#but I’m out like almost a hundred n twenty dollars

[dayz-ina-daze]

THANKS PAYPAL YOU ABSOLUTE CLOWN

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Behind the Crime

Warren Lipka x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral male receiving, dominate warren, underage drinking, underage smoking, use of marijuana, rough sex, hint of choking, talk of robbery, um yeah i think that’s it

summary: from the moment you were brought into the heist, you knew working with warren was going to be hard…

word count: 3.4k

a/n: sorry for not posting guys i have not been on the grind lately. i watched this movie and omfg evan was so attractive i just needed to write. if you’re the real warren lipka just scroll this is about evan…

~~~

You sit back in your chair, the crew members adjusting your mic. You’re starting to regret doing this interview, but it’s too late to back out now. Everything’s already set up, the camera is about to be rolling. The interviewer is sitting a few feet away from you, notes in his hand. He waits for you to give him the signal that you’re ready. You nod, he begins.

“So, y/n, how did you become involved with the group?” He asks.

“I was first approached by Spencer when I was eating lunch outside one day...”

~~~

You were sitting alone, the cool fall breeze almost too cold to be comforting. You didn’t pay much mind to it though, you were more focussed on your studying. You were flipping through the pages of another history article when suddenly there was a presence beside you. Looking up at them as soon as you noticed, you recognized the boy as someone from your class.

“Can I help you?” You asked, your tone polite.

He looked nervous as if he were about to ask you out. “Hi, uh, I don’t know if you remember my name, I’m Spencer we have Art History together.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen you,” you replied. “Do you need help with the homework or something?”

“No, I actually wanted to talk to you about something else, if you’re not busy or anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You look away for a second before replying. “Sure, sit down if you want I’m not busy.”

He smiled at you before quickly sitting at the spot across from you. He put his bag on the table, you could see him take a deep breath. Was he really going to ask you out? You thought he was cute, but definitely not your type. You started to pray he wouldn’t say anything along those lines.

“I started to ask around a week or two ago about people who are good with computers and stuff, a lot of people told me you were the best person to go to,” he started. He lacked confidence in his voice, you felt bad for the poor guy but paid close attention to his words. “I need some... help with cameras.”

“What kind of cameras?” You asked, intrigued.

What he was saying was true, you were decently good with computers. You mostly would hack into places and disable things you didn’t like, like the cameras on the public library computers. It wasn’t anything illegal, at least you didn’t think it was illegal. It probably was, but you didn’t care.

“Just you know cameras in... semipublic places...”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what kind though? Phone, laptop, desktop, security?”

“Security,” he answered quietly. “But before you say no listen, how does a couple hundred thousand dollars' worth of payment sound?

“What?”

“I won’t tell you the details till I know you’re on board but let's just say something is going down and we need help with the cameras. The pay would be huge and all you’d have to do is just mess with some cameras for like twenty minutes.”

You only stared at him; your mouth slightly hung open. Was he being serious? Was he really asking you to join him in a potential robbery that would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars? You never would’ve expected to be asked such a question on a cloudy Thursday at lunch. You shut your book completely and look around to make sure nobody is close.

“This money, it’s guaranteed?”

He nods. “As long as we get the job done, you’ll have it.”

You knew it was crazy, you knew whatever was going to happen would either result in you going to prison or having to run off into hiding. But the thought of being able to pay all your student loans off and have extra money to live off of was more appealing. Hacking into cameras wasn’t that hard, and it wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Unless it was.

“If you’re trying to get me to make sure a murder or rape isn’t on camera I’ll snitch,” you warned him.

“Oh no, nothing like that is happening at all. It’s just you know a robbery,” he replied, his expression genuine.

You nodded your head, convinced whatever he was asking couldn’t be that bad. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do it.”

~~~

“What was your first impression of the guys?

You smile. “They were really cool, funny, just overall really fun people to hang out with.”

“Do you remember the first time you met all of them?”

“Of course, like it was yesterday...”

~~~

The house you sat in front of didn’t look like a typical criminal's house. It looked like an average American’s family house actually. You were parked out on the road outside the house Spencer told you to go to, you were meeting the rest of the people involved with the robbery. It had been about ten minutes of you sitting out there debating whether or not to go in before you got a text from Spencer asking where you were. You sighed, praying to God this decision was the right one before getting out of your car.

You knocked on the front door with a shaky fist. You started to regret your decision, you thought about turning around and leaving, but the door was opened before you could act on it. An older woman stood in front of you, she looked to be in her 50s.

“Oh, you’re very pretty,” she said, making your cheeks turn red. “You’re here to see Warren, right?”

You had no idea who Warren was, but you nodded. The lady's smile grew, and she opened the door for you and ushered you inside. She directed you to the basement entrance, asking you a million questions you had no answers to. After those few but excruciating painful minutes though, you walked down the basement stairs and finally caught sight of Spencer.

There were three other guys in the room and all of their eyes were on you. Two, along with Spencer, were sitting on a couch. One of them was skinny with glasses, the other muscular with no glasses. They didn’t grasp your attention though. The last guy who was standing did. He had long dark curly hair, and eyes to match. His eyes met yours before you watched them slowly move up and down your body. You didn’t know how to react.

“Guys, this is y/n,” Spencer said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hello, I’m Eric,” the guy with glasses introduced himself.

“Chas,” the muscular guy spoke, not paying much attention to you. “Are you sure this was a good idea, Spence? How much do we really know about this chick? No offense.”

“Shut up, we agreed,” Spencer hissed. He waved you over and you complied, walking to the couch and sitting on the end beside him.

The standing guy took a step forward and held out his hand to you. You looked up at him before accepting his handshake. His hand was rough, you liked the feeling of it in yours. “I’m Warren and you are our cameraman or woman I guess.”

You laughed. “I guess.”

“How much has Spencer told you?” Warren asked after letting go of your hand and stepping back. It was then you noticed the maps on the wall with drawings all over them, the layout looked familiar.

“Just that I need to hack some cameras and that it’ll pay me a lot,” you answered. “I don’t even know what you guys are stealing.”

“Well y/n, I’m sure you’ve been to your own school's library right?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever taken a tour of the library’s rare book collection?”

You nodded again.

Warren smirked. “Then you know exactly what we’re stealing.”

Your face fell and you immediately looked at Spencer and the rest of the guys. “Are you serious? You guys want to steal historic books?”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Chas mumbled from his chair.

“Shut up Chas,” Warren quickly snapped. He looked back at you, his dark eyes engulfing yours completely. “We’ve been planning this out for months, and you are the last piece to our puzzle y/n. Think about how much you’ll be earning.”

You didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a bad idea.

~~~

“Chas eventually stopped being cold to me, I actually think in the end he became my closest friend in the group,” you say, finishing your story.

The interviewer gives you a look. “Well, besides Warren right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you reply, a confused look on your face.

“I have to ask if the stories are true, you know about you and him. The other guys say something changed between the two of you after a party you all attended. I mean, didn’t the police even question if your involvement had a deeper meaning than simply the money?”

You shake your head, giving your best performance. “Me and Warren were only ever best friends, there was never a deeper meaning behind anything.”

~~~

Music was pumping through your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head you could feel it. It had been a few weeks since you met the guys, and they all wanted to do something fun before the heist. So, a frat party was naturally the easiest option. That’s where you were now, already two shots and half a joint in. You didn’t know where Spencer, Nick, and Warren were, but Chas was dancing with you.

Though the two of you got off on the wrong foot, you and Chas quickly learned how well you get along. He was a good friend, all of the guys were. You liked how easily they could make you laugh and brighten your mood. They were all good people who you enjoyed being around.

Warren was the only one that you felt different for. You didn’t know why, but from the first day you met you knew your feelings for him would be different than the other three. The way he looked at you alone was completely different than the others. There was always something darker in his eyes, something you knew wasn’t supposed to be there for simply a friend. Every time the two of you looked at each other, your stomach filled with butterflies. You wanted it too. But in those first few weeks, nothing had happened. No matter how much either of you wanted it.

After some minutes of you and Chas dancing, Warren and Spencer appeared. They asked if the two of you wanted to go out and smoke, you both agreed and followed them outside the back. Not too many people were in the backyard, but there were enough for there to be a bonfire going. The four of you found an empty spot near the fire and sat down. Warren took out a joint and lit it before passing it around.

“Where’s Nick?” You asked after taking a hit.

Spencer shrugged. “Probably with the weird kids doing weird stuff.”

“He’s not that weird,” Chas replied. “He’s just awkward.”

You watched as Warren took another long hit of the joint. Because of the weed and alcohol, you found yourself even more attracted to him than when you were sober. You wanted so desperately to run your fingers through his hair, you wanted to hear his voice as you touched him. He suddenly met your gaze, his lips curled up into a mesmerizing smile. You wanted to kiss him. It was too much for you to handle.

You swallowed and stood up, brushing the dirt off your shorts. “I need to um use the bathroom.”

You didn’t wait for any of their replies. Instead, you rushed back into the house straight to the kitchen. You poured yourself a shot, downing it before giving it a second thought. You needed these feelings to go away. How were you supposed to work with Warren if you couldn’t even look at him without thinking about having sex with him? It made you feel awful. A hookup couldn’t be the reason the robbery went bad, you refused to let that happen.

After another shot, you started to forget about your feelings. In fact, you started to forget about Warren completely. All you felt was the burning sensation of the alcohol in your stomach and chest, it felt good. You stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway, grabbing the railings of the staircase for support. Suddenly, you felt a presence next to you, their hand on your back.

“Y/N, are you good?” It was Warren.

You turned your head and looked at him, God how could he look even better? “No- I’m not okay.”

“You’re wasted, you need some water,” he said. He moved his hand around your waist and pulled you up straight. You felt like you were on fire. “Come on, back to the kitchen.”

“Why are you here? I just- I just wanna forget about you,” you mumbled.

He started helping you walk back to the kitchen. “What? Why would you want to forget about me?”

“Because... I want you but I can’t have you. I thought you- felt the same that’s why it’s been so hard to resist,” you spoke, stumbling over your words. “I can’t look at you without thinking about you fucking me.”

Even in your drunken state, you could still see the cockiness on Warren’s face. He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter effortlessly before turning and getting you a cup of water. You leaned your head back against one of the cabinets, your head was spinning. You couldn’t think straight.

“Drink,” Warren’s voice filled your ears.

You lifted your head and grabbed the solo cup from his hand, downing the water faster than ever. When you finished, you threw the cup to the floor, your eyes meeting Warren’s once again. He was standing close enough that if you reached, you could touch him.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, or perhaps it was because of how long you’d felt the tension between you two, that gave you the courage to gently place your hand on the top of his head. His hair was soft, just like you’d expected it to be. You smiled and played with his curls. He didn’t object, you were glad. You needed this.

“Do you want me?” You asked, your voice barely audible against the loud music.

“What do you think?”

You shrugged. “I thought so, but I could always be wrong.”

“Maybe I should make it clearer,” he said. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand off his head before stepping closer to you. “If this house wasn’t crowded, I’d fuck you right here, right now.”

Your heart was racing, your cheeks bright red. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Warren was still holding your wrist, it sent electric shocks throughout your body. His eyes began to shift from your eyes to your lips and so on. You swallowed; a lump had formed in your throat.

“There’s probably an empty room somewhere,” you mentioned. “You could take me to one of them and show me you mean what you say.”

Warren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, you’re pretty drunk.”

“I’m not- I swear. I consent, I’ll remember all of this in the morning,” you replied quickly.

“All right.”

Before you could say anything else, Warren scooped you into his arms and began to carry you through the house. You didn’t know whether to pretend you were drunk so it wouldn’t look suspicious or stay awake to also not make it look suspicious. You chose to stay awake and within minutes you and Warren were alone in a bedroom, your lips connected.

The kiss was fast and rough, everything you expected from him. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he towered over you. You wasted no time, immediately kicking off your shoes and pushing Warren back until he fell onto the bed. He pulled you on top of him, guiding your hips in slow motions over his clothed erection. You felt like you were on fire, you needed more.

You broke this kiss and leaned back so you were straddling him. You pulled off your shirt and bra, Warren followed your actions. Once your eyes fell upon his toned abdomen, you audibly moaned. You quickly leaned down again and kissed his chest, beginning a trail down his body. Each breath that left his mouth made your pussy drip even more. And when you reached his navel, his breaths turned into soft whispers.

“Keep going.”

“Please.”

“I’ll do anything.”

When you no longer had any skin left to kiss you looked back up at him, his eyes were already on you. He got your signal and instantly pulled his shorts and boxers off, leaving him completely naked. You weren’t surprised at his size; you had a feeling he’d be big. You started off by slowly stroking him with your hand, the expressions on his face already enough to make you cum.

After a minute or so of that, you bent down and pressed a small kiss to his tip. You loved the way his leg twitched. It made you proud. So, you took him into your mouth. He gasped, one of his hands finding its way to the back of your head. He didn’t push you; he only twirled your hair back into a ponytail-like style and gripped it tight. You moved your head up and down, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. You were never a fan of giving head to guys, but with Warren, it was a different story.

Not much time passed before Warren pushed you gently, telling you he wasn’t going to last much longer. You didn’t care, you wanted him to finish in your mouth. But he told you he wanted to have sex, so you stopped. You peeled off your shorts and underwear before you climbed back onto him. His naked body against yours felt unreal, you were almost convinced this was all part of your drunken imagination.

However, when Warren pulled your head down and began to kiss your lips again, you knew it had to be real. His hands gripped your ass, kneading and playing with your skin. You positioned his tip at your entrance, you were so wet you didn’t need any lube. You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, you wanted to know it was okay. He gave you a nod and so you began to push yourself down on him.

He filled you well, just the perfect amount. You had thrown your head back, a moan escaping your lips. You hadn’t had sex in months, and this was the perfect way to break that streak. You started to move your body forward and backward while simultaneously going up and down. Warren’s grip on your ass tightened with each movement you made.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned. “You do it so well.”

Your confidence was boosted; you began to move faster. This only lasted a few minutes though, much to your dismay. You weren’t too athletic; you didn’t have good stamina. Warren noticed this, and without saying anything he flipped your bodies. Once on top of you, he began violent thrusts. You almost screamed from the pleasure; you’d never felt anything remotely close to it in your life. He hit your cervix each time, it made your back arch off the mattress and your nails dig into his back.

“Warren,” you whimpered. “Oh, fuck Warren.”

One of his hands wrapped around your neck. He didn’t squeeze, he just rested it there. You felt the knot in your stomach form at this. It felt so good to be dominated by him. It had been your dream for weeks, and it had finally come true. You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Warren fucking you fill your senses.

When you came, you practically screamed his name. You swore you could see stars. You’d never experienced an orgasm so hard in your life. Warren came a few seconds after you, you felt his dick pulsing inside you. He collapsed on you. You didn’t care about how his weight crushed you, you still held him as the two of you began to come down from your highs.

~~~

As the crew packs up, you remain in your chair, staring blankly out one of your windows. The interviewer is still across from you, but you don’t notice until he speaks.

“Just tell me one thing, off the record,” he says, grabbing your attention. “Did you love him?”

A small smile grows on your lips. “With all my heart.”

[funnylittlelad]

Back to School - Eddie Munson x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

summary: When Eddie starts working as the handyman for the high school in the next town over he isn't expecting to make any friends. He certainly isn't expecting to meet a kindred spirit in the form of a U.S. History teacher.

word count: 13.6k

tags/warnings: nothing but fluff, no y/n, clumsy Eddie, Steve and Robin being the worst best friends a boy can ask for, HEAVY on the LOTR references like I got self-indulgent not even gonna lie, post-graduation Eddie, Wayne is an angel, Eddie loves pussy almost as much as pussy loves Eddie (a cat it's literally a cat), mentions of weed in passing, nerds in love, strangers to friends to lovers, brief mentions of food, mentions of jail, mentions of death, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of family members drunk driving.

Eddie never thought he’d end up back in high school after finally graduating. If anything, he thought he’d be dead in a ditch somewhere before he ever let that happen. Yet, here he is walking into Jenkinson High for his first day of work. It’s in the town next to Hawkins.

 Even if he wanted a job as a handyman at Hawkins High he’s pretty sure they’d laugh in his face. Luckily, his reputation hasn't followed him to Jenkinson High. Only his skill with his hands and his resourcefulness that’s gotten him this far. It’s not a bad gig, Jenkinson is a well-off town full of well-off people. There are never any serious repairs needed. 

It’s an overall uneventful day. He would even hazard to call it boring. Eddie is sitting in the little office he shares with the custodians in the basement with his boots up on the desk. He’s tossing a blue rubber ball up in the air and catching it. He’s been finding different ways to pass the time until something needs fixing. 

The ball reaches its peak in the air when the phone on the desk rings. Eddie’s feet slam to the ground as he quickly sits up, startled by the sudden trilling. The ball bounces off the top of his head before bouncing across the floor. 

“Maintenance,” Eddie answers the phone.

“Yes, is Mr. Munson there?” a somewhat frazzled-sounding voice asks.

“Speaking.”

“Oh! Perfect! Would you be able to come over to room 218? My overhead screen is stuck and I’m afraid one of the kids will break it if any more of them try,” your voice becomes a little more distant by the end like you pulled away from the phone.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over,” Eddie says.

“Kevin, go sit down. We’re not trying to get the screen up anymore. No, Mr. Munson is going to come help so none of you end up owing the school hundreds of dollars,” you call out, away from the phone.

“Their parents can afford it,” Eddie mumbles without really thinking about it.

You snort, causing him to realize he said the thought out loud. Thankfully, you found it funny or he could have been in trouble. 

“Room 218,” you remind him.

“Room 218.”

***

The first thing that strikes Eddie is you sitting on your desk. Your legs are crossed at the ankles, clean black converse swinging slightly. You gesture wildly as you speak. Then your arms, clad in the forest green knit of your oversized cardigan, pause bent at the elbow. Your hands create finger guns that aim at the ceiling.

“Okay, question time. When was America first discovered?” you ask the class. 

A few hands go up. You point a finger gun at a kid in the front right corner. 

“Henry, right?” you ask.

It’s still the first week of class and you have a good twenty-five kids in those seats. Names are gonna take a while.

“Yeah, uh- 1776?” he answers, confidence waning.

“While that is an important year in US History, it’s not the one I’m looking for, Henry,” you tell him.

Then you point your other finger gun at a student near the back.

“Mara?”

“Yes, 1492,” she’s much more confident than Henry.

Eddie is sure Mara is right. Then you do the second thing that strikes him.

“I can understand why you think that. However, while that’s also an important year in U.S. History, it’s not the one I’m looking for,” you say and put your finger guns back to their starting position.

Any hand that was still up drops. You scan the room for a few moments to see if anyone else decides to take a stab at it.

“No one?” you ask.

No hands raise. You nod and pretend to holster your finger guns before resting your hands on your lap.

“The country we currently call America was invaded in 1492. There was a vibrant, rich, society that existed for centuries before that. Our first unit is going to be dedicated to unpacking the notion that the country was discovered in 1492, despite there having been flourishing communities populating it before that year,” you lecture in a gentle way as if you’re easing them into the lesson.

Eddie swallows nervously, realizing he's been standing in the doorway watching. He definitely doesn't remember a lecture like that during his time at Hawkins High. With a hesitant breath, Eddie gives a rhythmic knock on the open door with a single knuckle. You look over with a smile that makes him feel warm.

“Are you Mr. Munson?” 

“You can just call me Eddie,” he smiles back.

“Okay, Mr. Eddie, I think my overhead screen is jammed,” you nod over your shoulder where, sure enough, the screen hangs half rolled up and lopsided.

Mr. Eddie reddens his cheeks and softens his gaze. It brings up thoughts of Samwise and his Mr. Frodo. He’s tempted to make the reference, but the chances you know a niche set of books are slim to none. Instead, he just nods, feeling like an idiot, and goes to inspect the problem. It’s an unsurprisingly easy fix. He just had to remove the front panel of the mechanism to unbunch the screen. Once he does it snaps up and you clap. 

“Thank you! You're a hero!” you cheer. 

Eddie gives a dramatic bow.

“Why, thank you.”

You let out a little laugh. 

“No problem, Mr. Eddie.”

Eddie leaves breathing just a little harder. 

***

The next time Eddie sees you is in your classroom again, two days later. It’s lunchtime. All of the other teachers are eating together in the lounge, but not you. You’re eating your sandwich at your desk as you read a book. The midday sun drenches you in golden light from the windows lining the far wall. He takes a self-indulgent moment to stare before giving a light tap on the open door. You jump a little as you whip your head to look at him. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Just seeing if everything is alright,” he says, raising a hand apologetically.

“It’s okay,” you smile, “everything’s fine. Why did someone say something?”

Eddie catches your eyes darting to the empty hallway behind him.

“No, it’s just that I’ve noticed the teachers eat together in the lounge, but you’re uh… not,” he rubs the back of his neck suddenly feeling like maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. 

Maybe he should have minded his business.

“Oh, no I don't usually eat with them. They’re… Well, let’s just say there are some generational differences,” you explain tightly.

Eddie nods understandingly.

“I get it. They’re dicks.”

You burst out in surprised laughter. Eddie smiles as he watches your hands cover your mouth, concealing the bright smile you wear. When your laughter peters off, you seem to think about something for a moment.

“Would you like to eat lunch in here with me?” you ask with a shy smile.

His grip tightens on the little silver lunch box that once hid his inventory but now does its intended job. No one has ever asked him to sit with them during lunch. Jenkinson High is providing a much kinder high school experience to Eddie. 

“Sure.”

He pulls a chair up in front of your desk to be across from you. You use a receipt as a bookmark and plop the book in a desk drawer. 

“So, where are you from, Mr. Eddie?” you ask pleasantly.

“You can really just call me Eddie,” he chuckles.

Redness floats to the tops of your cheeks. Mild embarrassment crosses your features.

“Sorry, I thought your tattoo was… I was making a silly joke about these books-”

“Wait, my tattoo? You mean this one,” he points to the most recent addition on the inside of his right upper arm.

It’s the ring of power on the chain Frodo wears. Half of it disappears beneath his short sleeve. 

“Yeah, isn't that Lord of the Rings?” 

Eddie’s mouth falls open briefly before he snaps it shut. 

“It sure is. I didn't think anyone else around here would know anything about it,” he beams.

His smile encourages you to relax. 

“Are you kidding? Those books are a history buff’s dream. It’s high fantasy with real-life historical context and a rich fictional history that’s detailed. Plus, I think being a hobbit sounds peaceful. Y’know, when they're not being dragged on life-threatening quests,” you ramble excitedly. 

“I’m more of a Dúnedain guy myself.”

You squint and really size him up.

“I guess that makes sense. I can see you being a dark mysterious ranger like Aragorn. Does that mean I should call you Strider instead of Mr. Eddie?” You throw him a teasing smile and take a bite of your sandwich.

The action reminds Eddie he’s supposed to be eating too. He pulls out a sloppy PB&J he made himself in haste this morning. 

“I think I like Mr. Eddie better. What’s that make you then?” He jerks his chin up at you before biting into his own sandwich. 

A goofy smile takes over your face.

“Why, your gardener, of course.” 

Eddie feels his face heat up, but powers through it. Where the hell did you come from? It’s like someone made you just for him and planted you here for him to find. 

“So?” You ask expectantly.

“What?” He blinks still caught up in the idea of you and him.

“Where are you from?” You chuckle.

“Oh- Hawkins.”

“I go to the movies there sometimes!”

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles.

“Okay, well, in all honesty, I go once a week,” you admit shyly, “Friday is my movie day.”

Eddie nods as he makes a mental note of that. Every Friday you're in Hawkins. 

“What about you?”

A blush rises to the tops of your cheeks.

“I’m living here in town right now.”

“Are you from here?” Eddie arches an eyebrow.

You stare right into his eyes for a moment. Your eyebrows set and your mouth tightens as if you're thinking hard. Eddie’s own eyes widen under your gaze. 

“No, I’m not.”

Eddie nods again, choosing not to push further. Clearly, there's something there you don't want to discuss. Far be it from him to make you. 

“I still can't believe you know Lord of the Rings,” he switches the conversation back to a topic he knows is safe.

A wide grin breaks out on your face. You start digging around your lower left drawer. One by one you drop well-loved copies of The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King on top of one another. After another moment of shuffling things around you pull out equally loved copies of The Hobbit and even The Silmarillion . 

“I think we’re gonna be great friends,” Eddie decides with a nod.

You laugh but agree. It does feel like the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

Lunch at your desk with Eddie silently becomes routine. The two of you share extensive notes on just about every little detail LOTR has to offer. There’s some arguing, but mostly a lot of agreeing and adding onto each other’s theories. It’s the highlight of both your days. It’s the only time Eddie sees you for a while. Nothing in your classroom has needed his attention. He finds himself quietly willing things to break just to have an excuse to be in your presence for a few more moments.

Eddie is pushing an AV cart of busted equipment back to the maintenance office. He takes the scenic route, the one that takes him by your classroom. As usual, your door is ajar so your voice carries to the end of the hall. You’re lecturing on the process of immigrating through Ellis Island. He watches as you weave a story with your entire body, much like he does when DM-ing. As rare as those times are beginning to feel. 

He peers in from the hall as you act out a family going through Ellis Island. Only their name and, therefore, identity is changed. The family then has to figure out how to survive in a new place and a new language they don't fully understand. Watching you is almost like watching a movie. Eddie becomes so lost in your storytelling that he misses the few students who catch him through the door. Smirks and notes go flying as rumors spread about the seniors’ favorite history teacher and the cute maintenance guy.

Eddie lets himself slip into a dreamy trance, leaning against the AV cart, and propping his face up on his hand. The thing about AV carts is they're on wheels. Wheels Eddie didn't lock because he’s supposed to be walking it back to the maintenance office. As he leans against it, the cart slowly starts rolling. By the time he realizes, eyes going wide, the world is already toppling over.

You’re over him in a blink. Eddie is sure his face is about to melt off with how hot it is. A few students snicker, which garners scolding from you.

“Are you alright, Mr. Eddie?” You ask with knit eyebrows.

“Yep- good- I’m good,” he says quickly, scrambling back to his feet.

You give a small amused smile as he dusts himself off. The sight of it causes a smile to grow involuntarily on Eddie’s lips.

“Okay,” you nod, “good.”

“I’ll- uh… see you at lunch?” The question feels incredibly stupid coming out. 

You smile like it isn't, though. It calms some of his nerves. 

“See you at lunch,” you confirm. 

Eddie gives you a two-finger salute as he continues his trek. You disappear back into your classroom. Eddie can hear your lecture continue. He listens for as long as your voice will travel to him. 

***

“Are you sure this isn't like super creepy?” Eddie asks for the tenth time.

The blue and red glow of the movie theater awning barely reaches the tips of his white shoes. He’s huddled by a phone booth, anxiously trying to talk Steve into telling him to go home. Eddie truly never imagined he would be chattering away to Steve Harrington for dating advice . He can thank Dustin for this strange newfound friendship.

“I don't know if I'd say super creepy, but it might be like a three out of ten on the creepy-dar,” Steve answers with a shrug in his voice.

“Nope, I’m going home. This was stupid. I’m stupid,” Eddie shakes his head to himself.

“Eddie, will you just shut up and go watch a movie? It’s perfectly normal for a guy to go see a movie and run into a coworker. Stop overthinking this and don’t forget to bring me popcorn after when you come over to spill allll the details.”

“Tell Robin I’m not coming over to spill anything. If the two of you old birds want gossip, you’ll have to come see the movie with me,” Eddie tells him.

He can hear Robin’s groan in the background and smiles a little. 

“Nice try, Munson. No buffers, go see your damn movie,” Steve orders firmly.

Before Eddie can try to procrastinate any further, Steve hangs up. Eddie slams the phone back on the hook and sighs. Okay, he can do this… right? Right ? He’s beginning to think he should go home and ask you to hang out the next time he sees you like a normal person. Is that what you do with real adult friends? Ask do you want to hang out sometime ? or is there some other secret adult social cue he missed out on during his time repeating senior year? He doesn't get very long to explore the possibilities before your voice breaks him from his thoughts.

“Mr. Eddie?” You call curiously from beneath the lit-up awning.

Warm light hugs you, making you almost glow from where he is in the shadows.

“Oh- uh- Hey,” he stutters with a weak wave. 

You smile wide at him, causing a relieved breath to escape his chest. You walk over to him, leaving the light to place yourself right by him. Even though your smile remains, your nose scrunches up.

“It’s weird seeing you outside of school,” you chuckle.

He mimics your facial expression.

“You too, kinda,” he agrees.

The two of you laugh lightly as you take each other in. You aren't in your usual clothes. It’s then Eddie realizes that he’s only ever seen you in your work clothes. Nice pants, cardigans, and clean sneakers aren't necessarily your daily go-to's. If Eddie had to guess based on right now, you seem extremely comfortable in a pair of worn-in jeans, beat-up black vans, and a black Purdue hoodie. 

“Actually, it's perfect that you're here. I got these shelves for my classroom, but I could use help putting them together. Are you busy tomorrow?” You give him a hopeful look that makes it impossible for him to deny you.

“Not at all. I can meet you at the school around ten if that works?” He offers easily.

“Ten is perfect!”

The two of you stand there smiling at each other like idiots. You shift awkwardly on your feet. Your eyes drift to the entrance of the theatre and then back to Eddie.

“Are you busy now? I wouldn't say no to some company,” you smile shyly. 

Eddie’s own smile grows soft.

“I’d be happy to provide you with some company,” he says with a dramatic effect to his voice.

He bends slightly at the hips and offers you his elbow. With a chuckle, you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way toward the building. He pauses before the ticket booth and looks at you.

“Wait, what are you seeing?”

***

Some annoyed glares get sent your way, but you don't care. You and Eddie exit the theatre leaning on each other as you laugh in harmony. The two of you watched some god-awful horror film. The kind you spent the entire time making fun of, which the other viewers didn't quite appreciate. 

“I’m really glad you decided to watch that with me,” you tell Eddie as you come to a halt on the sidewalk.

“So am I.”

Eddie stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jean vest. Your eyes drift over the various pins and patches in the low light of the building. At school, Eddie is always in a plain, usually sweaty, t-shirt and a pair of work pants. His casual clothes feel a lot more natural for him. It’s like taking a peek into the mind and life of Eddie Munson that you don't usually get.

“If only the kids got to see this side of Mr. Eddie. All metal and cool instead of falling over AV carts in the hallways,” you throw him a playful smile. 

His cheeks heat up at the memory.

“That really damaged my street cred, huh?” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

You shrug.

“Probably with everyone else, but I still think you’re pretty cool.”

A goofy smile crawls across Eddie’s face.

“Yeah?”

“I mean… maybe not as cool as me ,” you tease.

“Oh, no, I don't think I could ever be as cool as my gardener.”

A small giggle tumbles from your lips. Your eyes find the toes of your sneakers. They're tattered and nervously squishing a leaf into the sidewalk. 

“Would you be willing to make this a regular thing? I usually just come alone, but I liked it better with you,” your nose scrunches up anxiously as you ask.

Eddie’s heart flutters. You liked a part of your weekly routine better with Eddie around. So much so, you’d like to alter it so he could always be around for it. Sure, it's just a movie, but it feels like so much more. It feels like the promise of things starting to grow. 

“Yeah, that sounds fun.”

You beam at him.

“Great! We can figure out what to see next week during lunch one day. I’ll bring in the paper so we can look at the showtimes,” you say excitedly. 

Eddie nods enthusiastically. A moment passes where the two of you bask in the joy the other brings you. Your friendship is still new, but being in each other’s lives feels so normal . 

“I should go if I want to catch the last bus back,” you finally sigh.

“Let me drive you.”

You blink at Eddie for a second.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, just let me know where you live. My van’s right over there- that sounds really creepy, I’m hearing it now,” he nods at your amused expression.

“Lead the way to your chariot, Mr. Eddie,” you smile.

Eddie’s heart thumps. He’s so very sure at that moment that you’re made for him. He's sure someone dug around in his dreams and pulled you out. Jesus Christ, he’s terrified he’ll wake up and you won't have ever existed in the first place. 

His movements are frantic as he cleans up the front seat. A couple of fast food wrappers were scattered on the seat, but are now occupying the back instead. Eddie gives a sheepish smile as he gestures for you to get in. You do so with a reassuring squeeze of his upper arm. It’s such a small gesture, but it does everything to rid Eddie of his anxiety. At least about you seeing him as a slob.

“Are you taking the bus tomorrow?” he asks as he pulls away from the curb.

“No, the route to the school doesn't run on weekends. It should be nice, though. I’ll probably just walk,” you shrug. 

“Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head dramatically, “I’ll pick you up.”

“I walk all the time,” you chuckle.

“Not anymore. No gardener of mine is braving the elements when my chariot awaits.”

Heat rises to your face as you fight down a smile. The goal isn't to not smile, but to not smile so damn hard. You feel like you do nothing but smile like an idiot around Eddie. It’s so hard not to.

“You’re…,” you start, but struggle to find the right words.

Eddie stops the van at a red light.

“Amazing? Ingenious? Devilishly Handsome?” he leans in toward you with a wide smile. 

You can't help but chuckle.

“I was thinking incredibly kind , but I guess those work too,” you tease.

The red light washes Eddie’s face with color, but you swear you see the red deepen. He offers you a strangely bashful smile.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugs. 

The light turns and you’re moving again.

“I don't just mean tonight. It’s like you always happen to be there. Even when I don't realize I want you there,” you tell him while playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I went to the movies just to run into you,” he blurts the confession out.

There’s a beat of silence that Eddie swears is about to swallow him whole. His grip on the steering wheel goes white knuckle. 

“You can just call me next time,” you tell him amused.

He glances over, needing to see what thoughts are crossing your features. You’re already smiling at him. 

“I don’t have your number.”

You grab an old receipt from the center console. Then you dig a pen out of the glove box. Without a word, you scribble down your phone number. You write your name above it with a smiley face then leave it in the frontmost cup holder. 

“Will you call me to let me know you made it home safe?” You ask.

Breathing is suddenly really fucking hard. Eddie nods in confirmation, not trusting his voice. It feels broken and he isn't even using it right now. He'd probably sound like a thirteen-year-old if he opens his mouth. All voice cracks, leaving no room for eloquence. The remainder of the drive is made in companionable silence. Far too soon, Eddie parks on the street in front of your little apartment building.

“Do you want to come up for coffee?” You ask, trying to shove down your nervousness.

“Coffee?” Eddie’s nose scrunches in disgust.

You laugh, causing Eddie to smile. 

“I don't know why I said that. I don't even have coffee. It just felt like the thing I was supposed to do,” you admit.

Eddie’s smile softens. Maybe you’re just as lost with this whole adult thing as he is.

“D’you ever feel like you're pretending to be an adult? Like you're just waiting for someone to realize you’re faking it and then you'll turn into three kids in a trenchcoat?” He asks thoughtfully.

“Only every minute of every day,” you answer without hesitation.

“You seem like you have it all figured out.”

“Thanks,” you breathe a laugh, “I spend a lot of time acting like I have it all figured out, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified all the time.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie offers you a lopsided smile.

You return it, your stomach coming alive with little sparks. There’s something so sweet about feeling understood.

“Do you want to come up for anything other than coffee?” You make a second attempt at inviting him in.

Eddie is tempted. Christ, it’s like there's a gun to his back. Still, he can't bring himself to agree. He can't yet step into a space that's unadulteratedly you. No distillation from the school environment, no holding back due to being in public, and no fear of ridicule. 

“I should get home before my uncle declares me a missing person,” he offers an apologetic smile.

Your own expression doesn't falter. Any disappointment is covered by understanding.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Expect me laying on the horn at nine fifty-five sharp .”

You grimace.

“Please don’t honk your horn before noon. My neighbors would kill me.”

“Guess you just gotta make sure you’re outside then,” he shrugs.

“Have a good night, Mr. Eddie,” you smile as you slide out of the van.

“Have a good night.”

You definitely make sure to be outside by nine fifty-five the next morning.

***

The sunlight seems to drip across any exposed skin Eddie has. His arms, a strip of his lower back as he bends, and the back of his neck beneath where his hair is being held up by a black scrunchie. You study the focused knit of his eyebrow as he screws the metal shelf together. It’s possible you could have done this on your own, but as you watch him you're glad you didn't. Watching Eddie exist is quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes.

“What’s the next lesson on?” Eddie asks without taking his attention off what he’s doing.

You’re sitting on top of your desk, legs crisscrossed, as Eddie takes up residence in your chair. 

“Well, next class we're finishing up the Ellis Island unit with essay presentations. After that comes the introduction to urbanization as a concept and a curse,” you tell him happily.

“A concept and a curse?” He laughs.

“Yeah, y’know, what it is, why it came about, and the ways it's weakening our communities.”

“I’ve never met a teacher like you,” Eddie shakes his head with a smile.

Blush burns across your cheeks. Your shoulders rise as you shrink into yourself.

“Is that a good thing?” 

He looks at you with those big brown eyes, wide and full of sincerity.

“Are you kidding? It’s the best! I wish I had a teacher like you in high school. Maybe then I would’a only done senior year once.”

“Well, personally, I’m glad I have you as a friend rather than a student.”

Eddie is ready to melt on the spot. He’s ready to become nothing but a whining little puddle on the linoleum. It would be incredibly nice to be able to kiss you right now, but Eddie shows more restraint than he thought he could muster.

“Probably for the best. I was terrible to have as a student,” he chuckles.

“Somehow, that doesn't completely surprise me.”

His hands fly to his chest and he falls back into the chair dramatically. Eddie’s head lolls to the side, tongue sticking out. You can't help the laugh that comes out. You don't miss the way his lips quirk up at the sound.

“You wound me,” he tells you, one eye open.

“Oh, I’m so sorry , Mr. Eddie. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” you lean toward him with big puppy dog eyes.

Both of his eyes open and he sits forward again with an amused smile. Eddie’s face comes so close you can smell the mint of his toothpaste.

“I think I can find forgiveness in my heart this one time.” 

“Thank you Eddie the Forgiving, Eddie the Kind Hearted- Oh , Eddie the Merciful!” your face brightens more with each name you come up with.

“ Eddie the Merciful sure beats Eddie the Freak ,” Eddie chuckles and goes back to his work.

“ Eddie the Freak ?” you ask curiously.

He stiffens, the screwdriver faltering in his hand. Sometimes it's easy to forget that his reputation begins and ends in Hawkins. Sometimes it's hard to remember you don't know about him.

“Uh- yeah, it’s just something assholes in high school called me… and pretty much the rest of Hawkins,” he explains sheepishly.

A frown plants firmly on your face.

“Sounds like a bunch of idiots who don't know what they’re talking about,” you decide.

Eddie glances at you with warm eyes. The corners of his mouth pull up just a bit, just enough for you to know you made him feel better.

When the shelf is complete you cheer and throw your arms around Eddie. He absorbs every molecule of you he can through his clothes. You silently do the same. It’s over too quickly, yet not quick enough for friends and coworkers. The shelf stands behind your desk, off to the side so as to not block the blackboard. You begin to load it full of books that have been cluttering your desk, both the surface and the drawers. Eddie moves to help you but stops when he sees your wide-eyed stare.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just… It’s just that I have a system, is all. It’s not time for those yet.”

Eddie nods, examining your suddenly anxious form.

“Tell me what comes next and I’ll hand it to you,” he says. 

You smile softly. The two of you work in perfect harmony. It’s an effortless task to work beside and with Eddie. 

***

“Is Mr. Eddie stopping by today?” Mara asks from the back of the class before you can get started for the period. 

“Not unless you plan on breaking something in the classroom,” you answer amused. 

“Well, he comes by just to listen to the lecture sometimes,” she shrugs.

Your face is on fire.

“He does?”

Some light chuckles rumble through the room. Your eyes scan your students. It feels like all of them are in on something you aren't. Which is a terrifying feeling when you’re dealing with a room full of teenagers. 

“Yeah, he stands by the door for a minute if he’s going by,” she tells you casually.

Another couple of chuckles let you know that this isn't a new topic of conversation for these kids. 

“If he does, I’m sure he’s just checking in on his colleague,” you say.

Jeffery, who sits near the middle, raises his hand. It causes his jacket to scrape against itself.

“Yes, Jeffery.”

“Is that s’pose to do that?” He points at the ceiling behind you. 

You turn your head with furrowed brows. 

“Oh- fuck ,” you curse hastily.

A chorus of ooooooooo ripples through the classroom. You’re too busy trying to push your bookshelf out of the way of the stream of water pouring from the ceiling. How did I not hear that? you question in your head. 

“Mara, I need you to call Mr. Eddie. Extension 1892,” you order as you continue your effort.

She rushes over to the phone to do what you said. It becomes clear fast that moving the entire shelf isn't an option. Your priority now is salvaging your books. Three, or four books at a time you rip from the topmost shelf. They make wet slapping noises as you toss them on your desk. 

Once the top shelf is cleared, the water begins slipping between the metal cracks of the framework. The water slows to a stop, but you don't stop removing the books. Each time you survey the damage your stomach twists. Eddie is rushing in a couple of minutes later, red in the face and out of breath. 

He sees the distraught on your shoulders as you face away from him. That’s when he sees the pile of soaked books on your desk. His own heart tears in two when he sees your Tolkien collection amongst the most damaged. 

“I turned off the water to the floor, so only use the bathroom downstairs. You should probably move class while I… deal with this,” he says gently.

Eddie sees your arms move to rub at your face before your turn to him. Your eyes are hollow, your face crestfallen, and your breathing is still a little erratic.

“Y’know what, kids,” Eddie claps his hands together and turns toward the class, “I think that pipe just bought you a free period in the library to study.”

None of them dare to groan. They can tell how upset you are. The kids in your classes respect and like you too much to feel anything other than sympathetic. There's the creaking of chairs, the shuffling of bags, and then steady footsteps exiting to the hall. You don't see any of it. Your eyes stare, but all you can register is a single thought. What am I going to do?

“Hey,” Eddie prompts softly once the room is emptied. 

He lightly tugs on your elbow when you don't respond. Your eyes focus on his worried expression.

“Hey.”

“It’ll be okay. There's a heat gun downstairs I can-”

“No,” you shake your head.

“No?” he asks, confused.

“It’s too late, Eddie. The pages will fall apart if we even try opening them right now. They’re… gone. They’re just gone.”

The lack of Mr. in front of his name lodges a pit in his stomach. 

“We can still try t-”

“Please, just, don't try to give me hope right now. Those books were all I came to Indiana with, literally. I need a moment to process this,” you tell him quietly, arms hugging yourself.

Eddie keeps his mouth shut. He lets you stand there staring forlornly at the ruined pile of the things you prized the most, and apparently the longest. He gets to work on the pipe. The ceiling tile is ruined. It crumbles once Eddie’s fingers touch it, causing more water to pour down. The pipe itself will need to be replaced, but he can patch it up with tape until that can get done. At least so the water can go back on. 

You expect him to leave when he’s done. Like he should. It almost startles you to hear him starting to clean behind you once he was done with the pipe. He’s mopping up the water with… the American flag.

“What are you doing ?” You screech, hands flying out to stop him.

“What, I didn't have anything else!” He protests, hands flying up in surrender. 

To Eddie’s utter shock, you start laughing.

“The flag can’t touch the floor and I really don't think it can be used to clean something up.”

He looks down at the soaked flag, then back up at you. He shrugs.

“It is right now.”

“I’m talking about the Flag Code,” you chuckle further, but the hollowness is still present in your eyes.

“The what ?”

“Alright, Mr. Eddie, I guess this is the first lesson you aren't auditing from my doorway,” you tease, “there are a set of rules on how the American flag should be handled, displayed, and treated.”

Heat tears across Eddie’s face.

“You’ve noticed that, huh?” He asks sheepishly.

“No, but my kids have. I think they like you.”

His eyebrows shoot up. High school kids liking Eddie? That’s a new one for him. You sigh a little and look back to the sopping mess on your desk. Slowly, you sit down on your chair. It’s as if your legs physically couldn't hold you up anymore. There is so much tied to those books for you and they're just gone. 

“In my defense, you really are a great teacher. You make everything feel more alive,” he smiles softly.

Your eyes move up to him. The faintest hint of a smile nudges at the corners of your lips. 

“Thanks. I think you and the kids are the only ones who think so.”

“Then we’re the only ones that matter,” he decides.

The smile nudging your lips grows.

“Yeah, I guess you are.” 

“Can I finish cleaning up the water or are you gonna call the army on me?”

“You're safe for now,” you breathe a laugh.

You listen to the sound of Eddie cleaning up the remnants of what just destroyed your life. Okay, you could possibly be being dramatic. It really does feel like you lost someone important, though. In a way, you have. Those books were all you had from before you ran. Before Maryland couldn't be your home any more thanks to a dangerous man and an even more dangerous system. 

“I should go to the library,” you sigh.

Eddie finishes soaking up the water. He rings the flag out the window and hangs it over the nearest chair to dry. You haven't moved an inch when he turns back around. When you register the movement in your peripheral, your eyes move to him.

“Would you… take care of this for me? I can’t…,” you trail off.

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

You nod, which is how you realize tears have started falling. They hit your forearms where they rest on your thighs. Eddie sees them drip off your chin. He’s around your desk in an instant. His arms pull you into him. You remain seated, head buried in Eddie’s shirt, and arms around his waist. He stands, arms around your shoulders, and gently delivers hushed it's okay's . 

“I got you,” he whispers reassuringly. 

Those words swell your heart until you think it may just explode. I got you. You don't doubt that for a second. Eddie has got you. He has you in his arms. You have him in your heart. As he squeezes you into him further, you understand just how much you’ve grown to like Eddie. In some ways, he feels like another aspect of you. In others, he feels so otherworldly that you can't help but want to know more, and explore every unknown he has to offer. 

Seeing you like this tightens Eddie’s chest until he’s sure he’s going to stop breathing. He doesn't know why the books are so important, but he understands it. He understands the way he would feel if he had to helplessly watch his guitar be destroyed. He understands leaving what you know behind with nothing but a few possessions and the hope of something better on the horizon. That's how he arrived on Wayne’s doorstep all those years ago. He just wished there was more he could do to help. He wished he could provide to you what Wayne was able to provide to him. Stability, comfort, and the most real version of love he’s ever experienced.

“Thanks, Mr. Eddie,” you whisper as you pull back.

He watches you stand and collect yourself. With a deep breath, you fix your face into a calm smile and nod. Eddie observes the way you put up the facade, the part you need to play in order to do your job. He isn't sure he’d be able to do the same. He’s sure you’re the bravest person he knows for that. You walk out of the room.

“Anything for my gardener.”

It takes Eddie the rest of the day to fix everything up. He makes an attempt to save your books with his heat gun, but you were right. The moment he tries to gently peel open the books his fingers go through the softened paperback covers. The pages themselves are already adhering to each other. It gives his stomach a sick twist, but he ends up throwing them out. Some of the books on the second shelf were salvageable. The ones lower than that were safe thanks to the others taking the brunt of the damage. 

As he looks down at The Return of the King in the bin, he makes a decision. If four halflings who do nothing but smoke weed and eat can save all of Middle Earth, then he can fix this. It won't be the same. The books themselves won't be the same ones physically, but he hopes he can at least ease the pain of losing them. There’s just one problem. There is only one person he knows of that could possibly help him get what he needs. Reefer Rick.

***

“Ah, Munson, you're funny , man,” Reefer Rick drawls. 

He’s sitting on a park table, where he agreed to meet Eddie. Eddie is sitting on the actual bench part of the table, back pressed into the hard edge of the table. 

“I’m not joking. Can you help me out or not?” Eddie questions shortly. 

Rick blinks at him in surprise. He leans onto his knee, leaning in toward Eddie. 

“You want first edition Tolkiens? Do you have any idea what that’ll cost you?”

“A few hundred dollars?”

“Try about a month’s rent just for Fellowship ,” Rick scoffs at Eddie’s ignorance.

Eddie runs a hand down his face. The metal of his rings leaves a trail of biting cold on his skin. He has a decent amount of savings from when he was still dealing and the new steadier income that’s been adding to it. He knows he could swing it and still have money left over. Unless the van needs work, which it almost always does. Or the trailer needs work, which it almost always does. 

“Can you get them or not?” 

Rick leans back and strokes his chin thoughtfully. God, this guy’s a prick. He’s only become more insufferable now that Eddie isn't competition anymore. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sighs exasperatedly.

He pushes himself up from where he was seated. Before he can get more than a few steps, Rick speaks up.

“So, who's sucking your dick?”

Eddie snaps around and stares down Rick. Rick just sits there with a smug grin.

“What?”

“Someone’s gotta be giving you some real good head for you to go through all this,” Rick shrugs. 

“Yeah, your mom.”

“Fuck you, Munson.”

“Fuck you, Rick. Just get me the books.”

With that, Eddie stalks off to where his van is parked in the gravel lot. Bills should be on his mind when he buckles in, but they're not. He’s not even concerned with the amount of money this will cost him really. He’s only concerned with seeing you smile brightly again. 

Eddie pulls up to your apartment not much later. He announces his arrival with three short honks. It’s Friday, or as he calls it: his favorite day of the week. You’re outside a few moments later jogging up to his van. His eyes are trained on your hoodie as you hop in.

“Is that a Hawkins hoodie?” He asks, pointing to the green letters on your gray hoodie.

You look down at them too.

“Oh, yeah, I got this from the store down the street from the movie theater. It gets really cold in there sometimes and I don't always think to bring something with me,” you explain.

Eddie reads HAWKINS in large green letters and indiana in smaller green letters below it. It feels strangely personal, seeing you in that. It isn't his hoodie, but it still feels like you're wearing part of him. He really fucking likes it.

“Alright, you ready?”

“Sure am.”

He takes off back to Hawkins. You update him on some of the drama you’ve overheard from the kids. How Mara has a crush on Chris, but Chris is dating Jenna. Then there’s the dispute between the notorious best friend duo of the school that are always seen together. He listens happily, asking questions and making comments. 

“What about you?” You ask.

He glances over at you. Your body is angled so you’re facing him as much as you can while buckled into the passenger seat. 

“What about me?”

“Anything new?”

He thinks for a moment. 

“Wayne got us a new microwave,” he says finally.

“What happened to your old one?”

“I kinda set it on fire,” he tells you sheepishly.

You burst out laughing.

“ How ?”

“In my defense, I was really high and-”

“You put a fork in there didn't you?”

“ No, ” he scoffs defensively, “it was a spoon. I left it in the bowl of mac and cheese I was heating up.”

Once again, you’re laughing. The sound makes Eddie smile. Laughter and smiles haven't been lacking in the few days since you lost your books. They just haven't quite been the same. Usually, you reach a radiance setting of ten. Lately, you’ve maxed out at a five.

A beat of comfortable silence passes as Hawkins begins to appear around you. 

“Would it be okay if I ask you something personal?” You inquire quietly.

Eddie’s eyes shift to you quickly. You're no longer facing him, but the windshield. Your head is leaning back on the headrest and your eyes are trained on the side view mirror.

“Yeah, shoot.”

“Why do you live with your uncle?”

A thick lump forms in Eddie’s throat. He swears you must have been able to hear the way he choked on your words. There’s a panicked moment where he considers lying, convincing himself you’ll never see past the story he has to tell. He swallows that panic with the lump in his throat. He pushes through.

“My mom skipped kinda early on. Guess she realized dad was a sleazy piece of shit around the third stolen car he sold. I think she thought I was a lost cause and left me behind. When I was twelve, dad got arrested. Last I knew he was still in there, but,” he shrugs. 

The time it takes you to process the story Eddie uses to torture himself. He’s so sure his family history has stained him like coffee on paper. He’s brittle, wrinkled, and discolored. Unusable, unlikeable, and impure. 

“My dad got out of prison my senior year of high school,” you tell him.

“What was he in for- uh- if you don't mind me asking.”

“Manslaughter. He went in when I was a toddler so I didn't even remember him when he came back. I grew up with my grandmother while he was away,” you explain softly.

A sick relief cracks open Eddie’s chest and relieves the pressure there. Maybe he is stained, but you are too. Perhaps between the two of you, there's still some paper left that can be used, some bits untouched by the warping of your similar pasts. 

“Shit… That’s heavy,” he breathes, feeling dumb once it comes out.

You chuckle.

“Guess it is. Yours isn't exactly light either, though,” you point out.

He nods thoughtfully.

“We both got some heavy shit.”

“Mine… mine might get heavier than what I’ve said,” you admit.

You don't know why you do it. All this time you’ve kept it tucked away, hidden from where anyone could dig it up. Yet, in Eddie’s van, driving through Hawkins, surrounded by a gentle understanding conversation, you don't want to hide anymore. Eddie has done nothing but see past the bullshit. He’s done nothing but look past whatever is around to see you . After he took care of you in your classroom, after he held you the way he did, you’re ready for him to really see you. 

“It’d probably be rude to ask, huh?” Eddie attempts to lighten the mood a touch.

“Probably, but I’m willing to answer.”

“Alright… How does it get heavier?”

“My dad killed my mom in a car accident. He was drinking. When he got out of prison he showed up at my graduation. I totally freaked in front of everyone . I ran away, I ran home, but he followed me. He wouldn't stop following me for weeks . I called the police, tried to get him for stalking, but that didn't work. Then my grandmother died and a few weeks after that it was time for school.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. He parks the van on the street of the movie theater, but neither of you moves to get out. Instead, Eddie looks fully at you. His eyebrows knit in concern.

“Wait- if the cops didn't arrest him for stalking you what happened to him?”

“He kept showing up randomly. At my house, at the store, the mall, anywhere. I kept running away. I wish I could say I even wanted to believe he was different, but I could tell he was still drinking. So, I left a week before school started. I only took the books my grandma got me as a kid. I didn't have much else worth taking.”

“I’m sorry,” he says mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

He does mean it, though. He’s sorry you had to go through any of that. He’s sorry you went through it alone. He’s sorry you had to leave home and never look back.

“Kind of a bummer conversation to have before watching a movie, huh?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, kinda,” he chuckles back.

“If you don't want to anymore, it’s okay.”

“Do you still want to?”

You shrug noncommittally. Your eyes are trained on where you're picking at the skin around your fingers.

“I don't care what we do. I just want to hang out with you,” he admits.

Your eyes shoot up to him, wide as can be. Your eyebrows are raised curiously.

“Are you sure?”

“You kidding? I don't care about the movies. I do this to spend time with you,” he throws you a lopsided smile.

You smile back.

“I-” whatever you're about to say is cut off by a rapping on the driver-side window that causes you both to jump.

Eddie snaps his head around to see Steve and Robin standing outside the van. Both of them smile and wave. You look at Eddie curiously. He curses under his breath as he cranks the window down.

“Munson! Fancy seeing you here on a Friday night,” Steve drawls with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He leans against the door where the window is open. One arm is supporting his body on the door while the other has his hand placed on his hip. 

“Harrington, Buckley, what are you doing here?” Eddie questions, attempting to tamp down any irateness. 

“We’re just on our way to see a movie and noticed you parked over here,” Steve shrugs casually.

“Is that the teacher you won't stop talking about?” Robin asks cheerily from where she stands just behind Steve’s shoulder.

Heat races up Eddie’s neck. He gives Robin a flared-nosed warning look.

“I believe I am. Well, I’m a teacher anyway. I don't know how many those Mr. Eddie hangs out with,” you say with a smile from your seat. 

“Just one, as far as I know. Isn’t that right, Mr. Eddie ?” Steve flashes a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie grumbles.

“So, what're you guys seeing?” Robin asks, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet.

“We were just leaving, actually,” you reply apologetically. 

Robin lightly hits Steve on the shoulder.

“I thought you said they usually come around six,” she pouts.

Steve glares at her over his shoulder.

“Rob, shut up,” he hisses.

Her face becomes an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry,” she whispers, but it's no use.

You’re all too close to each other to not be heard on a quiet Hawkins night.

“So, are you going to actually introduce us?” You give Eddie an amused smirk.

He stammers as he introduces you to the two troublemakers, and them to you. You offer them a small wave in greeting.

“You’re really heading out?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Eddie says.

“Where are you going?”

“My place,” you answer knowing Eddie didn't have one.

Steve glances at you with a smirk and then turns his teasing gaze to Eddie.

“Really, now?” 

Eddie is tempted to throw the van in drive and speed off with Steve hanging onto the window.

“Goodnight, Harrington,” Eddie says shortly. 

“Hey,” Steve points a finger at Eddie with raised eyebrows, “don't do anything I wouldn't do, okay?”

Eddie flips him off, earning him a round of chuckles. He cranks the window up as fast as he can manage. Steve steps back when he feels the glass rise against his arm. You shout a goodbye before the window can close all the way. He pulls away, careful not to run over any feet. Even if he really really wants to. 

“Your friends seem nice,” you comment.

“We have different opinions about them right now,” he sighs. 

You let out a hearty laugh. 

“Do you really talk about me all the time?” You can't help but ask.

“If it’s weird, no. If it’s endearing, then totally,” he replies nervously.

“It’s definitely endearing,” you assure him.

“In that case, I talk about you even when I don’t mean to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the conversation could be on anything else and I still somehow end up talking about you. Shit, one time Steve was talking about basketball teams and I started going on about our argument over which Tolkien book is the best,” he chuckles anxiously.

You squeeze your hands together in your lap as you consider your next words. 

“I talk about you to my cat,” are the words you decide on.

A crooked smile breaks across his face.

“You have a cat?”

“Yeah, Cookie. She’s a calico. She’s also my best friend, as sad as that is.”

“High praise if you’re talking about me to your best friend.”

“It sure is.”

The van falls into a companionable silence. Both of you let it wrap around and comfort you. Words aren't always necessary. Sometimes it's just nice being in the same space.

***

Cookie is purring and rubbing against your legs the moment you're through the door. You chuckle and as you crouch to scratch behind her ear. When you move forward and begin taking off your sneakers, Eddie enters hesitantly. He’s afraid of breaking the seal. Afraid to disturb the symbiotic feeling relationship you've established.

Once he’s through the door, Cookie is purring and rubbing against his legs too. His muscles ease as he smiles down at the cute little calico. He bends down and scoops her up. She lays purring in one of his arms like a baby. Eddie scratches her belly, causing more purring to pour out of her. He looks at where you were removing your sneakers. Except now you’re standing upright staring at him with wide eyes.

“What?” he asks.

“She doesn't even let me pick her up,” you gape.

Eddie grows a smug smile.

“That right? I must be special. Am I special, Cookie?” He coos as he scratches under her chin.

You get closer to pet Cookie. Only, when you reach your hand out to pet her belly, she attaches herself to you. Her front arms wrap around your arm as her teeth gently nudge into your skin and her back paws kick at your hand. You give Eddie a deadpan look, at which he laughs. 

“Traitor,” you mumble with a smile.

You extract your arm from her. Eddie puts her back down. You’re expecting her to dart away. She usually takes up residence on the low vintage cabinet beneath the windows. Only she stays and continues purring against Eddie’s legs.

“Would you like anything to drink?” You offer.

“Sure, as long as it's not coffee,” he says with a teasing smile.

“I would never,” you scoff dramatically.

Eddie chuckles, causing you to smile. He’s sort of beautiful when he laughs. He’s sort of beautiful in general. You lead him down the short entrance hall. Your walls are warm-toned but relatively empty. Some prints of landscapes hang here and there, but not much else. 

The hall opens to the small open living space. Your old, but cushy couch faces the television. From your perspective walking in, you’re met with the arm of the couch as it faces left. Behind the couch is a small wooden table with two chairs. Then there's the small kitchen. Your fridge is less of a fridge and more of an icebox. It’s yellow with those big silver hinges and handles on the rounded door. 

The vinyl flooring is cool against Eddie’s socks. Citrus and honey twirl together in the air creating a sweet, but tangy scent. His eyes find another short hall branching off the living room with three more doors. One of them has to be your bedroom, the other the bathroom, but he’s unsure about the third. Two windows let in the street light on the far wall. The low cabinet beneath them has the handful of salvaged books piled on top of it.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you say insecurely as you make your way to the fridge. 

“It’s great,” Eddie assures you. 

“Water, milk, apple juice, or sprite,” you list off as you peer into your fridge.

“Apple juice, for sure.”

You laugh, but take out the apple juice. You dig a hard plastic cup from the nearby upper cabinet and proceed to fill it. Eddie accepts it with a smile when you offer it to him. 

“Make yourself at home,” you gesture to the couch. 

When Eddie sits he does so delicately. He sinks into the cushion a comfortable amount. Another sip of his drink and then he’s placing it on the wooden coffee table in front of him. You sit beside him. There’s enough distance to still claim friendship, but you’re close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s bodies. Cookie curls up between Eddie and the arm of the couch.

“I think you’re my best friend,” you tell him quietly.

He gives you a warm smile. His big brown eyes feel liquid and ready to draw you in like a siren’s song.

“I think you’re my best friend too.”

You return his smile with a soft one of your own.

“You might be Cookie’s best friend too now,” you chuckle looking at your cat who is purring gently.

“Nah, I’m just the shiny new plaything.”

“I promise, I’ve never seen her so attached to a person she’s just met. Usually, she just ignores visitors,” you shake your head.

“You get a lot of visitors, then?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow.

Your face becomes ablaze. He looks back to Cookie to scratch behind her ear.

“Not really, no. My friends from college are all out of state at this point. We talk on the phone and they’ve visited a few times, but not often. They’re all a lot busier than me,” you explain.

“Adult friendships kinda suck,” he nods.

“Not all of them.”

“No, not all of them," his eyes turn to you carrying a smile, “Since we’re best friends now, I guess we have to hang out more,” he sighs like it's a chore.

“Oh, darn,” you chuckle.

Eddie chuckles. His eyes trail ahead and stop on his cup. He watches a droplet of condensation dribble down the hard plastic surface. The only sound is Cookie’s continuous purring.

“What were you going to say before Steve and Robin harassed us?” He doesn't look away from the cup. 

“I haven't been interested in a single movie we’ve seen for at least a month. I've just been doing it to spend time with you too.”

You watch his features closely. His mouth tugs up creating the softest and most endeared smile you’ve seen him wear. Making him smile like that sets butterflies loose in your stomach. 

“I… really like you,” he admits softly.

Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth smirks in amused confusion.

“I really like you too. We’re best friends, remember?” You nudge his shoulder a bit.

His smile falters. Eddie’s rings dig into the skin of his other hand as he squeezes them together between his knees. He’s sure his stomach is on the ground and about to crawl away. Maybe you didn't feel the way he was beginning to convince himself you do. Maybe he’s completely misread everything. 

“Right, best friends. We’re a regular Sam and Frodo,” he gives a half-hearted smile. 

“I’d follow you into Mordor.”

Eddie’s smile grows goofier as he finally looks at you again.

“Yeah?”

“Without a doubt.”

“We just need our Merry and Pippin.”

“I think Steve and Robin might fit that bill,” you chuckle.

Eddie laughs a little too hard.

“Holy shit, that’s perfect ! You’re a genius!”

“I try my best,” you shrug.

You and Eddie spend a few hours talking and laughing about anything. He tells you stories about his friends, even the kids that sometimes make him think he’s going to lose his hair. You regale stories from your college days and the small group of friends you made there. As you talk, something feels different. 

The air around the two of you feels purer. It’s lighter, easier to move around in. You don't hesitate to share. Neither does Eddie. Eddie is so caught up in you, the rest of the world could be on fire and he wouldn't notice. For the first time since picking up his first cigarette, his lungs feel clean. Every breath is rejuvenating. You're enthralled by every aspect of Eddie. The way he talks, gestures, and laughs. The way his hair is as unruly as he is. 

It’s not until you hug him goodbye that it clicks. When it clicks you feel like an absolute idiot. Your palm connects with your forehead with a slap . Eddie was trying to tell you he likes you. He has feelings for you. How are you supposed to bring that up now? Oh, by the way, I know I’m stupid, but I finally get what you were saying. Me too. Yeah, no. 

You'll have to wait for your own opportunity to share. You’ll have to wait for the right time to tell him how you feel. And you feel so fucking much.

***

Eddie’s bank account is sore, but not down for the count. That’s the important part here. The van will have to keep making that weird rattling noise for another week, but he can live with that. 

The books are smooth when he runs his hands over them. He never thought he’d hold first editions in his own hands. He really never thought he would willingly give them away. Yet, here he is placing them in the old box for his combat boots. Once the top is back on the box he places it tenderly under his bed. He plans to give them to you on Saturday. The two of you have plans for Eddie to come over and show you Back to the Future. Apparently, it's blasphemy that you haven't seen it yet.

Until then, the books will stay safe next to his stash. Hopefully, they don't start to smell. Hopefully, if they do it just reminds you of him instead of a skunk. He smiles at the memories of the times you’ve poked fun at him smelling. Can’t you even try to cover it? you’ve laughed. Maybe I should call you Pepé Le Pew instead of Mr. Eddie , you’ve teased. It always makes him smile and not just because he’s high. You don't criticize or ostracize him for smoking pot. Hell, he’s definitely done worse stuff than weed, but when he stopped selling he calmed down. 

Graduating has put some things into perspective. Selling drugs to teenagers was just one of those things. Now, he only buys weed for himself. He doesn't stock up or distribute. He doesn't need to, he has a half-decent job. If he hadn't spent the money on those books he could’ve moved out on his own within a month. Wayne has talked to him a few times about moving out. Not that he was rushing Eddie, but he knew his nephew was getting his life together. He wanted to know what the next step for Eddie was. 

Eddie made the mistake of telling Wayne that he could probably move into a small apartment around December. Well, that just got pushed back. November’s end is drawing nearer and Wayne is getting more curious. Annoying is more aligned with how Eddie’s feeling about it, but Wayne means well. He always does.

“So, you find a place?” Wayne asks him over dinner. 

They’re on the couch with TV dinners. A gameshow Wayne likes to watch sometimes is on. Eddie sighs knowing he’s going to have to tell Wayne that the plan to move out is going to take a little longer. 

“About that… That might actually take a bit longer than I thought.”

“Why’s that?” 

Eddie clears his throat a little. It’s his attempt to make talking through his suddenly dry throat easier. It doesn't work.

“You know that friend I made at work?”

“Well, I know of them. You haven't brought’em around here for me to meet’em,” there’s a hint of criticism in Wayne’s voice. 

“Right, well, some books that were really important to them got ruined. So, I bought them new ones,” Eddie explains vaguely, poking at the rubbery meat on his plastic tray.

“A few books set you back that much?” Wayne’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“They weren't just any books.”

“What were they?”

Eddie sighs knowing Wayne won't let him use vagueness to get out of this one.

“They're a five-piece set of first-edition Tolkien books. Y’know, Lord of the Rings .”

Wayne lets out a low whistle.

“You must have one good friend there,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I do.”

“You’re a good friend too, kid,” Wayne tells him before taking a sip of the beer on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Eddie looks down to hide his blush. 

“Don’t feel like you need to rush to get out of here. This is your home as long as you want it to be,” Wayne says softly.

“I know, Uncle Wayne.”

“Don't be making a habit out of buying friends things that probably cost more than this trailer,” he adds with an amused tilt of his head

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“It’s a special circumstance.”

Wayne takes another sip of beer.

“I'd like to meet this special circumstance sometime,” he smiles at Eddie. 

Eddie can't help smiling back. His uncle means well. Eddie knows Wayne just wants to be involved in his life. He isn't being nosy or prying. He’s just doing what he’s done since Eddie was a kid. He’s just being his dad. 

“You will soon, I promise.”

Wayne nods. The conversation dies there. It doesn't need to continue. They sit and watch the show. Wayne occasionally guesses the right answer. Eddie jokes he should go on and win them money. Wayne laughs as he tells him he’s seen this episode before. Eddie laughs too. He loves nights when Wayne is home. The trailer feels warm and alive. 

***

Eddie shows up during your planning period. No students are in sight, just you and your grade book. He says knock knock rather than actually knocking. You’re smiling before your eyes even make it to him.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hey,” he smiles, “I figured I’d come by and fix the closet door during your free period.”

“The closet door isn't broken,” you tell him amused.

“You said it was making a noise that was bothering you.”

You blink at him for a moment. That was something you mentioned two days ago. One of the hinges is loose and makes an obnoxious squeaking whenever you have to open the door. 

“That doesn't mean it's broken ,” you chuckle.

He shrugs and makes his way to the closet door. It's in the corner adjacent to where you sit at your desk. 

“Bottom hinge,” you tell him as he sets his toolbox down. 

He sits crisscrossed on the linoleum beside the hinge in question. You observe his hands as they inspect the metal. His fingers deftly test out where it's loosest and he leans in closer to see why. He catches you staring when he turns to get the screwdriver from his toolbox

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

Your face goes red.

“Shut it,” you grumble and go back to your grade book. 

You work in tandem silently for a few minutes. There comes a point where you think that's how the entire time will go. You should know better with Eddie around, though.

“My uncle wants to meet you,” he tells you suddenly.

You look at him mildly surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah, figures I talk about you enough. He should probably know what you look like,” he chuckles. 

“I’d love to meet him. I can make dinner for us next week.”

“That'd be metal.”

“What kind of food does he like? Oh- and what drinks should I get? I want to make a good impression.”

Eddie turns to you with a feather-soft smile and siren-call eyes.

“He’s gonna love you,” Eddie assures you.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I- uh- I- erm- Because you're my best friend,” he flounders.

The unspoken Because I love you hangs heavy in the air. Both of you can feel it there. Neither of you is brave enough to acknowledge it though. You offer him a small smile.

“I still want to make something he likes,” you move on with the conversation.

You're both hesitant to move on. One foot in the conversation and one foot out. 

“Pork chops and beer.”

“Pork chops and beer it is.”

***

You got some things in preparation for Eddie’s visit. Popcorn has been freshly popped, two cups of coke have been poured, and blankets have been draped over the back of the couch. You’ve always enjoyed wrapping up in a blanket when watching movies at home. There are two that you brought out. One is a soft yellow throw blanket. The second is a hand-knit one your friend made for you one Christmas. Both are warm and cozy.

The knock on the door has your heart racing. Today is the day. Today you’re going to tell Eddie how you feel. It might not happen until after the movie. Once you’ve had time to sike yourself up, you’ll look him in the eye, and tell him you like him. You really like him. You something close to love him. 

“Hey!” You greet with a smile as you open the door.

Unsurprisingly, Cookie is already at his shins purring. You roll your eyes at her as Eddie shuts the door behind him. He wears a nervous smile. A large shoe box rests in his hands. 

“What’s that?” You ask curiously.

“Nothing- it’s just a gift. For you.”

He holds it out jauntily. You take it. It’s heavier than you’re expecting. You cock an eyebrow at him, but he just nods to the box. Eddie wants you to just open it right there, but you don't. You bring it into the living room. He takes in the setup as you sit and place the box on your lap. 

“Are you going to sit?” You give an amused smile.

Eddie nods and sits next to you. Once again, he’s far enough to claim friendship if need be. Yet, the heat of your body permeates his clothing. The anticipation has his heart thumping against his chest. What if you don't like them? What if you get mad and think he’s just trying to replace a material thing, not a symbol of something more? He just hopes this can still be that symbol and more. 

You gasp when you open it. Eddie’s breathing stops completely. The plain dark green binding is slightly textured under your fingers. There’s a golden embossed drawing of Smaug on the bottom corner of the cover. The spine has more golden embossment reading The Hobbit . Your mouth hangs open a bit as you flip it open to the publisher page. When you get to the piece of information you're looking for, you snap to look at Eddie.

“These are first editions,” you breathe. 

Eddie nods.

“Eddie… I-I can't accept these. They must have cost a fucking fortune. There’s no way I can-”

“I know they can't replace what the other ones meant to you, but… At least this way you still have a really kick-ass collection with some meaning,” he interrupts you softly. 

Your eyes begin to well up with tears. Eddie found and bought you first edition Tolkien books. This is likely the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you. Every atom is on fire causing you to sit there overwhelmed with emotion. If it wasn't love before, it definitely is now.

“Eddie…” you trail off as words fail you. 

He stares at you with those goddamn liquid eyes that threaten to drown you. The book is back in the box before you know it. You take hold of his face. His skin is softer than you imagined. With no resistance, you pull him in and crash your lips together. 

The kiss is rushed, and a little messy, but you swear fireworks are exploding in your stomach. Eddie is everywhere. He’s everything. There's nothing else while he’s on your lips. You pull back because you have to look at him. You have to finally spit the words out. His eyes are darker than ever, his lips plush, and his breathing a little erratic.

“ I love you ,” the two of you say in unison.

Laughter fills the air around you as you fall into each other. A loose embrace of tangled bodies on your couch. Eddie’s hand finds the back of your head. He places a gentle kiss on your temple. You smile into his neck. It’s so simple, but you can feel everything in that little kiss. 

“I can't believe you got me these books,” you breathe into his neck.

“Let’s leave these ones at home, though,” he chuckles.

“Definitely.”

***

Funnily enough, it seems like Wayne is just as nervous to meet you as you have been to meet him. Eddie has assured him he looks fine about ten times. He’s never seen Wayne like this before. 

“I don't want to embarrass you, is all,” Wayne explains in the van when Eddie finally asks.

Eddie spares a glance at Wayne as he drives. He’s a little dumbstruck that his uncle could think he’d ever be embarrassed by him. 

“That’s literally impossible, Uncle Wayne. You two are gonna get along great,” Eddie assures him.

“It’s just- It’s one thing to meet a friend of yours. It’s another to meet the person you’re dating,” Wayne blurts out.

“It’s the same thing. Just because we’re dating doesn't mean we aren't still best friends.”

“It’s a new experience, is all. A good one, but new. I’m happy for you, kid. I’m happy to see you happy.”

Eddie can only smile at his uncle. He's afraid any attempt to speak will be fruitless. Nothing but incoherent noise would come out. His uncle is so strange. One moment he’s gruff, the next he’s soft and even nervous. Eddie knows it’s because he doesn't want to fuck this up. He doesn't want to fuck up welcoming you to the Munson family. He doesn't want to fuck up Eddie’s potential future. He won't, though. Eddie knows he won't.

You open the door with a wide smile. The smell of well-seasoned pork chops wafts through the air. Cookie is purring against Eddie the moment he steps through the door, to the shock of no one. Except maybe Wayne. Eddie leans in and gives you a quick peck on the lips in hello. Your face flushes at the PDA in front of his uncle/father figure. 

Eddie introduces the two of you easily. You offer Wayne your hand. He takes it, giving you a firm shake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you tell him with a smile.

“Yeah, me too. Although, I’m still a little confused on whether you’re a teacher or a gardener,” he says.

You laugh.

“I teach U.S. History at Jenkinson High.”

“Very well, I might add,” Eddie interjects as he kicks off his shoes. 

Wayne follows his example. You shoot a playful glare at Eddie. He sticks his tongue out at you briefly, earning a chuckle from you. 

“I made pork chops and there’s some beer in the fridge. I… don't have enough chairs for all of us around the table, but we can just sit on the couch. If that's okay,” you stumble through your words embarrassed. 

Wayne actually looks a little relieved. 

“Couch is just fine,” he nods.

Eddie sits in the middle. Cookie is at his feet. Wayne’s eyes are trained on the golden embossed spines atop the low cabinet. You lean down and scratch Cookie behind her ear the way she likes. 

“Nice books,” Wayne comments with a knowing smile.

“Oh, thank you! Eddie actually got them for me. I had a set my grandmother got me as a kid, but they got waterlogged,” you explain happily.

Wayne’s eyes flicker to Eddie’s. Eddie knows Wayne isn't one to tell his adult nephew what to do with his money. Still, this explanation made things a lot more clear. There’s a softness behind his eyes when they meet Eddie’s.

“I still think you can sue the school for pain and suffering,” Eddie says.

“I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow,” you laugh. 

The night goes smoothly. As expected, you and Wayne get along extremely well. Eddie didn't have to facilitate a conversation between the two of you. You discussed different game shows you both watch, debated which hockey team was the best, and even complained together about some character death on a medical drama. Watching you two talk fills Eddie’s chest with pure light. 

Cookie is on Eddie’s lap before the end of the night. He runs his hand over her soft fur absentmindedly as he talks to you. Wayne watches with curious amusement.

“Never knew you were a cat person,” Wayne gestures to Cookie with his beer bottle.

Eddie looks at the purring ball of calico fur on his lap, then at his uncle. 

“It’s more like she's an Eddie person.”

“I think she likes him more than she likes me and I feed her,” you chuckle. 

“Let's me pick her up and everything,” he boasts.

“I still can't believe that. Last time I tried to pick her up I ended up with scratches on my hands.”

“It’s my natural charisma.”

“Sure, that's what it is.” 

Wayne watches the two of you go back and forth with a soft smile. He can tell his nephew is in good hands. What a comforting thought. 

***

Eddie looks around at the empty walls, cleared-off dresser, and barren floor. It’s strange seeing his room like this. Empty. It's a somewhat sobering sight. The rest of Eddie’s life is laid out in front of him, but he can't help looking at the road behind him for a moment longer. 

“It’s not gonna be the same without you,” Wayne’s voice comes from over Eddie’s shoulder.

He stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets. Eddie offers him a small smile.

“Not getting rid of me that easily. We’ll be over. We can do weekly dinners,” he suggests.

“Under one condition.”

“And what's that?”

“They cook.”

Eddie lets out a loose laugh.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Wayne pulls him into a tight hug. Eddie squeezes back just as tight. It’s truly not goodbye forever. It’s not even goodbye for that long. That doesn't make it any less of a goodbye, though. 

He walks Eddie out to his van. They hug one last time. Wayne places a warm hand on Eddie's shoulder. 

“I’m real proud of you, kid,” he tells him with absolute sincerity. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says weakly, his voice nearly failing him. 

The entire drive back Eddie wears a smile. He’s not just driving to your apartment. He’s driving home. A home where you are. He bounds up the stairs with the last of his stuff in a box in his arms. Opening the door takes an awkward sideways lean so he could take hold of the knob while still balancing the box in both arms. 

“Oh, honey, I’m home!” He calls out like a sitcom from the 50s.

Your laughter rings out from somewhere further in the apartment. Eddie kicks off his shoes around Cookie, careful not to hit her as she purrs against him. He puts the box on the couch for the time being. You’re in the hall, digging around the linen closet. 

“Welcome home,” you greet over your shoulder.

He comes up from behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Whatcha looking for?”

“I wanted to change the sheets, but I can't find the flat sheet that matches this fitted one.”

Eddie plants a kiss on your temple.

“Don’t,” he states simply.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t bother changing the sheets.”

“Why not?” You turn in his arms to look at him curiously.

He shrugs with a playful smile.

“We’ll just have to change’em later.”

You laugh and close the closet door. Eddie cups your jaw and brings you in for a kiss. It’s slow, loving, and fills you with a warmth you can feel in your toes. You could spend the rest of yourself trapped in a kiss like this.

Eddie thinks about how you told him you would follow him into Mordor. He knew even then he would follow you too, without a doubt. However, here he is instead. Instead, he’s happily followed you home to the Shire.

[erodasfishtacos]

Adjustments

When Y/N is getting tired of staying at home with the baby while Harry tours.

word count: 5k

contains: sexual content, language, a dash of angst

It was still early but Harry didn’t mind. When he was on tour he craved sleep like no other. To be in his bed, spooned around his love, and no alarm set.

However, the deep desire for sleep is just a faraway thought now because he’d rather be sleep deprived and wake up to his curly-haired baby any given day.

He looks to you. Mouth slightly open, face stress-free, and peaceful. Harry hated coming home from tour to see the bags of exhaustion under your eyes from taking care of the baby all by yourself.

He constantly had to swallow back guilt. He tried to do everything to make it up when he was home.

Harry didn’t find touring as exciting and fun as he use to. He sometimes counts down the tour dates until he’s home.

Sometime he can’t wait for the concert to wrap up so he can sneak in a quick FaceTime before you lot head off to bed.

Sasha was two, her birthday near days away, and Y/N had been running around like a mad-woman trying to make sure her party would be perfect.

Y\N sometimes held herself to the exceptions of other celebrities wives. Ballon arches, custom cookies, and beautiful decorations.

However, unlike other celebrities, you did this all yourself. No event planner, nobody except Anne and Gemma.

Harry wants you to sleep as much as possible and allow you the luxury he gets on tour. Sleeping in until noon sometimes in the empty, cold hotel room with nothing else to do.

He can hear Sasha babbling incessantly from her little bed. The little yellow railings preventing her from falling out or escaping.

Harry heaves himself off the bed, tugging on some sweatpants that had been thrown off hurriedly when you’d told him you’d been wet for him since he walked in the door last night.

“Hi, hi little love,” Harry murmurs as he opens the door to her bedroom. The yellow flowers hand-painted from the wall setting the theme for the room.

Sasha was a good baby and an ever better toddler. However, almost as a little teenager, she sure did have her mood swings. They weren’t quite out of the terrible twos stage yet.

She wanted her mom as she stood there.

“No, mummy,” Sasha whines, tugging on Harry’s cross necklace with force after he scooped her up.

“Hey, we don’t do that. Remember we treat people with kindness.”

After a promise of chocolate chips in her pancakes, she agrees to help Harry cook you breakfast. 

It was messy and his bare chest was covered in flour. Not quite sure how the little girl had gotten it into her curls but they were managing.

Harry loved watching Sasha play with the cooking utensil. Smacking whisk around, looking quizzically at a spatula. 

It made Harry want to buy her a little play kitchen. He was surprised they didn’t already have one. He thinks they might have on in their New York City apartment that they haven’t traveled to recently.

He makes a point while Sasha is chewing at the pancakes to search to find one. He finds a same-day pickup at a local toy store and orders it.

That’s one thing he loved about making so much money. He could spoil you and the baby, his family with everything and anything they want or need.

Y/N always struggled with accepting gifts from Harry but as they years went on and they got married and combined bank accounts. (well she brought a hefty three thousand to the marriage, he graciously gave her full-access to his money). 

A few weeks after your wedding, when you went to an ATM to get twenty pounds out for a cash-only restaurant and when the receipt said you two had six-hundred thousand and some change in just one of your CHECKING account - well you nearly almost fainted.

You had been worried about the three pound service fee before seeing that.

Harry could sometimes get ahead of himself. He’s had disposable money since he was sixteen. Y/N would sometimes hum, asking if he really needs a fifteen-thousand dollar wool Gucci coat.

Y/N would make it a point that she doesn’t want Sasha to grow to be materialistic and spoiled. So Harry was scolded every once in a while when he gave into Sasha’s puppy dog eyes.

Maybe not the best decision but he planned to set it up when you were out for lunch this afternoon with a friend. Hopefully, you wouldn’t notice? If he strategically put it in the playroom.

“Mmm, what’s all this?” You murmur, tying your silk robe at the front. Just enough cleavage showing that Harry feels a twitch in his joggers. Sue him, basically everything his wife did turned him on.

“Pancakes, mummy!” Sasha giggles, syrup coating her cheeks and fingers. “Kissy?” Her dad had taught her that.

“Yes baby,” you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to her soft curls, avoiding her sticky mess. 

“Kissy?” 

You look up to your pouting husband with identical absurdly wild curls from bed. 

“Spoiled, you lot,” you tell him before padding over to him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

Forever the horny teenager, his large hands finds your bum and pull you closer - deepening the kiss.

“Miss you s’much on tour, all I think about,” he whispers into your mouth. “Your tits, your cun-“

“Harry!” You laugh, smacking at his chest, “Can’t talk like that in front of the baby!”

“She didn’t hear,” he grumbles, giving your arse one last squeeze, “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” you agree back, ignoring the pinch of arousal. 

—-

Sasha was putting up a fight when she realized that you were leaving without her. Grabbing at your leg as you tugged on a Gucci sneaker.

“I’ll be back soon, Sash,” you assure her but to no avail.

Her cheeks ruddy red and splotched. Tears staining them as she wails dramatically at the top of her little lungs. 

“I don’t know if I should go,” You sigh as Harry wrestles her tiny body off of you so you don’t trip.

“No baby, you need a break. She can’t hold you hostage,” Harry laughs as Sasha wriggles a little in his arms.

“Call me if you need me to come home.”

“I’ll be fine, now go, have a mimosa for me,” Harry smiles down at his daughter who is staring at you like you’ve just killed her beloved pet.

You can’t help but giggle at the glare, “so scary, missy. I’ll see you soon, I love you.”

Sasha buries her nose into Harry’s neck. Her sobs more sad than angry at this point. Which makes your heartbreak a little.

—-

Sasha was getting impatient with her father. As he attempted to figure out how to screw on the oven door to the overcomplicated design.

She occasionally ran off with a piece he needed so it took much longer than he’d thought. But this thing was sophisticated, you pour water into a little tub and it runs through the faucet like a real sink.

Sasha gave her father a wide smile when he had finally told her it was all done. He helped fill the little shopping cart with plastic fruit and veggies.

She was babbling to herself happily, occasionally making sure her dad was still in the room with her.

Harry had grabbed his journal off the kitchen table and was scribbling down mismatched lyrics about how much love he was filled with.

His last two albums were nearly just songs about you. The next one was definitely going to include tracks about his baby.

When he hears the alarm sound and get shut off, he knows your home and he feels a little twinge of anxiety in his stomach.

Distraction? That should work right?

“Hi baby,” Harry greets, planting a kiss on your lips before squatting to untie your sneakers for you.

“Well hello there!” You look around surprised to not see your daughter toddling to you as well. “Is bug sleeping?”

Harry shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, “Um, no. Just playing in the playroom right now.”

“Was she good?” You asks, noticing he’s changed clothes. He loved to laze around in joggers if he could. “Did you go out?”

“Just for coffee,” he covers, technically - he did grab a coffee for himself at a drive-thru. “How was lunch?”

“Good, mimosas were shit so I only had one. Missed you guys too much. So glad your home,” you sigh into his chest, basking in his tight arms around you.

“Only 73 more concerts to go,” Harry replies.

He can feel your shoulders tense at his lame attempt of a joke. It wasn’t funny to you, not in the slightest. 

“Just 73, huh?” You shoot back, untangling yourself from his grip. “Just another eight months away from your wife and baby.”

“Love...” Harry begins, swallowing hard. He was just as emotional as you when it came to it. 

You shake your head, swiping at the stray tear, “Just forget it,” you huff before trekking off to see your daughter.

Harry is cautiously trailing behind you with a bowling ball of nerves in his belly. 

When you walk into the playroom and see the new kitchen set - you stand nearly frozen in the doorway.

“Mummy! Mumma look at what daddy got me!” She chirps, standing to come to you. You easily lift her up and accept the plastic apple she hands to you proudly. 

You feel a tightness in your throat, “it’s so nice, baby.”

“Nice,” she repeats, “come play, mumma.”

“I just got home, give me a few minutes and I’ll be back in,” you promise with a kiss before placing her back down.

She seems satisfied with your answer and scurries back to where she had placed her babydoll on the countertop - feeding it.

“Can we please talk in the kitchen?” You asks, trying your best to keep your voice level in front of your daughter.

Harry dejectedly nods and follows you into the kitchen, dragging his boot-clad feet a little. 

“Look, I know your mad, lovie. But I just got the idea and didn’t think too much about it. Know y’don’t want to spoil her but-“

“Do you not listen?” You ask harshly.

He looks at you dumbfounded. Unsure of the question. It sounded like it was a trick question.

“You’re unbelievable!” You whisper-shout so Sasha doesn’t hear.

Harry feels himself getting defensive, “You’re tha’ mad about a bloody toy?  I’m her father allowed to buy her things too!”

“No, Harry. It’s not about that. It seems like your so busy with your job that you just tune me out on our calls.”

Harry’s brow furrows. That wasn’t true in the slightest. It was the highlight of his day to hear your voice and how it went at home.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Harry snaps, his voice a little louder. 

“Go into the storage room off the side of the garage.”

He gives you a confused look but obliges, after trailing through your maze of a house. He reaches the large extra room.

When he opens the door, his heart sinks. He immediately knows why you’re so upset with him.

A beautiful, hand-painted kitchen set is sat with a large pink bow in the room. The hutch saying in cursive, “Sasha’s Kitchen.”

It was her favorite colors - blue and yellow- with painted images of all her favorite characters like Peppa Pig and Blue from Blue’s Clues.

He remembers how excited you were on the phone that night - when you revealed her third birthday present and how perfect the artist had made it.

Harry had been listening -truthfully- but he was also nearly asleep after two encores of Kiwi onstage and a meet and greet backstage.

He felt like shit now. Disappointed in himself for ruining this surprise he knows you were looking forward to giving her in a mere few days.

But the excitement of another kitchen set surely would be lackluster now. 

“Baby, m’so sorry,” Harry says quietly, with guilt bubbling in his throat. “I was listening. I just...I forgot.”

“Nothing we can do about it now it,” you bite out. Disappointed at the ruin surprised making you prickle with anger towards your forgetful husband.

Harry begins to apologize once again but you don’t let him, “I need to put her down for a nap.”

— 

You drift off as well in your bed- taking advantage of Sasha being asleep in the next room over.

Harry doesn’t quite know how to fix this situation. He’s much too embarrassed to call his mum or sister who would just give him another earful.

He felt like being on tour has been mucking everything up. He loved his job, most days. But days like today - he wishes to never see a recording studio or microphone again.

Harry’s pondering all this when he hears a cry from the baby’s room. 

Sasha is stood, bleary-eyes with a sad frown as her father enters. 

“Sweet pea, what’s the sad face for?” He hums as he tucks her into the curve of his slim hip. Bringing her down onto the main level so you aren’t awoken.

“Daddy, kitchen?” She sniffles, pointing towards her playroom.

He shakes his head. Deciding the least he can do is bathe her so you wouldn’t need to later. She still had remnants of fruit pouch in her cheeks.

“No, darling. S’bath time. Then you can play,” he boots her nose. Snatching some clean baby clothes from where they’re folded and waited to be put away on the coffee table.

“No no no,” she whimpers angrily, shaking her head and smacking her arm against her father’s tattooed chest.

“Sasha Anne, no hitting, absolutely not,” Harry uses his firm father’s voice that he didn’t have to pull out very often.

“No bath, daddy, no!” She wails with all the dramatics of an A-List actor. 

“Hey, mumma’s sleeping. We cannot yell,” her father hushes her as he trails into the bathroom.

“Mean daddy!” She exclaims as he wrestles her into the tub. Splashing the water and wriggling away everytime he tries to cup water over her head to rid her of the shampoo.

“I know, I know, so mean,” he acknowledges sympathetically. A headache arising in the front of his skull from his baby’s high pitch noises and shouts.

After another fight into clothes, she’s still not happy when she’s sat in front of her kitchen. She throws the plastic toys around and whining anytime Harry moves an inch.

He’s feeling a little overwhelmed if he’s honest. With his worry about your precious argument and the unusual tactics of your toddler - he was stressed out. 

“Binky,” Sasha looks expectantly at her father.

Oh, good idea. She loves that.

Harry can’t find any lying around like usual so he digs through the drawers around the living room until he finds one.

After cleaning it off, he hands it to her and she pops it in her mouth happily. Her attention now direction back towards her new toy.

He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t quite sure how you did this alone so much of the time.

—

 When you finally wake from a fitful nap, you hear noise from the playroom. You’re still extremely frustrated with your husband but it’s less intense. Until...

Until you walk in and Sasha turns around, smiling around a binky you surely thought you’d thrown away.

Sasha was getting too old for a pacifier - even though she was just using it when she was really upset or at night.

You’d been binky-free for three weeks. And all the crying and tears from your daughter where now meaningless.

“Where did she get that pacifier?” You grit out.

You had told him multiple times you were weaning her off of it.

“She was fussy. I gave it to her, tha’ alright?” He asks cluelessly.

“Harry! I’ve told you so so many times that I’d been weaning her off of it. She just stopped crying about it a week ago!”

“I told you about this - just like the kitchen. God, you get so goddamn wrapped up in your career that you forget important things like this!”

“Baby...” Harry whimpers, hands up in surrender. “I keep, I keep messing up. I’m - I don’t know where my mind is.”

“I’ll tell you were your mind is, Harry. In the countries your traveling to, the concerts your performing at. You promised me...you fucking promised when we started trying for a baby this stuff wouldn’t happen!!”

Harry’s face crumples, “yo-you’re my everything, lovie. You and bug. None of this means anything without you. I’ll quit music, never write another lyric or sing another note if that’s what you want from me.”

He meant that fully heartedly too.

When he wrote If I Could Fly and write the lyrics, “I’ll give up everything, just ask me to.”

The fans, the producers, you - don’t truly know how much he was being truthful in the lyrics.

“I would never ask you to do that. I want you to do what you love but I want you to follow through for your family!”

At your raised tons, Sasha begins to whine, looking with wide, concerned eyes.

“Mummy?”

With that, you scoop her up. “M’going to your mums. I’ll be back later.”

Harry watches anxiously as you pack Sasha’s bag. He feels useless as he hands your her fruit pouches and crackers from the pantry.

As you snatch the car keys from the entry tables, Harry asks in a near whisper, “What’s going on? I’m so lost.”

“I’m lost too. I jus-just can’t keep doing this. It’s too hard for you to be away from us like this. I feel like a single mom sometimes.”

With that, you’re out the door and on your way to your mother-in-laws. 

For the first time ever, Harry had a fleeting thought that you’re going to divorce him. He knows it’s not just about the toy and the pacifier.

He hasn’t been home enough. As much as he tries, the FaceTimes don’t make the distance and time apart any easier. 

You have all the responsibility of this little human and your heart twinges on days you’re missing you husband and you constantly at met with his little replica.

Harry feels like he’s going to have a panic attack. He’s only had a handful in his lifetime but this one was intense.

He grabs his phone and dials the number to his best friend. He really needed a shoulder to cry on right now.

“Hey mate! What’s good, big boy?” The Irish man belts into the phone only to be met with sniffles and tears.

“Niall, I don’t know what to do.”

—

Anne was expecting you. She had set up tea with little cake in the back garden. Sasha was excited to chase the cats around the greenery. Her cute jumpsuit sodden with dirt and grass stains in no time.

“I’m sick of being at home alone all the time with Sasha. I miss Harry too much, she misses him too much,” you croak, attempting to keep your tears at bay.

“I want Harry to continue his career and live his dream. Most people never get the chance he’s gotten. I-I just need him.”

“Oh honey,” she rubs my hand soothingly, “I can only imagine. I know I missed him fiercely to the point it was unbearable when he was sixteen. I still miss him too.”

“I...I’m going to sound like such a bad mother,” you take a deep breathe, “would I be a bad mum if Sash and I joined Harry on tour?”

“Do you think that’d make you a bad mum?” Anne asks softly, a small smile on her face.

“No, I don’t think. I’d be happier because I’d be with Harry and we could actually be a married couple 24/7. She would get to see her dad everyday.”

“I think you’ve found you answer,” Anne chuckles, pouring more hot water into your cups.

“It will be so stressful.”

“More stressful than it is now?” Anne replies.

“Nothing can be more stressful than right now.”

- -

The talk witdh Niall helped only a little bit but enough to not feel like he’s going to vomit every other minute.

He was worried you were going to come in here and ask him for a divorce because he couldn’t follow through on his promises as a husband and a father.

Harry was ready to do whatever it took to prevent that from happening. He’s not above groveling and begging for you to stay.

It is dark when you pull in, toting in a sleeping child in your arms that you pass off to Harry who’s waiting at the front door.

He tucks his baby into her bed, tugging the blankets over her, and staring down at her sweet, cherub face for a little longer than usual before heading into your master.

You’re sat on the corner of the bed, biting your lip, and playing with you flashy large diamond ring as a force of habit.

“Baby...” Harry rasps, not touching you but kneeling down in front of you. 

“I can’t do what we’re doing anymore,” you begin, completely unaware that Harry thinks you’re about to ask for a divorce.

“I don’t think you’re going to agree with what I have to say, but I think it’s the best,” you swallow harshly, hoping he doesn’t shoot down the proposition.

“Please, I’ll do anything, lovie. Don’t leave me, don’t divorce me. I’ll do anything’ you want, sweetheart. Please, I need you. I’m so inlove with you.”

Harry is full on sobbing by this point, hanging his head against your knees as he attempts to catch his breath but finding it hard.

“Harry!” You murmur in confusion “baby, look at me, please?”

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes, your face is soft but wrinkled in concern. 

“What are you talking about? Divorce?” You choke out the words. Never in a million years would you willingly agree to part from your husband.

“I know I’ve been fuckin’ up. I can’t bloody figure out how to balance shit. I’ve not followed through and neglected you n’ the baby. I’m a bad husband and a bad dad.”

“Hey,” you said with force, bringing your hand under his chin so he has to keep eye contact. “Do not ever say something like that again. You are the best husband and father. You provide for us. You love us more than I’ve thought possible. You’re perfect for Sasha and I.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Harry chokes out, letting his ringed hands rest on the tops of your thighs. His diamond wedding rand flashing in the light.

“Oh, H. I’m sorry - I didn’t mean with you.” You chuckle lightly, “how could you ever possibly think I’d leave you, pet?”

He shakes his head, “it’s because y’too good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you hums, running a hand through his curls. “I know how to fix this.”

“How? I’ll do anything f’you,” Harry would agree to jump off The Empire State Building for you without a second thought.

“The baba and I are going to join you on tour. I know we agreed it’s be too much but I can’t imagine it can be any harder than this.”

Harry’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s if you’ll have us,” you whisper coyly, excited by his reaction.

“Yeah, baby. It means I get to fuck you every night,” Harry growls pushing you back and up into the bed before crawling on top of you.

“A teenage boy, I swear,” you giggle, flushed just thinking about how much more time you’ll have together. 

“S’it so bad I want t’fuck my wife? That I’m so bloody gone for you that I’d do anything f’you?” He presses against your lips before demanding entrance.

“You can have me in your bed every night,” you agree, letting his tongue twist with yours with fever and urgency. 

“Mmm, only groupie I’ll ever need.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, allowing him to slip your shirt over your head and attach his lips to your collarbone.

“Can’t wait to fuck you in every country - like we did when you toured with me before the bab.”

When he tosses your bra across the room, you gasp at his mouth finding your nipple instantly. Nipping and suckling at the sensitive nerves with intent.

His hand doesn’t waste anytime, skillfully unbuttoning your jeans and zip with one hand before cramming his large palm inside to cup you in his hand.

“Only pussy I want, fuckin’ made for me,” he groans at the warm wetness he feel through the thin underwear. The tips of his fingers stroke over your clit with confident movements.

“Stop teasing!” You whine, wriggling out of your jeans and panties in one go. Harry is still completely dressed above you - which shouldn’t be sexy but it is.

“Don’t know how I thought you’d ever leave me. Y’fucking obsessed with my cock,” he laughs - sure of himself now.

“If you don’t touch me, I swear-“

“I’ve got you lovie, best wife ever, y’know? Just wanna please you,” he promises the damp skin on your neck, landing nips and bites that will surely leave a mark. 

“Then please me,” you demand, your tone a higher pitch than usual for your arousal.

You’re rolling your hips upwards to meet his jean-clad center. The friction feels delicious against your sensitive nerves.

Harry takes hold of your hip with one hand to halt your grinding, his other hand finding your heat and without hesitation - slides two thick fingers into you.

“H, yeah,” y/n moans, rolling her hips down to meet his hand. Her arousal coating his knuckles and he can’t describe how sexy that is.

He curls his fingers towards the top of you tight wall, finding the little spongey spot that has you bucking your hips and whimpering.

“Oh, did I find the spot, love?” Harry teases like he doesn’t know. He’s been an expert in pleasuring you for the past eight years. 

“Yes baby, m’gonna come,” you nearly slur with pleasure. The cold metal of his rings brushing against your heated folds in relief.

“Only gonna let you come - if you promise me you’ll come again f’me.”

“I will, H. I wil-“

“Ssh, s’okay. Give it to me, my love,” Harry croons sweetly, leaning to suck a nipple as he speeds up his minstrations. 

Your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace, your hips meeting his curled fingers on every thrust as he pushes you over the edge, “fu-fuck,” you moan, trying your best to keep your voice down.

“Tha’s it. M’wife looks so fuckin’ gorgeous when she’s coming on my fingers. Need you on my cock,” Harry grunts, removing his fingers and working to get his clothes off as fast as possible.

He’s positioning himself at your entrance with intent, wasting no time pushing in. No matter how many times you took him - it was always a stretch but it was immensely pleasurable.

“Love you, love our family. Can’t wait f’you two to join me on tour,” Harry pants, attempting to keep his thrust slow and meaningful but he was so turned on he was already becoming sloppy.

“S’going to be so nice. Spend everyday with my husband,” you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and resting your feet on his bum. You can feel the muscle flexing from his thrusts.

“Yeah, never get tired of hearin’ that word.”

“Husband?” You giggle, “we’ve been married for five years.”

“Still can’t believe you agreed to,” Harry murmurs, his lips pressed against your temple as he becomes more determined. His thumb finding your clit and giving it hard, tight rubs.

Harry could have anyone he wanted. Millions of people lusted after him. It was hard to believe sometimes that he only wanted you. But in moments like this, you never questioned it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tell him, biting his full bottom lip.

He growls, “hush up. Let me fuck you, yeah?” 

With that, the only thing that leaves your mouth is whines and gasps as he hits your spot on every fluid thrust with a determined thumb on your nerves.

“Cl-close,” Y/N shutters, legs quivering with sensitivity and arousal.

“Baby, baby wait f’me, m’close,” he begs against your skin, licking and kissing wherever he can reach. He speeds up his movements and you fell him tensing up, his mouth dripping open in an o shape and his eyes squeezing shut - his telltale sign.

You allow yourself to let go at that point and ride out the waves of intense climax with him as he weakly thrust a few more times until he lays his weight on top of you.

“The bubby is going to love South America,” Harry smiles into your mouth. His large palms massaging at your shaky, wet thighs.

“I think she’s going to love being with her daddy more,” Y/N replies, a hand coming to cup his jaw in a slow, languid twist. 

—

Thanks so much for checking it out :) PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS!

[kechiwrites]

katsuki, izuku, and shouto as types of doting dads

🌿 gender neutral!reader

🌿 sfw drabbles, lots of domestic fluff under the cut, 

🌿  warning: bakugo swearing, of course

🌿 w.c: 1.2k (approx. 400 each) 

🌿 a/n: thank u to my angel @mindninjax​ for naming katsu’s tiktok. sorry about the formatting, tumblr hates me.

katsuki

Bakugo’s kids are not spoiled, fuck you for even insinuating it.

Bakugo’s kids get what they need.

And what they need is a four tier bento box, every school day.

Insulated, of course, because “they aren’t fucking animals.”

And what starts as Bakugo just being a very attentive father, grows into you recording him coming home from his early morning run and grumbling while he puts on the frilly, lemon yellow apron your kids got him for Christmas two years ago, which grows into him carefully arranging a camera setup over your kitchen countertops, “because you’re the shittiest director alive, dumbass.” Which leads to the tiktok account dine-amight, where Bakugo uploads his intermediate-level character bentos, full to bursting with perfectly seasoned rice balls shaped like All Might and Hello Kitty, star and moon shaped fruits and veggies and occasionally, when your kids beg for them, Bakugo’s famous rainbow mini pancakes.

And of course a pro-hero with a reputation like Bakugo doing anything domestic is worth coverage and acclaim, blowing the account’s followers into the hundreds of thousands in a week.

In fact, people are shocked that Bakugo can even find the time. But he’d do anything for your kids, do anything to see them bring home empty bentos, bragging about all the kids drooling over their lunches that day. Anything to watch their missing tooth smiles when he asks how they were.

And if that means a couple of extra grocery trips at the end of the week and really early morning runs and gentle kisses on your forehead while you mutter and shift in your sleep before he starts the rice cooker, then so be it.

“Katsuki, they are not going to eat caviar. They do not need caviar.” Honestly, you were less surprised he was dropping it in the cart and more surprised your local supermarket even carried it in the first place. 

“They’ll eat whatever the fuck I give them.” He bites, pushing the cart just shy of too fast through the aisle, head swivelling back and forth for god knows what else. An elderly woman casts your husband a dirty look as he just barely swings the metal buggy to avoid her, to which Katsuki helpfully spits “Keep it movin’, hag!” 

“They’re 10!” 

“Doesn’t mean they need to choke down dry ass chicken nuggets and grape juice all day.”

izuku

Birthday party dad, the absolute worst party dad. Thousands of dollars on his kids’ birthday parties. Princess parties, pirate parties, any theme your kids can gurgle about liking and Deku has pulled out his tablet and is putting a pinterest board together before you can remind him that the twins’ birthday was two months ago. 

“We can get an early start on next year. What’ll you think it’ll cost to turn the pool into an ice rink?”

          “My sanity.”

        “Don’t be dramatic.”

Gets almost ridiculously bitter when the family across the street throws an All Might themed party when he knows, he fucking knows, they overheard him talking about throwing one for the boys months ago, But he is not changing his plan. Naw naw naw, your kids are gonna get their All Might party, they’re getting the All Might Party. Every single attendee is getting a vintage, tin All Might lunchbox stuffed to bursting with All Might merch; toys, branded candy only released in Sweden, keychains, those little retro bubble charms, anything he can cram in there. The yellow, red and blue bouncy castle he rented rivals the size of your house. And then, because there is not a soul on the planet pettier than your husband, he forces every pro hero he’s ever known to get in costume and take photos with the kids. He makes the one with the twins your yearly christmas card, then hand delivers it to the family across the street.

In October.

You bake apology pies for weeks.

“You know this is ridiculous right? Deku, she’s 2” you stress the number, pinching the bridge of your nose. “She isn't going to remember any of this.”

“I'm not listening, I didn't hear that, I am busy putting little princesses on cupcakes, a task you said you would help me with.” He’s grinning when he turns to you, and when you hold out your hand, he places a piping bag full of baby pink frosting in your open palm. 

Together you hunch over the kitchen island to ice and decorate twenty-four strawberry vanilla cupcakes, nudging and snickering at each other’s lopsided princess figures until the two of you are smearing icing on skin and tossing edible glitter into hair.

shouto

You know those “girl dads”? That’s Shouto. He takes her everywhere, takes pictures of everything that little girl does. School plays, holidays, playdates, you name it and there’s a dedicated, timestamped album that Shouto is begging to show every visitor, mailman and coworker. 

He prints them out, and maintains an instagram account filled with his favourite daddy-daughter moments, updated. daily.

Nevermind that he hasn’t used his own personal account in 9 years.

His favourite thing is buying and wearing matching outfits, carrying her in one arm. “Yes, I know she can walk, she’s very talented, she can do anything. She just likes to be as tall as daddy is.”

Whenever he picks her up from school, your husband slides her sweet little coat on and gently secures her into her car seat, right where he can see her when he looks in the rearview mirror. Then, Shouto drives your daughter wherever she wants to go. 

Wherever.

If it’s the zoo, they’re going, and they’re coming back with a gigantic, stuffed red panda to add to her own (not so little) plushie zoo at home. If it’s Starbucks, she comes toddling through the front door holding a VENTI, frozen hot chocolate frappuccino (no coffee, of course) and a brownie. Shouto asks them to make it special, he would never let her handle anything too hot.

“Shouto, stop. You’re gonna rot her teeth, she can’t even finish that.” Which is totally true, the cup’s as big as your daughter’s head. Not that she seems to mind, the way she hefts it up for you to see from the entryway while Shouto undoes her glittery blue shoelaces.

“I’ll finish the rest.” He shrugs, picking her up and plopping her down on the living room couch next to you, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before shuffling off to hang up their identical winter coats.

He doesn’t even like chocolate.

“Why would she need a iPad?” You grab Shouto by his shoulders and make him look at you. 

“For…school.” His voice is quiet and subdued and you almost feel bad...before you remember your husband is clutching an $800 tablet he intends to give your 6 year old kid to his chest in the middle of an electronics store.

“Baby...she’s in elementary school…They aren’t even using calculators yet.” You try to pry the package out of his grip, steadfastly ignoring the gentle downturn of Shouto’s mouth at the development. 

“She’s very advanced for her age.” The frown is a full on pout by now and you shut it down as quick as you can. 

“No. Uh uh. Put that bottom lip back in. Then put the tablet back.”

It’s wrapped in shiny purple paper by December 19th.

🌿 join my taglist here 🌿

[chrisevansjellybeans]

I Love You, You Idiot | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here I am, once again writing in my favorite "we're best friends but we won't say we're in love" trope. Someone stop me.

A/N: This does not fall into the TFAWTS timeline!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angsty-ish

*not my gif*

The bass rumbled through your entire body as you tried to listen to whatever story Sam was telling to the group. You tried with everything in you to listen but the mixture of the loud music of the club and your best friend's hand just casually laying on your exposed thigh was making it very difficult. You noticed the group laugh so you let out a small chuckle but if anyone asked you would not be able to say what was so funny.

“You okay, doll?” You glanced up at Bucky, who’s blue eyes were squinted with concern. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the spot on your inner thigh where it was rested. “You look a little out of it. Do you need me to take you home?”

Say words, Y/N. You told yourself. But forming sentences was getting harder and harder with each circular pass the pad of his thumb made.

“Uh.”

Good job. Very articulate.

You didn’t want to be that person. The person who falls in love with her super hot best friend, but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to “ruin the friendship” and then ends up sad and alone because said best friend doesn’t realize the feelings and moves on to someone else. And yet here you were. Being that cliche.

“Guys, I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” You heard Bucky say. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in you shifted away from him so his hand was no longer on your leg.

“No, I’m fine.” You stood up, strong and steady. “See? I was just thinking about some work stuff. But I’m gonna go grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The group shook their head and you made your way to the bar, happy to be away for a couple minutes.

Your moment of solace lasted only a few seconds though because you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He trapped you in by placing his arms on either side of you, his chin landing on your shoulder.

“Wanna take shots?” Bucky’s voice rumbled in your ear. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that arose all over your skin. His breath smelled like a mix of spearmint and whiskey. A scent that if it came from any other man you would have probably been repulsed but on Bucky it was just comforting.

“Only if they’re tequila.” You turned around so you were face to face with him. Bucky gave you a cheeky smile as he waved the bartender over, ordering two shots each and then your regular drink order. As the bartender got your drinks ready, Bucky leaned down on his arms so he was even closer, your faces barely an inch apart.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Bucky smiled, pressing a slight kiss to your cheek.

“You’re mine too.” You whispered but you knew he heard you. Thank god for that super soldier hearing. Bucky stood back up and you could tell that he was on high alert, making sure that no one bumped into you or was making a beeline in the direction you guys were in.

You turned back around and placed your arms on the bar and leaned against it, your breasts pushing up slightly causing the guy next to you to take notice.

“Hey,” you glanced over as the guy next to you turned his body to fully face you. “You are the most beautiful woman at this bar.” You were amazed at how bold this guy was being. Bucky was still behind you, his arms still on either side of you. To anyone who didn’t know the two of you, it would be safe to assume that you were a couple.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” You smiled at him and leaned against Bucky’s arm a bit, to hopefully give that couple illusion even more.

Bucky was watching the interaction carefully, not yet ready to intervene but there if he needed to. You noticed his vibranium hand flex on the bar as the guy continued to flirt with you, that small action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?” The guy leaned in even closer to you, officially popping the imaginary bubble you had around you. That was enough for you and for Bucky.

“Alright buddy, ease up.” Bucky pushed a hand against the guy's chest, moving him away from you. “She’s with me.”

“Relax, big guy. Why don’t you let this little mama speak for herself.” The guy stood up from his chair, he was Bucky’s height but you, Bucky and the guy knew that if it came down to it Bucky would kick his ass.

“This little mama doesn’t want to go home with you.” You said sternly. As you finished speaking, the bartender placed the shots and the drinks in front you.

“Bitch.” The guy mumbled, shaking his head and making his way around Bucky.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. His eyes blazing as he glared down at the asshole. With each second that passed you could tell his hands were tightening around the guy’s shirt.

“I called your little slut girlfriend a bitch.” He spat out. “Maybe control your woman from flirting with other men at-”

Before he could finish, Bucky slammed his fist into his face. You let out a scream as the guy fell to the ground. Everyone’s eyes now focused on the three of you. Bucky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back up. You had to look away as blood started to pour out of his nose and down his face. It looked like Bucky was about to punch him again but you quickly put your hand on his arm. Bucky looked over at you, his chest heaving, his metal arm shifting under the stress of his grip.

“Bucky, please. It’s not worth it. Look.” You glanced at the crowd that started to form, phones out and recording.

You could see the headlines now: Winter Soldier Bar Brawl: Is he still unhinged?

You spotted Sam making his way over, his face full of concern. Turning back to Bucky you squeezed his bicep. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Buck.” Sam made it over to you. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky heaved as he pushed the guy away from him and then grabbed your hand. He quickly threw down a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait for the change as he pulled you through the crowd of recording phones and out of the club.

He quietly pulled you down the street until you guys ended up at least four blocks away from the club.

“I should have killed that guy.” He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Immediately he winced and pulled his flesh hand out. You hadn’t noticed before but his hand was definitely red and swelling. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” You sighed as you gently took his hand in yours, turning it over and inspecting any damage. It didn’t look fractured but it was definitely sprained and going to be sore for a while. “You could have broken your hand, you fucking idiot.”

“It will heal in a couple hours. And you’re welcome.” Bucky scowled in your direction. “Next time, I’ll just let him shit talk you all night.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. If you would have waited another twenty seconds we would have gotten our drinks and probably wouldn't have seen that man again.” You glared. “Instead you had to turn into a cave man and beat on your chest and prove your dominance.” You tried to sound tough but your voice was shaking given how cold you were. You had left your jacket back in the club.

“I wasn’t proving shit, Y/N.” Bucky snapped as he pulled his hand out of yours, sliding his leather jacket off and putting it around your shoulders in a huff. “Maybe it infuriates me to hear someone talk about you like that.”

“Well it’s not all cake and ice cream for me, but you don’t see me throwing god damn punches.” You sighed as you wrapped the jacket tighter around your body. “This is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Who gives a fuck.” Bucky muttered.

“You should!” You fumed. “It’s not a great look to have you out here punching random guys at bars, Bucky. Especially over nothing that important.”

“Stop talking like that. God, it’s like you are the only fucking person who doesn’t see how goddamn special and important you are.” Bucky hissed as his hand continued to throb. “So please just..stop talking.”

You snapped your mouth shut as you shot daggers at Bucky which he gladly returned. You turned away from him, calling a car to take you back to his place. You both waited in silence, Bucky only making the occasional foul exclamation whenever his hand hurt. Finally for what seemed hours the car finally pulled up. Bucky, always the gentleman even when angry, held the door open for you as you slid in closing it gently but not making any moves to get in the car. You looked up at him through the window confused but he only shook his head and tapped the car, signally for the driver to leave.

“Can you please wait.” You turned to the driver who let out an annoyed huff.

“Five minutes lady. It’s almost bar time.”

Quickly you opened the door not stepping completely outside, the air having an unforgiving bite to it now.

“Get in the fucking car, Bucky.”

“You go, you have a key. I just need some time.”

“You can take some time in your apartment. Just get in the car.” You retorted.

“I’m not getting in that car.”

“James, I swear to god.” You were fully out of the car now. You slammed the door shut causing the driver to cast an annoyed look your way. “What is your problem? We argue all the time, it’s not that serious.”

“It’s not about the argument,” he grumbled. “It’s about the fact that you are so completely oblivious to how fucking perfect you are and how it wasn’t just that guy that was staring at you but every other guy in that bar. And how angry it makes me that I just want to go up to every single of one of them and tell them to put their dicks away because you’re mine and only mine.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words.

“And I’m doing everything in power to not just shake you until you realize that I love you, and not just as my friend.”

“I-”

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Bucky shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Get in the car, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky turned and started walking down the street.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You yelled after him. “If you don’t think that I love you back, then you really are a bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He asked as he faced you again. He stayed where he was but you could see the tension start to leave his body.

“I said,” You smiled as you let out a long breath. “That I love you, you idiot.”

Before you knew it, Bucky was over to you and he had you scooped up in his arms. His mouth moved feverishly against yours, every emotion that the two of you had for each other pouring out in this one kiss. Your hands found their way up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low moan that sent vibrations through your whole body.

“Alright, lady, I’m leaving.” You both ignored the driver as he waved you off and pulled out and down the street. But you couldn’t care less because you were finally in the arms of your best friend.

“Say it again.” Bucky whispered against your lips.

“I love you, you idiot.”

[skyeet-the-writer]

The Love Among Us

Chapter 1-- I’d Never Snitch On Daddy

so i haven’t seen many corpse husband x reader stories on here, so i decided to upload one myself. i’ve been watching jacksepticeye’s among us videos and when i heard corpse talk for the first time, i was like, “hol up” and now i’ve been obsessed with him. also, go stream his music on spotify, it’s amazing. enjoy! x. 

 corpse husband x female!reader

summary: while playing among us, y/n watches corpse kill felix in o2. when his body is reported, however, she doesn’t tell who killed him. 

 word count: ~3.6k

warnings: swearing, mentions of death (not real death), mentions of murder (not real murder)

EDIT: before i wrote this and after i published it, i did not know that corpse did not like to be referred to as “daddy”. had i known this, i would have not even thought of posting this. and since i know now, i won’t refer to him as such in the future. thank you. (10/19/2020)

EDIT 2: this is the first part to my corpse x reader series. i will be adding chapters as we go!

next>

4 rounds before the incident

“I was in coms with PJ!” Sean exclaims. 

“He is doing the liar voice!” Felix shouts with a laugh. 

“I’m not,” Sean tries to say, but everyone talks over him and the voting time ends. Everyone left alive, though it was only four people, had all voted for him and he yells at them as he gets ejected. 

stinky was not the imposter

2 imposters remain

The round ends and everyone unmutes themselves. 

“Lizzie, you saw Felix kill me and you did nothing!” Roomie yells as soon as the round ends and the imposters are revealed. 

“Yeah, because I was the other imposter.”

“Oh. Okay, well that makes sense.”

Everyone laughs and Ken starts the round again. 

“Wait, can I invite y/n to play? She’s doing her twenty-four-hour stream and she just finished playing Monopoly with Mark, Bob, and Wade,” says Lizzie, looking down at her phone as they all appear back in the waiting room. 

“Yes,” Corpse blurts out and there are a few laughs and chuckles. 

“You were quick to answer, Corpse,” Sean teases. 

“Shut up,” Corpse mumbles and there are even more laughs. 

Lizzie smiles and taps into her phone. “I’m gonna invite her.”

~

“I can’t believe that you actually made that deal, y/n,” Wade is telling you after ending the second round of Monopoly that you’ve played with them. 

You smile and cross your legs on your chair. “Look, I was going bankrupt and it seemed good at the time. Besides, Mark was going to win anyway, he owned half of the board.” Your phone buzzes beside you on your desk and you pick it up. “Lizzie texted me.” There’s a sound effect that plays in your headset and you look up at your screen and smile. “Thanks to _lorieplays _for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot. Thank you so much.”

“Do you want to play another round?” Marks asks. 

You shake your head, reading the text from your friend in England. “No, I don’t want to lose to you again.” You laugh. “Nah, Lizzie wants me to play Among Us with her and a few others. It was fun playing with you guys.”

“It was even though you took all of my money,” Bob snaps. 

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah. See you guys later.”

“Bye,” says Mark.

“See y--” Wade begins but you cut him off when you disconnect from the call. 

“Oops.” You put a hand over your mouth and laugh. “Sorry, Wade. Okay.” You straighten up and glance over everything, making sure it’s all working properly. “I have to pee and I think my roommate ordered pizza, so we’ll be back after this short break. Enjoy this live feed of my pet rats.” You giggle and switch the stream over to a view of your two rats in their cage where you have a camera set up. You take your headset off and head out of your recording room. 

Every two months, you have a twenty-four-hour livestream where you play games with your friends from all around the world. Despite being only twenty-five, your Youtube channel had grown exponentially in the past three years and you’ve had the chance to meet lots of other Youtubers like Markiplier, PewDiePie, and your close friend, LDShadowLady. 

Currently, you’re on hour twenty of twenty-four and you’re beginning to feel the effects of not sleeping for a whole day. You had been drinking coffee and energy drinks for the past four hours and that seemed to perk you up for two hours max. But your roommate had ordered pizza and that would hopefully wake you up. 

After going to the bathroom and grabbing an entire box of pizza, you return to your recording room and sit down. You put your headset back on and eat a slice of pizza before switching the views back to you. “And we’re back. I hope you guys enjoyed my rats because I don’t. They keep me up at night.”

You read a comment while loading up Among Us and laugh. “No, they’re not dead. They’re sleeping. They do that a lot when they’re not fighting.” 

When you finally get into the game and entire the code, you spawn in. You also quickly join the Discord chat and wince when nearly ten voices hit you at once. 

“y/n!” exclaims Lizzie and the other voices die down for a moment before rising to greet you. 

You wince again but laugh. “Jesus, you guys are loud. Hey, Lizzie.” You move your character to the customize tab and go to try and switch your color. But then you frown and realize that you’re stuck with being dark blue. “Damn, I wanted to be white.”

“Do you want to switch?” Corpse asks. 

Your eyes widen you your stomach flips. You hadn’t noticed Corpse was in this game. Immediately, your chat became flooded with keyboard smashing and lots of “omg my shipp” and “y/n rlly said ‘anna oop-’” 

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind,” you manage to stutter out and take a bite of pizza as Corpse’s player comes over and the white option becomes available. You select it and also select the goggles in the hats menu. 

“How’s your stream going?” asks Sean. 

You shrug. “Pretty good. I’m super tired, though. I literally almost fell asleep while playing Monopoly with Mark, Wade, and Bob.”

“You went to college, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s Roomie. 

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod even though they can’t see you. “You’d think that those all-nighters writing papers and studying for finals would make me able to do this.”

There’s a laugh in the group and the round starts.

3 rounds before the incident

You scratch your eyebrow and sigh in relief when you’re the crewmate. You mute yourself and slide up in your chair. 

“I like being the crewmate,” you say, heading towards admin as a habit. “It’s a lot less stressful than being imposter.”

After doing your tasks in admin and fueling the engines, you stumble across a dead body in the lower engine and a vent closing. 

“Oh,” you say, and press the report button. You unmute yourself and begin with, “So I saw a vent close but I didn’t see who went in.”

“Who died?” asks Lizzie. 

“Felix,” says Sean. 

You smirk. “It’s always yellow that dies first.”

“Where was the body?” Ken asks. 

“Lower engine,” you reply. 

“I was in medbay with Corpse doing the scan so it wasn’t him,” PJ says and Corpse makes a noise of confirmation. 

This makes your cheeks heat up and you smack a hand over your mouth. Your chat explodes again but you decide to ignore it. 

“And I was doing wires in cafeteria,” Lizzie says. 

“Sean, where were you?” 

“I was in reactor doing the simon says thing,” he answers. 

You sigh. “I hate that one. What about you, Ken?”

“I was with Roomie in electrical doing the power thing. You know, the one where you have to divert it somewhere else.”

“So do we skip then?” asks Lizzie. 

“No one is super sus, so I’m going to skip,” you answer. 

When no one is ejected, you mute yourself again. “I dunno why, but Sean seems pretty sus. Because I didn’t see him on the way down from upper engine. But I guess he could have gotten there in time.” You shrug and run over to the trash chute in the cafeteria. “RIP to Felix, though.”

After doing the trash there, you head down to storage, running into Corpse doing the wires in there. You wait there to clear him and once you do, you run a few circles around him to get his attention and he follows you over to the trash in storage and watches you do that. After that, the two of you head over to electric together and do wires there. 

Suddenly, there’s a body reported and you unmute yourself. 

“Sean just killed Lizzie in front of me!” exclaims PJ. 

“PJ killed Lizzie,” Sean retorts, flipping the blame. “I watched it, he didn’t realize I was there and murdered her.”

“I watched PJ do the scan in medbay, he’s cleared,” Corpse says and you find yourself smiling for no reason. “Sean, you killed Lizzie.”

“I knew he was sus,” you say, grabbing another piece of pizza. You look at the box and your eyes widen. Had you really already eaten half of it?

“Wait wait, how am I sus?” Sean asks. 

You take a moment to swallow. “Because when I was doing fuel earlier, I was running down from upper engine and didn’t see you in reactor. Sure, maybe you could have gotten there earlier, but it was super weird.” 

The discussion time ends and PJ immediately goes to vote for Sean as well as you, Corpse, and everyone else still alive. Sean ends up getting ejected. 

stinky was an imposter 

1 imposter remains

“You’re such a detective, y/n,” Sean says when he gets ejected. 

You laugh. “I just play this game too much.” You then mute yourself and smile. “I am a genius.” 

You end up finishing your tasks quickly after that and then stand in the cafeteria and eat another piece of pizza and read some of the chat. 

“’ What am I going to do after this?’ I don’t know. I might play some Minecraft. Should I have a poll on Twitter? I’m stuck between public Among Us games, Minecraft, and taking random quizzes on Buzzfeed.” You smile and hear another sound effect and something pops up on the screen. “Thank you to coochie man for donating a hundred dollars, that means a lot.” You laugh at their name. “I love your name, by the way.” 

There’s some rattling in the cage behind you and you turn around to see one of your rats drinking water. You turn back to the chat and read another comment. “’ Do you have a crush on Corpse?’” You blush and smile, biting your lip. “I mean, his voice is hot. I’ve never met him since he lives in San Diego and I live in h/t, but yeah, I guess I do. I’ve been listening to his music for the past few days and it’s really good, you guys should go check it out.”

You look up and unmute yourself when a body is reported. “Who died?” you ask. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Are you already done with your tasks, y/n?” Corpse asks. 

God, even the way he says your name is making you blush. “Yeah, I get them done quick.”

“She does that,” says Lizzie, “She always gets her tasks done quick.”

“Ken is dead by the way,” says Roomie and your snort, smacking a hand over your mouth. “I found him in the hallway by navigation. Where was everyone else?”

“I was in cafeteria doing nothing,” you say, leaning back in your chair and spinning around just a little. “I think I saw PJ downloading while I was in there, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, I was downloading,” says Ken. 

After more discussion, Corpse points out that Jaiden had been following him and it looked like she had been faking tasks. 

“No I haven’t,” she says. 

“That sounds like something the imposter would say,” you hum with a smirk. “That’s pretty sus, Jaiden.”

Everyone else agrees and you all end up voting Jaiden out. 

jaiden was the imposter

0 imposters remain

You cheer as the round ends and a blue victory screen pops up for the crewmates. “Good game, guys,” you say and play again, waiting for the host. 

~

1 round before the incident 

“Oh my god, I’m imposter again?” you groan and sigh when you spawn back in. “I was just imposter, I don’t want to be it again. I’m so bad at it,”

After another short round of you and Felix losing to the crewmates, you all agreed to play two more rounds before Sean had to leave. So you move your character to admin where PJ is and fake the card swipe before moving over to the admin security thing where you could see who was around where. Luckily, no one appeared to be near admin, so you quickly kill PJ and escape through the vent and come out through medbay. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” you whisper over and over, running down to storage. “That was clean.” You fake getting fuel and go back up to the upper engine. 

When PJ’s body is reported, you see that your fellow imposter, Sean, had reported it. You stay silent for most of the round and only say that you were in the fuel area when it was reported. 

“Yeah, I saw her run past electrical earlier,” Corpse says. You blush and glance at your exploding chat and shake your head. 

After everyone skips the round, you mute yourself once more and head towards navigation. “I hate this.” You drag the last syllable and watch Lizzie enter the room. You wait a moment before walking towards her and killing her, jumping into one of the vents. You let out a sigh and flex your fingers. “I’m so stressed.” You exit out of the vent into shields and your heart stops when you see someone else in there but you realize that it’s the other imposter, Sean, and you relax. 

You run past him and go to the trash compartments and pretend to unload those. And that’s how the rest of the round goes. You kill someone, someone reports it and you vote someone off. Eventually, you and Sean do a double kill and end up winning the round.

You unmute yourself. 

“Let’s go!” Sean exclaims and you smile. 

“I can’t believe you killed me, y/n!” shouts Lizzie. “I thought we were friends.”

You laugh. “There are no friends in this game. I’m not loyal to anyone in this game. You could be my best friend and I would fucking murder you.”

“That’s cold,” says Roomie as everyone else spawns back in. 

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“Wait, PJ disconnected,” says Sean, and you all end up waiting for him to rejoin. 

In that time, you look at your chat and say, “Hey, do you guys have any questions for who I’m playing with. I’m asking you, chat.”

“I swear if someone asks about my hands, I’m leaving,” Corpse says and everyone laughs. 

You laugh louder when you read a comment and read it aloud, “_Ironlady _says that you should be a hand model, Corpse.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you hear Corpse say over everyone laughing. 

“No, stay!” you exclaim, trying not to laugh. “C’mon, don’t leave.”

He sighs deeply and your brain goes fuzzy. “Fine. I’ll stay for you.”

You beam and your tummy turns. You ignore the whistles and remarks from everyone else and stand beside Corpse. You suddenly wish that the little bean characters could hold hands. 

When PJ joins the server again, Ken starts the round and you cross your fingers, hoping to get crewmate. 

0 rounds before the incident

You mute yourself and sigh when you’re a crewmate. “Thank god.” You let out a breath and go over to admin with everyone else. You swipe your card and go to the cafeteria to do some wires there. 

The game turns out to be rather uneventful. A few people die and two people are voted off before the game gets truly interesting. And that happens when you walk in on Corpse and Felix. 

“I’ve had this song stuck in my head for days,” you’re saying, walking from electrical over to O2. “And I can’t get it out of my head. Maybe singing it will help.” You hum the first part. “Don't go in there, you'll become one. Freaky creatures, monster party. Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers, tails in tethers. Turn the lights off. Bend the nightmare, you control it. Artful dodger, easy does it. Shut the closet, get under the covers. Snakes and lovers. Turn the lights off.” You do a little dance for a moment and continue hum the song, glancing at the chat as you go towards O2 after doing wires in storage. 

“Like, I know the song, it’s just been stuck in my head,” you explain. “And it kind of annoys me--”

But you stop as you enter O2 and watch Corpse murder Felix. Neither one of you move and you don’t know what to do. “Uhhh.” 

Then, without thinking, you turn straight around and make your way away from the scene of the murder. “I didn’t see anything!” you shout to no one. “I suddenly can’t see who murdered Felix.” You smack a hand over your mouth and stand in the middle of a hallway. “Oh my god, what do I do? I don’t want to snitch on Corpse, he’s hot.” You scratch the back of your neck and shrug, continuing on to reactor. “I didn’t see anything.”

You’re in the middle of doing the simon says in reactor when Felix’s body is reported. You unmute yourself and fidget with the sleeve of your hoodie. You know exactly who killed Felix. 

“--was in O2,” says Jaiden and you focus back into the conversation. “And I didn’t see anyone around.”

“I saw you heading that way, y/n, but I know it wasn’t you because I saw you do the trash in storage.”

You look at the screen when Sean talks to you and you chew your lip. “I know who killed Felix.”

“Who?” asks almost everyone at the same time. 

You close your eyes and swallow. It’s just a game, why are you taking this so seriously? Suddenly, a song lyric pops into your head and your stomach flips. You imagine yourself saying it and no one knows who you mean except for him. 

You open your eyes. “I’d never snitch on daddy.”

There’s a laugh in the chat and you blush fiercely, your livestream chat blowing up once again.

“I think we know who it is, then,” says Sean, laughing. 

“Yeah,” agrees Lizzie and your eyes widen. 

“Wait, what?” you ask, watching everyone vote almost as soon as the discussion time ends. “Wait, hang on, who--”

“We know who you’re talking about, y/n,” PJ tells you. 

You vote for yourself and your brain goes blank as you see that everyone voted for Corpse. He even voted for himself. They knew. They all _knew _about your feelings for Corpse. 

The round ends with Corpse being voted out and the crewmates win. There’s some talking, but you stay on the victory screen. You’re trying to decide if your mad or embarrassed or both. 

“I didn’t know you’d say that, y/n,” Corpse says, effectively breaking you out of your trance. “I thought you were gonna snitch on me.”

“You heard her,” teases Lizzie and you can tell she’s grinning. “She’d never snitch on you, Corpse.”

He laughs and you feel something in a certain place. “Oh my god, I’m gonna die of embarrassment.” You put your face in your hands, listening to your friends tease you in the chat. You suddenly want to jump out your window and run into traffic. 

“Don’t die,” comes Corpse’s voice through the onslaught of teasing. “I’ll be sad.”

“Fuck!” you shout and slam your hand on your desk, shaking your equipment and scaring your rats. “I’m so sorry, Corpse, that was really weird, I--”

“Stop.” He interrupts you and the chat goes silent and you look up at the screen even though you can’t see him. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

Your eyes widen and then narrow. Funny? He thought what you said was funny? How could he think it was funny?

But then he speaks again and he sounds oddly flustered. “Uh, I gotta go. Um, it was fun playing with you guys. Bye, y/n.”

“Bye Cor--” but then he disconnects and you’re left talking to no one. “--pse.”

There’s a long moment of silence until Felix breaks it. “I can’t believe you just watched me die and didn’t do anything about it.”

There are some laughs and you smile faintly, rejoining the game. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Are you okay, y/n?” asks Lizzie. 

You blush and swallow. “I don’t know. God, I’m so weird.” You run a hand through your hair and adjust your headphones

“No, you’re not,” Roomie assures you. “He has a crush on you, too.”

Your eyes widen and you scoot up in your chair. “He does?”

“I mean, he called you pretty once during a game and said that he watches your videos a lot, so maybe.”

You groan and sink in your chair. “I’m gonna go, I need to run into traffic now.”

A few people laugh or chuckle and Lizzie asks you if you’re actually going to leave. 

“Yeah,” you tell her. “But not to run into traffic. I’m going to go play Minecraft to soothe myself.”

“Aw.” You can practically hear her frown. “Okay. Bye, y/n.”

“Good luck with your stream,” Ken tells you. 

You grin. “Okay, thanks, bye.”

When you exit the game and leave the chat, you scream. You actually scream and it’s loud. Your roommate even knocks on your door, asking if you’re okay. 

You look at them and nod. “Yeah, totally fine. Probably about to have a mental breakdown, but I’m fine.”

“Okay,” they say and lean on the doorframe. “But I’m not cutting bangs for you again.”

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, okay, fine.” They leave and you turn back to your stream, feeling like you’re about to cry. Corpse knows you have a crush on him. And it seems like he has one on you as well, but now you’re embarrassed because you called him ‘daddy’ on stream.

You rub your eyes. “Well, now I know what’ll be streaming on Twitter tonight,” you tell the chat. 

[harryspet]

please don’t bite | p.parker, s.rogers, b.barnes

[Warnings] peter parker x reader, dark!steve x reader, hints of dark!natasha/dark!bucky x reader, vampire!steve/bucky/natasha, vampire au, vampire blood addiction, withdrawals, kidnapping, dubcon, intoxicated sex, oral sex (female recieveing)

A/N: hello, it’s been forever! I was in the middle of writing this when @cherienymphe announced her  “Cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge” so I decided to join in! She’s one of my favorite dark writers so please check her out if you haven’t. 

In which addiction leads you into a den of vampires. 

taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan

main masterlist

word count: 3.7k

You piled all the dollar bills you had in your pocket on the table, “There. We can just use this.” You plopped down beside your boyfriend on the couch, fully feeling the headache you’ve had for the past two weeks. It was like your brain was pounding against your skull and sending painful waves through your body. 

“This is twenty bucks and a … grocery store coupon for … shampoo,” After counting it, Peter flicked the money back onto the coffee table, leaning back with you. You tossed your legs over his lap and he wrapped his arm behind you, “So we have fifty bucks between us … great.”

“That’s enough, right?” You asked, barely able to hear yourself think through your headache. 

“It’s like two-hundred just for a small vial,” A shiver ran through your body and Peter pulled you closer. Not only did the heat not work in the shoebox you two called an apartment, you were starting to get random chills and it was another rough winter in New York. 

“Fuck,” You cursed, “Fuck, fuck-”

Peter shushed you, “We’ll be okay,” Peter said, trying to be strong for the both of you though his body was punishing him even more than yours was, “I got a gig by the pier, and by the end of the week, we should have enough.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you clutched his chest, “That’s too long. We’ll die before then.”

“We’ll be okay,” Peter insisted though he didn’t quite believe himself. 

Vampire blood was one cruel mistress. It was hard to remember your lives before you took your first sips of the addictive potion. You both had everything going for you, highschool sweethearts that became successful college students but that was all gone now. You can’t hold a job or go to school when you’re on vampire blood. The highs last hours and, when you have enough of it, weeks can go by without you noticing. 

“What was it like? Drinking from the vein?” You asked him, the taste of the blood was faint on your lips as you tried to remember the exact taste. 

Peter’s head tilted back as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, “Like Heaven on earth. Like eternal life …. like nothing any normal human would ever feel. So good … jesus.”

Sometimes Peter wished he never introduced you to the taste but he’d forget all about it when you were high together. The sex was unbelievable, vampire blood being a strong aphrodisiac, and your love felt even stronger, “I want to try it,” You thought out loud, “If I’m gonna die soon, I-I wanna try it.”

“You’re not gonna die. Our brains are just totally miswired right now,” Peter groaned, turning his face towards yours. He kissed your forehead and, for a moment, it eased the pain. You tilted your head up to kiss the sides of his mouth. He tilted his head to the side and you kissed deeply. He pulled away suddenly and his eyes gazed into yours, “What would you do?”

“W-What?”

“What would you do to taste it from the vein?” You swallowed and your throat ached. 

You nodded your head, “Anything. Oh god, anything, Peter.”

You’d sensed he’d had an idea and a weak grin began to pull at your lips. That quickly fell as Peter pulled away from you. You expected him to be excited but he was completely solemn, “I have an idea,” He said, “You can say no … but if you don’t say no, you have to promise that things will be how they used to be afterwards.”

“How they used to be,” You couldn’t even think that far back. You couldn’t imagine a single date, single birthday card or New Year’s Eve kiss while you were in so much pain, “Sure, Pete. We just need a taste a-and that’ll clear our minds and things we’ll go back to how they used to be.”

+

As if things couldn’t get any worse, your stomach growled. You’d gotten dressed up, put on light makeup, and styled your hair for whoever Peter had taken you to meet. You didn’t quite care anymore because your headache continued to cripple you over the past few days. 

You pulled your jacket tighter as you waited on the steps of the gentrified brownstone. Peter pressed the doorbell nervously, watching as you shiver in your small, black dress. Peter dressed in his finest slacks and button down but was very aware that he probably wouldn’t be the center of attention tonight. He reached out to grab your hand which you happily took. 

“Why is he making us meet him so late?” You whispered, shivering. 

“He’s a vampire,” Peter shrugged, “They’re like nocturnal, I guess.”

Peter had reached out to ring the doorbell again when the door suddenly opened. A red headed woman opened the door, her hair cut short and a sultry smile on her face. You could tell instantly by the shine in her skin and darkness in her eyes that she was not like you. 

“Peter,” She greeted, smirking, “You look … hungry.”

“And cold,” He added, sensing your uncomfortableness as she took him in like he was her prey. 

“Right, come on in,” Peter led you inside the expensive home and out of the cold winter. You pressed yourself closer to him, not only because you were still shivering but because you’d never been alone with a vampire, “Steve will be here any moment.”

The woman led you down a corridor and you passed modern art sculptures and other expensive decorations you didn’t quite understand, “Steve?” You perked up at the mention of someone else. 

“That’s, uh, who we’re meeting,” Peter said quickly.

“Unfortunately, I’m booked tonight. A sweet young thing I met a few weeks ago. British accent, total dreamboat, but Steve will take great care of you two,” She led the two of you into a dining room where wine and horderves were laid out, gesturing for the two of you to take a seat, “Let me take your jackets.”

You looked at Peter and he nodded, “It’s okay,” Hesitantly, you slid off one of your sleeves and you felt her eyes begin to burn into the skin of your neck. Your arms weak, you lifted it out to her and she graciously accepted it. Peter did the same, taking a seat and waiting for you to do the same. Your eyes were still on the mysterious woman until Peter grabbed your hand. 

“I hope to see you both soon,” She smiled again, leaving the room, “Keep your eyes on this one, Pete.” 

You turned to him, your eyebrows raised, “How do you know her?”

“That’s her,” Peter said, grabbing the bottle of wine, “I told you about the first time I tried it from the vein. I think she has a thing for young guys. Or young anything.”

As he poured himself a glass, you reached out for a cracker and tried not to eat too fast as you pushed them into your mouth, “Why’d she look at me like that?” You asked, covering your mouth. 

“You’re a virgin,” You almost snorted, “I mean, your veins are. You’ve never been fed off of.”

“Oh,” You swallowed, taking his glass from him as you washed down your food, “I don’t wanna be. That’ll hurt, right?”

“Don’t worry, that’s not what we’re here for.”

Feeling some of your energy return, you stood up from the dining table, deciding to look closer at all the artifacts, “Y/N, what are you doing?” Peter asked, his fingers rubbing his temples, “Sit down, please.”

“Why do they have food if vampires don’t eat?” You asked out loud, annoying him further. There seemed to be a million framed pictures on the wall and you studied them as you passed along. They seemed to transform from black and white to fully in color, polaroid to digital. 

“For their human prey, probably.”

“Prey?” A deep voice spoke up, surrounding the room, bringing Peter out of his chair and your head turning quickly, “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Mr. Rogers,” Peter rushed out, and you wondered how he could muster up so much energy to be nice, “I didn’t mean …”

“No worries, I try to be polite but I am a blood sucking demon after all,” The blonde-bearded man smiled. He was so muscular, you’d pictured someone skinny and frail. “Won’t you introduce me to your …”

“Girlfriend,” Peter said a bit sadly. He wasn’t sad that you were his but that this was the saddest excuse for a date night, “This is Y/N.”

You raised a hand to wave but he crossed the room to take your hand. He kissed your knuckles, smiling charmingly as he looked into your eyes. Blue eyes, you weren’t expecting those either. Despite the porcelain skin he looked quite human. His suit was black, and his white shirt was pressed nicely beneath it, like he’d just returned from an important event. You smiled back weakly, “Pleasure to meet you, doll.”

“It’s … nice to meet you too.”

You felt Peter’s eyes on you as your hand fell back down to your side, “You two look like you’ve seen better days,” You moved closer to Peter because, despite his kind smile, you didn’t fully trust him. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Is it that obvious?” The nice clothes couldn’t hide the fact that they hadn’t had any vampire blood in almost three weeks. It was amazing that they were still standing. 

“I think I can help you both out,” Steve assured you two, “If you had enough of the horderves, you can follow me upstairs.” He turned and Peter grabbed your hand as you all left the room. 

“What exactly do we have to do … you know, for the blood?” Looking up at Peter, you worried that he was nervous for reasons that he was not telling you. Steve led you to the stairs and, as you climbed, you couldn’t help but look at all the photos that lined each wall. The upstairs wasn’t lit, making it feel like you were stepping into a story with a not-so-happy ending. 

“Peter didn’t tell you?” Steve asked, not bothering to turn around. He led you down the hall to what you assumed was the master bedroom. 

“Not everything,” Peter said quickly. 

You expected some kind of evil den but the room was quite normal. High ceilings, brown upholstered bed, a view of the neighborhood, and a fireplace. You and Peter stood awkwardly, looking around, as Steve made his way over to the fireplace. He leaned down to turn a dial and moments later, it sprouted with fire. 

“Peter,” You nudged him, your brows furrowed. He didn’t say anything which worried you more. Steve stood up, taking off his jacket which made your heart begin to race. Some of the fear disappeared quickly as he rolled up his white sleeves … exposing lower arms. 

Now, your mouth was watering, “There’s no need to worry, doll. I already promised Peter that no harm will come to the two of you. But you do understand that this is a trade? I give you my blood and you give me what I want.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted, “And what do you want?”

“I want to watch,” He stated, looking the two of you over, “I consider myself somewhat of a voyeur, I like to watch when people are intimate.” You looked back and forth from him to Peter. 

“Y/N, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Peter spoke quietly, worry in his eyes. 

“Of course not,” Steve smiled, already a bit aroused by your shocked expression. He reached into his pocket to pull out a pocket knife, its handle having an old and intricate design, “But I think it’ll be very enjoyable on your side of things. The blood will certainly take the edge off and I won’t overstep my boundaries, I promise.”

“And we’re supposed to trust a vampire … ,” Steve stepped closer, pressing the knife to his skin. 

“We don’t have another option,” Peter said, his eyes focused on Steve’s vein. Peter let go of your hand, the addiction taking over as he moved closer to Steve. Steve cut into his arm, the crimson running down it but not a drop touched the floor before Peter pressed his lips to the wound. 

When Peter pulled away, his head tilted all the way back, as the sweet serum traveled down his throat. You were still staring in shock, the scent reaching your nose, and drawing you further in. It took everything in you to keep your feet planted and your fingernails dug into your palm as you watched. 

Peter smiled, blood on his lips and mouth, “Y/N,” He drawled, “Please, taste it …” He walked towards you, his hands outstretched. The blood on his lips, you could smell it, and you wanted to taste it so bad that it was hurting you. When he leaned into your lips, you didn’t stop him. His tongue entered your mouth and you felt the high he was feeling. 

Your vision began to blur a little as your head tilted back. Peter’s hands were holding you steady as the biggest smile spread across your lips. It was like tasting heaven, something beyond reality and you wanted to never let that supernatural feeling go. 

You felt a foreign hand against your back but you felt like welcoming any touch under the influence of the drug. As Peter pulled his lips away from you, your eyes opened to Steve’s as he was offering you his wrist. With the taste already on the tongue, you gladly accepted more, Peter’s hands roaming over your body as you drank. 

You weren’t sure how you made it to the bed, it felt like you had floated. Peter was right, he was so right, were all the words you could think. You heard those words, felt Peter’s hands, and watched as Steve’s lips turned into a mischievous smile. 

Steve stepped away, the cut on his arm already healing, as he made himself comfortable in a lounging chair by the fireplace. He had to give it to the kid, he seemed to know your body much better than he expected for a guy his age. Either that, or you couldn’t tell what was what at the moment and it was all just pleasure in your glazed over eyes. 

Your head tilted to the side so Steve could analyze every detail of your face. Your dress was pulled down at the top and the bottom rolled up past your stomach. Peter held your legs firmly, biting and kissing your thighs as he made himself comfortable between your legs. 

“God, I fucking love you,” Steve smiled at Peter’s words. Your back arched up as he finally pushed your panties aside, tasting your warm center, “You smell so good. You taste so good.”

You cried out his name, biting down on your bottom lip, and Steve imagined you accidentally drawing blood.  You wouldn't have noticed, there was already blood dripping down your chin. Steve liked how loud you were, he didn’t like the girls that held everything in, and he liked even more how Peter took your mewlings as encouragement to lap at you faster. 

“Fuck,” You cursed, gripping the sheets tightly. Steve felt his pants begin to tighten though he promised himself he would wait, “Fuck, fuck!” You finally came and Peter crawled up your body in order to kiss you on your lips. 

He fumbled with his belt and Steve felt his desperation to be inside you. He was still slow with you when he finally entered you, much more patient than Steve imagined he would be. He kept things slow so you could adjust. He made love to you, kissing your neck, “Is that good?”

You nodded eagerly, “Y-Yeah! Like that …. I love that, Petey. Feels so good … feels so good.”

It was more than ecstasy. The blood mixed with the love of your life, you thought you might cry knowing that no other feeling could compare. 

+

Steve watched the young lovebirds through several rounds and several different positions, your stamina never seeming to run out. Like any other drug, the high relieved the side effects but it didn’t last forever. Eventually, you and Peter floated to sleep. 

You slept through the entire morning and you thought you’d wake in Peter’s arms. You could face any shame and guilt if you were with him but, when your heavy eyes finally opened, you were alone. Your palm against your head, you sat up in the bed, a little bit of sun creeping through the curtains. Looking down, you were completely naked most likely from last night's escapades. 

You felt dirty, for more than one reason. “Peter,” You whispered, stepping out of the bed to look for your dress. Covering your chest, you kneeled down to check beneath the bed, “Peter.”

You breathed heavily, trying to push down your anxiousness as you struggled to find your clothes. When the door of the room opened, you panicked, grabbing ahold of the comforter and pulling it against your body. 

It wasn’t Peter or Steve but a dark haired man, abnormally muscular for a vampire just like Steve. He tilted his head as he looked at you, “Where’s Peter?” You asked immediately. 

“Who?” He raised an eyebrow, shutting the door, “Ohhh, Peter. Right. The boyfriend.”

“Where’s Peter and who are you?” You continued, your eyes wide with fear. Bucky ran his hand over his beard before folding his arms over each other. 

“I’m Steve’s … friend,” You began to recognize him from all the photos, “There’s a few of us who share this house, you know. And I heard you all last night, I asked Steve if I could join the fun but sitting on the sidelines is a bit boring to me.” 

You didn’t care, “If you’re not gonna tell me where Peter is-”

He rolled his eyes, “He’s with Natasha I think. He woke up still craving. Are you craving something too, dollface?”

“Nothing from you,” You shook your head though the idea of his bleeding wrist did pop into your brain, “I-I need to see him.”

“Be my guest. Are you going naked?” You scowled at him, “Go clean up first, please. There should be something for you to wear in the bathroom.”

The two of you stared awkwardly until Bucky realized you weren’t going to move until he left the room, “Fine,” He raised his hands in defeat, “They always get shy in the morning.” He mumbled to himself as the door shut. You quickly hurried to the bathroom, shutting and locking it. 

Why the hell was Peter with Natasha? She’d look at him like she wanted to devour him, in a completely non-vampire kind of way. And he’d left you all alone for that man to find you. Sure, you’d done things last night you weren’t proud of but he’d promised that things would go back to normal after. 

You freshened up in the sink, throwing on a night blue, silk nightgown. You had to scrub the dry blood off of your lips and your inner thighs and you were forced to relive the night. Everything was perfect but as soon as you thought about who watched and probably got off to it, you only felt guilty. You felt even more guilty that you were craving more blood. 

The room was empty when you stepped back into it. Tip toeing over to the bedroom door, you made sure to check to see if the coast was clear before stepping out into the hallway. You thought you could find Peter, snap him out of whatever trance he was in, and take the two of you home even if you had to carry him out on your back. 

“Natasha warned me to keep an eye on you,” He appeared in front of you so suddenly that a small shriek left your lips. You backed up quickly only to run into another tall figure. 

“Bucky, you’re going to hurt her,” Steve warned, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. 

Bucky smirked, “No blood, no foul.”

“You say that now.”

You stepped away from both of them, your back pressing against the nearest wall, “Would you like breakfast, doll?” Steve asked, catching you off guard. 

“You should get something on your stomach, doll,” Bucky seemed to mimic Steve’s concerned nature which caused Steve to press his lips into a frustrated, thin line. 

“Where. Is. Peter? I want to go home.”

“He’s-”

Bucky interrupted him, “You can’t go home.”

“Buck-”

“There’s no use in sugarcoating it,” Bucky stepped closer, resting his arm above you, “We need new blood bags and it’s not like you guys have much to go back to.” 

“We’re not blood bags-”

“We’re all blood bags,” Bucky chuckled, “You guys need us too. Anyways, it’s not a request. Steve is just nicer than me but we’re all going to take what we want.”

You slipped away from him, your feet pushing you even though you knew you were faster. The only reason Bucky didn’t chase after you was because of Steve, “Peter!” You called out, running down the hall, “Peter!” You frantically opened each door you walked past until you got to the end of the hallway. 

When you stormed in, you found him shirtless, sprawled on a bed. Natasha, in a robe, was in front of a vanity, brushing through her red hair. You hurried over to the bed, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, “Peter, we have to get out of here.”

He smiled, softly grabbing ahold of your arm, “My love, you’re so beautiful, you know that?” He was so high that you weren’t even sure if he was really seeing you. 

Tears pricked your eyes, “You promised, Peter. You promised.”

He shushed you, “It’s okay, just give me a few … hours. We’ll be … okay.”

You felt hands on your waist that you didn’t fight. She brushed a piece of hair from your face, touching your cheek with her freezing hand, “I knew you’d like her, Buck. They're both so perfect,” Natasha guided you away from the bed and towards the door where the other two vampires were standing, “So who gets the first bite?”

“Steve’s had his fun. She’s mine tonight.” 

+

hope you enjoyed that fun little one-shot!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Independent Study: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Geto Suguru is a star grad student with a lot going for him. And he wants to add you to that list.

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW (oral, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism)

“Professor y/n?” The sound of your name makes you look up from the laptop in front of you and into the black orbs of the graduate student everyone was raving about.

“Mr. Geto,” you call out, and stand from the wooden desk, fingertips grazing the surface carefully. “Please, come in. Close the door.” The man comes into your office, sliding the leather messenger bag off his shoulder and onto the floor before shutting the door, then taking a seat in front of you. “I heard you made the Dean’s List for the third time from Professor Yaga; congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Geto smiles sheepishly at you, ducking his head a little. “I’ve been working on a presentation, and I wanted to come to ask you some questions.” He pulls out his laptop and rests it on his knees, placing his glasses over his eyes as he squints at the screen. You can’t help but notice how studious he appears to be at all times.

The staff had gone wild over the man when he first arrived, not only because of his looks but his fully-funded endowment that brought the university over one-hundred thousand dollars in revenue. Here he was, in your office, despite you being in the physics department, and Geto being an engineering student.

“How can I help you?”

He turns the screen to face you, and you see the tell-tale font of a research paper. “I’m having a hard time with this study. Mind taking a look?” You hold your hands out for the device and take it willingly, sliding it across your desk and reading the title: A Study on Intercourse.

“Interesting,” you muse, but as you continue reading, you realize by the second sentence that the paper is anything but peer-reviewed research-based. Your cheeks heat up as you turn the laptop back around, avoiding his gaze. “Um, Mr. Geto, I’m not sure that this is your research paper.”

“Oh?” He squints at the first couple of sentences, then tilts his head. “No, that looks about right.”

“It’s… um… it looks like the beginnings of a personal account of your dealings with… intercourse.”

“That’s right.” He turns the laptop back to you. “You see, I require a sample size of twenty since I only have two variables in this study. I don’t want to parade around campus having sex with twenty girls. Too many unknowns, right?” You stare at him dumbly, anticipating his next words. “So I thought, why I don’t I just ask the most attractive woman on campus if she’d be willing to have sex with me twenty times? And that’s where you come in, Professor.” Have sex… with… Geto Suguru? The thought makes you feel the heat between your legs, but you fumble for your answer.

“I-in Section Fifteen of the employee handbook, it states that I am not allowed to engage in any relations with students on or off-campus. That--”

“Includes sexual relations, illicit drug use, drinking, or parties of any kind.” Geto finishes.

“How do you--”

“I’m employed to study here, Professor y/n. Did you think that hefty endowment couldn’t buy me some leeway?” You gape at the man, mouth slightly ajar. “Besides, being a scientist in residence is part of the endowment.”

“I--”

“If you want to help me, meet me here tomorrow at 12.” He slides you a sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Your lunch is an hour and a half, right?”

“Yes…” you breathe and he nods, stuffing his laptop back into his bag before standing.

“Great. Oh, and… bring a change of clothes if you do show up.” Geto unlocks the door and leaves you sitting in your chair, dumbfounded.

_____________________________________________________________

Your finger finds the doorbell of the townhome, and as it rings, you look at your watch.

11:58.

You fiddle with the hem of your blouse as you wait for Geto to answer the door, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t answer and you could go back to work without considering any--

The door swings open, and Geto stands in the doorway, hair falling around his face.The grey shirt he’s wearing matches the joggers, but you dare look no further than the waistline. “Right on time,” he coos, and you enter the abode, looking around at the foyer and dining room. Everything is immaculate, you note, looking up at the crystal chandelier in awe. “Pretty, isn’t it?” You nod, and follow him past the kitchen and into a bedroom that’s twice the size of the one in your apartment. “You want anything? Water, something to eat?” He asks, turning around to face you.

“No, thanks,” you mumble, and he shrugs, shifting papers around on a desk that’s opposite a large bay window. The room is just as clean as the rest of the house: the bed is made, the floor is clean, and a video camera sits on a stand in the corner. “Um, Mr. Geto, I can’t--” Geto follows your line of sight and grunts once.

“I have to record these to gather evidence.” You look over at him, startled, and he holds up a piece of paper with blank spaces on it. “For my dissertation?” The reminder eases your nerves and you slide your purse off of your shoulders, setting it on his dresser. “I need you to sign this.” He walks over to you and hands you the paper with a ballpoint pen.

“What’s this?”

“Just a statement saying you agree to participate in the experiment and be filmed, but I agree to keep these for my viewing pleasure only and it won’t be distributed elsewhere.” You read over the words on the contract and sign below Geto’s name once you’re satisfied. When you finish, he takes the paper back and sits it on his desk before turning on the camera. “Date, ninth of May. Time, twelve o’five. First trial out of twenty.”

“H-how many are we going to do today?” you whisper.

“Just one per day. Though, we can go multiple rounds if you want,” he chuckles, rolling his shirt over his head and revealing his impeccable physique. You’re so focused on the way he looks half-naked that you almost forget why you’re there in the first place. Well, that is until he approaches you with a half-grin on his face. When he cups your chin and tilts your face up, you have no time to prepare for what comes next.

The kiss shared between you two snatches your soul from your body, and you lose all sense of what to do. Sure, you’ve had sex before, but it was always rushed, drunken, and passionless encounters. But the feeling of Geto’s fingers dipping beneath your blouse and to the edge of your pants makes you heady and so…

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I want the best results for my research.” You reply by kissing him again, and he finds the zipper to your blouse easily, pulling it down so that you can slide it off without breaking the kiss. When Geto guides you to the bed, you sink back onto the soft sheets, and he leans over you, pulling your hands above your head.

He trails soft kisses down your neck and to your breasts, covered in a lacy pattern you fished out from the bottom of your drawer. You lift up a little so his fingers can fiddle with the clasp, and he undoes that with dexterity and ease, much to your surprise. He flings the item across the room and marvels at the way your body looks beneath him, eyes drifting over your figure with lust.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since my first day,” he admits, and you gasp slightly. “Fuck.” His mouth finds your left breast and tugs at the nipple with his teeth before easing the discomfort with his cool tongue. While he’s giving your chest attention, he’s simultaneously pulling your pants down, exposing your lack of underwear below. Geto notices a moment later, and chuckles again, looking up at you in surprise. “My, my, it looks like we left our underwear at home, huh?” He dips a finger past your folds to see how wet you are and is not met with an unsatisfactory discovery. In response to this, he immediately drops to his knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. His tongue finds your core and you moan loudly, hoping that the camera would pick up every single sound you utter.

The slurping and hums of appreciation drive you wild, and your hands lace through his hair as he loses himself in eating you out. “Geto…” you breathe, and that drives him to go a little faster, drawing noises out of you that you aren’t used to hearing. He flicks at your clit once, twice, then dives back down to your slit eagerly, attacking your core like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in ages. When he pulls away, mouth covered in your slick, he licks his lips and raises a brow at you.

“Ready?” You nod in response, and he pulls down his joggers to reveal a raging hard-on. “See? Both of us wore nothing underneath.” You stare at his length, mesmerized by how long and thick and… proportionate it was.

First, Geto was smart, then he’s handsome, and he’s well-endowed? It was virtually impossible, right? He grabs his cock and pumps it a few times, driving the head toward your slit and pressing past your folds with some difficulty.

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding the tip out and trying again. “You haven’t been fucked in a while, have you?”

“Uh-uh,” you respond before hissing at the stretching feeling.

“Fine by me.” He pulls out again to try one more time, and finally, the tip of his cock slides into you fully. He groans and you whimper gently. Geto sinks into you and leans on top to deliver a series of sweet kisses to your mouth as he moves inside of you slowly. “God, this is fucking amazing.”

You clasp an arm around his muscled back, moaning as he rocks his hips back and forth. “G-Geto, please…” Your words encourage him to move a little faster, the sound of your wet pussy slapping against his hips obscene and loud, but you don’t care. All you want is for Geto to fuck you senseless. The bed creaks with his movements, and his hair tickles your face as he watches your expression change from semi-discomfort to enjoyment.

“Mmmm, seems that all you needed was a little bit of stretching out,” he muses, capturing your other breast in his mouth and sucking the skin hard. You cry out, digging your nails into his back, and he hisses, mouth lifting off of your chest. “Shit, y/n.” You buck your hips against him fervently, and Geto’s eyes close as he finds his rhythm again, biting his lower lip.

The way he feels inside of you, stretching you past your limit and yet, caressing your walls with his veiny length - it was all too much. Forget experiments, this was more than that. This was passion.

“Suguru,” you pant. “I… I’m going to cum… I--”

“Cum for me,” Geto whispers in your ear, and you let loose, spasming around his cock while continues to thrust into you. “Mmmm, just like that… Fuck!” Seconds later, he cums as well, grunting as he tosses his head back and drenches your insides with his seed. As you both come down from the feelings of ecstasy, you wind your fingers through his hair and he rests his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly.

“And how many times did you say we’d have to do this?” you wonder, stroking his hair.

“Twenty is the minimum… but I could always use some extra trials… you know, just in case.”

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @leanne-tamashi @jotazinha

[isthisthingeven0n]

number eleven : s.r

a serial killer is at large in atlana, carving numbers into his victims and throwing their bodies from rooftops. yet, things seem to hit a little too close to home for your liking, and sadly you get caught up in it all (4.2k)

( this is an original idea of mine, I’ve gone based off what I know in the show but the killer is made up! pls do not steal my concept without at least asking, and i hope you enjoy :) )

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

“Please, let her go!” You can hear the crack in his voice as his gun shakes in his grip, his eyes not leaving yours as tears pool. “You don’t have to do this, there’s another choice for you.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

*

Two Days Earlier

“Hey, Spencer,” You smile as you walk through the doors to the bullpen, two cups of coffee in hand as you place onto his desk. “how was the Doctor Who convention?”

Out of everyone in the team, you were the only one to pay attention to the small details Spencer shares. You always have done, ever since you first joined the BAU, you noticed the subtle eye rolls as he rambled on with facts and statistics so you made sure to always pay attention.

Lifting his head up, Spencer can feel a smile tugging his lips as you take a seat at your desk adjacent to his. “You would’ve loved it. They had the original designs from the Cybermen’s first appearance in 1966, ‘The Tenth Planet’ and for the time, it was high tech stuff.” He explains whilst you listen contently, oblivious to the others watching you both.

“God, they’re so into each other it hurts.” Emily sighs as Penelope nods along.

JJ walks over to the girls, catching sight of what they’re fixated on. “Why can’t they just say something? I mean, it’s been three years.” Penelope questions, but JJ simply chuckles.

“This is Spencer and Y/n we’re talking about.” JJ comments. “For one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, Spencer can be stupid sometimes.” She states, returning her focus to how you look at Spencer as he talks, but also how willing Spencer is to be close to you and laughs at your input in between his rambles.

“I bet twenty dollars he’ll say something by the end of the year.” Rossi chimes in, but Emily scoffs. 

“Dream on, Rossi.” She comments, but Rossi shrugs his shoulders. 

Hotch exits his office, catching a glance from the girls who quickly stand up straight. “We’ve got a new case,” He announces, passing between you and Spencer on the way.

As you all enter the board room, you sit beside Spencer as you look at the tablet in front of you whilst he sticks to the original file.

“Within the past few months in Atlanta, Georgia, at least nine women have been found dead having fallen from rooftops, all in their twenties, latest victim was Caroline Kutes, twenty-three. Last seen having gone for a run after her shift at a local diner.” Penelope explains as you scroll through the images, seeing what was left of them from the crime scene.

“It’s not some suicide pack, is it?” Morgan speaks up, but Penelope shakes her head.

“I’m glad you asked, sugar.” She turns her back as she pulls up more images, displaying the victims left forearms. 

“Numbers?” You question, zooming in onto the number three having been carved into the victim's flesh. “Someone’s keeping track.”

“So we know there are nine confirmed victims of this unsub then, it’s not a suicide pack.” Hotch states. “The police have requested our insight on the case, wheels up in thirty.”

Closing the tablet you push your chair back. “You alright?” Spencer asks you as everyone begins to file out.

You force a small smile, nodding. “Yeah, just some cases are never easy.” You mutter before heading out and grabbing your things.

*

Arriving straight to the latest crime scene, Hotch splits the team up. “Prentiss, I want you and Morgan to go to the rooftop, see if there’s anything left by the unsub or Caroline Kutes. Reid, Y/L/N, go to the morgue to take a look at the carvings and if there’s any other sign of torture.”

With that, you climb into a car with Spencer, looking at the drop from the building to where Hotch stands. “One hell of a fall.” You whistle as the driver pulls away, Spencer not missing your comment or how you’ve been wiping your hands over your pants since you arrived.

Standing in the morgue, Spencer took the lead as you stood back whilst bodies were examined. “There isn’t any sign of sexual assault on any of the women, but there are bruises across the neck and the carvings on the arm.” The diener explains. “From the fall she suffered several broken bones, a collapsed lung and a crack to her skull along with internal bleeding.”

“Are you saying she was alive when she hit the ground?” You speak up, stepping closer to see how they’ve managed to clean up the victims face, what remains from the large gash in her head.

“Yes, but only for a minute. She chocked to death on her own blood.” The diener states and you can’t help but feel a shiver through your spine.

“It’s most likely the unsub approached these women, if Caroline was out for a run, he might’ve asked her for directions or grabbed her. If she was grabbed, it would explain the bruising on the neck in an attempt to cut the circulation off to the brain, rendering her unconscious.” Spencer suggests, looking over to you as you remain too quiet for his liking. “You in there?”

Snapping out from your thoughts, you nod. “So the unsub approaches these women, tries to strangle them and then takes them to a rooftop. He isn’t sexually assaulting these women, but why throw them off a roof?”

“If he’s trying to pose it as suicide, it’s unusual for women to throw herself off a roof, it’s too dramatic. If a woman were to commit suicide, she’d overdose or drown herself. A subtle way to go.” Spencer explains as you nod along. “It’s almost as if he’s apologetic. He wants them to suffer, but can’t inflict the pain besides carving a number into their forearm.” Spencer looks over the number on Caroline’s arm. “You can see in some area’s he didn’t go deep enough with the knife, he’s dug in multiple times to carve out enough skin to make it bleed.”

“Maybe he’s a narcissist? Keeping track of his victims, making sure no one else can take the limelight for these girls.” You state. “I mean, he knows he isn’t going to get caught by the girls. Based on Caroline, she could barely move let alone tell anyone who did this.”

“I’ve seen countless bodies from suicide by jumping from buildings. It’s a rarity if you survived such a fall like this.” The diener tells you. “Clearly they knew what they were doing.” 

“Contrary to popular belief, when the body falls from a height their head does not splatter onto the ground. Their bones will break and splay out, but if you were to fall from say a 48 feet building you’re most likely to live with a 50% chance of surviving.” Spencer explains, and you nod along. 

“But our unsub picks tall buildings. Office blocks, malls, parking lots.” You tell Spencer who hums. “He knows they’re not going to survive the fall.” 

“Yes, but statistically,” Spencer begins, but your phone begins to ring cutting him off. 

“Sorry, Spence.” You tell him with an apologetic smile before moving out from the morgue, taking the phone call. “Yeah?” 

“Ah, my sweet angel. Have you found Cupid’s arrow yet?” Penelope chuckles, causing you to roll your eyes. “How’s the case going? No one’s called to update me on the gruesome details.” 

You sigh quietly. “Honestly, Pen, you’re lucky.” You tell her. “And what’d you mean by Cupid’s arrow?” 

Penelope groans loudly through the phone, and you can hear her head hitting the keyboard before she apologises to it. “Y/n, how are you so pretty yet oblivious to the attraction of one Spencer Reid?” 

“I, what?” You stumble over your words as you look over your shoulder to see Spencer staring back at you with a small smile on his lips as he waves to you. “I, he, Spencer? No,” You scoff, trying to think about anything else to reduce the spike in your heart rate. 

“I’m no profiler, but I know things,” Penelope states. 

“You’ve got it all wrong, Pen. Sorry to disappoint you, but there is no way he could ever like-” 

“Y/n?” Spencer calls out, now standing in the doorway in front of you. “Hotch wants us to meet him, has a potential lead.” 

“Sorry P, I gotta go.” You tell Penelope before she has the chance to say anything else and hang up the phone. 

Walking alongside Spencer, you can’t help but notice how close he is to you. For someone who is a bit of a germaphobe, he’ll always sit with you before anyone else. During a flight last month with bad turbulence, he held your hand in his as you began to fall asleep, resting your head on his shoulder. You woke up concerned he’d mind, but Spencer just smiled and offered his shoulder any time. 

“So, what’s the lead?” You ask as you walk into the police precinct, finding the rest of your team in a small room as boards with pictures have already been set up. 

“I’ve checked with Garcia about the possibility that whoever is doing this must have some form of access to each of these buildings. There has to be something tying them together,” Prentiss begins. 

“Like a cleaning company, or security?” JJ suggests. 

Emily nods before grabbing a file and reading directly from it. “SecureO is a security company based all over Atlanta. They have hundreds of security guards working at various office blocks, department stores, parking lots. You name it, they’ve got people there.” 

“And our unsub works for them?” You question, looking at the file to see the hundreds of names. “How are we supposed to find him?” 

Hotch reaches out to call Garcia. “And here I thought you forgot about me.” Penelope states through the line, and Morgan smiles to himself. 

“Garcia, can you take a look at the employee records for SecureO and crosscheck to see if any of them have criminal records.” Hotch asks as you listen intently to Penelope typing away. 

“Okay, fifty-seven members of staff have criminal records.” Penelope states.

“How about any with troubled pasts? Maybe this guy is using these women as a form of release. He’s not sexually assaulting them, so it’s less likely to be about an ex, maybe it’s more personal.” You suggest, and Spencer scans through the file once again before looking back at the victims on the board.

“You, my pretty might be onto something,” Garcia chirps. “right, there are twelve members of staff who grew up in the foster system. I’m sending their details over to you right as we speak.”

“Wait, Penelope,” Spencer calls out and Hotch raises his head. “how many of those twelve lost family? Basing on their age and strength, he must be at least in his late twenties or early thirties. Try looking up any accidents in the state in the late eighties to early nineties.”

“Thinking he might have never left the state?” Morgan questions, his arms crossed over his chest.

Clearing his throat, Spencer stands taller beside you as you glance up at him with a reassuring smile. “Looking at all these women, they’re all young and pretty. Anyone who grew up in the system is less likely to leave the place they’re comfortable in. If our unsub grew up in Georgia, he would’ve stayed here and have gotten a job at eighteen. SecureO has been around for twelve years, and five of these employees have been around since it began.”

“Okay, I’ll send across anything once I’ve found it.” Penelope speaks up and hangs up the phone.

“Good work, Reid. Let’s go deliver the profile.” Hotch nods as he leads the way out of the room, Rossi patting Spencer’s shoulder as he departs.

“Not too shabby, Doctor.” You nudge Spencer playfully and he softly chuckles as you walk out.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Y/n.” He mutters under his breath as you walk out of earshot.

*

Entering the station the next morning, you looked around as solemn expressions greeted you.

“What’s happened?” You ask, taking a seat beside Spencer who notions to JJ.

“Another victim was found in the early hours of this morning. Amelie Hartnell, twenty, was discovered on top of a dumpster in a back alley below a seven-story abandoned office building.” JJ passes over the file to you as you flick through the images whilst you hold your breath.

“She was only twenty,” You mutter to yourself, unaware of Spencer eyeing you carefully. “there’s something about the carving on her, it isn’t as deep. You can see it’s a lot shallower than the others.” You explain.

“He was in a rush this time.” Morgan states. “But if it was an abandoned building, who was going to see him?”

“I’m not sure,” Hotch mutters. “call Garcia, see if she’s found anything yet about those five employees.” 

“On it. Baby girl,” Morgan comments before exiting the room. 

“You seem tired, Y/n.” Rossi speaks up, and you lift your head up to see the concern in his eyes. “Is something bothering you?” 

Shaking your head, you dismiss the matter as the team look over at you. “I’m fine, just thinking about a few things. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” You tell him, but Spencer can tell there’s something else underlying you’re not saying. “Excuse me, I just need some air.” You mutter before exiting the precinct. 

Watching you walk away, Spencer sighs. “Well, go follow her,” Rossi motions to Spencer who quickly gets up and exits the room. “these kids, I swear.” He mutters to himself once Spencer is out of sight.

As you walk out, you take a deep breath, clearing your thoughts. “Y/n,” Spencer calls out and you turn around, forcing a smile. “something’s clearly bothering you.” He states as you move away to sit on a bench whilst Spencer hovers beside you. 

“When I was growing up, I had a friend, Sylvia,” You start, and Spencer watches as you brush your hands over your pants once more. “she moved to Savannah and we just grew apart, but I’ll never forget her brother, Killian.” 

Spencer sits down beside you, your leg touching his as he reaches out and takes your hand. “Y/n, what was it about Killian?” He questions quietly. 

“He was always there, just watching us.” You mumble, remembering those bright blue eyes always in the background, never leaving you or Sylvia. “But, their parents, they died in a car crash when Sylvia was thirteen, Killian was fourteen.” You begin to explain as you exhale a shaky breath. 

Squeezing Spencer’s hand, he shushes you. “It’s okay, just, take it one memory at a time.” He reassures you as your eyes remain tightly shut. 

“From what I know, Sylvia couldn’t take it, losing her parents,” You swallow the lump in your throat as you open your eyes, focusing on Spencer’s. “she killed herself, by jumping off of the roof of a mall.” 

“Just like the first victim.” Spencer mutters as he quickly stands up. “We gotta tell Hotch.” 

*

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner, Y/n?” Hotch stressed as he frowns at you, but Spencer remains by your side as you keep your focus on the team, eyeing the photos behind Emily. 

“I suppressed a lot of memories from when I was growing up, I forgot all about Killian and Sylvia, but seeing these photos it just made me think back to it all.” You explain, looking around at all of your team. “I’m sorry for holding back.” You apologise, and JJ smiles as she walks over, hugging you lightly. 

“Garcia, can you look up Killian and Sylvia Atwork?” You speak up into the phone and Penelope begins to type rapidly before pausing.

“Oh my god,” She mutters. “Killian has been working at SecureO for ten years. He was employed when he turned eighteen and is in charge of the security footage for various locations.” 

Hotch rises to his feet. “We have to inform the police department and the news outlets, JJ, can you sort a press conference?”

“I’m on it.” JJ states as she begins to call her contacts, taking the call in another room.

“Y/n, we might’ve just had a break in the case because of you, thank you.” Hotch comments and Rossi gives you a subtle thumbs up. “Garcia, I need you to look at any other buildings that SecureO are in charge of the security systems, see if our unsub is heading to any of these next. If we’re lucky, we’ve got enough time to stop him killing again.”

“Will do, Sir.” Penelope calls out from the phone.

“You think we’ll get him in time?” You speak up, fiddling with the hem of your cardigan.

“Hopefully.” Hotch sighs and JJ walks back in.

“Ready when you are, Hotch.”

* The plan was simple, and it should’ve been effective. All of you were teamed off into pairs. Prentiss and Morgan, JJ and Rossi, Hotch and the chief of police whilst you went with Reid.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n.” Spencer mutters as you sit beside him in the car on route to the office block about ten minutes west of the station. “Without you, we might not have gotten to this point.”

Spencer can’t help but feel warm inside as you smile up at him. “You think so?”

“I know for a fact.” He states as his hand reaches out to yours as he pulls up to the building. “Just keep an eye out, and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Again.” You add as you close the car door, securing your vest on as the pair of you begin to head up to the roof of the building, you leading the way.

“Any sign, Y//L/N?” Hotch asks through your earpiece.

Looking around, you keep your gun extended in front of you as you quietly open the door to the roof. “Negative.” You state, turning the corner as you continue to search the place whilst Spencer is still coming up the stairs.

“Reid, my dead grandmother could’ve gotten up those stairs faster than you.” You joke playfully as he comes into sight, the sun beginning to set behind you illuminating his hazel eyes as they widen.

“Y/n!” Spencer yells, but you’re too slow to react as an arm is tightly holding your neck whilst a knife is being pressed against your back beneath the vest.

“Long time no see, huh, Y/n?” Killian mutters into your ear as he begins to drag you back as you sight against him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, this can end one of two ways, I prefer to keep this clean.”

“We need back up and medics at 1238 Meadow Lane, I repeat, we need backup. Killian is here, he, he has Y/n.” Saying that through the comms immediately causes his heart to sink as tears fill your eyes.

“We’re coming now,” Hotch announces, and you can hear the sound of sirens across the city as Killian drags you toward the edge of the roof with you in front of him.

“Spence,” You focus on Spencer’s face as his gun remains out, directed at Killian’s head. “what are the statistics of surviving this?” You ask him as a tear falls down your cheek.

“Y/n,” Spencer starts, but you shake your head as you fight against Killian, taking shallow breaths as he continues to apply pressure to your windpipe.

“Please,” You breathe out as Killian chuckles against you. “I need to know.”

The truth of the matter is you know your odds of making it out alive are slim to none, but you wanted to hear Spencer ramble one last time. 

“From a building like this, a ten-story drop your odds aren’t great, in fact, falls from ten-story buildings have a 90% chance of death.” He explains, his gun now shaking in his hand as he pictures you on the ground below, bleeding out. “Those, those who survive can be paralysed if they land on their backs, permanent brain damage from skull fractures or,” Spencer stops himself as Killian focuses on him.

“Do finish Doctor Reid, I’m enjoying this.” Killian states, and you shudder at the fact he’s finding this entertaining.

“In cases like Sylvia, she survived but was left to bleed out.” Spencer finishes, and your eyes widen. “You see, Sylvia wasn’t suicidal like we thought. She was just in the wrong place, wasn’t she, Killian?” Spencer steps closer, but you wince as you can feel the knife starting to pierce your skin.

“No, Sylvia killed herself. I, I saw it.” Killian yells, tightening his grip around your neck as your hands lie limply by your sides. “I would never hurt her.”

“Not intentionally,” Spencer comments. “you were playing, and you knocked her, didn’t you?”

Killian shakes his head. “No! She jumped!” You can feel his heart beating against you. “She jumped and never said goodbye, she left me all alone.” He cries out.

“Killian, I’m sorry.” You manage to say. “It wasn’t your, your fault.”

“She left me here.” He spits at you. “Everyone else moved on, but I was left with the guilt.”

“There’s always another way, Killian.” You speak softly, focusing on Spencer. “But if this is it,” You start, but Spencer shakes his head. “Spencer, I’m so sorry.” You let your tears fall freely down your cheeks as Spencer steps closer.

“Y/n, don’t do this.” Spencer tells you.

“I love you Spence, but please, please be strong for me.” You can feel yourself beginning to slip out of consciousness as Killian continues to apply more pressure around your neck.

“There’s another way out, Killian. I promise you, just let Y/n go.” Spencer is yelling at the top of his lungs as Killian simply laughs.

“You think there’s another option? You sure you’re a Doctor, kid?” Killian scoffs.

“It’ll be okay, Spence,” You fight against the unsubs hold as his arm remains pressed against your neck. “just, don’t give up.”

“Please, let her go!” You can hear the crack in his voice as his gun shakes in his grip, his eyes not leaving yours as tears pool. “You don’t have to do this, there’s another choice for you.”

The unsub scoffs as you wince at he breathes into your ear. “This ends with you.”

Closing your eyes, you embrace the feeling as Killian falls backwards, taking you with him.

“NO!” Spencer screams, running over as Killian lets go of you at the last second.

Spencer grabs a hold of your hand, but within a split second, it slips. “Spence,” You cry out as you hang on to the ledge of the building with all your might.

The sound of Killian hitting the floor only worsens your fear as Spencer begins to pull you up. All you can hear is the sound of your heart in your ears as the sirens dull behind you whilst Spencer is yelling in front of you, yet you can’t hear any of it. 

“Come on, Y/n, stay with me!” Spencer screams as another pair of hands appear by his side.

“Come on, we’ve got you.” Hotch states, pulling you up with Spencer and away from the ledge.

Immediately you fall into Spencer’s arms, your hands gripping his arms as you sob into his chest. “It’s okay, I’m not letting go.” Spencer holds you tightly as he looks up at Hotch, his expression saying more than words can.

“We need a medic!” Hotch yells as three men appear, checking over you as you remain sat with Spencer on the roof, far away from the ledge.

“You’re okay,” Spencer tells you as you go quiet, going into shock as the medics help you out from the building and into the ambulance as your team stands by.

“Oh thank god.” JJ blurts out as Spencer exits the building, enveloping him into a tight hug. “Are you alright?” She checks as she pulls away, but Spencer can’t help himself as he focuses on you in the back of the ambulance, wrapped in foil as the medics check you over.

JJ follows Spencer’s gaze and can’t help but force back her smile.

“Go on, you should be with her.” She assures him, but Spencer pauses.

“Y/n told me she loves me.” Spencer quietly tells JJ who quirks an eyebrow. “You, you knew didn’t you?”

JJ chuckles under her breath. “Spence, we all knew. But she doesn’t know you love her too, does she?”

Spencer shakes his head as he glances back over to you, seeing you being given the all-clear as you begin to rise to your feet.

Immediately, Spencer darts over to help you, his hand resting on your waist as you look up at him. “Spence, I,” You stumble over your words, watching as Killian’s body is being transported away in the body bag.

“Hey, don’t focus on that,” Spencer rests his hand on your cheek. “you’re alive, and I guess you beat the statistic.” He states, listening as you laugh lightly.

“Probably because I didn’t fall.” You add.

“But you almost did, and, and I would never have had the chance to tell you this,” Spencer tells you.

“Tell me what?” You ask, looking up at him with hesitation.

Spencer opens his mouth and after exactly three years, two months and nine days of knowing you and falling in love with you, he cannot find the right words to string together. “In the English language. there are 171,476 words. I’ve only ever needed three of them to tell you how I feel, but I can’t even do that properly.” He laughs uneasily as he focuses on you.

Lifting your hand up, you rest it on the back of his neck as you rise to your tiptoes. “Is this okay?” You whisper.

“More than okay,” Spencer responds before his lips are on yours.

You can hear Rossi cheering in the background as Hotch tries to shush them all but secretly is proud of you both. Having seen the way you gripped Spencer’s shirt when he saved you on that roof, he knew it was about time something would finally happen.

Pulling away from the kiss, you laugh lightly. “I take it the feeling is reciprocated then?” You question, and Spencer smiles.

“I’m never letting you go again.” He mumbles into you as you rest your head against his chest, hoping that promise will remain intact.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“My fake boyfriend is a billionaire ?!” - Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : After a few shitty weeks of everything going wrong, you somehow find yourself faking a relationship with the one and only Bruce Wayne. 

That’s it. I did it. After 3 years posting stories on this platform, I finally succumb to one of the biggest fanfiction cliché of all time haha. The infamous fake boyfriend trope. And I really hope you will like it : 

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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The Gap Year of Disaster

Today, you were an utter mess, and you couldn’t care less.

You know, this kind of days where you wish you would just have stayed in bed ?

Where everything goes wrong and you just want to hide under your blanket and pretend you don't have any responsibilities ?

Well today…Today was most definitely this kind of day.

It was suppose to be your first day at an exciting new job and you were so psyched about it, that you hadn’t been able to sleep all night. 

You finally fell into a deep slumber during the very early hours of the day, and…

Of course you woke up late ! You didn't have time to take a shower, or to do your make-up nicely or even to brush your hair. But worst of all you didn't have time to get coffee !

When you got out with your bike….it was pouring outside. Ah but of course, because when one thing goes wrong everything has to follow. Everything WILL go wrong. Murphy's law or some stupid things like that !

It's in those moments you wish you had a car ! Because when it rained in Gotham…It felt like Noah was ordered to built another ark !

So, sleep deprived, soaked, in a bad mood and looking like a mess, you managed, by some miracle, to arrive at your job on time.

Only to discover that this wasn’t at all what you were expecting. It was NOT what was promised to you, which was experience in an exciting workplace and a way to make the most of it. 

Instead, it was a desk job where you ran errand for everyone. Amazing. 

This was supposed to be your first try at “real life”, this was why you took that gap year from college. 

“I want to find myself, find who I really am !” You told everyone around you, ignoring those who were negative and telling you you should finish your study first. 

Now, as you were stuck in a tiny cubicle with an endless list of coffee orders you had to get for everyone else, you felt like maybe they were right, and that this wasn’t quite the way you were going to “find yourself”. 

Then again, wasn’t it through hardship that this sort of things unlocked ? Wasn’t it with great determination and knowing how it was to struggle, that you were going to thrive ? That’s what they said in TED talks dedicated to “success”...

So far in your life, things had been rather normal. Not particularly easy, but not hard either. You grew up in a small town in New Jersey, no troubles on the horizon. You then moved to Gotham for college as you had a scholarship for Gotham’s University, and as you were about to start your third year you sort of questioned wether or not this was your path...

One of your favorite professor told you to maybe take a gap year. A few semesters off, to think things through. Taking advantage of it to do some soul searching and try to know what you really wanted and...It sounded wonderful ! 

That’s when you started to have job interviews in many different fields, and it took you three months to finally find something. Three very stressful months of wondering how long you could live off of your measly savings, and wether or not you’d have to move back in with your parents (anything but that !)...Not a very good start to that gap year for sure. 

And when you landed what you thought was going to be a great job, things definitely were looking up ! Ah, but the fact that you were chosen while you had NO experience and such, should’ve been your first warning that this was too good to be true. 

You were trying to stay positive though. Maybe it was only for the first day ? Maybe their coffee person was sick or something ? It’d get more interesting later ? Yes. Yes let’s keep a positive outlook on everything. 

Except right now, as your entire morning was made of you walking up and down the building (the elevator was not working, but of course), to the coffee shop at the corner of the street, and bringing back orders for people, you didn’t feel in the mood to try and stay cheery. 

And the worst in all that ? You didn't even get ONE cup for yourself…This “real life” thing was not starting very well. 

And so here you were, during your lunch break, looking like a mess, bag under your eyes and still wet from the rain (your trips up and down the street for coffee runs not helping drying yourself off), your morale at its lowest..And…

"That'll be 3 dollars and 50 cents for the large latte with triple espresso shot, m'am."

Catastrophe. 

Proof that things could ALWAYS get worst. 

As you were looking through your bag, you couldn't find your wallet !

Did you leave it at home ?! Maybe. 

People at your work gave you the money to buy them coffee (and not a single tips, bunch of cheapskates). And you didn’t notice you were missing that oh so essential part of your daily life...Your credit card. Or any type of money. 

Damn it ! 

“Um, excuse me miss, that’s 3,50 please ?”

“Oh yes yes, um, you know what I just-” 

“Here, miss, you dropped this.” 

As you were about to explain that in fact, you didn’t need coffee (even if when you asked for it you might’ve mentioned it being a question of “life or death”), too embarrass to admit you didn’t have the money to buy it, a...very handsome man handed you a twenty dollars bill. 

You were a hundred percent sure this wasn’t yours. You never carry lose cash like this. A quick look to his kind deep blue eyes, and soft smile, and you realize...

Oh. Great. A total (very handsome) stranger took pity of you. 

You probably looked even worst than you felt. You were about to say this was a mistake, but before you could, he gave the bill to the barista, and left with a last smile to you, taking his own cup of coffee away with him. 

Damn. You didn’t have time to say “thank you”. He vanished as fast as he appeared, disappearing in the crowd of the busy coffee shop. 

“Here’s your change, m’am.” 

“Ah you know what ? Keep it buddy. Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Wow, thanks !” 

You were pretty sure that barista never had such a big tip, and it oddly made you feel better, to make someone else’s day like that. Your grandma did always say that you found true joy from helping others...

Oh, yeah, ok, you just helped someone out, why was the universe so angry at you ?! 

As you turned around and started to leave, almost at the exist of the shop, mood a little better after this nice encounter with a (again, handsome) stranger, and the barista, you see him. 

Him. One of the reason you sort of decided to take a gap year. 

Him. 

Your ex-boyfriend, Eric, who cheated on you with your friend Monica. Needless to say, it wasn’t a good memory. And you hadn’t seen neither him nor her since you left college, especially not since you heard they actually got together. 

Your FRIEND. With your BOYFRIEND. And it went on for a while, before you finally discovered it (that day was as shitty as today...). 

Oh. And of course Eric wasn’t alone. She, was there too. The one you thought was your friend, and who stabbed you in the back like that. Both of them discarding you like a dirty old sock. 

Great. Really. Awesome. This day was going from “bad” to “please kill me.” 

“(Y/N) !” 

He looks surprised to see you, although also a little pleased. And it makes you want to punch him in the face. You don’t care if it’s because he wished things ended another way, they both betrayed your truth and then never even tried to talk to you again afterward. 

You’re not sure you would’ve forgave them, but at least, it would’ve shown they still cared about you in a way. Nobody chooses who they’re going to fall in love with (that, you’d soon discover for yourself). But she was your best friend. And he was with you for over a year. 

She’s a little more awkward than him, and smiles, clearly embarrassed. You always knew she was a bit of a coward, if she wasn’t, she would’ve face you, right ? 

And that’s when it happened. The decision that would forever change your life.

In this great moment filled with despair and awkwardness.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw that nice stranger who paid for your coffee. The handsome one. He didn’t leave the shop, but instead went to seat at a table that was a little further away than the rest of them. 

His eyes were glued to his phone, and you thought : “Well, fuck it, all this can’t get any worst right ?”

You were sort of hoping that, since he had been nice with you once and offered you those twenty dollars without knowing you (although you were very aware it was probably just pity), maybe he could help again ? 

Maybe it was the fatigue, the fact you were getting sadder and sadder, that you had a terrible day, and that you just saw two people you loved and who threw you away like you meant nothing (oh but not before being super fake to you, pretending they WEREN’T cheating behind your back)...maybe it was a combination of all of that, that made you act crazy. 

But here you found yourself, sitting at that stranger’s table, and saying, as he looked up from his phone clearly surprised : 

“How are you guys ? As you can see, I’m great.” 

You don’t dare to look at the handsome stranger, and hope he’ll be too stunned to say anything, and you can make your ex-friend and ex-boyfriend feel embarrass enough they’ll leave quickly. But then Monica says something that makes your heart skip multiple beats : 

“You...You know Bruce Wayne ?!” 

You turn to the man who gracefully paid for your coffee, and your eyes go wide. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. How did you NOT recognize him ?! Of course. Chiseled face, beautiful blue eyes, a suit that was definitely worth your entire year’s salary, a very charming aura...

Your hazy mind full of “fuck this day” didn’t register that THE Bruce Wayne, was the one who helped you out. How did you miss that ? His face had been plastered everywhere in Gotham for the past year, since he came back to the city, in fact. 

You hear yourself wish with all your might to be struck by lightning this instant, as the two assholes who hurt you so much are looking at you expectantly and are not about to live (of course, they just met celebrity BRUCE WAYNE !! Could someone be as unlucky as you were today ?!)

And that’s when you hear a chuckle, a beautiful deep chuckle, and finally turn to look at Bruce. He smiles at you, and takes your hand, saying : 

“Honey, who are your friends ?” 

Your brain go full “ERROR 404″, not quite able to grasp the fact that THE Bruce Wayne just ran with what you were trying to do. How ? How was this possible ? You initially went to sit with him in the hope that Eric and Monica would see you were totally ok and with a hot date, not quite sure still yet how you ever thought this was a good idea and...

It was turning out alright ?! 

HOW ?! 

“Oh um, I’m..Eric. And this is my gir...This is Monica.” 

What a piece of shit. Not even brave enough to call her his “girlfriend” when he cheated on you with her for months and months. You glare at him, unable to stop this gut reaction. 

And that’s something Bruce caught. 

In fact, as soon as you sat down, avoiding looking at him and nervously looking at those two people, Bruce sort of knew you were in an uncomfortable situation. One that made you take an irrational decision. 

And oh, he didn’t like the look Eric and Monica gave you. Like they felt superior as they caught you in a bad moment. Bruce hated, people who thought they were superior to others... 

And you clearly seemed in distress and in need of help so...He ran with it. 

Bruce had to pretend to be someone he wasn’t enough that it felt natural, to run along with what your hazy mind thought was a good idea. 

“Nice to meet you, are you friends with-” 

Damn it. He realized he didn’t know your name. Quick thinking saved him, and he managed to keep his tone even, as to hide his hesitation : 

“My love ?” 

His hand around yours felt warm and reassuring, and you still couldn’t believe that, not only a total stranger, but THE Bruce Wayne was helping you out like that. Especially after you had such a bad day. 

Him calling you his “love” made your exes feel very awkward, and they shake their head “no”, suddenly pretending they’re very busy and have to meet up with someone. They leave the coffee shop, clearly stunned, whispering things to each others that you knew were probably : “how did she get a guy like him ?!”

You can’t help but glare at them some more...But then your hand feels cold again, and you realize Bruce let go off it. Well. Duh. Of course he would. 

You turn to him, your feature softening, and say : 

“Are you an angel ?” 

Ah yes. Your defense mechanism. “Humor”. 

He chuckles, and says : 

“Well, I’m afraid not. My butler would think this is very funny. But thank you.” 

Awkwardly, you rub your neck, your free hand nervously turning your cup of coffee clockwise in your palm. You don’t really know how to end this, what : “thanks for that” and leave ? 

“Thanks for the coffee. And for um...Saving my ass, just there.” 

He smiles, and wow hello white teeth and charming dimples ?! 

“You’re very welcome. They looked like they were jerks.” 

“Haha oh you have no idea.” 

“Glad I could help.” 

“Thanks again. Really. This means a lot, especially since we don’t know each others. Well, I know you. Everyone in Gotham does haha. And ok I’m going to leave now, my lunch break is almost over and I don’t want to make this even more awkward.” 

You start to rise up, but he holds you back by catching your sleeve, and says : 

“Actually miss…?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Miss (Y/L/N), you are kind of saving my life right now.”

“…I am ?”

A flash blinds you. Not a lightning, a camera flash. You turn, just in time to see a guy hastily hiding a camera and running away. 

“What the...” 

“A paparazzi. Good timing, for once.” 

“Huh ?” 

You wish you had some witty come back, or would just know what to say. But you’re confused. And this has been a really weird day. 

“I am sorry if this will seem forward, or like I helped you wanting something in exchange. But I promise I will make it worth your while if you just sit back down and listen to me for a few minutes.” 

You sit back down. More because you’re unsure your leg can still support you in this moment, than because he asked you to. With a smile he continues : 

“Thank you. So. Let me explain a little, and again, sorry if this is too forward. If you don’t want to help of course, I would understand. I’m about to ask you something rather odd, I guess. And I’ll clear things up with paparazzis. I also promise I did not help you with your “friends”-”

“They’re not my friends.” 

“I figured that much. And I promise I didn’t help you with them and ran with whatever you were trying, just so I could ask you this.” 

“Ask me what ?” 

“Well, you see…it’s arranged marriage season.”

“What ?”

“Every year, every single rich family try to make me marry their single daughters. It’s a very tiring season, but I’ve never been able to avoid it…I thought about having a fake fiancee before but could never find the right person.”

What he says does not register with you. His clear proposal doesn’t hit your brain. And you just stare at him, waiting for him to keep going. But he doesn’t, and by the way he looks at you, you slowly starts to understand where he’s getting at. 

You gasp, now pretty sure this is all a dream (or a nightmare) and say : 

“And I’m the right person ?”

“Well, yes. You seem to be a...“normal” person.”

“…Thanks.”

“In that case it’s good. It’s very good. It means that if I’m dating you, a woman that has nothing to bring me, then it must be true love.”

“Wow, stop with the flatteries already mister Wayne, I can’t handle it…”

Ah, your slight wits are back. Good sign that you’re regaining your senses. Everything that happened in the last ten minutes still feel like a bad dream, but you’re back in reality now. 

“No no no, I didn’t mean it in a demeaning way ! But it’s just, you’re not rich, and you’re not famous or have political ties. You’re just a regular person. So they won’t think I’m trying to trick them, even if I am, do you know what I mean ?”

“Gotcha. My broke ass person cannot bring you any value, so it must be love and not just an arranged thing they can break. Cool.”

There’s a slight silence. And you find it a little fun, to play a little bit with the famous Bruce Wayne. He seemed so confident and cocky on TV, you never thought you’d be able to make him look so guilty. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

He says, clearly meaning it. But you shake your head and smile at him (and oh why does he feel his heart tightening slightly at your smile ?), and reassure him instantly (you feel a little bad, actually, to mess with him while he did just really do a huge favor to you while he had no obligations to) : 

“Haha, just messin’ around with ya Mster Wayne. I’m not bothered by it, it’s the truth. I’m really broke, and I don’t think you could find more “regular” than me right now. So, and because you really did save my ass from an extremely displeasing experience back there. And also because you allowed me to see those assholes’ face of surprise and “how did she manage that ?!”, tell me more about your plan, and let’s see if I can help you back.”

And so Bruce starts to explain to you how, every year, this beginning of Fall is the worst time ever, as it’s a moment where everyone seems to want to marry off their daughter. And of course, Bruce Wayne is a good “party”. 

The plan was fairly simple. You’d fake a relationship with him, so he could avoid all of this, and in exchange...Well. You’d gain a lot in exchange. 

This is how you started to really feel like you had fallen into a “romcom” by accident...You and Bruce, became an actual living trope. 

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

“And then when the “marrying season” is done, you can break it off.”

“I ?”

“Well yes, I can assure you you’ll gain quite a rep if you break up with me haha.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure you like that sort-of overly confident side of him. But you can see something behind his eyes, like a slight unsureness as he looks back at you, trying to see if you’ll agree or not.

“I don’t really need a “reputation”.”

Breaking up with THE Bruce Wayne himself. For sure people would talk about it a lot, and maybe it would help open some doors for you ? But you felt a little odd taking advantage of this like that. 

Seeing that he hadn’t convinced you quite yet, he adds : 

“Of course, I will pay you.” 

What kind of Pretty Woman sort of nonsense was this ?! You were about to protest when he added, realizing how he sounded : 

“I mean, you ARE doing me a great service. You ARE going to have to act, you know ? An...actual job ? And I will be honest with you, it won’t be easy, to find yourself in the public eye. I think it definitely justify a salary.” 

Put that way, you had to admit that, well, yeah it sort of did. Especially since you knew how crazy tabloids were about Bruce Wayne. Becoming his “girlfriend” would definitely put you on the front lines. 

“And it would truly help me tremendously.” 

Your grandma always said it : “True joy comes out from helping others !” So. What if you benefit from it a little ? If it helps you financially, and you can get a little network out of it ? First rule of Alchemy (what a weeb) : “equivalent exchange” ! Plus, he did really help you with your coffee, but also with Eric and Monica so...

And hey, this gap year was meant to help you find what and who you wanted to be. Help you go through this little twenty-something crisis. And this ? Living a literal romantic comedy cliche by faking being someone’s girlfriend ? Well, it definitely felt like the kind of adventure that could help you figure things out.  

With a smile, you finally nod and shake his hand, not knowing quite yet in which mess you actually put yourself into...

Briefing. 

Like every “secret mission”, this one too needed a “briefing”. 

A little meeting to put all the rules down, and the goals too. 

And here you were, feeling very out of place in a huge conference room in the biggest and tallest building in Gotham : “Wayne Tower”.  

The concierge stared at you for a very long time, when you said you were there to see Mister Wayne. No “nobody” like you ever called for his boss. 

Suspicious, as it was his job, he called security on you...Until it was finally cleared up that you DID have a meeting with Bruce Wayne ! 

Both the concierge, and the security guys, stared at you as you left to take the elevators they indicated to you, wondering who the hell had the kind of credentials to go all the way up there to see their boss ?! They didn’t recognize you from anywhere, not a model, not a famous politician or CEO, just...A regular person ? 

That was odd. And they noticed, it was odd. Which you assumed was what Bruce was aiming for, but it felt so awkward, to walk through this huge hall under their scrutiny. 

You finally arrived on the right floor, and oh look, some more staring. 

From his secretary, this time. She was used to see women coming to see her boss. But they’d usually wear Prada, and have plunging necklines full of pearls and fanciness. They weren’t...like you. 

You felt like it was easy, to know that you were just a “normal” person. You were definitely not wearing any designer clothes, and you were pretty sure the way you carried yourself made you super obvious. 

Hence all the staring. You could clearly see in her eyes, that she was wondering who the hell you were... 

She had her answer when Bruce came out of his office, and made a gesture as if he was going to throw his arm around your waist, and kiss you (which made you downright panic). But then, he looked awkwardly at his secretary, and instead just shook your hand. 

Something that DID NOT go unnoticed by his secretary. 

You saw how her eyes widen, and how she clearly hitched to take her phone out and call everyone...and you realized Bruce did this awkward thing because he knew his secretary, and her tendency to be a little gossipy. 

You’d discover later, in fact, that he hired her entirely because he knew if he said something, she would pick up on it and it would help him control rumors and such. Clever. 

For the moment though, he took you to a large conference room with huge windows. 

“I’m sorry for the weird “hello” back there, I wanted Shirley to think I was embarrassed to display affection to you in front of her. Usually, I do not mind at all. So doing it would make her think that-”

“I’m someone special to you.” 

“Exactly !” 

He smiles widely as you understood his plan (not sure how you felt about it, then again, that’s why you were here for, making sure you knew where both of you stood in all this), and then tells you he’ll be back in a few minutes. 

You have time to feel anxious and stressed before he finally comes back. 

“Sorry for the wait.” 

“Oh no, I bet you’re a busy man.” 

“Yes well. Anyway. Let’s get to it shall we ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Ok. So. I thought we’d settle sort of a little contract, so neither of us ever feel uncomfortable ?” 

“Sounds good, mister Wayne.” 

“Yes well first, please call me Bruce.” 

“Only if you call me (Y/N).” 

Oh and you two were still on the path of “romcom cliches”, with this conversation. He smiles, nods, and continues : 

“Ok, then I thought we could-” 

And so your fake relationship started, with some little ground rules. Like he could only kiss you after you gave him permission, if you ever felt overwhelmed everything would be called off, etc etc. 

Most rules were in your favor, to be honest. And WOW the paycheck he was going to give you for this little farce...Hey, maybe this gap year was finally gonna get interesting ?

Meeting the Little Buddy. 

It was sort of necessary. By then, Dick had been his son, officially, for a few months. He wasn’t calling him “dad” yet (and Bruce didn’t particularly want him to, at the time...ah but everything change one day, right ?), but they were already family. 

And it was a needed step. 

It wasn’t in the little “contract” you made, and honestly you could’ve refused to meet him but...Well, you liked kids. In another life, it felt like you could’ve been a teacher (A/N : AH, like in this story ;) : “Can you be my dad’s girlfriend, please ?” ). 

And you’d feel awkward, to fake a relationship and not ever meet his boy. 

The first time he saw you, it was at the Wayne Tower, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed : 

“Wow you’re so pretty ! Are you Bruce’s girlfriend ? You’re too good for him, you know.” 

You could feel your heart melt, how adorable this little guy was, right ? You chuckled, and almost full on laughed as you saw how vexed Bruce was by the comment. 

Not that he thought he was too good for you, no, he was just a little unhappy his son was stealing the show, and thought he couldn’t land someone like you...Oh but that, you couldn’t guess at the time, of course. 

“Nice to meet you, Dick. I’m (Y/N). And...I’m not really his girlfriend.” 

“Can you be mine then ?” 

You laugh again. You and Bruce had decided to tell him the truth, Bruce assuring you that kid was good at pretending too. You answer : 

“No, I’m saving him from marriage proposal.” 

“Oooooh !” 

Good at pretending. Dick had no idea what you were on about, but he was very good at acting as if he knew. 

It’s only way later, that he finally got it. By then, he already accepted you as : “his dad’s girlfriend”, and even knowing the truth, there was no way to change his mind. And to be honest, out of everyone, little Dick Grayson was probably the most aware of what the situation truly was. 

He had a knack, to notice how people felt. 

A “family” outing.

Two months in, and it was going GREAT. Faking a relationship was actually pretty easy. All you had to do was hanging out with him (and he was very nice to hang out with), and when a paparazzi was around, quickly kiss his cheek, or hold his hand, or let him put his hand in your hair...All those cute things new couples do. 

Today was one such small date. 

You could see Bruce was nervous, though.

After hanging around with him that many times, you started to know him a little better. Started to know he wasn’t really that persona he portrayed publicly.

He was actually quite a dork. What a pity, nobody else would ever know his real self...Yet, it made you happy you were one of the few in on the secret.

“Ok, out with it mister, what’s up ?”

He looks at you with such surprise in his eyes, as if it was the first time someone guessed what he was feeling...and, well, yes. It was. It was the first time someone who wasn’t Alfred got it. Someone realized something was on his mind. And asked him about it, didn't just ignore and move on. Actually cared to know. 

“I-Um...”

“Well ? Come on, I think literally nothing can surprise me by now, given you know, I’m faking a relationship with a billionaire, and it’s like, my job now.”

He smiles, and he couldn't possibly know how soft his look was, as he gazed at you.

“I...well, people don’t quite believe in us because-”

“WHAT ?! With all the “dates” and kisses and lovey dovey shit we did ?!”

He chuckles at your reaction, loving how honest you always were, and adds :

“The problem apparently is that you weren’t seen with my son yet, so many don’t believe we’re serious.”

“Oh...”

You met Dick. Because it felt like a necessary step to yours and Bruce’s scheme. And you knew he knew this was all fake...But neither of you wanted to confuse the boy in any way so he was kept mostly out of the plan.

“I talked to him, and it’s actually really up to wether you’re comfortable with it or not. I know he wasn’t part of our contract, and I should’ve probably thought about it, I’m sorry. But um...If you’re ok with it, we could..Do things with him, too ?”

Bruce is really nervous; And you’re pretty sure no one but you (and maybe Alfred) ever saw him like that. It’s kind of...sweet. But you let the silence linger for too long and he hurries to say :

“You really don’t have to ! It’s ok if they don’t think we’re that serious and I get some proposals. I can manage ! You’re still a great help right now. It was just an idea. Dick is a very social kid, he would go along with anything and loves to do activities outside. He would be fine. But if you’re not then we can-”

“No. No no it’s...It’s ok Bruce. The few time I saw him, Dick did seem absolutely a peach to be around. And I always have fun with you, so sure, let’s organize a little something and show those bastards we’re totally real.”

You chuckle a little, your smile and carefree face making his heart skip a beat, for some reasons...Bruce also decided to ignore how happy it made him, to know you were always glad to be with him, and instead, he smiled and settled a date.

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

And here you were. In one of Gotham’s biggest park, opening a basket full of delicious sandwiches made by the one and only Alfred. Pretending to have a great family outing.

“Hey, hey look !”

Dick was absolutely amazing, at acting as if you were really a thing. As if you were really a “family”. Right now, he was doing flips and cartwheels, demanding your attention with avidity.

Bruce made sure to always hide his face from pictures (he was GREAT at noticing where paparazzis were hiding, a life of practice, you assumed), as he wanted to keep as much as he could his son’s privacy (especially after he made all the headlines when he lost his parents).

It was quite adorable. And...You were really having fun.

Dick was such a lively kid, and he was full of talents. The food was good, and it was so comfortable around Bruce. It felt so natural.

This wasn't all that bad. To fake being a family. A good use of your gap year, really. 

You purposefully decided to ignore the glint in the boy’s eyes. The way you sort of suspected for him, this was getting real, and not only pretend.

You and Bruce purposefully ignored it, actually. And you both felt shitty for it. Because not only were you risking to break that little boy’s heart when it was all over but...It was too hard to accept that maybe, maybe he was right.

And that all of this ? Might’ve not been as fake as you’d love to repeat yourself.

First Official outing. 

First gala. You were terrified. So far all you had to do was hang out with Bruce in the afternoon, there and there. It mainly consisted in him buying you coffee, and keeping the addiction to caffeine real, while talking about anything that would come to your mind. The conversations between you two was always fluid and pleasant. 

Or you’d go out with him and Dick, to do some fun things like mini-golf or catching a movie. Nothing too big and scary. It was mainly just you guys, no one else. 

It seemed like he knew where the paparazzis would be (most likely because he was “anonymously” tipping them off himself), and he’d take you on random short dates when he had time in between his work, slowly fueling the rumors Bruce was not a heart to steal anymore. 

And that he was dating a “commoner” ! (He hated this name for you, while you really didn’t mind that much). 

And this gala, was what made it completely official. Finally. It was your idea, to take things “slow”, and hang out with him and his son BEFORE hanging out in public areas like this. 

It was clever, really. To make it seems like you were trying to “hide” your relationship by being low-key, to then finally announce everything in public like that, at such an event. 

Bruce went to get a drink for the both of you, and you were looking around you, horrified at the mere idea that someone would come talk to you. 

But for some reasons, nobody seemed to dare. Maybe Bruce made sure that people would leave you alone ? Even as if you were clearly the talk of the evening, all eyes on you, and not even trying to be subtle ? 

You knew he did the same with little Dickie. That he made sure he was safe from the paparazzi and that no unsolicited journalist would come around him.

Thinking of it, where was the little one ? Usually, according to Bruce, whenever there was a gala he would spend his entire time near the food table, eating as much as he could, and he would come home feeling nauseous because of it...Haha sounded like Dick alright. That kid was so-

Oh oh.

Who was that sleazy looking gal talking to him ? He seemed so uncomfortable, yet too polite to brush her off...Oh no, she wasn’t one of them, was she ?

Without thinking twice about it, wether it was your place to do what you were about to do or not, you resolutely walked towards them.

“-Think it’s because he relates to you ? As both of you lost your parents in horrific situations, you know ?”

“I-I don’t know m’am.”

When you saw Dick’s distressed face, and his eyes slowly filling with tears, there was no doubt in your mind.

This woman was not supposed to be there, and was definitely not supposed to talk to that child...

This woman was a - shiver of disgust- tabloid journalist.

Your blood boiled as you saw her take a picture of the teary eyed Dickie, and you were standing protectively in front of him before you could even think about it. When you felt the boy clutch to your sleeve, hiding behind you and holding on for dear life, you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

“Can I ask you why you’re talking to that boy, please ?”

“What, it’s illegal to talk to fellow guests now ?”

“Lady, you’re well in your thirties. He’s eight. You have no right talking to him. Not only is it weird, but I know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, and pray tell, what am I doing, lovey ?” 

“You’re trying to get a story out of him. And you should be ashamed of yourself. He’s eight ! And from what I heard, you were asking some very disgusting things back there !” 

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Your words came out harsh and determined, and the woman was so shocked she stayed silent for a while. You crouch down to Dick’s level, and ask : 

“Are you ok, my little buddy ?” 

He nods weakly, and then burst into tears as he launches himself in your arms, clinging to you tightly. You turn your head towards the woman, glaring at her so fiercely she doesn’t dare to take a picture of the scene, even as she knows she could sell them for a golden price. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child !” 

The woman was about to say something else, something you knew would fuel your anger further, when Bruce arrived, and it was clear from his face that he was not happy. 

A quick look to you holding his crying son in your arms, and to the lady with the camera in her hands, and he understand what happened. With a cold voice you never heard him use before, he says : 

“I suggest you leave the area now, before I force you to.” 

There was something almost scary, in his demeanor. Almost like...No. Impossible. In any case, you didn’t worry about it much, drawing soothing circles with your hand on Dick’s back, trying to calm him. 

People around quickly stopped staring as they met Bruce’s assassin glare. It was not secret, that he was very protective of his son. And of his new girlfriend, apparently. 

You picked the little boy in your arms (Dick, at the time, was still so tiny), and Bruce comes closer, trying to soothe him too. And it really looked like all this was real...

Dick fell asleep in Bruce’s arms shortly after that, and was still there when it was time for the gala official pictures. Not wanting to wake him up, for once, Bruce allowed people to photograph the boy, as long as they did not frame his face. 

He laid his free hand on the small of your back, and just like you got used to those past months, you pretend to be head over heels for him and have one of your own arm around his waist.  

“Would you please allow me to kiss you on the cheek, for the cameras ?”

His question is so sweet, softly whispered in your ears. And you felt like a tease tonight, and maybe a little tipsy too. You tell him : 

“On the cheek only ? Let’s give them a show no ? Let them forget about what happened with Dick.”

Of course, you’re only joking, but there’s a light in Bruce’s eyes you haven’t seen before and...It disappears quickly. He chuckles, of that low chuckles that would charm anyone in the world, and says :

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you wouldn’t want to. Actually kissing me, I realize, might be too much.”

You know he caught on your joke, but you can’t brush off that light in his eyes that ignited when you suggested to kiss him...You don’t know why, and it feels you’re not controlling your own words, as you hear yourself say :

“Oh because kissing you would be such a horrible thing wouldn’t it ? Oh my, you’re only one of the handsomest man in Gotham, a rather attractive fella, how could I handle kissing you ? So disgusting !”

Your tone is teasing, and a little bit challenging. He catches on that, too. He answers : 

“But I am merely here to serve. I will do as you wish. You only have to say the words.” 

His smile fills your vision. His face. And the way he softly holds your waist, even as his other arms is carrying his son (the man was BUILT). And you think...Well, fuck it ! It was time for the first (fake) kiss, right ? 

Right here, in front of the cameras, where everyone was seeing you. Making it go full circle. Making it “official”. 

“Kiss me then, if you dare.” 

You simply say. Releasing a breath you were unaware you were keeping in. And he feels his heart squeeze, and as if he’s sweating a bit. When was the last time he was nervous about kissing a woman ? 

He couldn’t remember. 

And then he kisses you, the flashes of cameras slowly fading away as his lips melt onto yours. 

Wow. What a perfect, and nice, first kiss. 

As fake as it might be.

Your room. 

Your room at Wayne Manor was bigger than your entire apartment. 

You and Bruce decided that sometimes, so you wouldn’t raise any suspicion, you’d sleep at the Manor. Paparazzi were so on top of everything, it would seem weird if he was in a “committed relationship” and you never slept at his place. 

So Alfred settled a room for you. 

Oh. Alfred ! You met him not long ago, and he was the best ! 

It felt like he could magically guess what you wanted when you wanted it, and magically appeared with that warm cup of tea you craved, or that meal you’ve been thinking about all day. 

But beyond that, he was genuinely nice and made sure to make you as comfortable as possible. He showed you around, and his conversation was so pleasant ! 

You could actually see a lot of Bruce in him. Or, rather, it was evident that Alfred had raised Bruce most of his life, because they had a lot of similar mannerism, and were both kind and caring (Ah, imagine if Superman knew what you thought of Bruce, how crazy it’d sound to him eh ? But of course, that you’d discover way WAY later). 

You never went to explore much when it was time to go to bed, too afraid to get lost. This place was huge, and you never quite had a good sense of orientation. 

One could only wonder, what would you have discovered if you ever dared to wake up during the night, and explore his home ?

Build a Bear. 

Sometimes, Bruce really had to wrack his brain for original date ideas. Ever since he came back to Gotham, his dating days consist of pretending to sleep with every model in the World. 

He’d take them to fashion shows, to galas, to charity events...All very public places, unsuitable for a “serious” relationship like he was hoping to make yours and his pass for. 

Enter : Clever little Dickiebird, who always had an idea (and who might’ve been the best wingman someone like the Batman needed...that, of course, he’d discover it way, WAY later) :

“You can take her to a build a bear !” 

“Build...a bear ?” 

“Yeah, you know. You go and you make your own teddy bear !” 

“I do know, I took you to get Chester - the name of Dick’s favorite plushie toy now, and maybe with which he slept-. But...For a date ?” 

“What ? It’s cute and intimate !” 

“Huh ?” 

It has been a long time, since Alfred Pennyworth had to hold his laughter in that hard, and try to stay impeccably neutral. And there, faced with his master Bruce, who was known as the “ultimate womanizer”, the “perfect playboy”, and who was currently taking advice from his eight years old son...It was really hard to keep a straight face. 

It was also incredibly adorable. Especially how Bruce seemed to genuinely listen to the little one, unaware that he seemed actually way too interested for things just to be for his “fake relationship” to be more convincing. 

Not that Alfred was going to tell Bruce anything. 

“Dick, you know (Y/N) isn’t really my girlfriend, right ?” 

The way the boy talked about taking you to a date, felt to Bruce like he was forgetting this was all fake. And it was important to remind him.

But Dick had to invoke all the efforts in the world to not roll his eyes as to say : “sure she isn’t”, by now, it was oh so obvious to everyone but you and Bruce that there was a very real thing forming between you two. 

Instead, he said : 

“But you’re suppose to make the public really believe it right ? If you take her to build a bear, I can assure you they will think you guys are the real deal.” 

Bruce pondered this for a little bit, and realized that his son was right. It did seem like a cute and intimate date to bring your girl to, even if she was your fake girl...

Ah. Bruce forgot his own words. “Dick is great at pretending.” He is. He really is. Just like right now, he was pretending his idea was completely innocent, while he knew it would bring you two ever so closer. 

That whenever you’d see those bears you were going to build in your home, you’d think of one another. And remember fondly of the memory. 

And oh. Oh that boy was right. 

Your bear was sitting proudly on your couch, and every time you saw it, you remembered how clumsy Bruce had been, filling his own bear up. And how cute he was, carefully thinking of his options. 

And every time Bruce saw his own bear, that Alfred, for some reason, settled in the Batcave on the “trophy shelves” (and for some reason Bruce didn’t take it off of it...), he couldn’t help but think how he had genuine fun that day. 

Genuine fun, for the first time in what felt like ages. And how your smiling and giggling face didn’t seem to leave his mind, whenever he saw that bear...

Conniving traitors. 

“We both agree, he’s in love with her right ? He’s just too dense to realize it.” 

“Oh yes, young Master Richard, he definitely is. And he is dense, at times.” 

“Should we do anything ?”

“No more than what you’re already doing.” 

“Which is ?” 

“Which is continuing to push them in the...Right direction.”

“Oh ! I get it ! I’ll keep going Al’!” 

“And I’m sure you’ll make miracles, young master.” 

Dick’s smile to the old butler was so pure and happy, that Alfred had a hard time keeping his composure once again. 

And oh. Oh how he wish they were right, and that his Master Bruce would FINALLY allow himself to be happy... 

Rumors and Truth 

Bruce was just a tiny bit older than you. 24, according to his wikipedia page. 

And you couldn't help but be a little jealous, as you were looking at the page to re-enroll yourself in Gotham’s university, knowing he was done with college.

Then again, he was obviously a genius and would’ve been done faster than you anyway, even if you were the same age, since he finished his PhD just the year before, while most people don't even START their doctorate until they're around 23/24. 

Mmmm. Made you think. Was this just yet another rumors about the man ? 

Maybe not, after all it was proven he started college at age 14, and in Ivy Leagues ones, all across the world. 

From Cambridge, to Oxford, without forgetting La Sorbonne (A/N : by the way, this is canon haha, Bruce really did start college that early and went to many different places, and honestly, is anyone surprised ?). 

This wasn't really something you absolutely couldn't believe, compared to other crazy rumors about him. And you knew he WAS smart. 

By then, you couldn't count how many things were circulating about him, and how hard it was to know the truth from just plain old rumors. 

He had over a thousand lovers, he had MORE than one PhD (impossible, right ?), he had died once but survived somehow, he was part of a cult, he often lost his status as a billionaire because he gave so much money to charities and such, but his companies meddled in so many areas that his bank account was always filled more and more…

Honestly that last part didn't really surprise you. You saw him gave his money away to things he cared about (like education and medical care) without a second thoughts, so the fact he constantly oscillated between "billionaire" and "multi-millionaire" didn't really surprise you, not when you knew him like you did now. 

You totally trusted the rumors that said that by now, he gave away more than he currently owned. It sounded like him alright…But how to know the truth from the downright crazy ? Did he really have a PhD or was this just an addition to how special and different Bruce Wayne was in Gotham ? What kind of PhD did he have anyway ? 1000 lovers, really ?!

So many questions. And not a lot of answers. Even if you grew closer (as friends, of course), Bruce was still somewhat of a mystery to you. 

He never really tried to dismiss rumors, even the bad ones (unless they touched his son). Which made you wonder if they were true or not. And you really, really, for some reasons, wanted to know more about him...

“Is something the matter ?” 

He asks. Oh goddamn you, day dreaming on one of your regular “coffee date”. 

You shake your head, sipping on your drink and say : 

“Was just thinking about...Tabloids.” 

“Ah.” 

He frowns. For understandable reasons.

“I was just thinking about wether some rumors were true or not.” 

“What do you think is not true ?” 

“I don’t really know, and you never really say a rumor is false so it’s hard to know.” 

“Do you want to know anything in particular ?” 

Bruce knows it’s dangerous, to let you enter his private life like that. There’s a reason, after all, why he never dismisses any rumors. 

It helped build his fake persona, and take away any suspicions that he might be the infamous Batman. 

But he felt weak, around you. As if he just wanted to please you, no matter what. Sometimes, he felt dangerously close to just tell you : “ask me anything and I’ll tell you the truth”, even if it meant revealing his night activities...

Crazy, right ? 

He knew it was. And that he shouldn’t let it happen. Yet here he was, asking if you wanted to know something. Craving your attention. It felt so unlike him. But...You seemed to unlock a certain part of him. 

The one that didn’t die with his parents, and remained hidden. The one that was the old little Bruce, full of hope, honesty and happiness. Full of wish for the future...Even if he knew there was none. 

“How was college, for you ?” 

You hear yourself asking, really wondering if it was true he was 14 when he started, and if it was...How different you guys were, right ? You were 21 right now, and taking a gap year after two years of college...When he was your age, he had already finished a master (or even maybe two). 

"My college years were actually pretty boring, and unlike some rumors say, weren't particularly wild. I was really young."

"Ah, I heard the rumors."

"Those are true, I'm afraid haha."

"Afraid ? You're a genius !"

Which is why you found, more and more, his "himbo" persona to be odd. WHat was Bruce Wayne trying to hide ? Mmm…

Bruce recognized that look in your eyes. The look of someone who was onto something, and it was too frightening to let it happen. So he said :

"Yes well, I feel I missed a lot, during those years. Which is why I make it up now hahaha !"

His boisterous laughter seemed genuine, and totally fooled you. You couldn't always be on top of everything eh ? And this, did answer your question about his himbo persona…Oh, Bruce was good.

And he knew it. He trained for years, to make sure nobody would ever even suspect him to be Batman.

But he had to be careful with you. He knew it. It was obvious. You weren't that easy to fool…

The Day Batman saved you. 

The fact he had to be careful with you was confirmed not long after. When, as Batman, he came to your rescue.

He should’ve known, that even with a voice changer, and a mask covering most his face, plus a demeanor that was completely different from his usual one, you’d still get suspicious...He should’ve known because he, by then, knew you quite well. 

But, what ? Was he suppose to just let you get mugged ? 

He couldn’t. 

Even if in the grand scheme of things, it would’ve been better, and he would definitely intervene if it got too rough...He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt, or feeling distressed.

He knew this was stupid. That he shouldn’t get so attached. That muggings weren’t really his area of expertise, that to stop them, he had to hit the big bosses. He knew. Small thugs weren’t his target. He had a much bigger vision. And rationally, he should be somewhere else right now. 

Yet he couldn’t resolve himself to. Because, and that was a dangerous thought and feeling, he was in l- 

“Why are we spying on your girlfriend ?” 

Dick’s voice takes him out of his reveries, good. It WAS getting dangerous. Still keeping you in his field of vision (you were slowly going back to your apartment, a few minutes still, and he could leave to do other things knowing you were safe and sound in your home), he answered :  

“We’re not spying on her, we’re making sure she’s safe. And she’s not my girlfriend, you know that.” 

“Oh yeah ? We’ve been following your “totally not girlfriend” since the night started, awfully looks to me like we’re um, you know, stalking her.”

“We’re not.” 

“Suuuuuuuuuure.” 

Bruce gives an annoyed look to his son, who had way too big a smug face right now, and says : 

“The night is calm, if something comes up we’ll go. But right now, it’s alright. And it has been made official, that she and I are a couple.” 

“Fake couple.” 

“Fake one to us, not to the public eye.” 

“Ooooooh !” 

Connections were quickly made in the boy’s head, and he understood why they were following her. After all, this was Gotham. And if THE Bruce Wayne had ONE known lover...Well, it was easy to know it’d attract some nasty business. 

Dick was about to make a smug remark of which he had a talent for, when it happened. He pointed at you, fear in his eyes, and Bruce focused your way again. 

“Stay here.” 

“What why ?! I wanna help her too !” 

“Because she’s too smart not to put two and two if she sees you with me. She knows us in our day lives. She’ll recognize us for sure, if we’re together.”

“Oh...”

“Just stay still, ok ?” 

“Ok.” 

Without a second thought, Bruce jumped down in the street down below, under Dick’s worried eyes. If anything happened to you, he knew his dad would never be the same again. 

And he knew he couldn’t bear to lose yet another person he cared about. Even loved. Yes. Yes Dick loved you, as if you really were part of his family...

The months of “faking” family outings made it so. Your worst fear happened. Dick was getting attached, hardcore. And he really hoped you and Bruce would figure out you were actually in love with each others before the end of your “contract”, and before his sometimes very dense dad would decide to let you go...

For now though, he was anxiously looking at Bruce making his way to you, after he spotted a suspicious group of men genuinely stalking you. 

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

“Hey pretty girl, can we talk ?” 

You stop in your track, turning around, cursing yourself for not having the instinct to just take off running. Oh. But you can see at least one of them has a gun. You can’t run faster than a bullet... 

“Ah it is you, isn’t it ?” 

You don’t answer, knowing what they mean. Bruce sort of warned you against this. But you didn't take his warnings seriously, and here you were, going home at night, something he definitely told you not to do. 

You just couldn’t sleep that night, and needed a walk...And here you were. 

“You’re gonna come nicely with us, right ?” 

“I dont’ think so.” 

Uh ? You’re pretty sure that weird robotic voice wasn’t yours. Even if that’s exactly what you wanted to say. And that’s...oh wow. 

That’s when you see him. Batman. 

Immediately, the atmosphere grow even tenser. And you can see the thugs who wanted to take you with them fearfully looking at him. 

“This has nothing to do with you Batman, leave us alone, we didn’t do anything wrong !” 

“It has everything to do with me. Leave.” 

“We have to-You don’t understand. We have to take her to-” 

“Nowhere. Leave.” 

Even if he was protecting you, you had to admit that, that dude was frightening. He had his back to you, and even then, he looked so intimidating and tall and broad...

Bruce was tall and broad too. But he was soft and sweet, not scary at all.

“OH MY GOD LOOK OUT !!” 

One of the thug had a gun pointed at Batman. Right at his head. He didn’t have the time to enforce his helmet yet, and if he shot around his mouth, he was done for...

A rock coming out of nowhere hit the thug right in the face. 

Coming out of nowhere ? To you, maybe. But Bruce knew that this was little Dickie’s doing. “Robin always has Batman’s back”, he said often...

For the time being, the one taking his gun out being knocked out triggered a “fight or flight” reaction in the others, and as two took off running (and were mysteriously hit by rocks too, knocking them out), three decided to attack Batman. 

Bad move. 

Very bad move. 

In a matter of second, it was over. 

He turns to you, and it’s hard to discern any emotions with his lighted eyes and mask. He asks : 

“Are you alright, (Y/N) ?” 

“How-How do you know my name ?”

“Well, you’re Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend, right ?” 

There was no hesitation in Bruce’s voice as, as soon as he pronounced your name, he knew he messed up...but he trained himself to think quickly. And this “fake” relationship was a perfect excuse, of course. Everyone in Gotham knew about you two, by now. 

“Oh, right, ok.” 

You seemed a bit disappointed, and Bruce couldn’t quite understand why...

It only hits him later, as he was going to bed, why you looked like that. And it made hi heart beat widely. Because he was pretty sure that it was because you sort of hoped Bruce talked to “Batman about you...Oh...Oh this was getting dangerous. 

But of course, Bruce had a reputation to be the one funding Batman’s gadget (a really good cover for the fact he was actually Batman). So they’d know each others...

But right there and then, as he just saved you, you felt so stupid, hoping that Bruce would’ve talked to you to Batman. Why would he ? How the hell would your name even show up in a conversation between Bruce Wayne and Batman (but oh, if you knew you occupied his thoughts many times, and who he really was, maybe you’d feel less bad ? It was, in a way, Bruce talking about you to Batman, right ?). 

You smiled weakly and shyly at this impressive being in front of you, and thanked him one more time. He nods, smiling too (oh ?), and bid you farewell. 

Ah. But Bruce didn’t notice your eyes go wide, as he took off with his grappling hook, and you caught the side of his face in a certain light...

Fake ?

"You know, he smiles more when you’re around.” 

Dick tells you once, you look at him curiously, as he continues : 

“And before you say it’s “all pretend”, let me tell you there’s a difference between this smile and the fake one. Look, that’s how he pretend.” 

On that note, he looked at you and smiled widely, exaggeratedly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. And it was so like how Bruce portrayed himself in public, that it made you chuckle. 

It also scared you a little. 

Not because there was a possibility Bruce did smile more around you, but because as that little boy was being silly, and now imitating his adopted father further and oh so perfectly...You felt a surge of love for him. 

And that wasn’t good. 

Because the day, which was coming soon now, you’d have to “dump” Bruce Wayne, you wouldn’t be able to see that little one again...why would you ? 

It’d be too weird, right ? Someone like you, once “broken up”, would have no reasons or ways to ever interact with billionaire Bruce Wayne or his son ever again. 

That little boy was the sweetest child you ever met. He suffered a great loss so early in his life, and there he was, making you laugh and being nice by saying you made his dad genuinely smile. 

It hurt, to know that one day, you wouldn’t see him again. That he’d grow up, and you wouldn’t know what he became. 

You were sure he was destined to become a great man, and you wished you could see it...No. No this was bad. This was so bad. 

“I mean it you know.” 

His little voice brings your attention back to him. 

“I think you make him happy. With you, it feels he can be himself. He laughs more, really laughs. And it’s often that he tells me “oh this makes me think of (Y/N)” and calls you. He doesn’t need to call you for the fake relationship thing, right ? Yet he does. That means something. I think he likes you.” 

You shake your head, smiling at this little boy’s wild imagination. No way. No way was THE Bruce Wayne falling for you in any way. Were you guys becoming real friends ? Sure. But it definitely stopped there. Right ?

Oh but if only you knew Dick had a knack to see this kind of things, and to guess people’s real feelings. If only you knew, that yes, Bruce was starting to fall for you...It would make the next episode way less painful for you. 

“Catch me dead before you catch me catching feelings” - You to yourself, a few days before starting a fake relationship with THE Bruce Wayne. 

“Fuck you” - You to yourself, almost six months in faking a relationship with Bruce Wayne. 

This was...bad. 

Soon enough, you and Bruce will break this entire deal off, you will “dump” him, and you’d go on your separate ways. And...

This was bad. 

Why ? WHY COULDN’T YOU JUST HANG OUT WITH THIS AMAZING CHARMING MAN AND THAT’S IT ? Why ? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GET OUT THERE AND CATCH....

Catch...

Catch those body shivering “feelings”. 

Not just for Bruce though. But for the little buddy too. 

You felt yourself fall for Bruce slowly, and as if it was completely out of your control. But you also felt like if Dick wasn't in your life anymore...You wouldn’t feel whole again. Like he was sort of your son, too, by then. 

This was so bad. How did you get yourself in this mess ? What was that FIRST rule you gave yourself when all this started ? 

Right, “Catch me dead before I catch feelings”. Damn it. 

Thanks GOD the “marrying season” was finally coming to an end. Both you and Bruce settled you’d wait a few weeks after it to make your break-up official, so nobody would be tempted to cancel any wedding plans to try and force their daughter onto him.  

And it couldn’t happen soon enough. 

Being around him now, faking being in love, was torture to you. 

Kissing him knowing he felt nothing. Holding his hand in public while you knew in your heart he was just putting a show still. And hanging out with him feeling that you had absolutely no chance of this ever evolving...

It hurt.

It hurt so bad. 

And you were slowly hoping you never agreed to being his fake girlfriend. Being a living cliche, the money and the fame were REALLY not worth the heartache. 

So not worth it...

The end...?

"Well mister Wayne, it has truly been a pleasure to be your "girlfriend" haha. Seriously, I had a lot of fun, and a little revenge on life. You know, I saw Eric and Monica not long ago. They tried to become my friends again, knowing I was with you. It was great, to ignore them like they ignored them. You’re right, they’re really not worth it. And honestly I still don’t think we’re even after they hurt me like they did but...In the end, they looked so outraged. Win-win, really. Thank you very much."

"Thank YOU, for playing along and doing more than you bargained for. You really saved me a lot of hassle and…I had fun, too."

Your taxi was pulling in front of the Manor, and honked as he parked. Clearly, not a very patient driver.

"Well, see you around, Bruce ! If you're not too busy, you know…I kinda consider you a friend by now ?"

"Me, too."

Bruce lied. A "friend" ? No, it couldn't cover and explain all his feelings for you. A "friend". How ridiculous.

As you walked away, giving him a last smile, Bruce felt a pang in his chest.

A painful and yet happy one. A longing one. One that told him that "friend" wasn't what he wanted to be…Not anymore…

But was there really a future for you and him ? Probably not. His nightly activities would get in the way. You deserve more than the life he could give you. Being his "fake" girlfriend, you only took part in his public matters. Part in a fake world full of nice things, that was far from his actual life.

"Friend", he wished he could be more to you than this.

But he knew.

He knew that for your own good, he had to stay away. And oh, oh how he wished he could be more than just your "friend" or "fake" boyfriend. 

Yet he watched as you walked away. Without doing anything. 

He watched you leave, and felt the hole in his heart expand a little more. But didn’t try to catch you, or stop you from leaving. 

And your taxi was already far, now. On its way to Gotham. 

"So you gonna run after her oooor…??"

Dick's little voice takes him out of his reveries.

“Mmm ?” 

“(Y/N). Are you gonna run after her, or stand there looking like a sad puppy for the rest of your life ?” 

“I do not look like a sad puppy.” 

“Yes you do, and you know it. Come on dad, why are you doing this ?” 

This was the first time Dick called him dad. Which didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce. It meant...It meant something was definitely happening. He felt it in his heart. Something that was dangerous. Oh so dangerous. 

Hope. Like the “old Bruce” had. Hope. Full of it. Before his parents were murdered in front of him, for no reasons. Meaningless. 

Hope. 

To have a family again. Ah. But...Being with you was impossible. And Dick would be enough. He would. He was already enough... 

“How long are ya gonna torture yourself exactly ?” 

That boy was too smart for his own good. Bruce said : 

“I’m not. I just...I can’t be with her.” 

“I cAn’T bE wITh hEr !! ...Why ?!” 

“You saw what happened, when it was made official we were together. She almost died.” 

“And you saved her. Your point being ?” 

“Dick...”

“Don’t -he takes a mock Bruce voice- “Dick” me mister ! You’re afraid to be happy, and I won’t have it. You gave me another chance to have a family. A dad. And I’m not about to let my dad punish himself for feeling good. You told me yourself my parents would like for me to be happy. Well yours would too, you big idiot ! So now, you listen to me.” 

Dick, meaning business, jumps on the stairs’ bannister to sort of be on eye level with Bruce, and says, pointing his finger at him : 

“You take one of those fancy useless sport car, and you run after her. Capish ?” 

There’s a moment of silence. During which Bruce is unsure of what to do. And then...Then he smiles at his son. 

His son. 

“Capish”, he simply says, and he rushes towards the garage’s entrance, under Dick’s happy look. 

Success. 

Bruce’s car was leaving the estate, when Alfred joined Dick at the front door. 

“You did it, Master Richard.” 

“I hope I did !” 

“Oh you did. You did. Thank you. Thank you for taking care of my son...”

Dick turned to Alfred, who couldn’t keep a straight face this time. Small tears gathered in the old man’s eyes, and sweet little Dick did not hesitate one second before jumping into his arms and giving him one of his famous “Grayson special” hug. 

It’s real. 

Back to square one. 

You. A bad day. Looking like a mess (this time not because of the rain, but because you cried a lot). Your gap year almost over and still not knowing who you were. With no coffee, but at least, you had a tub of ice cream. 

You already missed Bruce. And Dick. And Alfred. 

You couldn’t believe those six months of “faking” would end up meaning so much to you, and feel so devastating as they ended. 

You wish you had never met Bruce. And that you’d been ridiculed by Eric and Monica, that your life would still be pathetic...Pathetic maybe, but at least, your heart wasn’t completely shattered. 

You don’t hear the hurried knocks on your door, at first. Entranced by your own sadness. It’s only when they become loud and insistant you react. 

You really hope it’s not a journalist. They sort of tried to talk to you so many times, since you “dumped” Bruce...You knew he made sure that they’d stay away, but some were particularly persistent. 

Including that awful woman from the charity, who was asking Dick those horrible questions. “Vicky Vale”, was her name, apparently. What a witch. 

Clearly, the knocking wasn’t gonna go away, so you stood up, settled your tub of ice cream on your coffee table, and went to the door, ready to fight if need be. 

But there was no need for fights. 

At least, not in the literal sense of the term. 

“Bruce ?” 

He seems out of breath. Incredible, given how in shape he was. He doesn’t really leave you any time to say anything else, as he blurts out :

“I was wrong.”

He blurts out out of nowhere, and you’re even more confused. Before you could ask what was all this about, he adds : 

“I was wrong. When I said you were the right person because you were “normal”. You’re everything, BUT “just a regular person”. You’re the most fantastic woman I’ve ever met. You decided to help a total stranger just because. I know I helped you before, but it doesn’t compare to what you did for me. Especially on a matter that seems so silly to me now. You put yourself in a very awkward position for someone you didn’t even know. In front of the public, for a guy like me. You knew I was a “playboy”, and that I could very well use you. Yet you still put up with it. You accepted my son, even as you didn’t have to. Even as, just like me, you are so young. You were nice to Dick, even if all you needed to do was pretend. You’re...You’re...You’re just something else entirely. It feels like you know me, the real me. Like you can read my very soul. Like you’re the only one for me. I’ve known for a long time. I ignored it because I was afraid of what that meant but...but a certain little one made me realize this was time. It’s time to move on. It’s time to allow myself to be happy. And so, here I am.”

Was this...it ? The point of your gap year ? To discover that finding yourself...Meant finding your soulmate ? 

It sounded silly. While at the same time, not. Because you felt it. You felt it deep within you. From the moment Bruce handed you that twenty dollars bill, fate was in motion. 

You meeting Eric and Monica wasn’t bad luck. It was the opposite. It was the Universe’s push towards your real Destiny. 

Towards Bruce. 

“You’re not saying anything. Is this bad ? Or does it mean I blew your mind away ? I’m clearly hoping for the latter...”

Over the months, you discovered how huge of a dork Bruce Wayne could be. Even as if there was often a darkness right behind his smiles. Deep within his eyes. You discovered he wasn’t always this cocky arrogant man he portrayed himself to be while in public. How he was actually pretty funny and oh so empathetic. How...How so many things, the list seemed endless in your mind. 

And it only added to everything, that he looked so unsure. And so you smile. You just smile at him. And everything you feel is in that smile. 

You don’t even realize you’re holding each others now, and that you’re kissing...

It’s not pretend this time. 

A real first kiss. 

Though maybe all your kisses until now weren’t as fake as you pretended them to be. 

In any case, this, right now, is a real kiss alright. 

A real one. 

Full of all the pent up emotions. Free of all the fear and hurt you both felt as you realized you were in love with the other one, yet you thought things were all “fake”. 

Because it wasn't fake. It wasn’t. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t know who said it first. You, or him. You felt so in sync, that it didn’t matter. What is sure, is that you both said it. Before you closed the door to your apartment, leading him in. 

Before you spend the night in each other’s arms.

Bruce not even thinking about going out as Batman..

For the first time in years, he decided to fully embrace being happy. 

“You always told me my parents would wish for me to be happy, well yours too !” Dick said. And oh, he was so right.

By the way, I’m Batman. Surprise. 

“It’s not like I didn’t know, you know.” 

“Huh ?” 

Oh. Oh the delight to see that surprised expression on Bruce’s face. It was quite a rare one, really. And as he finally gathered the courage to tell you who he really was, risking losing you in the process but wanting to show you his full self...

It was particularly delightful. 

“Busted you on that night you saved me. As if I wasn’t going to recognized that jawline.” 

“Wait, really ? I really thought you bought my lies !” 

“Well now, you know not to underestimate me.” 

“I...Do.”

A natural smile reaches his face, and he approaches you, pulling you to him, and laying a soft kiss on your lips. Feeling fully accepted and loved, like never before. And he could see you-

“Oh NO EWWWWWW !!!” 

You pull away from Bruce’s kiss (noticing his slow grumble, displeased to lose  your warmth), and look at little Dickie (your son too, now !), staring at you two, looking disgusted. 

“Get a ROOOOM !!” 

This makes you laugh. A lot. And oh. Oh how would you ever guess, in that moment, that one day, this “get a room !!” said in such a disgusted tone would be the trademark of your children (SIX OF THEM) whenever they’d see you and Bruce display any sort of affection to one another ? 

You couldn’t guess, of course. But even in that moment, as you softly laughed, in Bruce’s arms, while looking at your son now making exaggerated noises and acting silly, you knew this...

This was what you’ve been looking for during this gap year. 

This was who you were. 

Right there. 

At the heart of a loving family, even if right now, it was just the three of you (four, let’s not forget Alfred !). 

The end. 

_________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you liked it ? I feel particularly nervous about this one haha. Don’t hesitate to leave a little comment and reblog :),  It’s always greatly appreciated, and encouraging :D. Thanks in advance, and see you soon with a new story ! 

[mistaeq]

Hope u don't mind me requesting again but I was wondering if u could do headcanons for the crusaders with a reader who likes to quote memes or vines like when she's got an idea of some sort she's just like "oh yeah, big brain time" or they're in a fight with an enemy she's like "I'ma bad b*tch you can't kill me", I just wanna see their reaction to someone with that chaotic energy (sorry if this doesn't make sense ':>)

Stardust Crusaders: With a s/o who Quotes Memes and Vines

TW // none

Thank you for your request! I genuinely had a lot of fun writing this idea for these five dorky men <3 enjoy!

Stardust Crusaders with a s/o who's often quoting memes and Vines, had to be fem!s/o, but I didn't need to point out reader's gender while writing, so it turned out kinda neutral.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

KUJO JOTARO

He's annoyed by your habit most of the time, but he can't deny that sometimes the result is pretty hilarious, above all when you happen to do it when fighting against enemy stand users.

Jotaro was trying to figure out a way to attack without being noticed, to make sure it could be effective and quick, when he heard you whisper "Big brain time", and the second after, you suddenly screamed at the top of your lungs, yeeting your stand against the enemy stand user.

"YOU'RE TRYING TO FUCK WITH MY HOMIES RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?" screeching more or less the same way Stroheim would have done years ago, you guide your attack, your stand successfully making the enemy retire.

He tries to look annoyed and pissed, but you still managed to win, and he must admit he's a proud boyfriend. Jotaro is silently complimenting you, in his mind. Still, he scolds you. You acted in an irresponsible way and you could get really hurt.

When you see him so pissed over your behavior, all you manage to do is trying to ignore him. "Y/n, I'm not done with you." you usually shrug. "...Hi Not Done With You, I'm y/n."

Sometimes you both wonder how did such different people like you two end up together. But to be honest, Jotaro getting worried over you is something you enjoy, and seeing you so confident in your fighting skills makes Jotaro feel all proud and relieved you're not breaking down.

JOSEPH JOESTAR

He doesn't really know what these hilarious sentences are, but hearing you quoting them always gives him a reason to say he's in a good mood despite the pressure DIO puts on your lives.

The six of you were on your way to Pakistan, just before your fight with Wheel Of Fortune, and you were sitting right next to Joseph. Out of boredom, you both were reading the road signs, and you took the occasion to be yourself.

"Road Work Ahead..." Joseph read out loud. You snorted, and rested your head on your hand, smiling at him, and answering, whispering to not to annoy your fellow crusaders. "Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does." The man loudly laughed, scaring Polnareff who was driving.

Unfortunately, after that hilarious moment, you got really hurt in the fight against Wheel Of Fortune, and before even thinking of driving a kilometer more, they had to be sure you were okay. You really looked dead.

Much to Joseph's relief, after he pulled you up from the ground, holding you tight in his arms and caressing your hair a couple of times, you opened your eyes. And noticed his ones were almost teary. Did he get that much scared?

You immediately smiled, not wanting to see him like that. You pulled a thumb up, a smug grin on your face. "I'm a bad bitch, he can't kill me." the man laughed, tenderly kissing your forehead and letting you back in the car.

MUHAMMAD AVDOL

He knows what those quotes are. Avdol doesn't really mind them, he finds those genuinely funny. But he minds them when you fuck up your protection just because you want to quote those.

He particularly remembers that time you were with Polnareff, when a clone of Avdol himself and a clone of Jean's sister, Sherry, were created by an enemy stand user. He was watching the two of you from afar, just before joining you and saving you. As soon as you saw the clone of your boyfriend, you eyed at Polnareff.

"Are you telling me you asked for THIS thing, Jean? This is not Avdol, this is some flesh without his feelings! This bitch's EMPTY!" your strong stand picked up the clone, and threw him violently on the ground, over Polnareff's head. "YEET!"

When you did that, it took no time for the clone to rip off a bite of your leg, and you couldn't express how much it hurt. When you learnt that the actual Avdol was there too, much to Polnareff's surprise since he didn't know anything, you immediately scolded your boyfriend.

"You could come and help a little sooner... mother trucker, dude. That bite hurt like a buttcheek on a stick." Avdol stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before bursting into a laughter with you, kissing your lips. "I missed you so much, babe."

Avdol spent the following twenty minutes in checking on you and making sure you had no more severe wounds that could interfere with your trip to Egypt. He's pretty apprehensive, when it comes to you.

KAKYOIN NORIAKI

He totally knows what those quotes are and laughs with you on those. It's likely for you and Noriaki to understand each other and communicate through memes and Vine quotes. It happens to be useful to talk without enemies understanding you.

The crusaders have plenty of war flashbacks of you and Kakyoin acting weird because of those. For example, the time you were walking with your boyfriend, along with Jotaro and Anne. You genuinely tried to hold back from quoting vines around Jotaro, but as soon as a man threw a paper on the ground and not in the bin, you two screamed.

"WHOEVER THREW THAT PAPER, YOUR MOM'S A HOE!" that's one of the reasons that pushed Jotaro and Anne to isolate themselves from the actual Kakyoin and the actual you, being attacked by Rubber Soul afterwards.

Rubber Soul and his fellow enemy stand users were an infuriating thing for you and Kakyoin. Last time you had a talk together, understanding they were only serving DIO for money, you found yourselves pissed off. Like for real.

"We here not having the money for some chicken nuggets and still helping Jotaro and Mr. Joestar for FREE and y'all want a hundred thousand dollars from a naked vampire? Not gonna happen, Karen!"

You're able to bring out the loudest part of Noriaki, since none of the crusaders like the same stuff of this type the way he does. You often call each other "dude" or "bitch" - regardless of your genders, in fact you called him a bitch several times -, even if you're an actual couple.

JEAN PIERRE POLNAREFF

He doesn't really know what those quotes are, but he finds it hilarious when you say them, and gets interested in it, so that he can get the reference when you repeat those. He starts saying those too, afterwards.

It happened when you met Hol Horse, a fast, precise bullet coming towards you, as you and Polnareff moved a little, but enough for the bullet to get in the little space between you, leaving you safe and sound. It had scared you, you weren't gonna lie, and in both your minds, a perfect vine quote appeared.

"Ah, stooop. We coulda dropped our croissant." if that quote wasn't perfect to be said with your boyfriend... nothing else could ever be. You both laughed, as Hol Horse realized he was alone against two people, and before you could say anything more, he was running away.

Teaching vine and memes quotes to Polnareff is the cutest thing ever, because you know he's gonna use them sometime, with your fellow crusaders or with enemies. But he doesn't have a great memory, and will need your help.

"Next time you put your fuckin' hands on me, imma fucking... babe help." no wonder Enyaba was staring at you two with a scared and confused look on her face. "...rip your face off..." you helped him. "...rip your face off." Polnareff repeated. "...bitch." you added, whispering. "Putain." you choked on your breath, did Jean fucking say bitch in french?

Polnareff has no chill, if you're willing to risk it all for a vine quote, he'll fucking do it with you, no matter what. Jotaro wants you two dead.

[calaofnoldor]

Fake It ‘Til You Make It

Characters: Sam x Reader (gender neutral), Dean

Words: 3,295

Summary: Dean and his lady of the night are being obnoxiously loud, so you and Sam devise a plan of retaliation.

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, wee bit o’ language, mutual pining and other fun tropes

A/N: thank you for all the love and support on “Dean, Don’t” (there will be a sequel due to positive feedback!) tbh, i’m not sure how i feel about this one, but every single like, comment, and reblog is always super-duper appreciated!

MASTERLIST

Another hunt for the books, another bar tab for your fake credit card. Another leggy blonde for Dean, and another evening spent harboring your secret yet ever-growing crush for Sam Winchester. This was becoming a pattern lately.

You'd decided to join the brothers on their last several hunts after bumping into (and nearly decapitating) Dean in a vamp-infested warehouse in Colorado. That night, you bought him a beer to recompense, but he was rather swiftly distracted by the busty barmaid, and you ended up talking to Sam all night instead.

There was an instant chemistry between the two of you, what with your shared passion for monster lore and college dropout histories, conversation always flowed easily and often without end.

Tonight had been no different, from the moment you walked into the rundown bar in Iowa, and immediately placed a bet on the fate of Dean's evening entertainment.

"Twenty bucks says he goes home with that blonde in the red dress over there," you jerked your head towards the woman in question.

"Oh, you're so on L/N. She's way too classy for him. My money's on that short one over there with the space buns."

"Deal," you shook on it, while struggling to ignore the spark his touch ignited.

Three beers in and you had almost completely forgot about your bet, until Dean swaggered over with one arm draped casually around the shoulders of his blonde conquest. "We're gonna head out for the night, see you guys later."

You waited until the front door closed behind them before turning to Sam with a triumphant grin. "Pay up, Winchester," you held your hand out expectantly.

“How are you so good at that? I’m the one who’s been watching him my whole life.” He shook his head with amiable amusement while digging out a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket.

You shrugged a little, “You learn to read people fairly quickly on the job.”

“Y/N, we have the same job.”

You pretended to ponder this fact for a moment, your brows furrowing, “I guess I’m just a better hunter then?” It was an obvious jest, and you both knew it, as evidenced by the wide, matching smiles that broke out across both your faces.

God, how you loved his smile, especially the genuine ones that brought out his dimples and lit up his eyes, but even more so, you adored any smile behind which you were the cause. Those you stored amidst your most cherished memories and replayed in your mind a hundred times over on nights when the insomnia hit… Oh no, had you been staring for too long?

Abruptly, you turned towards the bartender, waving the newly acquired bill in your hand, and proceeded to order the next round.

Fortunately, the night carried on with its jovial tone, and you were almost able to disregard the desire to touch Sam’s veiny forearms when he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid, or the need to run your hands through his luscious locks whenever a wayward strand fell before his glimmering eyes.

“I guess we should head out soon. Dean’s probably gonna want to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Right, yeah.” At this point, you were feeling a little woozy from the alcohol, and Sam’s hands were suddenly grasping your biceps as you rose unsteadily from the barstool.

“I’m OK,” you laughed it off, but instantly missed the warmth of his palms that seemed to seep through your clothes and set your skin alight. Sam simply smiled at you, yet something in his eyes was so resplendent you felt goosebumps replace the fire along your arms. You must have been staring again, for Sam looked away somewhat embarrassedly and asked if there was something on his face.

Ugh, why did he have such an effect on you? You’d been around plenty of male hunters in the past, some nearly just as attractive, but you’d always managed to keep your wits about you. Indeed, your unrelenting rationality was usually a subject of pride for you, yet here you were, a blubbering mess after a mere touch on the arm and that stupid smile.

Looking down, you grumbled a quick apology and a senseless explanation that involved blaming the booze before you took off.

Sam followed after you, but not before double checking that you had grabbed all your belongings. There was a strong and instinctive urge to look after and protect that stirred within him whenever you were around, and he couldn’t neglect it if he tried.

It wasn’t that you were weak and needed someone to look out for you. Sam knew you’d been more or less hunting on your own for years now, and could certainly roll with the best of them, himself and Dean included. No, Sam knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, yet he still could not brush the nagging need to keep you safe and by his side whenever possible.

At times, he felt as if a spell had overcome him and he was no longer in control of his senses when it came to you. It was annoying, really.

Tonight, for instance, Sam could have sworn he spent the better part of your time at the bar glaring down any man who came within three feet of you, foolishly daring to try their chances with you. He was sure you’d notice his strange behavior at some point, but you simply talked the night away with him, smiling that stupendous smile, the one that made him lose his breath.

Everything about you enchanted him, and Sam often found himself wishing he could just dive in and kiss you, hold you in his arms and never let you go. He was sure you could read it all in his eyes by now.

To his disappointment, however, you never gave any indication of reciprocation, always treating him in a strictly platonic manner, whether intentionally or out of ignorance, Sam didn’t know. But he never dared make a move, and he convinced himself that he felt fortunate enough to have you as a friend.

The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, although Sam took deliberately small steps to prolong your time together. When you reached the brothers’ room, your eyes fell upon a grey sock dangling unceremoniously from the doorknob. So Dean had taken Blondie to his motel room.

“How’s that for classy?” you looked up at Sam with a small smirk.

He let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head while staring at the sock. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he spent a night in the Impala.

“Hey, why don’t you just come over to my room,” you suggested as you motioned next door, “We can chill in there for a bit, wait it out?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to your face. All he had to hear was “come over to my room,” and his brain immediately began imagining all the potential scenarios those five little words could lead to… if you felt even an inkling of what he felt for you. He gulped and tried to reel his thoughts in, meeting your gaze with a dreamy look.

“Um… yeah, OK, sure, yeah. That sounds good. I mean, you sure you don’t mind?” he stumbled out.

You laughed that brilliant laugh, “No, I should probably sober up a little before I sleep anyway.”

Sam nodded, afraid of what words might escape if he opened his mouth again, and the two of you made your way towards the adjacent motel room. He watched as your delicate hands worked the key and instantly took note of the angry red scrapes and cuts along your palm when you turned your wrist to unlock the door.

Brows knit with concern, Sam silently berated himself for failing to take better care of you. He remembered you took a nasty fall when the ghost had thrown you aside to get to the brothers as they burned the necklace that tethered it to this realm. You must have landed on the concrete and braced yourself with your hands.

As you both stepped into the dim and modest room, Sam was about to ask for your first aid kit when you suddenly brought your arms overhead and stretched out your lithe body with a soft, satisfactory grunt. When the hem of your shirt rode up, Sam had to look away to stop himself from staring at the anti-possession tattoo that peeked out above your hip bone. Just that sliver of skin was so alluring to him; he really was in deep.

When you lowered your arms back down, you sent him a small, apologetic smile, “Sorry, it just always feels good to do that after a hunt and a night out in town.”

Sam nodded again, still finding it difficult to come up with the right words, but then he remembered his previous mission. “Give me your hand.”

“W-what?” you stuttered, dumbfoundedly. It was your turn to wonder if you’d heard right.

“Your hand, let me see it.” He repeated, and this time he simply caught your wrist and took your hand gingerly in his, turning it such that your palm faced up, so he could examine the extent of the damage.

“Oh,” you breathed out, slightly relieved, “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” You tried to pull your hand out of his intoxicating grip, but he held on quite firmly.

“Y/N, we need to clean these and bandage them so they don’t get infected.”

He had pulled you rather close to him, to the point where you could feel his body heat emanating towards you, and you hated to admit the proximity was really messing with your mind. All you could think about was the deliciously muscled torso that surely lay beneath those layers of cotton, and what it would feel like to run your hands across it.

Sam took advantage of your lack of response and led you to sit on the edge of the bed. As he went to look for the first aid kit, you couldn’t help but admire his backside, especially when he bent over to rummage through your duffle bag in the corner.

When he returned to your side, you quickly closed your jaw and reached over for the cleaning supplies, but he held it out of your reach and grasped your hand again instead. Your eyes met for moment, and almost as if on cue, a loud, lascivious moan came through the room’s thin walls.

Sam felt his cheeks heat up, and hastily averted his gaze. He mentally cursed his brother’s wanton ways, but when he heard your giggling, all was forgiven.

“I guess someone’s having a good time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think this’ll be quite as enjoyable for you.” He motioned to the alcohol in his other hand with a sheepish smile, “I probably don’t need to tell you this is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head slightly, but still winced a little when he poured the disinfectant over your wounds.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sam sounded truly remorseful and you chuckled.

“What are you sorry for? It’s not like you threw me to the ground, and besides, you’re helping me now,” you murmured softly.

“Well you did get in it’s way to protect m- us. And I don’t like to see you in pain.”

He meant ‘people’ of course, you told yourself in vain. He’s obviously a nice guy and he doesn’t like to see anyone in pain. That’s why he’s a hunter. Duh.

You were trying, unsuccessfully, to slow your heart rate when another emphatic cry came from the direction of the older Winchester’s room.

“Oh! Oh my god!” The high pitch had your eyes widening.

“You can call me Dean, sweetheart,” came the muted reply.

You and Sam both rolled your eyes before he continued to treat and bandage your hand. His fingers, though rough, were improbably gentle against your skin and frequently sent shivers down your spine. It was all making you quite jittery and you really weren’t sure you could take it much longer. To exacerbate things, Dean and Blondie managed to vocalize their passions on at least five more occasions by the time Sam completed his work.

It was becoming rather aggravating, particularly because you found it extraordinarily hard to look Sam in the eyes or maintain a normal conversation with him when you were constantly getting bombarded by the sounds of his brother and his lady of the night copulating next door.

You stood as soon as Sam let go of your hand, needing to release some energy. “You know what, we can’t just let them dick us around like this all night!”

Sam laughed at your word choice and looked up at you, a fond curiosity shining through his eyes, “OK, but what could we possibly do to get back at them?”

You paused your pacing for a minute, racking your brain for an answer to their impudence. Sam watched as a gleam appeared in your eyes and a mischievous smile took over your features.

“I’ve got it! My friend and I used to do this back in college when our roommate brought dates home and they got a little too carried away. It’s basically a game of chicken.”

Sam raised his brow in question so you continued, “If they’re gonna be obnoxiously loud with their fornication rituals, then we can go at it too.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. An eye for an eye. We don’t even have to make it sound real, just as long as it’s equally loud and disturbing.”

“Y/N, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? That we pretend to have s-sex?” Sam was feeling considerably dubious about your plan, as he couldn’t imagine himself holding back if you were to act in any way sensual around him, even if it was all make believe.

Just then, another resounding squeal of pleasure travelled to your ears and before Sam could stop you, you took the opportunity to show him what you were talking about.

“Oh! Yes!” You exclaimed salaciously in return.

Sam’s eyes grew as he stared at you in disbelief. Your own eyes were closed and your face contorted to an expression of intense pleasure that Sam had only dreamed about. He couldn’t stop fidgeting in his place on the bed, thankful that the first aid kit still sat on his lap as he adjusted his trousers a bit.

“Y/N, I don’t-“

“Come on, Sammy, join me! Trust me, it works every time.”

Sam didn’t have time to contemplate how much he loved the sound of his childhood nickname rolling off your tongue because a second howl came from the next room, this time lower in pitch, though you were there to answer regardless. “Oh my gosh, yes! Right there!”

If Sam thought the effect that you had on him normally was overwhelming, he was undoubtedly unprepared for the way his body responded to you making ludicrously pornographic sounds not two feet from him. Everything seemed to disappear around him until only you remained and held the entirety of his focus.

“Ooh, faster! Harder, Sam!”

Fuck. You said his name. And you said it with lust in your voice. It was as if all his fantasies had come to life before him in some twisted and desperately maddening form. Something in him snapped, and before he knew it, he was standing across from you, staring fixedly at your face, as you shouted in unison.

“Ungh! Oh god, Y/N!”

“Yes, that’s it! Don’t stop!”

Sam’s deep voice compelled your eyes to snap open. He was already looking straight at you, and you could almost taste the tension.

“Oh, baby! You feel so good!”

You didn’t join him this time. You couldn’t. He had you in a trance, his lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, the way his chest moved towards you when he inhaled, the sheer size of him. It was all too much. So you simply stared, feeling your breath come and go faster than you were used to.

There was a split second, or perhaps it was a lifetime, in which the two of you stood still, eyes locked in a fiery exchange, but in the next instant you both lunged forward, lips and teeth and noses and bodies clashing in a passionate, long-awaited display of carnal thirst.

But the kiss ended far too soon for your liking. “Wait, wait, Y/N. I really want this, but you’re probably still drunk, and I don’t wanna take advantage of you or the situation.” Sam panted hurriedly.

You smiled at his chivalry yet shook your head in disagreement, “Sam, don’t be an idjit. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober, and I definitely haven’t wanted anything more than this, right now.” Your voice was just as breathy.

Sam moved his hands back to your face and that glorious, dimpled smile returned, “Baby, are you sure?”

The nickname brought a flutter to your heart, “Yes, I swear to heaven and hell, if you don’t kiss me again, Sam Winchester-“

His lips cut yours off in another bruising yet completely satisfying declaration of need. Your back arched and he brought one hand down to pull your waist flush against his solid form.

“Mmph,” you moaned against his mouth.

God, Sam couldn’t handle the sounds you made. A man could only hold back for so long. His enormous moose hands frantically grabbed at your ass, hoisting you into his arms in no time and carrying you back towards the bed.

Let’s just say Dean and Blondie truly had no idea of the spectacular and thunderous show they were in for.

The next morning, Sam awoke with a warm weight on his chest. He looked down to find your slumbering form nuzzled against him, head tucked beneath his chin and legs messily intertwined. A fond smile crossed his face as he subconsciously tightened his hold on you and pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. The feeling of elation didn't fade as he closed his eyes to rest again, but it did recede ever so slightly to the backburner when the door clicked and his brother came barging in. “Alright, rise and shine, lovebirds! That was quite the show you guys put on last night, hope it didn't-“ “Shhh! Dean, shut up!” Sam shushed his brother with a stage whisper whilst scrambling to cover your bare back with the disheveled sheets surrounding you, but Dean had already glimpsed the evidence. “Sammy, you sly dog!” He wiggled his brows, grinning proudly at his little brother, "And here I thought I was the only one who got laid last night." “Dean, get out.” "Yeah ok, I'm gone," he raised his hands in assent. "But tell your sweetheart we're leaving in twenty," Dean added before he finally let the door shut behind him.

His sweetheart. Sam sure liked the sound of that. The corners of his lips struggled not to raise with glee. "Mm, was that Dean?" you mumbled against Sam's chest, fingers tracing the ink of his anti-possession tattoo with half-lidded eyes. "Yeah, just came to tell us we're leaving in twenty." He gave your hip a gentle squeeze "He knows, doesn’t he?" You rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Sam chuckled at your adorably sleepy state. “Yeah, sorry…” he trailed off, unsure of how you would respond to the news.

“Well, don’t be. That just means I get to do this whenever I want.” You lifted your head to kiss him hard, and his hands instinctively cradled your face, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap and completely awake.

“You know, I think we still have about 15 minutes.”

“I like the way you think, Winchester.”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading! i’d now like to apologize for this obligatory self plug, but there’s new stuff available at lexicolor.redbubble.com, just fyi :)

[matthewtkachuk]

forgive me - rafe cameron

you’re ready to forgive Rafe, but first you’re going to make him work for it, sequel to ignore me

warnings: smutty smut smut (sorry not sorry), oral (female receiving), penetrative sex, lil bit of cockwarming (for @anxietyandtacos)

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 2.9k

a/n: in honor of me hitting 700, here’s the long-awaited sequel to ignore me, i hope yall enjoy 😏 (lowkey this isn’t proofread, sorry not sorry)

Rafe Cameron was the most annoying person on the planet, he was persistent and determined and so goddamn stubborn. He didn’t like to take no for an answer, and he knew every button of yours to press, and boy did he enjoy pressing them. He would pick and prod and poke until it drove you absolutely crazy and you had no choice but to acknowledge him. Above all though, he truly, deeply loved you and that’s why you could never stay mad at him. He didn’t need to know that, though.

After some of the best make up sex you’d ever had in your life, after you had left him in a huff to spend the night in the spare room once again, he’d ramped up his efforts to earn your forgiveness. The next morning he tried the breakfast angle again, this time bringing you eggs benny and a mimosa from your favorite brunch place on the island right to you in bed. You had to hide your smile as you sat up against the headboard and took the tray from him without even a half-hearted thank you. He didn’t say anything, but you saw the way his mouth twisted into a little pout and you could practically hear the gears in his head turn as he thought of his next step.

After you’d finished your breakfast, you made your way back home, thinking the extra bit of distance might further frustrate and motivate him. Lying on your couch, you spent your time scrolling through the several messages Rafe had left for you and giggling at his desperation. The earlier anger you had felt had all but faded, leaving behind soft fondness as you scrolled through various iterations of ‘I’m sorry baby’ and ‘I love you’ and ‘talk to me’ and ‘please’.

As it turns out, Rafe’s next step arrived after lunch in the form of Sarah Cameron holding a garment bag in one hand and a box that looked suspiciously like it might hold a necklace within.

You scoffed at the items in her hands, lifting an eyebrow as you told her, “If he thinks he’s going to buy my forgiveness…” you paused thoughtfully, eyeing the label on the garment bag and the Tiffany blue packaging of the jewelry box, “Well, damn he might be right.” Sarah only giggled and handed off the items to you, telling you that was only ‘the beginning’ and to be ready by 5.

Part of you thought about ignoring your instructions, slipping on a pair of fuzzy pajamas and watching movies with a glass of wine. The thought of Rafe’s face seeing you on the couch when he arrived that evening was almost enough to do it. But, truthfully, you weren’t even that mad anymore and you were really curious to see what kind of dress he had picked out for you. Looking at the time, you sighed. You really needed to shower, and you liked to take your time getting ready, so you got off the couch and headed up into your bathroom.

After your shower, you unzipped the garment bag and admired the silky, black fabric of the dress, more than a little impressed with Rafe. You spent the next few hours slowly getting ready, taking the time to do your hair and even bringing out the winged eyeliner. Your last step was slipping on the dress, loving the feel of the fabric against your skin.

At five o clock on the dot, your doorbell rang. You took your time swiping a thin coat of lip gloss to your lips before rolling them with a smack. Slipping on a pair of simple black heels, you checked yourself out in the mirror one more time. Rafe had done well choosing the dress, it was in your exact size and hugged the contours of your body perfectly. A small smirk graced your face as you imagined his reaction, and you couldn’t wait any longer, leaving the sanctity of your bedroom. You heard Rafe making small talk with your parents as you descended the steps. Your mother had loved Rafe the moment you brought him home as your boyfriend, but your father had taken longer to warm up to him. It made your heart happy to see the two of them getting along and so you rushed down the last few steps to keep from breaking out into a wide grin.

His jaw dropped slightly when you came into sight, eyes respectfully roaming the black dress hugging your figure. “You look beautiful,” he smiled, though his eyes furrowed when he noticed your bare neck.

“Could you help me put this on?” You asked softly, handing him the diamond necklace you grasped in your small hand and turning around, lifting your hair. You couldn’t help the shiver as his hands brushed against your décolletage and quickly clasped the necklace. He was grateful you didn’t feel how his hands shook.

Spinning back around, you grabbed his hand and tried to wish your parents goodnight and make a speedy getaway, but of course your father had other ideas.

“Have her back by 11,” your father gruffly reminded him and you rolled your eyes.

“Dad, I’m twenty years old,” You told him exasperatedly, but he just shook his head and reminded you that you were ‘under his roof’ for the summer.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, darling,” Your mom smiled, placing her hand on your father’s bicep to calm him. Grinning at her, you told them you loved them and all but dragged Rafe out the door. The second the door closed, you let his hand fall and walked purposefully to his truck. The way his smile fell a little hurt your heart, but you were playing the long game and it was too soon to give in. Rushing ahead of you, he opened the door and helped you in before shutting it for you and jogging to the driver side. He didn’t make a move to grab your thigh, and you found yourself missing the warm comfort it provided. While avoiding his gaze, you grabbed his hand from the wheel and placed it on its familiar position on your upper thigh, watching the way the side of his mouth upturned in your peripheral vision.

It didn’t take long to reach your destination, the cute new restaurant with seating on the waterfront. You had been talking about going there since it opened, but you and Rafe hadn’t yet found the time to go. You gave him a questioning look, there was definitely a wait list but he just shrugged and smiled before getting out of the vehicle and meeting you on the passenger side, opening the door for you again and helping you out. He tossed the keys at the valet, and walked into the restaurant, and you didn’t let go of his hand this time.

Sitting at your table overlooking the calm water, the late afternoon made its way into evening in a flurry of smiles and laughter and quiet conversation. You didn’t know if it was the way his larger hand held yours over the table, the soft adoration in his gaze, or the messy way his hair fell in his eyes, but by the time the entrees had been cleared from the table you knew you needed him. You could pretend the whole date hadn’t done a thing for you, or you could try and get him to show you just how sorry he was.

As he looked through the dessert menu, you squeezed his hand and murmured his name. He looked up at you and flushed a little under your intense gaze, asking, “Baby?”

“Take me home,” you told him slowly, and you saw his face fall. Sighing a little, he nodded “Alright-“

“No, Rafe. Take me home,” you emphasized the last word, tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip. This time, you saw comprehension flash in his eyes and he nodded quickly, pulling out his wallet and dropping a couple hundred dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover your bill and leave a generous tip.

The drive back to his house was considerably quicker than the drive to the restaurant, and his hand rested dangerously high on your upper thigh the entire drive, stroking it softly and ever so slightly moving closer to where you needed him without ever actually touching. The second he threw the truck into park, he was hopping out of the vehicle. Thankful that Ward, Rose and Wheezie were on the mainland for the week and Sarah was probably slumming it down on the Cut, Rafe pulled you into the house and slammed you against the shut front door, eerily reminiscent of when you had slammed it only a few days ago royally pissed off at your boyfriend.

You hungrily kissed him, hands running through and messing up his already messy hair. One of his hands gripped your waist tightly, the other cupped your left breast. Whimpering into his mouth as the hand on your waist slid down your side and slipped under your dress, you tugged on his hair. “Upstairs?” you asked when he broke the kiss to look at you. He smirked and you gasped when he threw you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs, hand squeezing your ass just because it was right there and he could.

He set you down gently on your feet, both of his hands coming to rest on either side of your jaw as he pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss. You felt your head spin, seeing stars as one of his hands slipped a little lower and began to gently put pressure on your neck. Gasping, you started to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, slipping your hand underneath the material and pulling it off of him. Your hands trailed down his toned chest and over his abs, before your smaller hands fumbled with his belt, pulling it clean from the belt loops of his dress pants. When you reached for the button, he pushed your hands away and spun you around to unzip your dress, pressing your chest into the door.

First, he pushed your hair over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade before beginning to slowly pull the zipper down your back. Kissing every inch of back he exposed, all the way down to where your lower back met your ass before standing back up and pushing the dress off your shoulders, allowing it to spill at your feet. You turned around, back pressed to his bedroom door, and stood before him in just your matching lingerie set, and your entire body felt hot from the way he was looking at you – like you were everything he could ever possibly want. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, causing your face to get even warmer.

Running his hands from your shoulder blades, down to your wrists, he linked your hands together as he pressed open mouth kisses down your neck and between your breasts. Pausing to mouth at your nipple through the lace of your bra, he continued kissing and sucking his way down your chest and stomach, stopping at the lace of your panties. You sucked in a deep breath as he sunk to his knees, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before pulling your panties down your legs and helping you step out of them. He leaned back, admiring your core before stroking you slowly with his index finger, gathering the wetness on the tip of his finger. “Such a pretty pussy baby,” he whispered, “and all wet just for me,”

“Rafe,” you whined, hands moving to grip his hair as he lazily played with you, carefully avoiding your entrance and your clit. He smirked up at you, large hand gripping one of your thighs and lifting it to rest over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take good care of you,” he kissed his way up your thigh, tongue flicking out of his mouth to lick at your clit once, twice. You jerked your hips, one hand leaving his hair to grip the dresser that stood beside his door. He pulled his head back and tilted it up to look at you, continuing with a smirk, “as long as you forgive me.”

The way he was looking at you coupled by his grip on your thigh had you unable to speak. Rafe mistook it as you stubbornly holding onto your anger, choosing to press his thumb to your clit and kiss the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp. “Forgive me baby? Please you know I can’t stand you bein’ mad at me. I miss you.” He murmured against the smooth skin of your leg. You still couldn’t speak, and so he pressed his mouth to your clit, sucking and licking as you moaned above him. Suddenly stopping, he leaned back to look at you, indicating he wouldn’t continue until you spoke.

“I- yes, I forgive you, please, I-“ you whined, tugging on his hair. Sighing in a mixture of relief and pleasure as he reattached his mouth to your pussy, your head hit the back of the door with a bang when he slipped a finger into you, then another. You couldn’t help but grind your pussy against his face as he noisily sucked and licked. Eating you out was one of Rafe’s favorite things to do, and he once joked that suffocating between your thighs was the only way he wanted to go. It didn’t take long for you to reach your high after he inserted a third finger into you, curling all three fingers and stroking your walls. Your legs shook and you whined his name as you came, slumping against the door. If Rafe hadn’t been holding you up, you’re certain you would have fallen to the ground, boneless. After he had licked you clean, he gently set your leg back on the ground and rose from his knees before he pressed you into the door, kissing you as you tasted yourself on his tongue. His hand wrapped around your body and easily undid the clasp of your bra, slipping the fabric down your arms until you stood bare before him entirely.

Pressing a kiss to your lips again, he began to undo the button of his pants, before telling you to ‘get on the bed, baby’. Your legs felt like jello as you made the four steps to the bed, crawling onto the bed and laying against the pillows, watching him slip out of his pants and boxers, mouthwatering at the sight of his naked body.

You waited with baited breath as he crawled his way over your body, leaning down to kiss you again, slipping his tongue in your mouth as your chests pressed together. You ran your hands up his muscled back, holding him close to you as you kissed. He leaned his body weight on his forearms that rested on either side of your head, before reaching down to guide himself into your warm heat. The stretch was so good it was almost painful as he slowly entered you, inch by inch until your hips met. He was slow at first, keeping an even pace as he pressed kisses against your neck, your chest. “See how good it can be when you forgive me, baby?” he murmured into your neck. You could only whine in response, holding him tightly to your body.

It was the way his hips thrust in and out of you, the soft affirmations he whispered in between breathy, whiny moans, the way he gripped the headboard. It was the way he told you he loved you when he was fucking you into the mattress, the look in his eyes as he hiked your leg up further up his hip to enter you even deeper. It was the perfectly imperfect combination of all things Rafe Cameron that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your pussy clenching on his dick, as you came hard for the second time. Groaning at the feeling of you around him, he fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own high.

Wanting to help him, you pressed a kiss to the spot just under his ear, smiling when he rewarded you with a whiny moan. Mind clouded with the pleasure he was still giving you, you incoherently rambled in his ear, “God I love you so much baby, you’re so good to me. You make me feel so good, no one can make me feel this good but you.”

Groaning, he slipped a hand down to rub against your clit, hoping to bring you to your third orgasm as he approached his own. Back arching without warning, you came unexpectedly around him again, crying his name and “I love you” and “I forgive you baby, I forgive you.” Your words spurned him on, and he came inside you before collapsing on top of you, cock still buried deep in you. You held him to your chest as it heaved, willing your soul to return to your body.

“You forgive me, huh?” He mumbled, smirking against your chest, “Was it the three orgasms, dinner, or the Tiffany necklace?”

“Oh baby,” you giggled, leaning down to kiss his sweaty forehead, “I already forgave you before all that, just wanted to make you sweat a little.”

Throwing his head back in a whiny laugh, he pressed a kiss to your chest, “Cruel woman.”

“Ya, but you’ll forgive me.”

everything taglist: @velyssaraptor @danicarosaline @copper-boom @x-lulu @prejudic3 @rekrappeter @downbytheouterbanks @ilovejjmaybank @bricksatanakinswindow @jellyfishbeansontoast @sunwardsss @rudyypankow @im-a-stranger-thing @alexa-playafricabytoto @maybankfullkook​@girlsru1eboysdroo1 @sortagaysortahigh @socialwriter @bluesiderudy @anxietyandtacos

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 1

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever. 

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader word length: 3.3k chapters: 1/? warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. Open the read more and CTRL + F, search “content warnings” to skip to detailed trigger warnings at the bottom of the chapter.

Cleaning rich people’s vacation homes hadn’t been your dream job growing up. You had such high hopes when you were a kid, well into your teens, of becoming a zoologist. It had started off like most kid’s dreams—in kindergarten you wanted to be a veterinarian. That grew into wanting to become a herpetologist, but then you wondered, why limit yourself? As a zoologist you could be around tons and tons of animals, studying their behaviors and ecological impacts. It was about half way past your fourteenth birthday that you realized none of your dreams mattered.

You woke in the middle of the night to a crippling pain in your stomach, an unbearable heat boiling under your flesh. You must’ve been screaming, because your parents burst in frantically—only to stop dead upon stepping past the threshold. At the time you had no idea why, but it had been shock. Omegas were rare nowadays, more and more betas were being born while the number of omegas dropped. It was a point on contention; betas could breed with alphas, rendering the omega almost obsolete but alphas, especially ones with packs, wanted omegas.

Personally, you figured that evolution had decided to take things into its’ own hands. Everything about omegas spat in the face of adaption; they were small and delicate, hardwired to obey alpha commands even to their own detriment, experienced a full weeks’ worth of being completely and utterly incapable of survival on their own—

Well, unless one acquired (through whatever means necessary) methods to prevent it that one. Heats, a homegrown threat guaranteed to commit acts of violence at least twice a year. By the time your first had worn off, your parents had already jumped into action. They had three different packs bidding on you. Your mother had been bubbling with glee, talking about how wonderful it was that she had produced an omega when she herself was a beta. Your very existence was about to rocket them into both fame and fortune. So, you ran away. That same night.

It had been shockingly easy to locate illegal suppressants. They taught all about them in school, how they were horrible and taxing on an omega’s physiology. Suppressants masked an omega’s scent, prevented their heats, and (in your opinion) were the best invention of the twenty first century. You couldn’t have given a flying fuck about what negative impacts they might’ve had on your body—death would be a reprieve. Unfortunately you’d yet to have any of the widely touted negative effects (effects that you were pretty sure were made up to keep omegas afraid and compliant) and so you found yourself cleaning rich people’s vacation homes just over the Canadian border.

You’d been living out of your car since you first bought it at sixteen, for five hundred dollars. You gave a creepy beta a blowjob to get your license forged. It was the best investment you’d ever made (not that you had the opportunity to make many) and the clunker was still getting you from point A to point B and that’s all you needed. You had to move constantly, staying in one place too long meant people started to notice you, especially in the small towns you frequented in Ontario. But there was so much forest surrounding you that every once in a while you could just drop off the face of the earth, camping so deep in the woods no one would stumble across you. It made staying anonymous so much easier.

That was actually the current plan, after you finished cleaning this last massive cabin; to abscond into the woods for a while, until you’ve faded from everyone’s memory. You won’t return to this town for at least a year. You’ll spark recognition when you return, but not enough for anyone to consider you more than an outsider in their close-knit community. The kind woman who lets you work for her cleaning company so sporadically will remember you when you ring her, the only person particularly thrilled to hear you’re back for a few months.

You do an excellent job and you do it fast— you can thoroughly and perfectly clean a 6 bedroom mansion by yourself in less than 10 hours and you were paid under the table so you didn’t require overtime, which Mrs. Hunt loved (there was no tax to be taken from an unreported cash payment though, so it was a fair trade in your opinion). You would work yourself to the bone, 10 hours a day everyday there was work available for at least three months and then dip without any expectations until the next time you returned, when she was gushing over the amazing reviews your work had gotten the last time you were around.

It was symbiotic existence—you were paid well for your efforts, more than enough to sustain living out of your car for months at a time, and your performance drove her online reviews into the 4.9 stars range and made it feasible for her to raise her prices. Mrs. Hunt didn’t ask any questions either, even when you requested to only work alone and couldn’t provide any identification beyond a driver’s license.

You were finishing up the kitchen in what was definitely one of the nicest places you’d ever cleaned when your phone went off in your back pocket. It made your skin prickle. Very few people had your number and you couldn’t think of a single reason they’d ring you instead of texting unless something was wrong.  You propped the mop against your shoulder and dug out the phone, frowning at Mrs. Hunt’s name on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Oh sweetie, I’m so glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing?”

“I’m well, Mrs. Hunt,” you answered, your voice coming out semi-robotically as you strained not to sound panicked while continuing the conversation like a normal fucking person, “I’m just about done here, I was finishing the dry mop in the kitchen when you called and then all I need to do is pack up.”

“Oh perfect! I was calling because the owner just rang me, apparently some of his packmates will be arriving a bit earlier than anticipated—potentially within the next hour. Something about someone getting caught up at work, I’ll spare you the details. But if you’re almost done then you’ll probably be gone by the time they arrive.”

“Certainly Mrs. Hunt,” you’d immediately started frantically dry mopping the moment the words ‘within the next hour’ escaped the woman’s mouth, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder. “I’ll be gone in the next few minutes.”

“Now even if you aren’t its okay,” the concern in her voice meant that your own had betrayed you, waivered when you responded without your knowledge. “I always warn the owners that if they arrive before the scheduled time that there’s a possibility the house won’t be done and/or there might be people actively working in the house. You won’t get in any trouble, okay?”

“R-Right, thank you ma’am,” you swallowed heavily, finishing the last swipe across the tile in the kitchen and hustling back into the foyer. “I really won’t be but a minute though. I always keep all of my equipment put away and together if I’m not using it, so I really just need to pack up the mop.”

Which you’d already shoved into the rolling cart you picked up each morning that held all of your cleaning supplies provided by the company.

“Don’t forget your bucket too!” Mrs. Hunt sounded smiley again, “I’ll leave the key under the mat so you can stow your cart tonight. Have a good one swee—.”

“You too!” You might’ve hung up a touch too soon to be considered polite, shoving the phone back into your pocket and running into the kitchen. There was no time to dwell on manners. 

The mop bucket was sitting on the counter, already washed and dried and waiting to be put away. You’d started keeping your things completely put away at all times the same day you’d been accosted by a homeowner who arrived home earlier than expected while you were still trying to pack up. You’d tried to put your notice in that night, a couple of years ago now, but Mrs. Hunt begged you not to—promised it would never happen again. This must’ve been her best attempt at preventing it. At least you had already planned to leave town tonight anyway.

You nearly sprinted back to the cart, haphazardly tossing the stupid bucket on top and wheeling it towards the huge front doors. You’d just stopped to reach around and grab the handle when the knob turned and the left door was pushed open, nearly hitting your cart.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he was a beta, curly haired and dark eyed with pale skin, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Did I knock anything over?”

“N-No, sir,” you pulled the cart back a few steps, nearly trembling with the effort it took not to blast right past him, especially when you noticed him carefully scenting the air. "The house is all clean, I was j-just leaving.”

“Thank you, for getting everything clean for us. We don’t get to come out here as often as we like, I’m sure the place collected a lot of dust in our absence,” he smiled, looking both parts shy and calculating to your well trained eye— and you had no time for such consideration.

“Not too much, h-have a nice night!” You could feel your pulse racing and that was bad. Even the good suppressants, the ones that most of your money went to, had difficulty completely masking the scent of panicking omega.

“Did you use bleach?” The question caught you off guard and you almost jumped when he put a hand on your cart, glancing through the array of chemicals.

“Y-Yes, in the bathrooms. I wasn’t informed of any sensitivities—”

“Nothing a little fresh air won’t take care of,” you wanted him to stop looking at you like that, like there was some pale flash of recognition behind his eyes. “Would you go open the windows in the bathrooms upstairs? I’m afraid my nose is pretty sensitive, several of my packmates are similar.”

You did not like that his nose was especially sensitive and you hated that his packmates were similarly afflicted. It felt like getting punched in the face with a fight or flight instinct, your brain immediately demanded that you leave the cart and run past him—fuck the cart, fuck the job, you could find something else.

“Oh, and do you have the key to the front doors? I might as well get them from you now instead of us having to go down to the office tomorrow.” Your hand immediately dove into your pocket, yanking out the single key and dropping it in his palm. “Thanks— and the windows? Sorry, I just can’t go up there until it’s aired out.”

He wasn’t a huge man but the way he filled the doorway made you second guess trying to run past him, even if he was greying at the temples and looking a little rumpled. It was strange, you wouldn’t usually have such an intense reaction to a beta, but something about him was vaguely unsettling. So instead of trying to make a run for it, you turned on your heel and forced yourself to calmly walk up the stairs. There were four massive bedrooms in the cabin, each with its own bathroom and you’d need to go through and open the windows for the three bathrooms that had them. It meant darting into huge bedrooms, dodging expensive furniture and knickknacks and trying not to dirty the freshly mopped and swept hardwood floors in the process.

It took about five minutes but you felt like you’d run a marathon, your heart was pounding and there was sweat at the nape of your neck. All you wanted was out of the stupid fucking house, immediately. You dashed down the stairs and turned the corner, seeing your cart right where you left it. The door was still open too, but the beta was no where to be seen. You immediately darted forward, grabbing the cart tightly and beginning to push it past the threshold—

You were stopped in your tracks at the sight of two unnecessarily broad alphas. Both were tall, the white man standing just an inch or so taller, with a full beard and blond hair. The black alpha had facial hair too, a cleanly edged goatee to match a faded cut. Both were incredibly attractive and putting off waves of pheromones, to the point that your head floated for a moment.  Your lips clamped shut on a whine, instinct trying to push through and alert the two powerful alphas of your presence. Instead you ducked your head and continued out the door.

“Hi there, sweetheart.” Your gaze snapped up, immediately locking with a pair of dark brown eyes. “You the housekeeper?”

“Yes sir,” you answered quietly, stopping short in front of them when neither moved out of your way. “Sorry to have been here so late. Have a good evening.”

Both were still smiling, still pointedly not moving.

“My name’s Steve, that’s Sam,” the blond’s nose twitched, just slightly, and you realized he was very discretely scenting the air. “Nice to meet you. Do you live in town?”

“N-No, please excuse me,” you nudged the cart forward just an inch but they still didn’t budge and panic began coursing through your blood with renewed vigor, “excuse m—”

“Your scent is… confusing,” Steve’s head tilted to the side, “I don’t mean to be crass, of course, but I couldn’t help but notice.”

“It’s always been this way,” the response was automatic and your brain began shutting down all unnecessary functions; you were about to have to run and hope your omega physiology would make you faster than them.

“You smell almost like an omega,” he continued, both hands coming to rest on his hips, emphasizing the width of his shoulders. “But not quite?”

“I’m a beta.”

“Are you sweetheart?” Sam’s voice was a rumble, his head tilted to the side while his dark eyes burned holes into your skin.

The tone an alpha used with naughty omegas was deliberate and tightly controlled, the same as a command or a purr or a growl. It was on purpose, an attempt to nicely draw out the correct response. He wanted you to admit you were an omega, to tell them the truth of your own volition. The fact that your hindbrain desperately wanted to comply was a completely different issue—one you didn’t have time to address right now.

“Positive,” you breathed, clenching your fists tightly around the handles of the cart for just a second before deciding to leave it behind; you’d never be coming back here, there was no reason to worry about preserving your job.

Your eyes were quick and indefinitely perceptive. Being an omega was one step up from being a prey species, it came with inherent instincts that made you especially good at predicting behaviors. After all, an omega was only as good as their ability to please and soothe packmates. One of the single upsides to being an omega was that you were fast though—fast enough to outrun most alphas. And you only needed to go about a hundred and fifty feet, once you were in your car you could certainly get away. So the second you realized the pair was about to shift, moving to face each other more than you, you darted around the cart and dodged to the left.

It wasn’t your fault, honestly. There was no way you could’ve known you weren’t dealing with normal alphas. The blond was so fast that he almost moved between blinks—one moment he was still, the next he’d wrapped his arms around you and tugged you back into his chest. His arms were like steel, one wrapped around your torso to keep your arms pinned to your sides while the other carefully held your chin. Your hindbrain was screaming now, submit, submit, make alpha happy and you bit down on your tongue to hold in the whimpers, the omega sounds your throat was trying to produce.

“Shhh, shh, calm down,” it was half a tone away from being a purr and you continued to squirm while you still could—an alpha command was coming, you could feel it in your bones.

“Let Steve smell you,” Sam was rumbling instead of talking again, a similar half purr to how Steve had started speaking. "Everything’s okay, omega.”

You felt a nose nudge down your neck, towards your scent gland and you bared your teeth at the man in front of you. “I’m not an omega!”

“You smell like omega,” Steve’s breath ghosted over your skin and you fought a shiver. "Sort of. It’s buried, under… beta… sour beta?”

“What sort of suppressants are you on, sweetie?” You startled as the beta from earlier emerged from the house, wiping his hands on a dish towel absently. "Are you cutting them with anything? Heroin, or coke? It’s okay, you just need to tell me.”

“Tell Bruce sweetheart,” Sam coaxed, automatically moving to roll up the sleeves of your shirt, evidently looking for track marks. "Where do you get them?”

“I’m not on suppressants!” Your voice was almost a shriek at this point, desperately imitating the behavior of an angry beta rather than a terrified omega. “I’m a beta! Get off of me!”

“Okay, okay, here then,” Steve’s arm around your torso tightened, the one on your chin beginning to work its way down towards your jeans. "There’s only way one to tell for sure.”

Shock and fear and humiliation; an array of emotions swarmed through your body as his hand popped the button but those were the three you could identify and you immediately started thrashing your legs—he was going to check if you had an omega ridge and then everything would be over. It was a defining physical characteristic that couldn’t be passed off as anything other than what it was: a boney protrusion meant to catch on an alpha’s knot so they could be locked in place. In females it was found in the vagina, prominently featured directly before the g-spot so a knot would cause persisting pleasure. For males it was similarly positioned next to the prostate.

“Calm down, calm down!” Sam crooned, hands coming up to cup your face as while Steve’s slithered down the front of your jeans and into your panties. "It’s okay sweetheart, no matter what. Whatever Steve finds, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll keep you safe.”

The thrashing was doing nothing but tiring you out, you’d already been intensively cleaning for the past 9 hours without a break and it certainly wasn’t dissuading the hand slithering between your folds. You bit down on your tongue harder, until you drew blood to prevent the whimpers—you couldn’t make that stupid sound, you’d never make that stupid, pathetic, whiney noise, you couldn’t. Not even when a long, thick finger penetrated and sunk knuckle deep. Not even when the pad of said finger brushed your g-spot before hooking onto the ridge, tugging gently in a way that would’ve caused blinding pleasure had you not grounded yourself with the pain of biting your tongue.

“There it is,” Steve’s voice was soft, finger carefully running the length of the ridge. "A nice deep one too.”

“How long have you been taking suppressants?” Bruce prodded quietly, coming to stand next to Sam. “I need to know what sort of damage we’re looking at.”

When you didn’t respond Sam sighed, fingers brushing gently over your chin as he directed you to face him. "Please don’t make us use an alpha command, sweetheart. We just wanna take care of you. Tell Bruce how long you’ve been on suppressants, please.”

You regarded the handsome alpha for several short moments before spitting a mouthful of blood directly into his face.

 content warnings: assault, noncon vaginal fingering

edited 7/9/21 - still on hiatus

[tonystarkhasaheart]

You Know Who I am

Tony Stark X Reader

Word Count: 2,741

Summary: Y/N a stripper who has a day job at Stark Industries and her boss pays her a pretty generous visit

Author's Note: Even though this is my first fanfic it will have 4 parts, hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Part 2 is on it's way soon.

I look up at myself in the mirror, eyes heavy from the weight of my lashes, dark, smokey.. yet sensual. Lips plump and red, a deep red nothing too bright.

I take a moment to glance at the room around me, girls in and out the velvet curtain, changing clothes, spraying perfume and adding last-minute glitter. I look at my phone to check the time 12:46am.

“Hot date tonight?” I hear from my left, I don’t need to turn to see who it is, most of the girls here don’t talk to me, except for Siren. Not her real name of course, but I guess when you have a real-life outside of this you don’t want anyone to know it. I don’t blame her.

I set my phone down and look at her with a gentle smile and turn to the bag I keep under my station between rounds, pulling out my book to read. I can feel Siren’s breathe over my shoulder. “Just some light reading?” She asks.

I laugh lightly “The lightest I’ve read in a while actually.” I smile to myself as I run my fingers over the title on the cover of Quantum Physics and Theories of the Mind.

“Don’t want to spoil it for you” she said scooting back a bit with her hands up feigning surrender.

I smile again, I forgot I actually like her sense of humor “It’s okay,” I look up from the cover, “I already know the ending.”

Before any more words can be exchanged, I hear my stage name being called by the house mom. “Bambi, you’re up sweets!”

“Thank you, Cassandra!” I place my book back in its place and grab my money bag turning to Siren one last time, “Why don’t we ever hang out, outside of here?”

“Because you’re too busy being a smart ass in the real world,” Siren says with a smile.

I wink at her before walking through the velvet curtains where it is almost pitch black, except for the neon lights circulating the room and spotlights on the main stage. I scan the crowd as I listen to my heels click on my way up to the DJ booth. A number of regulars and just as many new faces but the back of one man’s head stood out. I couldn’t quite place it at the quick glance that I got, but he was sitting front and center so it wouldn’t be long before I figured it out.

A dancer by the name of Scarlett was finishing up and I gave the DJ my song. He looked and me and shook his head laughing “You never fail to surprise me” I smile and look back at the stage to see Scarlett doing her best and receiving money from plenty of customers, but she was focused on one, and he looked like he couldn’t care less. Front and center with a profile that could kill, elbow on the arm of his seat with his head in his hand and his sunglasses pointlessly resting on the bridge of his nose. And then it hit me, not only was he like the richest man alive; he was also, indirectly speaking, my boss. Tony Stark.

I had only briefly met him once after my orientation at Stark Industries, so I wasn’t worried about being recognized. It was the fact that he was the man I wanted to wake up to every morning to study his brilliant brain. Now that, that did the trick. I felt heat spread through my body starting at my core and working its way to my neck. I rubbed the back of my neck as I shook off the nerves. I got this, just another customer, just one with a lot more money than most.

As the music faded from Scarlett’s song, I watched her pick up her money and try and shove it in her bag. The DJ started talking to the crowd and hyping up Scarlett as she walked around collecting some final tips. She got on her knees in front of Mr. Stark and leaned in real close. Without a single change in his demeanor, he pulled a single bill from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it to her between his middle and index finger, as if he was trying to shoo her away. But even I could see it was a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. She looked at the bill offended and snatched it from his fingers before finishing her way around the stage. Once she was done, she passed me with a huff, practically cussing the billionaire out as she exited the stage to the back with her bag overflowing with money from the other customers. Something about being a ‘cheap micropenis douche who wouldn’t be able to appreciate a good dance if it hit him in the face. I shook my head pushing the waves of my hair over my shoulder as the DJ started to introduce me.

“If you thought Scarlett was good let the bar know and you might be able to get a private dance before she leaves tonight. But you might not want to leave just yet because next, we have our very best. A woman who can turn any type of music into your new favorite song. Here to prove it once again, the seductress herself, Bambi!”

I laugh to myself at the length of his introduction, but it’s true I like a challenge and today I picked a song that I normally wouldn’t have. “Back in Black” by AC/DC started playing and I couldn’t help but notice a certain man in the front’s ears begin to perk up at the first couple of notes. Maybe it was my eyes playing tricks on me but I swear I even saw him sit up a little straighter.

I took confident, sexy strides towards the front of the stage and swayed my hips in a circle once I got in front of the pole. I held it as I circled it scanning the crowd. I dropped my hips and rose sensual making my ass bounce to the beat before turning my back to the pole and rolling my hips. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mr. Stark lean forward in his chair hands clasped, elbows on his knees. He was invested and I wanted to give him a show.

I started to climb the pole and as I did, he slid his sunglasses off his face, looking directly into my eyes, staring deep into my soul with the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. But I knew tonight I wouldn’t get to see the pain or trauma he’s overcome through his eyes because tonight, they were filled with lust.

Lust, passion..Possession.

As I slid down the pole his eyes never left my body. I gracefully landed on the floor and crawled to the edge of the stage. I turned to lay on my back letting the waves of my hair cascade off the edge, I arched my back looking straight at him. In a swift motion, almost a blur, my view was clouded by the storm of papers falling from the sky. Now standing directly over me with his hands firmly pressed against the stage on either side of my face. As lay there on my back I realized what just happened. I just made a billionaire rain hundreds upon my body and his face hovering over mine, was him making his claim on me for the night.

I sensually brought myself back to my knees slightly rolling in the thick layer of money that covered the stage. I twirled my ass in a way I know would make anyone weak and I didn’t have to look back to know he was all in. Crawling my way back to the pole using it to stabilize myself as I try to stand, simultaneously trying not to trip on the stage that I couldn’t see anymore. Now this wasn’t my first time getting rained on at the club, however when I looked down, the most notable difference between now and any other time it’s happened was that it was normally a slew of ones, maybe some fives, occasionally a couple stray twenties. But this... was all hundreds. Strictly Benjamin’s scattered across the whole stage to the point you couldn’t see anyone else’s money that was thrown during my set. I’m definitely going to need a bigger money bag.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Three trash bags, four security guards and five songs later, I just about collected all the money Mr. Stark threw for me. Now usually, we don’t get help picking up our money, unless it’s a VIP room shared by three or more dancers. However, because of the sheer amount of money and the fact that I was the club’s best dancer, they played favorites tonight. Not to mention girls from the back started to pick up bills that had overflowed from the stage onto the floor. Even some of the customers started pocketing some of the cash and honestly, could you blame them?

I immediately gave the bags of money to our house mom so she could cash me out for the night, but as I handed her my bags she told me I had a VIP room and she would put the bags in her safe until I was done. My heart sped up a bit as I hoped it was the very generous billionaire, but what are the odds that he would get a VIP room with me right after throwing a million dollars at me, literally. Technically I could’ve turned it down, I mean I definitely made more than enough money tonight, but part of me wanted to see who it was.

I touched up my makeup, ran a brush through my hair and freshened up a bit before changing my heels to a more comfortable black pair. As I walked through the curtains to the main floor, I could see Siren on stage dancing to “Body Party” by Ciara. I took note that the front row seat was occupied by another man. My heartbeat quickened as I turned towards the VIP rooms down the hall.

The closer I got I could hear the voice I dreamed of waking up next to. I took a deep breath primped my hair and opened the door to the room. His back was turned to me as he talked into his phone. He seemed unamused and inconvenienced. I took the moment to admire his figure as he hung up, not noticing my presence yet. He ran his hand over his face and through his hair, oh how I’d love to lace my fingers through those tresses, before throwing his phone at the coach.

“I heard you were looking for a private dance,” I say as I entering the room further making my presence known.

Unfazed by this discovery, he turned around with that signature smirk. All doubt and suspicions placed aside I was standing in front of the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist himself, Tony Stark.

“And I heard you were the best,” taking a step closer to me.

“Depends on who you ask,” mimicking his actions.

“I trust my sources,” he said looking me up and down “, they’ve never failed me before.”

“Once or twice is not never,” I scoffed remembering the time my team had to cover a minuscule mistake in one of the details for a new clean air prototype we were working on that could have cost the company millions because one of his “sources” said it looked good enough.

“What are you-” I cut him off, closing the distance between us and reach for his tie to play with between my fingers. The way the fabric felt between my fingers let me know it was no clip-on, job interview tie. It was probably custom-made and imported from France or something ridiculous like that.

“So are we going stand here and banter or did you want that dance. Or was that an excuse to get me alone?”

“You better watch yourself, princess”

“Oh,” I tilted my head to the side challenging his very existence “, or what?”

“You know who I am.”

“Hmm, so maybe I do, but we have rules here,” I push him back on the couch “, Sir.” I smirk before climbing on him and straddling his lap placing my hands on his chest on either side of his arc reactor. I feel him tense slightly as I touched his chest, maybe an insecurity. I scanned his eyes, easily reading everything that fed into my suspicions. He looked as if I would turn and run in fear that he was some sort of monster, at any second just because it was there. I bring one of my hands to his cheek and stroked it in reassurance, silently letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere and not just because he was paying me to be here. He let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding and regained his cockiness. All traces of the vulnerable moment we shared gone as I slid my hand down his neck to rest on his shoulder.

“So, it looks like I’m getting my dance after all,” he said running his hands up my thighs and resting them on my hips.

I started to roll my hips in circles, biting my lip so I wouldn’t enjoy the touch of his hands on my bare skin too much, “It would appear so.”

“What does a girl like you know about AC/DC?”

“I’m offended Mr. Stark, a girl like me?” I grabbed the hair at the base of his neck pulling lightly, tilting his head back. He groaned as I rolled my hips harder for emphasis.

“That’s not what I—fuck.”

I smiled as he squeezed his eyes shut, admiring the twisted expression his face held. I took the hand that was resting on his chest up his neck to his face running my fingers over his lips, they parted instinctively, before cupping his cheek and leaning in close to his ear whispering, “Mr. Stark I’m afraid you know nothing about me and the type of girl I am.”

His hands slid further up my waist gripping me tightly. At least I’d have a couple bruises to remember him by. He opened his eyes and for the split second I saw them, they were pitch black. He growled slightly pulling me into the most animalistic, passionate kiss I have ever shared with anyone. Quick to reciprocate, I wrapped both my arms around his neck, lacing my fingers in his hair, desperately trying to grasp on to any bit of sanity I had left. He bit my lip asking me for the permission that I granted him oh so quickly and without hesitation. He moved swiftly and his presence was so strong I was intoxicated by his scent, he was everywhere and nowhere at once, flooding my senses with everything that was him. I pulled away reluctantly needing to catch my breath. It came out in gasps, but he didn’t miss a beat sliding down to my neck feverishly, desperate to have my flesh between his lips.

“Mr. Stark,” I moaned.

“Call me Tony,” he said.

“I-I can’t,” I gasped, fighting another moan.

“Why not, princess?” barely letting his lips leave my neck even for a second, not seeming fazed by my answer. I could feel the smile on his lips, I couldn’t give in.

“I just, I can’t tell you.” Whatever spell he had me under was about to have me sleep with my boss without him even knowing he was my boss. Not that it wouldn’t be consensual but I still wouldn’t want to raise any problems at work.

He hummed against my neck and licked from the base of my throat to my ear then peppered kisses back to my lips before saying, “You’re trying to hide something from me, but I’ll figure it out.” He started to stand and I slid off of his lap still in his tight embrace. He leaned down kissing the corner of my mouth and whispered in my ear, “You know who I am,” and with that, he straightened his jacket grabbed his phone and left the room.

There I stood lipstick smudged, high off the intoxicating drug that was Anthony Edward Stark.