facade faltering slightly, worry pressing into the lines forming between his eyebrows.

Robin makes her move the second your chest begins to heave and she can’t quite tell if it’s from panic or anger although she wasn’t going to wait around to find out as she throws a friendly arm around you to steer you anywhere else Jett was not, insisting that she needed your opinion on something.  

Everything felt hot, your cheeks were scorched and your veins were burning with embarrassment and undeniable betrayal at the hands of someone who was practically a stranger berating you over nothing in public.  Reality settled back in the moment Robin sat you down at one of the vacant bar stools, her shaky hands resting atop your shoulders.  It was obvious the two of you had been riddled with anxiety.  

“I-um, I didn’t know what to do and you were just–you were giving me that look.  Y’know, that look.”  She begins to ramble, big blue eyes darting around the room as if searching for her own reasons.  “The kinda look that’s, like, screaming ‘help’.  Like, get me the fuck out of here but also I tend to read things wrong so now I’m thinking I just booted you out of a conversation…”  She glances across the room over at Jett and then back at you.  “Oh god, did I–did I interrupt something–”

“No!”  You blurt out, grabbing onto her wrists as a means to soothe her jumbled thoughts.  “No, no, you did good, Robin.  Promise.”  A reassuring nod lets her know you’re sincere, her demeanor immediately relaxing.  “I don’t know what that was, honestly.  All I know is that I kinda feel like a piece of meat?”  

Robin nods in agreement, some kind of panic settling back in her wide eyes which only further worries you.  She had known Jett long before you afterall, maybe she knew something she wasn’t letting on.

“What–uh, what was he saying?  I, um, I only caught some of it.”  She questions with a nervous swallow.

“It…it’s stupid.”  You whisper, gaze falling to the floor.

“Try me.”  Her confidence momentarily overtakes her anxiety.

It was ridiculous.  You felt ridiculous.  The act of explaining why you didn’t take well to another guy calling you a certain nickname was the epitome of stupidity.  And yet you spilled it all to Robin, voicing your distaste for the word falling from Jett’s lips while avoiding your mind screaming at you that only Eddie was allowed to use that name.  Something told you Robin could read minds solely based off of the smirk she began to display amidst your ranting.  You ignored it despite your face heating up and your palms becoming clammy at the mere thought of the doe-eyed man.

“Steve!”  Nancy barrels out from the kitchen doors in her stylish checkered sweater tucked into the bluest of blue jeans.  You wouldn’t know she was attempting a cowboy getup if it weren’t for her straw hat covering her perfectly permed curls.  “Steve!”  She grits, hot on the man’s trail.

Steve continues to nearly strut toward the crowd of people awaiting the bell to initiate the pie eating contest.  Confidence drips from him, a cocky smirk painted on his face and a toothpick tucked in between his teeth as he rests his hands on his hips.  Tassels hang from his tan jacket, a blue button down underneath and some insanely tight jeans fitting him in all the right places.  

“Steve!”  Nancy hisses again, gesturing down to her jeans, urging Steve to glance down as she widened her eyes at him.  

“Alright, chill out, Nance.”  He pays no mind to her, eyes scanning the room in wonder.

“Steve, your fly is down and your shirt is stuck in the zipper.”  

His brown eyes nearly fall out of his head, hands rushing to cover the area as he rushes back toward the kitchen.  You can’t help but snicker along with Robin, Nancy shaking her head at Steve’s negligence to his crotch.  

“Whoa!”  You hear a surprised Eddie, only eliciting more giggles from you and Robin.

“Steve, if you were happy to see me you could’ve just said so!  No need to pull your dick out!”  

Thankfully, no one else idled near the kitchen doors, unable to hear the sudden vulgar outburst.  Covering your mouth and attempting to get a hold of your laughter, you rest your head on Robin’s shoulder in defeat, your body shaking with giggles while she almost squeals.  Nancy attempts to shush you both although she can’t contain her own laughter, her hand pressed into your arm as she lowers her head.

“S-stop.”  She gasps for air.  “It’s, it’s not funny!  Stop, he’s gonna be so embarrassed.”  She finally gets out, the corners of her mouth almost appearing to be permanently upturned.

“What’s so funny?”

Steve stands behind Nancy with furrowed brows and cherry red cheeks, hands resting on his hips in his standard pose.  Offense lingers in his voice, the kind that bantering friends exhibit only spurring the three of you on.  

“Oh–oh c’mon!”  He throws his arms up, shaking his head in disappointment.  “You too?”  He looks at you with a hint of a smile.  “You already corrupted her into joining your little ‘mess with Steve’ club.”  A harsh finger jabs against Robin’s shoulder, sending her stumbling back.

“I tried to tell you!”  Nancy shoves his arm with a large grin.  “You didn’t listen!”

“Not cool, Harrington.”  Eddie emerges from the kitchen, the perfect image of a bandit in an old western with his all black getup.  “You ever take a girl out before trying to get to third base?”  He jokes, throwing an arm around Steve.

This was the first time this evening you’d seen him in his full outfit, hat and everything.  You weren’t usually into cowboys but he made it look good.  The hat was worn pridefully on top of his wild curls and he’d accessorized with his signature handcuff belt.  The one thing you couldn’t convince him to do was wear actual cowboy boots, the man instead insisting that he would only be wearing combat boots but you weren’t complaining, especially not now as you witnessed the final product.

“Shut up.”  Steve mumbles.

Eddie steals Steve’s hat with his free hand, ruffling his hair, no doubt messing it up in retaliation.  Steve swats at Eddie’s hand, shoving him off and grabbing his hat back with a fond smile pulling at his lips, his stubborn act disintegrating.

“Buy me a drink first.”  Eddie winks, only pulling more laughter from you.

“Very funny.”  Steve says blandly, eyes squinting.  “But I’ve actually got my eyes on that blonde over there.  And I’m gonna ask her to dance.”  He says matter of factly.

Eddie bows dramatically and gestures toward the dance floor, the center of the room covered in a healthy layer of hay.  As if he couldn’t put on more of a show, he removes his hat and places it over his chest.

“Your maiden awaits.”  

With a playful shove to Eddie’s chest, Steve makes his way across the room.  You can vaguely make out Dustin’s voice amongst the loud cowbell and shouting, excitement bubbling out of him as he cheers on the contestant he bet on.  A familiar tune begins to consume the room, each individual glancing to their peers in recognition.

Robin and Nancy begin to drift off into the center of the room, bouncing to the beat.  The smile on your face physically hurts but you aren't complaining, you couldn’t remember the last time you smiled so big and uncontrollably.  You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d connected so well with a group of people, if ever.

You were perfectly content, for once.  A social setting that would normally have you chewing your lips to shreds and nervously rubbing up and down your arms was actually proving to be…fun.  Observing from your stool, you didn’t even feel left out as you usually would under any other circumstances.  You can’t quite recall a reason for your anxiety laying so low though you suppose it has something to do with the acceptance everyone had granted you.  Nancy and Robin being so kind and taking you in right away, Steve and Dustin already treating you like a sibling amongst their little group.  You didn’t know what you did to deserve such treatment but it’s apparent you had done something right if for only once in your life.

Tearing your eyes away from the scene playing out before you, several pairs dancing about the room without a care in the world, your gaze catches an awkward Eddie leaning against the bar just inches away.  One of his curls twists around his finger, a nervous habit you’d picked up on.  The room erupts into a collective, tipsy, rendition of Take Me Home, Country Roads.  Loud clapping and hoots and hollers echo off the walls, and everyone sings.  

You knew Eddie has always been considered an outcast throughout his entire life based on what he’d shared with you but you never would have imagined him looking as bashful as he did now, a true wallflower just like yourself.  Though, while you were content in just observing, he seemed more uncomfortable, more lonely.  

Glancing back to the dance floor, Donnie sways to the music with her husband, lovingly holding onto each other in a drunken haze.  Every so often he jokingly spins her and dips her, something you’re finding yourself envious of but quickly swallow back the feeling.  Anyone in their right mind would want to be treated like the sun.

Dustin makes his way over to Nancy and Robin, Robin making a scene by initiating that one dumb lasso dance move and pulling him in, earning them several cheers which only created bigger smiles among their faces.  You’re sure you could just saunter over and fit right in.  But it didn’t feel right, leaving Eddie to be a wallflower on his own.  Especially since he didn’t seem too sure of himself, his teeth now chewing on his nail while his deep brown eyes surveyed the room.

“Wanna dance?”

It’s uncertain when exactly Steve made his way back over to you, it seemed like he had just appeared out of thin air but you could probably blame it on the fact that you were too enamored with the energy of the room.  His hand extends itself toward you, his shoulders shrugging as if to say ‘got anything better to do?’.  

“What happened to your blonde maiden?”  You ask, hoping Eddie would hear and maybe you’d earn at least a chuckle.

You didn’t, Eddie hadn’t even been listening, too busy in his head it would seem.  Steve shoves his free hand into his pocket, shaking his head in disappointment as he retires his hat from his sweaty head, abandoning it on top of the bar.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”  He frowns.  “Just need my friends.”  A sincere smile tugs at his lips, his eyebrows knit together in that way that he almost looks worried though you know it’s his empathy coming through.

You nod, offering him a close mouthed smile as you hop off the stool and grab his hand, dragging him toward the crowd.  Taking both his hands in yours, you start to sway to the song, playfully singing to each other in an overdone country accent.  Steve assists you in spinning, getting more and more into the song with each passing second, his hair bouncing with every movement.

“I dunno how to dance.”  You giggle, accidentally stepping on his foot.

“That’s okay!”  He grins.  “I’m not sure I do either.”  

Amongst all the celebrating and the several toasts people are raising to each other, your eyes meet large round coffee colored irises, a certain sadness to them that was also diluted with a fond gaze.  Over Steve’s shoulder, you watch Eddie, and he watches you.  The biggest smile causes your cheeks to ache, your teeth on full display just for him.  His shoulders shake with a laugh, a whiskey and coke now firmly grasped in his hand as he shyly looks down into the glass like it could give him some kind of advice.

As Steve leads you both in a circle of missteps and stumbling, he catches sight of what had made your face light up like a damn Christmas tree.  It goes on for another minute or so, stolen glances between two pining individuals.  He can see it, he knows it all too well.  He’s worn that same look before.  It’s too distinct to go unnoticed by him.  

He used to look at Nancy like that.

“Hey, I think I want a drink.”

Steve wastes no time in dragging you behind him toward the bar.  It takes you by surprise and in all honesty, you weren’t quite done dancing and at least would’ve liked to get to the end of the song before returning to your little stool of solitude.  Steve calls for Jett’s attention behind the bar, ordering himself a vodka cranberry much to your surprise.

“I’m actually feeling a little queasy.”  He grips his stomach, twisting his face in discomfort.  “Think you could take over for me, Ed?”  

Eddie nearly chokes on his drink, setting the glass down as he clears his throat repeatedly.  He points to himself with a questioning look, knowing damn well that Steve knew he couldn’t dance.  It was even more humiliating that he’d never danced with a girl before and Steve more than likely also knew that.  Steve responds with a nod, his brow cocked, a look of urgency crossing his features.

“Steve, are you sure–”  You attempt to chime in.

“Yes, go!  I’ll be fine.”  He shoos you toward the dancefloor, giving Eddie’s shoulder a rough push.

Eddie resembles a deer in headlights, ginormous eyes glued to you.  His feet were stuck to the ground and as you tugged on his arm, he didn’t budge.  

“C’mon!”  You encourage him with a smile.

His mouth opens but words don’t form, a protest on the very tip of his tongue unwilling to make its way into your ears.  He couldn’t say no to you but he also couldn’t dance.

“I don’t know how.”  He manages to rush out.

Gently, you take his hand in yours, his calloused skin cold against your warmth.  You haven’t had a sip of alcohol and yet your confidence was through the roof, only for him.  You intertwine your fingers with his, his chunky rings giving you a challenge but you succeed.  

“I don’t either.”  You assure him with a squeeze to his hand, tugging him even further onto the crowded dance floor, much to his dismay.

The song continues, people bouncing around and getting bubblier by the minute which only seemed to overwhelm Eddie as his hand began to sweat.  As a means to distract him, you pull his hat off of his head, his frizzy curls now exposed while you boldly fit the hat onto your head instead.  His eyes shine but he remains stiff, not entirely convinced that he could freely move about the crowd.

“Let's learn together.”  You speak softly, a stark contrast to the screeching fiddle being played loudly.

Without a second thought, your arms wrap around his shoulders, his whiskey coated breath fanning over your face.  It’s evident that he’s unsure what to do with his hands, his arms limply hanging at his sides.  Despite his anxious body language, his eyes give him away.  He’s nervous but he’s giddy.  Stars gleam and glimmer within his sweet and syrupy eyes, no longer sad pools of pity.

“Right here.”  You guide him, using one hand to bring his touch to your waist.  “Like that.”  You whisper, unsure if even he heard you.  “And like this.”  You guide his other hand before resting yours around his neck once again.

“Like this?”  He takes a shaky breath, a thumb swiping over your hip.

Humming in approval, you take the initiative to start swaying to the song, a temporary fear flashing in his eyes until he feels your fingers toying with the curls at the back of his head.  He cutely stumbles every other step, suddenly becoming the equivalent of a baby deer though you don’t mind and actually prefer it, the image forever being burned into your brain, another moment for the wall you’d created in the depths of your mind.  

You don’t know how, you don’t know when, but your hand lands on his chest-his bare chest where the buttons have been purposely undone as a small act of rebellion.  His skin is warm and soft there, your fingertips gracefully tracing over a tattoo, skimming over the guitar pick necklace he always wore.  As the chorus kicks back in, you peek up at him, finding heavy eyes staring right back at you in awe.  

You start shouting along: country roads, take me home, to the place I belong.  He remains silent, watching you like you hung the moon.  You’re smiling, you’re happy, and god dammit he never knew he could be perfectly happy just watching someone else be happy but here he was.  If he could personally give you the moon he would, he’s sure of it.  He’d find a way.

An old memory resurfaces, one that usually only made him tear up out of sorrow but now, the perspective was shifting.  In a simpler time, he is six years old, dancing on his mom’s feet to old Chicago Blues.  He is young and innocent, full of life.  He is naive and blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world.  And then in harder times…in current times, he is a Munson, a vessel for satan.  A nearly bankrupt idiot who can’t keep up.  A fuck up.  But now…in this moment, he rekindles the same feeling he once felt with Momma, a sense of innocence that he hadn’t felt in years, innocence that had been snatched from him over and over.  A warmth spreads throughout him, one that he thought was laid to rest when Momma passed.  He was certain he had bid it goodbye forever. 

Until now.

You make him lovesick.  Utterly and purely lovesick.  No doctor could ever cure him.  Not that he’d even seek a cure.  It scares him but he’d willingly die of a fever if it meant you’d keep looking up at him like he was someone.  Like he was a man and not a menace.  His legacy could end there with you, the girl that intruded on his life and made his stubborn ass soft.  The shy girl who cries when she gets yelled at broke through Eddie Munson’s titanium walls and stole his heart.

You can feel him start to melt into you, his hands sliding around to the small of your back, his chest pressed into yours as he begins singing along, finally letting loose.  Glancing over his shoulder at the feeling of a pair of eyes on you, you smile when Steve stares fondly, offering you a thumbs up.  

The song ends though you yearn to continue holding onto him, afraid that letting go would mean losing the moment forever, your memory serving as the only souvenir.  Before painfully parting, you glance up at him again, your nose accidentally brushing against his.  The contact sends electricity racing through your body.  It doesn’t help that he’s smiling so softly, so endearingly, his eyelids heavy and lazy.  Even if it was a side effect of the whiskey, you still reveled in it.

“Sorry.”  He whispers though you almost miss it as you study the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.”  You mumble, your voice now small.

The next song picks up, something slow and steady that had you both swaying without a second thought.  You wanted to burrow into his chest, press your cheek into the skin and listen to his heartbeat.  If only it were that simple.

“Thank you.”  He speaks up again.  “Y’know for…all this.”  

A puzzled expression takes over your features, pulling back slightly to ponder his words.  

“I-I just helped, Eddie.  You should be thanking everyone else.  They really pulled through for this place.”  You remind him.

“I know, I know.”  He suddenly seems insecure, his fingers grabbing at the material of your shirt ever so slightly.  “I just mean–you didn’t have to get involved in any of this bullshit, my bullshit.” 

“I mean…I kinda forced myself in didn’t I?”  

He recalls the first evening you came into The Bourbon, the night you bargained with him, practically forcing him to hire you.

“I’m turning you away because you don’t belong in a place like this.  Things can get rough and you’re…too dainty.”

God was he wrong.  You were resilient.  Tough.  A badass.

“I’m glad you did.”  His honesty surprises even him.  He wasn’t big on getting mushy, never being offered the space to do so since his mom had passed.  But he doesn’t regret speaking his truth.

“Yeah?”  

Your lips are so perfectly pouty it devastates him, eyes so full of adoration that he wants to fall to his knees and officially devote himself to you even if you wouldn’t have him.  

“Yeah–”

“Eddie!”  Dustin screeches, hurling toward Eddie and eventually crashing into his side, eliciting a grunt from the two of you.  “Sorry, sorry!”  He breathes heavily.  “Eddie, you’ve gotta see this.”  

For a split second your heart drops, afraid that maybe something bad happened but you quickly backtrack those thoughts when you analyze Dustin’s grin.  It was good news.  It was definitely good news.  

–

“Holy shit.”  Eddie mumbles in disbelief.

“Holy shit indeed.”  Dustin agrees.

You stare in awe at the piles of cash Dustin had counted in the back office, opting to act as The Bourbon’s temporary treasurer in the mission to save the place.  According to the boy, there was enough to cover costs for the next three months if Eddie played his cards right.  After that they hadn’t yet come up with a solution but it was something at the very least.  It was hope.

“You keep hosting events like this every month and you should be able to keep things going.”  Dustin advises, his mind quietly working out the logistics.

“Not only that.”  Steve chimes in, leaning against the doorway to the office, the three of you glancing back at him.  “What if I told you…that I know someone interested in investing?”

Your eyes catch Dustin’s then Eddie’s, an anxious fog overtaking the room.

“Who?”  Eddie gulps, clearly nervous.

Steve only smirks, the anticipation building with every passing second.  A flash of realization falls over Dustin’s face, his head shaking with a huge grin.  

“No.”  Dustin whispers.

“Yes.”  Steve nods.

“Holy shit.”  

“Do you mind letting me, the owner of said establishment that is being invested in, in on this big secret?”  Eddie grumbles, his eyes narrowed at Steve.

“What do you think about being business partners?”  Steve proposes, his eyes shining.

“W-what?”  Eddie asks, almost choking on air.

“You know I’ve been working under my old man for however long now.  Well I finally have my own startup and I didn’t wanna tell you, didn’t wanna say anything until I actually had the money.”  Steve rambles.  “And y’know, I always thought about investing.  ‘S a great place.  Would be a shame to let it fall apart.”

“What–what the fuck.”  Is all Eddie can muster up in the moment.

“Also, I vote that we make Miss Bambi here the manager.”  Steve snaps his fingers before pointing your direction.  “Gotta trust the business in good hands and she’s definitely got a knack for running things efficiently.  And putting you in your place.”  He presses a finger into Eddie’s shoulder.

“I-I…”  You were speechless.

“If you’ll have us, of course.  Take some time to think about it.”  

Glancing at Eddie, you can see the information still being processed, the gears turning in his brain.  The state of shock leaves him blinking rapidly, unable to catch up to this moment in time.  One second he was fighting for this business, expecting the worst case scenario and the next he was being offered an investment by his best friend.

“I knew there was a reason we kept you around.”  Dustin makes his way toward the door, patting Steve on the back.

Steve playfully puts Dustin in a headlock, continuing on as if it were business as usual as the boy protests.

“So, how about it Munson?”  

“Steve, I swear to god!”  Dustin complains, making no progress in escaping the man’s hold.

“I dunno, depends.”  Eddie clicks his tongue, seeming to finally fall back into his body as he stands.  “I don’t like being told what to do.”  Eddie begins.  “And y’know I can’t have King Steve bossing me around, that won’t do…”  

“C’mon man, you know I know nothing about running a bar.”  Steve scoffs.  “I’m just the sugar daddy here.”  

“Steve!”  Dustin gags.

You can’t help but giggle, beaming at Eddie as he grins.  

“Alright then, we have a deal.”  Eddie extends his hand toward Steve, making it official with a handshake before hugging him, a brotherly exchange that warmed your heart.  In the midst of the hug, Dustin was released from Steve’s hold but somehow had gotten stuck in the middle of the embrace.

“I’m feeling the love and all but my neck is cramping.”  The boy whines.

–

“To The Bourbon!”  Eddie announces, standing proudly on top of the bar, tequila shot in hand as his closest friends raise their own shots in the air.  “Grandpa Roy, may he rest in peace, would fuckin’ hate this whole Hoedown but in his defense he was a better business man than me and I’m the one who ran it into the ground.”  Everyone laughs, smiling fondly.  “I also wanted to thank all of you.  If none of you cared this much we’d be fucked.”  He grins.  “In conclusion, you’re all stuck with Roy’s dickhead grandson for a long time to come, sorry.”  Eddie shrugs, throwing his shot back.

The night had been more than a success.  Customers had long gone home and there was still much to do in regards to cleanup but Eddie insisted that everyone call it a night, not without a celebratory shot though.  Cheers and whistles fill the room as everyone takes their mandatory shot.  Eddie hops off of the bar, earning himself several pats on the back as he insisted they give Steve the same praise.  He was glowing.

Nancy and Robin rushed over, each of them linking an arm with him as they congratulated him.  You’d never seen him so openly happy, so ecstatic.  His grin was permanent for the remainder of the night, his cheeks must have burned from never relaxing his face.

And when all was said and done, when it was time to go home, it was your turn to congratulate him.  You didn’t get much of a chance when the news first broke and now he was locking up the front as you waited patiently next to the bar.  Steve insisted on taking Robin and Nancy home in Eddie’s truck since they had a few too many drinks.  Dustin offered his assistance reluctantly after Steve sent him several expectant looks.  

The bar was empty, completely trashed from the night’s activities though Eddie told you not to touch a thing, it was already nearing 3:00 AM.  You just couldn’t help yourself, gathering glasses onto a tray and delivering them to the sink.  A round of dishes wouldn’t kill you while you waited.  At least this way you were occupied rather than just sitting around, waiting for him to lock up.

“What are you up to, trouble?”  Eddie makes his way behind the bar to replace the cap on a bottle before returning it to its shelf.  

“Trouble?”  You smile, suds building up along your arms.  Too much soap.  “If you deem washing glasses as troublesome you’re really gonna hate that I take an extra minute on my breaks.”

You can hear him scoff from behind you, glass clinking as he tidies up, going against his own wishes.

“You think I don’t know that?”  

“Thought you said no cleaning.”  You utter under your breath.

His presence sneaks up on you, his quick hand suddenly snatching up a wet glass, drying it with a fresh rag, repeating the process with each one you’d just cleaned.  Your nerves are on edge in the best way possible.  The big lights had been shut off, only dim lighting encompassing you, creating a mellow atmosphere.  

“Well some of us…”  Eddie pinches the back of your arm.  “...don’t listen, now do we?”

Something about the condescending nature of his words ignited a fire in between your legs.  You knew very well that it wasn’t his intention although it didn’t stop you from releasing a shaky exhale.  Goosebumps traveled up your spine, you were pathetic.

You hum in response, unable to trust your voice, the room becoming hot all too quickly.  His gaze was trained on you, a hint of concern creasing his forehead.  He was too handsome, his button down doing way too many favors for him.

“You okay?”  He asks, his voice smaller than before.

“Yeah, yeah.”  You manage to squeak out.  “Just tired.”  

Reaching over you, he shuts off the steaming water, tossing his rag onto the counter as he pulls you away by your arm.  You want to whimper at the simple touch, every ounce of your body on fire, embarrassingly so.

“Let’s get out of here.”  He sighs, clearly just as tired.  

Guiding you out the back, he makes it a point to grab his hat that you had put so much thought into.  Stepping outside, he locks the door while you admire the moonlight glazing over the parking lot.  Everything is so…quiet.  Snow flurries fall delicately from the sky, gracing your skin with tiny little ice crystals, intricate designs compacted into a singular art form now just melting with your body heat.  It’s cold but you won’t complain.  Not when Eddie is automatically draping his jacket over your shivering frame.

“Doors are locked, cash is locked up–”

“Eddie?”  You call for his attention, big brown eyes immediately seeking yours like you’d just sent out a smoke signal.

When you don’t say anything, worry begins to settle into his features, the opposite of what you had intended.  

“Yeah?”  He asks hesitantly.  “Did I forget to–”

The second your lips hover over his stubbly cheek he’s lost any and all thoughts.  It happens in slow motion yet it’s over before he knows it.  Your lips are so soft and delicate against his skin and he was finding himself wanting more, his selfish needs yearning to claw their way out of him.

“Congratulations.”  You whisper, your breath tickling him before disappearing all too soon.  

It lingers like a ghost, haunting him in the most breathtaking sense.  You make your way to your car and he feels it, the apparition of your lips against his cold cheek.  And he just knows.  You hold the power to screw him up forever.  You have his heart in your hands and god, he hopes you’re gentle with it.

~end~

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[ambrossart]

If Bowers gang had no trauma and are well and healthy functioning beings (yes I’m talking to you Henry and Patrick), how would their relationship Evelyn go?

Ohhhhhhh! Oh, I love this one!

(But it also makes me kinda sad. You’ll see why.)

I’m sorry, I went a little overboard with this. If you don’t read it all, I honestly won’t blame you. 😅

Henry

First of all, can I just say how much I love the idea of an emotionally healthy and trauma-free Henry Bowers? It’s such a nice thing to think about, especially when he’s being extra horrible (which is, basically, all the time)

His mom never left. His dead isn’t an abusive piece of shit.

Butch is still a hard-ass, of course, but at least now it’s to a more reasonable level. Like, he would never raise a hand to his wife or son… or at least not very often. (We can’t expect perfection here, people. Butch Bowers is never gonna be winning any Father of the Year awards)

Anyway, despite all that, I do think Henry would still prefer to keep to himself or to a very small group of like-minded friends.

Are they outcasts? Definitely. Rebels? Absolutely. But are they troublemakers? Maybe, but they’re mostly harmless as long as you don’t try to pick a fight with them.

Henry’s not a bully by any means, and he’s rarely violent, but he’s still not the friendliest guy in the world, and he’s really not a morning person (seriously, don’t even try to talk to Henry before lunch; he’ll bite your head off).

But beneath that rough exterior, he’s actually a pretty nice guy. Not very talkative, a little grumpy, but he’s got a good heart buried deep in there. Most people just rarely get a chance to see it.

Hmmm, what else…? 🤔

He smokes. He drinks. He falls asleep during class.

He drives an old pickup to school and, yep, often sleeps in there too, especially before school and occasionally during lunch.

(The boy’s exhausted, okay? He needs to catch up on sleep whenever he can.)

Maybe he gets detention from time to time, but it’s mostly for skipping class or mouthing off to his teachers (once again, Henry is not a morning person).

Academically speaking, he’s not a fantastic student, but at least he’s not flunking every class.

To Henry, school is just another obstacle he has to overcome. He’ll graduate… but barely, and he relies heavily on shop classes to boost his GPA.

Does he date? Not really, but he’s probably had a few drunken hookups with girls from neighboring towns.

None of the girls in Derry are of any interest to him.

Except maybe Evelyn Tozier 🧐

Actually, no… no, not even her.

As much as I would love to think a well-functioning Henry Bowers would still be harboring a secret crush on Evelyn Tozier, that’s just highly unlikely.

Their relationship evolved from Henry’s trauma, after all. Without it, they don’t have a relationship.

Henry would be a junior, most likely, and Evelyn would be a sophomore. Unless they took the same classes (doubtful) they would probably only see each other in the hallway between classes.

To Henry, Evelyn would simply be that annoying student council chick who, for no apparent reason, goes out of her way to greet him every morning (kind of like she does with Kriss Andrews) and keeps ratting him out for smoking on school property.

Seriously, that girl needs to get a hobby.

Then Henry would probably act like a dick to get back at her. Go out of his way to tear down her anti-bullying posters. Maybe even rip one up and throw it away while she’s watching.

Okay, maybe he would still develop a crush on her. Maybe.

And maybe, someday, he might see her coming out of school with a lot of books and feel compelled to offer her a ride home.

Maybe? 🥺

Okay, fine, that probably won’t happen, but I can dream, can’t I? These two deserve a happy ending in at least one universe.

Realistically, though, these two probably won’t interact much… or at all.

But at least they’re both happy, right?

Sorry, Evelyn, it’s damaged Henry or no Henry at all.

Patrick

Okay, let’s be real, a healthy, well-adjusted Patrick Hockstetter would still be an obnoxious, self-absorbed, manipulative asshole.

Did you really expect him to be an angel?

This guy truly thinks he’s the smartest, most interesting person in Derry. Nobody else is on his level. It’s not even close.

But hey, he’s hot, so it’s okay.

Just kidding! Just kidding!

Believe it or not, Patrick does have his redeeming qualities. For example, he’s incredibly clever and creative, and he has a fascinatingly unique perspective on life.

The guy’s eccentric for sure, but now his behavior no longer carries that undeniably creepy undertone. Now he’s weird in a really fun and attractive way, and he’s exceptionally charming, too.

Because of this, people–men, women, everybody–naturally gravitate toward him, which Patrick gleefully uses to his advantage.

Yeah, sadly that part hasn’t changed very much. Patrick’s still a bit of a playboy. The only difference is that now it’s all 100% consensual, so at least he’s not committing random acts of sexual assault anymore. 🤷‍♀️

He still breaks a lot of hearts, though. A lot of them.

However, I don’t think this Patrick is intentionally trying to hurt people with his behavior. He’s just searching–no, hunting–for someone who sets off that special spark inside him. As soon as that flame goes out, he’ll cut the person off completely and go back on the hunt again. Patrick’s just restless like that, and he doesn’t like to waste his time on people who don’t interest him.

(Now if Patrick ever finds that special person, he’ll be a suprisngly devoted boyfriend. A little intense and controlling at times, sure, but hey some people are into that)

Anyway, like I said before, Patrick’s still a little cold and manipulative, but it’s more out of boredom than anything. It’s rarely personal and it’s not malicious. He just craves stimulation (mental, physical, emotional) and right now Derry’s not providing enough of it.

Guy’s gotta entertain himself somehow, right?

(This may or may not include heavy use of psychedelic drugs)

(It definitely does)

So maybe Patrick likes toying with people’s emotions a little bit, getting them all riled up just for the hell of it (Henry Bowers is a favorite target of his. That guy’s hilarious when he angry). Maybe he likes finding people’s weaknesses and subtly exploiting them. Maybe he likes building people up and then crushing them back down.

Does he feel guilty? Sometimes. Absolutely.

But he usually waves it off, thinking, “Who the fuck cares? In a couple months, I’m never gonna see any of these people again.”

At his core, Patrick’s dying to get out of Derry. He’s convinced that anywhere in the world is better than this boring-ass town.

If his parents weren’t so insistent on him graduating, he would have dropped out of school and left town a long time ago.

Besides, someone has to make sure his little brother gets to school in the morning…

Oh yeah, Avery? He’s alive, is the exact opposite of Patrick, and is the frequent target of bullying at school. Poor kid.

(I believe in Paper Men there’s about a seven-year difference between Patrick and Avery, so Avery would be in the fifth grade most likely, and Patrick would be a senior. They’re not super close.)

Now, does Patrick care that his brother gets picked on? Not in the slightest. The kid needs to toughen up and learn how to handle his own problems. He can’t count on his big brother to bail him out every time (or anytime, apparently)

That is, however, how he’s most likely to encounter Evelyn Tozier. Yeah, it’s definitely gonna involve bullying somehow.

Maybe he’ll see her standing up for his little brother.

(Or maybe she’ll be Avery’s tutor or something. I could see that happening, too)

Maybe he’ll see one of her posters around school, think of his brother, and feel motivated to seek her out.

Or maybe it’ll be that cringe-worthy anti-bullying video. Who knows?

Regardless, something Evelyn does will catch Patrick’s attention, and for a day, just one day, Evelyn Tozier will have his undivided attention.

He’ll flirt with her shamelessly, get rejected immediately, realize she’s boring as hell, and then never look at her again. 😂

Sorry to disappoint anyone, but I just don’t see these two connecting on a deep emotional level. At all.

If Patrick isn’t “Patrick,” he’s not gonna have any interest in Evelyn, and vice versa.

Besides, Evelyn’s heart already belongs to someone else.

⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️

Victor

Without a doubt, Victor Criss (along with Belch Huggins) comes out as the big winner in this scenario.

Victor’s trauma is all wrapped up in his best friend, Jimmy Duncan. If Jimmy was still in Derry, happy and healthy as ever, Victor would be living a much better life than he is currently.

Would his personality be any different? Not really because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Victor’s personality. He’s neurodivergent (and I know some people even headcanon him as being on the spectrum, which I have no issue with) and that’s not something that needs to be changed or fixed. He’s perfect the way he is.

I do, however, think Vic’s gonna be a lot better at managing his symptoms. For his sake, I sure hope he is.

He's probably still a stoner, too.

He’s good friends with Scott Kellerman and Christie Gibson because all three of them love vibing and listening to music together.

I could see him still having a distant but friendly relationship with Belch, but they don’t hang out outside of school or anything (unless Belch is still dating Christie in this scenario, which is possible)

When he’s not with them, he’s usually doing his own thing because Victor loves being by himself. He needs to give his batteries a chance to recharge.

But at the end of the day, he always finds his way back to his oldest and closest friends, Evelyn and Jimmy, who are both very passionate about and busy with student council.

If Jimmy was still in Derry, he would be the sophomore student council president, and Evelyn would be his vice.

Victor, who doesn’t give a shit about student council, would give them their space to focus on that, but they would still eat lunch together and go home together every day. They’re those kinds of friends. They don’t need to be together 24/7.

Oh, and Evelyn and Victor are definitely dating by now, which should surprise no one.

Unlike with Henry, Evelyn and Victor’s relationship didn’t begin with trauma. It began with proximity. Victor moved in down the street; Evelyn met him, was instantly smitten, and that’s it. As long as Victor stays in her life, she’s never gonna look at anyone else, which is why I can’t imagine her even entertaining the thought of Henry or Patrick. Sorry, not happening. She only has eyes for one person.

Interestingly enough, though, most people don’t even know they’re dating. If you saw the two of them in the hallway, you would never think they’re together.

(In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Victor was standing next to Evelyn while Patrick was flirting with her. He was probably standing there with the most hilarious expression of annoyance and confusion. And Patrick, of course, never even acknowledged his existence.)

Vic’s not into public displays of affection (or hell, even private displays of affection because too much skin-to-skin contact tends to make him uncomfortable), so they’re very low-key as a couple.

They’re still cute as hell, though.

Outside of school, they spend a lot of time at each other’s houses, doing homework, studying, listening to music, etc.

They also spend a lot of time sleeping, just sleeping. Vic’s the king of naps and Evelyn desperately needs one. That girl works herself way too hard.

As we already know, Victor’s mother adores Evelyn.

His father tolerates her.

And Victor suffers through those boisterous Tozier family dinners. He has to step away frequently, though; otherwise, he gets a massive headache.

Maggie loves Victor (I mean, even in PM it’s clear that she prefers him out of any of her daughter’s other love interests *cough*Henry*cough*).

Went thinks Vic’s an oddball who dresses weird, but at least he treats his daughter well.

And Richie, well… I guess Richie thinks Vic’s okay, but he makes a lot of inappropriate jokes about their relationship. A lot. Usually at dinnertime. He thinks it’s hilarious when everyone at the table gets uncomfortable, especially his dad.

I could go on and on about Victor and Evelyn’s adorable love life, about how Victor constantly forces himself out of his comfort zone just to make her happy, but I don’t want to make my bias even more obvious than it already is.

To put it simply, Victor Criss is perfect and he and Evelyn are going to stay together forever. No rebuttals needed or accepted.

Thank you, now move along.

Belch Reggie

As I said already, Belch, who now strictly goes by Reggie, is another one who greatly benefits from this scenario.

If his dad never got sick, his family would have two breadwinners, which means Reggie would feel a lot less pressure to be the man of the house and financially support his mother. He would get to pursue his own interests a lot more freely.

And, if you’ve read the novel, you know that means he’s playing baseball.

This is a passion he shares with his dad, so you better believe Mr. Huggins is Reggie’s private coach and number one fan. If they’re not in the batting cage or tossing a ball around in the front yard, they’re watching baseball on TV and in the stands.

And Reggie’s really good! Maybe not good enough to play for the Yankees or anything, but certainly good enough to earn himself a nice little scholarship and play in the minor leagues, at the very least.

Position-wise, I see him being an outfielder rather than an infielder. I don’t know if he’s athletic enough to handle CF, but if he puts in the work, maybe.

Batting is definitely his strength. He currently holds six school records and two state records, including most homeruns in a single season.

His parents go to all his games, no matter how far they are. They would pack up the car and follow him around the country if they had to.

And they’re kinda obnoxious, his parents, to the point where they often have to be removed from the stands. They’re really good people, but yeah, they’re ‘those’ kinda baseball parents.

It’s very embarrassing for Reggie.

Baseball aside, he’s still a metalhead at heart, and he still has his precious Trans Am. That hasn’t changed.

Reggie’s not your typical high school jock. He’s got a really cool edge to him.

At school, he gets along with pretty much everyone, regardless of whatever clique they belong to, but he prefers the company of his teammates and those within his regular social circle.

He’s an average student and is well-liked by most of the staff.

He has a good relationship with Evelyn Tozier and the rest of the student council. She attends a lot of his games and, if she ever needs help from the baseball team, Reggie’s usually her main point of contact. All she has to do is smile and Reggie gives in to whatever she needs.

This usually involves a lot of grueling manual labor.

Yeah, Reggie’s a bit of a sucker. He’ll do anything if you ask him nicely. This applies double if you’re a cute girl.

(Does that mean Reggie thinks Evelyn’s cute? Yeah, but don’t read too much into it. She’s still not his type.)

Are he and Henry still friends? Possibly, but similar to him and Vic, it’s probably more of a casual friendship. They don’t hang out frequently, but if they see each other at school or at parties, they get along perfectly fine.

Like I mentioned before, he could still be dating Christie.

But honestly, I think Reggie is the kind of person who puts more energy into his friendships, into his team, and into his family. If he meets someone he clicks with, cool. If not, he’s happy staying single until the right girl comes along.

(You know, I was worried I wasn’t gonna have enough material for Reggie, but I think I actually did pretty well!)

In summary, this boy is THRIVING.

Congrats for making it to the end of my nonsensical rant. 🏅

[dearmailman]

hii i love you blog and i was wondering if could you do some headcanons or a fic about julie and frank taking care of a little reader who gets easily overstimulated together? TYYYYY

Hello neighbor! I hope you enjoy this short fic, your neighbors are always there to comfort you.

It’s your birthday, and you should be having fun. The entire neighborhood is over, and there’s been nonstop music and fun for hours! For better or worse, considering where you are now.

You’ve hidden under a table in the hallway, all the way across the home from the living room where everyone is wafting sounds of happiness your way. You wipe your face and try not to cry. It’s your birthday! You should be in there too! But as much as you love your neighbors, they can get very noisy and rambunctious. You can feel yourself regressing slightly already because of how overstimulating the party is. You’re overwhelmed, to be frank.

Speaking of being frank, you hear the distinct sounds of dress shoes on the wood floor and quite a bit of grumpy grumbling moving towards you.

“I’ve told them to quiet down four times, Julie! Four!”

“Aw, Frank come on, it’s a party! They can have a good time!”

“Julie, if I’m overwhelmed, then I just know Reader is too. I can’t- can’t find them though! Ah, I’m such a putz.”

You scoot toward the table cloth hiding you as you hear Frank’s overstimulation also boil over - his arm waving is practically audible. You reach for the cloth, only to flinch back as a loud thud sounds, and Barnaby and Howdy both begin laughing heartily in the distance.

“Frank, it’ll be alright, I’m sure they’re not in any trouble,” Julie soothes, joyful voice calm and even for Frank’s sake. “Would they have gone to their bedroom, maybe?”

“No, no they usually go somewhere small and close quarters when they get overwhelmed.”

You peek just an eye out from under the tablecloth, staring at them. Frank looks very miffed, tapping his shoe and staring at the ground very hard, like it will tell him where you are if he’s intimidating enough. You only think on it for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat and calling out to them.

“Frank, Julie,” it comes out a stage whisper, but they both whip around, moving in unison like only twins or best friends can do. They spot you though, and come rushing over, crouching down to look at you.

“Reader, I have your earplugs if you need them, and your… you know,” he seems slightly embarrassed, but he hands you your ear plugs and your pacifier, even with Julie watching. He sits and scoots towards you, face worried. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” You start what would have been a great lie, probably, but instead your voice breaks and you feel yourself tear up slightly. Frank pulls you out from under the table and into a hug almost instantly. Julie joins in, of course, petting at your hair softly.

“There, there - poor Reader. Snap, I’m sorry everything got so crazy, you know everybody gets so loud when we have fun.” Julie frowns sympathetically. “Do I need to kick them out of your pad?”

You shake your head, hidden against Frank’s sweater.

“Do me a solid and go tell them to quiet down at least,” Franks sighs exasperatedly.

“‘Kay!” Julie skips off to the living room and Frank turns back to you.

“You can use your binkie if you need it, friend. You know I’m always okay taking care of you.”

Frank - and sometimes Eddie too - have been your caretakers for a few months now, and they know you tend to go small when stress arises. Your posture slumps slightly, letting some of the weight go as the other room quiets to normal chatting. Frank helps you put your pacifier in and rubs a friendly hand on your back to comfort you.

“They really were wigging out!” Julie calls as she meets you two back in the hall. “Barnaby says ‘sorry about your flower vase.’” Julie glances curiously at your pacifier, humming. “What are you up to, neighbors?”

“Ah, it’s a comfort thing I’ve been helping them with. I do hope you don’t find it… weird.”

Julie laughs. “Weird? Well if anything I’m jealous! When do I get to cuddle up to my best friend and play baby,” she teases. Frank rolls his eyes at her, but you can see his smile. You giggle quietly and set your hand on Julie’s shoulder.

Julie smiles brightly, and plops herself into the cuddle pile, wrapping her arms around both you and Frank. “Big or baby, we’re all always here to comfort you Reader.”

“Even when it gets overwhelming, you know I always carry ear plugs and toys for you, so never be afraid to ask to be small.”

“Hey, sunshine, don’t you have a TV in your bedroom?” Julie smiles.

You nod to her, expression lightening by the second.

“Good idea, Julie. Let’s go watch cartoons. In the quiet. I’m sure those goofs will realize the party’s over eventually.”

“Far out,” Julie laughs, and the two help you upstairs for a cuddle session.

You get so lost in cartoons and comfort that you hardly notice the quieting of everyone heading home for the night. Julie decides, without prompt, that you three are officially having a sleep over, and you can’t help but giggle and go along.

sfw interaction only

[scotianostra]

Happy 76th Birthday the excellent Scottish actor David Hayman.

Hayman, one of Scotland’s most acclaimed actors of stage and screen was born in Bridgeton, Glasgow on February 9th 1948.

David Hayman grew up as one of three children in a working class family in Drumchapel, Glasgow. Leaving school without any academic qualifications he started work as a would-be engineer at 16. One day, wearing his grease stained boiler suit, he marched into the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and announced his intention to become an actor. He still has no idea where this came from, he is basically a shy person and there was no family history of acting. He took advice and joined an amateur dramatics group and a year later was accepted to study drama and has never been out of work since.

His film and television credits are, frankly, much too numerous to list but include his superb portrayal of hard man Jimmy Boyle in “Sense of Freedom” and, of course, he is recognisable everywhere as Detective Chief Superintendent Michael Walker in Linda La Plante’s long running Trial and Retribution series.He has also starred in the hit Scottish cop drama Shetland as well as Scottish comedy shows Scotch & Wry, Rab C Nesbitt and Still Game.

Hayman has also directed numerous films and TV shows as well as regularly treading the boards in the Theatres.

Away from acting, David established his Glasgow-based charity Spirit Aid in 2001. It has gone on to become one of Scotland’s most successful small scale humanitarian organisations. He started Spirit Aid because he wanted to do a Scottish Live Aid at Hampden, but his rock stars let him down. “They were all, ‘Oh, man, I’m burned out,’ and I was thinking, ‘You’re sitting on your fat arse on your sofa with £40 million in the bank. Go and sit in a refugee camp in Afghanistan and tell me you’re burned out’. But I thought, I believe in this, I’ve got to keep going.”

He spends several months every year visiting his charity’s relief projects where he employs indigenous workers wherever possible. His fundraising operations include Operation Loo Roll, a project selling toilet paper that raised £100,000 in 2007. The charity undertakes humanitarian relief projects from Kosovo to Guinea-Bissau, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Malawi and South Africa.

Hayman is a big campaigner for a Scottish film studio, which is looking like happening soon, he says “It takes the Americans to come in and build a shed where they shoot Outlander and that’s the nearest thing we have to a film studio, think of all the movies that we’ve lost, all the money that we’ve lost all the way back to Braveheart.”

David was recently in the fab comedy from Scottish director Michael Caton-Jones, Our Ladies, “set mainly in Edinburgh a group of Catholic school girls get an opportunity to go to the capital for a choir competition, but they’re more interested in drinking, partying and hooking up than winning the competition” it is an adaptation of Scottish author, Alan Warner, of Morvern Callar fame’s third novel Sopranos, I read the book in the late 90’s it is a laugh out loud book, and the film is also very good.

Hayman was in an interesting film, My Neighbor Adolf, last year, which I haven’t got round to watching yet, set in 1960;s Brazil he plays a “lonely and grumpy” Holocaust survivor convinces himself that his new neighbour is none other than Adolf Hitler. We also saw him in the sequel Fisherman's Friends: One and All, both films get ratings of 6.2, and 6.4 on IMDB . I have just started a binge watch of Chemistry of Death, a Brit crime thriller series which is on Paramount plus. Last year David played a Chieftain in the Disney Star Wars prequal series Andor.

David won a top theatre award for his portrayal of northern Irishman, Eric, in the acclaimed play Cyprus Avenue last year, he has a couple of projects lined up, Jailbroken, an action crime thriller described as "the day before a violent criminal is due to be released from prison he receives a threatening call. Armed only with a mobile phone he must somehow save his family - and himself."And at the other end of the spectrumis a fantasy called Assassins Guild, "After the Mermaid Wars, Iliad's city is attacked by dark forces. With the city full of rancor and corruption, Death herself forms an alliance and offers Atticus, an elite fighter, the chance to return to life. This gift comes at a price."

[babygirlbdubs]

oh no. you're making me ship rentho

O-O cora. cora. i am gripping you so tightly.

here are some more of my favorite rentho bits just from last life. just for you. (please ship them im insane ren loves him so much and etho trusts him so much and none of this is to mention the way they inherently rely on and trust each other)

1) etho comes over to ren’s “grumpy tower” just to let ren know they’re neighbors. during this, ren talks about the tower, and etho looks up at it and goes. “be careful, don’t fall.” for no reason than just wanting to make sure ren stays safe.

2) after bdubs turns red the final time, ren and etho are behind the other non-reds and ren very gently asks him how he’s doing on food. etho, still clearly a bit shaken, says he’s got 3 bits of food left. ren stops and gives him half of his own food. it’s a very gentle interaction and i do not have the words to properly express exactly how it makes me feel.

3) “If we have to pick leaders, you’re it for me, Ren.”

4) “Lead the way, Ren. I’ll follow.”

5) after being teased relentlessly about his bubblevator idea, ren affirms that it’s going to work (whispering, because they’re lying in wait), and etho whispers back, “It’s a good idea, Ren!”

6) Martyn places an end crystal where Ren logs off for a second, with the intention of spooking him when he logs back on. Ren logs on and is spooked by it, and Etho starts chewing Martyn out for it.

7) Ren, Pearl, and Scott are on red. Etho and Cleo are on yellow. Pearl and Scott talk about putting Cleo on red to reunite the 3Gs. They mention that Joel and Grian are planning on killing Etho. Ren immediately tells them that he wants to go protect Etho from Joel and Grian. “I’ve had enough of it. I’m gonna go defend my friend Etho. If you guys wanna come with, you can come with.”

8) In the subsequent fight where they run into Cleo and Etho in the woods, the other two are pinging both Etho and Cleo. Ren has multiple times where he has a clear shot on Etho, even draws back his bow to instinctually fire before he realizes who it is, and fires on Cleo instead.

9) After Etho has gone red, Ren and Cleo calming him down on the tower. Ren’s voice is. so gentle. Keep in mind he has never once even attempted to do damage to Etho. Etho allows him up, but refuses to let Scott or Pearl up. Ren tells Etho he got him something and hands over a pair of diamond boots. “… Okay, I like you, Ren. I like you a lot.”

10) Scott and Pearl go to Scar’s base to ransack, loot, and also kill Martyn. Ren and Etho hang back in the woods for a moment, and Ren tells Etho he wants to have a secret alliance just the two of them. No killing each other. “You and me to the end.” “I like that.”

[strang3lov3]

Click Here

You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.

Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)

Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described Fic Help - @joeloverture @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect. A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷

masterlist

You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆

It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage. 

Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right. 

He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself. 

He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.

 Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination. 

Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him. 

His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from tommyboy69er@aol.com interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup. 

here’s this for your spank bank pervert 

No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.

Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game. 

From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight,  and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.

The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video. 

CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–

Windows System Alert

Error Code: 0x80070070

Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.

Please take the following actions immediately:

Save all work in progress.

Disconnect from the internet.

Run a full system scan with your security software.

For further assistance, contact technical support.

“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.

Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house. 

-

You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad. 

You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people. 

You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”

“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe. 

“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”

It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”

Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?” 

“You already mow my lawn.” 

“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?” 

“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone. 

You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.

Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”

Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips. 

Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”

“I’m diagnosing.”

Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety. 

You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”

Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”

“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.

“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”

 Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.

 “When did you say this problem started again?”

“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”

“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”

Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.

“Anything else?”

Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.” 

You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?” 

“Yes.”

“Clicking on chainmail?” 

“I am not.”

“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?

-

Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from jmiller@aol.com, you decided to confront him. 

Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.

“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”

Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”

You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.

Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”

“Go right ahead, hon.”

You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him. 

Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”

“I have.”

The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”

It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”

 “Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”

“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”

“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”

You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.” 

Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”

You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone. 

“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…

 …Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.

 …Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”

From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, s’all good.”

Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”

“Figured. I need it.” 

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”

“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”

“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”

Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.  

“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password.  ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.” 

From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.

-

“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”

Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”

“What kind of links?”

“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists. 

“What’s on these websites?”

Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.

“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.” 

“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”

“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”

“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.

Which…tracks. 

Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003

5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie

4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style

4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs

4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs

4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home

His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so… 

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”

Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.

“Yeah, lady parts.”

Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”

Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.

“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part. 

You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.  

You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind. 

After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”

Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.

“Wipe it, then.”

And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone. 

“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now. 

The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.

Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”

“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”

“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect.  “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.

“What picture?” you ask innocently. 

“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?” 

You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”

“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is. 

“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate. 

But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”

“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”

“You’re–”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”

“Yeah, so you say, princess.”

You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be. 

“I am.”

“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.

You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so. 

Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,

“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block tommyboy69er@aol.com. 

“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer. 

“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”

Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”

You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.

Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”

  Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”

You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?” 

He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.

And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm. 

He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”

“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”

You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”

You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own. 

He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours. 

“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”

“Make me come, please.”

“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you. 

“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”

You nod, sniffling quietly. 

“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”

“How?”

“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”

“F-for teasing you and stuff.”

“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”

You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still. 

“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”

Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.

“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”

“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower. 

You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit. 

“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry. 

“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”

“Joel–” 

You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”

Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all. 

When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say. 

“Hm?”

“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”

Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.” 

“It’s no problem,” you reply. 

“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”

You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.

Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”

If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.

[americasass91]

Need You Now

Hello, my lovelies!

So listen….this is completely self indulgent and is all Mr Evan’s fault. He just had to go and win Sexiest Man Alive and have a sexy fucking photoshoot. And those pictures just had to make me feral.

This is definitely not the best thing I’ve ever written. Threw it together in about an hour. Again having nobody to blame but Christopher.

I mean how could I not after I saw the above picture? I couldn’t not write something.

Well anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

*DISCLAIMER, if you’re under 18, just go away. This isn’t for you! Kindly fuck off. Thanks!

Words: 2.4k

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Language, unprotected Smut, P in V sex, Breeding Kink, talks of trying to conceive, husband and wife kink if you squint, Chris in that picture, I think that’s it

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“Why did you agree to this again?”

You rolled your eyes at your husband as you continued doing your makeup in the mirror. “Because Andy, it’s the last good weekend before the colder weather sets in and because we were invited and I want to go.”

Your grumpy husband lets out a sigh. “I would’ve much rather done our own thing than go to this cookout.”

You put the finishing touches on your makeup and turn around to look at him. “Why? It’ll be fun! They’re our friends, Andrew. We don’t see them very much.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “But I don’t even like half of these people.”

“Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad. I promise. If we get there and you are bored to tears and hating life, then we’ll go. Scouts honor!”

He walks until he’s standing in front of you and puts his hands on your hips. “Okay, fine. I’ll go but only because you want to. But when we get back…” He starts trailing light, barely there kisses along the side of your neck until he reaches your ear..”You better plan to be up all night, filled with me.”

Before the shivers finish trailing up your spine, Andy steps away with a chuckle to go get dressed. Well shit. Now you aren’t sure you want to go yourself. You shake your head. No. You had promised your friends you’d show up. Plus you were already ready. And you thought you looked pretty cute in your yellow sundress.

You turn back around to face the mirror to double check your hair when your husband emerges from the closet. You do a double take as he sits on the bed to slip on his boots.

Jesus Christ you have forgotten how to breathe.

Your usually suited up, straight laced A.D.A., is sitting there looking like sex on legs.

He’s in a pair of black slacks and a dark green shirt. But that’s not what has you open-mouthed and drooling. It’s the way he only buttoned up the shirt about halfway and you have a clear view of the chain he always wears and the tattoos that litter his chest. Including your name he has tattooed over his left pec.

Christ on a cracker. You can already tell your panties have soaked through. This piece of shit is doing this on purpose. He knows the effect he has on you.

“Sweetheart?”

You shake your head as you close your mouth, stunned to see him standing in front of you. He reaches up and wipes some drool from the side of your mouth. “You, uh, got some drool there.”

You open your mouth to retort but realize your brain has short circuited from the beauty of the man in front of you.

Sure, you’re married and have been together for a long time. Doesn’t mean you aren’t still widely attracted to the man.

He gives your ass a smack. “We better get going. Don’t want to be late.”

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After changing into a fresh pair of panties, you and Andy head on over to your neighbor's house across the street.

You both head ou tback where the party is in full blast. “Well look what the fucking cat dragged in! The Barbers!”

Your eyes instantly spot the man yelling. “Hi, Mike!”

You let go of Andy’s hand and let Mike pull you into a quick hug. You’re soon pulled out of it by his wife Kate and pulled into her arms. “Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually showed up!” She pulls away and looks you up and down. “Cute dress! Come on, let’s go get you a drink!”

You turn your head about to see if Andy wants anything, but see a beer has already been put into his hand and is standing in a circle of the other husband’s chatting. Looks like he’s even enjoying himself. You knew he would.

Kate drops your hand after you make it over to the drink table. “So, what’s your poison?”

You eye the table and decide to play it safe and stick with an old fashioned wine cooler. Kate just rolls her eyes at you. “That’s it?”

You twist the cap off and take a quick sip. Just as good as you remember them. “I don’t want to get too crazy. Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve had one of these.”

Kate looks up after she gets done pouring an adequate amount of rum into her coke. “Well, they are delicious. So, how’ve you been? How’s, uh, everything?”

You take another swig before answering. Of course she’s wondering if you’d had any luck conceiving. You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing yet, but we’ve only been trying for a few months. Plus my doctor said it may take awhile since I had been on birth control since I was 15. Might take a little bit for all those hormones to leave my system.”

She nods. “Yeah, it took about a year for me to get pregnant. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll happen!”

You shake your head. “I’m not worried. It’ll happen if it’s meant to. And if not, then we’ll adopt. I’m not going to stress over it. The doctor said stressing about it can make it not happen so I’m going to stay positive.”

Kate smiles at you. “That’s a great mindset! Regardless of how it happens, you’ll make an amazing momma!”

“Thank you! I hope so! I’m sure I’ll be asking you for lots of tips.”

She takes a sip of her drink as she looks over at her kids playing around the yard with the other neighborhood kids. “Oh, I’ve got plenty!”

The 2 of you are soon joined by a couple other women you hadn’t seen in awhile either. You guys chat and gossip about everything that’s been going on lately. As the conversation turns to something you’re less than interested in, you can’t help but let your eyes wander over to Andy.

The men have migrated to a group of lawn chairs and are laughing about something. Andy’s eyes catch yours and he gives you a smile. God you loved him. You return it before getting pulled back into the conversation when one of the ladies asks how your job is going.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

About 2 hours later it starts getting dark out. All the women had rejoined their significant others at the lawn chairs.

You were currently laying against Andy’s chest, him leaned back with his arms wrapped around you. The fire had been going for a while now and you were all nice and toasty.

A few of the couples had gathered their kids and bid their goodbyes. That left only Kate’s and Mike’s kids and a few couples left sat around the fire.

You’re just enjoying listening to the conversations going on around you, letting the vibrations of Andy’s chest as he talks to Mike lull you to sleep.

You just get your eyes shut when your phone starts going off.

You quickly grab it and silence it. Kate asks if everything is okay. You wave a hand in her direction. “Yeah, just my mom texting me.”

But that’s a lie.

That wasn’t your text tone that went off. You knew that sound well. And judging from the way Andy is now practically squirming underneath you, so does he.

You have this app on your phone to help track when you’re ovulating. And anytime you’re in a peak ovulation time, an alarm goes off. The sound has lately made your husband feral. He’ll bend you over the nearest surface and stuff you full.

Speaking of.

He is currently subtly rutting his erection into your ass.

You hold back a whimper and grab onto his arm. “Andy, stop. Not here.”

He leans down to whisper into your ear, “Should’ve thought about that when you made plans to come here. You know what that fucking alarm does to me. Need to be inside you baby girl. Now.”

Oh, fuck.

You’re about to suggest going home when the rest of the couples, and kids, start to stand up and head toward the house. Mike goes over and puts the fire out.

Kate comes over to your chair. “We’re going to head inside and watch the new Halloween movie. You guys wanna come?”

You don’t even have time to open your mouth to respond before Andy does. “Nah, I think we’re going to head home. Both of us are a little tired. Aren’t we, sweetheart?”

You nod your head. “Yeah, the fire made me tired.”

She nods. “Okay, well let’s get lunch next week?”

You agree. “Sounds great! Thank you for inviting us.”

She waves as she heads inside. You go to get up but are forcefully pulled back down. “Just where do you think you’re going, baby girl?” He moves your hair to the side and starts kissing and biting at your neck, all the while moving his right hand under your dress.

“Well I thought we could head home and take care of-“ But you’re cut off when his fingers make contact with your clothed core.

“Too far. Need you here, now.”

You go to protest but he moves your panties aside and sinks a finger into you.

You smack your hand to your mouth to keep your moan in. Andy just chuckles behind you as he adds another finger and starts scissoring them around. “Need to keep quiet, baby. Don’t want the neighbors knowing what we’re doing out here.”

You clench down on his fingers. “Oh? Maybe you do, huh? Does my baby girl want to get caught?”

You can’t even respond. You start grinding against his hand. He indulges you for a few minutes before he pulls his fingers out and flips you around so that you’re straddling him. He pulls you in for a lust filled kiss before he grabs your hands and puts them at the top of his pants. “Go on. Take me out.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Not wasting any time, you unbutton and unzip his slacks. You quickly find out he has gone commando this evening. You look up at him in surprise. He just gives you a sexy smirk. “Easier access?”

You roll your eyes and lean back in for a kiss, your right hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock, pumping it up and down.

Andy brushes your hand away and pulls your panties to the side. “Sorry sweetheart. Need to be inside you.”

Not wanting to wait any longer yourself, you grab ahold of his cock and hover over him and rub his tip along your soaked slit before sinking down on his length. You throw your head back and let out a sigh of relief. You love nothing more than to be filled by your husband.

Andy takes a minute to watch the pleasure on your face. It doesn’t last very long though before he grabs your hips and starts grinding you back and forth in his lap.

You don’t catch the moan that escapes you this time.

“Shhh. Need to be a good girl and stay quiet while your husband fills you up.”

You nod and place your hands on his shoulders as you take over the movement of your hips, picking up the pace. Andy releases his hold on your hips and smacks your ass before pulling the top of your dress down enough so your tits spring free. He pays extra attention to your nipples, knowing how much you like it.

After a few minutes, you change from grinding to bouncing up and down on his cock as best you can on a lawn chair. You can already feel yourself close to an orgasm. “Andy, please. Gonna cum. Need help. Please.”

He repositions a little so that his left leg hangs off the side of the lawn chair and plants his foot on the ground. He grabs the back of your head with his left hand and pulls you down until you’re chest to chest, pulling you into another kiss. He takes his right hand and moves it in between you so he can rub your clit.

He uses the little leverage he has with his foot and starts thrusting up into you, hitting your g spot from this position. You moan into his mouth.

“Fuck, baby girl. Squeezing me so good. Won’t last much longer after you cum. Need to fill you up.”

You’re both now just panting into each other’s mouths. “Please Andy.N-need it. Need your cum.”

“Yeah? Need me to fill you up, huh? Yeah you do. Gonna fuck a baby into you sweetheart.”

And that’s what does you in. You cum with a silent cry, your hands digging into his shoulders.

He only lasts a few more thrusts before he gives into his own pleasure. You can feel his warm spend filling you up as he slows his thrusts down, eventually coming to a stop. You both take a minute to catch your breath before you make eye contact and burst out laughing.

“Can’t believe we just fucked on a lawn chair in our neighbors backyard.”

He pulls you in for a sweet kiss. “I fucking love you, Mrs. Barber.”

You smile. “I love you, Mr Barber.”

He cups your face and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, smiling when you press a kiss to it. “Think we better get home, sweet girl. Before I take you on this chair again.” As he says this, you can feel him start to harden inside of you.

Startled at how quick he’s ready to go again, you quickly get up and let out a hiss as he slips out of you.

You right your clothes as best you can before grabbing your phone and helping him up.

He tucks his cock back into his slacks as best he can with a hard on and zips and buttons them up. He grabs your hand and starts practically pulling you towards your guy's house.

“Hurry up baby. That pussy isn’t going to fill itself up.”

You were in for a long night.

Tags: @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @patzammit​ @bluemusickid​ @wanderinglunarlights  

[rengokuswif3]

Imagine the hashiras dating a female bakugo with or without quirk your choice.

Them being a amazing fighter and cook and in private they are calmer and less explosive

A/N: Included who I thought would work well with a s/o like that!

Giyu Tomioka

LITERALLY TODOBAKU

You’re all loud and intimidating and he’s quiet and intimidating. WILL pick you up and carry you away from stupid fights you’ve started, unless they’re with Obanai then he’ll sit back and watch the show

Honestly a very well balanced couple, you have the aggressive passion that makes up for his…unenthusiastic approach to things

He does like being alone with you too, since you do settle down and enjoy the peace he brings into the relationship. Dinners are silent but candlelit and holding hands under the table (even though you’re alone)

Sanemi Shinaguzawa

Oh boy, everyone HATES you two

Like literally you’ll be screaming at each other one minute then making out against the wall the next second (Gyomei just covers Muichiro’s eyes as everyone else is annoyed as fuck)

The both of you will calm down when it’s just the two of you, but your neighbors complain a LOT about the noise from all your arguments, and stuff that y’all do to get your anger out after arguments-

Training is definitely fun against him, cause you both won’t hold back on each other but will help each other patch up afterwards. And after he comes home from a mission all beat up, you’ll scold him for getting hurt as you bandage him up, and he won’t talk back for once

Mitsuri Kanroji

THE GRUMPY ONE IS SOFT FOR THE SUNSHINE ONE TROUPE. HAVE YOU SEEN HER BOYFRIEND

Would absolutely love your cooking, she’d try to hold back at first but once you figure out her past and tell her to dig in, she will gladly have 8 bowls of your food and still have room for whatever dessert you whip up

She loves seeing you fight against the other Hashira during training, she’ll cheer you on and squeal with delight when you win and go give her a victory kiss

Shinobu Kocho

Oh honey have fun-

She is a brat tamer don’t even tell me otherwise

When you give her attitude she’ll just have her usual smile on her face but she’ll grab your chin and make you look at her as she warns you to chill the hell out

She does like someone feisty, she thinks it’s cute when you get worked up about something and just stomp to the kitchen to cool off while making something delicious

You cook for her and all her butterfly girls and they always love your food, and they all see right through your mean exterior and have fun with you anyways

Kyojuro Rengoku

HAPPY MAN AND GRUMPY WOMAN. He is a golden retriever boyfriend with an antisocial cat girlfriend

But YOUR COOKING IS HIS FAVORITE THING EVER. NOTHING WILL BEAT COMING HOME FROM A HARD DAY TO YOUR GRUMPY FACE SETTING THE TABLE FOR A HUGE MEAL

Everytime he yells “TASTY” about your cooking, you admit you get a bit softer and drop your usual resting bitch face…at least until he points it out

If you’re yelling at someone he’s just standing behind you with his blank happy face, but if you go too far he’ll drag you away and apologize to the person before hugging you until you calm down

[undertalethingems]

[Re]Fused Character Spotlight #1: Thresher

The fused form of Undyne and Papyrus, Thresher is a nigh-unstoppable ball of enthusiasm and energy. A reflection of their friendship cranked up to 11, there’s really only one way to describe this fusion: intense. The one thing that can reliably put a damper on their spirits is the possibility of needlessly harming those they care about—which, between the two of them, is basically anyone.

Uses they/them

Endless enthusiasm for whatever they’re doing: fighting? Oh yeah! Puzzles? Duh!!! Just hanging out? It’s gonna be the best hangout possible!

Would Die For Their Friends (but would Prefer Not To, because then they don’t get to hang out with their friends anymore)

Loud. Seriously, ear protection is required for anyone spending a significant amount of time around them (unless you happen to not have ears, but even then....)

Physically very strong, visually intimidating--but hates scaring people. They want to intimidate their enemies, not terrorize their neighbors! (the neighbors were terrorized anyway.... see below:)

Can go for days without sleep and is constantly on the move and looking for things to do; this can lead to restlessness and disruption of others’ lives and homes. When they finally un-fuse, both halves are exhausted  from all the activity. Papyrus hates the ensuing downtime, and would probably only succeed in wearing himself out more if Sans didn’t make him relax. Undyne deals with it appropriately but is very grumpy until she recovers. Yet they’re always happy to fuse again.

Battle style: attacks are like puzzles and combine blue and green soul magic (block attacks in the right order during green soul mode, maze-like and platforming sections during blue). No gaster blasters, but bone-spear attacks fill same role of special heavy-hitting attack. Enjoys both ranged or hand-to-hand combat. Will challenge anyone, then be disappointed no one wants to fight--but very few can actually match them.

Most likely to un-fuse due to almost harming bystanders, exhaustion, and disagreements about puzzle design.

[bangtancastle]

A Royal Christmas in July

July is coming again, and it’s time to kill the summer heat with some wintery fics!

❆ Sign up here

❆ Masterlist

Regulations:

❆ Must follow our net guidelines

╰ (code of conduct, warnings)

❆ Must be sfw

❆ Must be Christmas themed

❆ Must be a minimum of 1k words

❆ Must include at least 2 quote prompts (and/or) 1 plot prompt

Timeline:

❆ Sign-ups open: Apr. 23rd - May 31st

❆ Story details due: June 23rd - June 29th

❆ Masterlist made: June 30th

❆ Posting period: July 1st - July 31st

Quote prompts:

“I told you a fake tree and real candles were a bad combination.” 

“What do you mean you ate all the cookies?!”

“You are going straight on the naughty list.”

“What did the ornament say to another ornament? … I love hanging with you!”

“As a kid, Christmas was all about presents…but now it’s your presence.”

“So, I had a bit too much to drink and…I what?” “You confessed. To me.”

“Oh my gosh is it snowing!?” “No, it’s raining salt…of course it’s snowing!”

“Why are they called reindeer if they’re winter animals…shouldn’t they be snowdeers?” “What was in that punch?”

 “You bought me a present? I thought you didn’t like me.” “I…never said that.”   

“So, I did something annoying.” “You…put multiple boxes within boxes?” “Well…yeah. But the thing is, there’s a ring in the smallest box.”

“What’s this?” “You didn’t decorate so… I thought I could do something about it.”

“Stop being such a grinch!”

“You wanna…hot chocolate and chill?” *winks*

“Well, just because you're in the hospital doesn't mean that you can't celebrate Christmas!”

“I know we hate each other or whatever, but can I come inside? I think I lost my keys, and the party next door is not for me.”

Plot prompts:

Character A’s family announces last minute they’ll be visiting for Christmas. Their s/o, Character B, must help them get ready despite the fact that the two of them were supposed to spend the holidays alone.

Character A gets Character B in a secret Santa exchange and buys them a very expensive but sentimental gift knowing it’s something A has always wanted. Their only hope is that A doesn’t figure out it’s from them.

Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party.

Roommates, Character A and Character B, throw a tropical-themed Christmas party after their radiator breaks and super-heats their house. Is it the radiator, or does the other person look better than I thought?

Character A’s best friend rigs the Secret Santa, because they know A has a crush on Character B.

Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé.

Character A and Character B broke up, but now they meet at a Christmas party.

Character A can’t travel to see their family on Christmas, so they invite their grumpy loner neighbor Character B.

Character A returns to their birth-town for the holidays. Character B is their estranged childhood best friend.

Character A loses a bet and has to wear a different ugly Christmas sweater every day till Christmas. Character B works at a clothing store.

Character A overhears Character B’s Christmas wish and decides to fulfill it.

Character A is used to celebrating Christmas in fashion very different from what Character B is used to.

Character A isn’t going home for Christmas because of family drama, and their roommate, Character B, invites them to come home for Christmas with them.

Character A and Character B, both gatecrashers, kiss under the mistletoe at a party they both crashed. After the party, they both realize they seemed to have forgotten to exchange names.

Character A and Character B both volunteered at a holiday charity, and they find themselves in a competition to see who can raise more money.

Tracking tag: castlejulychristmas22

Please reblog this post upon signing up

If you have any questions feel free to ask us here

Some of these plot prompts are from @alloftheprompts

[lilolpotato]

So, yeah I'm lying awake rn it's already 12:01am and I have lazy request. Could you do some haikyuu boys (Kageyama, Akaashi and Kita) telling their s/o to go to sleep when they saw that they're still awake? You could do any scenarios u like as long as haikyuu boys tell s/o to sleep cuz I need sleep I have proposal this day🤦🏻‍♀️ - anon

HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN YOU REFUSE TO SLEEP

Fluff, very very soft

ONE nsfw reference, but only one

(aged up! Kageyama, Akaashi, and Kita)

KAGEYAMA

he’s such an awkward guy

He wakes up to the clicks and clacks of your aesthetic keyboard

he notices how long you’ve been working and gets a little concerned with the amount of coffee by your desk and your alarmingly wide eyes as you type as quickly as possible

Kageyama’s a little nervous to approach you, because he knows you’ve been stressed and he doesn’t want to make it worse

But that quickly goes away as he takes in your exhausted appearance and the bags underneath your eyes

Slowly, he approaches you like you’re a wounded animal, and rests his large hands on your shoulders

He won’t say anything at first, just silently bends down in order to rest his forehead on your shoulder

When you don’t say anything, he sleepily mumbles, “Come back to bed with me? I, um. I miss you.”

He gently pulls you away from your work, even though you protest a little, and brings you into his arms.

He might overwork himself every now and then, but he will not tolerate you doing the same, especially if it affects your health.

“Close your eyes, okay? Just for a little bit...” he trails off as you both fall asleep, his arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest

AKAASHI

Akaashi is no stranger to this habit of yours.

You both go to bed at eleven, and yet only Akaashi actually goes to sleep.

He woke up to the sound of “These chicken nuggets are bussin bussin.”

You smiled sheepishly at him, the light of your phone illuminating your face as he groggily noticed the time. 3:42 am.

He pulled you into him, snuggling into your chest as he breathed a soft sigh of contentment.

“Please sleep love. Listening to people talk about Nature’s Cereal isn’t worth losing sleep over.” He grumbled.

He pouted a little looking up at you, “besides I saw Bokuto on your for you page once and it made me jealous.”

Sleepy Akaashi was both a baby and a grumpy neighbor, it was undeniable

But sleepy Akaashi was also irresistible, and your eyes finally felt heavy as you passed out with his face almost suffocated by your chest and your deep breaths slightly moving strands of his hair

The next morning he’ll wake up early to make chicken (or vegan chicken substitute) nuggets and pancakes, and will have the ingredients set up for you guys to try Nature’s Cereal

KITA

He refuses to sleep until you have

You’re the love of his life? He wants to do everything with you.

That doesn’t mean you won’t hear him complain every now and then.

“It’s not logical, you could just do this in the morning after proper rest.”

“Are you reading hurt comfort fanfiction while doing math?”

Even if he tried to go to sleep while you stay up he’ll feel really guilty and just won’t be able to sleep.

He literally goes through the fives stages of grief.

“No, we aren’t staying up late. We’re not doing it.” Kita grumpily crossed his arms and plopped on the bed.

“Why am I so bad at cooking rice? I should be good, I’m a rice farmer for goodness sake!” He complained quietly to his pillow.

“Okay, Y/n if you go to sleep right now I’ll let you peg me.” He said with a serious face. (you admittedly weighed your options with that one)

“This is sad. I have to wake up at 8. I’m sad now.” He pouted, sleepy tears falling down his face as he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m not sleeping tonight, am I.” He let out a heavy sigh.

At about 1 am, he takes away your computer so you have to go to sleep

You both lie in bed, all of a sudden not feeling all that sleepy.

“Shin, can I peg you now?”

“... yeah.” He sighed.

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[scotianostra]

Happy 75th Birthday the excellent Scottish actor David Hayman.

Hayman, one of Scotland’s most acclaimed actors of stage and screen was born in Bridgeton, Glasgow on February 9th 1948.

David Hayman grew up as one of three children in a working class family in Drumchapel, Glasgow. Leaving school without any academic qualifications he started work as a would-be engineer at 16. One day, wearing his grease stained boiler suit, he marched into the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama and announced his intention to become an actor. He still has no idea where this came from, he is basically a shy person and there was no family history of acting. He took advice and joined an amateur dramatics group and a year later was accepted to study drama and has never been out of work since.

His film and television credits are, frankly, much too numerous to list but include his superb portrayal of hard man Jimmy Boyle in “Sense of Freedom” and, of course, he is recognisable everywhere as Detective Chief Superintendent Michael Walker in Linda La Plante’s long running Trial and Retribution series.He has also starred in the hit Scottish cop drama Shetland as well as Scottish comedy shows Scotch & Wry, Rab C Nesbitt and Still Game.

Hayman has also directed numerous films and TV shows as well as regularly treading the boards in the Theatres.

Away from acting, David established his Glasgow-based charity Spirit Aid in 2001. It has gone on to become one of Scotland’s most successful small scale humanitarian organisations. He started Spirit Aid because he wanted to do a Scottish Live Aid at Hampden, but his rock stars let him down. “They were all, ‘Oh, man, I’m burned out,’ and I was thinking, ‘You’re sitting on your fat arse on your sofa with £40 million in the bank. Go and sit in a refugee camp in Afghanistan and tell me you’re burned out’. But I thought, I believe in this, I’ve got to keep going.”

He spends several months every year visiting his charity’s relief projects where he employs indigenous workers wherever possible. His fundraising operations include Operation Loo Roll, a project selling toilet paper that raised £100,000 in 2007. The charity undertakes humanitarian relief projects from Kosovo to Guinea-Bissau, Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, Malawi and South Africa.

Hayman is a big campaigner for a Scottish film studio, which is looking like happening soon, he says “It takes the Americans to come in and build a shed where they shoot Outlander and that’s the nearest thing we have to a film studio, think of all the movies that we’ve lost, all the money that we’ve lost all the way back to Braveheart.”

David was recently in the fab comedy from Scottish director Michael Caton-Jones, Our Ladies, “set mainly in Edinburgh a group of Catholic school girls get an opportunity to go to the capital for a choir competition, but they’re more interested in drinking, partying and hooking up than winning the competition” it is an adaptation of Scottish author, Alan Warner, of Morvern Callar fame’s third novel Sopranos, I read the book in the late 90’s it is a laugh out loud book, and the film is also very good.

Hayman was in an interesting film,  My Neighbor Adolf, last year, which I haven’t got round to watching yet, set in 1960;s Brazil he plays   a “lonely and grumpy” Holocaust survivor convinces himself that his new neighbour is none other than Adolf Hitler. We also saw him in the sequel   Fisherman's Friends: One and All, both films get ratings of 6.2, and 6.4 on IMDB . I have just started a binge watch of Chemistry of Death, a Brit crime thriller series which is on Paramount plus. Last year David played a Chieftain in the Disney Star Wars prequal series Andor.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 

“But if she does…” 

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

First Date

Summary: The reader accidentally sends an angry email off to a co-worker but winds up with a date instead...

Pairing: Landscaper!Dean x reader

Square: First Date

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​​​ . Enjoy!

_______

You yawned as you trotted out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand down to your home office. You plopped down in your chair and got on your computer, checking your email with a tired hum. You saw an email from the facilities manager and sighed.

“Oh come on,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I’m work from home now, jackass. Refund my parking pass. That was like five hundred bucks.”

You growled and typed out an angry email in response, getting so fed up when you finished you knocked your coffee all over your computer.

“Shit!” you said, grabbing some tissues and moping it up.

You saw a sent message appear on screen and you shook your head.

“No. No. No, I didn’t send that. Recall, recall,” you said, shoving the tissues aside. It’d already been opened though and the recall failed, your jaw dropping. “No! I just moved into this house! I can’t afford to get fired.”

You grabbed your phone and decided to bite the bullet, trying to dial the guy when you got an email back.

As highlighted in my original message below, your refund will show up next month along with all other refunds to staff now working from home.

You hit reply and started writing an apology, praying he didn’t report you to HR.

I’m so sorry. It was an accident. I wrote it to express my frustrations and had no intentions of ever sending it. I’m deeply embarrassed, Mr. Winchester, and apologize once again.

You bit your bottom lip and waited a minute, getting a response back.

Thank you for your apology, Ms. Y/L/N. Seeing as today is my last day and it was a mistake, I see no reason to pursue this further.

“Ah, thank you, thank you,” you said. “Now let’s deal with this coffee.”

Two Weeks Later

“So what’s the damage?” you asked. The man in the flannel and baseball cap wrote up a tally on his clipboard before looking back at the house and yard again.

“Normally, for total lawn maintenance, that includes your weeding, trimming, spring and fall clean up, etc. for a lawn this large, you’re looking at around eighty a week,” he said. “But we’re trying to break into this neighborhood so let’s call it fifty a week. We get ten yards around here, we’ll knock it down to forty. How’s that sound?”

“Fifty for everything?” you asked. “Including the snow removal?”

“We’ll negotiate a separate contract for that but I’d call that about 350 for that season,” he said. “So. We have a deal?”

“For fifty bucks, you got a deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Perfect. I will have a contract written up and sent over to you this evening,” he said. He dug around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card.

“Super Natural Lawn Services,” you said. “Winchester.”

“Hm?” he said, writing something down on his clipboard.

“Name sounds familiar is all,” you said.

“Used to be in charge of managing the grounds at a local place until they decided to have their staff work from home. Ms. Y/L/N,” he said with a smirk. 

“Oh my…” you said, Dean chuckling. “I am so-”

“I like running my own business a lot better,” he said. “Besides, you apologized. We’re all good. We’ll get that contract straightened out and I’ll get a team over Friday morning to start on your landscape design.”

“I really am sorry, Mr. Winchester. I-”

“Y/N. It’s good. I promise. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You nodded and he headed back to his car, giving you a wave as he drove off.

Two Weeks Later

“Hey, Dean?” you called from your front porch. He poked his head up from where he was head first in a notebook, staring at the dirt edge around your house. “You want a drink? It’s really hot out.”

“I’m okay,” he said, sweating pouring off of him.

“You want to come into the air conditioning for a minute?” you asked. He was about to say no when he took off his hat and his hair was soaked with sweat. “Come on.”

“Alright. Just for a minute,” he said. He hopped up onto the porch and stepped into your foyer, letting out a sigh. “Okay, that’s nice.”

“You like lemonade?”

“Sure,” he said. He took off his boots and followed you to your kitchen, taking a seat at the table when you waved him down. You brought over a large glass, Dean gulping it down. “Do you have a minute? Now that your lawn is in good shape, I have a few ideas for landscaping near the house if I could pick your brain.”

“Sure,” you said. He flipped open his notebook and showed you a drawing, your eyes wide. “You drew that? It’s great.”

“Do you like that kind of style? It’s minimal upkeep but it’s not barren out there this way,” he said.

“I love it. How much does that cost?” you asked.

“It’s part of your weekly bill. I have a few other ideas in here you can take a look at and tell me which you like best,” he said. You flipped through the notebook with him, still liking the first one the most. “Alright. We’ll get that going for you then.”

“My neighbor was asking about you the other day. I gave her your name,” you said.

“Fingers crossed we get a bit more business around here then,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thanks for the drink, Y/N.”

One Month Later

You hummed as you sat on your front porch with your morning coffee, watching Dean across the street and walk around a yard with his team. They’d already done your yard for the week and you knew Dean was up to about six or so houses in the development. With a big stretch you glanced over to your car and saw something on the windshield. You got up and walked over, plucking off a note.

Found a problem with one of your plants. Rabbits were eating it. I’ll replace it later today.

You looked across the street just as he looked over. You gave a wave and he returned it before you headed back inside.

Four hours later you were getting home from the store to find another note stuck up against your front door.

Plant should be all good now. Enjoy your weekend.

“Hey,” you heard behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Sorry.”

“Hi, Dean,” you said. “S’alright. I got your note.”

“It was a simple fix,” he said. “I actually am looking for my work gloves. I either left them at your place or the Jones’ but I didn’t find them over there.”

“Are they black?” you asked.

“Yeah. You find them?” he asked. 

“Maybe they’re near my new plant,” you said, nodding your head. He looked over and they were on the grass beside it.

“Ah. That’s what I get for taking calls while working,” he said. He grabbed them and started to leave, pausing at the driveway. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“You single?”

“Why?”

“Cause if you’re dating someone, I don’t think my odds of getting a date will go very far,” he said as he spun around. You smiled and leaned against the porch post. “Single?”

“Why would you want to date me? I was very rude to you once.”

“You were pissed about throwing money away for no good reason. Trust me, I got plenty of emails that day. You’re the only one that apologized. Plus you may have once told the grumpy guy in the cafeteria to go do a job that makes him happy.”

“You knew who I was when I emailed you, didn’t you.”

“Yeah. I looked you up at work. You were nice back then. You always offer my crew cold water if you’re home. I just like you,” he said.

“Pick me up at seven,” you said as you spun around. “You decide what we’re doing.”

“Alright,” he said. “I wouldn’t advise a dress and heels.”

“Now I’m intrigued. I’ll see you later then, Dean.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” said Dean when you opened your front door just before seven. You laughed when he held out a packet of flower seeds. “They’ll go great in a planter on the porch.”

“Thanks,” you said. You put the packet inside and locked up, following him to his car. “So what are we doing?”

“I figured we could do something and grab a bite after if that’s okay?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “Were you thinking of a movie?”

“Hopefully it’s more fun than a movie,” he said. “Trust me.”

“Okay, that is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date,” you said, Dean chuckling as you both turned in your helmets. “I did not even know there was go-karting in this town. Like really nice go-karting too.”

“We could come back sometime,” he said. “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Same,” you said. 

“Well follow me then,” he said, walking past his car in the parking lot and headed for the street. He took your hand and you walked across over to a diner, Dean walking the two of you inside and to a booth by the corner.

Twelve minutes later you had a double bacon cheeseburger with jalapenos in front of you along with a basket of fries and onion rings. You dug in, Dean smiling to himself as he enjoyed his own burger.

“Too much?” you said.

“Save room for dessert. They have out of this world sundaes,” he said.

“If it’s as good as this burger, I’m sold,” you said. “So what made you want to have a landscaping business?”

“I get to be outside, do some hard work but some mental work too. We’re doing pretty good for our first year,” he said. “I didn’t like my old job very much.”

“It sounds like this one is working out for you.”

“It is. Probably would have taken me longer to ask you out if I hadn’t sort of known you already but I don’t mind,” he said, taking one of your fries.

“You flirt with all your customers or just me?”

“Just you,” he said. “How’s it working out so far?”

“Pretty good. Want to go catch the music fest downtown after our meal? Main act comes on at nine,” you said. “Unless you’re not into rock.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You and me are gonna get along just fine.”

_____